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Chapter 4
"I carefully poured… one, two, three drops… and then a pinch of powdered Bundimun secretion. Seven times I stirred the delicate green potion, seeing my fingers around the phial through its transparency, and then seven times the opposite way. Almost imperceptibly, the green colour darkened and the phial became a little heavier. And there. My part was done. Now the second half of the potion. She should have finished by now.
"Ms Black," I called, in a slightly raised voice – she was across the large room. "Is the moonstone and Acromantula venom solution ready?"
"Yes. One moment."
I heard her pour something and then a moment later, she came, gazing stonily in front of her, carefully avoiding my eyes, holding a large glass container, filled with a dark purple liquid. I was not offended in the least, but was it really too much to ask that the woman look where she was walking, instead of gazing straight ahead like an Inferius?
I took the container from her, briefly coming into contact with her hands. Why were they always so warm? It was important that I handle the container with the utmost care. It had taken many hours to brew the potion, and to drop it would have been a huge waste of time and precious ingredients. Gently unscrewing the cap, I set it down on the solid mahogany table in front of me. Donning my dragon skin gloves, I moved a fresh, empty and smaller container towards me, and poured a little of the purple solution into it.
I held it to my nose and sniffed; a slight fragrance of jasmines crept up my nose, but behind the delicate scent, there was a sharper and more poignant sting – like that from a spirit. Perfect. I held it up to the light, inspecting its transparency, its viscosity, its thickness.
"Brewed to amazing perfection," I muttered to myself, totally forgetting my companion.
Perhaps her claim to being experienced at Potions was well-founded? This… this Pétale… she was a strange thing. After all, I had seldom seen a potion more exactly made. And a rather complicated one at that; there was only one person I knew who could make a potion to that exact specification, and that person was me. I looked at her appraisingly. She flushed, all too aware of my gaze, but still blindly refusing to look at me. 'Lord, what fools these mortals be!' I thought in amused exasperation. The little woman had remained indignantly aloof from me since our argument. Women! I thought.
"This is… well made. Your first time at brewing this?" It cost me. It seriously did. I was not in the habit of handing out compliments left and right; in fact, this was probably one of the few times I had genuinely felt surprise at another's talent.
Apparently, Pétale felt surprised too, because she turned towards me, a look of shock on her elfin face. She nodded.
"There's more to you than meets the eye Ms Black," I mused to myself.
Immediately, she looked away.
I snorted. "Anyhow, let us continue. Let us see what happens when we mix the two together."
She reached over to the phial I had been working on, and gently added two drops to the purple solution; immediately, the purple turned into a brilliant, shocking, luminescent orange.
"Good. Perfect. And now to test it." I conjured a mouse – white and terrified – and before it could realise where it was and run for cover, I inserted a few drops into its mouth. Immediately, it disappeared. I could sill here it squeaking, and with a disinterested flick of my wand at the source of the sound, I conjured it whence it had come.
"It worked."
And we had not used Unicorn Blood.
o.o.o
"If I had thought that perhaps the Invisibility Potion was the worst and most unethical thing we would be making, I was sadly mistaken.
Let me explain.
After two more days of working like we were, Pétale and I had reached a ceasefire. A truce. It was impossible to work in an environment where the only people involved weren't even talking to each other. As I had suggested earlier the relationship was kept purely professional. Nothing personal was brought into the conversation. Not that I cared. As far I was concerned, at work the only thing that should be discussed was… work. And I had learnt to appreciate her better. She was, what I called, an innocent potion brewer. She knew the text-books inside out. She could brew anything I told her to. But she knew absolutely nothing about the darker side of potion-making. The illegal, the unethical, the forbidden… and she was little more experienced than a child.
So once again, when we got our next assignment, she was puzzled.
"But what's wrong with that? I'm assuming they mean something that can destroy them?"
I looked down at the paper that had been left on my desk: 'Devise a Dementifiyng Potion.' There were no references, for one simple reason: this had never been tried before.
