Author's Notes: Our poor dear Potions master. In this chapter, he gets a
swift kick down the path to breakdown. Much angst and dark magic
nastiness.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not a bit of it. Not anything you recognize from the books at least.
Chapter 7: Sinking Deeper Into the Pit.
Morning came much too early for Professor Snape. Down in the dungeons of the Hogwarts castle, an enchanted clock began to chime. He sat up at the edge of his bed, fumbled for his wand, which he kept safely tucked under his pillow at night, muttered "Incendio" and flicked it towards the torches at the top of the walls. The room came into light. Torch and candlelight were the only sources of light in the professor's chambers, as no sunlight could penetrate into the dungeons and other subterranean areas of the school. He made his way to the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water, ran his fingers through his hair, and dressed in the robes that were laid out for him on the bedside chair by his house elf. The invisibility cloak was gone from the bedside table where he had folded and left it the night before; in its place was a scroll from headmaster Dumbledore. "Please join me in the staff dining hall when you awaken, so that you may give me your report on the activities that took place in town last night". Snape pocketed his wand, and set out to meet with the headmaster.
"Well Severus...when I received no report from you last night I assumed that no news is good news. Do you have anything of importance to report regarding the dance?"
"Nothing headmaster. Nothing at all. If there was a death eater attack planned for the festival, it was aborted".
The headmaster took a sip of his tea, and thought for a moment. He looked back up at the younger wizard and smiled. "Well, there may not have been a Death Eater raid. But our gamekeeper is nursing a serious hangover this morning, could you be so kind as to see that a vial of the appropriate morning after potion is sent over to Madame Pomfrey? It is not normally stocked in the school hospital wing's potion cabinets".
"Very well headmaster, after I throw something together to help the big lout deal with his night of overindulgence, I'll be working on the translation of the potion text that I found in the library archives. I trust I shall not be disturbed the rest of the day shall I?"
The older man simply nodded a yes and Snape rose from his chair, turned, and returned to his laboratory, ignoring Mr. Filch's greeting as the two men passed in the hall.
Snape settled at his desk and resumed work on the translation of the ancient text. It was a lucky find in the archives. A book of protective potion recipes derived from the basic deflecting drops. A witch or wizard going into battle could immunize themselves partially against curses and take more hits before succumbing. With a little tinkering, he could boost the effectiveness some and even allow for indirect hits with the major curses and even unforgivable curses to have a lesser impact on the victim. But nothing could disperse the full impact of a direct hit from one of the major or unforgivable curses. Cast at a victim by a witch or wizard accomplished in dark magic, they were every bit as destructive, even with protective potions.
Hours passed, the professor translated the text from Old English to the modern English painstakingly and slowly. Any mistake here could result in a curse amplifying potion or one that had simply no effect at all against curses. Snape didn't notice it at first, but the tingling of the dark mark on his arm gave way to burning, and the instant he felt the heat of the mark, a wave of coldness washed over him, and he felt a twisting in the pit of his stomach. He was being summoned.
He shut the text, put away his quill, and went into his private chambers. He opened a secret compartment in his armoire and removed a black hooded robe and mask. He pocketed them and hurried out of his chambers and up to the headmaster's office. He had to think for a moment to remember the current password to Dumbledore's office; it was "candy floss".
The door opened, and Snape stepped into the office, where the headmaster was sharing tea with the herbology instructor and keeper of the magical and decorative gardens, professor Sprout. The plump old witch looked up at Snape with a shocked look on her face. "Look at yourself Severus. You look a mess! You're so pale! You're pushing yourself way too hard, and when is the last time you've had a decent hot meal? Come sit and take tea with us, I was discussing the new crop of tiger mint plants with the headmaster, it's important that Filch keeps that cat of his away from it, it's potent stuff, tiger mint!"
"I'm sorry, I must decline the tea and conversation, may I please have a word in private with the headmaster, it is of the utmost importance" snapped the potions master.
Dumbledore looked at Snape with profound concern. The pale face, slight tremble in his right hand and look of haunted resignation in his eyes was all Dumbledore needed to see. Snape was being summoned, and every moment he wasted would only increase the burning of the mark, and result in a greater chance of a harsh reception by Voldemort.
The headmaster stood up, placed his hand on Sprout's shoulder, and told her that he would be but a moment, and led Snape out the door of his office and into the small alcove above the stairway. "Are you up to it?"
"I don't have a choice Albus, I have to go. Maybe I can find out why the raid didn't happen at the festival."
