~Tuesday 1 December – Late
Avery.
He was my first thought upon waking this morning. Today was the date of his trial. Today would find out...
I tried to shut him out of my mind, but I couldn't manage to do it. As I dressed for the day, I recalled all the times in my seventh year when I would get ready to attend the clandestine meetings with the Death Eaters long before I had even become one. It was Avery who had always fought so hard for our inclusion at such events. It was Avery who insisted we go - convincing us of how great it all was.
He wanted nothing more than to join the Death Eaters. It sounded so perfect at the time. We would be a part of something powerful. It sickens me to remember how much I wanted it. I sensed danger yes, but I saw it as a way of getting revenge upon all those who had slighted me. I would be a part of something - finally.
In truth I didn't care about their cause as much as the others. I wanted to believe... I wanted so much to believe in something. Still I couldn't help but to feel such doubt about it all. Avery spoke so highly of the Death Eaters - of him, but I knew in the end it would be nothing more than a another empty just group as The Slug Club had been. Nothing more than people talking and showing off.
Avery's father - all of their fathers had been friends with him. Back then I only knew him then as the one in charge of the Death Eaters. I hadn't seen him yet, and I didn't understand the fascination. All I knew was that he had once worked for Borgin and Burkes.
Stupid. All of it was, me most of all. I knew no other life. They were the only family I ever knew. So when Avery extended the invitation, I gladly accepted.
I remember standing in my room - all those late Friday evenings in the dead of winter. How I would stare out the window - at what always it seemed to be the same sky. The burning red sunset as it cut through the icy gray clouds - only to be pierced by the bare limbs of trees as that sun sank lower, disappearing into the darkness of The Forbidden Forrest. We would soon follow, disappearing even further into those woods, just outside of Hogsmeade. Every time I felt such exhilaration and fear all the same at the thought of going - sneaking off school grounds and being with them... Every time I would wear the coat that she had given to me. I loved that coat, but in truth I had no choice but to wear it. I had to look a certain way...
For nearly seven years we had been friends and Avery had never once said a word about it. Once he began spending time in their midst - my blood status, my impoverished family and my clothing had become a problem.
I will never forget that conversation. Avery was talking excitedly about the upcoming meeting - it was to be our first one. Suddenly he stopped laughing – not completely but just enough to show me that he was serious. "Snape", he said to me, he was still smiling - just the way he would when he wanted to be charming, "I've been meaning to talk to you. You will always be one of us, and you're going with us of course, But…"
But my clothes…. but everything.
And then she stepped in, his cousin Tisiphone - Death Eater Fairy Godmother as it were... no, she was no more a Death Eater than Evan - that was a cruel thing to think. At any rate, she gave me the most exquisite black silk brocade coat for my birthday. It was far too beautiful a thing for me. I no longer have it. I'm fairly certain I left it in Spinner's End… with my mother. My poor mother...
By the time I'd reached the staff room I'd nearly forgotten Avery as I was so consumed by thoughts of my mother. It had been some time since I had really thought about her. I try not to. It is too painful to remember, for she was all but lost to me a long time ago.
She started to act differently when I was thirteen. I was frightened at first but I slowly began to realize that there had been signs for a long time - I just hadn't wanted to see them. I would try to spend more time with Lily. Just to look upon her sweet face was enough to lift my spirits...
I'd meet her in the playground or we would play by the river. I'd go to her house sometimes, but it always felt so wrong. Their home was so clean, and her mother and father were so friendly. It was so unlike my own home that it made me feel very uncomfortable. Even her rude sister - I never had a brother or sister...
Her parents were always kind to me, and though they would never say so - I could tell they didn't want me spending too much time with her. They accepted her magical ability, but it was different with me. Part of it I knew was just a father's reaction to my having been a boy - which in a way made me feel even more uncomfortable. In the end, even if they had invited me – I rarely stayed for dinner. I knew it wasn't right for me to stay. In a way, sometimes I feel I am glad that I did go home so often... Though I had not known it, my time with my mother had been running out.
By the time I was fifteen - my mother barely ever spoke. She listen to you, she'd nod and smile politely. Even though she was almost entirely mute, there was still life behind her eyes. That was over by the time I turned sixteen. She would spend hours just staring into space. I was angry with her for so long, because I wanted her to protect me. When she stopped talking all together, in many ways my feelings intensified. I tried to talk to her... I tried, but she never responded – not to me. He would come home from work or the bar – drunk, angry – it didn't matter. Her face would light up when he entered the room. No matter what the case, she would run to him - even though I tried to stop her…
Just another woman that I failed to protect.
