Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 12
A week before the Christmas holidays, the Headmaster called Hermione, Harry and Ron into his office. He explained, unlike the previous two years, that they would be unable to spend the week-long Christmas break at Grimmauld Place due to the dire circumstances Order members found themselves in as of late.
Hermione had guessed something was happening, and that it was being kept quiet. The Daily Prophet had been suspiciously lax in reporting Death Eater attacks during the past few weeks, after them making headlines of the tragedies earlier in the year. In a grim conversation in Hermione's room one night, Harry had been adamant the attacks were still happening.
Despite his Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore the previous year having been a great success, Harry still had the ability to sense particularly strong bursts of emotion from Voldemort. Hermione had deduced these bursts often coincided with the times Snape was being summoned in the past few weeks, and although she knew he had only been demonstrating his progress with the potion to his former Master, from the little he had told her, it seemed the other Death Eaters present on those nights had been much more... active.
There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he outlined the situation for the three students. Instead of the usual random attacks, Voldemort had begun a new strategy of targeting members of the Order and their families. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the first, and the only, to be reported by the Prophet. Since then, Dumbledore had managed to persuade the newspaper not to report the attacks, and Hermione was stunned and dismayed to hear three Order members had been killed since then. Two of the three had been at home when the attacks occurred, and their families also fell victim to the servants of Voldemort.
The most worrisome thing was how Voldemort knew whom to target. Membership to the Order of the Phoenix was highly secretive, and few people outside the organisation knew it existed, let alone the details of its members.
"Another spy," said Harry, his eyes unreadable as he thought back to the consequences of failing to discover the last spy to infiltrate the Order, Peter Pettigrew.
"It's possible," Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I am at a complete loss as to any other way this information might be escaping. I have complete trust in every single member of my Order and that trust being shaken is something we can ill-afford at this time."
"As a precaution," he continued. "All Order members will be living Grimmauld Place until further notice, with the exception, of course, of those of us residing here at the school."
"What about their families?" Ron asked, no doubt thinking of his own parents in the Order, and his brothers scattered around the country. "Won't the Death Eaters target them instead?"
"We have taken the necessary precautions to protect the relatives of all the Order members," the Headmaster stated. "All that remains to be seen is where the three of you shall spend Christmas. You are, of course, most welcome to stay here, however I imagine you were looking forward to a change of scenery."
Harry and Ron nodded fervently, and even Hermione had to admit the atmosphere in the castle had become somewhat oppressive. With Hogsmeade visits cancelled since the attack the previous year, the students had little opportunity to venture beyond the castle grounds, so this year not a single student had signed up to stay at school over the break.
"Do you know where my Mum and Dad are staying, Professor?" Ron asked. "I know Harry and 'Mione would be welcome at home if-"
Dumbledore was already shaking his head. "Your parents feel it would be safest if you didn't go home this year, Mr Weasley," the Headmaster said gravely. "Arthur is one of the more vocal supporters of good wizard-Muggle relations in the Ministry, and his fears that this may attract unwanted attention are well-founded."
Ron went pale.
"Rest assured, Mr Weasley," the Headmaster continued kindly. "Your parents are well-protected at Grimmauld Place with the rest of the Order. No harm will come to them there."
"We could stay with Fred and George," Ron said, relaxing minutely. "They'd be glad of the extra help in the shop over Christmas… and they might even pay us." His eyes lit up at the notion of spending money.
"That sounds good," Harry said, and then turned to Dumbledore. "Is that acceptable, Sir?"
The Headmaster nodded, his eyes twinkling again. "Certainly. I expect I'll be seeing some new pranks when you return for the new term."
Hermione bit her lip. Christmas with the Weasleys did sound like fun, but she felt bad neglecting her own parents. She hadn't spent Christmas with them for a few years, and once she graduated and went out to live in the wizarding world, she feared the gap that had already grown between them would only become wider.
