Chapter Four The One True Snape

The summer days had very quickly wound down and the evenings were cooling off because of the ever increasing mist that seemed to be invading the countryside. Even at Hogwarts, Hagrid was building a fire early in the evenings out-of-doors and roasting his supper beside the burned out ruins of his home. He was rebuilding it brick-by-brick, stick-by-stick, and sometimes the figure of a rather thin person would come from the school after evening meals and she would help him with the rebuilding. McGonagall had never been much for architecture but then Hagrid's house had always been more charming because of its' eccentricities. As a result, the newly built hut was complete; his old one would be covered by winter snows and then demolished the following Spring. He would have shelter for the winter and he was satisfied.

Sometimes, two other people joined McGonagall. Ron and Hermione would make their way down to the hut and sit beside the camp fire. Mostly they would talk in hushed voices and then stop altogether when their eyes happened to land on the white tomb of Albus Dumbledore sitting starkly against the dark greens of the forest. Thankfully the early evening mist hid it from their eyes.

The evenings were chilly and gloomy, as were their spirits. Ron had not heard from Harry for a fortnight, nor had anyone in the Order. They generally did not discuss Order business even though McGonagall and Hagrid were still doing extra work along with their duties at Hogwarts. Since Lupin had taken over as the leader of the Order, he had been seen at Hogwarts a few times and they were able to get some news which was not the usual tripe printed in the Daily Prophet.

At a certain point, just after Ron and Hermione arrived at school, they'd all sat together and Remus had told them Harry had disappeared. Lupin reminded them that it might be a positive sign. If they couldn't find him, possibly Voldemort and his Death Eaters wouldn't either. Ron and Hermione had expected this but had to act as if it was news.

Later, Ron and Hermione talked about how badly they felt about fooling Remus and Professor McGonagall. After all, they had made the plans with Harry when they had all attended Bill and Fleur Delacour's wedding.

Now, Hermione sat at the fire warming her hands and half-heartedly listened to Hagrid going on about the new first year students and classes and pondered what lay in her pocket. It was a letter from Harry, only just arrived. She had wanted to share it with McGonagall and the others, with Ron and Ginny, until she had read the contents. Now, she was struggling with herself.

Just the year before she had taunted and nagged at Harry for trusting the Potions book written by the Half Blood Prince; had been angry with him for having gone against the rules and using it in Potions class to getting undeserved praise for the work that was not his. She had been certain it was written by a girl and Harry had been sure it was a boy's. It seemed to them that he had been right, it was a male who covered the pages with marks; it had been Snape. Harry told them Snape admitted it on his flight from Hogwarts after killing Dumbledore.

Hermione chided herself many times after that night for always having to be right, for always having to follow the rules when Harry was for breaking them if he thought it necessary. He had been right about Snape and she had been involved in thinking about Ron and Lavender Brown and they had all ignored him.

She felt the guilt once again. She had wanted to believe Snape was on their side. To believe he could betray Hogwarts and Dumbledore shook the world under her feet and left her feeling like she was clinging to a cliff over a bottomless chasm. She had to make the feeling go away. In order to do that she had to do everything in her power to help her friend. You have to stop being naive, Hermione, she told herself, It's going to get you killed.

She fingered the document in her pocket and thought about the realization she'd had over the summer. There were things more important than even school; there was Harry and keeping him alive. Voldemort was after him. After more than five years it was time to be serious about it. They were all in danger; but no one more than he. It had never been more clear than the morning of Dumbledore's funeral when she watched the Headmaster's body being entombed. If such a powerful wizard could be killed then they were all vulnerable, something she had really never given credence too.

Hermione studied the faces of the people sitting around the fire. She was questioning what it was all about, what her life was going to be like if she turned her back on her friends; something she didn't think she could do even if it might mean her life.

She fingered the letter and studied the flames leaping from the logs in the fire at her feet and thought about it. What she held of value, her principles and her beliefs were also was in jeopardy. Harry was asking something of her; something she wasn't sure she was capable of doing, and he wasn't even giving her a reason for doing it. He not only wanted her to break the rules, he wanted her to commit a criminal act.

But criminal acts were taking place all around them and they were losing the battle against Voldemort who seemed to move through the wizarding world like the figure of Death itself. Everywhere they turned, another person, another group of wizards had been killed, disappeared or in someway compromised. Like Stan Shunpike, they were being imprisoned without trial. People were afraid and turning against each other, doing Voldemort's work for him. No one knew if their neighbor had been Imperiused. She was terrified. People she didn't know were dying and it hadn't touched her. Then, suddenly it was people she did know that were dying and she didn't want it to be Harry, any of the Weasley's or her friends. She didn't want it to be anyone else, she wanted it to stop.