And that one... him. He screamed, spat, threw things, kicked doors… I once thought to fix the one through which he had kicked a hole, but I was too afraid of the consequences. So I went for years and years hating Muggles. Our people weren't like that. Lily wasn't, my mother wasn't. Why didn't I see the warnings in our kind? Did I really think that when Avery and Mulciber began threatening Tisiphone that things would end differently? Mary McDonald had it coming, so they said. I wasn't there, so I had to take them at their word. In those final weeks of school, Avery became almost indistinguishable form my father, kicking, screaming and making threats. We all came to fear him – Avery, his father, Lucius – Rodolphus, Evan's Father, Jocasta Carrow – the whole lot of them.
The older generation, was so proud of their young protégés – singing their praises as the years of the war progressed. Tales of their terror became legendary. The stories and the acts behind them were meant for everyone to hear - as a warning. Avery and Mulciber set an example of what would happen if one dared crossed The Death Eaters or The Dark Lord himself. There is not a witch or wizard who hasn't heard about Avery, standing by calm and collected - giving orders while Mulciber took his time with the family of a witch who once tried to defect.
He will get away with it. They always do. And if there was any doubt in my mind of this fact, my feelings were only reinforced by what was printed in The Prophet this morning. Karkaroff was released from Azkaban yesterday. His freedom was bought by Friday's conviction of Augustus Rookwood. What exactly did Rookwood do? Could his guilt really have been any greater then Igor's? Was my guilt any less then those that I accused? This isn't justice - it is just plain sickening.
I was getting agitated. I knew I would have to control myself, so over breakfast I spoke with Minerva McGonagall about Saturday's Quidditch Match. I had the presence of mind at least, to not bring up her reactions, or her past when she was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team - so our conversation was subdued and peaceful enough to take my mind from Avery and my mother.
I taught my morning class and tried to ignore what was going on outside the walls of my classroom. It wasn't easy, and I wasn't entirely successful. At lunch I was painfully aware of Dumbledore's absence. But then I remembered - my afternoon class consisted of fifth year Slytherins and Gryfindors. Elisa Deverille and Andre Boyle would be present and I am always pleased to see them, but there was some one else I wanted to see even more...
When I got to the Potions Classroom, I searched through a stack of parchment looking for the class roster. I scanned the list and cursed myself for not bothering to ever take role - so unexperienced and unprepared I am - but as I neared the end of the names I found what I'd been looking for - Stanhope, Vrennon. So he is still here.
I let the class into the room. I thought to call role in order to find him, but then I realized how awkward it would be for me to do so after all these weeks of having not called role. I felt so foolish and ashamed, then suddenly I realized there was no need to call role - for there he was hiding in the back row. I'd never taken notice of him I suppose, because that beast of a girl with the auburn hair whom I have seen so often with Joan Ogden sits beside him. I've always done my best to avoid her horrid gaze. Vrennon had also changed quite a bit since my seventh year. His dark brown hair was much longer, and like me, he hung his head and hid behind his long locks. Yet - completely unlike me, he is still a decent looking boy. I was so puzzled, for he seemed to still have the athletic build of a Seeker and he didn't seem to be injured, so why wasn't he playing? He looked so despondent and then it hit me – dear God he's lost someone.
I gave the class their assignments and then took That issue of The Prophet from the shelf where I'd been hiding it these past few days. It pained me to do it - to see her name again, but I had to do it. I read through every list of the missing and the dead... No Stanhopes listed anywhere. A friend perhaps? It could have been anyone. I felt sick as I walked out among the students. I checked on his Draught of Peace... He did as well as one could have expected for such a difficult brew, but when I told him he'd done well - he seemed almost as distant as my mother. Awful.
The class ended, and as usual Andre stayed late to ensure that all of the other students had cleaned up after themselves. I thought to ask him about Vrennon, but… perhaps another day. I didn't feel right doing so, for obvious reasons - and for reasons I am not fully able to explain. There is something about Andre I can't quite place. Something familiar - but he was never on the Quidditch team. I must have seen him in the Common Room when I was in my seventh year I suppose. They all look familiar - I don't know... It is all too much.