She cleared her throat. "If it's all right with you, Headmaster," she said. "I think I'd like to spend Christmas with my parents this year."
Dumbledore nodded understandingly, and she turned to her friends. "I'd love to spend Christmas with you both," she said honestly, "but I think I need to go home this year."
Ron looked slightly disappointed, but both he and Harry accepted her decision without question. With the matter settled, the conversation turned back to the Order. Dumbledore was confident they would seek out the spy before long, and in the meantime the best they could do was keep everyone protected and safe in Grimmauld Place.
Surprisingly, it was Ron, not Harry, who disagreed, though he didn't say so in the Headmaster's presence. The three Gryffindors were discussing it later that night, curled up in comfortable armchairs in the corner of Hermione's room, when Ron aired his concerns.
"I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, putting the whole Order together like that in one place."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it," Ron said matter-of-factly. "Whoever is passing on this information to You-Know-Who is obviously privy to what goes on within the Order. If someone staying at Grimmauld Place is the spy, Dumbledore has just as good as handed him a complete list of every member."
Hermione went cold.
"Shit," muttered Harry, then said after a moment, "but Dumbledore said he trusts everyone in the Order. It has to be someone on the outside."
"Does it?" Ron asked sceptically. "Dumbledore trusted Peter Pettigrew, once upon a time."
Harry's face darkened and he said nothing.
"He trusted Quirrell when You-Know-Who was sticking out the back of his head..." Ron continued. "He trusted Moody, even though it was really a Death Eater in disguise… and he trusts Snape, even though he was a Death Eater."
Not again, Hermione thought. Aloud, she said coolly, "Oh, so that's what this is about."
"No, I didn't mean it like that, Hermione," Ron protested. "Just hear me out."
"No," she cut him off angrily. She thought they'd resolved his issue of trust with Snape last time they had argued, but apparently not. "It's your turn to hear me out. I am sick and tired of you trying to blame Professor Snape for everything that goes wrong. Ever since our first year, you've been adamant he was trying to kill Harry, even though we know it's not true. No, he doesn't like Harry. So what? Professor McGonagall doesn't like Draco Malfoy; does that mean she's trying to kill him?"
"That's not what I meant, Hermione," Ron said. "Snape's a Death Ea-"
"He is not a Death Eater!" Hermione yelled.
She took a deep breath, thankful for the silencing charm she'd placed on her door out of habit.
"Ronald Weasley," she said quietly. "If you knew half the things Professor Snape has experienced in his life, the thought that he might not be loyal to the Order would never cross your mind."
Ron sighed. "Look," he said. "I'm obviously going about this the wrong way. I'm not trying to start an argument, I'm not being a prat like last time, and I'm not saying I think Snape is the spy."
Hermione snorted. He could have fooled her.
"I just hope we catch the spy soon, because until then..." he paused and glanced at Harry. "Your Dad trusted Pettigrew, didn't he?"
Harry clenched his jaw and nodded, and finally Hermione saw Ron's point.
He was really just using Snape as an example, and although she wished he wouldn't, he'd made his point clear. They really didn't know who they could trust, because only other time someone had betrayed the Order, it had been the last person imaginable who did it. And perhaps the real traitor was using that to their advantage; generating fear and doubt among the loyal Order members, hampering their efforts to work together to win the war.
"Dumbledore believes in giving people second chances," Harry said, catching Ron's drift himself, "and that makes him vulnerable to anyone who can convince him they're worthy of saving."
"See what I'm saying, Hermione?" Ron implored. "Not that Dumbledore made the wrong decision trusting Snape, but that if he was willing to send a previously loyal Death Eater back to You-Know-Who as a spy, it's possible he gave someone else a chance to redeem themselves... someone he shouldn't have."
"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions," she said contritely. "But for the record, I think Professor Dumbledore would need a very convincing reason to trust someone from the other side. He didn't just take Professor Snape's word when he came to the Headmaster wanting to switch sides."
