A LIKELY STORY
Disclaimer: This sequel to "Who Lives in Disguise" is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.
Thanks to my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste and Cecelle.
Hermione lay awake on the sticky, plastic-covered, velveteen sofa in the Dursleys' lounge room, staring up through the dark at the ceiling, her blanket half-under her and her nails clenched into her palms, pondering the same questions that had been keeping her awake for three weeks.
Where was Professor Snape and why hadn't he contacted her? And if – when he did, what was she going to say?
She'd expected to be doing something useful by now, Horcrux-hunting or exploring Godric's Hollow or hiding out from Death Eaters or whatever. Instead, they were holed up at the Dursleys with nothing to show for it but a fight with her parents, who hadn't appreciated discovering that the "minor disturbances" of her letters were actually part of a major war, centred around one of her inseparable best friends; an even nastier fight with the Dursleys, who hadn't wanted an extra two "freaks" living in their house; and an imminent Apparition test for Ron that the Ministry had refused to schedule before July 1. At least they'd managed to notify the Office for Underage Magic that two adult magic-users were on the premises.
And every night, two familiar faces were on the news, one glaring blackly over a large nose, one pale and pointed and petulant, as the BBC announcer warned, "…armed and dangerous. If seen, do not approach under any circumstances." She'd quickly taken to avoiding any room with a TV or radio in it.
This was not a good time to be seen visiting Knockturn Alley or trying to buy an unregistered wand, not with Aurors everywhere taking down names for suspicious behaviour. Harry needed a new wand before he faced Voldemort again, but he'd prefer not to have to explain why or to owe the Ministry any favours. And then there was the Order of the Phoenix and its surprising new leader.
"Did they tell you where headquarters is now?" she'd asked the boys, as soon as they'd closed the door on their protesting hosts that first day. A Fidelius went into stasis with its Secret Keeper's death, but secret didn't necessarily mean still useful – or safe.
"Same place," muttered Harry, shifting on his narrow, lumpy bed. "Snape still can't bring anyone with him or tell them how to find it and the new Head thinks they should keep it there."
"They've rigged up an alarm though," Ron added. "In case, he tries to infiltrate by himself. Then they'd catch him."
"He's not that stupid," Harry said, leaning against the wall. It was really a very small bedroom.
"Didn't say he was!" Ron fired up.
"But how can they recruit anyone new without the Secret Keeper?" Hermione asked. "I thought Dumbledore's entrance-notes were always destroyed immediately after use." There wouldn't be much point having a Secret Keeper if the secret was left lying around in written form.
"Oh, that," Ron said. "Apparently, the Fidelius was vested in the position of Head of the Order, not in Dumbledore personally, so that's not a problem."
"And who is the new Head of the Order?" asked Hermione, mystified by their alternating airiness and tension.
"Ah, well," Ron said proudly. "That'd be my dad."
Mr Weasley was the new Head of the Order?
She smiled as widely as she could.
"That's – umm, that's great, Ron. Wow." She glanced at Harry. "Umm, remember how great he was at the World Cup," she said rather desperately. "So quick to act and so commanding. And – And they all listened to him when Mr Crouch tried to blame it on us."
"See, mate," Ron told Harry. "I told you. Even Hermione agrees."
Harry and Hermione shared an agonised grimace.
"So, umm, where do I sleep?" Hermione asked brightly. "You've only got one spare mattress in here."
And here she was, three weeks on, hot and sweaty and waiting. Was the professor even still alive? He'd been mauled by Buckbeak during his escape. Could he possibly have lost too much blood to Apparate safely? Had Voldemort Crucioed him on arrival for disobediently taking Malfoy's job or, worse, killed him to eliminate a possible rival? If he wasn't dead or badly injured somewhere, then what was he waiting for? He'd said he'd contact her. Should she stop waiting and message him instead?
As she brooded, a shimmery silver scorpion flew through the closed window and landed on her wrist. And there he was in her head, sour, sharp, prickly and sarcastic.
Your parents' back garden. Half an hour.
He was there when Hermione Apparated to the bare spot of lawn next to the potted aspidistra though she didn't see him till he spoke, so quietly she almost missed it.
"You're three minutes late."
