58. The Headmaster

"Explain this again," Susanna said, as Callie tattooed a heart onto the woman's wrist.

"The ink's got my blood in it," she replied. "It's charmed. If anything happens to me-" If I die "-the tattoo will disappear." Sort of like the way the Dark Mark faded after You Know Who's defeat, she thought sardonically.

It had taken a hell of a lot of convincing - nay, threatening - but her mother had finally agreed to leave Britain and take refuge in the States. "How am I going to know if you're all right?" she had asked.

Updates by letter were out of the question; if they were intercepted, then Susanna's location would be revealed. And no one, not even Neville, was going to know exactly where she was. I could be dead for months before she'd find out. She'd read about the tattoo spell the previous year, when she'd decided to get her dad's initials on her arm.

Presently, Susanna shook her head to herself and said, "Good Christ, Callie, this is..."

"Morbid, I know. But at least you won't have to wonder how I am. Whenever you want, just look down at your wrist. I put it right above your pulse. If this heart is beating, then so is mine. Cute, eh?"

The woman glared at her. "How can you joke about this?" she asked.

Callie sighed and explained, "Look, I don't really expect to be killed. But I don't want you to drive yourself mad worrying about me every day. Don't sit there waiting for this thing to vanish. Instead, look at it and know that I'm all right."

"That's very half-full of you," Susanna remarked. "When did you become so optimistic?"

With a shrug, she said, "It's my birthday. I'm in a good mood." Her mother had made one request - she'd wanted to remain in the country at least long enough to see Callie turn seventeen. All right, the girl had thought. The Trace will be broken then, so I can Imperius her if I need to.

Two days later, she accompanied her mum to the airport. When her boarding time was announced and the woman didn't move, Callie leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I'll still do it. Even with all these muggles around."

"I'm going," Susanna replied shortly. "But I'm waiting for the final call. I don't want to waste a single minute that could be spent with my daughter."

Callie took her hand and muttered, "So sentimental."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Susanna said, "Come with me."

"You know I can't."

"Why can't you?"

They'd been over this so many times in the last two years. She was tired of explaining herself. "Fight or flight," she replied. "I'm a fighter."

The woman rolled her eyes. "So God damn stubborn."

"I prefer the term 'committed.'"

When it was finally time for her to depart, Susanna pulled the girl into a tight embrace. "Don't say goodbye," she reminded. "We promised we wouldn't do that."

"All right," Callie replied. "I'll see you soon, then." But as she stood at the gate and watched the plane take off, she wondered exactly when - and if - she would see her mother again.

Five weeks later, on the night before she and Neville were to return to Hogwarts, he said, "You could call her." The two of them were soaking in the bathtub together, savoring the last few hours they had to be alone.

"I know," Callie replied tiredly. "But I think it would be better to let her alone. Put some distance between us, ya know? Detach."

He had looked so guilty ever since her mum's departure, and more than once he'd reminded her that she was free to join the woman in the States. "It's not too late," he said presently. "You can still go."

"Stop with that. You know I'm not going anywhere." She knew that he was just as concerned for her safety as she was for her mum's, but she couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it. Unlike the muggle woman, she could protect herself. I'm not a damsel in distress, she had said. And hadn't she proven that during the battle?

Sighing to himself, Neville said, "Ya know, pretty soon it's not just going to be muggles and muggle-borns. You Know Who's goal is a pureblood society, which means that at some point, he's going to go after half-bloods too."

She shot him a look and said, "Bloody hell. Are you trying to scare me or something?"

"I'm only telling it like it is, Cal. The muggle-borns are already being hunted down and locked up." His expression became greatly troubled. "No one's heard from Dean in weeks."

Callie's face fell as she thought about their muggle-born friend. According to Seamus, he'd decided to go on the run after the Ministry fell, and muggle-born persecution had begun in earnest. Nobody knew where he was headed, or if he had made it there safely.

Hesitantly, Callie asked, "Do you think he's...?" Dead?

Miserably, Neville replied, "I don't wanna think about it. But he had to run." After a pause, he went on, "I just wonder, if it came to that... would you be willing to run, too?"

