Early the next morning, Snape felt himself being shaken roughly awake. Groaning slightly, he opened his eyes to tiny slits and saw the telltale flash from the glass of Dumbledore's spectacles. Suddenly alert, he sat up, shaking his unwashed hair out of his eyes.
"Dumbledore? What's happened? I…" Rolling out of bed, Snape began to pull on his robes with one hand, and grabbed his wand with the other. "Is it the Dark Lord? Should we be ready to fight? Is it-" He noticeably blanched at the thought. "Is it Draco? Is it Potter?" Without waiting for an answer, Snape pushed past Dumbledore and began to run out of his dungeon room. Dumbledore called him back, a strong tinge of laughter in his voice.
"No Severus, the time has not come yet. Both Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter are fine, and I believe are still in their beds." For the first time, Snape looked at this clock and realised it was only five in the morning. "I have come to discuss with you the plans we are to make. Remember, today is the day of your dismissal." Dumbledore casually picked up a jar containing a preserved five headed squirrel and began to study it. "I see you have not yet packed. That is better for you, of course. It will make events that all more dramatic."
"Dramatic?" Snape dragged himself away from the door and rounded on the Headmaster. "You still are clinging onto this idea that firing me will preserve our plan? Why can we not keep things as they are? Everything is perfect!"
"Harry suspects." Dumbledore gave a shrug, and refused to stop looking at the squirrel. "He came to me shortly after you left, claiming that he had heard you talking to Draco about me. We have not been careful enough. You need to go more than ever."
"Oh, Potter." Snape threw up his arms, and ran around the dungeon his face clouded with a curious mixture of hatred and exasperation. "Potter is the one who should go!"
"And then the world would be at Voldemort's mercy." Dumbledore finally put down the jar, and looked at the black haired professor, his expression now serious. "Enough of excuses and diversions, we must make plans to get rid of you realistically, yet as dramatically as possible. People must know that you mean to be gone, for what appears to be ever."
"Right," Snape flopped into a chair, his expression slightly bitter. "What do you suggest? A duel perhaps? Us giving each other a few battle scars?"
"Good idea," Dumbledore conjured a roll of parchment and a luxury eagle feather quill, and wrote 'duel' down as a first point. "And what do you say to a good old-fashioned argument? You could make your accusations, and I could make mine."
"We are not an old married couple!"
"Ah, but close enough I suspect, to carry this off." Dumbledore wrote down 'argument' underneath 'duel'. "I of course will throw your possessions after you, and you will scrabble in the dust to retrieve them cursing at me and shouting alternatively," Dumbledore wrote down 'possessions in the dust'. "Yes. I think that this will work out to be fine."
"You cannot be serious!" No longer able to contain himself, Snape leapt of the chair and pointed his finger accusingly at the Headmaster, face whiter than usual. "What's to stop me in this duel from performing Avada Kedavra? I could kill you in an instant, in front of the entire school, and all because of your foolish plan!" He stared at Dumbledore, his eyes flashing with a strong disbelief at such proposal. The victim of his anger however, merely stared at him, eyes bright and mouth curved upwards into a small smile.
"Because I trust you, Severus."
It was as if Snape had heard the words he had wanted to hear all his life. As quickly as it had come, the anger drained away from his coal black eyes; his intimidating stance becoming noticeably more curved and welcoming. With a defeated air, the ex-Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts master sank back into his seat and began to play with his long white fingers- a sign that he had become to accept the inevitable. "I understand. Let us rehearse what is to be done."
***
"Harry, eat." Hermione wafted a large piece of toast spread with marmalade under Harry's nose, but he didn't take it. Instead he looked at her incredulously, his face twisted with disbelief. Hermione saw this expression, but chose to ignore it. She knew that Harry had a bee in his bonnet about something, but she didn't think her sanity could cope with listening to the same old theory again. Ron had taken a less subtle approach; whenever Harry started an impassioned speech he blatantly yawned in his face and wandered off with Neville or Dean. Hermione stood by Harry through loyalty alone, but she recognised that if she heard another word on either Malfoy or Snape, she like Ron would also make a break for it. She hated to say it, but Harry was getting unbearable. His moods were becoming more and more volatile, and he was becoming obsessed with the smallest thing, as if even the most innocent object or action was created from dark magic.
Malfoy is a Death Eater.
He and Snape are plotting something.
Can't you see it? You're both being so thick! Malfoy is plotting something and Snape wants to help him. Dumbledore trusts Snape because he makes mistakes. He's admitted that before! Even Dumbledore can be wrong sometimes, and this time he must be!