She whirled. In the unlit leafy darkness by the tall hedge, he was a darker shadow, but for the sliver of face visible through wings of curtaining hair.
"How dare you make me meet here!" she hissed, her hand closing on her wand. "You know I'm trying to keep them out of it!" All her doubts and questions rose up into her throat to choke her.
He cast Muffliato before replying.
"Cease your hysterics, Miss Granger. I was not followed and not even the Ministry can track Apparition trails."
She glowered at him.
"But why here, of all places?"
His chin lifted. She found she was looking up his nostrils and tossed her head to look past him at dark leaves. Leaves didn't smirk and snort and sneer.
"A moment's thought would have told you, if you ever used your head for thinking," he replied. "It's one place you may visit as often as you like without arousing anyone's suspicions and anyone who follows either of us would set off the wards."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't you set off the wards?"
"Hardly, since I'm the one who helped Dumbledore set them. I did tell you last year this house was warded. Did you never wonder how I knew?"
She swallowed.
"I don't want you near my parents. Murderer."
Was he laughing?
"You've known for at least two years that I was a Death Eater. Did you think I'd never killed before now?"
"It isn't only Dumbledore. You sold out Harry's parents." She thought he stiffened.
"Sold out the Potters? A likely story. Why would you think I was ever in their confidence?"
"You were the one who overheard the prophecy and told Vol –"
"Don't say that name! Do you want him to hear?" he spat, looming menacingly nearer. The damp grass squelched underfoot.
"Dumbledore told Harry not to be afraid of saying it," she told him, lifting her chin.
"Dumbledore didn't have a Dark Mark."
She wrinkled her forehead. Was the Dark Mark a stronger connection than a curse scar? Harry could actually feel Voldemort's emotions. Surely if it was safe for him to say Voldemort, it was safe for Snape too.
"Harry's marked."
His right hand rubbed once at his left arm before he stopped himself and glared her down.
"Potter is marked as his conqueror. I'm marked as his slave," he said.
She chewed on her lip. That might make sense. On the other hand, maybe he was just distracting her from her accusation, as he'd done so many times during her training.
"You heard the prophecy –"
"Half of it."
" – and then you passed it on to him! Liar! You told me you couldn't fight for a side that kills babies and you offered him Harry!"
Her wand was in her hand, pointing into his face. He didn't flinch.
"The first part of the prophecy says nothing about a baby," he said quietly.
"'Born as the seventh month dies …'" she scoffed. Then she paused. "Oh. 'Born', not 'will be born'. I suppose not." She searched his face for any sign of sorrow or remorse. In the dim light, there was none. "Is that why Dumbledore said it was the greatest regret of your life? Because it was a baby? I know you hated Harry's dad, I heard you say so in the Shrieking Shack! You couldn't have been sorry it was him."
"The less you know of my actions or my reasons for acting the better. There is no need for you to know and that is enough reason not to tell you," he said calmly.
"You expect me to trust you when you won't tell me anything!"
He looked past the wand and into her eyes. His own were shadowed.
"You know already more of my reasons than I've ever told any other but one."
"You can't think how flattered I am," she said sarcastically. "And will you kill me too when you're done with me?"
He pushed his face into hers with the speed of a striking snake.
"I will do whatever is necessary to keep Potter alive to do his work," he told her through clenched teeth. "If it is ever a question of your death or his, it will be yours." Her eyes dropped from his and he continued in an edged voice, "I believe in such a circumstance you would concur with my decision."
Her wand hand fell, trembling. She shoved it into her pocket.
"You have an answer for everything," she complained.
"But the only answer that matters is yours. You know now what I'm capable of. Do you trust me still? Do we still work together?"
She pulled a leaf off the lone rose bush and started ripping at it. A shower of fragments fell. She took another.
"I – I think so."
He had straightened up to watch her, with a wry twitch of the lips, knowing he must force her to the choice.
"Then tell me what is the task Dumbledore left him."
The leaf floated gently to the ground. She didn't notice.
"I – No! If he'd wanted you to know, he'd have told you himself!"
"As long as he was alive, I didn't need to know," he said inexorably as she gulped and gulped again. "Parts of the whole, yes, but not the full sum. He was the leader and all the strings were in his hand and he had strength and experience to know which ones to pull. But you, little know-it-all, are hardly in the same league. You need my counsel."
