Chapter 13 – A Trust Betrayed
Professor Sejanus Sartoris entered Headmaster Dumbledore's office, expecting to receive a progress report on young Snape. Instead, what he received from the Headmaster was far different indeed.
"Have a seat, Sejanus, do," Albus said, gesturing toward a stuffed chair while Dumbledore stayed behind his podium desk.
There wasn't even any tea. The Potions Master began to feel a quiver of trepidation.
"I wanted to talk to you about a matter involving trust – my trust in you as one of my professors and Master of this School."
Sartoris felt a prickle of apprehension run up his spine.
Dumbledore peered at the man over his half-moon spectacles. "There is no sharper pain than a trust betrayed."
"I am not sure what you mean, Albus," he returned evenly.
"Of course you do. Like a viper, you have used this institution of learning to wind your coils around at least one of our young pupils."
"I beg your pardon," Sartoris sniffed.
His Slytherin arrogance didn't fool Dumbledore. "Let's not waste each other's time playing little games, Sartoris. You are a devotee of Tom Riddle, just as surely as Maledictis Snape, Avaris Malfoy, and a number of other pureblood wizards I could name. I know it and you know it."
"My political affiliations are none of the school's business," Sartoris returned, his own power rising in his breast.
"Political affiliations are none of the school's business, and therefore none of my business. However, law forbids the practice of the Dark arts. Rallying behind a Dark wizard who has designs on taking over the reins of the wizarding world is similarly proscribed. Those issues are, in fact, wholeheartedly my business – particularly when they involve the tutelage of our pupils."
"Your charges are ridiculous. You have no grounds for making such accusations, Headmaster Dumbledore. How dare you!"
Albus smiled, seeing through the Dark wizard's ruse. "How dare I? I have just returned from St. Mungo's, having paid yet another visit to a young man nearly ruined by ill-usage by Dark folk like his father – and by you too, for all I know."
Sartoris sprang to his feet. "I have never harmed the Snape boy! Where is your proof?"
Albus stood and walked around his desk, stopping a moment to stroke Fawkes' plumage. "I don't need any, Sejanus. You see, the hiring and firing of professors here is within my purview, and mine alone. Though you purport to care for young Severus, your interest has been, and remains, purely mercenary. Your Dark Lord wishes to use his potion making talents to wage war on those of us who choose to live in the Light. You even kept Severus alive after his poisoning not for him, but for your Dark Lord instead."
"I deny it all!"
"As is your right, Sejanus. As it is mine to sack your miserable, lying, and conniving carcass, right now." Dumbledore circled to the other side of the desk and waved his hand at a stack of books, transfiguring them into a comfortable Victorian-style wing chair. He took a seat. "That, of course, is up to you."
The Potions Master dropped his eyes from Albus' face, and in that moment Dumbledore knew he had him.
"Very well. I do follow the career of Lord Voldemort with some interest. But I deny harming Severus Snape or any other child under my care. If I hadn't been there to save him, Albus, he would have died in your arms shortly after the Holiday and you would have visited his grave today instead of St. Mungo's."
"Granted, Sejanus," Dumbledore said, ringing for one of the elves, who instantly apparated with a loud pop.
"What you be wanting, sirs?" she said with an awkward curtsey.
"Tea – and some poppyseed lemon cake. Sejanus, what is your pleasure?"
"Nothing."
"Very well," shrugged Dumbledore. "That will be all for now, Missy."
"Very goods, Headmaster sir." She disapparated just as quickly.
"It angers me no end to realize that for all this time you have been in league with that evil piece of filth who calls himself that boy's father, and behind my back. The child's prowess at Potions must be great for your Dark Lord to want him so badly."
Sartoris raised his chin, and a very Malfoy-like sneer touched his lips. "He is an outstanding Potions student, I grant you that," he replied without a trace of emotion, "and thanks to my tutelage, I might add."
"And Snape cudgeled and maltreated him since his earliest memories, all to make him needy enough to cling to anyone who showed him the slightest bit of attention later on – you, for instance. To ruin a young man's life in order to secure your Master another poison-merchant is beyond foul, Sejanus. It is, in fact, criminal."
Sartoris' eyes widened. Was he going to be arrested?