"Watch yourself Severus, you are still under suspicion of being a traitor."
Snape looked down at the ground, and then back up at the headmaster. Would this be the last time he ever saw his employer and friend? Dumbledore gently placed a hand on the potion master's shoulder. "Go with strength to endure what must be endured, and return home to us safely once again".
Snape turned and descended the staircase, and made his way through the school and across the grounds into the forest. When he got farther back past the edge of the tree line, past the magical barriers that protect the school, he removed the thin hooded robe from his pocket, unfolded it and pulled it on, placed the mask on his face, and apparated to meet his destiny.
His feet hit the ground, and he found himself in the dungeon of a castle ruin. Some diffuse afternoon sunlight filtered down through cracks in the masonry and illuminated the room. He was in a small chamber, approximately ten by twelve feet. There were a few other masked and robed figures already there, and soon another apparated into the room. In the shadows, on an ornate chair, sat Lord Voldemort, the dark one, the most dangerous and destructive wizard of the time.
He rose and walked over to inspect his troops. Still weak, but very much alive, he struck fear in all who looked upon his scarred and ashen face, even those who pledged their lives and loyalty to him as his followers. One by one, the Death Eaters bowed their heads as their master passed them by. Being in his presence was being in the presence of a powerful energy well. Emotion, warmth, the very life-force within a person seemed to be slowly drained away whenever he was nearby, almost like being in the presence of a dementor.
He stopped at one of the wizards, a smallish man. Snape had an idea who it was, a fairly young man who was once with the ministry but who had turned his allegiance to the dark side out of fear rather than loyalty to the cause. He wouldn't last long in this life thought Snape. The man started to whimper and make apologies for his part in a raid gone wrong where two other death eaters were captured by the ministry and facing charges in Azkaban prison. The man fell to his knees and started to grovel at Voldemort's feet. One of the Death Eaters standing next to him kicked him violently and sharply in the ribcage and told him to stand and meet his master with honor, like a man. The man stood on shaking legs, and with a look of utter contempt and disgust, the dark lord hit him with a curse that made all the bones in his right hand, his wand hand, break at once. The man fell to his knees, crying out in pain, his hand mangled and twisted. Voldemort yanked him to his feet by his robe and told him that next time he screwed up, it would be every bone in his body. Snape shuddered and felt his stomach knot up even tighter as the dark lord walked past him and back to the shadows.
"My loyal servants... I have a task for you to carry out. Many years ago, when I first began my reign of power, I sent some men on a quest to find a particular artifact. A magical stone, its name lost to the ages. This artifact is ancient, and possesses powerful ancient magic, the like of which is no longer fully understood. With this kind of power, the ministry won't have a chance. Information gatherers have told me that it is not in this country, but there may be somebody in Britain who has information regarding its whereabouts. Keep your ears open for any discussions regarding strange jewels or stone artifacts and keep your ears open around foreigners. The exact description of this object is unknown, but it is ancient and powerful and made of gemstone. He who brings this artifact to me will be rewarded most generously".
Voldemort rose from his chair and stepped out of the shadows. He pointed to three wizards standing at the other end of the line. "You, you, and you there, stay here, we need to discuss the task I first informed you of last month. The rest of you are dismissed".
A handful of wizards immediately apparated out of the chamber, a few others followed suit after bowing and expressing loyalty and praise to the Dark Lord. Snape was the only remaining one of the dismissed Death Eaters. Voldemort turned to him. "Has your ingratitude and lack of judgment impaired your hearing? You have been dismissed!"
"My lord", Snape bowed in a gesture of supplication, "I would be honored to serve you on this mission".
"YOU have not reclaimed the right to serve me on a mission of great importance!" Bellowed Voldemort. "YOUR loyalty has been brought to question." Voldemort pulled his wand out of his pocket and stepped in front of Snape, "How DARE you assume the right to beg to serve me, you worthless piece of filth!" The force of the blast hit him before he saw the flash of light. Snape was thrown off his feet and backwards across the room. His head hit the wall and he crumpled to the ground unconscious.