She pondered the question. For the time being, her blood status kept her relatively safe. But what if they did start persecuting half-bloods like they had muggle-borns? Many of them had already been captured and locked away in Azkaban. Would she one day find herself in the same situation, behind bars?

But she wasn't going to think about that now. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Changing the subject entirely, she said, "I had another nightmare. Maybe the worst one yet." She had never been one to have such terrifying dreams, but they'd become a frequent occurrence ever since the battle. There had been a few occasions in which she'd been moaning and thrashing around in her sleep, and woken up to Neville shaking her, pulling her out of the horror.

"Last night?" he asked, and she nodded. "You were quiet. I didn't know, I would've woken you," he said sympathetically. "What happened?"

With a sigh, she explained, "It was the battle again. I was in the corridor, and Mum was there." She paused, looking unsettled at the memory of the night vision. "And Dad. I always love it when I see him in dreams, but..." she shook her head "...not this time."

"Why not?"

She was quiet for a moment, a far-off look in her eye, before she said, "He wasn't on our side. He turned his wand on Mum, and I was shouting, No, Daddy, don't! Not Mummy!" The image was so clear in her mind, the fear that had taken over as she'd watched from the side still lingering within her. "I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything to stop him. And then he cursed her. Avada Kedavra."

"Bloody hell," Neville exclaimed.

"Definitely the worst."

Thankfully, she managed to get through the last night of break without having to suffer through any unsettling images. But that was only a small favor, as she was reminded the next morning that reality was so much worse.

"Son of a holy, God forsaken bitch!" Mrs. Longbottom screamed out from the kitchen. Callie and Neville had been staying with her ever since Susanna had left Britain. The two ran to the elderly woman as she stared down at that morning's Daily Prophet.

"What's going on?" Neville asked in a panicky tone.

"Here's what's going on!" she said, shoving the paper into her grandson's hands. He and Callie read over the headline.

Severus Snape Confirmed as Hogwarts Headmaster

"No," Neville breathed, a horrified expression coming over him. Shaking his head, he said, "This can't be true. It can't be."

Mrs. Longbottom was enraged. "That bastard murders Dumbledore," she shouted, "and now he's taking over the man's position?!"

"He- It- He-" Neville stammered. "How could this happen?"

"With the Ministry in You Know Who's hands," she replied, "anything's possible!"

Callie wasn't listening to either one of them. Instead, she was staring down at the man's picture below the headline. It was the first time she had seen his face since the night of the battle - when he had still been good. All summer long she'd been imaging what it would be like when she saw him again - if she ever saw him again. She desperately wanted to meet the real Severus Snape, the traitor. The murderer. The man who had lured her in, made her trust him and respect him - and like him - and then pulled the rug out from under her, leaving her shattered. She wanted him to face her, to look her in the eye and tell her everything between them had been a lie, that it had all meant nothing.

And apparently, that moment was going to come a lot sooner than she'd been expecting. She would see him tonight.

As Neville and Gran continued to discuss the situation, she clapped a hand over her mouth, ran to the sink, and threw up.

"Good Heavens!" Gran exclaimed.

Neville was behind her in seconds, holding her hair back. When it was all out, he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said, wiping her mouth. "Never better." He rubbed her back as she cleaned up the mess.

"Take this," Gran ordered, handing her a thick, pink potion.

Callie took a swig and then held her head in her hand. "Bloody hell," she breathed. "Snape as headmaster. God help us."

Pacing the room, Neville said, "I don't like this. Christ, Cal, maybe... maybe we shouldn't go back."

She looked at him in disbelief, then stammered, "W- We can't not go back. That'd be just as bad as running!"

"Well, maybe we should run," he argued. "I thought it would be all right, that it'd be safe at Hogwarts. McGonagall running things, everyone else around to protect the castle..." He paused, running a hand through his hair anxiously. "But with Snape at the helm, and the Ministry backing him? He'll be free to do whatever he wants."

"Do you think he's going to try anything?" Callie asked. "I don't."

He simply gaped at her a moment, then said in a quiet voice, "Tell me you don't still trust him."

