In the corner of one of the washed-out toilets on the second floor there was a figure sitting near the window, cowering against one of the basins, crying. The picture was simple in itself. So clear to Severus Snape, so well known, that he needed a full minute's time before realising that the person sitting here was none he would ever have expected in such a situation.
He had come to this toilet in search for a mirror and to fight against his upcoming anger against the unjust actions of the Hogwarts librarian. After all, what was the point of making such a fuss about a simple fight? And he had had reasons, too.
Severus had chosen the girls' toilet (and an out-of-order one) because he was afraid to be seen in his current state. No one ever came here, meaning no one would see if he did decide to smash his fist against the wall, very simply, to make the anger disappear and to give way to tears he was not allowed to have - not without reason at least.
He had done so several time. This toilet was his domicile. His private shelter, giving him some peace from the hustle and bustle of school life - and the privacy he so needed sometimes.
And now all that was disturbed by the last person he wanted to see, who had invaded his very shelter.
But Severus was not angry. He was so startled to see Sirius Black burying his face in both arms like a four-year-old, shaken by sobs, that his first instinctive reaction was to laugh. Then again, he did know from various experiences, the last thing you wanted against you in a deserted corridor like this one was a Black with a grudge.
Severus decided to retreat.
The moment he moved, however, Black looked up, his face harassed (though still tear-shed) and slightly angry.
'You!' he snarled.
Severus stopped dead on the doorstep and turned.
For a short moment, both boys just looked at each other, pensively, but none the less hateful and suspicious. Then, both having the same though, they spoke in unison.
'What're you doing here?'
'Thinking,' said Black icily, making it sound as though Severus had never heard of such a thing.
'Washing my hands,' lied Severus quickly, stepping forward to one of the basins only to find out that it was out of order. Black turned away.
'You're a bad liar,' he said tiredly.
Severus thought that he had a point.
'You keep getting into trouble,' continued Black after a short while. 'Why?'
Severus looked up, frowning. 'What?'
'I want to know why you keep getting into trouble instead of keeping your head low and trying to avoid the people who hate you,' said Black, more slowly, as if speaking to a slightly retarded person.
'Dunno,' said Severus evasively. 'Can't avoid everyone, can I?'
'Fair point,' mumbled Black, shifting in his position on the floor. 'But apart from that? Why d'you have to choose the wrong moment for everything you do? Tell me.'
'I don't,' said Severus angrily. 'Stop treating me as if I was an idiot.'
'But you are an idiot,' said Black silkily. 'Come one! No one likes you. No one takes you seriously. You always do everything wrong, and you can't do a simple transfiguration spell without blowing up everything in reach. You're a failure, Snape. Get used to it.'
'I'll show you just how many spells I can do correctly!' snarled Severus, finding the larger boy just a bit too arrogant for the position he had found him in. 'What're you blubbering about, anyway?'
Black's face closed.
'Sod off, Snape,' he snarled. 'What do you know? What would you understand?'
'More than you think!' snapped Severus, leaning against the broken basin. 'But that's what you don't understand!'
There was a short silence.
'You're right,' said Black eventually, staring at the cubicle in front of him. 'You know more about curling up and crying in a corner than anyone I've ever seen, whiny little idiot.' And he grinned, full of mischief again as it seemed.
Severus exploded.
(When remembering the scene later he was not too sure whether he could not have restrained himself, had he wanted to, but fact was that Black looked so much smaller in sitting position and that the opportunity had been too tempting...)
He made a step forward, hit the Gryffindor on the head with all the strength he could muster - and turned to flee. With some surprise he realised, four corridors later, that he had got away unharmed.
'Fair enough,' he muttered. 'Serves him right, always being such an git. Perhaps he knows and that's why...'
But that was as far as he came, because in front of him, like death in person, appeared another person he hated above anyone else.
Professor Rodney Robertson had found that if you did not treat students like the foolish little brats they were you never actually got anywhere with them. He had also come to realise that Severus Snape was one of the hardest cases at Hogwarts, simply because of the position his father had within the wizarding army.
But he also knew that he was going to take away some of the boy's arrogance, if not all, before the year had finished. Simply using Severus's most basic fears against him had been one of his finer moves, he found. Practically no effort at all, but all the effect in the world. Severus seemed positively terrified of eight o'clock offices and what might await him there. It did pay to know a bit about the Snape-line, Robertson told himself.
But the plan had failed. To his great surprise, Severus had been missing in his lesson on chicken pock cures, and since he was not on the ailment register, Robertson had assumed that he was skiving off.
'You're a fool, Severus,' he told the boy, having caught him in one of the back corridors on the second floor. 'No matter how hopeless your situation is, you keep getting yourself into even more trouble. Did you think I would not notice? Did you think you'd get off unpunished because I know you? I'll tell you something - you'll regret the fact that I know you. You'll regret various of your stupid, childish actions tonight, sonny.'
An evil glitter seemed to glide over the older man's face and Severus wondered, for a moment, if he was actually mad. Then, Robertson dragged him into the Potions Master's office within the Hogwarts dungeons, carefully locking the door behind him, both, magically and the normal way. Severus held his breath.
'It is not eight,' said Robertson gravely, 'but we'll get the matter behind us now.'
Severus gave him a cautious stare.
'What d'you want to do?'
'That is 'sir',' said Robertson softly. 'We may have known each other for a while, but for now I am your teacher and you will address me as sir or Professor at all times. Understood?'
'Yes, sir,' mumbled Severus quickly. He was not a fool.
In their childhood, that is - when Severus had been about seven, Rodney Robertson had spent a few weeks in the household of Snape. Luckily (due to the extensible upper floor) they had not been sharing a bedroom, but they had been sharing a lot of other things, Severus remembered. Among them enough time to last for the rest of both their lives.
