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Chapter 38. Once you make a blast, make it big enough
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"Send help!" –Sage's voice outshouted the Bombarda Severus wandlessly hurled at the History classroom's ceiling.
A part of the classroom's wall fell and barricaded the door.
"Professor Hagrid should collect this beast!" – Sage yelled through the noise of the falling of stones and mortar while Severus silently summoned Chubby.
"Chubby is happy to serve, Master S–" – Severus quickly put a hand on the elf's mouth and shook his head, leaning close to the creature in the ebbing dust.
"I need you to take these three Gryffindors to their dorms in their tower. Can you Apparate them against the wards?" – he whispered.
"Chubby cans, master, sir, but Gryffindor Head will know it. Headmaster will know it when he returns to school. Chubby will be told being bad bad elf," – he jabbered as silently as he could, shaking his head and making his ears flop around.
"That's all right, Chubby. I want you to do it, and I forbid you to punish yourself for it. You're acting on my order. I also want you to stay then alert to my and Professor Moody's commands because you will have a lot to do today."
He saw the elf's ears shooting vertically with excitement, so Severus added: "And remember to whom you belong. You don't talk and don't respond to anyone else but me and her."
The house-elf suddenly grinned so wide his tiny pointed teeth all showed.
"Master said he sees no difference. Chubby said he wills. Now he sees," – with that, he contentedly nodded and, grabbing the hands of the two Gryffindor boys, disappeared with a pop so silent no one could hear it in the chaos.
From the corridor, confused voices reached them, which convinced Severus about their success in creating pandemonium. He reached into his pocket and produced two phials, levitated them to the far side of the classroom and sought out Sage's eyes.
The witch seemed well entertained while Umbridge's voice finally emerged from the cacophony of the outside chaos. Her words masked Granger's terrified yelp as the dutiful house-elf popped up next to her and whisked her away.
Now Draco's voice rang above the turmoil. The boy asked with alarm if he was also inside – how touching.
"Mr. Malfoy, I hold you responsible for all your housemates staying out of trouble and returning to your Common Room, now!" – Severus called out to the corridor.
"Nonsense!" – the noise of her trying to scamper through the debris reinforced Umbridge's reply.
"Sir, the Headmistress asked us to–"
"Your Common Room, Malfoy," – Severus made sure he sounded impatient enough. "The ceiling is still wobbling."
With that, he got down behind a table and knocked together the two levitating phials at the far end of the classroom with a wave of his hand.
The detonation was profuse enough to open a hole into the next classroom and loud enough to break a window. Severus only heard the screams from the corridor through the ringing in his ears, but when he peeked at Sage, the witch was grinning at him with mischief.
"How long have you wanted to try this?" – She asked, leaning close to his ear.
Severus couldn't help but grin. "Long," – he admitted. Actually, mixing fire crab thorn and manticore spit was indeed a first. "Now let's get to work!" – He nudged the witch.
Sage levitated parts of the debris long enough for the Headmistress to climb through, and she yelled before the broken stones fell back into place:
"Where's Hagrid? Headmistress, we need proper help here with these… things!"
Umbridge looked around obviously puzzled, but before she could form an answer, McGonagall's voice cut through the outside turmoil:
"What on earth are you thinking you're doing? Reparo!"
Sage sent a quick, frightened look towards Severus, who then waited for the Head of Gryffindor to amble through the repaired door. Then, with some annoyance scribbled all over his face, he blasted the ceiling back to its intended place.
Minerva could only stifle her outrage about the debris falling on her heels. But then she took in the scene inside. The Toad before Sage's wand, the dust all over the place, and the lack of her charges…
"Where–" – she began, but Severus suggestively shook his head. It was too late.
"Yes, where is Potter?" – Umbridge shrieked, "I just filed to issue his arrest, I came to take–"
Sage started. "Filed? Do you mean you haven't got the warrant? Legilimens!"
After some moments of tense silence, while Minerva tried to command Severus to talk by lifting both her eyebrows, Umbridge's body finally shook with repeated shivers. Eventually, Sage pulled out of the pink witch's mind and cast a targeted Obliviate. Minerva yelped when the Headmistress collapsed in front of her and quickly pulled her robe's edge out of the way of her fall.
Severus cast a Muffliato before she could speak up, but the Head of Gryffindor was no more to be silenced.
"Enough is enough. Severus. This seems the right moment to explain what's happening here. Where are Mr. Potter and his friends, and what business do you have in this classroom?"
"I called him to help," – Sage was quick to reply.
"Him? You had a class with the Ravenclawsand my students! Rumour has it the devil wanted to expel one of them!"
"Well, we were hoping to feed the rumour-mill with something more convenient," – Severus offered.
"An attack of blast-ended Screwts would suffice," – Sage explained.
Minerva's eyes alternately searched them, and her lips narrowed to the width of a razor.
"Why would you want to get rid of that poor man?" When she got no reply, her eyes narrowed too. "Were you planning to sacrifice Hagrid instead of Mr. Potter? Did he agree?"
"I fail to see what either of them–" – Severus began, but obviously Sage decided it wasn't the time to argue.
"We planned it, Minerva, because we need to appraise the Headmaster of several new developments. Will you help us?"
McGonagall took a deep breath and glanced along with them - the room - the toady witch lying by her feet - and her narrow lips pulled into a haughty smile.
"What are we to do next?" – She asked, blowing out the air with a loud huff. Severus' never been gladder to have the older witch unexpectedly by his side and not anywhere else.
