Hi,

Here, I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as loved writing this part! I would like to dedicate this chapter to all the Dolores Umbridges of the world (if you know those I am talking about) (of course, you know) before we will slowly start leaving the realm of canon's time schedule behind, from the next chapter. (Very slowly, I promise!)

Straight citation with bold

Oh, and of course whatever you recognize is not mine, all citations are marked, this is Rowling's universe and I am utterly, completely, and very very grateful to play only for fun, receiving no money, whatsoever, only the endless joy!

So...

Chapter 19. Inspection

October began with lively weather. No traces of clouds were in the sky, although the chill bit the leaves off the Forbidden Forest's old trees. In the warmth of the Great Hall, under the Enchanted Ceiling, the month's first Monday promised to be a sunny day. Much for Severus' gloom. He was not affected by the deceptive brightness, but more by the weekend's developments and the night's before.

A modicum of rare optimism made him count the good things among the bad ones. Because on the one hand, he was still alive, and so was this crazy witch against all reason and odds. However, on the other hand, it seemed hard to preserve this state, hearing about not one but multiple Horcruxes that threatened the world.

He used to be carefully hopeful about their chances. Maybe it was more like hoping for a miracle with the state of affairs and the imminent war. Now? Who would be there to guide him if the only wizard ever capable of at least slowing down this madman sank into the depths of insanity, losing his mind? No sunshine could erase the consequences, and he was as much of a worthless bastard as his father deemed, for an errant thought kept lingering on the edge of his dark musings: Beauxbaton sat, like always, four seats down from him. By chance, he probably had made a friend. Selfish idiot.

He diverted his thoughts by remembering more pressing matters while reaching for another piece of toast. It seemed the well-posted house elf was right to warn him of his upcoming inspection. The last thing he needed as an additional bother was to endure the Ministry-witch's dubious dealings as one of his chores. It could not be helped, though… They may call the woman Pinky and various other names, as Beauxbaton told him, but that wouldn't change the fact, the whole staff had to be on their toes.

As it became the new normal at the table, Minerva and Pomona discussed only the weather, but that in great detail and occasional additions from Filius, sometimes even others, mostly to thwart Umbridge's attention. On the end of the table, Vector, Sinistra, Grubbly-Plank, and if she dared to brave the Great Hall, Pince, indulged each other with another silent conversation. Silent and seemingly unimportant enough not to call for attention.

His gaze slid towards Beauxbaton, sitting in the middle. She often turned to the other end, but curiously not this day. Her face was still weary, just like the last time when he had seen her and said his goodnights. Did she spend the night contemplating the events? What made her look this way?

Severus turned slightly and realized that the pink toad already ceased talking. He was the unlucky recipient of her full attention since he'd sat down today, but up until now, an occasional "hmm?" and a thrown-in "mmm" had satisfied her enough. Disturbingly this time, it didn't seem to be the case. With momentary hesitation and mild disgust Severus probed the surface of her mind.

"Slytherin House has the most students carrying the full wizarding heritage, as I hear." – This was the last she said and still stared at Snape expectantly.

What the hell…

"Mhmm."

"Aren't you the youngest Head of House in its long history?"

What do you want?

"As far as I know."

"What do you think the Headmaster had in mind to appoint such a young colleague – when was it? Ten years ago?"

"Fourteen, and I believe you should ask him."

"Oh, of course, of course… Did you have any hardships fulfilling such an important job at the beginning of your carrier?"

I wonder if you asked Minerva the same…

"I cannot recall any hardships."

"Surely it must not have been easy," – she declared. "You've had the responsibility since a very young age to tend to and to train the most exceptional heritage and heirs of our most well-respected families attending this school." As for Severus decided not to answer if he heard no question, she had to add: "What did you do before filling the job?"

I made poisons that could kill you within a few seconds. I watched people get tortured and killed. Not different to what you are, only wiser, they still could not escape. And if ever I should watch you go through the same, Merlin help me, for I should not wish to enjoy watching such torment.

"I was polishing my skills."

"In potions?"

