Chapter Thirteen: Defence Against the Dark Arts

"What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue." -Edmund Burke

The potion was a thick, murky burgundy and had the viscosity of stew. Severus stirred the potion, noting with satisfaction that the white saxifrage had dissolved. He made a few notes on the journal next to his cauldron. He had been developing the potion for fifteen years, ever since an Auror's curse had hit him during the War. The wizard had been killed before Severus could find out what curse he had used. Severus had managed to avoid bleeding to death, but the damage the curse had done to his kidneys had remained, leaving him battling jaundice, hypertension and fatigue.

While Severus had been unable to personally consult with a St. Mungo's Healer on account of his Dark Mark, he had, through discrete inquiries discovered that St. Mungo's would be unable to provide a cure. So Severus had set to work creating one himself. Potions existed that treated some of his existing symptoms, there was an Invigoration Draught and coffee for the fatigue, and Preston's Pressure-reducing Potion to treat his hypertension. But the Invigoration Draught turned him into an insomniac and left him wandering the halls long into the night. While his insomnia may be good for catching students breaking curfew, it did not improve his temperament. Not to mention the fact his kidney function would only further decline, and treatment was very much different than a cure.

On the night of the Dark Lord's return, Severus had done something uncharacteristically rash. In a desperate attempt to convince Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, that the Dark Lord's rebirth was not the delusions of a shell-shocked boy or a demented old wizard he had shown Fudge the Dark Mark seared onto the skin of his left arm. Such tangible evidence had done nothing to sway the fool, however. Dumbledore had been kind enough to perform a Memory Charm on the Minister, lest he decided to call the Aurors once the shock wore off, but Severus's reckless act had an unintended consequence, one that was not entirely without benefit. Poppy Pomfrey had also seen the Dark Mark.

The school matron had seen him grow from a brilliant, if vicious student, into Hogwarts's most hated professor, but after staring at the Mark, and then him with wide eyes befitting an owl, she squared her shoulders, marched up to him and told him that since he was unable to see a Healer at St. Mungo's, he could see her, and would see her first thing tomorrow. While Pomfrey had been unable to correct the damage to his kidneys, it had been the first time he had been able to properly consult with anyone about the issue, and while adolescent jinxes and childhood maladies rather than curses were Pomfrey's expertise, she still had a wealth of knowledge on the anatomy and was able to further illuminate the nature and the extent of the damage with the use of some tricky diagnostic spells.

The cauldron before him contained his most promising attempt yet, as he had learned much from his previous trials. A great difficulty in this particular endeavour was recreating the damage to the test subjects. Minerva had Transfigured pigs for him to use and as she was used to his experimentation, hadn't asked any questions. But at the end of it, he would have to be the potion's first human test subject. With a wave of his wand, the fire under the cauldron was extinguished. The potion was going to have to cool completely before he added the casewort.

Knowing he'd have a long wait, he grabbed his copy of The Daily Prophet and sat down to finish the crossword, located on the back page with the letters to the agony aunt and ads for used brooms and cauldrons. Above the first column of clues was a political cartoon by Henry Kirke. Severus couldn't help but scowl at the caricature of Ahlgrim, whose slight stature was exaggerated to a ridiculous extent. Of course, he couldn't even do a crossword without being confronted with that witch. Though he could hardly take any pleasure in how the newspaper had been raking her over the coals in regards to her announcing her belief that the Dark Lord had returned.

When he and Ahlgrim had interviewed Potter about the Dark Lord's return, Severus had thought Ahlgrim had simply been naïve in trusting Potter at his word. The knowledge she was a Legillimens had changed his perception of her. He wondered who had taught the witch that particular skill. Severus had taught himself the foundations of the Mental Arts when he was still a student at Hogwarts, but he hadn't studied them in earnest until he had made the decision to defect from the Dark Lord. Dumbledore had known Ahlgrim was a Legillimens, but he denied teaching her and refused to reveal who had instructed her.

Except for the fact that the Order's coffers were substantially fuller, the Order meeting had been an utter disaster. The question of what to do with excess funds had been a predicament the Order never had to deal with before. Despite the revelation of Ahlgrim's Legillimency, the members of the Order seemed rather taken with their new benefactor; Moody was her only detractor. Severus himself was unsure what to think of her, and not just because he was loathed to agree with Moody on anything.

