27. The Death Eater
Callie went looking for Snape one day at the end of April, but he wasn't in his office. She and Neville needed a couple of rat spleen's for their next tutoring session, and the potions master was sure to have some.
After trying his office and living quarters, she made her way to the Potions classroom, where the door was slightly ajar and she could hear an older male's voice. But it wasn't Snape's; this bloke's was rougher and considerably more... panicky. Yet familiar.
"It's going to happen soon," it said. "It's getting darker. Any day, Severus, it's going to burn."
Callie pushed the door open just a bit wider to get a look. The man who spoke was Igor Karkaroff, the headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute.
"Do you think I don't know that, Igor?" Snape replied, testing some kind of solution on a mouse. A Shrinking Solution, she assumed, as the mouse shrank into a little pink pup. "What is it you want me to do about it?" Snape asked the headmaster.
Karkaroff stood behind the potions master as the latter restored the pup to its original size and moved on to another sample. "He's going to come for us," Karkaroff said. "We're dead men, Severus, you and I both. And everyone else who abandoned him."
"I've nothing to fear," Snape replied. "Do as you wish, run and hide if you must. But I'm not the coward that you are."
Callie furrowed her brow. What they hell were they talking about?
"A coward? That's what you call me?" Karkaroff said. "Christ in Heaven, man, if he only kills us it'll be an act of mercy! Want to end up like the Longbottom fellow and his woman, do you, a lunatic?"
Callie did a double take. How did either of these two know about the Longbottoms, especially Karkaroff? And why would he worry about ending up like them?
Maybe he'd fought in the war? she mused. Maybe he'd known them... had Snape?
"I can endure a few good Cruciatus Curses," Snape said. "Trust me, I've done it before."
"You think the Dark Lord will stop at that?" Karkaroff said. "He'll slaughter us all once he's had his fun!"
The Dark Lord. Oh, God...
He's back.
Callie's mouth dropped open in horror. She continued to watch as Karkaroff grabbed Snape by the shoulder and spun him around to face him.
"Get off me!" Snape yelled.
Karkaroff glared at him. "You think you're safe here," he said. "You think you're protected. Well Dumbledore's no fool, Severus, he knows what you are."
Snape wasn't intimidated by the man, who stood about four or five inches taller than him and was much bulkier. He stood right up to Karkaroff and asked, "What am I, then?"
"You're one of us," the headmaster said, staring daggers at Snape. "You've always been one of us. I know the things you did in the war. I was there. You're not the harmless convert who suddenly saw the light and turned noble. You were just trying to save your own skin like the rest of us! You rat!"
Karkaroff grabbed Snape's left arm and pulled up his sleeve. Callie saw the potions master's pale white skin, and on his inner forearm, a big black tattoo of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.
"You were one of us!" Karkaroff yelled. "You still are! It never goes away!"
Snape ripped himself from the man's grip and shoved him away. "Put your hands on me again, you filth, and I'll deliver you to the Dark Lord myself! Now get out!"
Callie bolted down the corridor, up to the third floor to the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. "Peppermint stick!" she shouted at it. But apparently the password had either been changed, or it just didn't work when she did it. The gargoyle didn't move an inch.
"Come on, you big, dumb bastard!" she yelled at the sometimes-inanimate object. "Move!" She gave it a good kick, but all that did was send a shockwave of pain through her foot. "God damn, it!" she cursed.
"God has nothing to do with it, Miss Warbeck."
She turned to find Dumbledore coming towards her down the hall. He looked as calm and good-natured as ever.
"Professor," she said, limping towards him on her injured foot. "Professor, I need to tell you something, sir."
"Certainly," he replied almost cheerfully. "Please, join me."
He got the damn gargoyle to move out of the way - "Saltwater taffy" - and they went up the spiral staircase into his office. Standing before his desk and turning to her, he asked patiently, "What is it, Miss Warbeck?"
"Sir," she said, still gasping from the pain in her foot and her sprint up three stories, "Professor Snape... is a Death Eater. I saw his Mark, sir, the same one the pictures showed in the Prophet last year." She had seen the story the day after the Quidditch World Cup, during which a riot had broken out when a group of You Know Who's followers invaded the campsite. "Headmaster Karkaroff is one, too, I think," Callie went on, "but I didn't see his mark."
Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her. "Slow down, Miss Warbeck," he said. "And take a breath, dear. You look quite flushed." He conjured a glass and filled it with water from his wand, handing it to her.
"Thank you, sir," she said, chugging it.
"Please, sit down." She did as he said, and he refilled her glass, waiting for her to catch her breath before he spoke.
"You saw Lord Voldemort's symbol on Professor Snape's arm, you say?"
Wincing at the name, she replied, "Yes, sir, I did."