In gaining the self-control to deal with you...

"Also."

"Entrusted with raising the most precious offspring of wizarding families, you must have had a special upbringing."

Oh, it was special indeed, if you just tried a day of it!

"Which line of the twenty-eight do you belong to?"

Smartass.

"I am not directly linked."

"Surely you must have some connection in your lineage?" – The menace giggled.

Fuck me if I carried around my certified pedigree for every bloody breakfast, even if I had one!

"I'm a Prince."

"On your father's side?"

Witch, do you think?

"My mother's."

"Severus, would you be so kind as to pass me the butter, please?" – Minerva cut in, and he tried to remember if he snarled. "Thank you. What do you think about this exceptional weather?"

"I'm sure it will rain soon enough."

"Can you enjoy this rare sunshine in the dungeons?

Severus stared at Pomona Sprout like he saw her for the first time and tried very hard to find an answer that was different to yes, and you should see our underwater snowman every year.

"According to the optic rules of transmittance."

"I always wondered how you perceive outside rain from underwater." – Filius offered, obviously trying to help, but, for Severus, every additional attempt was far too late.

"Wet."

About this point, Severus noticed Beauxbaton hiding her face behind her napkin long enough to rein in her amusement and absently raised an eyebrow as if asking if she was having fun.

"Do you have any special career goals based upon your early ascent to such an elevated station?"

"No." – He answered the Pink Peril while he watched Beauxbaton silently excusing herself. Because she could! Blast her!

Knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid Umbridge anyway, Severus decided he had enough for the time being and slid his chair back. "It was a rare pleasure," – he cut the pink toad midsentence and with what even he felt resembled more a snarl than a polite smile, he nodded towards the others and hurriedly took his leave through the backdoor.

Curiously, Beauxbaton still hadn't reached the Entrance Hall on the short service corridor. She peeked back above her shoulder before she took the corner and disappeared from sight.

Snape crossed the Hall to the oak door with measured strides and stepped outside before the first lessons of the day. Sure, in the rare sunshine, he wasn't the only one. Some early risers already enjoyed the weather by the lake after their breakfasts, and with all certainty, Beauxbaton stood just four steps from the door.

"Not you again" – he greeted her silently, although even the closest student was far enough not to hear them.

"Good job keeping your composure" – she gave him a side-look. "D'you know what happened just now?"

"I assumed not a peaceful breakfast."

"She's just announced your inspection. She's doing it today. Croaking slimy toad, that's her favourite part! Picking on her prey before the fellow wakes up, and she keeps on babbling all day long!"

"Sounds like you already had the privilege."

"Oh, yes, on Friday," – she rolled her eyes before a wicked grin won out. "Cursed bad luck, such a nuisance can spoil an otherwise perfect weekend, wouldn't you agree?"

"I dare say, you found a way to bow to your obsessions, only wavering in the face of hardship, but learned something new even at night."

"You're shameless," – she told him like it was a sudden revelation, "and if I happen to try and learn something new today too, I advise you against trying the same with something croaking on your heels."

With that, she turned back for the oak door, and Severus had only a second to remind her as she passed by him, "Just don't forget to share!"

Her nod was nigh imperceptible, but it happened, just like he now could take for certain he didn't have to find a way to attend to Dumbledore. Thankfully she would. Honestly, it was for the best, he might have gotten over his initial shock, but the Headmaster's sight last night would haunt him for days.

Unfortunately, with these two short minutes, the day's "ups" were already behind him, giving way to an endless row of "downs."

The fourth years of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were the unhappy recipients of his first wash of "cheer" when a silly cough cut his lecture about midsentence. And the torture began.

By some unexplainable stroke of luck, Piggy Pink could hold her tongue – mostly – for about half an hour before she addressed, and thoroughly confused, the students, that time already deep in their tasks. Most looked at him with the wildest alarm and dared only give the inspector only the shortest answers. Grumpiness had finally paid off.

To escape the toad, he hid in his storage room for the better part of the recess. Surely she would have attempted to follow him there too if the door didn't stick behind him. Who thought this might happen in such an old castle? One point to wandless magic.