His fury when she had glimpsed into his mind had been apoplectic, it was not until after she had left and after the Headmaster had lectured Severus on how 'disappointed' he was and Severus had managed to compose himself that he realised he had been a fool. His immediate concern was that she had glimpsed memories of him during his time as a Death Eater or had gained knowledge that he was Dumbledore's 'inside man.' It was promptly obvious Ahlgrim had learned neither of those things for she hadn't thrown a fit and demanded he be thrown in Azkaban. But then he had flown into a rage and had attempted to Oblviate her; actions that pointed to a man holding a terrible secret. While he was satisfied that one of the memories she had glimpsed had been of him in his common room, he did not think the rest were so benign. He had difficulty believing he would be so fortunate. Which left him to wonder, what memories could she have seen that would have made her decide to lie about their contents, but yet still trust him enough to let herself be alone with him? Severus did not like the answers he had come up with. His attempts to use his newfound knowledge of her past to goad her into revealing what she had seen had failed. Contrary to what he told Ahlgrim, he had not seen her naked in the bath. He had felt it was a sufficiently safe bet to guess she had read in the bath at least once in her life and figured it would be the most efficient way to discombobulate and humiliate her.

But at the very least, Severus could be confident that it would not happen again. Ahlgrim could not attempt to use Legillimency on him without being detected and rebuffed and Severus, though an accomplished Legillimens, could not avoid detection either if he attempted to peer into her mind. The heightened defences of a practitioner of the Mental Arts prevented unobtrusive Legillimency and it was for this reason people believed that a Legillimens would always know if the mind he was glimpsing belonged to a Legillimens or Occlumens. However, that was not precisely accurate. If an Occlumen lowered his defences completely and did not resist a Legillimen's probing, it was quite possible for the Occlumen to keep his ability hidden, as long as he offered up memories for the Legillimen, which was how Severus had managed to remain a spy. The Dark Lord was an accomplished Legillimens and if He thought that He could not read the mind of one of His servants, He would have that individual killed. One did not keep secrets from the Dark Lord. Or at least, no one but Severus.

He would have felt less angry about the whole affair if he had actually glimpsed anything of note in his foray into her memories, but he had learned nothing useful or scandalous. He frowned, the memories he had glimpsed in Ahlgrim's mind flooding back. Ahlgrim had been a small child, sprawled across a bed in a large room covered with Quidditch posters and filled with every toy a child could want. Her brother was haphazardly throwing robes and books into a trunk while she clutched a toy dragon and insisting her brother write her every single day while he was at Hogwarts.

Then he had seen Ahlgrim as an adult, only a dissimilar hairstyle differentiating her from the witch he had seen at the Order meeting. She was lounging in bed, propped up by a plethora of pillows as she scribbled on a thick scroll. Her reading glasses were perched on her nose and a soft bobbing light hovered nearby. Every so often she would halt in her writing and stroke the back of the sleeping man who lay next to her, a wizard with brown, curly hair who was unknown to Severus.

That memory faded and was replaced by a teenage Ahlgrim wandering the streets of what appeared to be Soir Trimestre, Paris's counterpart to Diagon Alley, she bypassed a store displaying cauldrons in its window and entered a pub. The crowd was beyond raucous; a witch was dancing by the hearth and a group of drunken wizards were singing boisterously. Ahlgrim asked a barmaid a question in French, but was ignored, or perhaps she simply couldn't be heard over the clamour.

A witch disengaged herself from a table in the corner and rushed over to her. 'Hailey!' And then she was babbling in French.

Whatever the witch said seemed lost on Ahlgrim, who furrowed her eyebrows. 'What?'

The witch took a deep breath and said, in heavily accented English, 'The one that is called Voldemuerte... He is dead! He is no more!'

Ahlgrim stilled. Her face shifted through a multitude of expressions before it settled on a strange, sort of lopsided smile as if her lips had broken. Then the smile vanished and she pushed past her friend and elbowed her way through the crowd to a back entrance and into the cool, autumn night.

The Dark Lord had been defeated, but in some ways, it made little difference. Severus could see the moment Ahlgrim recognised that fact. The moment she realised the dead were still lost, the destroyed homes were not magically rebuilt, the injured were not made whole. That His defeat had only prevented further destruction, it had done nothing to repair the lives of those who were already destroyed. And so, while a distant country celebrated the downfall of an evil they had barely known, Ahlgrim sat on the back steps of the pub and burst into tears.

