Yet again, I have to announce that I don't own any of the things I'm
writing about. I don't even own a lemon drop right now. How very
disappointing.
I'm sorry for the slowness of my updates. I have no excuses. I shall now go slam my ears in the oven door, like a house elf. No, maybe not...that would probably hurt.
Please, please, PLEASE review after you read. Encouragement helps me get motivated to write the next chapter. If people really love the story and tell me so, I feel guilty when I don't update for a while. So if you like it, be sure to let me know!
Once again, thanks to my evil beta reader, Katy. What I write depends upon what she finds funny...
Chapter Nine:
Paranoia
Severus hurried purposefully away from the Dark Lord's lair, disapparating mid-stride. He reappeared just outside of Hogsmeade with a loud popping noise, and charged up the hill toward Hogwarts. He stalked through the gates flanked by winged boars, across the school grounds, and into the castle. The agitated man did not even bother to return the evidence of his illegal activities and youthful errors, his mask and hooded cloak, to his office, instead opting to pay his scheming boss an immediate surprise visit.
Snape was fuming. He was absolutely furious, both with Albus and with himself. He had actually blurted out the truth of his role as a spy, and to none other than the Dark Lord himself! Severus was frankly amazed to be alive and unharmed. Since becoming a spy for Dumbledore, he had spent an inordinate amount of his free time imagining the situation he was now experiencing. He always envisioned that another Death Eater would reveal his duplicity; someone like Bellatrix LeStrange seemed likely to investigate him and announce his betrayal to her master. Always in his nightmares, both waking and asleep, the Dark Lord would call him forward, unmask him, and proclaim his treachery to the circle of his minions. Then, Severus could only assume that he would have to endure an excessive amount of torture, until death would finally seem welcoming.
The truth was, Snape mused, that Dumbledore's cryptic refusal to more fully inform his one operative in the Death Eater ranks about his plans could easily have resulted in Severus's protracted, painful, and untimely death. In fact, the greasy-haired potions master could think of no reasonable explanation for his own continued survival! Had Severus believed in miracles, he would have classified Lord Voldemort's failure to murder him as nothing short of the work of God.
However, not being even remotely religious, the only other explanation Severus could find for his former master's bizarre behavior was sheer madness. The Dark Lord was finally cracking up, and Snape owed his life to that mental breakdown. It was the only logical theory he could think of. After all, evil dark wizards don't cry. Extreme Machiavellian sadists like the Dark Lord tend to refrain from such displays of emotion!
There was no doubt in Severus Snape's mind that Albus Dumbledore had done something to precipitate the Dark Lord's psychological crisis. If nothing else positive could be said about Lord Voldemort, at least he was generally predictable. One could always expect cruelty from the Dark Lord, whether that cruelty was immediate or delayed.
It would take a powerful and crafty wizard to impact anyone's psyche as profoundly as the Dark Lord's apparently had been, and Lord Voldemort's rampant paranoia lead him to magically protect his mind more thoroughly than the average wizard could even dream of. Only Dumbledore had both the means and the motive to cause Voldemort's sudden attack of emotion. Severus could come to no other conclusion that made sense.
Didn't the old man realize that he could have caused his potions master's death? Severus vowed to force an explanation out of his superior. For Merlin's sake, the Dark Lord had been weeping!
Severus finally reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, and he ceased his deliberations. "Puking Pastilles," he snapped exasperatedly. The gargoyle rolled its stone eyes at the headmaster's choice of passwords, sympathizing with the potions master. Still shaking his head at the headmaster's antics, Snape stepped onto the spiral staircase and rode up to the door leading to Dumbledore's office. He barged right in, neglecting to make use of the griffin-shaped knocker, not really caring if he interrupted anything.
The office, which was full of magical instruments in various states of disrepair, muggle sweets and newspapers, dozens of napping portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses, and a large scarlet and gold bird was devoid of its usual human inhabitant.