Both her friends look at her curiously and she shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I can't tell you what I know, but I think I can safely say Professor Dumbledore isn't an old fool to be duped by just any sob story."
They all say quietly, staring into the fire for a few minutes until Harry spoke again.
"Last time someone betrayed the Order they were loyal to Dumbledore first, and then switched sides. Is it possible that has happened again?"
"That's what I was thinking," Hermione murmured. "That way the person wouldn't have to win the Headmaster's trust to infiltrate the Order; they'd already be a member."
"The only problem is," Ron put in, "that means it could be anyone? How do we know who to trust?"
"I think Dumbledore's right," Hermione sighed. "No one can do much more than be careful and keep an eye out for anything strange."
"Constant vigilance," Harry said, with a wry laugh.
The following day was Friday and after her last class Hermione, as usual, took the hidden passage to Snape's lab to continue brewing for the Hospital Wing. Despite the huge list Madam Pomfrey had given her, in the last month she'd worked her way through the majority of the non-perishable potions, leaving her now with the time to help the Potions master with his own work.
His initial warning when she had started using the lab to stay away from his work had been forgotten by both of them, and between her persistence and his discovery of her genuine interest in the subject of potions, she found herself becoming more and more involved in his work.
She'd been surprised and pleased when he had consented to show her the research he'd been working on, and the depth and quality of his work only deepened her respect for him as an academic.
A week ago, Snape had finally discovered the problem ingredient in the antidote to the Cruciatus potion, and luckily the substance had an easily accessible substitute. Now he was just waiting to gather another supply of moonfilly dropping to complete the final mixture.
Hermione went about brewing her own potions in the lab until Snape came in hurriedly just after seven and looked over her shoulder.
"Calming draught," he noted. "That will keep well enough. Cast a stasis spell, Miss Granger. We have more important things to attend to tonight."
She cast the spell, cleaned her workbench and then went into the sitting room. He reappeared through another door, having forgone his usual black cloak for another; still black, but heavy and lined with thick fur. She looked at him questioningly as he handed her a similar garment.
"It's below-freezing outside," he stated, "and warming charms are only so effective."
"Where are we going, sir?" she asked, taking the cloak from him and draping it around her shoulders. It smelled faintly of sandalwood and some other scent she couldn't place. It was very heavy, but the luxurious feel of the fur was more than worth the weight.
"Tonight is the third night of the waxing moon," he said, "and our only opportunity for another month to gather the key ingredient for the antidote. As the Dark Lord will now have the completed potion before another month has passed, there is no time to waste."
"You're giving him the real brew so soon?" Hermione asked as she followed him out of his quarters via the main door. He led her along a short corridor and to another door, which opened to reveal the snow-covered grounds leading out to the Forbidden Forest. Only once they were well across the grounds away from the castle did he speak again.
"Dumbledore has decided that feigning failure any longer will put my position with the Death Eaters in jeopardy," he explained. "Therefore, the next time I am summoned, I will be delivering the completed potion."
"When do you expect to be summoned again?" she asked carefully as they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest and started on a narrow path into the trees.
"I don't know," he said shortly, then sighed and added, "Although I don't expect to Dark Lord to allow Christmas to pass without some sort of… celebration."
She shuddered. It wasn't an image of Death Eaters singing carols in Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve that his words brought to mind.
They walked silently for a while, Hermione only breaking the quiet momentarily as she drew her own wand and muttered lumos. The darkness under the canopy of tall trees was absolute and Snape, ahead of her, was shining his own wand on the path ahead, leaving her in shadow.
They had been walking for over half an hour and were deep in the forest when Snape suddenly stopped at the edge of a clearing, lit by a sliver of moonlight peeking through the break in the trees.
"There," he said softly, pointing to the base of a tree. Hermione could see what they had come for; a rather large pile of the droppings, glowing slightly.