"Of course not," she replied. "But look at what the papers have been saying. They're trying to implicate Harry in Dumbledore's death. As far as most people know, Snape had nothing to do with it. He's playing innocent, even now. He's not going to do anything to draw suspicion to himself."

But Gran argued, "He's a sneak. You're exactly right, he's managed to get away with killing Dumbledore. He knows how to cover up a murder. If anything, he might just be emboldened to try it again. No one will be safe at Hogwarts, not the teachers or the students."

"Yes," Callie agreed. Then to Neville, "But... you're going to let that scare you away?"

"If not that," he said, "then what?"

"You've never been afraid to stand up against a Death Eater."

"Not in a battle, but this is something else entirely. Having him lurk around the castle every day, watching us. Sleeping under the same roof as the man. That doesn't terrify you? And he saw us at the battle - you, me, Ginny, Ron. What if he tries to retaliate?"

"I don't think so," she replied. "He's got more important things to concern himself with than the four of us. He doesn't see us as a threat, I'm sure."

"He doesn't need to feel threatened to hurt us, he's a maniac!"

"No, he's not. Maniacs are careless, undisciplined. Snape's deliberate. He would need a reason to attack someone. Believe me, I know how he thinks."

"But... you don't really. You only know what he led you to believe. Everything was a lie with him, Cal."

Christ, he was right. Two months later and she was still struggling to shake off the impression of her Snape. Even now, she couldn't fathom the idea that he'd ever physically hurt her. But your Snape is dead and gone, she had to remind herself. You don't know what this version is capable of.

It didn't matter though; she wasn't going to hide. "You can run if you want to," she said. "But I won't."

"I don't want to," Neville replied. "I just... have this feeling like we're about to walk into our own deaths."

She wanted to argue, but had to stop herself. Dead and gone... you don't know what he's capable of. "Wait," she said, a realization coming to her. "It's not only going to be us and Snape. McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout... we haven't heard anything about them resigning." She turned to Gran and asked, "What was that it said about staff changes?"

Going over the paper, the woman replied, "Some bloke named Amycus Carrow is going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. His sister, Alecto, will be taking over Muggle Studies."

Muggle Studies. Callie had taken that class for three years with Professor Burbage, who'd been reported missing a few weeks ago. The girl had been praying that she was all right, that she was simply on the run like Dean. Callie knew that she wasn't a muggle-born, but she was pro-muggle. A blood traitor. Would they go after her for that?

Shaking the thought away, she said, "Well, with all the other teachers still around, maybe it won't be so bad. They know what he did to Dumbledore, and they're not going to let him hurt anyone else. Hell, Hagrid alone could tear him apart." She paused. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he's run out of the castle before the night's over."

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Harry, Hermione, and Red weren't on the train when she and Neville boarded. When they met up with Ginny and Luna, the former explained that they had taken off on a secret mission from Dumbledore, and that they hadn't been allowed to tell anyone what that involved.

"And how are we supposed to know if they're all right?" Callie asked.

"If Harry was dead, I'm sure You Know Who would let the whole world know," Ginny replied bitterly.

With a sigh, Callie said, "This is what I hate most. Not knowing what all is going on."

"Me too," Ginny said. She and Harry had finally admitted their feelings for each other the previous year, but their romance had been cut short, what with his "secret mission."

Callie shot her a sympathetic look. The old waiting game, she thought. Nothing to do but sit and wonder if the person you loved was ever coming back to you. Almost unconsciously, she took Neville's hand in hers.

The door to their compartment slid open, and a hard-faced man with a clipboard looked at Callie and said, "Name?"

Furrowing her brow, she asked, "Who are you?"

"None of your business," the man replied shortly. "Who are you?"

She simply stared at him, wondering what the hell this was all about.

"Oi," he said, snapping his fingers at her. "Are ya deaf? That's twice now I've asked for your name."

She hesitated, then thought, Fuck it. "Callie Warbeck," she replied, a strong hint of attitude in her tone.

"Status?" he asked.

"Human."

"Blood status."

Again, she hesitated, and Neville answered for her. "Pureblood," he said.

"No - half-blood," she corrected. It would've been easy enough to find out anyway.