Severus had known the instant the Dark Lord had been defeated. The Dark Mark on his arm had seared with a fire unlike anything Severus had ever experienced. The pain was worse than the Cruciatus Curse; he had not thought the pain would drive him into madness, he had known it would. At least, those would have been his thoughts had he been capable of comprehending anything but the burning pain. When thin tendrils of smoke began to rise from his arm, Severus surrendered to the pain and the blackness. When Severus had awoken, it was an eternity before he could bring himself to look at his arm, convinced that he would see nothing but blackened ash. Eventually, the fear built itself to such a degree that he had to look, had to see. The fear of not knowing had eclipsed the fear of what he would see, so he looked. His left arm was not charred or scared, only the faint, white outline of the Dark Mark remained. Then the rest of his thoughts returned and he remembered Lily. Severus had stumbled to his feet, left the castle and Apparated to Godric's Hollow. As soon as he arrived in Godric's Hollow, he had known she was dead.

Severus scowled, disgusted at how maudlin his thoughts had turned. Throwing down his newspaper, he glanced about his quarters, seeking something else to occupy his attention. There were no papers to mark, lessons to plan or detentions to supervise, but there was a project he had been working on, other than the potion in the cauldron. It had been a month since Black had cast the Cruciatus Curse, but Severus had certainly not forgiven or forgotten what Black had done. Thoughts of retribution had to be placed on hold for a time, but Black was beginning to regain his old swagger and no longer fled the room when Severus arrived. Black no longer feared reprisal, which made it precisely the perfect time to strike.

There was a saying that 'Revenge is a dish best served cold,' but Severus disagreed. If a dog misbehaved, one didn't wait a year to mete out punishment, by then the dog would have no idea why it was being punished. Optimally, revenge should be swift, but Severus wasn't spiteful enough to think revenge should take precedent over Order activities. If Severus had any maxims concerning revenge it was Cesarino Adessi's words from the dark wizard's infamous treatise The Warlock, 'To take revenge half-heartedly is to court disaster. Strike for the heart, or do not strike at all.' Severus did not agree with Adessi's decision to murder three dozen witches and wizards, but he had to admit the Italian had some great advice in managing interpersonal relationships.

In his spare moments, he had considered several avenues for revenge but had dismissed them out of hand. Anything too subtle would not leave the necessary impression on Black, and a direct approach would only escalate the situation; the last thing Severus wanted was to get Dumbledore or Lupin involved. Severus stilled for a minute, then smirked. If he played his cards right, both Black and Lupin would be miserable for weeks if not months and he could ensure that Black would never dare cross paths with him again. It would not be as satisfying as simply cursing the man, but while hexes faded and curses only left small marks, what Severus planned for Black could possibly tear the last thread that kept Black anchored to sanity. And all Severus had to do was tell the truth. Lupin would do the rest. How novel. At the next Order meeting, he and Lupin would have to have a little chat.

Severus stood and moved to his workbench. While Severus had his own private laboratory located near his classroom, he preferred to work in his converted kitchenette unless the ingredients he was using were volatile. The workspace in his quarters was smaller than his laboratory, but Severus found he preferred to have all of his books nearby, to be able to check on the potions in the middle of the night and to have a space free of-

Knock, knock, knock.

-interruptions. Severus moved to the door and grabbed the Looking Glass hanging next to the door. The Looking Glass let him see through the sphere to the other one of the pair, which in this case was the small beads of glass for the eyes of the dragon on the tapestry that covered his door. Through the Looking Glass, he could see Lupin, idly playing with a stray thread at the cuff of his jumper. Severus frowned. As fortuitous as Lupin's timing was, Severus couldn't help but wonder what reason the werewolf could possibly have to see him. In fact, how did he even know where his quarters were? The only ones who knew that information were Albus, Minerva, Poppy and the Slytherin prefects.

Severus swung open his door with a scowl. 'What is it, Lupin?' he asked, his voice sharp. 'I am in the middle of some exceedingly delicate brewing.'

'Good evening, Severus,' Lupin said, ignoring his ire. 'Mind if I come in for a moment?'

'You may wish to consult your Lunascope,' he drawled, stepping aside to allow Lupin entrance to his quarters, 'the full moon isn't for another nine days.'

Lupin softly shut the door behind him, though Severus could tell Lupin was tempted to peer around at the cluttered bookshelf and nose around his quarters, the werewolf determinedly met his eyes. 'That is not the reason I am here. Though I deeply appreciate you brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for me, I know it's a difficult and time-consuming-'

Severus rolled his eyes and waved a hand as he moved back to his work table. 'Get on with it, Lupin.'