"She'll be around here somewhere," he murmured, and then called aloud in language Hermione recognised as Latin, though she didn't understand the words.
"It speaks Latin?" she asked in amazement. Though many of the more man-like magical creatures – centaurs, goblins and giants – spoke human languages, Hermione hadn't considered the moonfilly among their number, likening the creature instead to the unicorn, whose speech was understood by none but its own kind.
"She," the Potions master said, with a reproachful glance at Hermione, "understands the old language. She cannot speak, as such, but she listens, and I can understand her well enough."
Just then, a movement at the far side of the clearing caught Hermione's eye, and a most beautiful creature stepped cautiously out of the trees.
None of the illustrations in books about magical creatures did the animal before them justice. It was much smaller than a unicorn, perhaps three feet high, but with the same body shape and grace. Its coat was a sleek, dark brown, and where the moonlight fell the coat shimmered with a strange luminosity. When the creature moved, the light rippled across its coat in an intoxicating dance. It's mane and tail were also dark, like the coat, but the strands seemed to absorb even more of the lunar light until they fairly glowed.
It reminded Hermione of a documentary she'd seen on television while at home the previous summer; how the lunar planet was a dull and barren place, yet from the Earth, at night, it appeared to be a thing of great beauty.
The creature snuffled and pawed the ground nervously.
"She's not used to others," Snape said softly. "Wait here."
Hermione watched, enamoured, as the creature, upon seeing Snape, whinnied and moved towards him. When close enough, he reached out and stroked her mane and she, leaning into his touch, lifted her head to nuzzle his side gently through the folds of his robes.
A low chuckle rumbled from the Potions master and he reached into his robes, withdrawing a handful of some sort of food. The moonfilly ate the proffered food from his hand as he spoke in a low voice.
Hermione couldn't hear what he was saying, but guessed well enough when the creature looked past him, watching her instead with trepidation in her bright eyes.
Snape beckoned her forward and, taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the clearing to join them.
As she drew near them she hesitated and her step faltered. Snape, watching her, said something to the moonfilly, and the creature came forward, nose outstretched to sniff her hand. The nose was soft and warm, and the creature proceeded to circle her, sniffing gently.
Hermione stood still, unsure of what to do, when the creature snorted loudly, startling her, and gambolled away across the clearing.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked Snape, who looked vaguely amused as he shook his head.
"No, she's merely disappointed you didn't have any treats to offer her, as I did."
"Oh."
"Now," Snape said briskly. "Let's gather what we came for."
The moonfilly had returned to Snape's side, and he petted her mane lightly with one hand while withdrawing a wad of canvas from a pocket of his robes with the other. Hermione recognised the canvas as the same material he'd unwrapped the droppings from to show her a month ago.
The moonfilly obviously recognised his intent, too, because upon seeing the material, the creature trotted over to the pile of droppings, waiting expectantly for them to follow.
They both knelt near the pile and Snape showed Hermione how to collect the valuable substance without it being tainted by dirt or human touch. The moonfilly stood by, watching, as Hermione carefully wrapped the dropping in extra layers of canvas.
Snape said something to the creature then, which resulted in her head-butting him not-so-gently in the side again.
"What did you say?" Hermione asked, both amused and bewildered by the camaraderie the two unlikely beings seemed to share.
"I told her not to look so pleased with herself," he said, smirking. "It's not as though she had any choice but to be rid of it."
This time Hermione was the one to snort as she tried to hold back her laughter. She still wasn't used to hearing the Potions master speak so frankly, and having discovered his dry sense of humour, she found Potions class quite difficult. She constantly had to remind herself not to laugh when he directed a carefully veiled but completely justifiable insult at one of her fellow students.
Her outburst, however, seemed to startle the creature quite badly and it whinnied in fear, ducking behind Snape for protection.