As it happened, these walls were closer to the corridor, so he became the unenthusiastic observer of a row between his Slytherins and Potter. Young Malfoy again. He used to like the boy, but his timing now was really substandard.

It began innocently enough. Some bragging was not surprising when the Quidditch season came to a close. However, when he heard the boy openly boasting with his father's influence over the Weasley's father's job, he already knew he would have to step in.

By the time he managed to get through the door he had closed so carefully and stalked across his classroom, he heard something about the mental wards of St. Mungo's thus could not be less surprised to see the Longbottom kid beside himself. His housemates were not of use; hell, what made Potter sit on that miserable brat? Would he want to deflect all the curses until someone else got hurt like last year? Ten points comfortably left the Gryffindor collection.

He made an attempt again to teach. Coughing.

Get choked!

"Class sees fairly advanced to their level."

D'you honestly think?

"Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer if it was removed from the syllabus."

After my weekend, I find it advisable to make it a crucial part of their O.W.L.s.

As far as he could remember, some younger colleagues of the Ministry would have been relieved if it was not part of their exams. They might have been similarly relieved if he still lay helpless, with a swirling head and retching, preferably out by the gates…

Seriously, the Solution just proved its use, and I won't let these pathetic idiots die an untimely death just because you found it hard to learn. He straightened his shoulders and faced the witch.

"Now… How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

Have you forgotten it in two short hours? His gaze fell on her notes.

"Fourteen years."

Severus suddenly felt the intensity of Potter's gaze on his side. Heck, if the brat just once focused this forcefully on his task, he might prove himself not to be so utterly useless.

"You first applied for the DADA post, I believe."

"Yes."

"But you were unsuccessful."

Did you prepare to share my whole CV with this class, or do you have something to cheer me with even after lunch?

"Obviously."

"And have you applied regularly since…"

Occlumency came in handy yet again. Not that this witch could ever ascertain his thoughts, but having his growing rage under lock and key couldn't hurt.

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore consistently refused to appoint you?"

He maybe is omniscient, even might see parts of the future, and knew I was less likely to drown you into a cauldron than to hex you. Another prime example of him miscalculating.

"I suggest you ask him."

"Oh, I shall," – she smiled.

A full-grown boggart would flee the way this witch's lips stretched!

He tried his best and made all efforts, but Severus' patience was rapidly wearing off.

"I suppose this is relevant," – he asked back. Go away!

"Oh yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er – background."

Do you mean you wanted to pick on a Death Eater?

The witch turned suddenly away, making him recall and check to make sure he hadn't said that out loud. Background indeed! What fun it would be to find his first year at teaching was just a year before the Dark Lord vanished, and all those wonders that the Wizengamot must be still keeping! Witnesses, confessions, Dumbledore's testimony… Call the Prophet! - He fumed.

And nosy little Potter was eager not to miss a word! He ran him down and made sure the boy gave equal attention to his cauldron, but of course, he didn't! One day this could save his unworthy little ass, but the brat only trusted his wand and couldn't stop prying! Hopefully, a thorough essay on Potter's mistakes would teach him what he missed.

Then it happened again: the unhampered hatred he only knew too well, the hate that followed him through his school-years, the hatred of James bloody Potter radiated from those very green eyes… Severus turned away abruptly, he could never stand this, and the brat couldn't punish him more for all his sins against his mother if he wanted! The year he began to teach… How could he let the toad get to him?!

The rest of class was enough to regain control while he watched the pink toad disturb his Slytherins. The Parkinson girl seemed to even enjoy the opportunity. And Draco – Severus was almost proud his House tried to use Umbridge as a tool the Ministry provided. Almost.

She croaked something about him joining her in the Teacher's Room at the beginning of the recess, and Severus hid in his storage room again. No way in hell would he escort this toad through the corridors!