He regained consciousness much later, the sun had set, and the only light in the chamber was what little bit of moonlight able to penetrate through the cracks and crevices of the castle ruins. He tried to stand, but his head was spinning and he fell back onto the stone floor. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Lumos" he whispered, it hurt to speak, it hurt to breathe, he almost certainly had broken ribs. He saw the dried blood on his hand and reached up and felt the dried blood matting his hair. His lip was split open and he had been bleeding from the nose as well. He sat there for several minutes, knees drawn up to his chest, head resting on his knees thankful to be still alive and trying to collect his thoughts. He finally found the strength to pull himself to his feet, remove the hooded cloak and mask, and fold them into his pocket. Bracing himself against the wall, Snape reached into his pocket and grasped the silver matchbox portkey and apparated back to edge of the forest. He felt solid Earth beneath his feet, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. He tried to stand again and lost his balance and fell onto his hands and knees. He sat back on his heels, buried his face in his hands, and broke down in ragged sobs of despair. Every inhalation caused searing pain in his chest, but he was unable to stop crying. He cried for the pain, he cried for the fear, he cried for the shame. He cried for those whose lives he had destroyed as a servant of the Dark Lord, he cried for the life he gave up so foolishly so long ago. He cried for the life he would never be able to lead, for the man he would never be able to be.
Hagrid's dog, Fang, pricked up his ears and turned towards the dark forest, whimpering. Wary and fearing one of the dangerous creatures of the forest might be venturing too close to the school, Hagrid put on his coat, picked up his crossbow, and lit a lantern. He heard a sound coming from the forest, but it was too muffled and far away to tell what it was. Warily, he made his way into the tree line with his dog close at his heels. He couldn't hear the sound anymore, but something wasn't right. Fang barked and trotted off to the left and stood whimpering over a dark form on the ground. As Hagrid approached, he could tell that it was a person. He hurried with his lantern and gasped at what he saw. It was Snape, the potions professor, but his face was a bloody mess, and he was sitting on the ground looking very disoriented.
Hagrid hoisted the professor onto his feet and asked what happened. Snape looked up at him with vague confusion and whispered, "I hit my head, and I have to get to the hospital wing. Can you help me into the school?" Hagrid supported the professor and walked him across the grounds, into the school building, and down the hall to the hospital wing. He sat Snape down on one of the beds just as Madame Pomfrey and her assistant, Mademoiselle Lowry came out of their chambers.
"What happened?" exclaimed Pomfrey.
"I dunno," replied Hagrid. "I found 'im in the forest, all banged up and he said he'd hit 'is head".
Snape looked up and said, "My head, hit a wall... I think I broke a rib, hurts to breathe, hurts to talk. Why's the room spinning like that?"
Poppy helped him back into the bed, administered a painkiller potion and told her assistant to go fetch the headmaster. The girl took off down the hallway in a run and almost knocked the headmaster down as he came around a corner headed towards the hospital wing.
"Headmaster sir". Said the girl. "Come quickly, Professor Snape's been hurt, Hagrid found him in the forest". Dumbledore hurried down the hall, followed closely by the assistant nurse. He entered the hospital wing as Madame Pomfrey was blotting Snape's head with a wet compress.
"Sweet Merlin" muttered the headmaster as he saw the blood on the cloth and in the basin. "What happened to him Poppy?"
"I don't know for certain Albus, but he has a split lip, a concussion, three fractured ribs, and a broken nose".
Dumbledore placed his hand on Snape's forehead, it felt cool and clammy. The professor was unconscious and breathing soundly, but his breaths were ragged and labored. "See that he is made as comfortable as possible, I want him out of pain". "Treat the injuries, but give him a sleeping draught and let him sleep through the night. If anything happens, send for me immediately".
Dumbledore pulled Hagrid into the hallway and left the two witches to their ministrations. "What happened Hagrid?"
"I dunno sir," replied the gamekeeper. "Fang was acting kind strange and I heard something making noise in the edge of the forest and went to have a look. That's when I found our professor here, sittin' on the ground in a daze". "I thought maybe he was out for a walk in the woods and was attacked by something".
The old wizard sighed. "I need not tell you that this is to be kept strictly between us. Do you understand Hagrid?"
"Yessir. Good thing it's still summer holidays, or there'd be no keepin' a secret at all".
"No Hagrid, we are indeed fortunate in that classes are not yet in session. Let's hope that we start the fall term with fit and well potions master shall we"? Hagrid nodded and the two men went their separate ways to their separate quarters. Hagrid fell asleep with a chair barricading the doorway to his little cabin just in case whatever attacked the professor came out of the forest. The headmaster sat up the entire night contemplating whether it was an ethical choice to allow Severus Snape to continue risking his sanity and life to gather information against his former master, and realistically how long could he possibly keep up his current pace without totally breaking down.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not a bit of it. Not anything you recognize from the books at least.