"She will remember she came to investigate the blasts the school had been talking about." Sage gestured to the Toad on the floor. "I am as helpless as I can be," – she simpered. "Severus has an errand to go unnoticed, and we need someone to inform Hagrid about the plan."
Minerva turned towards Severus with more glee than he could like.
"I guess this should have been your problem then, on your way out…?"
"Your assistance is convenient indeed," – Severus admitted with an uncivil bow.
"You just stop mocking me, young man. I know well enough I'm yet to hear the half of it. Now which way out?" – Minerva asked and looked around.
Severus gestured towards the far end of the classroom and let the old witch climb through the hole before him. He looked back at Sage, who was busy casting Ennervate on the Toad. If he spent any time imagining their goodbyes for the day after the months-long moment in time, this surely was in none of his plans.
Grumbling, Severus turned and climbed through the hole. He repaired the wall before he Disillusioned himself and slipped out to the corridor. All faces turned towards the History classroom, so he reached the first passageway without mishaps.
Minutes later, he ran down the steps to the Entrance Hall as quickly as he could. When he finally stepped out of the school, he leaped into the air, not bothering to lift the disillusionment charm before he left Hogwarts grounds and could Apparate to London from behind a tree.
A short conference with the house-elf on the Malfoys' London home's doorstep, and despite Cissy's eager words to hold him, Severus Apparated to the Ministry. If only luck stayed with them for just a little longer…
Even though lunchtime was almost over, Lucius sat haughtily in the Ministry's dining hall, wiping his hands as if surprised by the novelty of partaking of anything in such a low place. Lucius would have sooner stepped voluntarily into a Cruciatus than admit it, but Severus knew this to be his habit whenever had no time to spare for one of his favourite places out in wizarding London. With a silent thought of gratitude for his luck yet holding, Severus stopped far enough from Lucius to catch his breath and don his refined mask of Slytherin nonchalance before he surprised his friend from behind.
"I would have never expected to see you here," – he began, pulling a chair and enjoying every second of Lucius' consternation. The moment was short.
"Any port in a storm, as they say…" – Malfoy sighed, dusting off his robe, probably only to reflect his surroundings. "Please don't say you're hungry; I'm eager to leave."
Severus glanced through the table - the remains of a Crab Louis with an almost empty bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc - and had to wonder where the Ministry-elves got these to spare the Malfoy-sensibility the experience of… well, food.
"I wouldn't dream of trying your patience," - he emphasized the words, "Especially not before I asked you a favour."
Lucius leaned back in his seat. "Ah, I thought I would never see the day you say the words!" – He gloated. "What favour could I possibly do for you?"
"You wouldn't do it for me, Lucius," – Severus quickly pointed out. "You would do it for utmost loyalty."
If he wished to grab his friend's attention, the flash of Lucius' eyes now betrayed his success; however, the old dodger only smiled and meticulously pulled on his gloves. He took his cane before he motioned them both out of the dining hall, nodding towards the serving elf, probably out of sheer habit. He only turned to Severus out on the corridor.
"Well?"
"Your favourite targeted the old fool's golden boy for expulsion. As much as I support the idea, her timing is atrocious. Especially because I just heard she filed for the boy's arrest."
"I fail to see the problem," – Lucius looked around and navigated them towards a service corridor, where he discreetly cast a Disaudio.
"Two questions," – Severus offered by means of an explanation. "Would you tell our Lord that the boy cannot get the Prophecy under the scrutiny of his Ministry-guards? And who do you think would stand up for utmost loyalty in your son's school if I happened to lose my usefulness there prematurely?"
Lucius visibly swallowed. "Well, I guess all that glitters…."
"You seem to favour the old aphorisms today," – Severus remarked, dismissing Lucius' charm.
They walked on towards the lifts.
"There's no need to reinvent the wheel; aphorisms carry ancient wisdom in their simplicity. So who am I to deny them?" – Lucius asked, laughing in the crowd. "I'll see to it. She didn't file for a thing," – he added on a softer tone, standing in the queue to wait for his cubicle. "Wouldn't she complain?"
Severus smiled. "I'm sure she won't."
"Good!"
Lucius was still nauseatingly smug about their agreement when Severus began his uphill walk to Hogwarts castle, following a smooth Apparition from the Ministry's entrance.
Way too smoothly….. It all went way too well not to feel disturbed. Whenever had anything gone according to a plan? For the sake of all that's precious, he already had a plan on his own! Stuck. And now restarted at step five – thank to a wonderfully insane witch… Severus halted. A witch, who promised to meet in her quarters at midnight! If only all went this smoothly until midnight… With his mouth so dry he struggled to swallow, he realized he had a date.
The thought was astonishing enough to just stand for a moment, halfway uphill under the castle, and take in his surroundings. As if the birds and thestrals above the Forest would fly differently by the revelation! They did not. Severus struggled to recall when the last time was that he used the word in any way connected to his life… a date. His memory failed to deliver. Only an idiot would hope. Nothing ever went smoothly and according to plan. Ever, – he reminded himself. Still, he couldn't help but to hope.
The rest of his way uphill served by giving him time to re-arrange his thoughts. Occlumency came handy, and mercifully the idea of a date was foreign enough to hide it as long as he could. There was no way something like that could interfere with his everyday life. Its uniqueness saved the information, just like he was still able to disassociate his thoughts and surging feelings for Sage from his usual mindscape. Merlin save him if this became a part of his everyday! – As the problem was plain to see at his safe-place – he grumbled. That was another part of his memories that he had already wrapped up into its singularity. Nevertheless, a spark of joy remained. He shoved that into a dark nook in his mind and turned his attention to his duties.
