66. The Interrogation
"The muggle female," Daphne read, "is a most conniving being. She will make use of the only weapon at her disposal - her ability to seduce the more impressionable of our magical brothers."
Callie's roommates had gathered in the dormitory to work on their latest Muggle Studies essay. The half-blood, meanwhile, was lying on her bed trying to block out the bullshit that Carrow was trying to impress upon them.
Daphne went on, "She is something of a succubus, taking in the wizard's seed in an attempt to absorb his magical powers." She looked up from the text and her face twisted up into a sickened expression. "This is disgusting," she said.
Millicent snatched up the book and continued, "The primary objective is conception, so that the mother may soak up the magic inherited by the fetus from the wizard father."
"Eh," Tracey called out, looking over at Callie, "Can your mum do magic?"
The half-blood scowled at her and asked in a derisive tone, "What do you think?"
"It would make sense," the girl replied defensively. "Pregnant women exchange nutrients and such with the fetus. Why couldn't magic be transferred between them?"
With a sigh, Callie rose up from her bed and said, "You know nothing about magic or biology. I'm getting out of here." She couldn't listen to this any longer. With a sad glance at Bela's empty cage, she left her roommates to their muggle succubus essays and made her way out.
In the corridor, she passed by her dungeon and was overcome with bitterness, as once again, she found herself unable to to go into it. Crabbe and Goyle had ruined it for her. For years it had been her special place to seek solace and work on her potions, and now she couldn't set foot in it without being reminded of what they'd done.
Where am I supposed to go now? she thought, suddenly feeling very lost. She still hadn't made up her mind when she arrived on the ground floor, but ended up drifting in the direction of the greenhouses, despite the fact that there was a good chance she'd find Neville there.
Things between them had only gotten worse in recent weeks, especially when she'd started isolating herself after Bela's death. It had gotten to the point where she was counting up the number of days they would go without saying one word to each other. The current record was five. Eventually he'd stopped trying to get her to talk to him, and that had left her with an odd mix of guilt and relief.
She now found him in Greenhouse 2, alone and tending to something mossy and fanged. His back was to her, and for a moment she simply watched him work, wondering how the hell things had gotten so screwed up. Six months ago they'd been talking marriage, and now she could hardly stand to be around him.
It's all the secrets. First the Carrows' torture and now Crabbe and Goyle's attack. She didn't want him to know about any of it, and the idea of going on as though everything were all right felt so wrong. They'd never kept anything from each other, and her inability to be honest and open with him made her feel like their entire relationship had been tarnished.
This God forsaken war had ruined every aspect of her life. Perhaps they should've just cut their losses and ran.
"Hey," she called out, turning his attention to her.
There was hope in his eyes upon seeing her; it had been ages since she'd approached him. A soft smile curled his lip as he replied, "Hey," but then an awkward silence fell between them. "So..." he said after a moment, "how are you?"
"Not good. But what else is new?"
He didn't seem to know how to respond to that at first, but then he crossed the greenhouse and plucked a white flower from a pot. "Jasmine," he said, holding it out to her. "Supposed to be uplifting, right?"
"Hmph." She took the flower and twirled it between her fingers. "How do you remain uplifted through all this?"
"Well-" he shrugged "-I try to keep in mind that we'll be out of here in June. All of us are looking to join the Order after graduation. We've been practicing like hell with curses and defensive spells."
"And stealing swords out of Snape's office?" she said with a cocked brow.
Though he looked a bit sheepish, he explained, "Harry needs it. Ginny's sure that Dumbledore left it to him because it has to do with defeating You Know Who."
Callie sighed. As she took a seat on the floor, she replied, "Then maybe he should come here and get it himself. He has a knack for coming out on top, I'm sure he would've managed it without getting caught." She only realized after she'd said it that it probably sounded like a slight again Neville, but she hadn't meant it that way. "I'm sorry," she said, noting that he did have a rather shameful look on his face. "I didn't mean to..."
"Imply that we failed miserably?" he offered. "You wouldn't be wrong."
Looking pensive, she said, "Then again, maybe some of Harry's luck rubbed off on you three. I was amazed that Snape didn't Cruciate you all."
He joined her on the floor, sitting close beside her as he said, "I was expecting Azkaban. You know, thievery and all. Even if the Ministry was still legit, that would've been a good three- to five-year sentence."