She glanced over at McGonagall and then finally made up her mind. Giving excuses, she bid them goodnight and left them at the campfire to return to the school. She made excuses for Ron not to follow.

She passed the Memorial in the mist and didn't notice a spectral dark figure was standing in front of it. They were on opposite sides of the white stone which towered between them. Like two ships passing in the night, neither was aware of the other.

The other person who stood in front of the tomb was tall, dressed in black robes; his hair hung lifeless around his face.. He stood still and contemplated the words engraved on the face of the stone. It was Snape.

Snape listened to the muffled voices of the people at the campfire. He gazed at the stone without speaking. His eyes shifted once to the white towers catching the last rays of the setting sun and piercing the gray swirls of mist like dismembered golden fingers reaching into the indigo sky above. Darkness came quickly on the floor of the valley beneath the shroud of mist and Snape moved away silently through the grass, his robe trailing behind him. He walked with his head bent and his shoulders sagging.

If someone were watching they would wonder in astonishment at the presence of the murderer visiting his victim's grave. They might wonder even more at his demeanor. He did not walk with the familiar aristocratic gait of the Potion's Master Harry and Ron and Hermione knew. This man walked like a man bent with grief and sorrow; a man in pain. He disappeared into the lane running near the forest and past the gates where the two Boars stood as guardians. He walked through the gates without appearing to be troubled by the incantations and protective spells guarding the boundaries. He was still taking long slow strides into the darkness when he disappeared.

Inside the castle, Hermione made her way to the another set of guardians. These were the gargoyles guarding the staircase to Dumbledore's office which now sat empty. She looked up and down the corridor and then spoke softly, hoping no one had changed the passwords since his death.

But they had been changed. Hermione knew McGonagall was not using the office and had sealed it. She would have also changed the words needed to get in and they weren't going to be the name of some kind of sweet.

Hermione stepped from foot to foot and chewed on her lip in anxiety. How to get in? she pondered. You didn't make it easy, Harry. She talked to him silently as she studied the gargoyles and thought about it and tried again. After the third try, the staircase swung wide and allowed her admittance. She smiled to herself. She liked solving puzzles.

Actually, what she was trying to do was not think about the task laying ahead. Harry was asking her to do this task because there were few others with enough skills to get past McGonagall's seals on the door, take the objects and make sure the portraits on the walls did not tell what they had seen.

The door was another formidable obstacle when she finally got to the top of the stairs. McGonagall had transfigured the doors into vault doors that had a mouth. When she arrived in front of it, it startled her by asking her a question.

In a very low, grumbling voice, like boulders grinding together, it said, "This office is restricted to outsiders. If you wish to pass you must answer the questions set before you correctly. Any false answer will set off an alarm throughout the school and you will immediately be apprehended. Are you ready to answer the first question?"

Hermione swallowed hard and thought about retreating down the stairs. The door must have surmised her intentions and declared, "If you leave without answering the first question an alarm will sound and you will immediately be apprehended."

Well that takes care of that, she thought, I'm trapped. "Very well, ask your first question," she said clearly and wrung her hands. This was her worst nightmare come true. Ever since she had studied boggarts in Lupin's class she had been aware of her intense fear of failure. Now it would all come to an end if the door sounded the alarm; she would most certainly be expelled for trying to break into the office. At the least, she would betray Professor McGonagall's trust, which of course she was doing. She just hoped the teacher would never know it was she who had done it.

The doors spoke, "In the book, Hogwarts: A History, on page 4,678, it states that Tilly Toke was the hero of theMcCombe incident…."

Hermione listened to the question and her anxiety disappeared and was replaced with excitement. I know this! she thought. I can do this. Oh Harry, you'd be so proud of me!

She answered all 114 questions correctly and the doors opened. Using the same substance Draco had used the night of Dumbledore's death, a substance he had bought from Fred and George Weasley, Hermione spread the instant darkness out so that she was the only one in the room who could see with just the tip of her wand shining. She grasped the two objects and was surprised when they gave way easily. She had half expected both to have a sticking charm on them. With one glance over her shoulder she hurried from the room, a feeling of triumph pumping adrenaline through her.

It was only the next morning at breakfast when McGonagall stood and faced the morning assembly of students and pronounced that Dumbledore's office had been broken into and two objects of great value taken, that Hermione was suddenly feeling the throes of guilt. She tried to arrange her face to look as surprised as Ron and everyone else at the Gryffindor table, but it was almost impossible when McGonagall's eyes swept the room and rested on her.

