Chapter 10: A job is drawing 2-5. A career is like a life sentence with no chance of parole.
Rowena sat in her brother's office, staring at the large pile of freshly marked papers, quill dropped idly beside them. In black robes, cloak, boots and gloves, she looked like a floating head sitting there in the only comfortable chair. The chair had been in the family's little library, but when Severus took over the Headship of Slytherin he'd moved the chair along with the poison/potion section here.
"I look like a leech with my treasure heaped all about," she thought wryly to herself.
Draco Malfoy interrupted her thoughts as he knocked on the already open door. He was one of the few Slytherin's to stay over the holidays, a fact that was not lost on many. "Professor?" he asked. "You wanted to see me?"
Rowena nodded. "I did." She motioned toward the footstool of the chair she was sitting on. "Sit down, young man. I don't like craning my neck." She waited, then asked, "Do you know why I called you down here?"
Draco shifted uneasily on the stool. "This doesn't have to do with Potter or Weasley, does it?"
Rowena narrowed her eyes. "No, but I'll hear your version later. I am curious to know your plans after Hogwarts."
Draco shrugged. "I have another year left to go."
"I realize, but I wondered if you plan on following your father's path."
Draco frowned. "You mean at the Ministry?" He glanced at the open door.
Rowena ignored the glance. "I mean as Voldemort's servant."
Draco's eyes became hard, but he didn't reply. He was, in many ways, more a Black than a Malfoy, Rowena mused. Too quick to curse, too slow to scheme. The Blacks took instant offence at anything, especially the last generation, Bellatrix and Narcissa both.
"Hardly a noble or honorable way to live," Rowena commented. "Living a life of fear from behind a mask, not even admitting to the kill. Degrading oneself for a half-living creature that fancies itself a man."
"You both serve him!" Draco burst out. "Father said--"
"You will find no mark on me, boy. When and if I kill I do it with honor and skill, not with some curse a child could be taught to use."
"But—our Head--" Draco stammered.
Rowena dipped her head. "Your morbid Head of House does what he thinks he must. We will not dispute his …creative reasoning."
Draco seemed to mull that over in his mind. By his expression, he didn't come to any conclusion he liked. "May I be excused, Professor?"
"Ye—no. I want to hear your version of the goings-on between you and the golden Gryffindors.
Harry Potter darted back up the stairs before Malfoy came out or the new Professor Snape heard him. He was so intent on getting away from the two of them that he barreled into Hermione Granger. "Sorry!"
She scowled at him as they both bent over to pick up the split books. "Honestly, Harry," she began.
Harry, intent on one of the books, interrupted. "Hey, is this any good?" He hefted it a bit between his hands.
Hermione sighed. "It's alright, I suppose, for the pure-blood families, but it is certainly biased, especially--"
Sensing another lecture on SPEW, Harry quickly asked if he could borrow it. He barely waited for her consent before dashing out again. Once alone in the library, Harry took a closer look at the thick volume. Noble Wands, the title read. In smaller print: The History of the 22 Great Wizarding Families. He flipped to the back of the book, and wasn't really surprised not to find an index. Another flip revealed that the book was set up chronologically, from the mid-8th century to present day.
"Wonderful," he muttered to himself, turning to the first chapter. He figured he'd be there the entire night trying to find what he needed.
Rowena sighed as Draco was finally allowed to leave the office. She hadn't known the depth of the feud that ran between him and Potter. Oh, Severus had said something about the two, but this… this could result in a feud not unlike the Potters and the Snape's.
And thinking of Potters…She had known, of course, that Harry had been eavesdropping, had heard quite of the conversation, in fact. Unlike the rest of the faculty, she believed that the young man was capable of handling the darker aspects of the wizarding world. He would need everything to succeed in merely surviving the war, let alone vanquishing the Dark Lord. Only fools hobbled themselves willing.
Besides, the charm on that last test of his would make sure that harry was drawn to any conversation by staff, outside the Headmaster's office and the staff-room, that involved her or her brother.
Let him have that to chew on, she thought as she picked up her journal and headed up to the staff room.
Minerva McGonagall found Rowena in the far corner of the staff-room, writing in her journal, a mug of tea forgotten beside her. As there was no one else in the long-paneled room, Minerva tried to asked the question that had been hovering around at the also Order meeting.
"Your brother hasn't returned, I take it?"
Rowena didn't look up at the other as she straightened in her chair and took a deep breath. "No," she said at last.
Minerva swallowed, trying to think of something to say that would not be ludicrous when the young woman continued.
"Sometimes, to prove their loyalty and devotion, they were required to stay for long periods, perform a series of tasks. I'm sure," she ended, voice flat, "that's all that has happened."
"Of course," Minerva agreed. "Severus can take care of himself."
Sprout entered the room before Minerva could think of a reply to Rowena's anguished, "Not this time, he can't."
By scanning the text, Harry was able to go up to the 12th century within an hour. Afterwards, though, he ran into the Snape's every few pages. It seemed they had been involved in every battle, skirmish and argument since.
Nothing really caught his attention. He was looking for something that would explain the comment: "When, and if, I kill I do it with honor and skill." It had tripped something in his memory, something from Binns' class.
It was nearly one o'clock by the common room clock when his tired eyes finally caught something of interest. A single line:
Under the joint orders of James II and the Ministry of Magic, the Assassins Guild and the King's Guard, under the command of Martimus Snape, took up arms at the Boyne River, where William of Orange soundly beat them, forcing James II to return to exile in France.
He blinked, then re-read the sentence. Which had been under Martimus Snape's command, the King's Guard or the Assassin's Guild? Harry continued to read, only after a few pages realizing that the Snape's never appeared again until the epilogue where—
… in the late 1970's, Severus Snape was awarded the rank of Potion's Master at the age of 23, making him the youngest master in over 480 years.
Harry finished the book, but found no other references to the family. Every other family of 'purebloods' was mentioned throughout. So why had the Snapes disappeared for over 300 years?
Author's Note: The Battle of Boyne River was in 1690 between James II and William of Orange, who did force the exiled ruler back to France. The age of Severus Snape when he took the master's rank hasn't been revealed to us by Rowling, so that's my guess.
R&R, people. Thanks.