The Time For Silence
Characters and major events leading up to this story belong to JK Rowling.
Beliefs and opinions expressed in this chapter are those of the characters, not the author's.
ooo
3.
It was not really Severus on the wall, Minerva kept reminding herself. Nor was it really Albus. Even though Albus' portrait made her angry and Severus' made her want to hide and cry.
It was hard to remember that portraits didn't really have feelings. She was only sure of that when she passed Albus' white tomb or when she visited Severus' grave, which was always covered with daffodils.
Severus' suffering was over, but his portrait was demanding. It wanted to talk to the Slytherin students.
Minerva had suggested bringing Harry Potter to him, but Severus' portrait wasn't interested. He had been very impatient with Hermione Granger who had insisted on visiting him.
"Where are my memories?" he had yelled.
"I... the... the Ministry...took them," Hermione had stammered.
"I want them destroyed, do you hear me? Minerva, I want you to destroy these memories in front of my eyes!"
"Severus..." Albus had tried to intervene, but Severus had glared at him.
"These memories are mine, they are personal and I will not have the Ministry idiots meddling with them!"
It was not easy to live with Severus' portrait.
But the least Minerva could do was to bring his Slytherins to him, even if it involved sitting in a draught in the middle of the night waiting for them to show up.
If she had died, Minerva had wondered wistfully, as she waited on the cold ledge next to a stained window, would her Gryffindors sneak out at night to talk to her?
ooo
"Thank you, Minerva."
Before Snape's portrait had time to say anything else, Draco was shouting. Professor McGonagall and even Blaise, who was used to Draco's outbursts, jumped.
"You lied to me! You were a spy! My father trusted you! You're a traitor, you deserve to be dead! And what's that story about Potter's mother?"
At that point, Draco ran out of breath and Professor McGonagall found her voice.
"How dare you, Mr Malfoy!"
"You will get answers when you calm down and ask politely, Malfoy," said Snape.
"Yeah, call me Malfoy! You never cared about me!"
Draco turned abruptly. Professor McGonagall caught his arm.
"I have not been sitting on a stone ledge half the night for you to insult Professor Snape and then leave. You will do as he tells you and listen to what he has to say."
"I care for you very much, Draco," said Snape calmly. "How are your parents?"
Draco gulped.
"Okay. But you lied to us."
"Your father knew the truth. Things do not always have to be spoken out loud between friends."
"He knew?"
Draco's understanding of the world was crumbling before his eyes.
"The man who called himself the Dark Lord hurt your family very badly. I don't need to tell you that."
"Sit down," said Professor McGonagall.
Two straight-backed chairs, slightly softer than the ones she usually summoned, appeared in front of Snape's portrait.
Draco obeyed silently, obviously grappling with that thing he hardly knew: truth.
"You let us go to the Dark Lord," said Blaise, trying to sound respectful rather than resentful.
"Why didn't you listen to Professor Slughorn?"
"Because he's not you."
It was the first time Blaise and Draco saw Professor Snape at a loss for words. Professor McGonagall herself hadn't seen him lose composure since that night of Hallowe'en 1981...
After a few interminable minutes during which he looked from one boy to the other, Professor Snape finally said,
"You must always listen to the Head of Slytherin."
Minerva moved towards the window. It wouldn't do to break down now.
"You were the headmaster," said Blaise.
"I've been trying to do the essay," he added, as Snape stayed silent.
"Trying?"
Professor Snape sounded more like himself. For the first time, Blaise was almost pleased he hadn't written the essay.
"Yes, sir. I looked at it just now."
"Looked at it?"
"I wrote that..." Blaise glanced at Professor McGonagall.
"Why don't you go to bed, Minerva?" said Snape. "You are exhausted."
"I can't leave these students alone in the Headmaster's... I mean the Headmistress' office."
"They are not alone."
"Severus, you forget you are a portrait."
"Go to bed, Minerva."