Severus contemplated some smaller accidents the next time she happened to cough. Or even more likely to enhance Lucius' precious special mead with a strong black draught. Co-operating with the retardants would serve him miraculously for staging this madness, even if he got only saddled waves! Gloating, shiny-haired bastard! How did Beauxbaton phrase it? The princess with his attitude and cane? – The memory added some much-needed lightness to his mood.

He prepared himself to brave the Teacher's Room the best he could and climbed the stairs. Grubbly-Plank and Vector greeted him as he sat by the empty table. No journals, no books, only that kettle with the ugly kittens, and of course, Umbridge.

Sitting in an armchair with a handful of scrolls and attempting to correct and grade, Severus hoped against all reasons to somehow stay undisturbed. After a few minutes, Grubbly-Plank complained about the thestrals.

"I was sure Hagrid trained them well, but after I examined that owl, I don't know what could have attacked her."

"Oh, this is concerning," – Vector replied. "I thought the school-owls got training against them."

"Yes, the school-owls do, but not the private owls. They do have some mishaps now and then. I only feel special regret to see this one in such a state. You don't get every day to tend to a snowy owl, and this one is exceptional. Fortunately, it will heal completely."

Severus' quill stopped for a second above the parchment. He only knew of one private snowy owl around. A peek at Umbridge - the ministry-witch sipped her tea with obvious satisfaction.

"Have you read the papers?" Vector carried on. "Black was spotted again, this time in London."

Grubbly-Plank waved a hand dismissively. "Like every other day. Honestly, I am unconcerned about his whereabouts until they spare us the Dementors. Some animals are vulnerable to their presence, not only the students suffered. I hear a unicorn foal tried to flee the Forest when they broke in on Hogwarts grounds two years ago."

"The Ministry does a great job researching the fugitive. You don't need to worry about him much longer." – The pink toad croaked and looked upon them expectantly, but no one felt the need to debate with her.

"I never had any doubts." – Plank replied with a curious grimace and tapped out her pipe. "Time to return to duty, Vector?"

She eagerly joined her, and Severus held back a discontented grumble finding himself alone with the toad. She didn't waste her time.

"I assume you can properly prepare Veritaserum."

Severus' suspicions got even stronger seeing her smile.

"Yes."

"Is it true you already have some in your depository?"

Would you like to drink it?

"A smaller amount."

"How much precisely?"

Her voice was hurting his ears. What makes an adult witch simper and primp every word she utters?

"Less than two phials," – he lied. "May I ask what is behind your interest?" – He cautiously asked.

She now giggled. Why do some witches keep doing it?

"Of course, because I would like you to present me a sample. For educational use."

As educational as a Black Quill?

"Has the Ministry revised the regulations on the serum's use?"

"The Ministry of Magic gave me special rights to present its interests. As the High Inquisitor, I have the authority to revise minor regulations."

Bugger, did she flutter her lashes?

"A relief as always. When would you wish to have your sample?" Or in whatever shall I pour it for you?

Umbridge smiled as broad as only she could. "Before the evening, if you don't mind."

He minded. Words failed to describe how much he minded, but Severus knew his place, obediently nodded, and tried to fix his features into a moderately friendly manner while doing the math.

Potter's owl was caught above school grounds. Black has been seen, the idiot, again. Whether the owl carried the boy's letter or a reply, the toad must want to interrogate the kid or someone else who might know on the issue. He'd heard Potter had managed remarkably against Imperius, so if he tempered with the sample just a little, the boy might have a chance.

"I'll go and look after it," – he emerged from his chair, showing more eagerness than he could possibly feel, and stalked out of the room, leaving a very much contented witch behind.

The rest of his free time he spent tempering the potion. Enough active substance to give the impression, but sufficiently weak to overcome with relative ease. With the amount of distilled water to the two drops of serum, he was confident enough to drink it himself if it came to that. He readjusted the lid and applied the certified charms of the MESP[1] on dangerous liquids. It was illegal, but at this point, he felt hopeful even the grandmasters and red-tape experts would agree with what he did.

Before his next lesson with the Slytherin first years – where he admittedly gave as little attention and opportunity to the Gryffindors as he possibly could – he hid the rest of the Veritaserum behind the shelves of his storage room into a hole in the wall and charmed the entry.