Severus was only a little late to his first afternoon class with the last part of his journey back into the castle, through the Entrance Hall, and down into the dungeon classrooms, taken in a rush. All the rest the way down the stairs, he was trying to recall which batch of dunderheads might be in waiting for him and whatever the last homework assignment he'd given to them….
Gods bless the Hufflepuffs! The door shut behind Professor Snape with a bang only he heard relieving, and his wand shot towards the blackboard impulsively, following years of routine like an automaton.
Before the afternoon lessons were over, Severus found his copy of Educational Decree No. 27 which ordered that no one could talk about the bad reputed article in the Quibbler. He remembered seeing that before he found Sage's warning, now he hid the piece into his robe's pocket, and, as soon as the school day was finally through, he walked over to the Slytherin Common Room.
The agitated buzz was loud enough to hear from the corridor before the entrance. The passage leading up to the common room was crowded with students hurrying back from their lessons to gather whatever gossip they could or planning an early dinner before sitting to their neglected readings or pastimes. Now, all froze and halted when they saw their Head of House. Word must have spread about his visit, for by the time Professor Snape comfortably leaned onto the snake-decorated mantelpiece, students from the dormitories and corridors turned up from all direction, shoving each other aside in barely less than practiced chaos.
Severus trailed his gaze through their crowd, amused despite himself, especially when he saw Urquhart knocking a scroll off young Norton's hand that seemed a half-ready Transfiguration homework, so the little boy paid attention to his surroundings. Or when he saw Korch scurry to the side of the room, presumably to give place to the bigger guys. But Severus knew that spot intimately, and contrary to its out-of-the-way location, it gave a wonderful vantage point….
Merlin, he should know!
The Common Room's rules hadn't changed a bit since his days. It was useless to step in. These subtle rules directed Slytherin and held up an order in any kind of chaos. Their downside was the ever-present hierarchy, the upside that even algae had a place in this food chain. This way, even the weakest were protected - collectively.
A wonderfully prepared haunt for one like Umbridge or the Dark Lord – he had to realize, again, and his amusement washed away. Slytherin was vulnerable by nature to autocracy because of its value of hierarchy and sometimes mistaking it for order. However, the one aspect that might save this House was its openness to true talent and creativity. As much as Severus always disliked Slughorn, he knew the old snail was right when he didn't only handpick the rich and the pureblood but also the talented in whatever field.
It wasn't Sluggy's welcoming nature. It was Slytherin acumen – the whale couldn't live without plankton. However, the system was still closed. Outsiders easily misunderstood what they never knew of or lived. The self-sustaining system was created for survival, and now these kids should understand what Lucius called utmost loyalty. Slytherin needed to survive – by necessity: It was its nature. And survival was this time in openness and creativity, not in the hierarchy and outdated rules.
Self-preservation.
By the time the Common Room went silent, and all faces turned to him, the Head of Slytherin House knew without a shadow of a doubt how to direct his errant students. If they wanted to parade with a new badge added to their uniforms, who was he to postpone an early Halloween? But they will learn the stakes before they go on.
"Mr. Malfoy, you look as if you had a question. I believe as a Prefect you might word it as to speak for your peers too?"
"Yes, sir. We heard Headmistress Umbridge. She was ready to expel Potter before… before you ordered us away from the history classroom. Then we heard that Profe–" Draco looked around with a cocky grin that more mirrored around him than not – "that the giant… excuse me, Professor, I was to say the game kee- erm… I mean Hagr –" – by this time enough were laughing that when Draco was actually saying Professor Hagrid's name with the title lost in the noise.
Snape lifted an eyebrow.
"I apologize, Professor. Is it true, there was a Blast-ended Screwt in the history classroom?" – Draco hurried to finish, albeit without any sign of regret.
"That's what they say, Mr. Malfoy. Two of those beasts are mentioned, as you also must have heard it."
"But sir…" – Draco looked about the room, making eye contact with most of his fellows mentioned as the members of the up-and-coming Inquisitorial Squad. Severus somehow resisted rolling his eyes. "The Headmistress… erm… Today, sir, we've been called to assist the Headmistress in isolating Potter until the Ministry would send for him. She… she was talking about his imminent expel…."
The Malfoy boy was not the only one taking half a step back when a small, self-assured smile began to play in the corner of their Head of House's lips.
"And pray tell, Mr. Malfoy, upon what reason would she take such extreme steps against our precious celebrity?"
The confusion was palpable as his students looked at each other, and Severus Snape enjoyed every second of it.
Then, finally, Draco spoke up again: "Well," – he began with a little shrug, smiling as if he had to explain the alphabet – "surely after the Quibbler–"
"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Malfoy," – Severus quickly interrupted, raising his index finger and an eyebrow, and produced Educational Decree no. 27 from his robe's pocket. He placed it with a temporary sticking charm above the mantel. "You were not at all to suggest, I believe, least of all to your Head of House, that you or any of your peers perused a banned piece of press. Am I right, Mr. Malfoy?"
"But, sir, we all–" – young Crabbe began before Draco, and a sixth-year boy simultaneously stepped on his feet.
"No-one, Mr. Crabbe," – Snape assured only slightly above a whisper, but his words still carried through the silent Common Room. "Think!" – he added, and his strictest gaze swept through the crowd. He only went on when he could finally recognize the signs of understanding on some of the faces.
"I am well aware of your new enthusiasm for reading seemingly empty parchments and enchanted pages about definitely not the Goblin Revolution. The point is, not one of you can tell what you've read on those pages. So cannot the pride of Gryffindor or Any. Other. Student. Of this school. Am I right, Mr. Malfoy?" – He suddenly turned back to the boy.
