Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.
This story is dedicated to scatteredlogic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.
Chapter Thirty Five: Two Steps Forward; One Step Back
With a look of impatience on his pale, narrow face, Snape rose from the breakfast table and exited through the back of the hall. He'd only bothered to come to breakfast at all because the Headmaster had implied that he'd be there, and that they could go up to his office together after it was over, but the man hadn't shown up, so there was certainly no reason to stay. It's not as if he had any appetite at the moment. Idly, he wondered what would have kept the old man from his morning pastries. Perhaps he simply preferred to have them delivered to his rooms today. At any rate, it was time to find out. He'd said after breakfast, well, breakfast had ended as far as Snape was concerned.
He'd spent half the night sitting up and watching over Minerva, who hadn't slept any better than he had. Her early slumber had only lasted for a short while then she'd suddenly awoken with what appeared to be a cry of fear. With everything she was going through in that dismal place, it was no wonder that she was having nightmares. Once awakened, she'd paced her cell into the wee hours of the morning, reminding him of a lioness held in captivity, and making him painfully aware of her rather pronounced limp, before finally falling into a restless sleep that had lasted only until dawn. The limp worried him. What unknown injuries did she have hidden away beneath that horrid shroud they'd given her to wear? The question angered him all the more because there was no way to answer it.
Though Minerva had gotten some short periods of sleep, he himself had merely dozed fitfully. Every time he'd drift off for a moment, he'd suddenly jerked himself back to reality to check on her and be sure that nothing had changed. Having that window into her world had just aggravated his usual insomnia. Even though there was nothing he could've done to help her if some crisis had occurred, he nevertheless found it impossible to leave the viewer alone and seek a more comfortable rest in his bed; so instead, he'd stayed at his desk all night, and he was feeling the effects of that choice this morning in an increase in his intolerance for anything and everyone who crossed his path.
On his way up through the castle, he managed to find a multitude of reasons to take thirty points from Gryffindor, eighteen from Hufflepuff, and five from Ravenclaw. Not bad for this early in the morning. Indeed, if any of his own students had been found on the upper floors of the castle at this early hour, he just might have taken a point or two from Slytherin as well.
As he headed for the Headmaster's office, he came to the conclusion that it was just as well that they hadn't had breakfast together and gone straight back upstairs for their meeting. Because there was something that he needed to retrieve before he saw Dumbledore this morning. Time was growing short, and no matter what evidence Albus had viewed while at Amelia Bones' office, there was still something important that he needed to have him see.
When Snape was finally standing before Minerva's quarters, he irrationally found himself slightly reluctant to enter them in her absence. An absurd feeling that he really didn't have time to indulge. He was here to help her. That was all that should matter. It wasn't as if she'd have denied him, entrance, after all. Impatient with his foolishness, he withdrew his wand and removed the wards. She hadn't bothered to reinstall her own, so the last ones set to protect her quarters were those he'd set himself before he went down to his dungeon to obtain the sober-up potion for her during his last few minutes of ignorance concerning her situation.
Once he removed the wards, he entered her rooms and closed the door behind him. The room hadn't been touched since she'd left. Once she'd been arrested, it hadn't seemed to make any sense to send her things back to her family home, so her trunks still sat packed and ready for her return.
The reason he was here, however, rested inside the large roll top desk against the far wall, but as he began to cross the room, his attention drifted instead towards the open door of the bedroom and, without consciously intending to, his feet followed suit. Awkwardly, he stood in the doorway and looked across the room at the still rumpled bed. Neither of them had thought to make it after their last night together, and apparently with her gone, no house-elf had come to these rooms to do its usual job either.
Without warning, a vivid picture of her smiling face sprang to his mind, filling his field of vision and eliciting a slight gasp at its sudden appearance. For just a moment, she seemed so real…and once more within his grasp. He could hear her laughter, see the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, feel the warmth of her hands as they slid down the expanse of his naked body, evoking feelings that somehow no other woman had ever managed to bring forth. He'd thought that was due to her experience, her skill, and her enjoyment of their couplings, but now he feared it was more than that.