Looking off into the distance, the headmaster said, "Only his most loyal followers received the Mark," as if to himself.
When he didn't go on, Callie said, "Yes, sir, that's what I've heard."
Returning his gaze to her, he said, "So Professor Snape must have been one of those loyal followers, if he bears the Mark."
He didn't seem quite as appalled or as shocked as she'd been expecting. "Yes, sir, a Death Eater."
Once again, a thoughtful look crossed his face, and he went behind his desk to sit down.
"Sir, I-" Callie began "-I'm not making this up, if that's what you think. I'm not mistaken, sir, I'm sure of it."
"I believe you," he said, "as I, too, have had a look at Professor Snape's bare arm."
Callie hesitated. So, he knew? "Sir?" she said, befuddled.
He studied her a moment, then said, "Professor Snape was a Death Eater, years ago."
Callie's jaw dropped open. Even though she knew what she'd seen, hearing the headmaster confirm it was somehow just as shocking. "But-" she began, but again, he held up a silencing hand.
"About a year before Lord Voldemort's downfall," he explained, "Professor Snape defected from his leader and his comrades. He came to me seeking asylum, and I can assure you, if I'd had any ounce of doubt regarding the man's regret at having joined the Dark Side, I wouldn't have let him set foot in this castle."
Callie took all that in, but she still wasn't reassured. After all, the man had let Quirrell in four years ago, and he'd turned out to be an attempted murderer.
"But," she said after a moment, "Karkaroff... Headmaster Karkaroff... seems to think Snape's still... loyal to You Know Who."
"Does he, now," Dumbledore said. "Well, I imagine Headmaster Karkaroff isn't as repentant as Professor Snape, having only turned traitor once he was apprehended and threatened with quite a lengthy prison sentence."
Callie still wasn't convinced.
"Miss Warbeck," the elderly man went on, "you have my absolute word that your head of house is no danger to you or anyone. I would trust Severus Snape with my life, and I'm quite confident in my belief that you could, as well."
Callie thought about it for a moment. Dumbledore waited patiently while she came to her own conclusions. Finally she said, "All right, sir. I trust you." After a pause, she added. "Therefore... by extension... I suppose I trust Professor Snape, too."
"Very well," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I do hope you'll keep Professor Snape's past to yourself, however. I wouldn't want to see it get out and cause a stir, much like I regretted the exposure of Professors Lupin and Hagrid's personal business."
How ironic that she held the power to take Snape down just as he'd done to Lupin. But truthfully, she knew she'd never wield that power. Not only because it was best not to fuck with Snape, but also because, well... somehow she didn't care to see him ousted too.
"Right, sir," she said. "His secret's safe with me."
"Thank you, Callie."
She stood up to leave, but then remembered something else. "Sir?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Professor Snape and Karkaroff were talking about... You Know Who... and they seemed to be under the impression that he's... due to return soon."
Dumbledore studied her a moment, his expression calm, not a hint of alarm or worry. Then, all he said was, "Right, dear. Thank you for informing me."
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He knows that I know. That was all she could think the following Friday in Potions. She wasn't exactly as stone-faced as he always was. All throughout class, she was shaky and nervous every time he passed by her. She kept sneaking glances, surveying him as though she were waiting for devil horns to appear on his head. He caught her once or twice before she could avert her eyes.
At one point near the end of class, he passed by her table and a jar of bats' eyes suddenly slid off and crashed to the ground. "Longbottom's rubbing off on you, Warbeck," he said. "When did you suddenly become so clumsy?"
"I-" she stammered in bewilderment. "I didn't-"
"Clean that up," he ordered. "I'll see you for detention after class."
Jesus Christ. Breaking a jar wouldn't have been a punishable offense even at the height of their hostility towards one another. Suddenly the thought of being alone with him was terrifying.
But twenty minutes later she was in his office. Rather than setting her to dusting or transcribing texts, he poured a shot of Ogden's Old and slid it across his desk towards her. She simply eyed it, holding her hands behind her back.
"'Fraid it's poisoned?" he asked, cocking a brow.
She met his gaze and they stared at each other a moment. There was a sort of challenge in his eyes. Calling his bluff, she picked up the glass and downed it in one shot. "Did Dumbledore tell you I know?" she asked. "Or did you figure it out for yourself?"
"Don't be so conceited, Warbeck," he replied. "I have more important matters to concern myself with than what's going on in that empty head of yours."
"Right, sir. Dumbledore made me promise to keep your secrets. I'd assumed he would keep mine." Why had the headmaster told him she knew and made her a target of... whatever he was planning to do.
Sipping from his own glass, he said, "I suppose it came as quite a shock, to learn that a worthless, deplorable, slimy bastard such as myself had belonged to the Dark Lord's inner circle." He paused. "And just when you were beginning to appreciate me a bit."
