Chapter 11: Reevaluation (Evidence of a Previously Inactive Conscience)

While the month of November passed with a marked improvement in the Lily-James department (they were actually eliciting gags from certain of the more unromantic students when they walked together through the halls now), events in the wizarding world kept the atmosphere extremely tense.

Voldemort's attacks had increased; there were merciless killings of muggle-magic mixed families, which spread to pureblooded families. Squibs, despite the protection their families offered, didn't stand a chance; they were the first to go. There were stories printed every day in the Prophet describing in strangely vague details every new attack that took place. The Dark Mark glowing in the night, hovering over the site of some new act of destruction and death, while still as widely feared, had begun to be something of a common sighting. Families retreated into their homes, doubling their cautionary defenses—to no avail. Time and time again, Aurors discovered that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had once again found a way to destroy or make void whatever protective measures wizards took. Muggles were practically defenseless.

Dumbledore brought the matter up at the next meeting of the Order. Everyone knew about the widespread attacks, happening in increasing number, as they were reported in the Prophet and all other wizarding publications—but with less and less detail. Concrete information about the Dark Lord was becoming more and more obscure, at least in the public venues widely used; the Ministry seemed to be keeping much of the information to itself. There were rumours going around that wizarding settlements such as Hogsmeade were at great risk of being next on Voldemort's list, if such a thing could be imagined, causing many of the town's population to move away or to go into hiding.

"Distrust is mounting everywhere," Dumbledore told the company gravely. "From what I've heard, the Ministry has had a rough time of it trying to work with Muggle Parliament in handling the situation and concealing the fact that these grotesque events are the result of dark magic. The Muggles don't know what to make of these attacks—luckily for them, it seems that Voldemort is aiming for complete control of the wizarding world before he attempts to take on the non-magical."

"But Albus," Arabella Figg spoke up, and several heads swiveled in her direction. Her worried eyes were trained on the headmaster. "What are they telling the Muggles? How are they accounting for these 'mysterious' killings, if they're not telling them about Voldemort?"

"The incidents involving purely Muggle killings have not been many, and thus far, it seems that the Muggle authorities are explaining everything away by alluding to several new diseases; natural catastrophes; Muggle serial killers. Our department of Magical Law Enforcement has had to do more than its share of memory charms on people so there won't be any unnecessary questions asked."

"So Muggles aren't going to be able to defend themselves at all, are they?" asked Lily. Various emotions were playing across her face; anger not the least among them. "Is there some sort of Muggle Protection Force organized?" The bitterness in her voice was hardly contained; it was, after all, because there was no Muggle Protection provided that her entire family, besides Petunia, no longer existed. James took her hand silently, and some of the tension eased from her face.

"I'm afraid not, Lily," Sirius replied, as he had ample connections within the Ministry and seemed to have an assortment of ways to weasel information out of them that no one else could get hold of. James often told Lily that he had suspicions Sirius was charming information out of women; but no one knew for sure. At this point, Sirius's expression was somber. "They're having a hard enough time protecting magical families, who should be able to defend themselves, and as Voldemort does seem to be after wizarding world dominance, at this time, it's more important to protect those who are already under attack."

Lily was about to retort, but James stopped her.

"The Ministry's vastly understaffed!" exclaimed a man James recognized as working in Mysteries. He was thumping his fist adamantly on a table. "And half of them are overworked, underpaid, and afraid of their own shadows! Our Aurors can't be everywhere at once!"

"Damn right," Alastor Moody agreed, his magical eye swiveling in its socket in a most disturbing manner. He glowered at everyone. "I'm getting complaints from my boys' families about them not ever seeing the poor chaps, as they're on call and on duty most of the time!" He scowled. "And the calls we get! People are scared of the smallest sound, the slightest abnormality. When I say 'constant vigilance' I mean vigilance, not irrational panic!!" There was a slight wave of strained laughter at this; everyone knew about Moody's favourite saying. It had been lightly brushed off and bandied about at parties, until Voldemort made his presence felt and Moody's dire warnings had been proven with a vengeance.

The comparative flippancy of the conversation passed all too quickly, however, as the company returned to its talk of the current state of public affairs in the wizarding community. The discussion continued along this vein for quite some time, many of those who were employed by the Ministry seeming to need to vent their frustrations from work. It might have gone on for the entire night if Dumbledore hadn't brought everything to a sudden halt by broaching the subject of traitors in the group's midst.

