Interlude III
Barty kneeled just behind the high-backed chair, waiting for his Lord's fury to pass.
The stone floor was beginning to make his knees ache, but he paid it as little mind as he had the Cruciatus that his Lord had furiously cast.
Wormtail had cowardly fled the basement, transforming into a rat and escaping into the rest of Barty's father's house.
Unlike the rat, Barty had been willing and ready to face the consequences of the information he'd brought.
Most of his Lord's wrath had not even been directed at him. The walls of the basement were all cracked, scorch marks blackening the grey stone.
The fire had returned to its usual height, the sudden fuel that had made it rise from the fireplace and reach the ceiling having vanished.
Patiently, Barty waited, debating offering to bring his father for the Dark Lord to vent his rage.
Nagini's tail, which stretched far beyond the chair's armrests, begin to flick from side to side as the Dark Lord's sibilant hissing filled Barty's ears.
After a moment, the great snake slithered off of the chair and began to slide towards the stairs.
"Rise."
He did so immediately, not even pausing to think.
"Forward, Barty."
He walked around the chair, averting his eyes so as not to gaze upon his master in disgrace.
Soon, he knew, his Lord would be returned to glory and would avenge himself upon Potter. Until then, he would do everything he could to ensure that the plan would proceed smoothly, even if it meant acting nice to the disgusting boy.
"Lucius' punishment will have to wait. His connections in the Ministry are too valuable to abandon now. Only once he has served out his use will he face judgement."
"As you wish, my lord."
"So I do. Bring the girl to me. I wish to examine her mind myself before I decide."
"I will. If I may, what will her purpose be if she does prove trustworthy?"
"She will be a spy, my servant who none would ever suspect."
"My lord, I-"
"You have been my most trustworthy servant," the Dark Lord said, sounding amused, "but next year, you will not be at Hogwarts. She will. And even if you were, one can never have too many spies. You will train her, hone her skills in the art of deception."
"I believe that she could prove a great asset, my lord. She is most driven."
"I have heard your report. I wish to see her for myself. You will bring her to me."
"And if my lord doesn't approve of her?"
"Then we will find a way to dispose of her without raising suspicions."
Perhaps sensing Barty's discomfort, the Dark Lord chuckled.
"Would you not wish to do so?"
"I-if that is your decision, then I will gladly do so."
"Bring her to me, Barty. I will only decide then."
The dismissal in the Dark Lord's voice was clear. Bowing deeply, Barty began to back away.
"Barty. Your father almost escaped Wormtail's Imperius again," the Dark Lord said, "You should check in on them before you leave, perhaps to ensure that he is too pain-addled to even think of fighting."
Barty tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his grin.
"As you wish, my lord."
Severus paused as he entered the Headmaster's office, the soft music that greeted him stopping his motion.
Fawkes was singing, a hauntingly mournful dirge that seemed to wordlessly describe all of Severus' confused emotions.
For a second, he wavered, debating simply leaving this conversation for later, for once he'd had a chance to think further.
"Severus," Albus said, not turning to face him, "join me, if you will."
He walked forward, taking the seat Albus conjured up beside him and staring, as Albus was doing, out at the setting sun over the Hogwarts grounds.
Albus didn't even look at him, simply continuing to stroke his Phoenix's back and stare.
He felt the acid rising in his stomach again, as he saw the wet eyes hiding behind the half-moon glasses.
"You met with the parents?" He asked, trying and failing to keep his voice in its usual, disaffected tone.
"Yes," Albus said. "They were distraught. They have, however, agreed that keeping it quiet is the best thing to do."
"It doesn't make any sense," he said, unable to hold it in much longer.
"Death never does, not to those of us who have been left behind. It is-"
"Spare me your philosophical drivel," he snapped.
"The last time this school failed a student so badly that they saw no recourse but to end their own life was many years ago. I believe I am owed some philosophical drivel."