Still she recoiled.
"I can't tell you. I'm sworn to secrecy."
"And I'm sworn to the Dark Lord," he mocked. "So you don't trust me?"
She glared up at him, her hands clenched and her mouth tight.
"I can't tell you," she said again.
In the dull dark, she couldn't decipher his expression. Perhaps his lips thinned. Perhaps his eyes flashed. He stepped back.
"Then you don't trust me enough for me to trust you. As you wish. A Patronus will reach me, if ever you are in desperate need. Don't waste my time on anything less."
"I – Wait! You'd – You'd just go? Just like that?"
His lips curled into a familiar sneer.
"Little girl, I've been doing this since you slept in your cradle and I haven't lasted this long by taking foolish risks. If I'm to keep my place at the Dark Lord's side, my actions must be calculated to confirm his trust, not yours. The doubt you feel now will only grow, until one day you'll bring Aurors with you to one of these meetings – as you should have done tonight, if you do think me a traitor. Go! Help Potter to the best of your meagre abilities. I've other fish to fry."
He drew his cloak around him and turned to Apparate. She took two hasty steps forward and grabbed his arm. It was as rigid as a steel rod. Their eyes met and she let go, her hands trembling, but she didn't step away.
"Wait! Please! Do you know anyone with the initials R.A.B.? We think he might have been a Death Eater, but we can't be sure when."
He didn't step away either. His face was as rigid as his arm.
"Regulus. Did Black never tell you he had a brother? But he's been dead sixteen years."
Her hand came up to cover her gaping mouth.
"Regulus Black?" Why had that never occurred to them? "Are you sure? What did the A stand for?"
"I don't recall, Ambrose or Alphard or some such name, but I am sure of the initial. His mother had all his possessions monogrammed. It was a standing joke in Slytherin that his brother's middle name doubtless began with O." He smirked, murmuring, "One could only applaud such parental foresight."
"Then maybe there's one in Grimmauld Place!" Hermione said.
"Guard your tongue," he said sharply. "You shouldn't be gifting those you mistrust with sensitive information. I believe there's still a spy in the Order. Have you any other silly questions before I go?"
"Professor – Oh, this is ridiculous. I don't even know what to call you any more," she said.
"It hardly matters, since I won't be there to hear it."
"Please," she begged. "Don't go yet! Give me time to think."
He glared down his nose at her.
"You've had weeks. Any further delay is mere procrastination. Make your choice."
He was already turning. She took a long, unsteady breath, her blood thumping in her ears.
"Horcruxes," she whispered despairingly.
He stopped. His cloak billowed suddenly free as he whirled on her.
"But the ring and the diary were destroyed and Dumbledore expected to secure the locket that night!" he said. "How many more were there?"
So he knew some of it already. He'd just been testing her. She went on more confidently.
"We think there were seven altogether, six plus him. But R.A.B got to the locket first. There was one in the cave with the Inferi, but when Harry looked at it after – after you left, it was the wrong one and there was a note from R.A.B, saying 'I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.'"
He nodded. Her word-for-word memorisation was useful for once, but there was no chance he'd tell her so.
"So we don't know whether he succeeded or not. Pity. But if it did end up in Grimmauld Place, the elf would probably know." His lips pursed. "You should go through the library. Regulus must have learned about Horcruxes from somewhere. Don't tell the Order what you're looking for though. I suppose Weasley's still basing them there?"
Her eyes and mouth were round.
"Yes, how did you know? That he was the new Head, I mean."
"You weren't Dumbledore's only contingency plan. Of course he appointed a successor. Why would you think otherwise?" He gave her a knowing, sweeping glance. "Anxious, were you? He'll do well enough. Didn't you ever notice that he quietly does exactly what he wants to do while his wife storms ineffectually around him?"
She sagged with relief and he scowled at her.
"What is the use of closing your mind with Occlumency when your body language is so open? It's a pity I didn't include acting in the subjects I taught you."
She bit her lip.
"I can act when I need to. I fooled Umbridge."
"A great feat, indeed," he sneered. "What do you know of the other Horcruxes?"
Hermione welcomed the change of subject.