I collected my thoughts. "No, they don't. That's the problem Ms Black. The only way to destroy a Dementor is by using the Patronus Charm. Perhaps great wizards like Dumbledore know other ways, but I doubt the average wizard or witch would be able to use them. Aside from sucking all happiness, hope and power out of those nearest to them, Dementors can also turn others like themselves by performing the Kiss, and sucking out their souls. This is the only way that other Dementors can be made… by other Dementors. That's not the way the Ministry wants it. No… they're not asking us to make a potion that will destroy Dementors… they're asking us to make one that will… create Dementors."
She gasped. Her pale fairy face became paler still. "But isn't that…"
"Illegal? Unethical? Moral suicide?" I nodded. "Yes it is. But when has that ever stopped the Ministry? They don't know what they're doing. Undoubtedly a potion like this can be created. But if it falls into the wrong hands…" I shuddered. "Voldemort (she gasped – the name did not bother me) scarcely needs more weapons. This would mean that an ordinary witch or wizard – a child for all we know – could create one of the most monstrous creatures alive. I don't even know how you would go about it. Not yet anyway. Nor do I wish to know. Yes the Dark Arts and the more unethical side of Potions have always interested me… but not to this extent."
There was a pause.
"I refuse to make this."
I looked at her. There was a determined look on her face. Small as a pixie and stubborn as a mule, I thought. "You refuse to make this?"
She nodded.
"And you
will not help me to make this?"
She shook her head.
"You will in fact march straight to the Ministress and you will give her a piece of your mind?"
She nodded again.
I burst out laughing. "Very well, Ms Black. It was wonderful working with you."
"I don't care if they fire me Snape. I will not be a part of something like this. And if you have any ethics you will not be either."
I was amused. "But my dear woman… do you think your resigning your post will make any difference whatsoever to your position?"
"They can't force me to make something so terrible."
"I beg to differ. Undoubtedly, you were told that 'your skills at potion was tremendous' and that you would be working in the Department of Mysteries here on in?"
She nodded once again. I could see the cogs turning in her mind.
"And you think you have the choice and freedom to resign when you did not have the choice and freedom to accept or decline the initial offer?"
She was silent.
"What I mean, Ms Black is, that your options, at this time, are rather limited. You can either attempt to resign, unsuccessfully I can assure you. You can consider yourself a fugitive and, as the cliché goes: 'run for it.' If caught you would either be killed, brainwashed or sent to Azkaban. Once in the Department of Mysteries, you can't simply 'walk out.' You will be relieved of this job when the Ministress wishes it. And at the time when she does wish it, certain – more sensitive – parts of your memory will be modified so that you don't 'spill the beans' about what you've been doing her. If there wasn't a war raging around us, it might be different, but since we are in one…"
She had paled once again. But as I looked at her, I saw a fiery flame of resistance spring up in her eyes. She pulled out her wand, and clutched it tightly.
"I told you Snape, I will not be made to brew things that I don't want to."
I was truly alarmed. Surely, she didn't mean what she was saying? "You'll get hurt, woman."
"Oh please. I'll risk the chance of being hurt to keep my freedom instead of being locked in this room, being forced to create disgusting things stuck here with-"
I knew she was going to say: 'you.' And judging by her blush, she realised this too. The thought, I admit, bothered me somewhat. How dare the little wench suggest that I unfit to work with? After all, had I not tried to keep my temper in check – an attribute, I can say with confidence, that could not be applied to her?
I turned my tone as waspish as possible. "By all means, oh seeker of freedom and upholder of moral justice, try all you will. I shall wait here patiently for mademoiselle's return."
"Goodbye Snape." And with her little nose in the air, she stalked out.
o.o.o
Ten minutes later, she was back. Fuming and as angry as I had ever seen her. She had been 'escorted' back by a witch in green robes – showing she was an auror.
"So how was your little sojourn?"
She stood up again and pointed her wand at me. "Oh shut up Snape. At least I tried to get away. At least I have some sense of right and wrong!"
I watched her lazily, utterly bored with her vexatious energy. "Oh please, woman. At least I have common sense. Rather that, than being right all the time. Do you really think feeling righteous is going to get you anywhere?"
She was gritting her teeth, and I was amused at the enormous self control she was employing against leaping straight at my neck. "Do you really want me to disarm you again Ms Black? I suggest you do not threaten me, since really… I have done nothing."