The elf suddenly appeared, bearing tea and cake. She transfigured another pile of books (for there were a great many cluttering the floor) into a small table, leaving it there.
"Ah, good. And now, in fact, Professor Sartoris, it's time to talk about your future at Hogwarts. Cake?"
The Potions Master sneered. "Let's get on with it, Albus."
"Fine. Oh, lovely poppyseed cake! You really should give it a try!"
The professor began to swear under his breath about a doddering old fool, and then remembered that the same doddering old fool had just handed him his own head. "No thank you, Headmaster. What are your conditions for keeping me employed here?"
"No further contact with anyone known or even suspected by me to be a follower of Tom Riddle – who knows where he picked up that other name, let alone the appellation of 'Lord'! It just shows his arrogance, in my opinion. No further contact with anyone known or suspected by me to practice the Dark arts. In fact, I will keep a constant track of your whereabouts. You will not be permitted to communicate via owl or any other means unless I have approved the message beforehand. You will spend school holidays here, making yourself useful to this institution of learning by conducting scholarly pursuits, not advancing the overthrow of our method of government. If you want visitors, they will be welcome to visit you here – after I approve them, of course. And, of course, you will keep your hooks off Severus Snape or any other of the children under my care. In short, both you and your great 'Dark Lord' can go to the very devil for all I care."
Sartoris made a noise of disgust.
"Or," Dumbledore continued, "you can pack your bags and leave this place. And once you step beyond the boundaries of Hogwarts, I will notify the Ministry of Magic about your suspected activities and we will let the Aurors – or, better yet, the Dementors – sort it all out."
The Headmaster took a swallow of tea, dribbling a drop onto his beard, which he blotted with a napkin. "Well then, Sejanus – what will your answer be?"
The Dark wizard stood, his fists balled in anger. "I will stay, and under your conditions. The Potions Master at Durmstrang most likely won't die for another twenty years and I don't fancy waiting for another vacancy."
"Very good. Thank you for coming by to see me. I really wish you'd try some of this cake. It really is marvelous!"
Instead of a reply, the Headmaster received the slamming of his office door as Sejanus Sartoris swept from the room.
"Fine," Dumbledore said, half to himself and half to Fawkes. "All the more for me!"
Professor Sejanus Sartoris entered Headmaster Dumbledore's office, expecting to receive a progress report on young Snape. Instead, what he received from the Headmaster was far different indeed.
"Have a seat, Sejanus, do," Albus said, gesturing toward a stuffed chair while Dumbledore stayed behind his podium desk.
There wasn't even any tea. The Potions Master began to feel a quiver of trepidation.
"I wanted to talk to you about a matter involving trust – my trust in you as one of my professors and Master of this School."
Sartoris felt a prickle of apprehension run up his spine.
Dumbledore peered at the man over his half-moon spectacles. "There is no sharper pain than a trust betrayed."
"I am not sure what you mean, Albus," he returned evenly.
"Of course you do. Like a viper, you have used this institution of learning to wind your coils around at least one of our young pupils."
"I beg your pardon," Sartoris sniffed.
His Slytherin arrogance didn't fool Dumbledore. "Let's not waste each other's time playing little games, Sartoris. You are a devotee of Tom Riddle, just as surely as Maledictis Snape, Avaris Malfoy, and a number of other pureblood wizards I could name. I know it and you know it."
"My political affiliations are none of the school's business," Sartoris returned, his own power rising in his breast.
"Political affiliations are none of the school's business, and therefore none of my business. However, law forbids the practice of the Dark arts. Rallying behind a Dark wizard who has designs on taking over the reins of the wizarding world is similarly proscribed. Those issues are, in fact, wholeheartedly my business – particularly when they involve the tutelage of our pupils."
"Your charges are ridiculous. You have no grounds for making such accusations, Headmaster Dumbledore. How dare you!"
Albus smiled, seeing through the Dark wizard's ruse. "How dare I? I have just returned from St. Mungo's, having paid yet another visit to a young man nearly ruined by ill-usage by Dark folk like his father – and by you too, for all I know."
Sartoris sprang to his feet. "I have never harmed the Snape boy! Where is your proof?"
