Pensive Moment
Things are not always what they seem.
Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer.
If I could read you like a book,
Or like a wizard's glass of old,
I might discover why you look so cold.
- Edmund Gosse, The Cast
Snape woke feeling awful. He was stiff from lying on the damp ground, and one hand was asleep; it had been underneath him, grasping a half-empty liquor bottle. His robe reeked of booze, his right arm was itchy, his head was pounding, his whole body ached -- and worst of all, he had no memory of how he had gotten in this state.
All the evidence said he had been off alone on a wild spree, but Snape was not fooled. I didn't do this to myself. Someone did it. Let's see who, and how... and what. Instead of creeping back to the school, while trying to avoid the embarrassment of being seen, he headed for the hospital wing and a sympathetic ear.
-o-
"Again, Poppy, I apologise for waking you up, but I couldn't let this pass. How bad is it?"
Madam Pomfrey tsk'ed and shook her head. "Oh, you'll live, Severus. Elevated blood alcohol level. Positive for the mild presence of amphetamines, and a flock of needle marks in the crook of your right arm."
"Not good."
"If you were a student, you'd be automatically on report."
"Obviously. Well, it's a setup. I don't use these substances."
"Ease your mind, Severus; I don't think you did this to yourself. There was far more liquor on your clothes than in your blood. The puncture marks are all fresh, and mostly random jabs, just to leave marks; apparently, it's to give the false impression that you inject yourself frequently. Very amateurish. Odd, though, there are also some signs of recent mild neuro-muscular damage -- and not from this stuff."
"Neuro-muscular?"
"Your system is ringing, echoing, from some event -- and not just from a bad case of nerves. Not to worry, nothing permanent."
"What would cause that?"
"Two possibilities, in my experience. Either you enjoy repeatedly sticking your finger in an Muggle electrical socket, or more likely, you've just suffered a repeated attack by Cruciatus."
"I see. Interesting, since I don't remember either happening. Poppy, do you have a pensieve?"
"Locked up, yes. Never use it myself."
"Keep it handy. We might want to use it, when I find out what's just happened. Do me a favour; get your wand out and discontinue any memory spell placed on me this evening."
Yes, there was one, as it turned out. He been obliviated. Since it had been modified with a short time period, Pomfrey was able to lift it. It was quite a revelation.
-o-
The boy was incredulous. "You must be joking. I was asleep!"
"I wouldn't have suspected you, either," answered Snape. "But Pomfrey undid the charm you imparted -- and there you were, flinging an Unforgivable Curse at me, over and over. I remembered it all so clearly."
"That doesn't make any sense, Professor, and I wouldn't do that!"
"I'd agree with you, if I hadn't seen you do it -- all of it, Mr. Malfoy!"
-o-
"Ha!" chortled Ron. "Couldn't happen to two nicer people."
Hermione gave him a stern look. "Ron, this is serious. Malfoy can be thrown in Azkaban for this!"
"So?"
"So I don't think he did it."
"Why not?"
"Isn't it more like 'why,' Ron? Snape is jumping to a conclusion again."
"Aren't you, too? We don't know what Snape's evidence is."
"Oh, come on. Draco Malfoy, attacking his favourite professor? He has no reason to curse Snape. Something's not right."
"So what are you going to do -- help Malfoy?"
"I haven't decided. I feel like I should do something. If someone else made this happen, he could just as easily have framed you or me."
"It figures. Okay, who should I hug first? Snape, or Malfoy?"
"Neither. First, I should visit an old friend of mine."
-o-
"Good morning, Madam Pomfrey."
"Well, Miss Granger! Do you have another unusual malady for me?"
"None at all, thanks. I'm completely healthy this trip."
"Oh, what a shame. After all my preparations."
"What preparations?"
"I've put you on my frequent-patient plan. I've saved your favourite bed for your permanent use, so any time you like, you can just walk through the doorway with your latest disfigurement and hop in... the next time you get petrified, or turn into a cat, or grow huge teeth, whatever."
Hermione grinnned. "Thanks for that! I suppose you also have a Potter bed, and a Weasley bed or two?"
"Right alongside! What brings you here?"
"A question... but it's about another person's medical records, so I don't know if you can help me."
"What is it, dearie?"
"This business with Professor Snape -- is it possible that it's all a mistake?"
"I'd find that hard to accept. I saw the incident. So has Dumbledore, and several others. That information's not a secret; it just hasn't come down to you through the rumour chain yet."
"How could you see it?"
"The professor's vivid memory of the night's events are now in a pensieve. He put it there and had me look at it, to reassure him he hadn't gone mad. I looked through his eyes; it wasn't a pretty sight."
