Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 3
Severus Snape waited for a while to make sure Phineas had truly departed. Doubting Dilys's sudden arrival and convinced that matters at the Ministry of Magic would definitely keep Albus away for a couple of more hours, he stood close to the painting and ran his long fingers over Ophelia's red strands. After seven lazy strokes, he brought his lips close to the young maiden's ears and whispered,"
Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth
And the truth isn't what you want to see
In the dark it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be."
Ophelia's eye drooped and closed shut and she sank beneath the glassy water surface. Behind the portrait, there was a distinct click sound and the frame swung open on its hinges.
The Painting was one of the few prized possessions of the Potion Master. As a sulking and sniveling first year, the half blood Slytherin had chanced upon Phineas Nigellus Black thesis on Moving Magical Paintings in the Room of Hidden Things during one of his escapades from the Marauders. When he had shown it to Lily, the witch had dragged him around the castle imploring that they should try to understand the moving portraits with a new set of eyes. It was yet another thing that had made the castle grow fond of him.
The next summer break Snape had purposefully made friends with the crazy artist, Homer the Earless, two streets across Snipper's End. Both Lily and he would often sneak into the crazy man's studio, up in the attic going through endless possibilities of fusing magic into muggle paintings. Homer never objected, rather he loved to entertain them with tales of pirates and scandals revolving around dead Kings and Queens, the usual subjects of his painting, lying around the cramped space. Sometime before his mother's death, Snape had realized that Homer was not a legitimate painter. The man was a forger, who took commissions from art thieves to duplicate famous and valuable paintings.
The muggle police had dragged the man through the streets of the locality and had taken him away to the Prison. Peeping among the gossiping crowd, Severus had watched with bored interest as men in tweed suits stood examining the frames brought down by workers from the hidden studio. Ironic as it was, they never found the stolen painting of Ophelia. It was the missing report of that painting that had finally sent Homer and his accomplices behind bars. How could they? Homer was too smart for most of them.
Those nitwits never screened the barren fields overlooking the Cokeworth Mill. No one remembered informing the officials about Earless Homer visiting his Mum's grave thrice a week either. It was rather a miracle no one ever saw Snape and Evans visiting the man. Those two alone knew where the half-mad painter with a bitten-off ear hid his stash in a dried-up sewage tunnel about a quarter of a mile to the left of the Cokeworth Graveyard.
Much to the Museum of British Arts curator's surprise ten years later the picture had reappeared at his office all by itself with a note,
" One-sided love can seldom commit the crime of indulging in charity, thus returning what was stolen though I am neither the thief nor am I the artist. Ophelia and I have to share the same fate that all jilted lovers are doomed to do so, till the end of eternity."
The old, portly man with a balding head had called in for handwriting experts and his own team of art examiners. Together they had studied both the pieces, all in front of a disillusioned Severus Snape hiding in a dark corner, smirking to himself. He had delivered the original back to where it belonged while holding on to the forged piece. Finally, the painting had gone up to its designated place, while the Curator held on to the letter reluctant to show it to the baffled police officials. The note now laminated and framed sits in one of the locked desks of the Office of Museum Curator, with the strange case of the reappearance of Ophelia unsolved to this date.
In his year he was the only one to have discovered the Room of Requirement and have made unlikely friends with the armors who greeted him through their visors and statues that beaconed him to hide behind them in case of approaching danger. Though there were gruesome occasions when the castle had quietly watched him getting humiliated, bullied and taunted. He never sought for an explanation accepting his miserable fate during his troublesome school years in the same fashion he accepted his father's abuse and his mother's subservient presence at home.
The castle had understood the potioneer's mind well enough to make Milias's Ophelia more special. It had magically built up a small vault behind the frame giving Snape a place to hide anything of great value.