Draco's face was not the only one lighting up with mischief.
"Yes, Professor," – the Malfoy boy answered with a cautious smile. "But to expel him would–"
"Would free him under the obligation to stay silent… about his nightmares. What do you think, Mr. Goyle? Mr. Nott? Would you like to add your thoughts?"
Theodore Nott swallowed and shook his head, but Warrington couldn't give up his prey with the same ease.
"But sir, the Headmistress seemed very much taken with the idea… We all saw how determined she was, and I cannot imagine her to care about–" – at this point, Warrington received what seemed like a punch into a kidney, but it was hard to decide from the mantel whether it came from Jugson or the sixth year Flora Carrow.
"Last time I saw her, the Headmistress seemed to realize that short-sightedness does not become her," – Snape searched the Carrow-niece's face with scrutiny, but he could only find there a measure of curiosity and puzzlement. It seemed better to elaborate: "Advertising notions that are currently forbidden to repeat at your school might have made some of your fellow students unduly popular in some circles… Even the Ministry of Magic cannot wish to give those circles a martyr.
"Whatever is the reason, I expect you all to obey the newest educational decree to a tee, which is, of course, not relevant to the gossip about illegal creatures roaming the school and the consequences." Snape made eye contact with more of his students than they would have liked it at this point, and he finally felt reasonably secure in their keeping confidence.
"Now that we may not have a gamekeeper, I would also suggest you don't endanger the owls with obviously volatile missives. Your parents have a way to know about you," – he glanced at Draco, whose eyes rounded with surprise before he covertly nodded his understanding – "and the Easter break is not so far away as to risk the Headmistress' disapproval, now is it?"
"It is not, sir, we understand," – Malfoy and Warrington were both quick to assure him. Having the understanding of the leaders of the two strongest cliques in his House, Professor Snape nodded and stalked towards the door. However, he could still hear the urgency in Goyle's subdued voice as the big boy asked Draco:
"Now, what the bloody hell was this all supposed to mean?"
"It means you shut up for your father's good, you dolt," – Draco didn't hesitate to explain. "And don't even write home!"
"I never do!" – Goyle's voice sounded as if his feelings were hurt. Severus rolled his eyes and exited through the hidden entrance. Some of these kids were more and more similar to their parents every year.
He hadn't taken more than five steps out in the passageway when the entrance flew open and rushed footsteps followed after him. Severus turned with one move, his fingers already touching his wand, but Jugson stopped short just two steps from him and spoke up with visible struggle.
"Excuse me, Professor, I– I realized it was impossible that the Headmistress… and the Screwts…and–"
"Yes, Mr. Jugson?" Snape's voice was exactly as cold as his insides felt at the moment.
"I think I just wanted to thank you, sir," – his NEWT finished, fixing his eyes on his shoes. It was tempting to tell him off or mock his sudden lack of dignity. But then Severus remembered the morning when the older Jugson's escape of Azkaban made to the Daily Prophet and his regretting his inability to teach the boy the truth returned.
"I cannot fathom for what," – he replied instead. "Keep up the attempts with your antidote-list, Mr. Jugson. They are not overly dreadful" – Snape added, despite himself, and walked on.
He hasn't seen Jugson staring after his billowing robes with mouth agape for long moments even after he turned the corridor because his thoughts were preoccupied with his - mischief…
Hell, was it possible he'd sunk this low again? Not that he hadn't had his fair share of questionable deeds even in his school years... Somehow the visits in the Slytherin quarters always reminded him of those days, for better or worse. But this time, he saw the ease of changing these minds surreal. Was it similar for Slughorn back in his days? If it was, the old bugger should be ashamed for not achieving more…. To stand by and watch a whole Houseful of kids drink themselves into oblivion and wake up to blackened hearts and evil!
Not that he could brag with outstanding success about slowing any of these kids on their tracks to doom but a small victory should count for something…. Shouldn't it? Severus wondered what else he could do if he risked as much for his own as he did for Potter. Surely, what they planned and now seem to have accomplished with Sage and Lucius was a ridiculously insolent piece of work. Impossible to imagine the same under the watchful eyes of Dumbledore. Well, for a Slytherin, anyway. Even for the Head of the House.
The ever-pessimist inner voice already began to add up fate's possible repercussions, which tempered the sardonic half-smile Severus unknowingly sported by the time he reached his seat by the Head Table.
Umbridge looked pale but otherwise her well-known repulsively confident self, even if her pupils recoiled from the lights. Must still have a headache. Severus toyed with the thought of offering her a potion later, just to assess how easy it would be to poison the Toad.
Minerva. Heavens, was that truly a look of murder? Severus impulsively turned his attention to his plate and tried to come to terms with the sharp lines of the Transfiguration Professor's lips. She had either handed out a bunch of detentions recently, or he was the lucky one to face her ire… one more cautious look and Severus was convinced about his chances. The thunder waited for him. Oh, joy!
Knowing McGonagall for longer than he wished to count convinced Severus about the alternatives: He would have a chance to follow the lioness to her lair and offer his poor self for a long and tedious chewing out, or he could play obtuse and would have to have her over later. One more thing to explain away if they got caught.
Yielding to the inescapable sufficiently erased the rest of his smugness, and Severus turned his attention to the rest of the table. Sinistra sat closer to Pomona and Flitwick, all three deep in hushed words stolen behind mouthfuls of food or a napkin. Hagrid. Booted – this was only what he heard.