"I mean, it doesn't make sense. There were no signs, Albus. Not that were visible to me, any of the other staff, or any of his friends. It doesn't make sense for him to have killed himself. It simply doesn't."
"And yet, the handwriting in the note was his. The last spells his wand cast were to conjure a rope and to fasten it to the ceiling. There is no evidence of any intruder in the dorm."
"He was excited about the future," he snarled, "He was making plans for next year. I met with him three weeks ago, and he was overjoyed to report that he would be staying with his cousins in Spain for the first half of next year."
"Severus-"
"He was raised in a loving home, pampered like a prince. He was one of the most popular students in his year. He had above-average grades. His future was bright. He had never, not once, shown signs of depression or melancholy."
"When last we discussed your students-"
"Yes," Snape said, jumping to his feet and beginning to pace before the window, "I told you that he was egotistical and capable of unthinking, casual cruelty which I found worrying. I also told you that I believed his entrance into the world at large would deflate his enlarged head and now that won't happen because he's dead!"
"You mustn't blame yourself," Albus said urgently, "I know that-"
"This is not my guilt talking," Snape half-shouted, "I'm telling you the boy was murdered!"
Albus shook his head slowly, resuming his stroking of Fawkes.
"And who do you think committed this fell deed? Do you suspect any of your co-workers?"
"Obviously not."
"So you believe a student here was capable of performing the Imperius or one of its variants? Not merely performing it, but managing to keep any of poor Terrence's roommates and friends from realizing anything was amiss?"
"It would have to have been the Imperius," Albus continued, not giving Snape a chance to reply. "There were no signs of a struggle, and as I mentioned, the writing was verified to have been by his hand. None of the other students could recall him acting strangely at all, in the time leading up to his death."
"It could have been one of the variants of the Imperius," Severus said stubbornly. "The Parerum Curse can be cast remotely."
"And just like the Imperius, it cannot be tested for after death. And there still is no motive."
"That we know of. Why are you being so wilfully blind, Albus? There is no motive for him to have done it either."
"What shall I tell you, Severus? I understand the points you have mentioned, and I share your discomfort with the situation. But we have nowhere to start! We have no suspects, no knowledge of anyone bearing even a minor grudge for the boy. Let us assume, for argument's sake, that the Parerum Curse was used. Any student fourth year or above would have been capable of casting it, provided they had the requisite knowledge. I feel certain that any member of the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons' delegations would have been capable as well. Find me a motive, Severus. Find me a reason for someone to have murdered Mr Higgs."
"And if I do?" Severus whispered, his face mere inches from Dumbledore's.
"Then I will take appropriate action."
"Will you? Or-"
"Do not imply that I take the safety of my students any less seriously than you do," Albus said, his voice carrying a note of warning.
Severus smiled coldly, not an ounce of humour reaching his glimmering eyes.
"What if the perpetrator is a werewolf?" he asked softly, "or perhaps a Gryffindor who has so nobly bucked his family tradition? Will you still care for your students' safety then?"
With that, Severus strode out of the office, his robes billowing behind him, the Phoenix song making tears sting at the corners of his eyes for the first time in more than a decade.
Moody clanked his way up to the desk and sat, sipping from his flask as he did.
Fawkes squawked, rising in a flurry of golden crimson wings and flying back to his perch.
"So," Moody asked, "anything further on the Higgs boy?"
"Very little," Albus said. "His parents took his wand to Ollivander, who confirmed that no one else had gained mastery of it. Nevertheless, like Severus, they do not believe that he took his own life."
"Course they don't," Moody said. "Don't want to admit their perfect little boy was lying to them about his feelings."
Albus shook his head, tapping the rim of the Pensieve with a fingernail.
"I find myself agreeing with them. I've been examining Severus' memories of his interactions with the boy, as well as my own and those of his other professors and his friends. Usually, with hindsight, we can see the signs. But I believe Severus is right. There were no visible signs."