During the initial years, he had stuffed it with every memorabilia concerning Lily. Flitwick had gifted him with a small pensive when he had defeated the charms professor in a marathon chess competition, five Christmases later, jesting,"that mind of yours could use some rest." Whether the half goblin knew about his legilimency and occlumency skills was a mystery. He had stored it away questioning the fellow teacher's intentions. Of course, Albus knew about it, but he had simply allowed the Potion Master to borrow his pensive after giving him the arduous task of teaching Potter Occlumency.
Lupin's short letters were stacked beside it, tied together with a gryffindor red ribbon which at one time did belong to Lily. Beside it there was a small notebook, which Snape had promised himself never to touch again. The massive portion of the cavity was of course filled with racks and racks of memories, sealed and dated of events he dared not mention to the world. With Potter coming to Hogwarts, he had gone on adding several similar vials of misty strands of thoughts of remorse, pain and disgust.
Sentimental as he was, he had found it exceptionally hard to tear away his eyes from skinny and small Harry Potter who looked so much like his arrogant father that his heart had twisted at its place in quiet anger. Sitting beside Percy Weasley the boy had finally turned towards the High Table and looked at him clutching his forehead, making Severus forget to breathe for a handful of seconds. Lily's eyes, Harry James Potter was watching him through ocean green eyes with a small frown etched on his thoughtful face. The Slytherin head of the house had sat through the rest of the welcoming feast struggling with his thoughts and emotions, his appetite lost.
He had avoided the boy as much as he could until the first potion class. But couldn't continue ignoring him any longer as Draco was sitting right under his nose watching his reaction to the new celebrity at school. If he knew any better, his godson would definitely write everything that transpired in his class back to his gloating father. Yet he had made a clandestine effort to apologize to the boy diligently noting down every word of his Introductory Potions Speech.
"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" To this day, these words kept ringing in his ears, tormenting him every time the brat had put his own life in peril. Asphodel was another name for Lily which conveyed the Victorian sentiment- 'My regrets follow you to the grave' and wormwood meant 'absence' and also typically symbolized bitter sorrow. Foolish of him to think a horse-faced Petunia would educate her nephew on the language of flowers. But he had tried nevertheless remembering one of Lupin's letters speaking about Harry tending the Dursley's lawns and garden.
Did he choose to show the boy his selected memories of James and Sirius concerning that fateful day? Yes, he did, only not in the way Harry had discovered them.
Potter was a magnet for troubles and Ronald Weasley was the sickenly ever so faithful. Granger alone held on to the invisible reins tied around those to dunderheads saving them over the years. Hermione Jean Granger and her marvelous mental arrangement... Severus had often wondered what her mind would be like and had brushed off that thought with a derisive comment "file cabinet or worse an archive of a boring office with stifling pungent moldy air". How wrong was he…
Picking up the pensive, he wandlessly summoned empty vials from the cupboard half-hidden in the darkness of the dungeon room. Pointing his ebony wand at his temple he drew out several gossamer strands of white mist and dropped them one by one inside the swirling cloudy liquid of the black basin. Gently placing his wand on the table, next to the pensive, he touched the swirling surface with his fingertips and sighed waiting for the avalanche of memories to sweep him off his feet.
"Please, Sir, the werewolf differs from a true wolf…"The gryffindor witch gulped when she noticed the fury dancing in his obsidian eyes. In seconds, he had bellowed, "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, FIVE POINTS...for being an INSUFFERABLE-KNOW-IT-ALL!" Crack, Severus had sensed how hard his words had hammered at her confidence. Her red face, her slowly dropping hand and her bowed head- Granger had fought not to cry openly but her tears had pinched his heaving heart hard enough.
In a nearly empty Gryffindor common room, flanked by Potter and Weasley, Granger was fighting hard to divide her attention between her friends and her homework. In front of her spread over three tables were books of every subject taught at Hogwarts. Amongst them, her multi-coloured timetable was peeping out. The sight had baffled him, the girl opted for all subjects and the answer to his raising question was just a word, "Mudblood." When he had asked how she even appeared for all those classes, the image of her thirteen-year-old self, tucking her time turner before entering his potion class at the dungeon with a pounding headache, flashed by.