'So,' said Robertson. 'You think you can get your will at all times with me, simply because your father used to and will be my superior again before the end of the year?'
'No, sir,' said Severus nervously. 'But I had to go. I was desperate.'
'You will realise that your behaviour down in the Hall was absolutely out of place,' said Robertson silkily, circing Severus, who had taken the seat in front of Robertson's desk, like a hungry tiger. 'I shall not be tolerating behaviour of that sort. Especially not from students who are as abysmal at brewing simple potions as you are.'
'I'm not!' said Severus, unable to restrain himself. 'You nearly made it explode!'
He found himself face to face with Robertson's reddening face, who was now only inches apart from his student's nose.
'Careful!' he hissed. 'With what you say. How dare you assume I did not know exactly what I was doing?'
'Didn't say that,' said Severus quickly, well aware that Robertson knew he had meant it nevertheless. 'Still, if I may point out...'
'Sir!' snarled Robertson.
'If I may point out, sir,' repeated Severus angrily, 'that if you add asphodel root to a centaur intestine essence and heat it like that it'll blow up for sure. That is elementary knowledge.'
Robertson did not react for a while. He remained standing and glared down at Severus in what seemed a rather undecided way. Suddenly, before Severus had time to react, he brought back his hand and gave the boy a ringing slap on the cheek.
Severus jumped and retreated.
'I shall tell you something,' said Robertson, as softly as before. 'You are a student. I am your teacher. I shall be telling you about the function of ingredients, not vice versa. And you will get rid of that foolish arrogance of believing yourself entitled to lecture, or give orders, or call me names. You will stop doing all these things tonight - I shall see to that.'
The headmaster's office was silent for a little while.
'We shall need to decide,' said Albus quietly. 'Otherwise it could be too late anyway.'
'Are you sure there is no other way?'
'Her body cannot take this state much longer,' said the headmaster sadly, shaking his head. 'And she will dissolve for certain if we have not made our decision by next week. Dr. McGonagall holds the view that if we find the person responsible for this it would be feasible to trace back the ingredients they used and to create the bond that has saved so many people's lives before. All we need is a bit of their blood... and the recipe, of course.'
Both visitors frowned. One of them cleared her throat. She was a tall, slender woman in her seventies, who was wearing her black hair in a stern bun at the back of her head and who was now watching the headmaster through a pair of small, round spectacles.
'Then why don't you find him?'
'It is not as easy as that, Vesta,' said Albus, as quietly as before. 'The laboratory has not given us any clues as to who might be the culprit, and Professor Binn's case is a mystery to all because the source of his death seems to have vanished from the library.'
'You cannot steal books from the Hogwarts library!' said the witch quickly.
'Och, aye,' came a dark voice from her side. 'Ah heiv bin reivin' tha' leebrary plenty o' times in oor days.'
Albus raised his eyebrows at the younger wizard, whose lips were curling to a small grin.
'You are not taking this situation seriously!' snarled his wife, throwing a reprimanding look at her pipe-chewing husband. 'Incidentally, you cannae claim to be pinching when you were always giving them back afterwards.'
'Ach, but ah intended tae keep 'em,' said her husband. 'Them books can tell, ye ken.'
'In any case,' said Albus with some emphasis, 'we shall of course keep looking for ways, but if the culprit cannot be found, we shall have to decide whether to try and use that spell.'
'There is not much chance that she will survive it, though, is there?' said Vesta icily.
'No,' said Albus unhappily. 'As Dr. McGonagall said -...'
Suddenly, the door of the office burst open and a boy (one of the students, almost certainly) stumbled in, apparently surprised that it had opened on its own accord rather than withstanding his run.
'Mr. Black,' said Vesta McGillivray disapprovingly. 'How dare you storm the headmaster's office?'
'Must... talk... headmaster...' said Sirius, fully out of breath. 'It's... I mean... I think I know who...' He side-glanced at Vesta and stopped. Blinked, gave her a slightly puzzled look, then grinned. 'You are not related to Professor McGonagall by any chance, are you?' he said, continuing to investigate her.
'I am her mother,' she snapped. 'And you are Mercurius's son, are you?'
'Perseus's,' said her husband knowledgeably. 'The aulder o' twae.'
'Sirius Black,' said Albus now, feeling that there were more important matters than family business to discuss at the moment, 'is there a specific reason why you are interrupting this meeting?'
'Sir,' said Sirius nervously, 'I think I know who killed Professor McGonagall -' there was a sharp intake of breath from all three grown-ups, '- and I think I know why he's done it, too.'
There was a fraction of a second in which no one moved. Then, against everyone's expectations, Hamish McGillivray rose from his chair, grabbed the boy's shoulder and took his pipe out of his mouth.
'Wha?' he said.
Sirius seemed nervous. He looked up at the headmaster, hesitated for a second, and then shook off the older wizard's hand.
'Can I talk to you in private?' he said timidly. 'I'll try and tell you everything I... I can,' his face assumed a strange expression, 'but the matter is very complicated and I'll need some time.'
Albus nodded. 'If that is what you prefer...' he looked at Hamish and Vesta, hoping that his expression would speak for him. 'Just a few moments,' he said quietly, 'to solve this seemingly... delicate matter.'
As expected, Vesta made to protest, but with a movement more swift than his usual ones, her husband took her arm and pulled her out of the room to go and settle down in the Great Hall, as Albus assumed. Her watched Hamish close the door behind them and eventually turned to Sirius, his expression full of earnest worry, bearing just a gleam of hope.
'Tell me,' he said, 'who you think tried to murder my deputy headmistress.'
'Snape,' said Sirius, looking for once not as though being appalled by the mere memory of this person. 'Severus Snape.'