Snape sighed, irritated at the headmaster's absence. The old coot was constantly demanding his presence when the potions master was otherwise occupied, but when Severus actually wanted to speak to him, Albus was nowhere to be found. Looking at his watch, Snape realized that it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon, which meant that Albus was most likely in the school's kitchens. Everyday, the headmaster enjoyed a mid- afternoon snack of a hot fudge sundae and a glass of pumpkin juice. His daily visits also served the purpose of allowing him to chat with the Hogwarts house elves, whom he found to be extremely amusing creatures. Dumbledore would probably not return for at least fifteen or twenty minutes; more, if he felt like taking a stroll around the school grounds. He often stopped to skip stones on the lake, and to toss slightly stale pieces of bread to the giant squid that inhabited it.
With a groan, Severus collapsed onto one of the two chairs in front of Albus's desk, determined to remain in that exact spot until his questions were satisfactorily answered. He was prepared for a long wait, and decided to occupy the time in a useful manner: he sat there, incubating his anger toward the headmaster.
Snape was just building up his rage to the point of indignation when, to his great surprise, the door behind his back clicked open and Fawkes took flight. The phoenix landed on a shoulder clad in orange fabric with bright pink stars.
"Severus, my boy! I had an inkling that I might find you waiting for me here," greeted Albus Dumbledore, with a smile that made his blue eyes twinkle merrily. "I cut my conversation with Dobby short so that I could assist you. What a fascinating creature that Dobby is! Did you know that he has a sock collection to rival my own?"
Albus crossed the room and sat down behind his massive desk. He stroked his pet phoenix with one hand, while straightening his half-moon glasses with the other. His hypnotic gaze met Severus's eyes questioningly.
A momentary staring contest ensued, neither man willing to be the first to speak. Finally, Severus could no longer endure the suspense.
"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin have you done to the Dark Lord, Albus?" he exploded.
"What have I done to Lord Voldemort?" Dumbledore paraphrased Snape's question. Severus himself cringed at the voicing of the Dark Lord's name.
"Do not be afraid of his name, Severus," Dumbledore admonished. "It's just an anagram. Delightful games, anagrams. I often find that doing the daily anagram puzzle in the morning Prophet-"
"Don't try to change the subject, Albus," Snape warned the evasive headmaster.
Dumbledore arranged his features into a politely puzzled expression. "What in the world do you mean, Severus? Please be more specific in your questioning."
"Get out of it, Albus!" Snape very nearly shouted. "I was just summoned to the Dark Lord's side, and do you have any idea what I found there?"
"Please, dear boy, enlighten me as to what you encountered," said Dumbledore, assuming the role of Severus's confidant, with the air of what the muggles referred to as a psychologist.
"The Dark Lord was crying, Albus. He was actually weeping! Don't even try to convince me of your innocence in the matter. I know better than to believe any claims of that kind from you. He summoned me because he thought he was ill, and he wanted to request a curative potion from me. However, I discovered that he wasn't ill; he had only been crying! The sight of a teary-eyed Dark Lord certainly ranked high on the list of things I never expected to encounter during my lifetime. As a matter of fact, I was under the impression that it was absolutely impossible! Doesn't it sound just the slightest bit odd to you, Albus? With the exception of rage, of course, the Dark Lord has never before given even the slightest indication that he feels any kind of human emotion. All of the evidence has pointed to the contrary. You yourself have theorized that he utilized some form of obscure dark magic to rid himself of all of what he perceived as human weaknesses. Today, I apparated into his lair and found him crying. He actually thought that his eyes were leaking, Albus! That's how long it had been since he had last shed a single tear."
"That is simply amazing, Severus," said Dumbledore in a mildly amused voice. However well controlled the headmaster's expression was, Snape could detect the barely controlled excitement and triumph in his brightly twinkling eyes. "However, I fail to understand how I am responsible for Lord Voldemort's sudden attack of empathy."