The man threw Neville a cross look, then asked, "Parentage?"

Rolling her eyes, Callie replied, "My father was David Warbeck, a pureblood wizard. He graduated from Hogwarts in 1970. He worked for Gringotts Bank until his death in '95. Satisfied?"

He jotted all that down. "Mother?"

There was only the briefest moment of hesitation before she replied, "That's not important. She was a muggle, we no longer speak." Oh, the best kind of lie - one that was technically the truth. Luckily, he didn't pry, but moved on to the others.

When they arrived to the castle and walked into the Great Hall, Callie noted that it only contained about three-quarters of the usual student body. "No muggle-borns," she mused, lingering at the Gryffindor table and wondering whether or not she ought to sit at her own.

"McGonagall said you could stay in Gryffindor Tower," Neville reminded.

"Yes, but that was before," she countered, looking up at the head table. Snape was nowhere to be seen, but she knew he was around somewhere. "I always sit at Slytherin during the start-of-term feast. If he sees me over here, maybe he'll take that as an act of defiance."

"So?" Ginny said. "Par for the course for you, isn't it?"

"Again, that was before." To Neville, she said, "I'm going over there. I don't wanna draw attention to myself."

"You're coming back with us after the feast though, right?" he asked.

"Let's just take it one step at a time." She made her way across the hall and took a seat beside Astoria.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" the girl remarked in a bitter tone. "Snape as headmaster, after what he did?"

Callie was a bit surprised. "You believe it, then?" she asked. "That he-" she lowered her voice "-killed Dumbledore?"

Astoria raised her brows and said, "You don't?"

"Oh, I know he did. It's just that most people are skeptical."

Scoffing, the fifth-year replied, "Well, most people are sheep. You know the Prophet is trying to make it seem like Potter was responsible for Dumbledore's death?"

"That's what I gather," Callie replied.

Rolling her eyes, Astoria went on, "What a load of dung. Daphne and my parents actually think it could be true, the gits. But I told them Harry was Dumbledore's golden boy. What reason would he possibly have to off the man?"

Callie smiled to herself. She would always be grateful to have at least one ally in Slytherin House. A comrade, she thought. She'd have fit in with the D.A.

The crowd grew quiet as McGonagall led the first years in for the sorting ceremony. As with the upperclassmen, the number of new students was noticeably smaller than in previous years, and Callie wondered if the eleven-year-old muggle-borns had been kept home by their parents, or if they'd been captured and were currently in Azkaban. Muggle-born students didn't simply receive their acceptance letters by owl; someone from the school - McGonagall, for instance - had to meet with them in person to explain everything. Surely, the woman would have warned parents of what was going on in the magical world, and advised them against sending their children to Hogwarts.

Callie waited anxiously for Snape to make an appearance, but he remained missing in action throughout the sorting. She was seriously beginning to wonder if the other teachers hadn't gotten together and chased him off the grounds, until a man and a woman who she didn't recognize marched into the hall, and the former called out, "Silence, everyone!"

The entire room fell quiet as the unfamiliar pair stood before the head table with their hands behind their backs and their heads held high. A moment later, tension filled the air as the new headmaster swept in and stood between them, looking out over the student body.

Callie's heart skipped a beat as she stared at him. Christ, there he is. Severus God damn Snape, the one and only.

"Good evening," he said in that signature silky voice of his. "I welcome you all to another year at Hogwarts. As most of you know, we suffered a tragic loss this past June. Albus Dumbledore, the long-standing headmaster of this school, was met with an untimely death."

She was stunned - along with many others, it seemed. A tragic loss? Was he joking?

No. He's playing innocent, she thought.

"There have been contradictory accounts of how Professor Dumbledore's life came to an end," he went on. "It has been rumored that the man was ruthlessly slaughtered, brought down by a Killing Curse upon the Astronomy Tower. Perhaps you've heard it told that I myself cast the fatal spell. This, I assure you, is a vicious fabrication, concocted by a deeply troubled young man who has declared himself 'the Chosen One.' I am speaking, of course, of Harry Potter."

You son of a bitch. So this was how he was going to try and save his own skin. She glanced over all the other teachers to gauge their reactions. Surely none of them would believe this bullshit?