Closing his eyes, he let her image fall back beneath the surface of his mind. He missed her, and he wanted her back. Somehow, he had to find a way to protect her, to help her to escape from this fate, which seemed so determined to destroy her. He…cared about her. Something he swore he'd never do. Yet here he was once more, longing for her presence. Somehow, and he didn't have the vaguest idea how, she'd managed to slip into his heart and, once inside, had found it not as echoingly empty a chamber as he'd always tried to make it.
Angrily, he gave himself a firm shake. This foolish sentimentality was solving nothing. He could stand and wish for her until Filch became a wizard, and it wouldn't make it so. It was time to occupy his thoughts more productively, and see if there wasn't something that could be done to actually bring her home. Then he wouldn't have to wish for her presence beside him; he'd have her, and heaven help anyone who tried to take her away from him again.
With a new determination, Snape turned away from the memories of the bedroom and crossed the sitting room to her desk. Raising the top, he reached within and grasped the pensieve copy in his hands. Time to take this to Dumbledore and find out what was really going on. There was a mystery attached to the recording held within this crude container of stone, and he was going to solve it. Before it was too late.
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With a slight thump, Snape set the pensieve copy down on the desk in front of Dumbledore. The older man looked at the crude stone bowl with curiosity.
"What is this, Severus?"
"It's the recording that Standish made of the memories that were contained in that pensieve that he turned over to the authorities. I told you about it, but I would appreciate it if you'd watch it," Snape stated firmly.
Dumbledore raised his eyes to those of his Potions master. "Why do you think it's important for me to see it? I've now seen the original."
Snape's lips drew into a discontented line. "Yes, but I haven't, and I want to know how they compare. Every time I watch the contents of this thing play themselves out, something nags at me, something I should remember, but can't for some reason. Since I am not to be allowed to view the original record, this copy is all I have to go on. I need to know if this is indeed an exact duplicate."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "All right. How does one activate this device?"
Snape drew his wand and prodded the slight indentation on the side of the copy. "You can't enter these images. You can only watch from outside," he added before falling silent as the two of them watched the pictures of Minerva and Henry Grant come to life once more from so many years ago.
Once the recording had run its course, Dumbledore looked up into the slightly troubled face that watched him so avidly. "They appear to be identical to me, Severus," he stated flatly.
"In all ways? Is the original pensieve of memories also silent?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it is. Amelia seems to think that the magical mechanism has simply failed after so many years, but I find I cannot believe that explanation."
Snape began to pace back and forth in front of the desk. This confirmed his suspicions, but what did it really mean? "No. Pensieves don't simply lose their sound. They are constructed to hold a memory untouched and unaltered for as long as anyone would wish. Any pensieve should certainly last more than fifty years, unless someone deliberately altered it."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and considered this line of thought. "I wasn't aware that a pensieve could be altered. Memories can be added and removed easily, but what is seen and heard while they're in the pensieve, should remain inviolate. Otherwise, what would be the point?"
"I agree." Snape nodded. "However, the key word appears to be "should". Someone, and I don't think either of us need think too hard in order to know who that someone is since obviously the only logical choice is Ian Standish, has found a way to remove the sound from a pensieve. It shouldn't be impossible to do; it's simply something that most people have never had any reason to attempt before. I think that Standish did have a compelling reason to do it, and he's had fifty years to work on it. How it was done isn't really important, anyway. The important point is why was it done."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Having sound would remove any doubt about what went on between Minerva and Grant. If things were exactly as they seem to be, there wouldn't be any reason to remove the sound."
"Exactly. But the sound was removed. Therefore, it must mean that if we could hear what the two of them said to each other, it would change the way we think about what we're seeing."
"In the original pensieve, you aren't limited to seeing only through Minerva's eyes. When I was inside the memories, I was able to watch her face after Grant fell. She was shocked and horrified. It was almost as if she'd cast the killing curse by accident, as if she'd never intended for Grant to die at all."