Sage was nowhere, which he found mildly disturbing, even if he wasn't yet hoping for the witch's return. Midnight… Severus tempered the sudden surge of excitement and glanced at the Gryffindor Head, almost grateful for the distraction. McGonagall pushed herself away from the table, and with one more murderous glance at him, she left the Hall. Very subtle.
After a few minutes, Severus excused himself, and choosing side-corridors and hidden passageways wherever he could, he hurried up to the lair of the lioness. It really felt as if he was queuing up to be a snack, and although Minerva wasn't a modicum less agitated than what he presumed, Severus also felt very much annoyed by the similarity of the situation he had experienced some twenty years before.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Minerva was at his throat:
"Well, I hope you're both happy with your achievement!" The witch began in her favourite pose behind her desk, pushing down both palms on the surface and holding her spine painfully straight. "What could come over you two to weaken our side like that?!"
"I take this means Hagrid is on his way by now," – Severus risked sounding unfazed. It didn't help with Minerva's temper.
"On his way, indeed!" – she harrumphed. "What did you hope to achieve by sending the poor man on a goose chase? I had no idea what message to send to Albus! Not to mention when to tell it! I hardly had time to explain that he should look for non-existent creatures in the History classroom. That hideous devil marched down and sent him packing! I talked to Mr. Potter and his friends, but they seem just blabbering around. I'm all ears to hear your explanation, young man, and don't even try to deceive me. You know that never works to your favour!"
The answering grimace on Severus' face would have made fresh milk sour.
"If you're also into giving out detention, I can tell you, Minerva, that I'm not available. It's–" – before he could warm into his tirade, Severus hissed in sudden pain and involuntarily caught to his left arm. Then, silently cursing, he looked up at McGonagall, who blanched with shock.
"Severus, I'm truly sorry! What's going on?" – she tried to make amends in a suddenly very considerate tone, but it wasn't the right moment.
"You will excuse me if I'm off to make another explanation…" – Severus grumbled, already turning towards the door, but somehow the old witch was already by his side with the quick and silent moves of a cat.
"Go if you must, but I mean it," – she silently said. "I'm sorry for being harsh. I promised to trust you, and I will."
Severus nodded and was out of the door when he heard the dubious farewell: "We'll talk later, Severus!" He could only roll his eyes.
The now usual hurry, Disillusioned, to the gates, and the following Apparition, with his mind fixed solely on his purpose, closed up and disciplined, happened so swiftly, Severus might have been ashamed for his lack of emotion and scruples had he given it a thought. Which he most definitely hadn't. He had no expectations, no inclinations or fears.
His only desire was to serve well, definitely better than his half-witted peers, and he feared nothing but his Lord's displeasure. He wanted to report. It was an honest feeling. He wished to express his disgust of the Toad and bragged inside about making a fool of her in Slytherin's Common Room. He outsmarted the Ministry singlehandedly, without the need of being told what to do.
He was appalled by how Trelawney was sacked and didn't like the hardships of getting out of the castle. He spent precious nights composing letters to Lucius to report in his stead, and if the bastard got the praise due to him, he was ready to punch his face. He worked hard enough. Submerged into the most boring phenomenon of a teenage witch's mind; tried to ascertain which of his colleagues sent an Unforgivable towards Sybil, boldly in front of the whole body of Hogwarts; he got the school rid of Hagrid, who might lead the way to Dumbledore's bolt-hole.
He couldn't be more ready to report. But, as chance would have it, Voldemort didn't seem as if he was prepared to hear him out.
By the time he entered the old manor, the building was loud with the Dark Lord's ire. He heard several synonyms for moron and cretin before he – very humbly – approached the door. The scene was absurdly elevating and fearsome at the same time.
About the middle of the room lay Pettigrew, face-up, open-eyed, staring blindly at the ceiling, his face distorted into a grimace of horror. He didn't breathe. His brethren mostly pressed to the walls bewildered, but Bellatrix, who trembled by her Lord's side, obviously on the receiving end of all those disgraceful adjectives. Macnair, Avery, the older Jugson, the Lestranges and Goyle stood along the walls. In the corner, he saw Narcissa, who shrank as small as she possibly could and wouldn't lift her eyes from her shoes for the world.
Severus' first thought was unhampered glee upon seeing the traitor finally dead, but he quickly adjusted his Occlumency. At least he thought so, but as it turned out, he wasn't quick enough.
"Severus!" – The Dark Lord called out for him and waved him closer. "What entertainment can you deduce from the sheer idiocy of your peers? Look at them!"
Severus straightened up from his low bow and led his gaze again through the crowd. This time he found it more curious whom he couldn't see now. Neither Malfoy nor Nott nor, as a matter of fact, any of their French allies. What could have happened? The Dark Lord quickly read the question in his eyes.
When Voldemort's wand lifted, Severus first paled and tried to brace himself, but then he saw something shiny and familiar dangling from the dark wood. His eyes rounded in surprise, and that either couldn't escape his Lord's notice.
"You know this trinket, do you, Severus?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Would you tell my precious Bella what would have happened to her if I hadn't stopped her from taking this from the thief's pocket?"
Severus couldn't be happier to do so. He looked deep into Bellatrix's deranged eyes before he spoke: "You would have died," – he readily informed her.
"Oh, my Lord, my–" – Voldemort kicked her lazily aside.
"Silence! You stupid bint, only Voldemort can decide when and how you'll leave! Which one of you is ready to follow the thief to the other side? Narcissa?"
She whimpered in the corner and reluctantly raised her eyes. "Y-yes, my Lord?"