When he walked up to the Great Hall, he was keen to present his brew to the toad so everyone could see it and acted like he enjoyed her praise. The murderous glances that darted against him left him unfazed. He might have just won his little battle of this so-called inspection, but more importantly, now all his colleagues knew what was to come. You're shameless – he remembered Beauxbaton's voice with sudden clarity. Probably she was right.

Finally retreating to his quarters, Severus listened through the house elf's report. Korch came off badly again. The tacit, sickly but diligent boy reminded him of someone from his past. Draco boasted of his row with Weasley but hardly mentioned Longbottom, and a sixth-year student, Pane, heard of some gathering in the Hog's Head he only saw disbanding. Most found it peculiar and planned a preventive strike on the Hufflepuffs as the chain's presumably weakest part. He wondered what that might have been about, especially with the new educational decrees hanging on the walls.

Severus leaned back in his armchair as soon as the elf left and breathed out a long and calming sigh. His magic seemed to wait only for this moment. He didn't bother with training for days, and the unbound bastard seemed to demand its due now. It was craving freedom and duty, he felt it in his fingers, throbbing under his skin, and he had no clue what to do about it.

The Dark Lord told him exactly what he feared the most. Oh, not that he was too weak to study this branch of magic, and definitely not to insinuate that he lacked talent. Those were typical enough comments born of envy, and he was used to those. If he had any question about if his attempts were pathetic, both Dumbledore and Beauxbaton seemed to think it was the other way around. Although he had told the Dark Lord that he'd been practicing for years, and Beauxbaton deemed his attempts good for a year-long training, so the Dark Lord might not see him strong enough with his few months training compared to the years he lied about. Well, there was that. He couldn't help it. However, this would never be enough to truly frighten him away. Mentioning the Obscurial was different.

Ever since he blew up the ceiling above his head, Severus feared he had accidentally let something loose in Siberia that should have been left at its place. The mention of the spell supposedly to unbind his magic underlined the "accidentally" part of his explorations. Should he try and find the spell that he should have used to achieve this?

And what exactly did he achieve? Whatever he completed only gave him bother and danger. Both masters he served turned their obtrusive curiosity towards him; he had damaged his ceiling; risked his station within his own House; and felt dragged along by the will of his own magic. He never wanted his magic to rule him; the whole concept should be the other way around!

What if he had truly lost control of the situation? What if the Dark Lord was right? Like him, he was not known for telling obvious lies, but just twisted the facts to painful half-truths, dangerous half-truths that served his means. Severus knew this time the Dark Lord didn't want to kill him. Still, his life hung on a thread. Wasn't there enough trouble around him without this madness? Had he evoked it and trained it to consume him?

Self-destruction had never been far from his tendencies. As a matter of fact, his behaviour since his youngest age suited the definition. Standing up against his father had never been promising, but he did it sometimes willingly just to divert his attention. He had sought out the darkest books hidden in their attic, even when Eileen spanked him for defying her rules. Lily had warned him, but he couldn't let those thoughts go. Severus always felt there was something bigger than him to look after in the dark arts. Consuming some of his own poisons for its fun, and later for the deceptive moments of some peace of mind, was also a prime example. And those were not even half of it! So why should he expect now to know what he was doing? His instincts had obviously never served him well enough.

If he found the spell the Dark Lord mentioned, he could create a counter-spell and bind his magic back to its place. And therein lay the problem. For if he was honest, finding such a spell after perusing the whole library of Hogwarts in vain seemed hard enough, but using such a counter-spell felt absurd. He could do it, yes, he was obstinate and accomplished, but the feeling of his magic throbbing through him was amazing. It reminded him of the love and appreciation he felt for magic as a boy.

