Chapter 4:
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When they finally stood in the halls of Hogwarts again, they decided to first go back to Gryffindor Tower and retrieve the Marauder's Map. With a little bit of luck, they could head off Snape and relieve him of the hairpin before he even reached his quarters. That would most decidedly be easier than to try and burgle his rooms later.
It was the exact 'how' of the plan that was causing Harry serious worries.
Their path led them past the entrance hall, and for the first time in ages luck seemed to be on their side as they heard the entrance gates open with a squeak. Someone strode by with such brisk, angry steps that the sound of his boots echoed loudly off the walls.
As if on cue, the three turned around and hurried towards the noise, all the while making absolutely certain that they were safely hidden under the Invisibility Cloak.
As bad luck would have it, they didn't catch up with Snape until the dungeons. They were so busy just trying to keep up (without the Invisibility Cloak slipping) that they couldn't even begin to think about how to relieve him of the hairpin, which most probably was hidden in his clenched right hand. Instead, they got to listen to Snape cussing a blue streak the whole way down - about ill-begotten Gryffindors and old fools which he should have just let die of their heart attacks.
"But I will find out who it was," he swore quietly, so angry that his face was contorted into a furious grimace. "Not that it isn't bloody obvious anyway. Those cursed Gryffindors. But this time, I have proof. The hairpin will betray them. Oh yes, this time the Headmaster will have to take me seriously. This time, somebody will get expelled…"
Harry was slightly worried that Hermione would give them away – she had her fist pressed against her mouth as if she was trying to suppress a sob. He was not really worried about getting expelled; Dumbledore would surely not permit that – but that he would be in serious trouble was a given. And that he would like to avoid, if at all possible. Not to mention that it would give him a certain satisfaction to yet again get back at Snape and snatch near-certain victory from his hands.
Finally, they came to an almost six-foot tall painting of a crimson-red, hissing and writhing firedrake, and Harry for a fleeting moment had the thought that they could follow Snape into the room unnoticed. It would be risky, but definitely their best chance.
That did not work out though. Snape simply hissed a short 'rigor mortis', strode through the open doorway as the painting swung out of the way, and Harry barely had time to see Snape lift his wand and give a wave before the doorway banged shut after him with a resounding thud.
For at least five minutes, not a single one of them dared to say a single word, too afraid that Snape might open the door again.
"Do you think that these are Snape's private rooms?" Ron finally whispered, breaking the petrified silence.
"He has the pin, oh God. He's going to find out that it is mine, and then I'm going to be expelled," whimpered Hermione.
"Of course you won't, Hermione," Ron tried to calm her down. "Dumbledore would have something to say on that matter."
Harry nodded in affirmation. "Ron is right, but we shouldn't give up on stealing it from before he has a chance to do anything. We know the password now."
"We could get the map and try to search his quarters tomorrow."
"Only if it isn't already too late by then," Hermione sighed.
"We don't have much of a choice," Harry said. "To search the room while Snape is in there is out of the question. Come, let's go and sleep on it."
His two friends nodded unhappily, and together they turned around and were just about to go back down the passage when behind them, the door to Snape's quarters opened again. Snape, with his usual commanding stride, stepped out and marched down the corridor in the direction of the entrance hall. At least they assumed that it was Snape, because neither his face nor any other part of his skin showed from beneath the billowing cloak and the hood, which was pulled down far over his face. All that they could make out was a short flash of the bone-pale material of a Death Eater's mask, and something long and thin – a strangely-held magic wand? – which bunched out the robe in the back.
Harry and his friends stood stiff as boards, pressing their bodies against the wall to get out of Snape's way. He didn't even slow down as he passed them and disappeared around a bend in the passage.
Harry could hardly believe his luck.
But then he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and dragged towards the back. "Hurry up, before it closes all the way," he heard Ron urging him on.
He turned around and saw that the painting was in the process of swinging back in front of the hole in the wall in creeping-slow motion.
Together, they hurried towards it and managed to barely squeeze through before it closed all the way.
"Good thinking, Ron," Hermione said admiringly. "This way, even the painting didn't see us."
Ron blushed immediately, and was just trying to duck out from under the Invisibility Cloak when Harry held him back. "Wait. First we should make sure that we are really alone."
