Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story (more's the pity--they could help pay my student loans) except for Eve Berger. Nor did I come up with the plot of PoA, and the scenes and dialogue included in that fab book, which I humbly reproduce at certain points herein. All that belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Raincoast, Scholastic...the list goes on!
A/N: One quick comment: soundtrack for this chapter was tracks 8 and 11 from the score to "The Sixth Sense" by James Newton Howard, and in particular the Medieval Baebes' "E Volentieri (reprise)" from their CD "Undrentide". Now for the evil laughter. Muahahahahahaa!
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Chapter 14: Two Shocking Discoveries
Despite the fact that she had made an improvement in Potions class, Snape did still have a tendency to snap at her when she wasn't quick enough for him or he was in a particularly irritable mood, usually due to something he'd read in the Daily Prophet about sightings of Sirius Black. He was confident he could have easily found out where Black was hiding if he was given five minutes alone with Lupin and a bottle of Veritaserum. Naturally, he hadn't received that wish yet.
One day in mid-March he was in a particularly foul mood during her tutorial and in consequence was being rather shorter with her than usual. His irritation was not helped when she was a full minute answering a question he had asked, and in a tone of immense frustration Snape barked, "Kindly don't take a lifetime to answer Miss Berger--I don't have a hundred and fifty years to waste."
Berger had been blushing angrily into her copy of Magical Draughts and Potions, obviously looking for something to prod her memory, or stalling until she could avoid answering by adding the final ingredient to her Disinfecting Potion. When he spoke, however, he instantly saw her face change, the angry creases on her forehead smoothing into confusion. After a moment she looked up at him, her puzzlement written on her face.
Snape wasn't in the mood for her to be staring up at him like a stupid, confused dog, and looked at her coldly for a moment. "What? Another entry in the mammoth encyclopaedia of things you've failed to learn?"
If he'd been hoping to get her temper up, he'd failed miserably. Instead her eyes widened slightly, and she said, slowly, "One hundred and fifty years? That's the average lifespan? But...I'd never read that..."
Snape sighed. He did not want to be having this conversation at the moment, particularly as she seemed troubled by it. He couldn't think why; he would have thought that she'd be jumping at the fact that she'd be able to hold off natural death for seventy-five years longer than expected. But as she did seem to be taking the news rather hard, best to send her off to everyone's shoulder to lean on in times of trouble: Dumbledore.
"Yes, well. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore would be better at answering your questions. Add the aloe extract, stir it three times anti-clockwise, then go up to the Headmaster's office. I will let it simmer for a half-hour then see if you've done it right. Dismissed."
Berger added the final ingredient and stirred the potion before packing up her books and walking out of the room, looking too preoccupied to give him any answer, or, not that he had been expecting it, thanks.
Snape moved to his desk once she had gone and scribbled a note to Dumbledore, explaining what had happened. Once he'd sent it through the intra-school floo network, he set to marking his sixth-years' papers using the blood-red ink and eagle-owl quill he kept for just that purpose. He liked to think that his selection of writing materials was a symbolically apt choice. Absorbed by his marking, he didn't spare another thought for Berger until half an hour had passed and the timer he'd set went off.
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Eve walked up to the Headmaster's office in a bit of a daze, a thousand different thoughts running through her mind, the foremost of which was: how could I have missed this?
Dumbledore was obviously waiting for her, as she had hardly knocked when she heard him call, "Come in, Miss Berger," and she walked in.
As usual, her eye was drawn to Fawkes first, his vivid red plumage contrasting with the dim, grey light outside. The phoenix tilted its head to one side and regarded her for a moment before letting out a single, shimmering chirp before preening his feathers. The note of phoenix song lifted a little of the weight on her shoulders and when she turned to Professor Dumbledore, she could do so with a little more composure that she would have a few minutes earlier.
"Professor Snape informed me that you would be coming and why. Please tell me about what happened," Dumbledore asked, gesturing to the chair across his desk.
Eve sat and after a moment's thought told him what Snape's comment had been as well as her reaction to it. "I'd never read that anywhere. I knew there were some witches or wizards who lived longer than the ordinary human lifespan, but I thought it was an exception, not the rule."
"You most likely hadn't read it because the books you were reading assumed you knew. Most magical people grow up knowing it, while Muggle-borns learn about it when they're still rather young, and so don't usually consider what that means."
"Well I have to admit it is nice to think that I've got at least another 125 years in front of me. I never expected I'd have the chance to see two turns of the century. But that means that all my Muggle friends, my cousins...every non-magical person I know now will die long before I do. And if I married a Muggle...my husband and any non-magical children I had...I'd have to watch them die of old age."
Dumbledore paused a moment, and when he spoke it was prefaced with a small sigh. "Miss Berger, there is nothing I can say that will make this knowledge any easier to absorb. This is simply one of those things that every Muggle-born witch or wizard has to come to terms with, as it is something that cannot be changed. Certainly, if you were ever to fall in love with a Muggle, it is something you have to consider and...and as someone who has been through the experience it is not an easy decision. All I can say is that you should never give up the chance for the greatest happiness simply to avoid a great deal of pain as well."
Eve looked up at him in surprise. Dumbledore had been in love--possibly even married a Muggle? She knew the idea shouldn't seem so foreign. He was human like everyone else, and despite the perennial schoolchild's amazement that their teachers did the same things as everyone else, there was no reason she could think of that she shouldn't have imagined that any of her teachers was married. Well, except possibly Snape, though one never knew.