Lupin took a deep breath. 'Albus has hired me to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.' Lupin said the words as if Snape would have found it deeply shocking. Though really Snape had expected it. The Headmaster hadn't exactly been deluged with applications. Not to mention that he would not have passed up the opportunity to have an Order member in the post.

He pulled some casewort out of a jar and began to crush them with his pestle. 'I will need the notes for your lectures on the days you will be... indisposed, meet me in my office after dinner on the nights you are to take your Wolfsbane Potion and this time, try not to go chasing any students across the school grounds.'

There was a slight flush to Lupin's cheeks, but he managed to remain otherwise composed. 'Again, that is not the reason I am here. Look, Severus, I don't want you to think this was an attempt for me to get the better of you. I know you have been hoping to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts for many years-'

Lupin appeared startled, just shy of frightened when Severus burst into laughter. Lupin was in his quarters, contrite and apologetic, acting like he was informing Severus of the death of a beloved aunt. Severus's lips curled upwards, his expression nothing short of gleeful. 'I've been pining for the Defence position for years, you say? Oh, do tell.'

The werewolf hesitated, lost at the unexpected direction the conversation had taken. 'But I thought... every student at Hogwarts knows you want the job!'

'Exactly,' he snapped. 'Every student at this school is privy to knowledge that should, by all accounts, be between myself and the Headmaster. Think, Lupin,' he set down his pestle to regard the werewolf. 'How do you think such a rumour was started in the first place?'

Lupin's forehead furrowed in consternation. 'But why would you start such a tale? Why pretend to be after a job you don't want?'

Severus scoffed. 'Really, Lupin? I thought the answer would be obvious.'

'You're right,' Lupin said slowly, 'it does make sense. You began your tenure during the War, Voldemort would have wanted you to teach Defence, He would have relished the opportunity to have you subtly instruct the children in the Dark Arts right under Dumbledore's nose. He needed to know you had tried to obtain the position. And I suppose, at a certain point the rumour just stuck.'

The plant Severus was crushing had become nothing more than a green paste. 'You neglect half the picture. Dumbledore's 'refusal' to hire me gives me evidence to present to the Dark Lord that he does not trust me fully. Last month Dumbledore and I staged an argument over the matter.'

Lupin chuckled. 'You should have joined the Hogwarts Drama Club. I suppose you would have to allow Voldemort to view some memories to keep him from discovering you are an Occlumens,' Lupin said, sobering. 'And if you don't have any memories to show you are being a loyal spy you would have to manufacture them.'

He arched an eyebrow in surprise at Lupin's astute reasoning. 'At the Order meeting, you were unsurprised to learn of my abilities in the Mental Arts.'

The werewolf shrugged. 'I had known for many years. I knew Voldemort is an accomplished Legillimens, so the only possible way for your duplicity to remain secret is for you to be a stronger Occlumens.'

Severus frowned. Lupin was fearlessly meeting his eyes now, the same, he realised, as the werewolf always had. If Lupin had known Severus's aptitude in the Mental Arts he had done nothing to guard his mind against it. He regarded the werewolf suspiciously. Lupin did seem oddly familiar with the terminology... 'I suppose you found the techniques to clear your mind beneficial to make the transformations less... disagreeable?' he speculated.

Lupin nodded. 'I did. James wanted me to learn Legillimency, he thought we could have some fantastic fun with that, but I did not need to read other's minds to learn what they thought of me,' his expression darkened. 'They usually made it quite clear.'

'And yet Black did not know I'm an Occlumens.' Severus said, remembering Black's gobsmacked expression at the Order meeting. It had almost made Ahlgrim's intrusion into his mind worthwhile.

'That was intentional on my part.' Lupin took a slow breath, knowing he was treading in dangerous territory 'Severus, I don't blame you for not believing me. Merlin knows my actions in the past were disgraceful. But I do not wish to antagonise Sirius.' He grinned ruefully. 'You will be pleased to know Sirius was quite terrified at the thought you can read his mind.'

Severus said nothing and the silence lengthened, growing into something uncomfortable. Lupin cast his eyes about the room, seeking for something to say. It was Severus who broke the silence. 'The Patronus Charm, you were the one who taught it to Potter, correct?'

He nodded. 'Yes, I thought it would help Harry-'

'Perhaps you should teach it to the other students.' Severus braced his arms against his worktable and stared at the kitchen wall. 'I think the time has passed for teaching the students about grindylows and kappas, that is not the knowledge they need to know. It will not prepare them for the world they will face.'

Lupin hung his head. 'I know.' He then shuffled his feet and cast a glance to the door, then to the map of England above the mantle. 'How is your godson, Draco doing?'