Chapter 7: Sinking Deeper Into the Pit.
Morning came much too early for Professor Snape. Down in the dungeons of the Hogwarts castle, an enchanted clock began to chime. He sat up at the edge of his bed, fumbled for his wand, which he kept safely tucked under his pillow at night, muttered "Incendio" and flicked it towards the torches at the top of the walls. The room came into light. Torch and candlelight were the only sources of light in the professor's chambers, as no sunlight could penetrate into the dungeons and other subterranean areas of the school. He made his way to the bathroom, splashed his face with cold water, ran his fingers through his hair, and dressed in the robes that were laid out for him on the bedside chair by his house elf. The invisibility cloak was gone from the bedside table where he had folded and left it the night before; in its place was a scroll from headmaster Dumbledore. "Please join me in the staff dining hall when you awaken, so that you may give me your report on the activities that took place in town last night". Snape pocketed his wand, and set out to meet with the headmaster.
"Well Severus...when I received no report from you last night I assumed that no news is good news. Do you have anything of importance to report regarding the dance?"
"Nothing headmaster. Nothing at all. If there was a death eater attack planned for the festival, it was aborted".
The headmaster took a sip of his tea, and thought for a moment. He looked back up at the younger wizard and smiled. "Well, there may not have been a Death Eater raid. But our gamekeeper is nursing a serious hangover this morning, could you be so kind as to see that a vial of the appropriate morning after potion is sent over to Madame Pomfrey? It is not normally stocked in the school hospital wing's potion cabinets".
"Very well headmaster, after I throw something together to help the big lout deal with his night of overindulgence, I'll be working on the translation of the potion text that I found in the library archives. I trust I shall not be disturbed the rest of the day shall I?"
The older man simply nodded a yes and Snape rose from his chair, turned, and returned to his laboratory, ignoring Mr. Filch's greeting as the two men passed in the hall.
Snape settled at his desk and resumed work on the translation of the ancient text. It was a lucky find in the archives. A book of protective potion recipes derived from the basic deflecting drops. A witch or wizard going into battle could immunize themselves partially against curses and take more hits before succumbing. With a little tinkering, he could boost the effectiveness some and even allow for indirect hits with the major curses and even unforgivable curses to have a lesser impact on the victim. But nothing could disperse the full impact of a direct hit from one of the major or unforgivable curses. Cast at a victim by a witch or wizard accomplished in dark magic, they were every bit as destructive, even with protective potions.
Hours passed, the professor translated the text from Old English to the modern English painstakingly and slowly. Any mistake here could result in a curse amplifying potion or one that had simply no effect at all against curses. Snape didn't notice it at first, but the tingling of the dark mark on his arm gave way to burning, and the instant he felt the heat of the mark, a wave of coldness washed over him, and he felt a twisting in the pit of his stomach. He was being summoned.
He shut the text, put away his quill, and went into his private chambers. He opened a secret compartment in his armoire and removed a black hooded robe and mask. He pocketed them and hurried out of his chambers and up to the headmaster's office. He had to think for a moment to remember the current password to Dumbledore's office; it was "candy floss".
The door opened, and Snape stepped into the office, where the headmaster was sharing tea with the herbology instructor and keeper of the magical and decorative gardens, professor Sprout. The plump old witch looked up at Snape with a shocked look on her face. "Look at yourself Severus. You look a mess! You're so pale! You're pushing yourself way too hard, and when is the last time you've had a decent hot meal? Come sit and take tea with us, I was discussing the new crop of tiger mint plants with the headmaster, it's important that Filch keeps that cat of his away from it, it's potent stuff, tiger mint!"
"I'm sorry, I must decline the tea and conversation, may I please have a word in private with the headmaster, it is of the utmost importance" snapped the potions master.
Dumbledore looked at Snape with profound concern. The pale face, slight tremble in his right hand and look of haunted resignation in his eyes was all Dumbledore needed to see. Snape was being summoned, and every moment he wasted would only increase the burning of the mark, and result in a greater chance of a harsh reception by Voldemort.
The headmaster stood up, placed his hand on Sprout's shoulder, and told her that he would be but a moment, and led Snape out the door of his office and into the small alcove above the stairway. "Are you up to it?"
"I don't have a choice Albus, I have to go. Maybe I can find out why the raid didn't happen at the festival."