"We're pretty sure one is Hufflepuff's cup and we don't know for sure, but Dumbledore suggested Nagini might be another."
"Nagini? Why did he suppose her a Horcrux? Did he say?"
"Well, we're pretty sure Vol – You-Know-Who was at least one Horcrux short when he came back, because he meant to make one from the Potters and he got disembodied instead. And she was there the next time he killed someone – the gardener at his grandparents' house – so that's motive and opportunity. We're fairly sure he wanted to use founders' artefacts and a snake is Slytherin, of course. But I suppose the main reason is that he can possess her, like he did when she bit Mr Weasley."
Snape considered this, one long finger tracing around his mouth.
"Perhaps," he said at last. "The first arguments make sense, at any rate, but the last seems neither here nor there. He's never needed a Horcrux to possess his hosts. In his bodiless state, he possessed Quirrell, at least, and many smaller creatures before that, I believe. And after his return, I'm told he possessed Potter several times and you're surely not suggesting that he's a Horcrux?"
Hermione's breath caught. Unconsciously, she put her hand on his sleeve.
"Could he be?"
The silence before his answer was terrible.
"It seems unlikely. It might have appealed to the Dark Lord's sense of irony to turn his supposed nemesis into his Horcrux, but I'm quite sure he meant to kill him that night and his first act upon his return was to attempt it again. I believe we can discount that possibility for the moment."
"For the moment?" she quavered, her hand tightening on his arm. He firmly removed it and moved away, scowling at her.
"Nothing can be discounted entirely at this stage, but it seems considerably less likely than the other. For my part, I doubt he'd have chosen to store his deathlessness in a creature capable of dying, in which case neither would be right."
She forced a smile.
"I suppose you'd look for one that didn't die, like a phoenix – Oh! Fawkes? We know Vol – he came back to Hogwarts to ask Dumbledore for the Defense position."
He gave her a blighting glance.
"Don't be ridiculous. A phoenix is far too powerful to be used in such a way; it would naturally repel any attempt to imbue it with Dark magic."
"But You-Know-Who has one of Fawkes's feathers in his wand and he's able to use that for evil!"
"Once separated from its origin, yes. A feather is not sentient and can be used by anyone who holds it." He paused, his head tilted as if listening to the trees. "That may offer another possibility," he said slowly. "The wand fills the same conditions as the snake. It was there when he killed Bryce; it represents a founder – indeed, a phoenix feather is probably as close to a Gryffindor artefact as he could obtain, for the Gryffindor colours of red and gold were derived from one that was reputedly Godric's familiar – and, of course, he keeps it very close."
"That isn't much help," Hermione said gloomily. "Instead of narrowing the possibilities down, you're expanding them."
"That's as it should be," he said curtly. "It's better to destroy twice the number we need than to miss one. While you're researching, try if you can learn how to identify a Horcux, and you'd better acquire a Dark Detector before one of you winds up cursed. You may not be as lucky as Miss Bell." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I must go. Stay out of Diagon for the next few days. It won't be safe."
She gasped.
"Who do I tell?"
"No one. That's taken care of. Just persuade your foolish friends to stay home."
She chewed on her lower lip.
"Ron's got his Apparition test on Tuesday. Should he not go?"
"I hardly think it will be a problem. It will be no more a waste of time than anything else he's likely to do that day."
She was still glaring after he Apparated away.
A/N Unashamedly AU to Deadly Hallows, I'm sure, as my mind works at a tangent to JK's. I make no attempt to second-guess or reproduce what she may have in store for us. (And I don't like Horcruxes, so don't expect them to be the main point of this fic.)
Whitehound was the one who noticed that the first part of the prophecy doesn't specify a baby as the "vanquisher". I think John Gardner may be the one who first suggested the wand as a Horcrux, though the phoenix explanation is my own and a phoenix familiar for Godric is not canon.
Aspidistra are very hardy plants, but they wouldn't survive outside in the cold of an English winter. Some people do move the pots out in summer, however.
Canon Dark Detectors are Foe-Glasses, Secrecy Sensors and Sneakoscopes. Although they didn't use any while clearing out Grimmauld Place, I presume there may be other kinds, eg something that detects whether an item is cursed.