Alienated by friends because she stuck to the righteous path, Granger was pouring through old legal cases to put together a defense speech for Hagrid's hippogriff. Her figuring out about Lupin halfway through the homework he had assigned for the class, with lunar charts still laying askew over her parchment. He didn't miss the soft murmur," Oh, Oh, Professor Snape knows...which means even Dumbledore knows because he has appointed Professor Lupin...all the staff knows. Though Professor Lupin is kind and caring, funny, and interesting but is it possible for him to remember all that after he transforms into a werewolf?" Her flipping through old years books and chancing upon James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter's moving images in the Gryffindor house pictures, which made her think about how did Sirius escape Azkaban, and whether Lupin had a hand in it.
He could feel the dawn of loneliness and the pang of jealousy and a bit of anxiety as he recalled the image of Granger eavesdropping into Potter and Weasley's conversation about the former's DADA private tutions and their trip to Hogsmeade. Every night without fail, the Gryffindor common room witnessed her tucked in a corner, nearly buried, behind Arithmancy charts, runes dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects….extensive files of notes and observations...
The surface of the misty liquid swirled and revealed yet another scenario. Hermione was moving past a group of gossiping girls who were pointing at her and whispering," she's finally lost it! After her cat killed Weasley's pathetic rat, and McGonagall confiscating Potter's firebolt, the two are not talking to her. Instead of weeping and crying and apologizing, Granger is doing piles and piles of homework and snapping at anyone who dares to interrupt! What a shame!"
Next, he came across Weasley glaring at the witch. His hateful words still echoed in his ears, "So now, you were trying to get Harry expelled...haven't you done enough damage this year?!"
The pensive contents misted around him to reveal The memory of Granger sporting dark shadows under her eyes, barely eating a proper meal, and constantly close to tears made Snape sigh deeply as he watched her hurry back into the library after the evening lessons. He recalled the reaction of the staff room when Lupin had shared the brightest witch's most feared boggart. He had jested turning his gleaming eyes to a shocked transfiguration professor," She saw you, Minerva and you were telling her wearing your dreadful scowl," you failed everything, Miss Granger. I am so disappointed with you…"
He had seen through several more events of her third year. Malfoy getting a tight slap, her walking out of the Divination Class calling Trelawney a fraud under her breath. Her sneaking behind the one-eyed witch and coming out with a triumphant smile while tucking a silvery cloak under her robes. For a split second, he had enjoyed that sly smile on her small mischievous face and had chanced upon yet another set of memories, he had looked past previously. The girl was hiding under the stands right below where he was seated. Up in the air, Potter's broom was hell-bent to shake off the boy, while the girl was busy setting Snape's black robes on fire with blue flames she had succeeded in storing in a small glass jar.
A second set of memories got pulled out from the foggy ambiance and he watched in shock the small witch sneaking inside his private potion store while the class was going completely out of control right after the explosion of Goyle's cauldron full of swelling solution. Standing behind the memory Granger, he couldn't believe his eyes, when the girl had robbed him of a quarter jar of bicorn horn and Boomslang skin. In his silky voice, he had murmured to himself, "Served you right! For once I skipped punishing you...those whiskers, pointy ears, cat eyes and that perfect tail was indeed an absolute comic relief."
But then her fear had drenched his mirth. He had just discovered the small party of Lupin, Black, Granger, Potter and a wounded Weasley at the Shrieking Shack. His own distasteful words had pelted splinters into his bare skin," Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school… discovered in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf...FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, HOLD YOUR TONGUE! KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!...he sounded much like a deranged lunatic, "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND."
When Severus was about to defend his own words to himself, Granger's memories had halted him mid way. Her trembling voice had made him bite into his shallow fist, "We attacked a teacher...that would hurt...I just hope he is not dead," she had chanted on and on as Snape saw his own lifeless self sprawled over the canopy bed through the girl's frightened eyes...the memory of his body getting lifted off his feet as the joint expelliarmus hit him square on his chest and slammed him against the wall. With wide eyes, Granger had watched him slide down and had noticed the trickle of blood oozing under his hair.