"Voldemort knows about our meetings," Dumbledore explained, with seeming tranquility, though those standing nearest him could see the way his eyes burned as his gaze traveled from face to face. "How many of our company's identities have been revealed to him we have not been assured of yet; his movements have shown him to have anticipated certain defense measures taken against the particular types of dark magic his band of Death Eaters has been hitherto known to have most often used." The headmaster's look was stern as several pairs of eyes faltered before his steadfast gaze. "We can only assume one of our company has been passing on information to him—and that this has been going on for quite some time."

There were murmurs in the assembly now; members looked about suspiciously.

"It might even be necessary for some of you," Dumbledore's eyes locked with James's, "to go into hiding. In the near future…"

"Is Hogwarts in any danger?" Sirius's voice spoke up. His black eyes were flashing.

"At the moment, the ancient spells protecting Hogwarts appear to be intact," Dumbledore replied, as several turned toward him for reassurance. "However, as Voldemort seems to have been finding ways around most defensive mechanisms, complete safety cannot be assured. In short—it may only be a matter of time."

As several voices broke out at once, James and Lily exchanged a look. If there was a member of the company that was betraying them, Snape wasn't the only Death Eater in the castle at the moment. And since Snape had never defied the group's action or taken any of his own to support Voldemort openly, it could only be assumed that he was acting as more of a background supporter than a perpetrator of violence. They had wondered, at the first meeting of the Order, why Snape hadn't joined their number as so many of the staff under Dumbledore had—excluding Trelawney, of course, who hardly ever left her tower. Dumbledore had said something about not asking Snape, as he was known to despise involving himself in such politically-oriented matters. They had easily accepted the excuse, as Snape had always seemed to them something of a morose, bitter introvert. They'd been relieved, actually, since that meant they wouldn't have to put up with Snape during the meetings. The headmaster's words from that night came back to them—"he may, very likely, simply be misguided," he'd said. Was he? But at the moment, the traitor in the Order seemed a much more important link to Voldemort to be ferreted out.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room, several hooded figures congregated near a fire. The intricately formed snakes of gold that looped along the walls glinted in the light; their eyes, dark rubies and emeralds, blinked in the torchlight, giving the snakes a lifelike semblance.

"Luckily for some of you," a voice spat in conclusion, "McCormack was in no condition to report any of our secrets or names from our company to the Ministry. He was taken to St. Mungo's." The voice paused, the 's' in "Mungo's" hissing venomously. "I will tolerate no such indiscretion next time. You know the consequences of stupidity here."

The speaker turned away from the group and disappeared noiselessly. One by one, the inhabitants of the room exited. One of them appeared again in a dark alley of Hogsmeade a few seconds later.

Severus Snape pushed back his black hood and glanced up at the sky. Heavy storm clouds hovered above the town, threatening rain at any given moment. He pulled his hood back over his head, casting a brief water-repelling spell over himself, and began to walk briskly towards Hogwarts. Finding himself wishing he had brought a broom to his usual apparition point, he disregarded the thought with disgust—flying was undignified; only those idiots of Quidditch players did it. Snape had never had any particular talent in the area—and had never seen the need for such talent. What good would flying do one for the most part, when apparition was so much cleaner and faster?

As he trekked up the slopes near the walls bordering the grounds, Snape brooded to himself, his mood as dark as the sky above him. Tiresome meetings, tiresome tasks. The potions he brewed for their questionable uses. As he found himself doing more and more often, he considered again his motives for joining the ranks of Death Eaters that vied for the Dark Lord's favour.

He'd found the recent McCormack affair exceedingly distasteful. That particular combination of deadly curses—the Cruciatus Curse being used to excess, he firmly believed—was enough to drive anyone over the edge of sanity, never to return. How they had expected to glean any helpful information from the formerly intelligent organism writhing in mind-numbing pain on the floor was simply beyond him. A small dose of Veritaserum would have done the trick nicely—but before anyone could volunteer his services (Snape wasn't one much for volunteering), the man was long gone.

It would have been too late anyway, Snape mused, a bitter smile curling the corner of his lips. By the time the Veritaserum would have been ready, they had been forced to flee without their victim, as someone had been so careless as to perform an incomplete sound-blocking charm. Ministry officials had arrived on the scene, and the company had dispersed as quickly as possible, leaving the near-dead to be found unconscious on the floor. Several of the slower, more unfortunate ones had disappeared to Azkaban that night.

Snape shuddered. Was that what he had to look forward to? Azkaban? Power-hungry though he was, he had always imagined himself as Minister of Magic, Headmaster of Hogwarts, or in some other such weighty administrative position. As a child he used to dream—if such an idyllic term could be used for the pastime—of the day he would attain the Order of Merlin, First Class. It was true—the Dark Lord's favour could bring more power to him than he had ever hungered for. He might one day be in a position to send nasty individuals like Black to Azkaban where they belonged, or to put a rein on that insufferable friend of his, Lupin. That he would someday be hailed as a greater wizard than Dumbledore himself. The idea had, in the beginning, greatly enticed him to proximity with Voldemort. That, and just the tiniest hint of fear.