And?"
"I saw Draco Malfoy do it."
-o-
"What do you want, mudblood?"
"To be away from you, as soon as possible. But if you would, give me a minute without the usual cheap insults."
"I can't think why."
"Not even to ask if you really attacked Snape? 'Cos I don't think you did it."
Draco was actually speechless for a moment. "Why not?"
"It's not your style. I don't know how they did it, but someone has gone to a lot of bother to frame you. Before you ask, it wasn't us."
"Fat lot of good it'd do, having you on my side."
"It can't hurt. Don't worry, I'll stop talking to you again as soon as this is all over. Meanwhile, if we're going to try to keep you off the Isle of Azkaban, I'd hope you'd listen... and cooperate with us."
"How am I going to help anything? I didn't do it, but they've got their 'evidence' and Professor Snape's standing by it."
"You won't know if you don't try. We need to look for any clues in this puzzle. They'll probably hold a Wizengamot soon, where you're allowed to put up a defence. Right now, ask for a copy of the evidence -- and let me see it."
"Yeah, you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you, watching Professor Snape get attacked? Sick mudblood."
"Malfoy, I'll give you five more seconds, then you can ruddy well go to... Azkaban."
What could he do, refuse? "I'll get it."
-o-
A Gryffindor knocking on the door of the Slytherin common room was not a welcome event for the other Slytherins, but Draco knew he had to do this. No one in his house was especially noted for their learning, cleverness or deductive powers. He let her in.
Hermione felt like she was walking into a snake pit. Perhaps it's a lost cause, she thought. Perhaps he really did it. But why would he?
"Here," said Malfoy, pointing her toward a chair by a low table. A pensieve awaited her. She sat, composed herself, and did as Harry had told her about these devices, slowly putting her face into the swirl...
She was Snape.
He was doing his rounds, walking down a school corridor at night. From the dark, a voice said, "Somnus!" and he blacked out.
He was awakening on the floor of a small room. He seemed disoriented, looking about, as though he had no idea where he was. He went to rise -- but the same voice said, "Crucio," He fell back to the floor, in pain, his body wriggling out of control.
The wand-weilding Draco Malfoy stepped in front of him. "Now, for all the trouble you caused me," said the voice. "Crucio."
She watched it continue for the longest time, feeling each curse's effect as though it passed through her own body. She looked desperately for clues -- the surroundings, the voice, the Malfoy undoubtedly standing in front of Snape, hurling an Unforgivable Curse over and over with glee.
Despite the outward appearance, she saw what she had come for. She saw all she needed to exonerate Malfoy -- but at what a price!
The torture ended in another Somnus, and the Obliviate. Then, Snape was awakening on the lawn... and the memory ended. Hermione raised her head. In the real world, only a few minutes had passed, but she knew the events in the dream had lasted longer, for she had tried counting the whole time. By her estimate, it had lasted over an hour.
"Well?" posed Malfoy.
"I saw... things. I have to have time to put my thoughts together, tho -- perhaps talk with the others. You'll be happy to know I'm more convinced than ever that you're innocent."
"Still your stupid hunch, or can you prove it?"
"Proof, I think. Let me have time."
"Fine. Then off with you. But don't wait until the dementors have me."
"As much as I might find that a joy, I won't be long."
She left the dungeon, pondering her situation. She had detected several items. Yes, the little room looked familiar. Then, there was an almost imperceptible local accent to the voice... and, towards the end of the hour, Malfoy's hair had started changing colour and texture, and his figure slowly grew taller. Harry and Ron had experienced similar results, once.
It wasn't Malfoy. It was a Polyjuice copy. And then there was the little room, crowded with furniture and many hanging things... andthe voice's accent of sorts... and the hair... and growing taller...
Oh, Lord. It couldn't be.
Hagrid?
-o-
"Y'know me, Perfesser. I wouldn't."
Dumbledore tried to be reassuring. "Now, Hagrid, you must understand that potion ingredients and formulae are generally available to all magicians..."
"But Malfoy's supposed t' be throwin' these curses with a wand, ain't he?"
"...and I would not like to see you placed under Veritaserum to answer whether you had used a wand any time in the last fifty years."
Hagrid remained silent, shifting about in his seat like a little boy who has spilt the watering can. Hermione, sitting alongside, patted his arm in reassurance.
Dumbledore continued. "I did not know Mr. Malfoy was going to allow other students to view this nightmare, but Miss Granger allows that she talked him into it, so we'll let that pass. She made quite interesting observations, and I have since been to my own pensieve to observe what I saw again. She is seemingly correct... except, like Professor Snape, she may have jumped to a conclusion."