"And yet you took that risk?"
"We had to," he argued. "For Harry."
Callie scoffed and said, "We don't even know where Harry is or what he's doing. For all we know, he finally cracked after years of this shit and decided to have done with it."
"You really think he'd do that?" Neville asked, clearly not buying it.
Meeting his eye, she said, "There's only so much a person can take. Eventually it becomes too much."
He studied her a moment, then said, "It was too much for you, right? That's why you left the D.A.?" Now she was the one who was shame-faced, looking away from him. In a soft voice, he said, "I know something happened. You don't have to tell me, but I know."
"Nothing happened," she insisted, not meeting his eye. Though he didn't argue, she knew that he wasn't convinced, and that he probably never would be. But at least he didn't pry this time.
They were quiet for a minute or so, until he said, "You blame me, don't you? That's why you won't talk to me."
With a furrowed brow, she asked, "Blame you for what?"
"For not doing more to keep the others quiet."
"No," she replied honestly.
"But you did before. You said I should've told them to keep their mouths shut."
Yes, she remembered that now. But she argued, "They wouldn't have listened to you. Gryffindors don't play by anyone's rules but their own."
"Then why have you been ignoring me?" he asked. "Why won't you come near me anymore?"
What was she supposed to say? That dating a member of the D.A. would make her guilty by association, and she didn't want to give the Carrows or anyone else any reason to hurt her again? Or that lying and keeping secrets from him made her feel so dirty that she could barely look at him? Or that she hated the self-serving coward she'd become, and there was a part of her that felt she didn't deserve him anymore?
"Tell me the truth," he said in a quiet voice, unable to meet her eye. "Do you still love me?"
Christ, this was another reason why she'd been avoiding him. With no other explanation to provide, she just knew he would assume something like that. And seeing the heartbroken look on his face was unbearable. "Yes, I do," she replied. "That's the one thing that hasn't changed."
But if the expression on his face was any indication, he still had his doubts. Show him, she told herself. Actions speak louder than words. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, for the first time in what felt like forever. Despite everything, she still missed him. Her heart ached for what they used to have, and she longed for the days when everything had been so easy - no secrets, no distance, no feelings of unease when they were together. Throwing caution to the wind, she straddled his lap right there in the greenhouse. It was still early enough that somebody could walk in and catch them, but she was just so tired of playing safe, feeling as though she were under surveillance and had to be constantly looking over her shoulder. She wanted a break from all that.
However, the longer they went on, the more her heart sped up, and not for the reason it should have. All she could think about was what had happened in her dungeon, and the memory of Crabbe touching her in the most intimate of places was making her shake. Neville was running his hands all over her, and while she ordinarily would've enjoyed that, there was now the very discomforting feeling that she was being violated.
"Stop," she ordered, rising to her feet and moving away from him.
He blinked at her in confusion as he stood up. "Wh- What's the matter?" he asked.
"I can't..." she began, but didn't know how to go on.
Taking a cautious step towards her, he said, "Cal?"
"I'm sorry. I just... I'm sorry." She bolted out of the greenhouse and back to the dungeons. But she didn't want to be around any of her housemates. There was that lost feeling again, as she literally had nowhere to go. Lingering in the corridor, an idea came, and she made her way to Snape's old office. He didn't use it anymore, and it had been cleaned up and left vacant since the night Dumbledore died. Nobody ever went in there now.
Being that she had destroyed all his stuff the previous year, the room was quite bare, though all the furniture remained. She took a seat behind the desk and held her head in her hands. God damn you, Snape, she thought. Everything that had gone so horrifically wrong in her life was because of him.
And yet, she still couldn't stop thinking about what he had done after Crabbe and Goyle's attack. The two didn't seem to have any memory of what they'd done, and they hadn't bothered her since that night. Just as Pansy hadn't come within arm's length of her after the beating in fifth year.
There was little doubt in Callie's mind that Snape had Imperiused the girl, just as he'd done to Crabbe and Goyle. And lately she'd found herself wondering about how the Carrows hadn't laid a hand or turned a wand on her either. Not since Dungeon Twelve.
He wouldn't have, she told herself. But he'd done it to Crabbe and Goyle, and almost certainly Pansy. Might he have also Imperiused his deputy headmaster and headmistress after they'd tortured her?