Happier times were back for Blaise and Draco, as they watched the glaring duel between the Gryffindor Headmistress and the dead Slytherin Headmaster. Slytherin won. To his surprise, Blaise felt like cheering.
"Goodnight, Minerva."
"Goodnight, Severus," said Professor McGonagall, doubting very much that he would have a good night. On the other hand, she reminded herself, he was only a portrait. Only a portrait.
As soon as she had left, Blaise smirked.
"I wrote that the world shouldn't be ruled by Gryffindors."
"Who should rule it?"
"Slytherins, of course."
Dumbledore's portrait tried to say something, but Snape didn't let him.
"You put me in charge of the Slytherin students. I'll handle them. How about visiting one of your numerous other portraits?"
Snape had never spoken to Dumbledore in such a tone when they were alive. Blaise and Draco exchanged a look that was almost gleeful.
"Let's make a compromise," said Dumbledore. "I'll listen in silence."
Snape curled his lip. He and Dumbledore were bound together for eternity.
"Things are not so simple, Blaise. The man who called himself Voldemort was a Slytherin, but he would not have been a good leader for the wizarding world."
"There are many other Slytherins besides him."
"Indeed."
Snape glanced at Dumbledore's portrait.
"The wizarding world cannot be ruled by members of one single house. That would be absurd," intervened Fortescue's portrait.
"That is why it shouldn't be ruled by Gryffindors. What else did you write in the essay?"
"Er, nothing. Just the reason why Gryffindors aren't doing a good job."
Dumbledore's portrait put on a pained face.
"No need to waste time with the reasons. They are obvious," sniffed Snape. "My question is, what do you think needs doing?"
"Me as a Slytherin, sir?"
"You as Blaise Zabini."
Blaise stared. What was Blaise Zabini, outside of Slytherin? A second-class pureblood, a boy who had long forgotten who his real father was. Blaise Zabini was hardly the person to reform wizarding society.
Or maybe he was, indeed, exactly the right person.
"I dunno, sir."
"You can do better than that."
"I can't."
"Keep trying."
"Sir, am I going to keep on writing that b-... that essay for the rest of my life?"
"I have heard of worse fates."
"But what's the point?"
"You don't want Gryffindors ruling the wizarding world. As it happens, they are. You need a valid alternative to offer."
"Why? We lost. It's not like they're going to ask for our opinion. It's not like they ever ask us for anything, except to shut up."
"You can still think."
"Think about what?"
"You have been thinking about the essay."
Blaise fidgeted.
"It's not just the essay. It's everything. We thought you were on the Dark Lord's side and Slughorn was a bit of an idiot."
"Professor Slughorn is no idiot.'
"Oh, no?" sneered Draco.
"He treats us like he's ashamed of us,' said Blaise.
"I'll speak to him."
"He's not going to listen to you. He never cared about you. All he cares about is proving how loyal he was to the... to Professor Dumbledore."
Snape sighed.
"Don't you understand why that is necessary?"
"I'm not sucking up to them," said Draco.
"Nor am I," said Blaise.
"I didn't tell you to do that. What we must do is clarify our position. That's why the essay is important."
"You were trying to warn me, weren't you?"
"Why didn't you warn ME?" shouted Draco.
"You wouldn't have listened. But you discovered the truth without my help. We were all fooled. The house of Slytherin has suffered more than the other houses."
"The others are all heroes."
"Slytherins are not meant to be heroes."
"You're a hero."
"Nonsense. I chose the wrong side and had to repair my mistake."
"Potter's the big hero."
"That is not the point. War isn't about heroes. What you must concentrate on now is Slytherin solidarity and listening to Professor Slughorn."
"He isn't ashamed of you," added Dumbledore. "He is ashamed of himself."
"For not stopping us?"
"Among other things."
The boys noticed Snape wasn't rebuking Dumbledore for speaking after had said he wouldn't.