Finding his feet back, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed. Finally, he gave up pretending and muttered in distaste," And Here I was afraid of seeing your revulsive thoughts about ignoring that after-effect of Draco's Densaugeo hex. Being a teacher and a spy is not an easy job and neither can it be an excuse for my appalling attitude. Miss Granger, over the years, I have stooped lower while you labored on to garner my praise. If my Dark Mark had faded away for good, perhaps, I could have been a different person. When I look at you sitting across the classroom hanging on to my words in rapt attention, brewing potions to perfection, and submitting thought-provoking essays which by themselves depict your deep understanding of the subject, I am tempted to see unlimited possibilities. That single thought alone frightens me."
As he fished out the gossamer strands of memories one by one and dropped them in an empty vial he continued speaking to himself," Miss Granger, you might or might not have heard of Ralph Waldo Emerson. He once said, "The secret in education lies in respecting the student." And there lies my failure in epic proportions. When I first found myself standing in front of a class full of students with no real urge to learn an iota about potions, I was beyond myself. My history as a student was still fresh and rumors about my association with a questionable company still making rounds in the Prophet. Yet I lingered, gritting my teeth, growing into this snarling greasy git that you recognize with. I did try to teach myself to be a teacher, I swear, I went back that summer break and got help books trying to learn the ropes of standing in front of gawking students and lecturing them."
Once done, he walked up to the racks on the cavity of the stone wall and conjured up a fresh set of racks. Placing the new vial gently on the first gap, he went back to retrieve the pensive. He allowed his eyes to linger a bit longer on Lupin's stack of letters determined not to let them hover over the notebook next to it. When unwillingly his fingers danced close to its worn-out surface, he jerked away and closed the frame over it with a loud bang.
Placing his hands at the golden woodwork, he sighed over the floating face of Ophelia and watched her red hair rippling over the surface of the water with streaming eyes. Staring at the woman with half-closed eyes, the potion master whispered in agony," A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops. Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire. They may forget what you said but they will not forget how you made them feel. All students can learn and succeed, but not in the same way and not in the same day. And here I stand as a mockery to the whole institution."
Turning away at length, he summoned a vial of invigoration draught and gulped the potion down in one go. With the Dark Lord returning there were many eyes watching his every move in the castle and reporting back at home to their eager death eater parents. It was rather mandatory to be seen at the Breakfast up in the Great Hall. Rolling his head, massaging his neck, shrugging his shoulders, Severus walked out of the private lab to find Dotty frozen on spot with an empty tumbler in one hand and a rug in another.
As the house elf gulped, Snape shook his head and muttered amused by his own condescending tone, "Do you know Dotty what Mr. Robert Southey once wrote?"
Still holding the two items in her hands the elf flapped her ears and stared up at the young wizard with wide glass eyes unblinkingly. The corner of Snape's lips curled, Surely she thinks I have finally lost it.
Aloud he whispered in the same unnaturally gentle manner," Never let a man imagine that he can pursue a good end by evil means, without sinning against his own soul. The evil effect on himself is certain."
When he finally stepped out of his quarters he did hear the distinct crash of the glass tumbler and a loud yelp accompanying it shortly, before his personally created wards sealed the rooms and soundproofed them.
The absence of the questionable Headmistress and the Hogwarts High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge was right away noted by the students. As he passed a bunch of third-year Gryffindors he heard them mutter happily, " for once, our eyes are thanking us for not exposing them to 'PINK TORTURE'." Smirking inwardly, he took note of Draco and Blaise exchanging fugitive looks. The blonde boy was still sitting with Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. While Mr. Zabini was biting onto his toast and flipping through a notebook, with Miss Astoria Greengrass studying him from across the table. Bloody Baron nodded at the Head of House and rocked on his place sitting next to a bunch of second-year Slytherins muttering among themselves.
