Chapter Nine
Author's Notes: Thank you Silverthreads, Oya, sayanwizardgurl, duj (love the snarkiness), and Lindsay (feel better!). I am so grateful that you guys have come back to read this pathetically drawn-out work in progress and are still giving me votes of confidence. I decided that chapter eight was too short (number one) and that I had nowhere else to fit in what I wanted to fit in (number two) so I revised the last bit of it and added about a page. And now, chapter nine, which is super-long, and in which the secondary character finally makes his first appearance:
Severus Snape brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across his cheek and resumed stirring his steaming cauldron. Clockwise one... two... three... Counter-clockwise one... two... three... Add a pinch of Salvia officianalis, stir again clockwise one... two... three...
He could hear rustling and footsteps out in the stone corridor. Soon (much too soon for his liking) the noises stopped outside his office, and an insistent knocking sounded. Sighing a sigh of the man resigned to his inevitable fate, Snape cast a Suspendus charm on his potion-in-progress, and drawing his robes tighter across his chest, strode toward the door. On the other side of the threshold, just as he had anticipated, were Dumbledore and Miss Larentia.
"Severus, are we disturbing you?" inquired Dumbledore. He had, Severus reflected, an appalling ability to ask exactly the question one didn't want to answer. It wasn't as if he wasn't expecting them; the headmaster and the goddess had honoured him with visits nearly every night this week, but he could not truthfully say that he wasn't being disturbed. Pulling his lips into a grimace that if one squinted just right and cocked one's head to the side, could have been called a smile, Snape answered,
"No. I was just finishing brewing. Come in." He stepped aside to allow them to enter. Dumbledore swept through, Miss Larentia following him closely.
"Leave the door, Severus. Hagrid will be joining us shortly," Dumbledore said.
This was too much. It was not enough that his chambers had been invaded every night; it was not enough that he was consistently asked to perform ridiculous Roman rituals to a mute marble statue; it was not enough that at every turn he had to see Lara being useful; now, that brute of a gamekeeper was going to join this farce they called a resistance? Turning sharply on his heel, so that his hair once again flew across his cheek, Snape glared at his two nocturnal visitors. "What for?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register.
Ever implacable, Dumbledore took a seat in a high-backed chair by the wall and folded his hands in his lap. "As you may have noticed, the traditional offerings have not been sufficient to keep Miss Larentia's magic functioning. We have been here, "Dumbledore nodded towards a darkened niche in the back of Severus' laboratory that now housed the marble statue in a makeshift shrine, "every night this week, but Lara informs me that her magic keeps failing."
The goddess nodded. "It was fine when I was just fixing the foundations," she said. "But now I have to keep track of complex spells that compound one on top of another, and add to them sometimes." She spread her hands in desperation. "I just can't keep it up. I have tried enlisting the houselves to help, but it is even harder to constantly give them instructions."
"I wondered if we could try a larger sacrifice this time," Dumbledore mused.
"A bushel of wheat?" Snape facetiously asked.
"A small animal, perhaps. Certainly, the ancients did sacrifice farm animals to their gods. We could extend that principle to this instance, could we not?" Snape rather thought that Dumbledore was asking one of his impossible questions again. "And then it occurred to me," Dumbledore continued, "that we could use a magical animal. Perhaps its powers would transfer to Miss Larentia's efforts."
"It's nothing but vampirism!" exclaimed Snape.
"Alas, even after all these centuries, we still do not know enough about the nature of magic," sighed the headmaster. "Perhaps magic truly does lie in the blood, as Voldemort contends." He slapped his knees lightly, emphasising his resolve. "Still, we lose nothing in trying."
Snape did not have time to consider the full ramifications of that last bit of philosophy, for just then, Rubeus Hagrid entered the dungeon laboratory. Ducking his head and shrugging his shoulders to fit his massive form into the doorframe, Hagrid stood, uncomfortably toying with the fraying hem of his moleskin coat. He was making strange sounds, which Snape was eventually able to identify as sniffles.
Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked toward the niche, lighting a torch above the statue. "Have you the puffskeins, Hagrid?" he asked gently.