Sure enough, Harry was on the same old spiel. "You expect me to eat? Don't you see Hermione? Malfoy and Snape are plotting something in this castle. We have to stop them, and yet you just sit there and tell me to eat toast!"
Hermione suppressed the urge to scream at him, and carried on calmly with her porridge. She noticed Harry raise his eyebrows with frustration, but didn't say a word. Whatever she said, it would be wrong, or only taken offensively. Harry, seemingly incensed by her silence carried on into another of his rants, screaming at her because she failed to take his view and dive into things as rapidly as him.
"It's all you care about isn't it Hermione? Getting through the days one by one? Well, I'm thinking about the future. I'm trying to stop all the bad stuff that's happening at Hogwarts, and I'm trying to stop everyone from being killed or turned into slaves. You'd be one of the first to go you know! You're Muggleborn so you'll either be tortured and killed, or you'll be forced to join Voldemort's ranks because you're so clever! But if you don't care about any of that, then sure, I'll just sit back and eat my toast."
Although Hermione had heard this speech, or several different versions of it, throughout the whole year it was this one that made her finally snap. "So, what are you trying to say Harry?" She wasn't shouting, but her voice was soft and furious. "Are you going to kill Snape? Is that it? And what if you're wrong? What if Dumbledore and Snape are really working together and you go and ruin their plans? Not so brilliant then, eh Harry?"
"AT LEAST I'M DOING SOMETHING!" Harry was aware that people were staring, but he didn't care. His scar this year was hurting him worse than ever, and it was almost a constant pain. He could feel the overwhelming force of Voldemort get stronger and stronger, and he knew that without the help of Dumbledore it would be no time before the ministry would fall and the true battle between good and evil would begin. His frustration bubbled over as he realised that even his best friends didn't seem to understand that it was all going to happen and it was all going to happen soon. Both Hermione, and Ron in particular, were acting like Voldemort's attack was going to happen in a decade or so. Harry knew differently- Dumbledore's urgency to show him the memories and his now near-constant serious manner showed that the war was now less than a year away. The fact that Hermione wasn't taking his theory entirely seriously irritated him beyond keeping his voice down at the breakfast table. Trying, in vain to hold himself together, Harry lowered his voice to match Hermione's irate whisper. "I never said kill him. That would make me no better than Voldemort. No- I want a confession. I want to save-"
His words were cut off by an echoing bang outside the Great Hall. Already, students were fighting and pushing each other to see the spectacle outside, crazy with panic. Harry stole a fleeting look at Hermione and saw that she was on her feet, as frightened as he was. Not Voldemort. Not already. And not… the thought was stupid, but he couldn't help it. Not during breakfast. "Let me through!" Harry pushed past a small dark haired Hufflepuff who squawked and fell back into Draco Malfoy. Malfoy shoved the boy aside, his pale eyes glittering with malice, and… was that nerves?
"Get out of the way, Potter! We all want to see the show!" He lowered his voice, and stared at Harry face half grinning, half frightened. "Or in your case, is it time for the showdown?"
"Get stuffed Malfoy!" Harry shoved the blond haired boy back with as much force as he could muster, ignoring the cries of get back to your dormitories from the other professors. Grabbing his wand, he pulled open the heavy doors, ready for the fight. He noticed that Hermione had pulled out her own wand, but Ron was nowhere to be seen. Fine. Stuff him.
The sight that greeted every pupils' eyes was not hordes of Death Eaters, but Snape, his hair dishevelled and robes torn, possessions littered around his feet. Clutching his wand, he realised he had an audience and faced them, chest heaving. "Get back to class!"
"Snape, you no longer have any control over my pupils. I again ask you calmly to leave, before I have to unwillingly use force." Dumbledore's voice rang down from the top of a staircase, and students looked from Headmaster to Professor as if watching a tennis match. Harry felt Hermione clutch onto his arm, her voice breathless with fear.
"They're… they're not going to fight are they? Dumbledore's better, but he's so old! And Snape isn't stupid!" Harry ignored her, but clasped his wand all the tighter, getting ready to defend Dumbledore if necessary. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy doing the same, his face more pallid than usual, obviously getting ready to defend Snape. Harry felt his muscles tighten as he resisted the urge to start his own fight.
"Severus Snape, I'm asking you to leave quietly." Dumbledore's voice filtered through the gasps and breathlessness of the audience, his voice calm, yet terrible, his eyes appearing to be made of steel. Snape flinched, and pointed his wand at Dumbledore, voice twisted with bitterness and evil.
"You… can't… get… rid… of…me. Tare-"
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry pointed his wand at Snape who dropped his wand and blasted backwards, skidding along the floor. Breathless and black eyes glinting, he crawled back onto his feet, retrieving his wand as he did so.