No, not a one of them. Though nobody spoke up, they all looked absolutely livid. McGonagall in particular appeared to be struggling not to stand up and hex him.

"Professor Dumbledore's death was thoroughly investigated by Ministry officials. Several witnesses stated that Mr. Potter was seen atop the Astronomy Tower with the former headmaster at the time he met his end. To date, Mr. Potter has not come forward to present his account of what occurred that night, and his whereabouts are currently unknown. These are the facts of the situation. They are indisputable. It can therefore be assumed that Harry Potter is a great threat to society, and I implore anyone who may have information regarding the boy's movements to come forward.

"Meanwhile," he continued, "we shall not let these unfortunate events of the past two months interfere with the traditions and the values upon which Hogwarts was founded. You will carry on in your quest for a magical education, building upon your skills and knowledge regarding our most fundamental subjects. And you will conduct yourselves with the utmost propriety and respectability expected of a young wizard or witch.

"On that note, allow me to introduce Deputy Headmaster Amycus Carrow-" he indicated the man to his right "-who will be taking over my previous position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Deputy Headmistress Alecto Carrow-" the woman to his left "-will be teaching Muggle Studies. In addition to their teaching posts, they will also be responsible for any and all disciplinary actions."

Callie noticed that McGonagall was eyeing the Carrow siblings with almost as much hate in her expression as she'd shown for Snape. Who are these people? the girl wondered. They had to be Death Eaters, but the look on the Transfiguration teacher's face seemed to display a more personal loathing. What did she know about them?

"As always," Snape went on, "the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students. In addition, security measures around the castle have been increased. The school has, once again, employed the Dementors of Azkaban Prison to patrol the grounds. No one is to venture out without a teacher as a chaperone.

"In conclusion, I advise you all to uphold the standards of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There has been great change within our world in recent years. However, we must strive to preserve and defend those values that define our magical race. We must not bow down to those who seek to undermine the integrity of wizardkind. Neither shall we accept without question the claims that have been made regarding Albus Dumbledore's death. For only one person is known to have been with the man when he was struck down, and that person isn't speaking."

He paused, scanning over the crowd who had remained dead silent through all that. Not once had his eyes settled on Callie, who had been thinking the whole time, Look at me!

With a nod, he said, "Good night," and turned to walk out of the hall, Alecto and Amycus Carrow at his heel.

Conversation gradually broke out around the room, and Astoria asked, "What the bloody hell was that?"

Callie was dumbfounded. "He sounded like a God damn politician," she mused. After listening to that complete rubbish, and seeing that unrecognizable deadened look in his eyes, there was no doubt in her mind - her Snape really was gone.

She glanced back at McGonagall, who was having what looked like an intense - and angry - conversation with Flitwick. Rising to her feet, she went over to the woman and asked, "Professor, do you know those two people, the Carrows?"

"I do," she replied tensely. "And I believe you've had the pleasure as well."

Callie furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't recognize them?" McGonagall asked. "They were two of the Death Eaters at the battle in June. We fought them."

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He wouldn't hurt me. Not physically, at least. Maybe it was completely stupid and naive of her to believe that, but somehow, it was the one and only thing she felt that she could still trust him on.

It was the Carrows she was worried about. Two people they had actually fought during the battle. And they were now in charge of discipline?

Everything had happened so quickly; it had all been so confusing. If she didn't recognize them, maybe they wouldn't recognize her. Or Neville or Ginny.

She really didn't want to draw attention to herself. It had been bad enough when all her rebelliousness had gotten her in hot water with Umbridge in fifth year. And she hadn't been a Death Eater. These people could be capable of anything. It was likely they had killed before.

Just like Snape, a voice in the back of her head spoke up.

She'd followed Neville and the rest of the Gryffindors up to the seventh floor, but broke off from the group, stating that she wanted a moment alone. While wandering around the corridors, it occurred to her where she wanted to go - the Astronomy Tower. The last place Dumbledore had been alive. Maybe if she went up there, she'd be able to sense him. Somehow that would have made her feel a bit better about everything, given her a sense of comfort.