That was the exact feeling had that ruined him, and it could never go away, not even now. The best part of that nightmare was eating his own wand. He always wanted more than an external piece of himself, a wooden and artificial tool. It felt unnatural. People around him lived with their wands like he did, but they never seemed to perceive it as an external link, rather as a part of their anatomy. If he ever told someone how he felt, they would have stared at him like he said he didn't feel his right hand belonged to him. It was nonsensical, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

And so came his love for potions. A different outlet for magic. Art on its own right without foolish wand-waving and ridiculous incantations. Something possible to consume because potions became parts of the receiver like he felt they were also part of the brewer in their own special way. Potions were neither good nor bad. They served. The brewer decided where to place them with clear intent whenever offered with knowledge on their use. Potions were his escape, and Dumbledore found it safer for him than the Dark Arts, but obviously, they were part of his perception of the One Undivided Art.

No one had ever understood this, no bloody Gryffindors, no housemates of his in Slytherin. As a child, he pursued magic in its full capacity without any particular intentions, and the feeling came back in Siberia after years of mud and dirt when turning to the dark side for revenge and to get rid of the pain. Maybe he'd brought back the gift of openness and admiration by understanding what a fool he was… a thought worthy of Dumbledore – he grimaced and pushed himself from his armchair to begin aimless and discontented pacing in his room.

Entering Hogwarts, he hoped to understand more. He used to be happy in his anticipation, the only happiness he could recall. With Lily, of course, and she waited with him. But he could never make her truly understand what he felt. She was so pure, at least he thought she was. What else could she have been with her clothes smelling so fresh and clean? And he remembered to see her flying, at least for a short time when she jumped out of that swing. The memory gave a tiny pleasure, which soon turned into pain.

Lily might have flown unaided as an untrained child as he did, but she was repulsed by darkness. Unlike this strange witch. Sage had those pitch-black spots in her mind that Lily never knew. Severus could sense it only focused elsewhere. The Dark Lord did not. He celebrated in her the possibilities—a severe warning, such as Leroy's fate. But Beauxbaton would never recoil if he told her about the concept of the One True Art. She was less than Lily in purity, and her soul was far from innocent. Did she expect when she took her path that it would be the downfall of the man she so viciously hated? Disturbingly, Severus could not know.

He paced his room with his hands hidden behind his back to escape the sight of the sparks of his unruly magic popping between his fingers, and he prayed for them to cease. Incredibly they did his bidding. After a few rounds back and forth through the room, even the throbbing subsided, and he collapsed into his armchair, unsatisfied and grumpy, to fall asleep.

Tuesday proved his pessimism was right about the weather. Severus found it hard to focus on his classes when his favourite rainclouds graced the sky outside. All those scents of wet earth, rotting leaves and the endless falling of rain enticed him to go outside, even if just for a few moments, but it couldn't be helped. Duty grabbed on his robe's tails and held him inside.

He had to spend his lunch-break watching Sinistra struggle under the Pink Peril's unwanted attention and went back to his quarters only to be greeted by the house elf carrying Dumbledore's message that summoned him. Two more classes and no chance to stay away.

He performed his compulsory walk through the castle, slowly descending from the towers and the seventh-floor corridor. He encountered Prout again, close to the Ravenclaw Common Room, and deducted ten points with great satisfaction.

Severus was reluctant to attend the Headmaster, but when he got through the Gargoyle and up the stairs, he found a room infused in the comfortable aura of a long discussion. He almost apologized for breaking it. However, both the Headmaster and Sage, who sat curled up in an armchair, greeted him with a silent welcome, and he joined them with a feeling of being accepted. A rare occurrence.

"We were discussing possibilities, my boy," – Dumbledore began, waving a hand towards his Pensieve. He seemed uninclined to discuss his poor showing on the other day, and Severus let him have his way mostly by the lack of any idea of how to address the issue at all. "I assume you have learned a lot about my concerns lately."

Assume? Severus bit back a saucy reply and deliberately refrained from peeking at Beauxbaton.

"Some of them." –He conceded.

The Headmaster didn't seem to mind his wording. Strange. Was he prepared for his aloofness? Severus began to believe this discussion was partly the consequence of seeing Dumbledore in a less dignified moment and started wondering if he was to be punished despite the friendly welcome. Still, the mood in the room didn't suggest that. Severus swallowed warily and adjusted his occlumency. But the Headmaster went on in the same manner.