I knew it was wrong of me, but after he'd left, I went up to Dumbledore's office. It was still early, so I wasn't surprised when I entered the room and found it to be empty. Most of the portraits seemed to be present and pretending to sleep, but this time Phineas was gone. Of course, Nereus Avery was a Slytherin and so Phineas would want to witness the trial… So it was not yet over.
I was growing agitated. I paced about the room – I'm not sure what made me think of it, but the date came into my mind. December – it is December. It has been a month now. The familiar stabbing pains of guilt nearly caused me to fall to my knees, but just then I noticed Dylis looking down at me through one half closed eye. Dylis Derwent – I remember now, she defended me in those days when I sat, paralyzed by my grief.
I took several deep breaths to calm myself. Because of her, because of everything that had happened – I was determined to remain calm. Pacing his office was not helping me – not with a full audience. I went back to my room to wait for him.
I was too preoccupied to read, so I thought to play Joan Sutherland's "Lucia di Lammermoor". Just as Maria's version had done, the music eased my mind - taking the edge off of my anxiety. As I lay back across my bed, it occurred to me then how wrong it was that I had no books or records of my own. I had once owned books - I even had a few records... but I left nearly everything that I had owned in their house in Spinner's End - and I certainly cannot go back there. I'd hate to disturb her now. She has likely forgotten me completely. And if he saw me now after all of these years… God I don't even want to know what he would do.
I was getting upset again, thinking of how ridiculous it all was. I could silence him, I could stun him - I could do far worse to him with a mere thought. I could do this. I am capable of it - I always was, but I never could do it when it mattered. After all, I failed time and again to properly defend myself against Potter and the others. Sometimes I think the only thing I know how to do in battle is to give up. That is all he ever taught me.
I was so upset with myself when a soaring note escaped her lips pulling me instantly from my spiraling fears and back into the present. I sat straight up in my bed. I was so captivated by the melody. Her voice – all of their voices. It was incredible - the six voices all coming together to form such a powerful harmony. It sent chills down my spine. The warmth of their voices wrapping around each other filled the room with heat and light. The tension between them - strings, the chorus all rising toward crescendo -
And I knew then what I had to do with my first payment. Forget the winter coat I had coveted - I must buy records. Books I can borrow from the library for the time being, but I cannot live with out music.
I listened to the whole of the first record and half of the second, telling myself I would leave the last half for when I returned from Dumbledore's Office – no matter what the outcome of the trial. The music still filled my head as I walked the stairs up to his office, -the melodies I do not yet fully know all blended together. It was actually quite lovely.
I knocked on the door. No answer, but as I pushed open the door, I found that Dumbledore was in fact in the office. "Sir"?
"Severus, forgive me I did not hear you knock. Please come in." He was being sincere. He nearly leapt up from behind his desk when he saw me.
"He got off, didn't he..." I looked down at the carpet. I kicked at the pattern as I had done so many weeks ago. I already knew after all. There was no point in holding my head up for the answer.
"I'm afraid so," he said solemnly, "He was cleared of all charges."
"What happened?" I only asked this in frustration - I even sounded like a child when I spoke for already I knew that answer as well.
"There was quite a lot of evidence against Nereus Avery. As I'm sure you are aware, he often boasted of the crimes that he committed." Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and sighed heavily. He seemed upset for once. I had always assumed that like Crouch, he didn't care who was convicted. "It was a very long trial, both sides argued fervently for hours. In the end, Avery broke down. He was in tears as he told the Wizengamot that he had been under the Imperious Curse the entire time."
Oh dear God, "Mulciber."
"Yes," he said, finally looking up at me, "That is who blamed for having placed the curse upon him."
Of course he did. Because everyone knows how skilled Mulciber was at using the Imperious Curse. It was his specialty - they say he was one of the best. In turn, Avery was so gifted when it came to charming people into believing he was something that he was not. In one instant he is your friend, smiling and making jokes with you - and in the next instant he would be furious with you for having committed some trivial act you that never saw as offensive. Then he would scream insults and threaten you with Mulciber's brutality, because that is who he really was - an angry tyrant with no fuse.
Avery fooled everyone. His smiles were all an act, just as his tears before the Ministry had been. "So he is free now?"
"Yes, Severus." There was a pause after Dumbledore had spoken after which I am sure he was expecting me to question him further about the fate of Nereus Avery.
I was expecting the same thing myself, but the next words that escaped my lips had nothing to do with Nereus Avery. "Sir, I was wondering if perhaps you might permit me to make a few purchases."
He raised an eyebrow at me - clearly I had caught him off guard. "Certainly Severus, what is it that you need?"