There were two voices going back and forth in her head. One was telling her that he was evil, that he was a proud servant of the Dark Lord, that he had murdered Dumbledore in cold blood. But the other couldn't get past the fact that he was still protecting her, even now.
He left you in that dungeon for hours, the more cynical voice reminded.
Yes - but he had gotten the Carrows away from her. And possibly Imperiused them? He truly was the most two-sided person she had ever known. "Enigmatic?" he had said in fourth year. "Difficult to figure out?" To say the absolute least.
She still couldn't believe how soft he had gone on Neville, Ginny, and Luna when they'd tried to steal the sword. Neville, of all people. She'd seen Snape go harder on him for mucking up a potion. He should've been jumping at the chance to deliver him to the Carrows for punishment, or to torture the boy himself. Sending them to Hagrid instead had been, dare she say, kind.
Stop it, the cynic scolded. Stop trying to find some semblance of morality within him. You'll only be disappointed. So he hadn't sent three teenagers to be Cruciated or beaten or whatever else the Carrows might have come up with. He'd murdered someone. He was second-in-command to the most vile Dark Wizard of their time. That should've been more than enough for her to stop obsessing over every half-way decent thing he'd ever done.
But she'd been playing every interaction she'd had with him over and over in her head, and so many things didn't sit right. Looking back on the night he fixed her face after Pansy beat her up, she could remember him saying that if the Ministry fell to the Dark Lord, then Hogwarts would follow. The thing that was giving her pause was the frantic way in which he'd told her that, literally shaking her as he'd explained how bad the situation was becoming. He hadn't exactly seemed excited about it; he had almost looked scared.
Just as he'd been during their last conversation before Dumbledore's death. Hell, he had even admitted to her that he was afraid, and that he'd "never wanted this." What was it he had never wanted?
To kill Dumbledore, she thought. What else would he have been referring to? But he'd also said that he didn't regret it. Jesus bloody Christ, it was as though he had a split personality. Both his actions and his words were so contradictory. Unless...
Don't go there, the cynic warned, but she couldn't help herself. Though there wasn't a shred of doubt that he really had killed Dumbledore, the idea that he hadn't done so willingly kept creeping into her mind. It's wishful thinking, she told herself. You just can't accept the fact that he isn't what you thought he was.
But he was scared that night. Just like Malfoy had been scared when he'd been tasked with killing Dumbledore. The boy hadn't wanted to do it, but the Dark Lord had threatened him. Could he have also threatened Snape? Or could he have Imperiused Snape? Malfoy had Imperiused Madam Rosmerta in his attempts to kill Dumbledore. Perhaps the Dark Lord had had the same idea. Or maybe he'd had no choice but to kill Dumbledore, in order to maintain his cover in front of the other Death Eaters who'd been watching.
Or maybe aliens killed Dumbledore, the cynical voice mocked. Quit being stupid and face the facts. She really was grasping at straws. She had even considered the idea that it hadn't been Snape at all, but another Alastor Moody-Barty Crouch, Jr. imposter situation. You're out of your damn mind. Maybe all those Torture Curses did mess you up a bit.
But the truth was that nothing made sense. Some of the things he had said and done in the past were completely at odds with who he was now. And even his recent actions didn't gel with the idea of a cruel, cold-hearted Death Eater. The Carrows would've stood back and let Crabbe and Goyle do whatever they wanted with Callie, and they also would've taken great pleasure in torturing Neville, Ginny, and Luna for the sword incident.
Snape is nothing like them, she thought. He wasn't even on the same level as Crabbe and Goyle, who'd been thrilled to practice the Cruciatus Curse on the D.A. in class. Their headmaster, on the other hand, didn't seem quite so willing to have anyone harmed. Not if Imperiusing her housemates and letting the trio get away with breaking into his office were any indication.
He had always been a complete mystery to her, and now more than ever she was dying to know what the hell was going on inside his head.
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Why am I doing this? she asked herself on the last night before Christmas break. It was absolutely insane to put herself in this situation, but she had never been one to sit around and not do anything. With a sigh, she knocked on his door, fully expecting him to slam it in her face.
"Didn't I tell you not to go wandering around after hours?" he greeted with a scowl.