Severus could see her tremble, but the Dark Lord was rather in the mood for lecturing this night:
"Your husband's collection," – he pointed out, lifting the jewel. "Can you name it?"
Narcissa shook her head in desperation, Voldemort turned back to Severus.
"Tell them!" – He demanded.
"Seerschmuck, my Lord," – Severus supplied. "Lucius wished to serve you with it. As rare as it is, he believed it a worthy gift to your greatness."
A silent smile crawled through the Dark Lord's face. "As it is his wont. Why would he not warn his brethren, I wonder… you seem to be his confidant, would you testify?"
Contrary to the wording, it was also a threat and an order, and Severus called forth the memory about the discussion they had in Lucius's study to support his words:
"He believed it might help with your search for the Prophecy, my Lord. He was eager to please you either by the object's use or its value. Avery can also attest to it. None of us had any ulterior motives."
He recalled Lucius's words when he swore to buy the Ministry of Magic or when he confidently talked about the Dark Lord's power to break any curse. Voldemort looked straight at Avery, and after some moments of what must have been silent Legilimency, he looked pleased like he hadn't since he returned.
"How lucky for him, you both joined us tonight," – he remarked. "Or I should have suspected some reckoning within my closest circle."
Severus lifted his open gaze at his Lord but didn't try to defend himself. His rare and true innocence was indeed a novelty to show. Strangely enough, the sudden death called forth the old side of the Dark Lord, the one he knew well from his youth. This one wasn't less ruthless but undoubtedly soberer than anything they experienced lately. Lucius would have been glad to see it. Severus was secretly glad he didn't.
What came next was a long and surprisingly entertaining history lesson. Again, the Dark Lord proved his academic skills, engaging the attention of all in the room, from the otherwise boneheaded Goyle to even Severus, with considerable detail and example of a seerschmuck's use and the dissection of the curses usually built into them. For once, it made sense to imagine Tom Riddle teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He certainly knew his subject to perfection.
At the end of the lecture, the Dark Lord stared at Severus expectantly, and he already knew he was probably due for a private lesson, for their Lord was in a sharing mood. Voldemort let the jewel fall onto the polished table with a loud clank and dismissed the crowd.
When Severus bowed with the others, he graciously called him closer.
"First things first, Severus," – Voldemort began in a misleadingly friendly tone. "I hear you have had hardship reaching me lately. I hope you can manage. For I have no use of a servant I cannot reach and who cannot serve me."
Severus bowed low.
"I apologize for my recent troubles, my Lord. I never stopped serving, even when I couldn't leave my post."
"Show me!"
Severus readily offered eye contact and his report for Voldemort's Legilimency. Trelawney's sacking was a scene the Dark Lord must have enjoyed, for he kept replaying it with amusement.
"Have you since worked out which one sent the Imperius?"
Severus shook his head. "I apologize, my Lord. Any of them could be the one in the crowd."
Voldemort donned an eerie smile. "Perhaps Lucius' charge wasn't as wasted as he believes…" – he mused. "I will need to see her again. So where is the seer?" – he changed the subject before Severus could become alarmed.
"She disappeared, my Lord. I have my suspicions about the gamekeeper," – he added. "However, I couldn't ascertain his line of the route before you called me tonight."
"You will do just that," – the Dark Lord commanded. "Macnair!" – he called out, and soon the robust Death Eater joined them, returning from the corridor. "Your prey is again on the loose," – Voldemort informed him. "This time, you will work faster and find him."
Macnair bowed. "Yes, my Lord."
"I don't command you to fight him if he is with Dumbledore. But you will work out his whereabouts swiftly and in silence. You're not in a position to waste my time again."
Macnair sent a nasty, rather jealous look towards Snape, but he bowed again before the Dark Lord dismissed him. Severus could hear him popping away before Voldemort returned his attention to him.
"You proved yourself circumspect enough, Severus. Defending your brethren through their heirs is worthy for the Head of Slytherin indeed. I would still wish to see you change your station. I, Lord Voldemort sent you to serve teaching Defence, and you will. If the old man has left the castle, there's no need to deny our goals any longer."
Severus swallowed, remembering the usual punishments whenever he announced his failure to teach anything but Potions. Dumbledore was inflexible, fearing to lose him against the curse on the position, and the Dark Lord knew that. He had to wonder about the goal of this sudden reminder, and Voldemort must have felt his doubts.
"You don't believe I would sacrifice a good servant for the eccentricities of my youth?" – He asked Severus, amused. "Here, you've worked for your tutoring. I'll show you how to break the curse."
The Dark Lord's wand drew up a complicated chart of magical layers, a map of the curse he invented and planted on the position in Hogwarts. The first loose links Severus recognized were those that tied and implanted the bane of the Defence job into the school-wards. His eyes rounded out by honest surprise. It was an ingenious idea in its simplicity and the last place he would have looked for anything originating from the Dark Lord.
"Your astonishment radiates through our connection, Severus," – Voldemort remarked. "You've never been one to lick my boots; I have to believe you're honestly in awe. Was it so long I ever taught and appraised you? Come, show me what you recognize!"
After the gracious invitation, the Dark Lord lost his intimidating side. The intellectual challenge was thrilling, and Severus more than once had to remind himself where he was and to whom he was talking. The curse was beautiful in its intricacy, elegance and sufficiency, a masterwork to now dissect and unfold with the guiding hand of its creator who kept lecturing about the links through the wards. He taught Snape more about Hogwarts than Severus ever hoped to know.