Hermione tried to quell her feelings by thinking about the letter and what Harry had told her. The evening before after stealing the objects she had followed his instructions explicitly. It had not been hard going to the seventh floor after the theft, walking past the hidden door to the Room of Requirement and saying three times, "I need to hide something, I need to hide something…" The door appeared instantaneously.

She walked into the room just as Harry described it and had seen the endless clutter and stacks of things that Harry had seen when he had hidden the Potion's book. She found her way through the alleys and found the statue with the wig and the tiara just where he said it would be. She glanced at the Half Blood Prince's potion's book hidden in the cage along with the bones and dropped Godric Gryffindor's sword and the Sorting Hat in beside it.

She took two steps away from it and then turned back and picked up the book and started flipping through it, noting the date of publishing at the beginning.

"Half Blood Prince!" she whispered in disgust. "This book is too old to be yours Snape. It had to have been your mother's. She was the brilliant potions maker wasn't she? And you took credit for her work and added a piece of your own foul magic!" She was thinking of the spell Harry had accidentally used on Draco Malfoy. "Yes, that one is more like you, isn't it Snape? I don't think Harry believed me when I said it was your mother's."

She contemplated the book resting in her hand, looking at it as if it could speak and answer her questions.

Once picked up, she found she could not easily put it down again. She had never willingly put down any book without reading it first. She read the entire book, handwritten passages and all within the hour. Hermione sat the book back in the exact position she found it and left. She was more convinced then ever that a woman had written it and Harry was wrong, even when Snape claimed to be the Half Blood Prince. The conundrum mystified her and helped her stare back into McGonagall's cool stare the next morning at breakfast with at least some degree of aplomb.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron exclaimed. Most of the students were dumbfounded by the news of the theft. "Who could've? I mean do you think there are Death Eaters in Hogwarts?" He studied her expression and his eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "It was you…."

"Shush, Ron," she said under her breath. He dipped his head and stared at the table, the back of his neck turning red with anxiety.

McGonagall raised her voice to hush the crowd of whispering, panicked students. "We believe this is not the work of Death Eaters or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We believe this is the work of a student." She looked again at Hermione and then her gaze wandered away. "If we find the student responsible there will be dire consequences for such actions. However, if the items are returned to my office today before evening meal I will not take any further action. You are now dismissed and may go to your classes. "

They all started to stumble away from the house tales and head for classes when Hermione heard McGonagall's voice call out to her. "Miss Granger may I have a word with you please?"

"Hermione, do you think…" he gulped, "do you think she knows?" Ron asked with Ginny peering at her quizzically.

"Knows what, Ron?." She tried to sound innocent and her lie seemed to satisfy Ron. She wasn't sure that would be true for McGonagall.

Ginny on the other hand studied her face and then turned slowly and packed a bag and whispered without moving her lips. "Has he contacted you? Did you do it? Did you steal something out of Dumbledore's office? If it was to help Harry then I would have done it."

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded parchment and slipped it into Ginny's bag as she headed up to the head table. "Please don't say anything to anyone."

Ginny nodded and shouldered her pack and left the great hall.

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione stood before McGonagall and gritted her teeth. I have to lie to her, she thought, I have to.

…...

At about the same time and not far from Hogwarts, in a countryside inn, Harry sat at a table in a sparsely furnished room, the contents of his meal left on the table. There was a fire burning in the grate, even though it was only late August. His eyes drifted over the room. It was clean and neat, but very poor. He didn't care, it suited his new identity and it was no more or less than what he had lived with all his life. His mind was not on the room, but on the things he had seen and overheard at the Riddle Mansion.

Just as he was climbing the rotting stairway in the weak light of three windows that lined the opposite wall, Harry heard voices coming from somewhere on an upper floor. He thanked Dumbledore silently for encouraging him to carry his invisibility cloak with him at all times and dug it out quickly. He hurried up the stairs almost on tiptoe and glanced back periodically to wipe out the imprints of his shoe on the thick dust of the steps.

The voices emanated from a room on the third floor where candlelight shone on a dark somber paneled hallway. All the doorways leading off the hall were dark with one exception. The house was silent and not a living breathing residence where mice scurried or birds chirped in the attic. This house was silent like a tomb except for the voices.

"He says to keep the boy 'ere," one grumbled. "Don' look like the kids in any shape to do nuthin'. I says we jus' leave 'im for a bit and go have a pint."