"You have outdone yourself, my boy. I don't hesitate to admit whenever my judgement fails me, and by gathering another piece of the puzzle, you proved yourself worthy of praise and knowledge. I trust you will be efficient in concealing what you already know; otherwise, I cannot grant that the tragedies we both lived through were not for naught," – Dumbledore looked at him from above his half-moon shaped glasses with a sad smile of regret. – "But I'm sure I don't need to remind you."

No, he did not, judging by the quick rise of the bitter pain in Severus' chest, and he swallowed again to keep his calm. His minute reaction must have been enough for the old wizard, for he carried on without a pause:

"We were talking about the Horcruxes, Severus. I am sure you understand my concern when I use the plural."

The Headmaster re-acquainted him with a tale about an orphan boy, whom he found in a Muggle charity school during the ominous era of Grindelwald's ascent to power. The boy already seemed to be troubled and soon proved to be trouble himself. His peers dreaded him, and his Muggle teachers were glad to get rid of him. During his Hogwarts years, he'd shown particular talent and a reluctance to go home Severus secretly understood from his own experience. The boy also showed an unmatched ability to make others follow his lead. Then Dumbledore invited them to visit the memories.

"I think I already know who you are talking about." Severus silently said when he lined up with Sage and the Headmaster by the Pensieve.

"And you would be right, my boy, I'm sure. You will also see the memories I have and which I acquired when he applied to teach DADA here, and his dealings as a young man choosing the wrong way. Come now!"

Watching through the memories that confirmed all Beauxbaton told him felt peculiar and partly wrong. It would have been hard to explain, but he remembered a man from his youth in two different ways. One of those was of course gut-churning disgust and hatred for his deeds, but the other was amazement and fear if he was completely honest. Seeing the wizard, who was even the Death Eater's nightmare as a vulnerable boy at this early age, was surreal. It made him – human.

His sweet-talking and his mannerisms had not completely worn off even to Severus' day. The way that child raised his head and tried to rule in his obvious emotions, the way he betrayed his eagerness and the manner he held his hand when talked to the younger version of Dumbledore proved him all too real. And made Severus recoil.

The young man he saw at work was surprisingly much farther from the monster he knew; he was more laid-back, disciplined even, but his gaze was closer to Snape's own experiences. Severus felt the danger long before the Ministry worker whom Dumbledore interviewed. He was glad he didn't need to watch another death but the Headmaster was not satisfied with the fact.

They also required the memory about a witch's death if possible, and Severus reluctantly agreed by following this rational thought process, but not in his soul. He'd seen enough death already by the hands of the monster.

"I have the list of the lost artifacts by the time Tom finished his employment at Borgin and Burke's, and I have a list of Hepzibah Smith's legacy. My plan is to find more evidence and correspondence to provide assurance with the memory I acquired from my friend Bob Ogden and the two lists we already have," Albus said.

"The locket," – Beauxbaton interjected, and the Headmaster nodded.

"Exactly, my dear, and for you were the one who helped me spot it, I am hoping you might find a way to acquire it too. Severus, my boy, may I rely on your assistance for Sage's endeavours while I take a short leave to gather some more thoughts on the matter?"

Both stared at the Headmaster but with different reasons behind their shock.

"Albus, at this time, with all the Ministry's meddling, you are needed here. Let me go for you!" – The witch promptly offered.

For Severus, the Headmaster's short escapades were hardly new. Now he began to understand where his business took him and had already prepared to hide it all. Considering how surreal this whole discussion felt, he had high hopes he could do without too much effort, for the entire scene didn't belong to his everyday life. It was not linked, and while things stayed so, his mind could keep this memory reasonably safe.

How to help Beauxbaton was a different question. Now he had two tasks from two masters, and both felt vital. For Voldemort, he should find a way to the Prophecy or at least a way to enter the Hall with Lucius; now, for Dumbledore, he should find a locket he only saw a description about, with Sage. All that while both of them were exposed to the Dark Lord's choice of Legilimency, torture or any other unexpected ideas, and while both serving as a punching bag for the Pink Toad's moods.