And it was true. She was taking her anger out on me. I really had done nothing. I had merely suggested the foolishness of her course of action. The woman knew what was good for her, however, and she lowered her wand, sank on to a chair, and assumed a seemingly defeated air.
"Oh if I could only contact Father! He'd get me out of this mess!"
I was interested. This was the first time she had mentioned her family.
"I did not know that Black had a sister." I mused.
"He doesn't," she replied.
"Well then Bellatrix…?"
"No…" she replied again.
I was confused. "As far as I know, there were only two Black brothers…"
She remained silent. Touché. She didn't want to talk about it. Very well. I concentrated my mind and entered into her memories. But almost immediately, felt myself facing a mental block – albeit a rather crude one.
"Oh stop it Snape. You read my thoughts once before. I didn't say anything. But I assure you that if you try it again, I'll curse you to high heaven."
I snorted. "Of course you will. But… you are a Legilimens?"
She paused. Then smiling, she shook her head. "No just an Occlumens."
"You can guard your mind – not very well mind you – and yet you cannot penetrate others'. Ironic." I smiled languidly.
There was a slight silence.
"Tell me something, Ms Black. With all respect," I sneered, "how is it that you are so…"
She looked up towards me.
"…small?" I finished, keeping my laughter in check.
I saw her flush. The sight satisfied me somewhat. "What business is it of yours?"
"Oh none really. Mere curiosity. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were about seven years younger than you appear."
She turned away, red with humiliation. I snorted.
"Come now, littlemaitresse. Surely the subject doesn't embarrass you?"
She turned back towards me, slightly composed. "I'll tell you Professor," there was scorn in her voice – I became on guard, "if you can tell me something."
I gazed curiously at her. "And what do you want to know about me?"
"Why are you so… horrible?"
I smiled with coldness at her. "It's my nature."
She quickly spoke again: "I want to know something else as well."
I nodded my consent.
"Why were you a greasy, sallow-faced nobody at Hogwarts, up to his eyeballs in the Dark Arts?" she smiled sweetly.
I waved my hand. "You offend me not," I said casually. It was true. "As to 'greasy and sallow-faced,' believe me if you want to, my appearance was as it was entirely by my choice." She snorted in disbelief.
I smiled again. "The reason you might ask? I had absolutely no wish in anybody – particularly the female of our species – taking any interest in me. Handsome creature that I am, I would have been quite inconvenienced if I had stupid, giggly teenage girls convinced they were in love with me," I said contemptuously. She snorted again.
"You do not find me attractive Ms Black?" I asked her in a purr.
She burst out laughing, and then gazed at me, up and down, much like I had done to her a few days ago. "No, I don't Snape."
I sneered, gazing at her with the intensity of an eagle. I saw her squirm. I enjoyed it. "Of course. Not even a bit?"
She shook her head.
I laughed. "You will of course forgive me… for not… caring?" Pétale huffed.
"As to your second query… myself being a little nobody…" I chose my words carefully. "Frankly, I knew I was a talented individual. My skill at Potions would become legendary, I knew. I was exceptionally capable in the Dark Arts. So what if I was unpopular at school? The thought really did not bother me. I knew that once outside Hogwarts, I would be… truly great. I knew that most of my fellow pupils would lead lives as eventless and dull as themselves; they who possessed nothing but scorn for me. As the saying goes: 'Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognises genius.'"
"Oh please!"
"You take me in jest, oh fair one," there was evident sarcasm in my quiet voice. "But was it not yourself who, having first met me, said: 'Severus Snape, yes I know… who doesn't?' I believe it was you who said this."
She became quiet, realising the truth of my words.
"I want my answer?"
"What?"
"I wish for my answer Ms Black. You are so miniscule because…?"
"But… I…"
"A deal, fair petal, is a deal."
"Oh stop it!"
"Stop what my delicate flower?"
"Stop with all these ridiculous names? Can't you call me by my name?"
I curled my upper lip in scorn and contempt. "As you will, Ms Black. I thought it would add colour to our conversation."
She burst out laughing.
"I want my answer."
She sighed. "Very well Snape, very well."
I conjured myself a chair and sat down opposite her, and waited expectantly.