Dumbledore smiled at her patiently. "Yes, even I, Albus Dumbledore, did something so ordinary as fall in love." Eve was about to say that that wasn't what she'd meant, but he waved it off. "And that I happened to do so with a Muggle. We were married in 1870, when she was twenty. She died in 1938. I would not have given up those fifty-eight years with her to have been spared missing her for the last fifty-six. However, I do believe that if you spend much time worrying about that at the moment, you will be putting the cart far before the horse, if I'm not mistaken." The usual sparkle in his eyes reappeared and Eve had to smile in response.
"Miles before the horse, I'm afraid," she replied lightly, then sobered a little, remembering one of the questions that had been flitting around her head since she'd come to Hogwarts. If anyone knew the answer, Dumbledore would. "Professor...do you have any idea why I developed magical ability, why now? Shouldn't there be some explanation?"
Dumbledore looked at her, his smile still present but bittersweet now. "In a perfect world we would know the reason for everything. Unfortunately this is not a perfect world. As far as I have been able to find out, there is no certain explanation. Possibly one of your distant ancestors was a witch or wizard, and the ability remained dormant in your family line until you were past the usual age. Perhaps you are simply like other Muggle-born witches and wizards, except that for some reason your talent manifested itself later in life. It has happened before. Not in recent memory I admit, but it has. I'm afraid that's the only explanation I can offer. Now, I believe it is almost time for dinner. You'd best go join your housemates."
Eve nodded her thanks and walked out, feeling better in spirit and with a little more personal respect for Albus Dumbledore--not that that hadn't been rather high already.
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By early April, Eve had settled into a routine for her essay preparations. She found that, naturally, the library was usually at its least busy during lunch hours, and she would often use that time to work in the restricted section. She wasn't all that keen on her fellow students seeing her going in there so often. With the way that rumours spread around Hogwarts she didn't want to start any speculation that she was dabbling in the Dark Arts. Though she didn't much care what the other students thought of her, her life would be a great deal easier if she didn't have to deal with sidelong glances or nosy questions. Besides, she couldn't let anything happen to break that wizards' contract.
The Friday after Easter vacation she rushed from Defence Against the Dark Arts class to lunch and from the Great Hall to the library still looking rather tousled from her lesson. They had been learning some simple hexes and her partner in class had hit her with the Hurricane Hex, which directed a strong gust of wind at an opponent, so strong that they couldn't advance toward the caster. Eve had had to repeat the counter-hex twice before it had finally stopped, and she had been able to put the Frogspawn Curse on her partner, making them speak in frog-like croaks until Eve performed the counter-curse.
"Good afternoon Madam Pince!" she called softly as she neared the librarian's desk.
"Hallo, Miss Berger. In the restricted section again today?"
"At the moment, yes."
Madam Pince produced the sign-in book and quill for those working in the restricted section and Eve signed in. From the list of signatures, she could see that two of the other students with the same privilege were already inside. She hoped that neither of them had taken her preferred table. She doubted it--they seemed to have their favourite places to work as well.
The ink glowed green as she finished writing her name, the books she was using and the course she was using them for, signalling that she was authorized to go in. Madam Pince shut the book and opened the latticed door for Eve to enter.
Once inside, Eve immediately turned right, and headed down the fourth row of shelves from the door, her feet so used to the route that she didn't need to think about where she was going. Instead, she was thinking about the things she would be looking for that day. Her parents had sent up a couple more used books they'd been able to find on the Nuremberg trials a few days before, and Eve was trying to think of situations she'd briefly read about that she could match up in a comparison.
She found her favourite table, glad to see that the other students weren't around. She had looked around the restricted section for a few minutes before choosing her workspace, trying to find the best location. The table she'd chosen was near the back of the restricted section, in a corner where very little light and noise from the rest of the library filtered to her. It was well away from any other tables or shelves, so there was little chance of someone peeking over her shoulder as she worked, the light so low that the table had its own reading lamp on it. She tapped the Victorian-style lamp with her wand, saying "Lumos," as she did and it flicked on, throwing a soft, yellow glow onto the table top. She put down her ink, quill, and folder of research notes before walking back into the stacks, unthinkingly making her way to the section on the Death Eater trials.
Reaching the familiar row of books, she took out her wand and tapped the third volume of the set four times, whispering "Pace" on the third tap. In response, the volume slid out about a centimetre, confirming that she had deactivated the security protection on that volume. She repeated the process with a few other volumes she thought she'd need, then hefted them back to her table.
After unlocking her folder of notes she set to work, looking up those cases she'd thought might be useful, scribbling notes in a cramped, somewhat illegible hand. As she read, she sometimes wrinkled her nose or cringed at some of the things being described, though she felt only a little sickened at some of the crimes she was reading about. Written in plain language, there was a distance between what she read and the part of her brain that actually realized that these things had happened. Not that she didn't feel any less disgusted at the perpetrators and what they'd done.
It was while she was flipping between records when she saw it: a few words that set off alarm bells in her brain. Words she hadn't expected to see, and certainly not in that combination. She stopped, then flipped back, page by page, looking for the place where she'd seen them. She was sure she'd seen them near the right-hand margin on the right-hand page, but part of her mind was saying that she had to have been mistaken in what she saw. Her hands were sweating, heart racing. She had to be mistaken...
Suddenly they were there, and as she read the line which contained them she pushed her chair back with a gasp, recoiling from the words which she both could and could not believe were true.
No! I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!