"So you think someone killed him."
"I think someone placed him under the Imperius or one of the spells like it. Severus raised the possibility of the Parerum Curse. I believe that would have been the most likely."
"Probably wasn't particularly careful about his hair or nails," Moody grunted.
"Yes. And there have been other disturbing occurrences. In the weeks leading up to Mr Higgs' death, there has been a spate of animal disappearances or deaths in the castle."
Moody's eyebrows rose. "I know about Longbottom's toad. What else?"
"Miss Granger's cat, Mr Hopkin's rat. Two school owls, one of which had flown into the Whomping Willow."
"Could have been someone practising the spell," Moody said, stroking his scarred chin, "but it doesn't narrow the specific spell down."
"No," Dumbledore said, "luckily, perhaps, we may yet have a clue. I will only have the chance to discuss it with him later today, but Mr Filch spoke to Hagrid last night. Apparently, Mrs Norris, his cat, has been acting very strangely."
"How so?"
"A few weeks ago, she bit him. For the first time ever. He's seen her ramming her head into the wall and doing other odd things like that. I would like you to assist me in testing her for curses."
Moody nodded curtly.
"It may be too much to hope for, but if it is indeed the Parerum Curse, we should be able to track whatever the perpetrator took from her body."
"Should be easy enough. Unless they got rid of it."
"Even so. Mr Filch is currently in Hogsmeade. He should be back within an hour or so. I will discuss Mrs Norris' symptoms with him, and then, with his permission, we will test her."
Moody nodded.
"I did want to ask you, have you had any luck with the students we discussed at the beginning of the year?"
"Spent some time with the Longbottom boy," he said, a chagrined look flickering across his face for an instant. "Told him a bit about his parents. I get the feeling he doesn't hear much about them. As people, I mean."
Albus nodded sadly.
"He's still a wet blanket," Moody said frankly, "and I don't see that changing anytime soon. But we talk. He's warmed up to me a bit, although he still barely says anything that's not about plants."
"It is doing far more good than you realize. Minerva said she believes the boy seems more content than usual. What about Mr Carmichael?"
"Got him to talk a little bit. He said something about having to be very quiet once his dad's had a few drinks."
He grimaced. "He seemed to realize he'd said too much. Been avoiding me since then."
"Still, if he has admitted that much, it gives you something to work with. What about Miss Weasley?"
"I've got a plan for her," he said. "She hasn't much wanted to talk, whenever I've tried. But she came top in her year the last term on the practical side, and her theory put her in the top five. So I've offered her some extra, more advanced lessons next term."
Moody quickly raised his hand as Albus opened his mouth.
"Nothing too intense," he said, "I'll just do what I've been doing with the fourth and fifth years. It'll give me an opening."
"I was going to say that it is a wonderful idea. Did she seem excited about it?"
"Damned if I know," he said gruffly, "she looked interested, but she hasn't given me an answer yet. I was planning on asking her today so I can start making plans if she says yes."
"Good. I don't know how much we have to worry about her; Minerva is pleased with her progress in general. Nevertheless, if you can get her to open up about Voldemort's possession of her, it could only do good. Any luck with Mr Nott?"
"I told you, Albus. I'm not too interested in helping out the spawns of Death Eaters who never even faced justice."
Albus shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something. He seemed to think better of it, but when he next spoke, his voice was lacking its usual warmth.
"Well, three out of four is not bad, Alastor, not bad at all. Have you ever thought about a future in teaching?"
"Once this year's over," Moody said, pushing himself to his feet, "I'm out of here. I'd like to grab Weasley before Filch gets back. This testing, it could take hours."
"Yes. Alastor?"
Moody paused, turning his head and leaning on his staff halfway to the door.
"Do you have any suspects in mind?"
Moody gave a wolfish grin, his magical eye spinning around in its socket.
"Everyone's a suspect, Albus. But I'll be keeping a closer watch on Karkaroff's lot."