Ron nodded and arranged the cloak back around himself again.
Harry looked around the room in which they were standing. He wasn't sure what he had expected of Snape's private rooms, but this room was rather average. As in most sitting rooms at Hogwarts, a large fireplace graced the wall of the room. On the mantle above it there was a pot-bellied stone vase, probably full of Floo Powder.
Around a round, brightly polished three-legged wooden table in the middle of the large room stood an antique sofa and a single, matching chair. Both had armrests carved from ebony and claw-shaped, carved feet. In any case, the bright colours of the upholstery and the two small accent pillows at each end stood in stark contrast to Snape's character.
Against the left wall stood a bookshelf, with the spines of thick, old books lined up in a row next to each other, and on the opposite wall stood a massive wooden writing desk with two drawers; a single inkwell along with a lonely quill rested on top.
Next to it, a non-descript door led out of the room.
"I don't believe that there's anybody here," Ron said quietly. "It's totally silent."
Harry had to agree with him, but when dealing with Snape, it was better to be safe than sorry. One should never underestimate the man.
"Let's check in the other room first," he whispered, and moved, his friends in tow, towards the door.
Carefully, he opened it and peered inside.
It was Snape's bedroom. An emerald green, heavy velvet bedspread, matching the curtains, covered the huge canopy bed in the middle of the room. It, together with a massive wardrobe, filled almost the entire room, and only left space for a comparatively tiny nightstand with a sconce on top.
Yet another door led out of this room, and through a half-opened passage Harry could just make out part of a marble sink.
"You were right, Ron. There's no one here," said Harry.
With a relieved sigh, Ron scooted out from under the Invisibility Cloak. "That thing is slowly but surely getting too small for all of us," he said.
"Or we're getting too big," answered Harry with a grin. But Ron was right. It was by now anything but comfortable when all three of them had to hide under the cloak. Especially if they had to move under it.
Hermione slid out from under the cloak as well and with furrowed brow took a few steps into the room. Harry folded the cloak up into a compact bundle and tucked it under his arm before following Hermione.
"I would never have thought that Snape lives like this," Ron said with a quiet whistle through his teeth. "It looks almost human in here."
"What did you expect, Ron? A casket and black candles?" asked Harry.
"Something along that line, yes."
Hermione just shook her head and disappeared into the room that apparently was the bathroom. When she came out, the furrows on her brow were even deeper. "That is odd," she whispered to herself.
Harry was just going to ask her what she meant by that when Ron spoke up first. "Shouldn't we be looking for the hairpin and then get out of here? I mean, we don't have the map with us, so we have no way of telling when Snape will come back."
Hermione waved him off, even if her thoughts obviously were elsewhere at the same time. "He left the house as a Death Eater. Surely, he is going to a meeting with Voldemort to spy on him. I doubt he'll be back that quickly."
Harry was asking himself, which was more typical – Ron's slight grimace when Hermione actually dared to speak Voldemort's name, or Hermione's unshakable faith that Snape was on their side. "Still, we should look for the hairpin first. Hopefully Snape didn't take it with him," he said instead, and ignored Hermione's alarmed face. "I have an idea. Come on."
He first went back into the main room and waited for the others. Then he pulled out his wand and called out "Accio Hairpin!" For just a fraction of a second the thought occurred to him that he should have been more precise, but at the same time he figured that Snape would scarcely have other hairpins than Hermione's lying around.
And indeed, something rattled around in the top drawer of the desk before it slid open a crack with a creaking noise, and Hermione's hairpin came floating out and flew into Harry's outstretched hand.
"Hah – there we have it! Was easier than I thought." Triumphantly, he held the hairpin out to Hermione, who took it with a short thanks, stuffed it in her pocket, and looked around with a worried expression.
"What's up, Hermione? We have the pin. Why still the long face?"
"Aren't you noticing anything strange here?" she asked, and made a gesture indicating the whole room.
Harry and Ron exchanged an uncomprehending glance.
"Nope," Ron said.
"Okay, it doesn't look very much like Snape here, but otherwise…" Harry added.
Hermione shook her head again and walked over to Snape's desk. She first examined the half-open drawer, and then pulled open the second one and cast a look inside. Ron and Harry followed her. "Here, too," she murmured to herself. "That is weird."