The giant's eyes welled up suddenly and he looked from the headmaster to Snape to Lara with a look of utter devastation. "Do we have to do this, sir?" he asked Dumbledore in a soft pleading voice, much as a child might when asked to leave a beloved possession.
The headmaster walked over to the giant and placed a reassuring but firm hand on his left arm. "We must try, Hagrid, if we are to ensure the safety of this castle and its inhabitants."
The words must have somewhat reassured him, for the giant wiped his nose noisily on the sleeve of his shaggy coat and straightened his dropping shoulders. From his right shoulder, he took a furry lump that Snape had previously thought to have been a breast pocket of sorts. In actual fact, it was the bodies of two small puffskeins, tied by their tails and hanging sadly from a frayed rope. Snape rapidly looked away and shuffled the parchments on his desk.
"Let's begin," called Dumbledore and, in an action that had become all-too familiar, handed the potions master the ancient grimoire.
Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
For the third time that evening, Dumbledore had to call the meeting to order. The atmosphere around the Grimmauld Place kitchen table had degenerated after Arthur's report on Ministry business. "Although the latest developments are indeed disappointing, we must stay focused," he said, waving his hands in the air for silence. "I am glad at least to report that Hogwarts is safer than ever. The structure is entirely sound, perhaps more so than it was when the Founders themselves built it. We continue our efforts to find and fix faulty spells, but I am confident that the job will be complete in the next few weeks. Severus, do you have a report for us?"
Two dozen expectant faces turned to the taciturn Potions master. "As you know, Lord Voldemort has resumed his search for immortality," he began.
"He's not our Lord," Harry Potter said sullenly. "At least not yet."
"And Professor Snape is trying to prevent that from occurring, as are we all," Dumbledore gently reminded the assembly, before the conversation could again turn to matters personal.
"Indeed," frowned Snape. "I have been enlisted, of course, to contribute. I reminded the Dark Lord that if it had been possible to discover the secret of eternal life, it would likely have been already done. But he was most… insistent. I then reminded him that if I were to work on any such potion at Hogwarts, I would be likely to risk the headmaster or, worse yet, Potter, getting at it." Snape twisted his lips into an ugly smile. "That consideration seemed to temper his enthusiasm somewhat."
"But you are still working on the potion?" inquired Remus Lupin.
"Between my teaching, brewing healing potions for Poppy Pomfrey and certain other… invalids, as well as other unavoidable duties," --here he shot meaningfully resentful looks at both Lupin and Dumbledore—"you can rest assured I am devoting all my energy to it."
"I'm glad to hear you've turned your talent for poisons to finding antidotes, Severus," smiled Lupin, so sweetly that Snape barely resisted the urge to punch him. The discussion shifted to other topics, but Snape was no longer listening.
As though the werewolf hadn't been the cause of enough trouble, he held up Dumbledore just as he and Snape were about to return to Hogwarts after the order meeting. "I wonder if I could speak to you, Albus?" he muttered in that raspy voice.
"Certainly, Remus," Dumbledore smiled graciously. Snape rolled his eyes and withdrew to a polite distance that still allowed him to overhear the conversation.
"It's the portrait, Albus…"
"Mrs. Black? I'm afraid we can't do anything about that one, and not for lack of trying –"
"No, no, not Mrs. Black. Sirius!" Remus whispered urgently, glancing around to make sure Harry Potter was out of earshot.
"Sirius?" repeated Dumbledore.
"Yes. It started with a picture frame. It appeared out of nowhere about a year ago, after… you know… I didn't really give it much thought, honestly. I thought someone must have hung it there as a joke. But then a few months later, it started to knit together a canvas inside a frame. And then, on the canvas, I started seeing things. Shadows at first, but then some colour appeared." Remus ran a hand through his greying hair. "It's Sirius, Professor. He's in the frame."
"He's not making a nuisance of himself, is he?" asked the headmaster, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.
Remus smiled. "Not more than usual. And I know it's not really him, I do. But it's Harry I'm worried about. If he sees the portrait, it'll be there, taunting him. I'm afraid that he'll waste way in front of it, trying to recapture the old days with his godfather. There were so few of them…"
"Harry is a strong young man who has proven himself in the face of exceptional adversity, Remus," said Dumbledore. "We must not underestimate him. Perhaps it is a blessing that he will have this portrait of Sirius to remember his godfather by, just as he has photographs to remind him of his parents. An image is a powerful thing."