What is it that I need? He would have been expecting me to ask for books or potion ingredients. He would expect me to ask for clothing or at least a new set of cauldrons. How would he react when I ask him for records, I thought. I was already on probation with him for all that I had done. Surely, to ask such a childish request of him would have been highly condemned. But since he already did not trust me, what more did I have to lose?
"Sir, with your permission," in shame, my already quiet voice dropped to a whisper, "I would like to purchase a few records from a shop in Muggle London… if you will accompany me…"
Dumbledore's face broke into such a grin as I had not seen from him years. "Severus, I am delighted to hear you ask that. Music is a form of magic that transcends all manner of people and creatures. It is more powerful than any spell the greatest witch or wizard could ever conjure. I would gladly accompany you. In fact, it has been some time since I myself have purchased Muggle records and I think that it is high time that I do."
Why was I surprised by his reaction? It was so like Dumbledore to respond in such a way. It took me a moment to notice it, but I was smiling. "Thank you sir."
Still grinning from ear to ear, with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy he said, "Would tomorrow be a good day for you? We can meet here after your classes have finished for the day."
Not only was he going to allow me to purchase records, he was allowing me to do so the next day... I thanked him and agreed to meet him in his office tomorrow.
I am back in my room now. I have been listening to "Lucia", and what impeccable timing I have because it is nearly time to put on the third and final record. There, I feel sorry for Muggles. It must be irritating to not have the use of Hover charms. I can't imagine having to get up every time one needs to turn over the record. How that must break up the continuity…
The Mad Scene - and with it the tension in the music is powerful enough to touch with one's outstretched hands… Sadly, this is such a fitting backdrop for all that has occurred. "Lucia di Lammermoor" is a tragedy after all. The images of the action on stage fill my head. Yet even as they do - I feel I can see reality all the clearer. Avery was freed from the fate of an Azkaban prisoner, and yet – he is not at all free. Not after what he has done. He blamed Mulciber - he betrayed his best friend!
I hated having to lie about Evan during my trial. I hate myself for having blamed him for Avery's cruel actions. I was forced to do so as per Dumbledore's orders - but there is no way Avery was told to name Mulciber - not when Mulciber's father was one of the people who had been attempting get him acquitted. How could Avery willing do such a thing after what passed between them? Avery ordered Mulciber around, and he in turn obeyed Avery's every command. How would Mulciber respond if ever he was ever set free? He is one of the least forgiving people I have ever met! Mulciber was Avery's strength, what could he possibly do in the face of a vengeful William Mulciber?
Even now - what power does Nereus have with out Mulciber? None. He wept to secure his release. He displayed a profound weakness in the face of his father and Mulciber's father - all of them. I am certain his actions were not a part of their plan at all. They will be angry with him over this for a very long time. With out the older generation behind him, with out Mulciber acting as his arm – he has nothing left.
I do not feel sorry for him. In fact am darkly satisfied by this turn of events. And did I not feel sorry for Mulciber just a few days ago? What sympathy I once had for him is gone. I hope he does suffer. I hope Azkaban turns him all the more vicious. I hope he finds out. I hope he gets out one day, for he will surely exact his revenge on Avery. Let my enemies devour one another…
Poor Lucia - used mercilessly by her brother, driven to madness… Lost to the blind hatred of all the terrible men around her. Lost. Just like all of the women that I ever cared about – and I one saw until it was too late –
It's not too late - I must remind myself of this. Minerva McGonagall. I have made up my mind. Tomorrow – we can speak at length about our preferences. There. Today was not a total loss.
No, I am wrong. There has been a loss - the most unbearable loss of them all... for it has been one month. One month gone. Four weeks gone. Thirty one days gone. Would that it were me...
Lily. Forgive me.
How dare I ask such a thing - or even to think upon her. I must not - for if I allow my thoughts to stray, I will fall apart.
~Wednesday 2 December – Early Morning, cold bright sunlight
I just woke up from the strangest dream. The images were so lush and so vivid. Even now it all seems so real. Again, the opera... all of us were the characters but there was something odd to it. Avery was Enrico, which makes such perfect sense for he was a controlling barbarian of a brother, only Avery was her cousin. In that sense then, Tisiphone as Lucia made sense as well - but Evan as Arturo and myself as Edgardo, that made no sense to me at all. But still there is something to it that I can't quite… no.