"Leave it out, Potter!" Gasping, he turned to face Dumbledore, but Harry stepped forward, wand pointed. He could hear Hermione screaming for him not to do anything, but his desire to protect the Headmaster from harm refused to communicate with the sanity of his actions. Snape saw that Harry had no intention of falling back, so he turned the wand upon him instead. "Back for more? Just like your father. He too was… deluded." Snape lifted his wand, his lips began to move, but a sudden flash of bright light slammed into his side, making his fly full force into a wall. All heads turned towards Dumbledore, whose wand was smoking slightly, the expression of calm completely disappeared.
"Severus, I expect you to be gone by the time the hour has finished. That-" Dumbledore took out a large gold pocket watch out of his robes and studied it. "-Gives you precisely thirteen minutes. I'm sure Minerva will escort you from the grounds." He turned to McGonagall who gave a sharp nod. He then turned to Harry, who was still holding his wand slightly aloft, nervous at what the Headmaster was going to say. Surely he wasn't going to expel him? Not in front of all these people?
"Harry, I would like to see you in my office as soon as you possibly can. Thank you, that's all. Enjoy the rest of your breakfasts." With that, Dumbledore left, leaving students too excited to eat, too busy discussing the latest piece of gossip.
Hermione ran up to Harry and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Harry you were so stupid!" She buried her face into her shoulder, and for a moment he wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying. "But so, so brave!"
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, pulling himself free as gently as possible. "I better go and see why Dumbledore wants me…" Hermione saw the bleak expression on his face, and hurriedly tried to assure him that Dumbledore wasn't going to expel him, not when he had stood up to Snape, and not when it was a time when Harry needed to be so vitally protected. Slightly cheered by this Harry forced out a smile, and started to trudge off towards the Headmaster's office. He reached the stone gargoyle who demanded the password, and Harry realised he didn't know. Only half thinking, he muttered 'Snape' and to his absolute surprise the statue swung open, revealing the winding staircase. Slightly wearily, Harry climbed up the steps, the previous beginnings of lightness completely gone. He had acted stupidly, and now it looked like he was going to pay.
"Harry, come in." Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, not looking too grave, but not looking particularly cheerful either. Harry sat in the chair in front, eyes slightly screwed up in expectation of punishment. He bowed his head, and prepared himself to take Dumbledore's words with the best grace he could. However, when Dumbledore spoke his voice was surprisingly gentle.
"Are you alright?" Harry looked up in surprise- whatever he had been expecting, it hadn't been this.
"Yes… Sir."
"Good." Dumbledore leant forward, his blackened hand fully on show as if he had forgotten it. "Harry, I want to tell you why I sacked Professor, or as I should say, ex-Professor Snape. I know why you think I did. You think I sacked him because he used to be a Death Eater. This is not the case. I sacked Professor Snape because his teaching wasn't up to the required standard. Is that understood? I do not want messages around the school claiming that Severus was trying to sneak Death Eaters into the castle, or that he has returned to Voldemort's legions. Do you understand?"
Harry blinked, half disbelieving. He knew that Dumbledore was hiding something, though it was impossible to work out what it was exactly. Harry had been taught by Snape for the past six years, and although he was biased, horribly unfair, sarcastic, rude and bitter, Harry knew that deep down he had an excellent knowledge of potions and the Dark Arts. Dumbledore would never have sacked Snape for not being up to standard. It was something else, a reason that Dumbledore wanted to keep from Harry for as long as possible. Cautiously, trying not to push the subject too far in case Dumbledore got angry, Harry questioned his motives. "But Sir, if Snape merely wasn't up to standard why was he so angry? He tried to attack you Sir, and…"
Dumbledore held up his blackened hand, an indicator for Harry to speak no further. "You of all people should know that Severus has an unstable temper. I imagine that he took the news rather hard, as he has often been rejected throughout his life." Dumbledore gave a small sigh. "Poor Severus. If only I could help him further. But I cannot. He will have to fight his own demons, and I hope he eventually wins the battle. And now Harry," the Headmaster again looked at his watch. "I think it's time for your first class. Are you sure you're alright?"
Harry said that he was.
"Good. Off you go. Pip pip."
Harry left, his mind racing. Dumbledore was definitely hiding something, something that he didn't want Harry, and evidently, the rest of the school to know. Perhaps he had been right, that Dumbledore had finally realised that Malfoy and Snape were up to something. But then why stand up for him? If Snape was working for Voldemort, Harry would be the first to be told. Angrily, Harry rubbed his scar. Things were going from bad to worse.