Before he could wonder how the Dark Lord mustered such detailed knowledge about what only the school's headmasters were supposed to know, a thread glared out of the intricate map, seemed to glow with pulsing light, and led through all the layers. Severus couldn't help himself.
"There it is," – he excitedly showed, "Prima vinculum, is it, my master?"
"You are a devoted student, Severus," – the Dark Lord appraised. "Now, how would you reach it?"
For the first time, it occurred to Severus that he was in danger of showing off more than he intended, especially if he dipped under several layers of a dark curse, still under the Dark Lord's Legilimency.
"Is there a more advanced way than performing a Vinculum a Priorem, my Lord? So the primordial intent is known and shown in this case after all?"
Severus would have thought the snake-ish face had loosened into a grin if he didn't know better.
"That makes you different, Severus. You use your head, even in my presence," – he hissed approvingly. "Watch," – he only warned before he added the mapped-out mechanism of the killing curse to the equation, drawing it to the side of the chart that levitated between them.
The smaller intents, the accessory curses and circumambient jinxes seemed to gravitate towards the powerful dark magic, leaving the pulsing line of the original intent unprotected and easy to reach.
"Dissect it!" – The Dark Lord ordered, and Severus analyzed, then masterfully ripped up the image of Hogwarts' most severe curse with practiced hands.
"How does one get rid of the absorbent, my Lord?" – he eventually pointed on the dark curse which levitated now between them, proudly holding all the jinxes and smaller intents in captive.
"You don't," – Voldemort replied, lovingly pulling his long dark wand through the air as if he caressed the killing curse with it. "You feed it. Such focus and power deserve to be fulfilled."
Severus finally understood. "Human sacrifice."
"Yes," – Voldemort's smile expressed his approval, but it also professed his true passion for darkness, so powerful that it bordered derange.
After a deep bow, he was dismissed in good grace. Then, leaving with the knowledge of his probable challenge, in the wake of Dumbledore fulfilling a position that would possibly kill him if he didn't sacrifice another, Severus' head reeled. His first steps out in the corridor were still confident, but then he struggled not to totter. Finally, he touched the wall for support and calmed himself quickly; still, Narcissa found time to reach his side.
"We need to talk! Please!" – he heard her whispering, and she walked on, without a stop.
Severus forced himself not to look after her; he focused his attention and Apparated back to Hogwarts. It was already past ten when he left behind the gates, as a quick Tempus charm revealed. He spent hours with the Dark Lord, and he enjoyed them! Oh, sweet Gods! He would never learn!
The sad truth was that the Dark Lord knew more indeed than the average follower could grab and comprehend. It was all he wished for in his youth – to learn it from him! And now he finally had a chance. NOW! Now, when he had no more use of it! Now, when he was otherwise engaged! Now?
Severus rebelled against the irony of his life. He didn't appreciate it in the least! He would have given healthy limbs for this kind of tutoring two short decades ago, but now it was only a little more than what he could research, provided he would ever see Heloise's library again…. Which he possibly would not…. Goddamn the bloody allure of darkness! Damn it to pieces! Damn! Severus stopped before he left behind the line of the Forest and blasted a thick and heavy stump into splinters. Two outraged pixies fled and shook their small fists viciously against him.
It was too tempting to crawl back into the Dark Lord's good graces and pry out all the secrets he possibly could. It was still tempting, even if he knew. He knew there was no way to learn as much as he wanted. He knew he would always be a second or a third in line. He knew it would never pay off – and still. It wasn't the allure of the Dark Arts; it was the allure of knowledge.
Was he up to perform a human sacrifice to study the way the school wards let the implanted jinxes and curses go? No, of course not. Would he risk sanity and station to gather more knowledge like that? Shite, he definitely would. There was no way one could ignore his true personality, and Severus Snape was a sucker for knowledge whatever was the cost – so now he grumbled, and panted, and wrestled with himself, damning, again and again, the strong pull of darkness he always struggled to deny…. No, not always, only in this past decade and a half.
Dammit!
Temptation everywhere… which reminded him…. Severus cast Tempus again, and he realized his tantrum had held him for longer than half an hour at the edge of the Forest. Almost midnight! An hour and a half, and he would know if their luck persisted. An hour and a half and he would hold her in his arms!
With a set of clean robes and a shower in mind, Severus climbed up the hill to the castle, putting off the misgivings of the intellectual seeker in favour of the profane, gladly, in a wink.
He was to enter his quarters when an unexpected presence divided from the shadows of the dungeons. He turned towards his office's door, wand in hand, but recognized his student before he could harm her.
"Miss Greengrass, what keeps you up after curfew?"
"Sir, I apologize, but we cannot find Montague… I've been waiting on you to tell. The Prefects already searched through the dorms and all we could think of, but he simply disappeared!"
Severus grumbled unintelligible threats against the moron, who posed a distraction at the most inopportune time, but what could he do but follow Greengrass to the Slytherin quarters. He couldn't remember seeing the boy when he lectured in the Common Room, and now it turned out Montague hadn't taken part in dinner, and no one had seen him in his afternoon classes either.
By the time he had gone through the boy's personal belongings in his dorm and carefully interrogated his dormmates, Severus had to admit to being more bothered than annoyed.
"Sir, are we to appraise the Headmistress?" – Warrington asked, visibly worried.
Snape turned on him with untampered impatience. "Since when are Slytherin's problems to leave these rooms?"
"Sir, I–"
"Not another word, Mr. Warrington!" – Snape advised with fury, "All will keep in after curfew, but the Prefects. If I find any of you withhold information, the whole bang lot will sorry, am I understood?!"