In a despondent tone, she replied, "What can I say? I've missed our late night chats." She couldn't hold his gaze as he stared down at her, but she asked, "May I come in, sir?"
He hesitated for quite a long time, but eventually stepped back and allowed her to enter. "What are you doing here?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.
She looked around the room and then turned to face him. "You don't sleep in the headmaster's quarters?"
He gave her a quizzical look and said, "Tell me you didn't come here at one o'clock in the morning to discuss my sleeping arrangements."
With a shrug, she replied, "Just curious."
Again, he was hesitant, but explained, "These have been my quarters for sixteen years, I'm accustomed to them. Now tell me what this is all about."
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes fell upon the sofa where they'd had their last talk, and where she'd given him that bittersweet kiss that he had no memory of. How would he react if I told him? she wondered briefly, but pushed the thought away. That wasn't what she had come here for. "I wanted to ask about the Sword of Gryffindor," she said.
He took in a deep breath before he replied, "Oh, did you now? There appears to be quite a lot of interest in the object, as of late."
"So I've been told. I was wondering why you went so easy on Neville and Ginny and Luna when they tried to steal it."
He seemed to be caught off guard with the direction she had taken this, and there was a pause before he said, "I'm sorry?"
"I thought the Carrows were supposed to be in charge of discipline," she explained. "But you sent them to Hagrid instead. Why?"
He cocked a brow and asked, "Would you have preferred they receive the same treatment that you were given? Because I can arrange that the next time they attempt to pull one of their little stunts."
Interesting, she thought. He had downplayed the Carrows' treatment of her, referring to it simply as "a few hits with the Cruciatus Curse." But apparently that would've been too much for Neville and the others. "You told me once that you're not a complete monster," she reminded him. "That's true, isn't it? You don't care to see anyone tortured." As if to emphasize that assumption, she rubbed her inner arm where the brand had been. The implication wasn't lost on him.
"You were right," she went on, approaching him. "I don't know you as well as I thought I did. But I do know that you're not nearly as sadistic as the Carrows are."
In a tone that suggested she was wrong about that, he asked, "Is that so?"
"Yes, it is," she asserted. And then she paused, lowering her eyes from his in a sort of shameful manner. "Which is why I came to you. I don't want them to find out what the D.A. is planning."
His eyes narrowed. "What are you on about?" he asked.
She hesitated, sighing to herself before she explained, "They're going to stage a revolt tomorrow. Instead of getting on the train and going home, their plan is to hide out in the castle, wait until everyone else is gone, and then attack."
He didn't respond right away, but simply gaped at her as though he couldn't believe what she'd just said. After a moment, he asked, "Who told you this?"
"Neville," she replied, her bottom lip trembling. "I know they're not going to win a fight with you and the Carrows, and I want you to step in and shut this down before they end up getting tortured or beaten or killed." There was desperation in her voice as she pleaded with him. "Please God, Severus, don't hurt them like the Carrows would. You were good enough to spare them when they tried to steal the sword."
"Who's involved?" he demanded. "Longbottom, Weasley, Lovegood - who else?" He kept his expression composed, as always, but there was anger - and perhaps a bit of worry - in his eyes.
"All of them," Callie replied. "I think they've got about twenty people now, from all three houses. They gathered in the Room of Requirement tonight, that's where they're going to hide until... until the battle." He turned to leave, but she grabbed him by the arm to stop him. "Please," she begged. "Please don't let the Carrows know about this. You know they're crazy, there's no telling what they might do." He looked back at her, and she filled her mind with all the memories of Dungeon Twelve. "You don't want anyone to get hurt," she whispered.
He studied her a moment, then continued on out into the corridor. When she followed him, he ordered, "Go back to the common room."
"I can't. How are you going to get into the Room of Requirement without me?"
It was a point he couldn't argue. Instead he remarked, "Christ, how you've changed. I was amazed that you'd abandoned ship, but now you're actually informing on them."
"Because they'll all get themselves killed if they try and go after you. I told them when we got the D.A. back together that we oughta lay low. They wouldn't listen to me." In a rather bitter tone, she added, "And I'm the one that paid for it."