Snape frowned. "To properly cast the killing curse, you have to intend to kill. Simply intending to harm won't work. That curse works through intent as much as anything else. If she didn't intend to kill Grant, then he wouldn't be dead…unless…" His voice trailed off thoughtfully and a frustrated grimace crossed his features once more. "There's something…" he whispered.
Abruptly, he turned and placed his hands on the desk, leaning back over the copy. "We need to play it again. I think I know."
Suddenly hopeful, Dumbledore activated the little viewer once more, and they watched it together again. Nothing seemed to have changed as far as he could see, but Snape seemed moderately excited when the recording concluded. "Did you see that? When she cast the Avada Kadavra? The flash…did you notice the color of the flash? The killing curse always produces a brilliant emerald green flash. The flash that accompanied Minerva's spell was a washed out bluish green. Not the same at all."
Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps the image has faded with age?"
Snape snorted derisively. "As the sound did? No. It's not the same spell."
"But no other spell causes quite that same reaction in a victim. Grant was simply dead. No writhing in pain…no lingering…no suffering. He simply fell over and died. That's Avada Kadavra. There is no other spell that kills quite like that. Besides, that's the spell that shows up in Minerva's wand." Pausing for a moment, Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully before continuing, "Though there was something odd with that as well. The killing curse didn't seem to be as sharp and clear as the other spells that the wand had cast when it was impelled to produce their record."
Snape straightened up abruptly and began to pace furiously once more. "There is another spell. Damn it! Why can't I remember? There's something else going on here, Albus. I know it. I almost have the answer. There's a spell. A dark spell. I know I've come across mention of it before or had it mentioned to me. It can change things somehow. I need to do some research, but this could be the answer we need." His eyes gleamed hopefully as he turned back to his Headmaster.
Dumbledore sighed. "I certainly hope you're right, but you'd better hurry, my boy. Minerva doesn't have much time left. The trial has been set for Monday. That only gives us four days to figure out how we're going to present our case, and at the moment, we don't have much of a case to present beyond bringing forth witnesses to testify to Minerva's excellent character."
Snape nodded grimly. "Then I'd better get started, shouldn't I? I'd make more progress, of course, if I didn't have to teach classes for the next two days."
Dumbledore smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to shirk your regular duties. My time is already taken up teaching Minerva's classes. Your classes will have to be taught…though perhaps you might hold off on any time-consuming detentions until after the trial is over."
Snape snorted. "I will endeavor to keep my calendar as uncluttered as possible for the moment, hopefully Filch has lots of free time, but if I'm to make a thorough job of searching through all my books for that illusive bit of information, then I'd better get to it."
Before Snape could turn and head for the door though, Dumbledore's face fell into more serious lines, and he held up a hand to hold him.
"Before you go, there's something else that you should know." He reached to one side of his desk and retrieved the roll of parchment that he'd received from Amelia Bones. This he handed to Snape.
"We'll only have one shot at this, Severus. We need to get it right the first time." His voice was heavy and bleak.
Snape took the parchment with a sense of foreboding. Quickly, he unrolled it and scanned its printed lines. His indignant eyes rose to Dumbledore's once more.
"They can't be serious." His face had gone even more pale than usual.
Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid they're very serious. This has already become law. The Wizengemot has decided that swift and severe punishment will be meted out to all those convicted of capital crimes within their courts. There won't be any delay. If Minerva is convicted, she'll immediately be…"
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"Executed?" exclaimed Minerva in horror. A cold numb feeling suddenly took hold of her mind and body. She knew her mouth hung slack with shock, but in her newly dazed state, she couldn't even summon up the energy to close it. This nightmare went from bad to worse to unimaginable. Though Ian had warned of this outcome, she'd privately thought it extremely unlikely. Once more, it seemed she'd underestimated him.
Andrew Pitt smirked at his former teacher. "You sound surprised. I guess Old Dumbledore didn't have a chance…or the guts…to tell you. Well, I suppose that might be unfair. He might not know himself. Perhaps they haven't told him yet that they've raised the stakes of the game on him. It doesn't really matter. It's a done deal. No long prison term for you, Professor. Either you go free…or you die."