"Watch yourself Severus, you are still under suspicion of being a traitor."
Snape looked down at the ground, and then back up at the headmaster. Would this be the last time he ever saw his employer and friend? Dumbledore gently placed a hand on the potion master's shoulder. "Go with strength to endure what must be endured, and return home to us safely once again".
Snape turned and descended the staircase, and made his way through the school and across the grounds into the forest. When he got farther back past the edge of the tree line, past the magical barriers that protect the school, he removed the thin hooded robe from his pocket, unfolded it and pulled it on, placed the mask on his face, and apparated to meet his destiny.
His feet hit the ground, and he found himself in the dungeon of a castle ruin. Some diffuse afternoon sunlight filtered down through cracks in the masonry and illuminated the room. He was in a small chamber, approximately ten by twelve feet. There were a few other masked and robed figures already there, and soon another apparated into the room. In the shadows, on an ornate chair, sat Lord Voldemort, the dark one, the most dangerous and destructive wizard of the time.
He rose and walked over to inspect his troops. Still weak, but very much alive, he struck fear in all who looked upon his scarred and ashen face, even those who pledged their lives and loyalty to him as his followers. One by one, the Death Eaters bowed their heads as their master passed them by. Being in his presence was being in the presence of a powerful energy well. Emotion, warmth, the very life-force within a person seemed to be slowly drained away whenever he was nearby, almost like being in the presence of a dementor.
He stopped at one of the wizards, a smallish man. Snape had an idea who it was, a fairly young man who was once with the ministry but who had turned his allegiance to the dark side out of fear rather than loyalty to the cause. He wouldn't last long in this life thought Snape. The man started to whimper and make apologies for his part in a raid gone wrong where two other death eaters were captured by the ministry and facing charges in Azkaban prison. The man fell to his knees and started to grovel at Voldemort's feet. One of the Death Eaters standing next to him kicked him violently and sharply in the ribcage and told him to stand and meet his master with honor, like a man. The man stood on shaking legs, and with a look of utter contempt and disgust, the dark lord hit him with a curse that made all the bones in his right hand, his wand hand, break at once. The man fell to his knees, crying out in pain, his hand mangled and twisted. Voldemort yanked him to his feet by his robe and told him that next time he screwed up, it would be every bone in his body. Snape shuddered and felt his stomach knot up even tighter as the dark lord walked past him and back to the shadows.
"My loyal servants... I have a task for you to carry out. Many years ago, when I first began my reign of power, I sent some men on a quest to find a particular artifact. A magical stone, its name lost to the ages. This artifact is ancient, and possesses powerful ancient magic, the like of which is no longer fully understood. With this kind of power, the ministry won't have a chance. Information gatherers have told me that it is not in this country, but there may be somebody in Britain who has information regarding its whereabouts. Keep your ears open for any discussions regarding strange jewels or stone artifacts and keep your ears open around foreigners. The exact description of this object is unknown, but it is ancient and powerful and made of gemstone. He who brings this artifact to me will be rewarded most generously".
Voldemort rose from his chair and stepped out of the shadows. He pointed to three wizards standing at the other end of the line. "You, you, and you there, stay here, we need to discuss the task I first informed you of last month. The rest of you are dismissed".
A handful of wizards immediately apparated out of the chamber, a few others followed suit after bowing and expressing loyalty and praise to the Dark Lord. Snape was the only remaining one of the dismissed Death Eaters. Voldemort turned to him. "Has your ingratitude and lack of judgment impaired your hearing? You have been dismissed!"
"My lord", Snape bowed in a gesture of supplication, "I would be honored to serve you on this mission".
"YOU have not reclaimed the right to serve me on a mission of great importance!" Bellowed Voldemort. "YOUR loyalty has been brought to question." Voldemort pulled his wand out of his pocket and stepped in front of Snape, "How DARE you assume the right to beg to serve me, you worthless piece of filth!" The force of the blast hit him before he saw the flash of light. Snape was thrown off his feet and backwards across the room. His head hit the wall and he crumpled to the ground unconscious.