She bit her lip, then took a seat before replying, "Yes, sir, I was. What a shame." Suddenly feeling rather bold, she grabbed the Firewhisky and took a drink right from the bottle.
"Hmph." He smirked. "Fair to say you may have even started to like me a little?"
She scrunched up her face at the burning sensation of the liquor. "Maybe," she said, not meeting his eye.
"All to find out the only member of Slytherin house you ever managed to connect with was a filthy Death Eater." He paused again, then said, "Disenchanted with me, are you, love?"
"I was never enchanted," she quipped. They sat in silence for a while, before she asked, "Why did you do it, sir? Why did you join him?"
He hesitated, sighing, and said, "Why does anyone do anything? Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Killing muggles?"
He took another sip, looking thoughtful, then said, "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you that I never aimed a wand on a muggle."
"Why not?" she asked.
He pondered it. "What would be the purpose?" he replied. "They're weak. Powerless. No need to expend the time or energy."
She scoffed, shaking her head, but after a long moment she said, quietly, "Don't tell anyone I said this, but... you're right, sir, muggles are weak. No, not weak," she corrected, "vulnerable."
He didn't respond right away, but simply stared at her. She stared right back, knowing he was in her head, and oddly thankful that she didn't have to express her thoughts verbally. Finally, he said, "Bloody hell, you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. You seem to forget you're the child, and she's the parent."
"The muggle parent," Callie corrected. After a moment, she said, "My dad told me once, the only thing he regretted about marrying a muggle was that... she was going to die so many years before him." The average life span of a wizard or witch was far greater than that of a muggle - almost double. "'Never fall for a muggle, if you can help it,' he said."
"Sound advice," Snape replied.
"They die sooner," she went on, "and easier. Sickness, injuries... Things that don't even affect us can kill them." She paused. "And that's without wizard supremacists hunting them down. How am I not supposed to feel... protective? Responsible for her?"
He studied her for a long moment, then said, "Want a good laugh? Dumbledore said you and I were just alike."
"That's not funny, sir, that's insulting."
"Yes, I was quite offended. But we both lost a parent at a young age, you know that already. What you didn't know was that we were also both left with the muggle parent."
She did a double take. "You're-" she began in disbelief. "You're a half-blood?"
"Unfortunately."
She gaped at him. All this time she'd assumed he was just as pure-blooded as all her other Slytherin enemies. He certainly seemed to get on well with them. "A half-blood Death Eater," she mused. "Son of a muggle..." Something that Neville had said to her once came to mind - Everything I learn about you is surprising. "Christ, Professor, you're so..." She trailed off, unable to find the right words.
"Enigmatic?" he offered, but she didn't know the word. "Difficult to figure out?"
"Right. Tell me, how does one go from a little boy listening to Mummy's bedtime stories, to one of You Know Who's loyal followers, to Dumbledore's trusted colleague?"
"Wouldn't you like to know the whole sordid tale," he mused. "As I was saying, Dumbledore seemed to get quite a kick out of the parallels between us, but one thing is different, at least. You feel a sense of responsibility towards your remaining muggle parent. I couldn't have given a damn about mine. My only concern was how I was going to get along on my own, without somebody there to guide me."
"You seem to have figured it out for yourself, sir." Considering his harsh words regarding his father, she could see the hint of Death Eater in him, "not giving a damn" about what he considered to be lesser beings - not even his own blood. "My mum's a good woman," she said. "Intelligent, strong, ferocious when she wants to be. Just like my dad, the only difference being she isn't magical." She paused. "But she's not weak."
"Only vulnerable."
"Yes. And it terrifies me that someone like you could take advantage of that." After a moment, she said, "You Know Who's coming back, isn't he? Karkaroff seemed to think so."
He stared at her a while, the same sort of look on his face that Hermione sometimes got. The look that seemed to say, I can tell you, but should I?
"Like you said," he finally spoke, "she's an intelligent woman. I'm sure she wouldn't choose to stick around if a war on muggles broke out in the UK."
Three years ago, she'd asked her father what would happen if You Know Who ever returned. If something like that were to happen again, he'd said, we'd leave England.
"Right, sir," Callie replied, "she probably wouldn't."
She watched as he downed what was left of his whisky, debating whether or not she was bold enough to ask what she wanted to ask. Before she could make up her mind, he checked his watch and said, "Dinner will be served soon." He rose to his feet, but she remained seated.
"Professor?" she said, and he waited for her to go on. She couldn't meet his eye as she asked, very hesitantly, "Have you ever killed anyone?"
When he didn't respond right away, she braced herself and glanced up at him.
All he said was, "Great Hall, Warbeck. Now."