"How?" she whispered.
Pitt leaned casually back against the cell door. "How they'll kill you, you mean? Well, they wrangled a bit over that one, apparently. You'd think they'd use Avada Kedavra, wouldn't you? After all, it's supposed to be painless…more humane that way. But I don't think being humane to prisoners is at the top of the list for the Aurors and Judges; not to mention the fact that using Avada is against the law, so they could hardly make it their official method of execution. No one seems inclined to change that law, either, and well they shouldn't, in my opinion."
He smirked to himself as he watched Minerva sink slowly down onto her cot as if her legs wouldn't hold her upright any longer. Apparently a few days in prison and the threat of execution was all that was necessary to take the starch out of the high and mighty Professor McGonagall. Perhaps she wasn't quite as tough as he'd always thought growing up…how disillusioning.
Pitt warmed to his topic. "So what's left? Beheadings were considered, of course. The Ministry has had headsmen on staff for years to attend to unwanted creatures. It was thought that they could easily dispatch humans as well, but there were some who thought that beheading wasn't painful enough for those who'd murdered innocent people."
Pitt laughed harshly. "Of course, there are all sorts of hideous poisons that could be used. Some of them are very painful, but apparently that was considered too inhumane…so they kept looking. I was hoping for burning, myself. Any warmth that we can find around here would be a good thing as far as I'm concerned, but witch burning smacks of Muggle persecutions. Left a bad taste in the Justices' mouths it seems, so that was thrown out, too."
Thank goodness for small favors, thought Minerva emphatically. As Pitt fell silent, she looked up to find him smiling pleasantly at her, and she had a sudden urge to simply scratch the smug expression right off his face. Her hand rose automatically to toy with her restraining collar. If she had even one minute without this impediment, he'd be singing a different tune...at a much higher pitch.
She straightened her spine and raised her chin defiantly. "So what does that leave, Mr. Pitt? I'm quite sure you know, so you might as well stop playing coy and simply tell me."
Ah, there was some fight left in the old girl, after all. Good. He did so hate to have his preconceptions proven false. His grin broadened. "Well, let's just say that, in the very innermost courtyard of this rock there stands a gallows that hasn't been used in a very long time. I guess I'm going to have to get me some more rope, because if you end up coming back here after your trial, you'll be going straight there. No chance of appeal. You'll only get one shot at acquittal, Professor, let's hope that your defender is as all knowing as he always tries to let on."
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Snape dropped the piece of parchment onto Dumbledore's desk and watched as it snapped shut and rolled to the side.
"Who's responsible for this, Albus?" he asked in a low intense voice.
"It's a decree of the full Wizengemot, Severus. No one person is responsible."
"Could Standish have influenced its passage? The timing seems highly suspicious to me." Snape glared at his companion.
"I doubt it, though if any of them asked his opinion, I'm sure we both know what he'd have said," Dumbledore asserted grimly.
"Of course. If she's dead, he'd have another opportunity to get his hands on her money as the closest legal thing to an heir that she has. That man will have to be dealt with, you know." An anticipatory note slithered through Snape's tone.
Dumbledore sighed. "Right now, we need to concentrate on Minerva. Freeing her is far more important than pursuing any sort of vengeance against Standish. Hopefully, other factors will take care of him in time."
"Don't worry. Minerva is my number one priority, Albus, I assure you, and you're right, proving her innocent would be the same as killing two birds with one stone. If she's freed, then Standish loses all hope of obtaining her estate, and not living up to your promises is never looked on with favor by the Dark Lord." A very unpleasant smile toyed with the corners of Snape's lips. "If you'll excuse me, I should begin my search before my first class. As you pointed out, time is against us."
Without further discussion, Snape left Dumbledore's office as the Headmaster let his troubled eyes focus on the crude stone copy and wondered.
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Next Chapter: Snape and Pince attempt a little research.