"What's wrong?" asked Ron.
Hermione pointed to the opened drawer. "Look for yourself."
Harry and Ron looked into the indicated drawer. Inside, there was a closed bottle of ink and a small stack of parchments.
"What's so funny about writing implements?" asked Ron, expressing Harry's sentiments exactly.
"It isn't the writing implements in and of themselves," answered Hermione. Whatever it was that was unsettling her seemed to rob her of her composure far enough to temporarily forget her usual schoolmarmish tone of voice. "It's the fact that that is all that is here. Together with the letter opener in the other drawer. And take a look at the rest of the rooms. No open book, no pillow out of place. The bed and the nightstand look as if they've never been used. It's like a museum in here."
"Maybe Snape is just compulsively orderly?" Harry suggested.
"And what about the missing light source by the desk and on the table in the living room? Why are there no shoes lying around anywhere? There are books on the bookshelves, but no sign that they are being read at all. Why is there nothing personal in the bathroom, only the bare necessities? No bath towels, not even anything like a simple bar of soap?
"What, that is not exactly surprising," Ron interjected.
"What exactly are you trying to say, Hermione?" asked Harry.
"I don't know either, but it almost looks as if these rooms were nothing but a smokescreen."
"A smokescreen for what?"
"I don't know, Ron," Hermione said thoughtfully.
Before Harry or Ron could say anything, she went once again to the door that led into the bedroom.
"Where are you going, Hermione?" said Harry, but followed her hurriedly, together with Ron.
Hermione again stepped into the bedroom, walked over to the wardrobe, and without hesitation yanked open the two wing doors.
Harry cast a glance at the robes inside, neatly hung on hangers. He recognized most of the clothing (with only one or two exceptions) as school robes. On the shelves lay white undershirts, grey nightgowns and underwear. On the floor of the wardrobe stood two pairs of shoes, neatly lined up, directly in front of a few smallish, corked bottles, and a worn, folded up robe.
"That is the robe that he was wearing a while ago," Harry pointed out.
"What are those bottles?" asked Ron.
Hermione took out one of the opaque brown bottles and removed the cork. She peered inside, and then quickly sniffed it. "Cabbage smell," she said hoarsely.
Ron's eyes grew large, and Harry held his breath. They all knew what the cabbage smell indicated. "Polyjuice Potion," he choked out.
"That can't be," said Ron. "That makes no sense whatsoever."
"But it does," Hermione answered downcast. "Somebody is passing himself off as Professor Snape. Like Barty Crouch Jr. back then."
"But we saw him on the Marauder's Map when we slipped Malfoy the Quibbler. The map never lies," Ron disagreed.
"That isn't quite true," said Harry. "We saw Draco's name, but when Snape showed up we didn't look at the map any more. It must have already not been Snape then, but someone who pretended to be him. Judging by the room and the sparse clothing, this must have been going on for quite a while. Voldemort has placed a spy here again, and in exactly the same way as a year ago."
"But surely Dumbledore would notice something like that, especially if the fake Professor Snape only pretends to live here."
"He didn't notice anything about Quirrel, and overlooked Barty Crouch as well. Dumbledore would scarcely expect Voldemort to use the same trick twice, and the counterfeit Snape is a whole lot more subtle about taking the potion. It could be that even last year it wasn't the real Snape. Voldemort wants a spy at Hogwarts." Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to Harry. "The Order. Snape could tell them where the headquarters are."
"No he can't, not unless he is the Secret Keeper. But he could report on any plans that Dumbledore and the Order make," said Hermione.
"So then, where is the real Snape?" asked Ron.
"Captured by Voldemort," Harry said with determination. "He must have been revealed as a spy. Either they are keeping him a prisoner, or he was killed a long time ago."
"We have to do something," said Hermione.
"Yes," Ron agreed with her. "Dumbledore and the Order are in danger."
"Besides that, we have to try and rescue the real Professor Snape, if he is still alive," Hermione added.
Judging by Ron's face, he didn't consider this quite as urgent, and Harry could empathize with that feeling, at least in part, even if it did make him feel slightly guilty.
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My greatest thanks to Cecelle for the wonderful translation and to Lucidity for her great job in betaing. I so much appreciate that you two still take time for me, even though you are so busy yourselves. Bighugz
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