"Hmph," he breathed. "You sound a bit resentful. If revenge is what you're after, I'd be glad to let you Cruciate a few of them." She shot him a look, and he said, "Do you really believe that I'm going to let this slide? I showed mercy to Longbottom and the others once. But I do not give second chances."
"What are you going to do?"
He thought about it, and replied, "I've got plenty of knowledge on Dark Magic. I'm sure I can figure something out." When they arrived outside the Room of Requirement, he demanded, "Open it," holding his wand at the ready.
She walked back and forth three times, thinking about what she needed in there, and a door appeared. He pushed her aside and went in, looking around the empty room and asking, "Where are they?"
And then he was knocked unconscious, having been Stunned from behind.
Callie stood with her wand held over his crumpled up form, taking a moment to make sure he was really out. "Never turn your back on an enemy," she muttered, giving him a nudge with her foot. "Incarcerous," she incanted, and his hands and feet were bound with thick black cords. She then sat him up against a wall, tipped his head back, and reached into her robes for her own hand-brewed sample of Veritaserum.
She was tired of trying to figure him out, obsessing over his every action, and hoping against hope that there was something redeemable about him. All of her ideas about him having been Imperiused or threatened or forced to kill Dumbledore had to be put to bed if she was ever going to be able to move on.
This is stupid, the cynical voice in her head called out. You know he's one of them, you know he killed Dumbledore, and after this, you'll be lucky if he doesn't kill you too.
But he would never have to know about it. That's what memory charms were for. She poured the potion down his throat and stood back, sighing to herself. Christ, I have lost it, she thought, before reversing the Stunning Spell and bringing him back into consciousness.
With a groan, he opened his eyes and slowly regained his bearings. "What..." he muttered, looking around in confusion and realizing that his hands were bound behind his back. "What have you done to me?"
"Are you Severus Snape?" she asked, her tone that of a detective interrogating a suspect.
"Yes," he replied automatically, struggling against the cords. "What is this? What did you do?"
She ignored his question. "Did you kill Albus Dumbledore?"
His face twisted into an angry snarl as he desperately try to free himself, but the answer was pulled out of him against his will - "Yes!"
"Were you Imperiused to do so?"
"No. God damn you, Warbeck, get these bloody cords off me!"
"There'd been other Death Eaters on the tower that night. Were you forced to kill Dumbledore to maintain your cover?"
"No!"
Her heart sank. She had felt that was the most plausible of her theories. "Did you kill Dumbledore because the Dark Lord threatened you?"
"No. Warbeck, stop this! It's truth potion, isn't it? How dare you!"
Damn it all to hell, she was out of ideas. She brought a shaky hand up to her face as he screamed at her to let him go. Her thoughts went back to that night in fourth year after her father died, and all she could think was that he wasn't completely heartless. Or at least, he hadn't been. With her head bowed, she asked in a quiet voice, "Do you feel any remorse at all for killing Dumbledore?"
As he continued to struggle, he shouted out, "Yes!"
She raised her head and met his eye. Yes. He said yes. He does regret it.
"For God's sake, Warbeck, I am begging you! Enough!"
But she'd grabbed onto that expression of guilt as though it were a life preserver. Kneeling down in front of him, she asked, "Did you willingly kill Albus Dumbledore?"
"No!"
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because he ordered me to!" His struggle to break free had become even more desperate.
"Against your will, though. You didn't wanna do it, he forced you. Right?" She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "The Dark Lord forced you to kill Dumbledore!"
"No, he didn't!"
"Then what happened?" she shouted.
"Dumbledore ordered me to kill him!"
It was as if all the air had been knocked out of her. Gaping at him, she stammered, "D- Dumbledore... What?"
With a groan, he finally stopped fighting against the cords. "Dumbledore ordered me to kill him." he repeated. "If Draco Malfoy didn't do it, then I was supposed to. But Dumbledore insisted that I step in before he had the chance. He wanted to spare the boy's soul."
Callie's face took on an expression of absolute confusion. "Wh- Why...?" she stuttered. "Why did anybody have to kill him?"
"He was already dying," Snape explained. "He'd been cursed. He only had a few weeks left, and he thought it would reinforce my loyalty to the Dark Lord if I killed him myself."
Once again, she wondered if this were all another dream. She had thought that nothing made sense before, but now...
"You're..." she began, shaking her head to herself. "You're making this up."