He regained consciousness much later, the sun had set, and the only light in the chamber was what little bit of moonlight able to penetrate through the cracks and crevices of the castle ruins. He tried to stand, but his head was spinning and he fell back onto the stone floor. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. "Lumos" he whispered, it hurt to speak, it hurt to breathe, he almost certainly had broken ribs. He saw the dried blood on his hand and reached up and felt the dried blood matting his hair. His lip was split open and he had been bleeding from the nose as well. He sat there for several minutes, knees drawn up to his chest, head resting on his knees thankful to be still alive and trying to collect his thoughts. He finally found the strength to pull himself to his feet, remove the hooded cloak and mask, and fold them into his pocket. Bracing himself against the wall, Snape reached into his pocket and grasped the silver matchbox portkey and apparated back to edge of the forest. He felt solid Earth beneath his feet, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. He tried to stand again and lost his balance and fell onto his hands and knees. He sat back on his heels, buried his face in his hands, and broke down in ragged sobs of despair. Every inhalation caused searing pain in his chest, but he was unable to stop crying. He cried for the pain, he cried for the fear, he cried for the shame. He cried for those whose lives he had destroyed as a servant of the Dark Lord, he cried for the life he gave up so foolishly so long ago. He cried for the life he would never be able to lead, for the man he would never be able to be.
Hagrid's dog, Fang, pricked up his ears and turned towards the dark forest, whimpering. Wary and fearing one of the dangerous creatures of the forest might be venturing too close to the school, Hagrid put on his coat, picked up his crossbow, and lit a lantern. He heard a sound coming from the forest, but it was too muffled and far away to tell what it was. Warily, he made his way into the tree line with his dog close at his heels. He couldn't hear the sound anymore, but something wasn't right. Fang barked and trotted off to the left and stood whimpering over a dark form on the ground. As Hagrid approached, he could tell that it was a person. He hurried with his lantern and gasped at what he saw. It was Snape, the potions professor, but his face was a bloody mess, and he was sitting on the ground looking very disoriented.
Hagrid hoisted the professor onto his feet and asked what happened. Snape looked up at him with vague confusion and whispered, "I hit my head, and I have to get to the hospital wing. Can you help me into the school?" Hagrid supported the professor and walked him across the grounds, into the school building, and down the hall to the hospital wing. He sat Snape down on one of the beds just as Madame Pomfrey and her assistant, Mademoiselle Lowry came out of their chambers.
"What happened?" exclaimed Pomfrey.
"I dunno," replied Hagrid. "I found 'im in the forest, all banged up and he said he'd hit 'is head".
Snape looked up and said, "My head, hit a wall... I think I broke a rib, hurts to breathe, hurts to talk. Why's the room spinning like that?"
Poppy helped him back into the bed, administered a painkiller potion and told her assistant to go fetch the headmaster. The girl took off down the hallway in a run and almost knocked the headmaster down as he came around a corner headed towards the hospital wing.
"Headmaster sir". Said the girl. "Come quickly, Professor Snape's been hurt, Hagrid found him in the forest". Dumbledore hurried down the hall, followed closely by the assistant nurse. He entered the hospital wing as Madame Pomfrey was blotting Snape's head with a wet compress.
"Sweet Merlin" muttered the headmaster as he saw the blood on the cloth and in the basin. "What happened to him Poppy?"
"I don't know for certain Albus, but he has a split lip, a concussion, three fractured ribs, and a broken nose".
Dumbledore placed his hand on Snape's forehead, it felt cool and clammy. The professor was unconscious and breathing soundly, but his breaths were ragged and labored. "See that he is made as comfortable as possible, I want him out of pain". "Treat the injuries, but give him a sleeping draught and let him sleep through the night. If anything happens, send for me immediately".
Dumbledore pulled Hagrid into the hallway and left the two witches to their ministrations. "What happened Hagrid?"
"I dunno sir," replied the gamekeeper. "Fang was acting kind strange and I heard something making noise in the edge of the forest and went to have a look. That's when I found our professor here, sittin' on the ground in a daze". "I thought maybe he was out for a walk in the woods and was attacked by something".
The old wizard sighed. "I need not tell you that this is to be kept strictly between us. Do you understand Hagrid?"
"Yessir. Good thing it's still summer holidays, or there'd be no keepin' a secret at all".
"No Hagrid, we are indeed fortunate in that classes are not yet in session. Let's hope that we start the fall term with fit and well potions master shall we"? Hagrid nodded and the two men went their separate ways to their separate quarters. Hagrid fell asleep with a chair barricading the doorway to his little cabin just in case whatever attacked the professor came out of the forest. The headmaster sat up the entire night contemplating whether it was an ethical choice to allow Severus Snape to continue risking his sanity and life to gather information against his former master, and realistically how long could he possibly keep up his current pace without totally breaking down.