It was only a dream. It was nice though, even though I know how it would have ended. All right. Today I finally will have something pleasant too look forward to, so long as I overlook the fact that I will have Dumbledore holding my hand the whole time… Once the act is done, I will have music back in my life. I will have friends…
~Wednesday 2 December – Late Night in My Room
"Misty Mountain Top," Why? I had no intentions of actually listening to "Led Zeppelin IV" when I bought it this evening, but as it was with her – I could not resist.
Today was intense. Not in a bad way - but the level of intimacy between myself and others - even just a few words is enough to overwhelm me…
The paper this morning greatly upset me as well. Avery's face of course graced the cover. Sickening. He smiled, being that he was a free man. I looked at his hands – his unshackled hands. I thought about Mulciber in his bindings and then I saw it – or rather, I did not see it. The serpent ring. He wasn't wearing it. I had a thought - I was almost certain of my suspicions. Still I ran to the library to check the old copy of The Prophet before class. Sure enough, Mulciber as well was not wearing his ring – our ring. The six silver serpent rings that Evan had stolen for us… Evan always wore his, Wilkes and Tisiphone I know never took theirs off either. I myself, though I hate wearing jewelry frequently wore mine. It meant so much to me to be a part of something.
Why had those two stopped wearing their rings? The Serpent holding it's tail in it's mouth – it was a symbol of Slytherin. It was our House - it was everything.
Of course they stopped wearing them. Their loyalty changed. Their loyalty to the skull and the serpent burnt upon their arms was far stronger than any ties they had to our group. Once Evan and the rest of us had shamed them - they would have wanted to distance themselves from us as much as possible.
Just before we left school, the older generation and The Dark Lord gave us all orders. Those of us deemed too low born or weak were given the petty task of spying or thieving. We weren't meant to succeed - or even do much. We were just pawns while Avery and Mulciber were raised to the higher ranks. They were the ones who carried out acts of kidnapping... and worse. The older generation did little more than give orders and funds to "the cause." They drank elf made wine while everyone else... I can't.
I can not think upon the past. I must function in the present. Still - the ring. I never thought of it until now, but perhaps I should stop wearing mine. People might mistake it as a symbol of The Dark Lord. To the simple minded, serpents are a sign of evil but they are wrong. Serpents are not the monstrous beings that recent cultures have made them out to be. They are healers and they are guardians - graceful creatures completely in tune with the rhythms of the earth... They share bonds with the ancient mother goddesses of countless cultures. My ring – a perfect circle of a serpent around my finger – ties me to that and to my friends who have died. But now that Avery has been set free – he will see it as my continued loyalty to Evan, or worse - it might remind him that he once had a female cousin.
I must never wear my beloved ring again. No one can know my true feelings on anything. The ring expresses far too much no matter what one reads from the thing. Still, I must think of some way to keep it with me…
At least my classes were not much more than a minor irritation today... My N.E.W.T. class in particular is getting on my nerves. At first I was so focused on the antics of Joan Ogden and her cohorts, but now I see beyond that. Now I see their stupidity. There are far too many students studying at the N.E.W.T. level who cannot even properly brew a Girding Potion. To add insult to injury - Joan of all the students is the worst. Why is she here in such an advanced class!?
I hate it. She, like most of the others I am certain got into this class on bribes - others flattery and some surely were an oversight. Horace… Why would he suffer such imbeciles every year? Were the family connections really that useful?
At lunch I returned the records to Minerva McGonagall with many thanks. She had hardly taken them from my hands when she asked, "Well?"
Moment of truth, but their was only one truth, "Joan Sutherland."
Her eyes narrowed. I smiled. She didn't believe me. "Why Severus," she said. It wasn't even a question - it was a demand for a reason.
"Her voice is just so much richer. Maria's voice is incredible, there's not denying it. She glides so effortlessly from one note to the next. But Joan – she emotes in such a profound manner. She puts her whole heart into every phrase – she means it. She isn't acting, she becomes Lucia. Her coloration is so beautiful, her vocal ability is so strong and yet even still - it's secondary to the feeling." Oh dear God. Did I just gush in front of Minerva McGonagall?
Her face hadn't changed. She was still smiling as wide as ever. What? Say it woman! Finally she shook her head and looked away. "Severus," she said finally, "I see no reason why we cannot be perfectly civil to one another."
"So," I looked at her trying to discern the thoughts behind her cunning smile, "What does that mean?"