Snape desperately fought to suppress the urge to strangle his boss with his bare hands, and instead clenched his fists and jaw. A pulsating vein became plainly visible on his left temple.
"Albus," he began in a dangerous tone, "I am not one to believe in coincidences. I am aware that you recently implemented some sort of plan to defeat the Dark Lord. You are also being very evasive when questioned about the important mission that you assigned me last week. I believe that I have a right to know what is going on! After all, I regularly risk my life for these little plans of yours. What if one of them went awry?"
"I assure you, Severus, I have taken all the necessary precautions to keep you safe. All of your questions will be answered in time. You must calm down before you give yourself a stroke," said Albus placidly.
"All of the necessary precautions, Albus? Well, I was so shocked and confused by the Dark Lord's behavior this afternoon that I blurted out that I am spying against him! I could have been killed, and my death would have been due to your negligence. You cannot just leave me to operate without adequate information, Albus. I was so bewildered that I nearly lost my life, which would therefore have lost your one link to the Death Eaters!"
"Please try to relax, Severus," Dumbledore responded. "You're too tense for your own good. I don't like the way your face has gotten so red. Would you care for some tea and biscuits? That always makes me feel less agitated."
"I'm tense because I was nearly murdered not an hour ago!" Severus leapt to his feet, yelling at the elderly headmaster. "I need answers, and I need them immediately. Tell my why I was not brutally tortured to death, Albus! I have the right to know!"
"Please have a lemon drop, Severus. They are wonderful for easing tension. You are much too anxious for your own good. It certainly can't be healthy for you."
Snape let out a howl of frustration. It was perfectly clear that Dumbledore would tell him nothing of use until he was ready. Severus could only hope that no surprises would lead to his own demise before then.
"No, absolutely no lemon drops, Albus. I know those sweets are somehow involved in your little plot too!" Snape eyed the candy warily. If lemon drops were powerful enough to effect the Dark Lord, who knew what they could do to Hogwarts' resident snarky potions master. He knew that accusing sweets of harming anybody sounded quite a bit less than sane, but he was certain that the lemon drops were integral to the headmaster's plan. Therefore, he blamed the candies, as well as his elderly superior, for the slip-up that by all accounts should have ended his life.
"I'm quite sure that I have no idea what you mean, Severus, "said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs with his twinkling gaze directed at the ceiling.
"I can see that you're not going to tell me anything, but I vow to figure out what your latest plan is!" Severus bellowed to the headmaster. Dumbledore just smiled at the belligerent man, and continued to twiddle his thumbs contentedly.
Snape could do nothing but make an exasperated noise, turn on his heel, and stalk out of the headmaster's office with his black robes billowing ominously behind him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
One pale, long-fingered hand eased into the brown paper bag. Lord Voldemort's fingertips felt around, searching for a morsel of the sugary sweet that his very being ached for.
He felt nothing. A sudden panic seized the Dark Lord, and he ripped the sides of the paper bag open in desperation. He needed to find a lemon drop, just one more lemon drop!
They were gone. Lord Voldemort had eaten an entire one-pound bag of lemon drops in less than twenty-four hours.
He spotted a few sparkling granules on the bottom of the bag. He poured the crumbs onto the palm of his hand and hungrily devoured those sweet leftover dregs. Still unsatisfied, the Dark Lord brought the mutilated muggle paper bag to his mouth and licked it clean, ensuring that no particle of sugar or lemon flavoring lingered on the packaging surface.
He needed more! Lord Voldemort knew that he would never be able to function without the sweets. He relied on them to make it through the day. The sour-sweet flavor loosened his tightly wound nerves, relaxed his mind, and relieved the headaches he seemed to get every few hours. Without his lemon drops, the Dark Lord Voldemort would be no more than a sobbing pile of robes on the inlayed parquet floor!