Albus stood and walked around his desk, stopping a moment to stroke Fawkes' plumage. "I don't need any, Sejanus. You see, the hiring and firing of professors here is within my purview, and mine alone. Though you purport to care for young Severus, your interest has been, and remains, purely mercenary. Your Dark Lord wishes to use his potion making talents to wage war on those of us who choose to live in the Light. You even kept Severus alive after his poisoning not for him, but for your Dark Lord instead."
"I deny it all!"
"As is your right, Sejanus. As it is mine to sack your miserable, lying, and conniving carcass, right now." Dumbledore circled to the other side of the desk and waved his hand at a stack of books, transfiguring them into a comfortable Victorian-style wing chair. He took a seat. "That, of course, is up to you."
The Potions Master dropped his eyes from Albus' face, and in that moment Dumbledore knew he had him.
"Very well. I do follow the career of Lord Voldemort with some interest. But I deny harming Severus Snape or any other child under my care. If I hadn't been there to save him, Albus, he would have died in your arms shortly after the Holiday and you would have visited his grave today instead of St. Mungo's."
"Granted, Sejanus," Dumbledore said, ringing for one of the elves, who instantly apparated with a loud pop.
"What you be wanting, sirs?" she said with an awkward curtsey.
"Tea – and some poppyseed lemon cake. Sejanus, what is your pleasure?"
"Nothing."
"Very well," shrugged Dumbledore. "That will be all for now, Missy."
"Very goods, Headmaster sir." She disapparated just as quickly.
"It angers me no end to realize that for all this time you have been in league with that evil piece of filth who calls himself that boy's father, and behind my back. The child's prowess at Potions must be great for your Dark Lord to want him so badly."
Sartoris raised his chin, and a very Malfoy-like sneer touched his lips. "He is an outstanding Potions student, I grant you that," he replied without a trace of emotion, "and thanks to my tutelage, I might add."
"And Snape cudgeled and maltreated him since his earliest memories, all to make him needy enough to cling to anyone who showed him the slightest bit of attention later on – you, for instance. To ruin a young man's life in order to secure your Master another poison-merchant is beyond foul, Sejanus. It is, in fact, criminal."
Sartoris' eyes widened. Was he going to be arrested?
The elf suddenly appeared, bearing tea and cake. She transfigured another pile of books (for there were a great many cluttering the floor) into a small table, leaving it there.
"Ah, good. And now, in fact, Professor Sartoris, it's time to talk about your future at Hogwarts. Cake?"
The Potions Master sneered. "Let's get on with it, Albus."
"Fine. Oh, lovely poppyseed cake! You really should give it a try!"
The professor began to swear under his breath about a doddering old fool, and then remembered that the same doddering old fool had just handed him his own head. "No thank you, Headmaster. What are your conditions for keeping me employed here?"
"No further contact with anyone known or even suspected by me to be a follower of Tom Riddle – who knows where he picked up that other name, let alone the appellation of 'Lord'! It just shows his arrogance, in my opinion. No further contact with anyone known or suspected by me to practice the Dark arts. In fact, I will keep a constant track of your whereabouts. You will not be permitted to communicate via owl or any other means unless I have approved the message beforehand. You will spend school holidays here, making yourself useful to this institution of learning by conducting scholarly pursuits, not advancing the overthrow of our method of government. If you want visitors, they will be welcome to visit you here – after I approve them, of course. And, of course, you will keep your hooks off Severus Snape or any other of the children under my care. In short, both you and your great 'Dark Lord' can go to the very devil for all I care."
Sartoris made a noise of disgust.
"Or," Dumbledore continued, "you can pack your bags and leave this place. And once you step beyond the boundaries of Hogwarts, I will notify the Ministry of Magic about your suspected activities and we will let the Aurors – or, better yet, the Dementors – sort it all out."
The Headmaster took a swallow of tea, dribbling a drop onto his beard, which he blotted with a napkin. "Well then, Sejanus – what will your answer be?"
The Dark wizard stood, his fists balled in anger. "I will stay, and under your conditions. The Potions Master at Durmstrang most likely won't die for another twenty years and I don't fancy waiting for another vacancy."
"Very good. Thank you for coming by to see me. I really wish you'd try some of this cake. It really is marvelous!"
Instead of a reply, the Headmaster received the slamming of his office door as Sejanus Sartoris swept from the room.
"Fine," Dumbledore said, half to himself and half to Fawkes. "All the more for me!"