"I'm sorry-" Hermione started to say softly, but Snape held up his hand, speaking again to the creature. Hermione listened intently to the low, rumbling voice of her teacher, but couldn't understand more than the odd word. After some minutes the moonfilly, looking slightly sheepish, if that was possible, came out from behind Snape and snuffled his hand, performing the same gesture to Hermione before turning with a swish of her tail and disappearing into the darkness beyond the clearing.
"What was that about?" Hermione said.
"That was her way of saying goodbye," Snape said, after a pause adding, "she's a strange creature, but a useful ally to have, particularly now." He held up the carefully wrapped package of dropping.
"What did you say to her after I startled her?" Hermione asked after a while as they were walking back to the castle. "You were talking for ages."
"I merely told her you were my friend and would do her no harm."
"Friend?" Hermione looked back at her teacher, counting on the semi-darkness to obscure the hopeful expression on her face.
"Loosely translated," he said, looking down at her, the darkness making his own expression unreadable. "She doesn't understand the entire Latin language. By telling her you were my friend, she understood that you would not harm her." He paused. "I also asked her should you ever come seeking her gifts without my presence, she would provide them for you."
"Oh."
They walked without speaking for a time, only their footsteps and the rustling of small, unseen creatures nearby breaking the silence.
"You know, sir," she said conversationally as the trees began to thin out near the edge of the Forest, "you should have taught Care of Magical Creatures. You were really brilliant with her."
"Trying to put Professor Hagrid out of a job?" he commented snidely.
Hermione hesitated. Snape knew she wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures as a NEWT subject, and although she was great friends with the half-giant teacher, and his knowledge and love of magical creatures was extensive… sometimes his lessons were a little too wild.
"No," she said, "but if you ever wanted a change from teaching Potions, I'm sure-"
"I doubt I'd have much success," he said abruptly, walking beside her now as he pointed to his left arm. "Many magical creatures are driven away from Dark magic just as surely as moonfillies are attracted to it. Half of the creatures in the NEWT curriculum wouldn't come near me."
He increased his pace to walk past her and she knew from the finality of his tone the conversation was over. It annoyed her that their pleasant discussions always seemed to turn and end on a sour note. It was as though he couldn't allow himself to be happy for any significant amount of time.
The mask always slid back into place; woe betide if anyone else saw the real Severus Snape. Hermione had been seeing more and more of him as time went by, and it scared her a little how much she was beginning to like the hidden side of her teacher.
Back in the castle, Snape's mood seemed to worsen by the minute. He taught her to brew the antidote, although they wouldn't know for sure if it worked until it had simmered for thirty-six hours and an opportunity arose to test it. He flatly refused, however, to tell her anything about the ingredients or brewing process of the Cruciatus potion, despite him starting to brew a fresh batch that night. She tried reasoning with him that knowing the ingredients of the original potion would help her better understand the cure.
He turned on her, slamming his wand on the bench between them.
"Do not question my judgement," he hissed angrily. "You are under my supervision and will learn only what I deem suitable for you to know."
Then he turned to the cauldron behind him, resolutely ignoring her.
This was absolutely Professor Snape, not the other person she'd come to know... Severus, as she – possibly unwisely – thought of him to herself.
She had no idea what had caused the sudden eruption of anger. She'd argued with him before, a few weeks prior, when he had refused to show her a potion for detecting Dark magic in the blood on the grounds it was considered borderline Dark magic in itself. In the end, her persistence had won out, with him showing her reluctantly, grumbling half-heartedly about 'pushy Gryffindors'.
She wondered why his reaction this time had been so different?
She knew, after seven years in his class, the best way to placate an angry Professor Snape was to keep her head down and get on with her work. Moving to the other side of the lab, she took her calming draught off stasis and completed the brew. He didn't glance in her direction once, and after cleaning up her workspace, she let herself out quietly, unsure whether she was more angry or upset at the complicated man.
To be continued…
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Some of you are very perceptive and I really value all your comments Chapter 13 is already posted at the On-line Wizarding Library – owl dot tauri dot org