"We need to work together to redefine Slytherin. You need to lose your image as Voldemort followers."
"By doing what?"
"Substituting positive values."
"Like what?"
"You tell me. What are Slytherin values?"
"Blood purity."
"Blood purity is indeed a value, but it is not enough. Blood purity is essence. What have I taught you about essence in Potions?"
The boys exchanged uneasy glances.
"Essence needs to be diluted."
"What?" shouted Draco who had never heard such heresy in his life.
"The soul of a pureblood wizard has a very high magic potential. On the other hand, too much intermarriage weakens the body. This creates a body too weak to support the soul."
"Too weak? Look at Cr-... I mean Goyle!"
"Sometimes," continued Snape, " the soul destroys the body. Sometimes the body weakens the soul."
"You say that because you're a half-blood," spat Draco.
"What does that mean?" asked Blaise.
"Death, if the soul destroys the body. Loss of magic, if the body weakens the soul."
"That doesn't make sense. We'd all be Squibs or dead."
"A lot of you are."
"How dare you insult us!"
"I am telling you the truth, Draco. It's high time you heard it. Purebloods are precious because they are very rare."
"We'll be even more rare if we mix," said Blaise in a disgusted tone.
"It is not only a question of mixing blood," said Snape, in the tone he used when teaching Ravenclaws. " Pure blood is potential. I'll give you an example in Arithmancy. Take six zeroes. By themselves, they are nothing. Add a one in front of them, you have a million. Add a nine, you get nine millions. Purebloods are the guardians of wizarding tradition. This implies responsibility."
"Responsibillity?"
"You should be teachers."
"Teachers, ha! Who'll listen to us?"
"Muggle-borns crave knowledge."
"Right. Mud-... Muggle-borns are going to come to us for knowledge."
"So why didn't Salazar Slytherin want them at Hogwarts?"
"For two reasons. First, for security reasons: Muggle-borns returned to their Muggle families that always contained hostile elements. Second, Muggle-borns need a different kind of coaching, as they are completely new to the magical world."
Blaise nodded.
"So the world should be ruled by purebloods."
"Only those who live up to their potential."
"How does one do that?"
"You must answer that question, Blaise."
"Is that another essay?"
"No, it's the same one."
"You're lucky you're dead," grumbled Draco. "How does one live up to one's potential in this mess?"
"What does your father say?"
Draco looked away.
"Nothing," he muttered.
"He is right. Now is the time for silence. Let the world forget you. During this time, Slytherins should stand together and redefine their principles."
Draco groaned.
"Yes, Draco. Without your father's help. Learn to think for yourself. Salazar Slytherin was a geat wizard. His name should not be assimilated to Voldemort."
"Hear hear," said Phineas Nigellus Black.
"And then what? The Gryffs are in power."
"Only until they make their next mistake."
Phineas Nigellus smirked.
"And then?"
"Next Slytherin Minister for Magic must not be a dark lord."
"There will always be dark lords," said Dumbledore.
"Not all are Slytherins."
"A Gryffindor dark lord? Humph!" sniffed Phineas Nigellus.
Dumbledore coughed.
"You'd be surprised."
"Who was a Gryffindor dark lord?" asked Snape.
"No one, happily. But all is possible."
Snape was a little taken aback. Phineas Nigellus looked skeptical. The boys exchanged glances. Their meeting with Snape's portrait was not unfolding at all the way they had expected. A Gryffindor dark lord? Essence needs to be diluted? Redefine Slytherin? This had to be a dream. Draco yawned.
"It's very late, boys," said Snape. "I want you in class on time tomorrow morning. Whenever you need to talk to me, the Headmistress has instructions to let you in. Regards to your parents, Draco."
"Goodnight, sir."
.
As the spiral steps carried them downwards, Blaise whispered,
"Snape's the real headmaster here."
Draco yawned again. He was too confused to have an opinion. Any kind of opinion.