But when she stepped out into the cool night air, looking around the spot where it had all gone down, she only felt his absence more strongly. Looking out over the battlements, she wondered where exactly the Dementors were. It was too dark to make out the shadowy creatures, but that feeling of dread they brought with them seemed to permeate the air.

"Warbeck?"

Simultaneously, she jumped out of her skin and whipped around, drawing her wand as she did so. But she wasn't quick enough. The wand flew out of her hand and into his.

"Turning your back to potential attackers?" he said. "How disappointing. I thought I had taught you better than that."

She stood gaping at him, eyes wide, heart pounding... and utterly defenseless.

"Hmm," he muttered. "Is that a hint of fear I detect?"

"Professor..." she said, but all thought seemed to have been lost to her. She simply stared at him, and yes, she was afraid. She had never been intimidated by him, but then again, she'd never found herself alone and wandless with a man who had murdered someone - on the very spot that it had happened, no less.

He took a step towards her and asked, "What are you doing out here?"

"I-" she stammered, hating herself for showing fear towards him. Buck up. Don't let him know he's got you rattled. Standing up straighter and setting her jaw, she said, "I wanted to see where it happened."

He pointed to a spot a few feet to her right and said, "Right about there."

She looked over where the former headmaster had taken his last breath, then back to him. "So it's true, then?" she asked. "You really did it."

He cocked a brow at her. "Bloody hell. Had you really doubted Potter's account of that night?"

Her own words echoed in her mind. Harry, listen to me, I know Snape... and I know he would never, ever...

But she kept quiet, bowing her head in shame for having questioned her friend.

"Hmph," he smirked. "I pity you, Warbeck. So easily influenced, you are."

She glared at him, the fear diminishing and anger slowly taking over. Anger and a good amount of sorrow. "Why did you do it?" she asked. Did it even matter? Yes. She wanted to know how he could have betrayed everyone.

Betrayed her.

Stepping closer, he said, "Consider it a means to an end. He was in the way. The Dark Lord is not going to be stopped, his power is too great. The so-called Light Side is crumbling. It won't be long before Dumbledore's forces are obliterated."

"No thanks to you," she said with a scowl.

Smirking, he asked, "Hadn't you once inquired about my sense of self-preservation? I wasn't going to align myself with the losing team." He paused, looking her up and down. "And I think it would be wise to consider where you'd like to be standing at the end of all this."

She furrowed her brow and said, "Meaning...?"

"Meaning..." he came to stand before her "...the Dark Lord is quite good to those who are loyal to him."

"Ugh," she groaned in disgust. "You're mad if you believe that I would ever..." She trailed off, shaking her head to herself.

"Am I? I've always thought you'd make an excellent Death Eater. After all, you do have many of the qualities he values. Intelligence, cunning, a thirst for power... an appreciation of the Dark Arts." He took her hand and ran his fingers over the inside of her left forearm. "The Mark would look good on you," he said.

She jerked her hand out of his grasp, and a wicked grin curled his lip as he went on. "I even know of a certain werewolf bloke you might be interested in."

Greyback. She gaped at him in horror.

"The Dark Lord can offer you more than the Order can. Protection. Not only for yourself, but for your dear mother."

"Don't you speak of my mother," she warned. "Besides, she's a lowly muggle. You expect me to believe that he would spare her?"

"Every rule has its exceptions. As I said, he can be rather merciful, with a bit of convincing."

She studied him a moment, before replying, "And are you one of those exceptions, Professor? How much convincing did it take for the Dark Lord to accept the Half-Blood Prince into his ranks?"

He seemed to be caught off guard by the fact that she knew about that little moniker. Keeping her eyes set on his, she thought, Oh, yes. Harry told me.

But why was she testing him? They were alone out here and she was wandless and nobody knew where she was. Maybe she did have some kind of death wish.

But he simply smirked and said, "So vicious, as always. Good to know that some things never change." He got right up in her face and whispered, "Though I suggest you watch yourself around the Carrows. They may not be quite so entertained by that sharp tongue of yours." He then stepped back and indicated the door. "Now get to the dungeons," he ordered, "and don't ever let me catch you wandering around after hours again."