"It means of course I prefer Joan Sutherland!" She laughed, and then straightened herself up, resembling the stern professor I had known her for as she looked out over the students. And suddenly she wasn't looking at the students – she was looking far past them at a scene I could not see. She smiled serenely as she took in what ever it was that she saw. "The first time I heard 'Lucia Di Lammermoor'," she began dreamily, "it was at Covenant Garden. Joan Sutherland was singing, and while I too admire Maria Callas, I could never truly picture anyone else in the role."
Her smile was infectious. Whatever it was that she was seeing - I could almost feel it. "So, you've actually seen her perform…"
"Yes," still staring she said, "Severus, I will tell you a little secret. I loved a man once. I still do, but he is a Muggle. It could never be for a number of reasons. Well, anyway it was he who introduced me to the opera."
I felt weak. I had no idea. I never imagined her life outside the walls of this school. Minerva – in love – and it could never be... I couldn't speak. I wanted to say something but –
But she caught herself. She straightened herself again, and returned to looking deadly serious. She scowled down her nose at several students who seemed to be getting out of hand. They stopped instantly and then she turned to face me. She grinned at me in a devious way and said, "Severus, I can trust you to keep that quiet, can't I? Because if you don't, I will tell everyone just how passionate you can be when it comes to music, and I know you wouldn't want something like that to be passed around."
Minerva McGonagall. Oh my God. "Yes. It is a deal. Incidentally what would you have done if I had said Maria Callas?" Obviously I had to change the subject, but I did wonder…
"Oh I would still have spoken to you," she explained
"Well maybe I wouldn't have spoken to you," I couldn't help it.
"Oh so that is how its going to be," she was laughing
And that was it. She and I are now forever bonded by shared secrets and a pact to keep silent about one another's private passions. Whatever tension had been between us was erased. For the duration of lunch, we spoke and parried cutting remarks with one another. We were laughing and we were - dare I say it, but happy. It was just like the conversations that I once shared with Lily and Evan - in another life, back when I had friends.
And after having spoken with Minerva McGonagall about things I would only have shared with Lily or Evan, I had to go to London with Dumbledore. I had to go with him - off school grounds to buy records - again something I would only have done with one of my friends... Thankfully we said very little to one another. He left me to peruse the shelves of records on my own. As I collecting the things that I needed, I looked over my shoulder at him. He too was looking through piles of records, which of course got me to thinking – what does Albus Dumbledore listen to? He had said last night that he – no. Not after what was shared between Minerva and myself... I could not bear to learn too much about him.
Instead I focused on finding everything. David Bowie was a priority. I had at one point owned "Low," "Young Americans," and "Heroes." I found those three first, and almost bought "Lodger" in order to complete the Berlin Trilogy - but then I saw "Hunky Dory." I suddenly remembered how Evan used to love that record. I will deal with "Lodger" at some later date. More than anything else, I cannot live with out "Low." "Heroes," will bring back too many good memories of moments that I can never again experience. That record I will never play, I just need to own it. "Led Zeppelin IV," and "The Doors," were no different. "Heroes" was for Tisiphone, "The Doors," was for Evan. Pink Floyd's, "Animals" was essential but I know I'm not ready deal with the rest of their work. Finally, I bought my own copy of Joan Sutherland's performance of 'Lucia'...
I used my first payment to purchase records. What a child I am. Yet I am happy - for now I have new friends.
Dumbledore and I only exchanged small talk on the way back to the school. It was so awkward being out with him in such a way. I was extremely that grateful it was not made worse by his asking me what records I had purchased - or why I had done so.
I was actually happy when we got back, that is - until I passed Vrennon Stanhope in the hallway. He looked as lost and miserable as I had when I was his age. What happened to him?
And now I am back in my room, and I realize upon hearing these lines again just how remiss I have been in neglecting my Zeppelin. "The pain of war, cannot exceed, the woe of aftermath." That about gets it all said doesn't it…
~Thursday 3 December – Evening - My Room
Why can I not simply have one good day? Why when things are finally starting to settle does this have to happen!?
I don't even remember classes or care what occurred. Dumbledore had Filch hand me a note in my final class for the day asking for me to meet him in his office. It is not a Friday, and I was certain nothing else could have happened. Everyone's fate has been settled hasn't it? They are all in Azkaban or had been released or were dead. So what had I overlooked?
I wasted no time after class I had dismissed the class. I even grew frustrated with a few stragglers who kept me from leaving promptly. I walked as quickly as I could with out running.