Severus scoffed and with a flick of his wand opened the door. 'The fact that you are attempting to make small talk means you have nothing more of importance to say. I trust you can find your way to the door?' Of all of Lupin's traits that Severus found aggravating, his relentless cheeriness was perhaps the worst.

The werewolf was unperturbed at his abrupt dismissal. 'If you say so, Severus. Have a good evening now. I shall see you at the next Order meeting.'

Severus let Lupin make it just shy of the door before he called out, 'Lupin?'

He looked over his shoulder. 'Yes?'

'What do you think of Ahlgrim?'

Lupin stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets. When he looked over his shoulder at Severus, his expression was guarded. 'Good reputation in the Ministry, seems to have a good head on her shoulders, certainly going to be voting for her as Minister, you butted heads with her-'

'Which I do with everyone-'

'Which you do with everyone,' Lupin agreed. 'And-'

Severus crossed his arms. 'And she's a Wizengamot Elder. Which means she has the power to call for an inquest into the charges against Black.'

Lupin closed the door and crossed back into the room to stand in front of the hearth. His eyes shifted uncomfortably, knowing that he was almost certainly walking into a trap, but too damn polite to end it prematurely by simply walking out the door. 'The possibility did occur to me,' he said slowly.

'There will be obstacles,' Severus said, his voice deceptively light. 'A lack of evidence, a lack of witnesses- Pettigrew won't appear before the Wizengamot just because he is summoned- not to mention Black's less than model behaviour since his escape from Azkaban.'

Lupin gazed into the fire. He had no argument for the first two points, so he seized upon the third. 'Yes, Sirius did break into a home to use their Floo and he filched a wand from some inebriated wizard, but after being in Azkaban for thirteen years, those are small matters that I believe the Wizengamot will overlook.'

Severus arched an eyebrow. 'Is that what you believe?' He moved to stand in front of Lupin and crossed his arms over his chest. "A small matter?' That's what you would call Black casting the Cruciatus Curse on me last month?'

Severus had expected outrage, disbelief and anger following his pronouncement, a lengthy argument before Lupin would accept the truth, what he had not expected was for Lupin's eyes to widen in shock that swiftly transformed into resignation. Lupin was hearing of Black's indiscretion for the first time and yet it did not surprise him. Lupin's hands clenched into fists, which he shoved into the pockets of his threadbare robes, the same way he buried his anger in his ongoing attempt to distance himself from the vicious beast he turned into once a month.

'Oh? Did Black not tell you?' He asked with mocked concern, 'I suppose with all the moping and the drinking one forgets such things…' Severus was going to add more, but Lupin was already storming toward the door.

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass phials on the mantle and Severus smirked to himself. Some said the best revenge was living well, but Severus disagreed. Revenge first, then one could live well. It was unheard of for Lupin to lose his temper, to let his anger get the best of him, but through his blunt machinations that particular beast had been set upon Sirius Black. And afterwards, Lupin would doubtlessly drown in guilt for having treated his sole surviving friend in such a way.

Silence descended upon his quarters once more. Remembering the werewolf's enquiries after his godson caused his eyes to stray to the books resting on the chair next to the fireplace. For Draco's birthday, he had purchased a copy of Confronting the Faceless, A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions, and Magick Most Evile.

Draco was, in all respects, a selfish brat. Everything he could possibly wish for had been given to him freely. He was a bully, and though he had the potential to make good marks in his classes, he was plagued with laziness. He excelled in Potions and had a natural aptitude for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Severus had little hope of reforming his godson's character but had felt a small comfort in the knowledge that the worst sort Draco could grow up to be was a philander with too much time and money and not enough sense. But now that the Dark Lord had returned, Draco's future had become much darker.

He had wished to subtly direct Draco away from his father's path, but Lucius simply had too strong of a hold on the boy and Severus could not betray his true loyalties, even to save his godson's life. He never had the opportunity. Until he had seen Draco hiding in the bushes after he had Apparated to the Manor with Lucius. His attempts to direct the conversation had been heavy-handed, but it was not the time for Slytherin subtly. Draco needed to hear and to see what it was actually like to be Death Eater, to have another source than his father's bowdlerised stories. And Severus had dared to hope that he might have opened Draco's eyes and gave him second thoughts.

However, in return, Severus had been forced to paint himself as an enemy. He had lost his godson's confidence and now had to play the part of the villain. Severus could not offer Draco any counsel. The boy would have to find his way on his own.