That need acknowledged, the Dark Lord began to ready himself for another journey. This would be his second friendly excursion into the muggle world since he was eleven years old.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Severus Snape sat in the nearly deserted Hogwarts library amongst a mountain of tomes and scholarly journals. He impatiently flipped through one of the large, dusty, leather-bound volumes, obviously searching for something important.
To the casual observer, Snape's behavior would not seem particularly strange. However, the books he was avidly perusing were not his usual potions manuals. They were history books, and most of them had been pulled directly from the shelves of the restricted section.
Severus was completely fed up with Dumbledore's mysteriousness. He knew that the headmaster would continue to feign ignorance and innocence until his plot was carried out and finished, so the Death Eater-turned-teacher had decided to try another route, hoping it would lead to the answers he sought.
Knowing that Dumbledore had defeated dark wizards before, Snape figured that it couldn't hurt to read the accounts of Grindlewald's vanquishing. So here he sat, a biographical anthology of the twentieth century's most dangerous dark wizards open on the desk in front of him.
He skipped the sections about Grindlewald's formative years; he had no time for a sociological study of the long-dead wizard. He quickly skimmed the descriptions of the dark wizard's rise to power, and his aspirations for when he obtained that power. Finally, he found what he sought: a photograph of a much younger Albus Dumbledore, smiling that same mysterious smile, with his blue eyes twinkling.
Without much hope of finding any similarities between the situation he was living and the one he was researching, Severus began to read the section about Grindlewald's defeat. He already knew most of what was written. In 1945, at the height of the dark wizard's reign of terror, an eccentric Hogwarts transfiguration professor named Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had vanquished Grindlewald. Albus had become an immediate celebrity and hero, as the wizarding world celebrated the end of the war, just as the muggles had similarly rejoiced at the end of theirs.
Severus was surprised to see that the particular book he was reading did not end with the wizarding world's euphoria at the end of the dark era. There was one extra paragraph, and its contents made Snape gasp aloud.
All that was found when Albus Dumbledore finished with Grindlewald was the dark wizard's big toe and one solitary lemon drop.
I'm sorry for the slowness of my updates. I have no excuses. I shall now go slam my ears in the oven door, like a house elf. No, maybe not...that would probably hurt.
Please, please, PLEASE review after you read. Encouragement helps me get motivated to write the next chapter. If people really love the story and tell me so, I feel guilty when I don't update for a while. So if you like it, be sure to let me know!
Once again, thanks to my evil beta reader, Katy. What I write depends upon what she finds funny...
Chapter Nine:
Paranoia
Severus hurried purposefully away from the Dark Lord's lair, disapparating mid-stride. He reappeared just outside of Hogsmeade with a loud popping noise, and charged up the hill toward Hogwarts. He stalked through the gates flanked by winged boars, across the school grounds, and into the castle. The agitated man did not even bother to return the evidence of his illegal activities and youthful errors, his mask and hooded cloak, to his office, instead opting to pay his scheming boss an immediate surprise visit.
Snape was fuming. He was absolutely furious, both with Albus and with himself. He had actually blurted out the truth of his role as a spy, and to none other than the Dark Lord himself! Severus was frankly amazed to be alive and unharmed. Since becoming a spy for Dumbledore, he had spent an inordinate amount of his free time imagining the situation he was now experiencing. He always envisioned that another Death Eater would reveal his duplicity; someone like Bellatrix LeStrange seemed likely to investigate him and announce his betrayal to her master. Always in his nightmares, both waking and asleep, the Dark Lord would call him forward, unmask him, and proclaim his treachery to the circle of his minions. Then, Severus could only assume that he would have to endure an excessive amount of torture, until death would finally seem welcoming.
The truth was, Snape mused, that Dumbledore's cryptic refusal to more fully inform his one operative in the Death Eater ranks about his plans could easily have resulted in Severus's protracted, painful, and untimely death. In fact, the greasy-haired potions master could think of no reasonable explanation for his own continued survival! Had Severus believed in miracles, he would have classified Lord Voldemort's failure to murder him as nothing short of the work of God.