"Professor," she interjected, "if I may, I didn't say Hagrid did it. The memory ends when the transformation is just beginning. Things are not always what they seem."
"And now you are completely correct. I didn't ask Hagrid here to accuse or convict him, but rather to ask his help. I want someone to corroborate what we think we saw, and no one is more qualified than Hagrid himself. If you're willing, that is, Hagrid; it's rather intense."
"If it'll keep me out of Azkaban, or even the likes of young Malfoy, I'll do it."
"Very well. If you will lower yourself into this... gently, now..."
He was Snape. He was awakening on the floor of a small room. He seemed disoriented, looking about, as though he had no idea where he was.
After only a few seconds, Hagrid suddenly pulled his face out of the pensieve. "I see what you mean. But it ain't so."
"Did you see the whole memory, so quickly?"
"Didn't need to. I see why you thought o' me right off. Oh, it sorta looks like m' home, it does. But it ain't. Sure, lots o' pots an' pans and baskets an' things hangin' -- but do you see gate chains? Or m' scythe? Or snowshoes, or hikin' pole, or pitchforks, or all the other trappin's? None of it. It's not m' home. Look again fer yerself and compare it, item fer item. If you take that away, Hermione, what have you got?"
She grinned. "An odd accent, and the very beginnings of a shape change. Nothing more."
Dumbledore nodded. "So, Snape-turned-Malfoy-turned-Hagrid has turned once more. Curiouser and curiouser."
-o-
The Wizengamot heard the charges, and the numerous testimonies of the pensieve witnesses. The judges found no reason to keep Draco under suspicion, and exonerated him. With no sufficient reason to name anyone else, the case had to be abandoned.
After attending the hearing, Hermione returned to the school late, having spent the remainder of the day seeing her parents for dinner, then returning by Knight Bus. (Never again will I eat a full meal before riding that stupid bus, she told herself.)
When she arrived, the common room was already being cleaned by the house-elves, but Harry and Ron were sitting up by the fireplace, waiting for her.
Ron was a bit disappointed that Malfoy wasn't getting transported to Devil's Island, or Tasmania or somewhere, anywhere, just on general principle, but could content himself with the thought that someone had zapped Snape for once.
The outcome itself did not interest Hermione as much as the mysteries of the case.
"It was an amateur job. The curses were mild -- a Crucio, yes, but whoever was doing it wasn't really good at it. Now, they would have needed a lot of things. For one, the formula from the library; for another, potion ingredients from Snape's room. Then, too, there was the accent. Basically, someone was trying to sound like Malfoy, but wasn't getting it perfectly. Disregard that. And I wouldn't bet that the figure was really dark-haired, or tall."
"Why not?" said Harry. "You said you saw..."
"...Malfoy seemingly getting taller, and his hair changing," she completed. "True. But it's only a few seconds, and that doesn't mean much. The person might have disguised himself, or herself, before drinking the polyjuice. They might have been wearing a wig, for example. They might have levitated to change their apparent height at the transformation back to normal form. And, we can't assume they meant to implicate Hagrid, just because he's tall and dark-haired. If you ask me, this whole thing wasn't meant to send Malfoy, or anyone else, to Azkaban. It was designed to shake up Snape and Malfoy -- to undermine their snobbish omnipotence, and nothing more."
"So you're back where you started," said Ron. "It could have been anyone who has access to the library for the formula, Snape's room for the ingredients, the infirmary for the dope, and some liquor... well okay, they'd have to be good at following recipes. That lets me and Neville out, at least."
She nodded. "They'd also need the room where it took place. Even if it wasn't Hagrid's hut, it might have been here at the school. There is another room, crowded with tables, plus hanging pots and pans and baskets. Isn't that right... Dobby?"
The house-elf paused his table-polishing and looked up.
"Then," she continued, "there's the need for mixing pots, a cauldron and a place to leave a fire burning all day. That sounds remarkably like the Hogwarts kitchen, doesn't it, Dobby?"
He only smiled his odd smile.
"Of course, you would have needed the connivance of anyone who might see what's happening. I wonder if all the elves planned it together, or if you lot just agreed to ignore the few who actually carried it out. What an interesting plot, tho -- pitting the two most hated humans in Hogwarts against each other! I'm sure you're relieved that no one's going to Azkaban for your silly stunt. I should pass my suspicions to Dumbledore ... but it's been a long day, and with a few hour's sleep, I'll probably forget all about it by morning. Good night, gentlemen. You too, Ron."