"Yes, sir," – he heard from all around, and he left the Common Room with fiercely billowing robes. The Slytherin Prefects ambled behind him warily.
"Mr. Malfoy, Dungeons; Padgett, Great Hall and kitchens; Parkinson, Library" – he barked out orders for all, sending a seventh year up to search the Astronomy tower, and the Divination classroom, the other one to the Owlery. The other sixth year went to check all classrooms Montague was supposed to have visited according to his schedule for the day. Severus grudgingly hurried out to check with Hagrid… before realizing that the gamekeeper was not around anymore.
Cursing viciously under his breath, Severus rushed down to see around Hagrid's abandoned hut and gardens, regretting he couldn't ask about in the Forest. He had no chance to find an errant student there alone in the night!
Within an hour, all efforts proved futile, and he couldn't shake off the lingering feeling of loss when he saw the time—just past midnight.
"You go back to your dorms and rest for the morrow,"- Severus told his Prefects, shaking his head. "If the dunderhead shows up, advise him to see me first thing in the morning. He's earned the detention of his lifetime."
"Yes, sir," – he heard from all around, only Padgett was brave enough to dawdle. "Sir, will you search on? I know Graham. It's not like him at all…."
"Rest assured, Miss Padgett, he will be found and punished," – Severus grumbled. "Now toddle off!"
"Yes sir," – the girl almost timidly nodded and dashed away.
Honestly, this was indeed unlike Montague at all, and he felt torn between his belated shower and combing through the castle instead of – whom did he want to mislead? Sucking in a dissatisfied and guilty breath, Severus was off to the second floor, Disillusioned himself, and probed Sage's door against the witch's wards. To his astonishment, they yielded obediently on the smallest intent, and the door opened for him for the merest touch on the handle.
Severus stole into Sage's quarters silently and closed the door.
"Beauxbaton," – he called out against the darkness. Not a single candle was alight, no fire in the hearth. He saw nothing that would indicate the witch's presence but the eerie acceptance for him in the wards. Could she fix them to let him through? Why would she do that? It gave a strange fuzzy feeling of being trusted, but that couldn't hold against the worry.
Severus cast Tempus for the umpteenth time that night – a quarter past midnight. She was nowhere.
I should be looking for Montague.
The following hour was a blur of guilt, uncertainty, worry and desire. Severus combed his fingers through his hair every time after casting a redundant Tempus, fought against the urge to light a fire in her hearth because feeling cold in the darkness still felt somehow more polite than to trespass even more.
She should be here soon. We will look for Montague together.
Severus berated himself for being childish and went out to search through the castle under the guise of guarding the corridors. Maybe she remembered to call for the house-elf. Perhaps she wasn't in danger. It was better to come back late than to rush into some foolishness. He had better chances to find Montague.
After interrogating the house-ghosts and the more trustworthy portraits, about half-past three, he was back again in her quarters. Sans-Montague, of course! If he ever gets his hands on that brat, he would–
Where the fuck is she? Struggling against all-compassing panic, Severus called his elf.
"Master called Chubby, Chubby is ready to–"
"Leave the pleasantries! Have you seen Professor Moody?"
The creature shook his head with his ears flying around him.
"Chubby, you would hear if she called you, would you not? Even from outside the castle?"
"Chubby would hear, sir, but Mistress Sage called Chubby not. Chubby is a good elf to serve her if she calls."
"If I sent you after her–" – Severus realized he had no idea where to find Sage. The point was for him or any other not to know where Sybil would hide. Damnation and all foul servants of the bloody hell! "Can you find someone without a call or any pointing towards their whereabouts?"
The elf's eyes rounded out in surprise, but he could probably see his master's desperation, his heaving chest, and horrible mood.
"That… would take time, Master," – Chubby carefully replied.
"Do it!" – Severus breathed. "I don't care how long it takes. You have no other duties until you find her. And report me the minute you do!"
"Yes, Master." The elf seemed anxious, but he bowed low and took a step back before he popped away.
Severus ambled aimlessly about the friendly living room, keenly averting his eyes from Sage's bedroom door whenever it came to view. Persisting luck, indeed! You should know better than to hope by now! How could you agree to this, you miserable fool?! How could you let it happen if you knew it was a bad idea? And now the Dark Lord wants to see her again too! You deserve it all, you moron!
But she doesn't! - a different voice screamed in his head. As if he needed a reminder!
Tempus – It was already almost a quarter to five. The castle would wake soon. He knew he shouldn't risk calling attention. Severus stole out of Sage's empty quarters, got back to his chambers and readied himself for the new day.
Not long after six, in fresh robes, showered and shaved, Severus Snape emerged from the dungeons to fetch a coffee in the kitchen without calling attention by calling a Hogwarts elf to serve him.
He hadn't taken three steps through the Entrance Hall when he heard Filch's asthmatic coughing and the screeching noise of the caretaker's ladder on the stone floor.
"Ah, Professor! Fresh and early, as we should," – Filch grumbled his greetings, obviously hating to climb the ladder.
"Argus," – Severus replied. The big screen and parchment Filch held in his hands seemed sinister. As if understanding his suspicious glare, Argus Filch was quick to explain:
"Educational Decree No. 28. The staff and the students should refrain from leaving their posts. The Headmistress should authorize every outing - that pearl of a woman! No more comings and goings in the night, Professor!"
Severus stared at the parchment. It was signed, countersigned, and dated to the previous day. It promised expulsion or instant dismissal in every case - beginning the previous day.
He was almost through the shock of it by the time Umbridge announced Professor Moody's dismissal at breakfast.
Almost.