She was sitting across from me. Her face was a delicate shade of pink, and her little hands were twisting her black robes. She was looking down at them, and her lashes cast a shadow on her cheeks.
Not as bad as she seems at first, I thought. She does not possess the looks to make someone blindly in love… but she's not sore to look at. There was a certain charm about her.
After a few minutes silence, she stood up, squared her shoulders, and looking directly at me said: "I'm not telling you anything Snape. It's a very personal thing, and I don't know why I should tell you anything that I don't want to."
I looked at her, half considering whether I should simply crush any mental defences she had put up to shield her thoughts – I could as easily have done this as turn her into a swan – and find out her secrets by reading her mind. But I decided against this.
"Very well."
She looked at me strangely.
I shrugged. "I have no interest in you or your past."
"Rude and impolite as usual. Couldn't you have said something like: 'I wish to know only what you want to disclose?'"
I sneered again. "But that would have been untrue."
She sighed, apparently giving up any efforts to teach me politeness. Suddenly, she looked back again. "And what of this Dementifying Potion?"
I had temporarily forgotten about this. But once again, I shrugged.
"You mean you're going to make it?"
I looked at her scathingly. "Of course not. If you had used two atoms of common sense – I'm sure you possess that amount, although your later actions have lead me to believe otherwise – they would have told you to wait and perhaps find out what I was going to do, instead of marching out in your self-indignant righteousness to uphold the truth and purity of your character."
"Oh spare me Snape. And you couldn't have just told me? You had to see me make a fool of myself?" she replied angrily.
"I warned you Ms Black."
"But…" she spluttered, "you didn't tell me that you had something in mind!"
"You are an adult Ms Black. Surely you could have worked out for yourself that I would never make this potion?" I countered, enjoying her frustration.
"You sadistic bat! Snape… you… you…" she trembled in her rage.
"Calm yourself Ms Black."
"You meant for me to act like a stupid little child. You enjoyed it."
"While I can fully affirm the latter accusation as the whole and complete truth, the former is obviously a misunderstanding on your part."
There was no consoling her. She was stalking left and right in front of me, on the edge of hysteria. "You did. You didn't say anything because you wanted me to appear foolish!"
"But of course you would know the implications of my actions and words better than… oh say… me?" I asked her.
"What is the matter with you Severus Snape?" She finally turned and looked at me, turning her big, angry eyes upon mine, her fists – once again – clenched into fists by her side.
"I thought, Ms Black, we agreed to keep this relationship entirely and completely professional?" I replied quietly.
She breathed deeply a few times.
I continued. "Leaving all childishness aside, let me tell you what I propose." I stood up, muttered "Evanesco" and the chair disappeared. "Simply this: we are instructed to 'devise a potion.' This potion would be a horrendous thing if created, and so our – by this meaning yourself and I – good sense of morality naturally is in confliction with our instructions. There is no way – without bringing harm on ourselves – that we can avoid making this potion."
She opened her mouth to argue again. And in that second when she was unprepared, I caught her eye and initiated a mental connection. "Surely, Ms Black you do not believe that our very words, our actions are not being monitored as we speak?"
Her eyes widened once again. "I didn't know…"
"Undoubtedly. It would be wise to go along with the drama. The only way – without any harm to ourselves – that we can escape the making of this potion is by purposely failing."
Her eyes widened as she finally caught on. "You're saying… we should pretend we can't make the Dementifying Potion?"
"That is the only way."
Aloud I said: "We will try to make this potion."
And she nodded, still looking at me.
It was a horrible place, Headmaster. Everything we did was watched. We were forced to brew horrific potions, and if we did not brew them, if we forced to stop working, our very lives and freedom were at stake. This war had stripped the Ministry bare of any sense of decency.
I contemplated coming to Hogwarts to ask for your help, but I knew that as an Unspeakable, my actions outside the Department of Mysteries and the Ministry were watched.
o.o.o
"One morning, about one and a half weeks after we had started work in the Ministry, a few days before Christmas, I approached my desk, to read that day's instructions. Pétale usually arrived after me. This morning was no different.
I picked up the slip of paper and read command written in the same handwriting as usual.
I come now to the crucial part of me story.