Lupin's shoulders slumped a little, even more than they already were. "I was just worried, that's all. I wondered if we could move it."
"I understand your intentions perfectly, my boy," Dumbledore reassured the werewolf. "We could, if you like, move the painting temporarily. I have long considered that this house needs to be cleared out a bit. Oh, Molly and her brood have done much to improve it, but I think I know someone who may be able to restore this place even more."
Snape emerged from the shadows in the corridor. "We must return, Headmaster," he said silkily.
"Of course, Severus." Dumbledore patted Remus on the arm gently. "Don't worry, we'll sort it all out. These are dark times, but we must keep an eye on the future to keep our hopes up."
Dumbledore did not dismiss Snape for the night, as was his usual custom after an Order meeting. Not even protestations of hallway monitoring duty could dissuade the old man from immediately going to find Miss Larentia and telling her that she could look forward to redecorating yet another decrepit magical dwelling. Since she was not to be found in either Snape's quarters, nor her own, the two wizards made their way to the ground floor corridor on the opposite side of the entrance hall from the Great Hall to classroom 11.
Lara had taken to meeting the centaur divination teacher in Firenze's classroom, and this night was no exception. The two had laid out a midnight picnic in the middle of the simulated forest space. The moonlight filtered through the trees and dappled the blanket on which Lara sat. The centaur, meanwhile, was playing the Pan pipes, while Lara sang songs of her childhood. The chirp of crickets mingled with the music and the hootimg of owls. It was a magical scene, but Snape was in no mood for Miss Larentia's magic. Striding forward, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her up.
"Time to go," he snarled. "Order business." He turned to go but was faced with the towering form of the centaur, who reared up suddenly on his hind legs, his chest gleaming in the white light of the moon.
"Release her," the half-man, half-horse demanded. Startled, Snape complied and did not argue as the centaur followed them down to the dungeons.
Back in his private laboratory, Snape sat behind his desk, piled with towering stacks of curling parchments. Lara perched on a stool by the cauldrons, and Albus paced the floor. Firenze chose a spot as far away as possible from Snape's collection of specimens preserved in jars of formaldehyde.
"Miss Larentia, how close are you to completing your survey of Hogwarts?" asked Dumbledore.
Lara shrugged. "Not more than two weeks, I should think."
"Very well. And how soon do you think Voldemort will make his move on the school, Severus?"
It was Snape's turn to shrug. "He has the Death Eaters preoccupied with other attacks for the time being, but he might change the tactic at any moment. He certainly doesn't like to share his strategy with anyone."
"Mars grows ever brighter," Firenze commented.
"Indeed," acknowledged Dumbledore. "We must prepare all our defenses. Miss Larentia, I wonder if you would consider transferring your talents to another of our buildings?"
Before she could answer, Snape was up and pacing himself. "I must protest, headmaster," he interrupted. "My objections to Miss Larentia's efforts were ignored last time, so I have no alternative but to offer them again. What possible contribution to the war can she possibly be making that you can justify having her fix up every decrepit building in England?"
"Calm yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Allow Miss Larentia herself to explain to you what she has been doing."
Snape marched up to the marble statue and tore off one of the now-wilted flower garlands. "No need," he snarled. "I already know. But I can assure you all that her efforts will be as useful as this in the final battle!" He shook the tattered garland in his hand for emphasis, but his sleeve caught on another. Jerking his elbow free, he pulled the statue along with it, and it crashed to the ground. Fragments of the ancient marble flew across the uneven stone floor as Snape, Firenze and Albus watched, horrified. Lara covered her mouth with her hands, but her form faded almost instantly. Her shade floated across the room and merged with a cloud of marble dust until she was no more. As she passed him, Snape saw her face, with the same look of reproach that had haunted his dreams for decades.
"Good Merlin," he exhaled softly and looked around him, disbelievingly. Dumbledore just shook his head, and pursed his lips.
"Mars was the god of war and agriculture," Firenze said, cryptically. "You may yet have your chance to redeem yourself.