"Sir?" but I didn't see him right away. I heard him. His voice was muffled - coming from behind some bookshelf. I couldn't make out his exact words. He didn't appear right away, so I assumed that he had told me to wait. So I stood there uncomfortably feeling the eyes of the portraits upon me. I considered going over to the bird, to escape the gaze of the portraits, but even that animal makes me feel nervous. I was staring at it when it cocked its head to look at me – only it hadn't responded to me -
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," I jumped upon hearing him speak. Dumbledore had been standing just inches behind me. Had he meant to surprise me on purpose? I was nearly convinced by the cleaver look in his eyes that he had.
"Filch informed me that you had wanted a word with me," I was in no mood for practical jokes. He was trying to get me to lighten up before giving me bad news - of that I was certain.
He shuffled the stack of books in his arms and produced an opened roll of parchment. "You've received an invitation from the Malfoy family."
What? I managed only to blink in response.
He continued, completely ignoring my shock, "It seems you have been invited to a Christmas party, hosted by Lucius and his wife at their residence on Saturday, the nineteenth of December."
"What should I do?" I asked him. For certainly if I could not be permitted to visit shops on my own I would not have any business going to such a Godforsaken place - chaperoned or not. For once my imprisonment would work to my advantage.
He lowered his head, glaring over his glasses at me and said, "You will go of course."
"What." No. No - I couldn't... No! He wasn't going to make me – "Sir, certainly you are not going to make me go - "
"Severus," he began, still staring me straight in the eye, "After all that you said to me not but a few weeks ago about wanting so desperately to single handedly hunt them all down and kill them yourself, do you now mean to tell me the you are afraid to attend a simple holiday gathering of Death Eaters?"
Afraid!? How dare he even suggest such a thing!? Fear has nothing to do with it. Killing them is one thing - having dinner with them is another thing all together! Those people make me sick - and of course he would never see this for in his heart he still thinks me to be one of them! "I am not afraid. I simply do not see any reason why -"
"You don't see any reason!?" he cut me off so angrily. "Did you not agree to act as my spy?"
I opened my mouth but couldn't speak. Of course I knew there would come a point when I would have to – but I just, never imagined that time would have come so soon.
"We are very fortunate that they have invited you. I feared it might take far longer for them to welcome you back into the fold." After saying that he handed me the invitation.
I took it from his hand. I read it myself. My name in Malfoy's hand... Why did I think it would be years before I had to act? Of course, I had been brought to some peace by the thought that Dumbledore would be keeping an eye on them. Why did I not see it!? He means to do so through me - already.
"You will respond promptly, and you will tell them that you mean to attend. I trust that you will know what to do when the time comes. Never the less, we will discuss this further as the event approaches." He looked at me, waiting for my response.
I had no intention of saying no. I wrote out my response and handed it back to him. "I assume it would be against the terms of our agreement for me to take this to the Owlery myself?" He was not amused, but I was even less so.
I left his office and now I am back here in my room. I don't even want to think about the Malfoys. At the moment I'm too angry with Dumbledore. He trusts I will know what to do when the time comes. He said as much, but this is a man who will not allow me to leave the castle alone. Like my trial, I will be coached for hours on what to do and say. I don't know what will be worst, the training or the thing itself.
Fuck. I wish I had joint. I could smoke and listen to Led Zeppelin just as I had in my seventh year. No, I'm not a teenage boy anymore. I have the waters of Slytherin - my lake fed pool. I will swim and listen to David Bowie, "Hunky Dory" I think.. It will be enough.
~Friday 4 December – Morning My Room
I knew listening to "Hunky Dory" would lead to trouble... Evan used to play that record so often. I made it a point to play only the first side of the record, but still I dreamed about my past. They were mostly good dreams about my friends. The longest was a hazy memory from a drunken night out in the woods with all of them, but it turned into a nightmare - for in the end Jocasta Carrow was there. She turned up in the crowd unexpectedly and for no apparent reason she gave Evan such a talking-to. She told Evan that she would kill him herself if he were to shame his family again.
It is quite possible – in fact it's highly likely that such a thing did occur, but that I know had only been a dream. There is no way I could have witnessed such a thing - for even the most highly intoxicated individual could never forget an encounter with that woman.
It's still hard for me to imagine that Jocasta had been Tisiphone's and Evan's Aunt. I can not imagine how that whole set of cousins spent so much time at her house under her authority over holidays and such. Tisiphone never spoke of it and neither did Avery, but Evan told me things. Avery I know she favored for he loved and obeyed his aunt as he did his own mother. But how Tisi and Evan turned out to be decent people after what they did to indoctrinate that generation against Muggles and most of humanity - I will never know.