Snippets of rumors floated from all the tables as he took his seat at the High Table. Madam Sprout and Professor Flitwick greeted him coldly. The Charms Professor stifled a yawn and mumbled," The students have reasons to think something wild happened last night in the castle. We tried to keep it quiet, but the portraits and worse, Peeves rocketed from tower to tower shouting and singing on top of his voice, "the pink toad croaking at last! Mutiny, mutiny students out of bed, mutiny! Her honey barrels rolling empty next to her yowling kittens!"
Sprout and Hooch sniggered behind their goblets of pumpkin juice as Snape poured himself a large cup of hot coffee pretending to be disinterested in the conversation, eyeing the students stupendously.
Madam Sprout jiggled her heavy brows and mumbled good naturally," Oh, Filius do we really have to get rid of that Swamp? The Weasley Twins's several parting gifts are simply magnificent."
Hooch looked out of the bay windows and muttered without a drop of remorse in her voice, "What do you think is happening to our dear Dolores in the Forbidden Forest? Would you believe it, if I confessed, I have actually locked my broom in my closet, in case I am tempted to fly over the treetops and go searching for her?"
Aurora Sinistra huffed," Hooch, I can bet you wouldn't have done nothing once you had spotted her, would you? You were too angry about her poking her nose in Hogwarts' Quidditch affairs."
The yellow-eyed witch countered, " That's because there was no fair play- banning the seeker, and the beaters. I am not siding Gryffindors, but that was murder! Merlin, by sheer luck, Weasley buckled up and saved the match, didn't he? But Severus, I never pinned the Slytherins for lyricists."
Snape grunted as he watched the Fat Friar gliding away from the Hufflepuff table and was shortly joined by the Grey Lady. Following his line of sight, Flitwick explained, "Albus warned the ghosts not to say a word on the recent events. Though a lot of damage is already done…We thought it best not to go looking for her with Hagrid gone and the centaurs livid about Albus luring away Firenze to teach Divination."
No sooner had Severus taken a bite of his sausage, owls started arriving. Poppy Pomphrey hurried in from the side door and sat beside him, commanding him in a hushed tone, "Don't you dare leave. Eat everything on your plate. I had specially asked the kitchen to serve you a proper breakfast. Remus had updated me with your injuries, I know things will grow worse in the coming months. We need to build upon your strength. For Merlin's sake! You are no longer a teenager."
Throwing her a nasty glance, the wizard quipped," surely you are growing old Poppy, you are failing to find the stark difference between the blabbing thong of students in front of us and me sitting here, right at your elbow. Or it is your eyesight…"
Thankfully, his hands were empty, or he would have slipped his coffee or dropped his food because Madam Pomphrey had elbowed him hard enough.
Flitwick had passed over the Daily Prophet which Snape tried to throw aside but Poppy's hands shot out and picked them away from his grasp. She started reading loud enough for the both of them, "The Ministry of Magic was attacked sometime last night. The hideous crime is believed to have been orchestrated by a group of thieves who wanted to steal something of great value from within the Department of Mysteries. Until last Wednesday, the ministry has strongly assured our wizarding community that there is "no truth whatsoever in these flying rumours that You-know-who is operating amongst us once more."...well, anytime now the pin will drop Severus and the world will burst into a panic frenzy." Flipping over a handful of pages, Pomprey added gleefully, "Look Dolores's absence is duly noted by the nosy reporters as well. "Under such events it is quite unlikely that our correspondent has failed to reach the former undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, Madam Dolores Umbridge. On the other hand, several of the ministry officials have suggested that Albus Dumbledore is currently at the ministry…"
Snape spotted quite a number of his own Slytherin students looking uncertain once they had finished reading their own copies of Prophet. The younger students were both looking over their shoulders or speaking rapidly to their neighbours.