"You go if you like but Snape would kill us on the spot for leaving the boy alone. He said to watch him and that's what we're gonna do. This here's Malfoy's boy. I don' know where the lad's da is but I'm taking no chances. I don't want Snape or Malfoy after me," the other man argued. "He says the boy's important, so I'm gonna watch him like he was the Dark Lord's own."

Harry could feel his ears almost perk up at the sound of the names, particularly at hearing Snape's name. He could even feel himself grow angry.

"Alright, alright," the other answered back. "But I'm itchin' to get outta here. What's wrong wid the boy anyhow?"

Harry heard the other mumble something and he inched forward down the hall feeling the floor with his foot and hoping there were no obstacles to get in his way. The light was so dim it could have been night. He was thankful for his invisibility cloak.

"...Snape returns and then we can leave." The deeper voice was speaking and Harry was able to peek through the crack in the door and see someone standing at a window. This was the man speaking.

"What's he gonna use 'im for?" the less articulate one asked.

"I keep telling you Percell, it ain't our business," the other answered gruffly. "That Snape gives me the creeps and I don't want to cross him."

"Alright, alright!" The man who was in the room out of view growled.

Harry held his breath and tried to maneuver so he could see Draco. The crack was too small to view anything but a sliver of the room. He was just about to step around the edge of the door and actually enter the room when he heard the soft, almost cat-like padding footsteps, coming from behind him. He froze, held his breath and closed his eyes.

Harry had learned something important over the months since the attack at Hogwarts. If it was Snape, then he could be in danger by allowing even his thoughts to be unguarded. He had been practicing occlumency among other things. As the footsteps neared his position he slowly took a breath and studied the faded and stained wallpaper of the room in which he was peering. He studied the pink rose and the green leaf that looked almost like mold instead of a leaf.

The presence of his previous Potion's master filled the space. Harry didn't have to turn to look. He could smell the oily odor of the man's greasy hair and the mingled smells of old potion ingredients clinging to his clothes and skin. Harry swallowed silently and waited. The man passed him and entered the room.

"Ah, Mr. Snape," the voice of the speaker sounded servile and menial. "We's just been wondering how you was gettin' on. The boy 'ere is jus' fine as you kin see for yerself, jus' fine."

"Will you be needing us anymore tonight?" the one at the window asked.

"No, leave me," Snape growled in his deep throaty voice.

Harry stepped aside and flattened himself against the wall to avoid the two scurrying out of the room. They moved quickly and glanced at each other and back once before hightailing it down the short length of hallway and down the flight of stairs.

Harry turned his eye back to the crack in the door. He could hear the faint rustling of Snape's cloak as he moved. This time he was able to adjust his position to catch Snape's figure but not Draco's. He assumed Snape was sitting down in front of Draco. The man leaned forward and gazed at something as if it were an interesting bug crawling on the wall.

"Draco," Snape said quietly, "look into my eyes."

Harry knew exactly what the man was doing. Snape was trying Legilimency with Draco. It also appeared Snape was having difficulty getting into Draco's mind.

"Tell me Draco," Snape coaxed with a soothing voice. "Tell me what happened the night Dumbledore was killed. Who was in the tower with you?" Harry caught sight of Snape's face and his frown. "Tell me what happened? The Dark Lord killed Dumbledore and then you fled down the stairs. Who did you see?"

Harry was also frowning. His automatic reaction in the presence of Snape was to grasp his wand even tighter and to bite his lip hard. It was all he could do not to turn the wand on the man and kill him. He desperately wanted to, but he also wanted to spy on him. The words Snape was saying were barely sinking in, but they did sink in. Why is he asking him that? he wondered. He was there! He was the one who killed Albus, not Voldemort!

There was a muffled groan and words, almost unintelligible words from the unseen Draco.

"Say it again, Draco," Snape urged.

"It hurts," came the voice Harry recognized as Draco. "The Dark Lord forbids me to speak. I cannot tell you."

Snape sat back and studied the person across from him and then withdrew his wand.

"Draco, I am going to remove the memory from your mind. When it is done you will be at peace, but it will hurt when I do it. If you let me, tell me that I can remove it and do it willingly, it will not hurt as much." Harry could see a small vial in his other hand. it was similar to the one's Albus had used to carry the memories he had shown him.

"No, no," came the weak reply. "It will kill me!"

Snape extended the wand and shook his head. "No, Draco it won't kill you. Just do not struggle and it will soon be done."