"No, I'm not. You know I can't."
"Dumbledore told you to kill him?"
"Yes."
"And he was already dying. From a curse."
"Yes."
All she could do was stare at him, not knowing what to believe. But then her mind drifted to the days after the old man's death, how he had prepared the phoenix pin and the St. Mungo's recommendation for her, and how she had wondered if he'd somehow known that he was going to die.
"Bloody hell," she breathed, then realized she was still holding onto his shoulders and sat back. "So... so you...? You're not...?" It had suddenly become very difficult to speak, and her hands were still trembling. Taking a breath to calm herself, she asked, "Are you loyal to the Dark Lord?"
"No," he said, a defeated look on his face. "I've been acting against him ever since his return."
Her heart was pounding out of her chest. If he was really speaking the truth, then all this time he'd been playing not only the Dark Lord, but...
"Wait," she said. "Who else knows?"
"Nobody."
"McGonagall, Flitwick..."
"No one."
"Harry?"
"Nobody, Warbeck. And no one can know. The Dark Lord would kill me if he found out, and I need to be alive if he's going to be defeated."
She let out a breath and dropped her head into her hands. This is what you wanted, she told herself. To find out that somehow, some way, he wasn't evil. But apparently she'd never really believed it, because the idea that he was completely innocent felt too good to be true. He's smarter and more powerful than you are. Maybe he's found a way to fight off the truth potion and now he's screwing with you. She wished there was something she could do to test him.
The memory of that night in his quarters the previous year, when she'd had those horrifically embarrassing thoughts about him, came to her. He had claimed that it was his doing, that he'd put those ideas in her head to see how easily influenced she could be. But she knew better; those thoughts had been entirely her own.
"The night you tried to teach me how to conjure a Patronus," she said with a sigh, "you knew what was going on in my head. And the next day you said it was Legilimency, that you'd been projecting. Was that true?"
"No," he replied without hesitation. However, he looked away from her as though uncomfortable with this particular question.
"Why did you make that up?" she asked.
"Because I saw you were attracted to me," he said, "and I wanted to put an end to that. To make you believe it was just... an illusion."
She studied him a moment, then scoffed and shook her head. "Everything's a mind game," she muttered, rising to her feet. They were both quiet as she paced the room, her head spinning with everything she'd just found out.
"Callie," he called out, bringing her attention back to him. He looked her dead in the eye as he said, very deliberately, "Nobody can know about this."
She bit her bottom lip and turned her back to him, thinking there was no way in hell he would let her walk around with this information. He's going to Obliviate me, she thought. They really were alike in many ways. "You're right," she said. "Nobody can know." Once again she faced him, aiming her wand.
"Callie!"
"Obliviate!" she incanted, and his face became expressionless. In her head she replayed everything that had just happened, up to when she'd first come knocking on his door. "Forget everything you just told me. Forget that I brought you here. Forget that you ever saw me tonight." When that was done, she put him under the Imperius Curse and ordered, "Go back to your living quarters." With a flick of her wand, she undid the cords, bracing herself for an attack.
But his blank expression remained as he rose up to his feet and walked out of the room, completely mindless. She watched him wander down the corridor, praying that the Memory Charm would work as well as the Imperius Curse had. If he were to ever find out what she'd just done...
"Bloody hell," she whispered, holding her hand against her forehead. When he was gone, she stepped back into the room, shut the door, and sank down to the ground, going over everything he'd told her.
Dumbledore had orchestrated his own death. He had known that he was going to die. Dumbledore knew everything, she thought. All-seeing, all-knowing. Right up to the very end. And she knew that Snape had to have been telling the truth, because even if he'd somehow gotten around that Veritaserum, then he wouldn't have had to say anything, let alone make up a ridiculous story.
It was all a scheme, his allegiance to the Dark Lord. And killing Dumbledore had been a part of that.
He isn't evil, she thought, an overwhelming flood of relief washing over her. No - relief wasn't the word. For six months she'd thought the man she knew was dead and gone, and now it was as though he had suddenly come back to life. Good Christ, she was elated.
Complete, unadulterated joy, his voice echoed in her head. She held her wand out and incanted, "Expecto Patronum!"
No pathetic wisps of silver or shapeless mass. Instead, a fully corporeal fox burst forth and bounded around the room.