He had to wonder if this all was wise.

"Headmaster, how many pieces do you expect to find? Tearing a soul apart is a dangerous process. It had to influence Him more than we can imagine. Yet you are talking about multiple items, and by your reasoning, I see it's probably justified. The problem is double. One, we have no idea how tearing his soul or losing it in any manner would influence Him and everyone around. The other is, we don't seem to know when we would be ready with our quest, if ever. This branch of the Dark Arts is highly unexplored. We don't know about many risking their souls willingly. Even those who tried never risked to jeopardize it multiple times."

"I understand and hear you both," Dumbledore sighed. "However, my dearest Sage, I wouldn't risk it. After your last outing, I needed all my powers of conviction to stop your father from dragging you away and lock you up in your rooms," – he glanced at Severus – "and from other inconvenient ideas." – He added. "At the same time, I need your assistance, my boy, exactly because of your expertise. Now you can't complain I fail to recognize your achievements; however dearly some had to pay for those, it is their nature."

The hint about Alastor Moody's inconvenient ideas made Snape uncomfortable enough even without mentioning the cost of his inclinations towards the dark arts. Dumbledore wanted to remind him of Lily's fate to preclude his old habits raising their ugly heads. He knew that. And it felt like a punch in the stomach, unexpected and forceful.

Meanwhile, an adventurous glint sparkled in the Headmaster's eyes, and he already went on - "I believe I am the best candidate to investigate the circumstances of the esteemed old Hepzibah Smith' decease. And I think I already know where to start… Upon my return, we will hopefully be closer to answering your questions."

Heavily occluding, Snape could only nod, and he didn't mind at all when he found himself out of the office when the moving staircase started slowly under his feet.

"What was this all about? What did he mean to tell you?"

With a momentary lapse of attention, he shot her a curious glance. "I cannot fathom what you could mean, Beauxbaton."

"Oh, don't take me for an imbecile. He played you. I just cannot understand how."

They passed the Gargoyle and stepped out on the empty corridor.

"You are wise to cease your insinuations about the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I have already warned you."

"You did," – she pulled a shoulder and suddenly grabbed his wrist and held his hand before them. – "And what about that?"

Embarrassingly those little sparks of magic, white and nearly imperceptible, kept jumping between his fingers again. Severus tried to pull away, but the witch's grab was strong, and he couldn't fight her unless he wished to pull her off balance.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"It's everyone's business if you fail your practice. Should I remind you, we are living under the same roof? These walls hold ancient magic. Perhaps you wouldn't get it all collapsed."

Facing his fears again and disinclined to share them, Snape finally was angered enough to tear off from her clutch.

"I can handle it," – he stepped back, determined to leave her before the witch cast a Disaudio and silently said:

"You don't seem to. Why didn't you tell Albus? He could have helped."

Safe under her charm and still feeling some aftereffects of the meddling old wizard's provoking words, he didn't hold back.

"Why would he bother? Your dear cute Albus already shared what he fits for me. You don't need to worry witch, I will not blow you up unless you force me. Obtrusive favours must be a family trait where you came."

She winced at his last words but kept her hushed tone yet. Severus felt it must have been hard.

"He should bother because it's important. You need proper training. This is a warning sign, if-" –she suddenly fell silent and stared at him bewildered. "You mentioned you trained with the Dark Lord!" – She gasped.

"I never said any such thing!"

"Yes, you did; you said we won't discuss that! Are you training in wandless magic with the Dark Lord?"

When Severus turned his face away, she approached him and looked into his eyes from dangerously close. He waited for her attack of Legilimency, but it never came.

"You should not trust him! This magic is ancient. It has more sides to it than the one he uses!"

"How would you know that?"

Sage looked about the corridor and dismissed her charm.

"Come with me!"

[1] Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers is a society of potioneers led by Hector Dagworth Granger. According to .com. In the Chapter "Sage," the MESP certificated cauldron was also certified by them.