Perhaps I am judging Matilda, Albert, Joan and Elwyn unfairly. God only knows what horrors they grew up with. I of all people should be sympathetic. I will do my best to be more patient with them today.
~Friday 4 December – Late Night in My Room
I really hate Dumbledore.
Classes ended to the week with out any incident. Oh Matilda made some off comment about me but I let it slide - for I promised to be more understanding. I felt all right by the time classes had ended, but then I remembered that it was Friday - which meant that I would have to meet with him. But would I? I had done so last night - should I really have to go again? But I did. I knew I had to.
When I walked through the door of his office, I found him sitting behind his desk. He was busy reading The Evening Prophet.
"Forgive my intrusion Sir," I said, for he did not acknowledge me when I first entered the room. Already I began to doubt whether or not it had been right for me to come.
"Nonsense Severus, please sit down. It is Friday after all." he said as he laid the paper down upon his desk.
I swallowed hard. I really did not want to be there. I tried my best to think of something to say, but I couldn't. That was a mistake - because that's when Dumbledore started in talking. It wasn't him criticizing me, and it wasn't a set of orders either. This was far worse. It was small talk.
"It's terrible isn't it?" he said this as he gestured to the cover of The Prophet. Like the early edition, it too talked of only one subject.
"So they are really going through with it then? Of all people - Ludo Bagman now?" I may not have cared to chat with Dumbledore, but even I was curious about how it had come to this.
"I'm afraid so," he said looking and sounding very dismayed.
"That is absurd," I couldn't help saying. It was. Not one article I'd read today mentioned any real evidence against him save for a few weak ties he might have had to Augustus Rookwood.
"Yes, it is a sad commentary on the current state of affairs when even Ludovic Bagman can be called in to stand trial..." He sighed and then began talking about the circumstances surrounding the trial. I was only half paying attention.
I did this partially because I was tired and distracted by the many thoughts in my own head, but mostly, because I just wasn't ready to have an actual discussion with Albus Dumbledore. I mean, it's Dumbledore - not Madame Pomfrey or Minerva McGonagall. I just kept nodding at him, then he said something – it was mostly to himself. A name he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" I asked, for it irritated me how he had spoken it to himself and not to me.
He smiled at me brightly, "Oh nothing Severus, it's something I'm afraid you wouldn't understand."
Murrow. That was it.
Of course - Murrow. He'd mentioned Ed Murrow and assumed that I didn't know about him or what he'd done to combat McCarthyism. He thinks I haven't already drawn the parallels between Joseph McCarthy and Barty Crouch. All these assumptions about my ignorance this week! I've no profound love for Muggles, but why would he assume that I do not know things!? I am a Half-Blood! I was raised in the Muggle world by a woman who - for all intensive purposes pretended to be a Muggle! On top of that - I've had hardly any friends my entire life. What does everyone think that I do with all of my time? Do they all not realize that I've read literally any book, magazine or newspaper I can get my hands on regardless of subject – just for the sake of having something to occupy my time and to give my life some semblance meaning!? Honestly.
I was far too irritated to listen to him after that. I didn't even pretend to pay attention. Finally I had to cut him off. I was too near to screaming. "Sir, would you like to discuss the topic of the upcoming Malfoy Gathering?"
"Not yet Severus," he said. And with that I was done. I told him that I was very tired and asked his permission to leave.
He gave his permission and so I turned and walked away, across that horrid red and gold carpet towards the door. Then I heard him say behind me, "Good night Severus."
I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn't help it. It was far too easy, and he'd really made me mad, "Good night Headmaster," I said, "Good night, and Good luck." And with that I left the room and shut the door behind me. He's not the only one who can read Muggle history books and newspapers.
I'd laugh about it now - but there is nothing funny about it. I hate how everyone judges me. Poor, ignorant, Muggle hating Death Eater... but what is any of that compared with my true guilt?
It can not be helped. That is my fate, and all of it is my own doing - because I accepted his invitation, because I betrayed her... There it is, and yet I am not left with nothing - for I have the whole of this weekend to spend with my books and my new records, my friends.
I have that, but now it begins to gnaw at me. Fifteen days. In fifteen days I will have to face them all again. And I am absolutely certain - he will be there…
Avery.