Harry could not see the tip of the wand, nor hear the incantation Snape used. What he did hear was an ear wrenching scream of agony. For the first and only time since meeting Malfoy, Harry felt sorry for him. The sound of that scream was the sound of a tormented, tortured person. Harry watched in fascination as Snape was thrown back against his chair, his wand still extended but a burning red fire was dancing up his wand and arm and appeared to be causing him excruciating pain. He struggled and finally brought up his other hand and was able to push his wand down towards the ground. Once it was no longer pointing at Draco the red flaming sparks dissipated. Snape's arm smoked and he was grasping it as if in great pain. He looked at Draco with a stunned expression on his face.

Harry watched with confusion. What is going on here? he wondered.

"Draco?" Snape gasped, his eyes narrowing. "My Lord?"

A harsh, snarling voice spoke out loudly, "The boy is no longer here, Severus. He is but a instrument for me; he watches where I cannot watch, he goes where I cannot go." Snape was still bent and holding his arm. The voice continued. "I have waited a long time to catch you in your treachery Severus. Your lies have been very believable, to most people that is, but not to me. When you did not kill the mother..." Draco must have been gesturing because there was a moment of silence, "...I knew then you had abandoned me. It was a test you see." This time Harry saw Draco walk around Snape and to the window. "I do not trust anyone Severus. I possessed the boy's mind knowing you have favored him, mentored him. I thought if you were to give yourself away, it would be with him."

Snape had dropped his head and murmured, "Lord, I beg you..."

Draco turned and laughed heartlessly, "Are you going to beg for your life, Severus?" The boy's face was twisted into a ghoulish gleeful grin. "Oh please do! That would be so entertaining."

Snape remained silent and Harry could see his hand tighten on his wand. He knew Snape would never make it. Draco had already withdrawn a wand and was pointing it at the man. The only chance Snape had was for Harry to stop Draco. It would kill Draco but not the Dark Lord and Snape would hesitate. Harry pointed his wand through the crack in the door, his chest pounding with a mixture of emotions and watched the boy's face. Harry would have to stop this.

"I must kill you," Draco said calmly. "I must kill everyone who stands in my way. I have already killed the only wizard who ever had a chance to harm me. But I believe you are very clever Severus and I would not want you out there in the world if you are not loyal to me. That would be foolishness indeed. And it is sad really. Your mother was very loyal to me. I wish you were more like her."

Snape's head came up and there was a deadly look in his eyes. Draco raised his arm and opened his mouth to speak. Harry pointed his wand and without speaking aloud, formed the words for the curse in his mind. A lightening bolt of orange light struck Malfoy in his chest and sent him flying against the wall. Harry stepped around the edge of the door, pulled the cloak off and pointed his wand at Snape. "Make a move and I will kill you," he said and Snape knew he meant it.

…...

Hermione stood waiting for McGonagall to reprimand her; tell her that she was very aware she had stolen the Sorting Hat and Gryffindor's sword and that she could pack her belongings and leave Hogwarts. Instead, the woman studied her intensely and then sat down at one of the empty benches in the Hall. It was now empty of people.

"Hermione, I'd like to place my trust in you for a short period of time," McGonagall was saying.

"Alright," Hermione started. "Of course you can."

"Professor Slughorn has disappeared. I have not heard from him and I am fearing the worst," McGonagall was nervously straightening her skirt and ironing it out nervously with her palms. "I have no one to teach the potions class and I thought if you were interested, you might be willing to stand in for him for a few days until I find a substitute. They are in short supply right now, but I should find someone soon. You would only have to teach two classes; the first and second year students."

Hermione sat down at the bench and looked her in astonishment. "Me, Professor?"

Hermione could tell McGonagall struggled to give her a small smile. "Yes, you, Miss Gran... Really, Hermione why are you so surprised? You are a skilled and talented witch. You've shown that you can take charge and many students have applauded you as their Prefect. I'm only asking you do this for a short time. I believe you are qualified to do what is needed."

Hermione was nodding in agreement to the request while all the time thinking about how she had just committed an act that would not only make her lose favor with her favorite teacher but would mean the end of her school days, possibly any career she might want to have; and, might even land her in Azkaban or some equivalent to it. "Yes, yes, Professor, I'd be glad to help out."

McGonagall stood. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. I will of course credit you and arrange for your teachers to lighten your own workload. I have so many things to concern myself about at this minute... ." Her eyes drifted off and she was unconsciously wringing her hands. She continued midsentence, "then this theft and Professor Slughorn's disappearance. I don't think the school can stand any more." The last was said and then McGonagall became aware of who she was talking to and straightened perceptibly. "Very well, Miss. Granger. Let us go to my office and I will give you the course schedule."