However, not being even remotely religious, the only other explanation Severus could find for his former master's bizarre behavior was sheer madness. The Dark Lord was finally cracking up, and Snape owed his life to that mental breakdown. It was the only logical theory he could think of. After all, evil dark wizards don't cry. Extreme Machiavellian sadists like the Dark Lord tend to refrain from such displays of emotion!
There was no doubt in Severus Snape's mind that Albus Dumbledore had done something to precipitate the Dark Lord's psychological crisis. If nothing else positive could be said about Lord Voldemort, at least he was generally predictable. One could always expect cruelty from the Dark Lord, whether that cruelty was immediate or delayed.
It would take a powerful and crafty wizard to impact anyone's psyche as profoundly as the Dark Lord's apparently had been, and Lord Voldemort's rampant paranoia lead him to magically protect his mind more thoroughly than the average wizard could even dream of. Only Dumbledore had both the means and the motive to cause Voldemort's sudden attack of emotion. Severus could come to no other conclusion that made sense.
Didn't the old man realize that he could have caused his potions master's death? Severus vowed to force an explanation out of his superior. For Merlin's sake, the Dark Lord had been weeping!
Severus finally reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, and he ceased his deliberations. "Puking Pastilles," he snapped exasperatedly. The gargoyle rolled its stone eyes at the headmaster's choice of passwords, sympathizing with the potions master. Still shaking his head at the headmaster's antics, Snape stepped onto the spiral staircase and rode up to the door leading to Dumbledore's office. He barged right in, neglecting to make use of the griffin-shaped knocker, not really caring if he interrupted anything.
The office, which was full of magical instruments in various states of disrepair, muggle sweets and newspapers, dozens of napping portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses, and a large scarlet and gold bird was devoid of its usual human inhabitant.
Snape sighed, irritated at the headmaster's absence. The old coot was constantly demanding his presence when the potions master was otherwise occupied, but when Severus actually wanted to speak to him, Albus was nowhere to be found. Looking at his watch, Snape realized that it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon, which meant that Albus was most likely in the school's kitchens. Everyday, the headmaster enjoyed a mid- afternoon snack of a hot fudge sundae and a glass of pumpkin juice. His daily visits also served the purpose of allowing him to chat with the Hogwarts house elves, whom he found to be extremely amusing creatures. Dumbledore would probably not return for at least fifteen or twenty minutes; more, if he felt like taking a stroll around the school grounds. He often stopped to skip stones on the lake, and to toss slightly stale pieces of bread to the giant squid that inhabited it.
With a groan, Severus collapsed onto one of the two chairs in front of Albus's desk, determined to remain in that exact spot until his questions were satisfactorily answered. He was prepared for a long wait, and decided to occupy the time in a useful manner: he sat there, incubating his anger toward the headmaster.
Snape was just building up his rage to the point of indignation when, to his great surprise, the door behind his back clicked open and Fawkes took flight. The phoenix landed on a shoulder clad in orange fabric with bright pink stars.
"Severus, my boy! I had an inkling that I might find you waiting for me here," greeted Albus Dumbledore, with a smile that made his blue eyes twinkle merrily. "I cut my conversation with Dobby short so that I could assist you. What a fascinating creature that Dobby is! Did you know that he has a sock collection to rival my own?"
Albus crossed the room and sat down behind his massive desk. He stroked his pet phoenix with one hand, while straightening his half-moon glasses with the other. His hypnotic gaze met Severus's eyes questioningly.
A momentary staring contest ensued, neither man willing to be the first to speak. Finally, Severus could no longer endure the suspense.
"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin have you done to the Dark Lord, Albus?" he exploded.
"What have I done to Lord Voldemort?" Dumbledore paraphrased Snape's question. Severus himself cringed at the voicing of the Dark Lord's name.