But how far was he willing to go?

Where did his loyalties truly lie?

Serving as Voldemort's potions-brewer was one thing; but the day would doubtless come when the Dark Lord tired of his inactivity and demanded that he take action to prove his loyalty—and that this proof would only suffice if taken in the form of two words: Avada Ked—

But could he really carry it out? Was he capable of that flash of green light, the whispering of the spirit leaving its host, the slump of the body upon the ground? Better to be the Cruciatus—inflicting pain rather than taking the ability to feel that pain itself?

Snape smirked. The workings of his mind were really becoming as warped and clouded as rumour made them out to be when he began thinking of it that way. He looked up to see the castle doors ahead.

Lifting his hand to secure his wand in his robes, Snape caught sight of the blackened mark that stood out against the pale skin of his forearm, and grimaced. The brand of the Dark Lord's servant. The symbol of an ownership he despised. Subordinate, compatriot—he could understand these words, could stomach them with tolerable ease—but slave, worshiper, property?

To attain power—but to remain at the beck and call of the burn on his arm for the rest of his life, however long that would be? To be eternally groveling, striving for the coveted right- and left-hand places, which were by no means any safer from the master's wrath as any other place in the master's sight?

He had reached the main doors, and he pushed them open soundlessly. Pulling off his cloak, he strode quickly through the corridors, casting a quick cleaning charm on his feet as he went. Passing Dumbledore's stone gargoyle, he caught a glimpse of Potter and Evans appearing from behind it. He paused and watched, dark eyes glowing, as the two of them meandered, hand-in-hand, through the halls. He did not begin to walk again until they had turned the corner.

"Have you considered what I asked you, Severus?"

He whipped around so quickly his robes slapped against his body as they billowed about him. The headmaster had always been expert at showing up behind one undetected. His frown deepening, he nodded abruptly. Dumbledore was looking at him, an unreadable expression in his blue eyes.

A long pause later, the headmaster nodded, then began walking in the opposite direction down the corridor. "Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Professor." With a final scowl to himself, Snape left for the dungeons.

Notes:

This is something of a filler chapter...not much Lily-James action and a lot of Snapey thoughts. I kinda like this rambliness though. But yes, definite return of fluff next chapter so never fear. :D

Hello Reviewers. :)

ta-tiana258 – Thanks for reviewing! Hopefully your computer is doing alright?

kellie – Relatively little fluff this time...but yes, there's fluff in the next chapter. So just hang on till then... ;) 7am for work? Oh, that must be horrible...I had a summer job a couple years back that started at 6:00 every morning and yes, that was AWFUL!!! I hated watching the sun rise...

everblue3 – Um, I think I rambled enough in the email I sent you to cover this response...hopefully your midterm-studying is going smoothly! I'm tempted to go leave more comments in reviews for your fic but I'm afraid I would just seem like a scary internet stalker then so I won't. ;D

Quack Quack 88 – Yeah, James and Lily are pretty prudish, aren't they? But, well, it's a PG fic, and I'm not so great at writing cutesy kiss scenes which is why I've been refraining. :) I thought about having them move into one room but I figured it would be unecessary explaining one of them moving to the other's room (besides, they don't have too much stuff with them anyway—I don't think—so it wouldn't be too big of a deal if one of them did move)...plus, they're pretty used to these living arrangements—it's how they lived in Hogwarts times, and all that. Hmm...yes. Did that address your comments? Sorry, I'm not really sure what to say :D But thanks for reviewing, and I'll keep it in mind for the next chapter...(note to self: more Lily-James love-y scenes....)

Selene – Yes, I think I'm going to write all the way to their deaths. And then I might go on and write some more in another fic...hm...we'll see. :D It's rather depressing, I agree...I'm always so sad when reading about it in other people's fic, but I guess I don't have too big of a problem with writing it in my own. I wonder why that is....

Kirbee – heeheeheheheeeeeee....I personally liked that beginning of chapter 10 a lot myself....XD

rosezgarden – LOL, having Trelawney's prediction make Voldemort into a magical King Herod? Whoa, there. I wouldn't have drawn that connection...but that's interesting....::rubs chin:: I wonder.........Ahem. Anyway. Yes, Lily is now wearing her wedding band. :D Um, I'm not sure what else to say to you besides a big HUG and thank-you for the lovely reviews all the time :) You always give such positive comments I'm not quite sure how to respond. ;D