A handful of Ravenclaws grew bolder as the din rose a couple of notches. A fourth-year pointed out, "Well at least Dumbledore is coming back, and Umbridge is getting tossed." His friends thumped the table and clapped their hands. Growing more confident, he looked over his shoulders and said loud enough for the rest of the students to hear, "which means the Inquisition Squad is disbanded." Out of their comfort zone, a few of the fifth and sixth year Slytherins tried to catch their head of the house's attention. Snape continued pretending to read the prophet from over Madam Pomphrey's shoulders. Edgy and cornered, several of his wards sat rigid, ignoring the raising taunts while all the other houses shot menacing glances at them.
From under his lashes, he noticed a Hufflepuff draw out her wand and hold it close to her elbow and mutter a spell. The girl's eyes were trained at Montague who was about to leave the Great Hall. As soon as a hex shot out, Snape was up on his feet and out of the Hall through the side door beside the High Table. His Slytherins were way out of line the whole year, he won't defend them when they were so busy in sullying the values of their house. A small array of hexes and jinxes would teach them some lessons.
Once finding himself alone in the small antechamber which was used to gather the Triwizard champions nearly last year, he clenched his jaw and fisted his palms trying to calm his nerves down. Surely his students will take it as a betrayal, abandoning them like that, but what choice did he have? The door to the room opened and closed and he heard Poppy's sharp voice, "So you decide to let Flitwick and Sprout resolve the matter and leave without finishing your breakfast."
Stopping right in front of him, the witch planted her hands at her hips and growled, " I don't want to see you at Lunch or at Dinner," shoving a small assortment of potions into his sallow hands, she hissed, "Get back to your quarters right now and sleep it out. Don't force me to ask my personal house-elf to actually tie you to your bed."
Snorting softly, Severus drawled," Really Poppy?"
Crossing her arms over her chest the Medi-witch tilted her head up and glared," Well or do you want me to stun you, body bind you and drop you unceremoniously on your bed and post house-elves at your quarters, to keep an eye on you, Severus? Have mercy on me, first that Umbridge! Then Albus, Minerva, and now you!"
He dropped his head in shame and muttered apologetically," Forgive me, I…"
"Yes, you forgot, how everything can affect Madam Poppy Pomphrey...I have been going on and on, patching students this year, never considering which house they belonged to! never, never in my long tenure did I get to witness such mayhem. Wands pointed at each other and torture curses flying left and right! Thank goodness these are underage wizards and witches, they don't have it in them to channel powerful magic. And I can't even think about those twelve students! Even Miss Lovegood...who would have thought. That motherless child got snagged into this fiasco!"
The pale wizard didn't have the guts to tell the bristling old witch that things would go worse from here onwards.
Watching him with a frown she nudged at his elbow and stirred him towards the door mumbling softly, "Albus won't object now, go on then. The rest of us will manage these kids. I will patch up your snakes as well and send them packing back to the dungeons."
Patting her shoulder, he had bid a soft goodbye and went straight down the stairs that led to the dungeons. Indeed Albus will have to wait, he thought to himself, finally feeling a wave of exhaustion sweep through his stiff legs. But he needed to watch out for his wards. His wish was answered almost immediately as a Slytherin sixth year prefect appeared on top of the dungeon stairs making her way to the Great Hall.
"Miss Smith, kindly ask the other Slytherin Prefects to convey it to the rest of the house to return to the common room and be there until Lunch. All students are to come up for lunch as a group. I will address the entire house sometime around the afternoon. No one is to set a foot out of the common room meanwhile."
The girl shifted on her feet and whispered back tentatively, "Sir, we forgot about self-preservation and didn't even consider weighing all possible outcomes before deciding exactly what should be done…" she blushed and looked at her feet.
Snape dipped his voice and whispered, " Five points awarded for acute observations Miss Smith. Now make haste and feel free to guide any student to the hospital wing just in case."
Squaring her shoulders the girl watched the emerald stones shoot up and gather in the upper chamber of the hourglass and muttered in a melancholic voice, "Those really don't count, because I don't see the others adhering to the values of our proud house anymore." Giving the teacher a small nod, she made her way to the Great Hall.
A/N: The story of art theft mentioned in this chapter is entirely fictitious, invented to support future chapters in the series.