"Do not be afraid of his name, Severus," Dumbledore admonished. "It's just an anagram. Delightful games, anagrams. I often find that doing the daily anagram puzzle in the morning Prophet-"
"Don't try to change the subject, Albus," Snape warned the evasive headmaster.
Dumbledore arranged his features into a politely puzzled expression. "What in the world do you mean, Severus? Please be more specific in your questioning."
"Get out of it, Albus!" Snape very nearly shouted. "I was just summoned to the Dark Lord's side, and do you have any idea what I found there?"
"Please, dear boy, enlighten me as to what you encountered," said Dumbledore, assuming the role of Severus's confidant, with the air of what the muggles referred to as a psychologist.
"The Dark Lord was crying, Albus. He was actually weeping! Don't even try to convince me of your innocence in the matter. I know better than to believe any claims of that kind from you. He summoned me because he thought he was ill, and he wanted to request a curative potion from me. However, I discovered that he wasn't ill; he had only been crying! The sight of a teary-eyed Dark Lord certainly ranked high on the list of things I never expected to encounter during my lifetime. As a matter of fact, I was under the impression that it was absolutely impossible! Doesn't it sound just the slightest bit odd to you, Albus? With the exception of rage, of course, the Dark Lord has never before given even the slightest indication that he feels any kind of human emotion. All of the evidence has pointed to the contrary. You yourself have theorized that he utilized some form of obscure dark magic to rid himself of all of what he perceived as human weaknesses. Today, I apparated into his lair and found him crying. He actually thought that his eyes were leaking, Albus! That's how long it had been since he had last shed a single tear."
"That is simply amazing, Severus," said Dumbledore in a mildly amused voice. However well controlled the headmaster's expression was, Snape could detect the barely controlled excitement and triumph in his brightly twinkling eyes. "However, I fail to understand how I am responsible for Lord Voldemort's sudden attack of empathy."
Snape desperately fought to suppress the urge to strangle his boss with his bare hands, and instead clenched his fists and jaw. A pulsating vein became plainly visible on his left temple.
"Albus," he began in a dangerous tone, "I am not one to believe in coincidences. I am aware that you recently implemented some sort of plan to defeat the Dark Lord. You are also being very evasive when questioned about the important mission that you assigned me last week. I believe that I have a right to know what is going on! After all, I regularly risk my life for these little plans of yours. What if one of them went awry?"
"I assure you, Severus, I have taken all the necessary precautions to keep you safe. All of your questions will be answered in time. You must calm down before you give yourself a stroke," said Albus placidly.
"All of the necessary precautions, Albus? Well, I was so shocked and confused by the Dark Lord's behavior this afternoon that I blurted out that I am spying against him! I could have been killed, and my death would have been due to your negligence. You cannot just leave me to operate without adequate information, Albus. I was so bewildered that I nearly lost my life, which would therefore have lost your one link to the Death Eaters!"
"Please try to relax, Severus," Dumbledore responded. "You're too tense for your own good. I don't like the way your face has gotten so red. Would you care for some tea and biscuits? That always makes me feel less agitated."
"I'm tense because I was nearly murdered not an hour ago!" Severus leapt to his feet, yelling at the elderly headmaster. "I need answers, and I need them immediately. Tell my why I was not brutally tortured to death, Albus! I have the right to know!"
"Please have a lemon drop, Severus. They are wonderful for easing tension. You are much too anxious for your own good. It certainly can't be healthy for you."
Snape let out a howl of frustration. It was perfectly clear that Dumbledore would tell him nothing of use until he was ready. Severus could only hope that no surprises would lead to his own demise before then.
"No, absolutely no lemon drops, Albus. I know those sweets are somehow involved in your little plot too!" Snape eyed the candy warily. If lemon drops were powerful enough to effect the Dark Lord, who knew what they could do to Hogwarts' resident snarky potions master. He knew that accusing sweets of harming anybody sounded quite a bit less than sane, but he was certain that the lemon drops were integral to the headmaster's plan. Therefore, he blamed the candies, as well as his elderly superior, for the slip-up that by all accounts should have ended his life.
"I'm quite sure that I have no idea what you mean, Severus, "said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs with his twinkling gaze directed at the ceiling.
"I can see that you're not going to tell me anything, but I vow to figure out what your latest plan is!" Severus bellowed to the headmaster. Dumbledore just smiled at the belligerent man, and continued to twiddle his thumbs contentedly.
Snape could do nothing but make an exasperated noise, turn on his heel, and stalk out of the headmaster's office with his black robes billowing ominously behind him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
One pale, long-fingered hand eased into the brown paper bag. Lord Voldemort's fingertips felt around, searching for a morsel of the sugary sweet that his very being ached for.
He felt nothing. A sudden panic seized the Dark Lord, and he ripped the sides of the paper bag open in desperation. He needed to find a lemon drop, just one more lemon drop!
They were gone. Lord Voldemort had eaten an entire one-pound bag of lemon drops in less than twenty-four hours.
He spotted a few sparkling granules on the bottom of the bag. He poured the crumbs onto the palm of his hand and hungrily devoured those sweet leftover dregs. Still unsatisfied, the Dark Lord brought the mutilated muggle paper bag to his mouth and licked it clean, ensuring that no particle of sugar or lemon flavoring lingered on the packaging surface.
He needed more! Lord Voldemort knew that he would never be able to function without the sweets. He relied on them to make it through the day. The sour-sweet flavor loosened his tightly wound nerves, relaxed his mind, and relieved the headaches he seemed to get every few hours. Without his lemon drops, the Dark Lord Voldemort would be no more than a sobbing pile of robes on the inlayed parquet floor!
That need acknowledged, the Dark Lord began to ready himself for another journey. This would be his second friendly excursion into the muggle world since he was eleven years old.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Severus Snape sat in the nearly deserted Hogwarts library amongst a mountain of tomes and scholarly journals. He impatiently flipped through one of the large, dusty, leather-bound volumes, obviously searching for something important.
To the casual observer, Snape's behavior would not seem particularly strange. However, the books he was avidly perusing were not his usual potions manuals. They were history books, and most of them had been pulled directly from the shelves of the restricted section.
Severus was completely fed up with Dumbledore's mysteriousness. He knew that the headmaster would continue to feign ignorance and innocence until his plot was carried out and finished, so the Death Eater-turned-teacher had decided to try another route, hoping it would lead to the answers he sought.
Knowing that Dumbledore had defeated dark wizards before, Snape figured that it couldn't hurt to read the accounts of Grindlewald's vanquishing. So here he sat, a biographical anthology of the twentieth century's most dangerous dark wizards open on the desk in front of him.
He skipped the sections about Grindlewald's formative years; he had no time for a sociological study of the long-dead wizard. He quickly skimmed the descriptions of the dark wizard's rise to power, and his aspirations for when he obtained that power. Finally, he found what he sought: a photograph of a much younger Albus Dumbledore, smiling that same mysterious smile, with his blue eyes twinkling.
Without much hope of finding any similarities between the situation he was living and the one he was researching, Severus began to read the section about Grindlewald's defeat. He already knew most of what was written. In 1945, at the height of the dark wizard's reign of terror, an eccentric Hogwarts transfiguration professor named Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had vanquished Grindlewald. Albus had become an immediate celebrity and hero, as the wizarding world celebrated the end of the war, just as the muggles had similarly rejoiced at the end of theirs.
Severus was surprised to see that the particular book he was reading did not end with the wizarding world's euphoria at the end of the dark era. There was one extra paragraph, and its contents made Snape gasp aloud.
All that was found when Albus Dumbledore finished with Grindlewald was the dark wizard's big toe and one solitary lemon drop.