A/N- yes, Snape's actions were extremely ruthless in the first chapter. But it wasn't so much OOC as it was acting out his assigned role, and playing the part, knowing that his every memory could potentially be accessed and scrutinized by Lord Voldemort. And on an off-note, RIP Alan Rickman- your portrayal of Professor Snape will never be forgotten...
Chapter 1: Not Such a Bright Idea
Severus sat in his chair, slumped forward, with his elbows firmly planted on the desk, holding his head in his hands. He'd already put the contract itself out of the way, placing it in one of the folders in one of the drawers- he already couldn't remember precisely which one of them he'd put it into, and for once, it was better that way. What on earth had possessed him to do that, to make that bargain? He hadn't expected anything, hadn't actually wanted anything... That wasn't true. Reluctantly, Severus admitted to himself that he had wanted whatever was being offered, once Karkaroff had placed the offer on the table. But that was only because he'd assumed it was something truly important, something that they might genuinely need.
Like another one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes- they couldn't all be in Britain, obviously, because the Dark Lord wasn't a complete imbecile. He'd be sure to have at least one Horcrux hidden away outside the British Isles for contingency purposes, beyond of the reach of any insurgents who might rise up to try and bring about his demise, once the anti-immigration apparition wards around the coast were brought back under the Death Eaters' control and placed on their complete quarantine setting indefinitely. And given how the Dark Lord had focused his attentions on the whereabouts of Karkaroff more than any of the other absentees, and placed greater importance on tracking Karkaroff down than any of the rest, it was the only logical assumption. What else was he supposed to think that Karkaroff had been blithering on about? This wasn't his fault- any sane and rational person in his position would have assumed that Karkaroff had been talking about two of the Dark Lord's precious Horcruxes, just as Severus had.
But Igor hadn't been. No, no Horcruxes- no step closer to bringing about the Dark Lord's long overdue permanent demise. Instead, what had Severus gotten? What 'precious possessions' had Karkaroff signed over to him instead...? Severus shook his head, pulling out the drawers one by one until he'd found the half-empty bottle he was looking for, the one which contained his own specially refined home-brewed moonshine; a relaxing mildly alcoholic beverage which he'd dubbed 'Potus Tranquillitatis', one which utilized a variety of far more palatable ingredients than the typical potion, but still managed to deliver the effectiveness of a potent calming draught. Not bothering with pouring it out into a glass, he took a long, deep swig, draining it until there was nothing left. He'd always known that Karkaroff was a spineless coward; and he'd often said that, had she been powerful enough to become a Death Eater herself, the man would have willingly sold his own mother out in order to weedle out of taking responsibility for his own follies. But this- this? This went beyond the pale.
Children. Karkaroff had had children. Two children- two daughters. One of them, Natalia, seventeen years old- she'd have just finished her sixth year, or be finishing it now. The other, Anastasia, only fourteen years of age- in the same academic year as Draco, and the Boy-who-couldn't-be-killed. And in spite of that, in spite of having them to fight for, he'd still chosen to take the coward's way out, to die without even so much as saying goodbye to them? Not just that, but willingly signed a blood-bound contract to hand them over into the custody of the very man he'd invited to kill him, in return for a swift and painless execution? Severus closed his eyes, the creases etching themselves into his frowning face deepening from mere furrows into veritable chasms. He felt sick, physically sick. If he'd known, if he'd only known, he'd have never followed through...
Scratch that- he'd never have presented the offer at all, not in a million years. Igor's chances of escaping the Dark Lord's clutches may have been infinitesimal, true- even if he had abandoned his two daughters, and even more so if he'd taken them along with him to whatever pitiful excuse for safety he'd have been able to find- but even infinitesimal wasn't the same as non-existent. If he'd known, if only Igor had told him, he would have offered Igor his help; offered to help him, them, find an unplottable safehole to try and hide away in, regardless of how low the odds of their escaping the Dark Lord's clutches may have been, and of how high the likelihood that he'd be betrayed by Igor the moment that the Death Eaters caught up with the man might have been.
Why hadn't that yellow-bellied, imbecilic weakling come out with it and told him the whole truth, instead of just rolling over like that? How the hell was I supposed to have known that I'd be orphaning two young witches in the process of satisfying the man's death wish- that wasn't the deal I thought I was signing up for, damnit! What was I supposed to have done- just gone and barged in, used whatever meagre excuse for legilimency I'd still been in any state to muster after that torturous interrogation session with the Dark Lord, to intrude on all of the most private aspects of Karkaroff's personal life, the instant that I opened that door and found the man cowering here in my study? YES. Yes, I should have. Severus realized that now- how could he have been such an idiot? You'd just found out, only a few hours ago, that an active Death Eater, Barty Crouch Junior, had been using polyjuice potion to impersonate Alastor Moody and running a deep-cover operation here at Hogwarts for at least the past ten months, for Salazar's sake! Karkaroff could have been anyone. ANYONE!
For all he'd known, Severus could have been killing a muggle, or a mudblood, placed under the Imperius curse, polyjuiced and sent here by one of the Death Eaters, perhaps even by the Dark Lord himself, to confirm his loyalties beyond doubt. He hadn't, of course he knew that now- that contract, written in their blood-magic, proved beyond any shadow of a doubt that it had been the real Igor Karkaroff. But for all he knew then, back when he'd actually been doing it, he could have been killing another member of the Death Eaters proper, bringing the wrath of all their vengeance-seeking relatives and allies down on his head. He could have been killing a member of the Order- he could think of more than a few individuals who hated his guts enough, who may well have been clinically, insanely brazen enough to come up with such a plan on the spur of the moment, brew up polyjuice potion and come charging down here to test his true loyalties for themselves, consequences and repercussions be damned. He could have been killing Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin...
Who were, admittedly, two of the most palatable options running through his mind right now, but even so. If he'd wanted either of them dead, then he would have gone after them and damn well killed them back then in '79, as soon as he'd signed up and joined the Death Eaters. He hadn't been prepared to kill them back then, and he certainly didn't want to kill them now, no matter how badly he still wanted to hex their faces into oblivion every time he set eyes on them. And the other potential candidates didn't even bear thinking about. Hell, for all he knew, he could have been killing Pomona, Filius, Minerva, or even Albus... Good lord, I could even have been killing one of my own students! Masquerading as Karkaroff, and barging in here to try to extract an incriminating account from me under those false pretenses- that would have been exactly the sort of mad scheme that Potter and his lot would have come up with...! But what was he supposed to have done, damn it? He could have just used legilimency on the man, but he couldn't- one couldn't just, flounce about, willy-nilly, mind-raping everyone in sight. It just wasn't right...
"Severus! Now, time is of the essence; we must..."
Speak of the devil. Right on cue, the wards he'd placed on the door to keep any sounds from getting in or out, to keep it sealed and locked up as tightly as he could, utterly disintegrated, dispelled in the blink of an eye. An instant later, Albus Dumbledore came barging in, still wearing those same grand, sweeping dress robes he'd worn to spectate the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament yesterday, which billowed out on either side, wide enough to sweep against both sides of the doorway as he made his suitably grand and stirring entrance.
As soon as he'd heard the voice, before the door had even opened, Severus had buried the memories of, what had just happened, deep down inside. Casting his mind aside, as fast as he could, he turned to reminiscing on every vivid detail of that ever-so-unpleasant and oh-so-heavy hazing which he'd been forced to endure at the little frat-party reunion which Voldemort had thrown to welcome the Death Eaters back into the fold. Which had just happened, only coming to its 'end' less than an hour ago. But it was too late. that fraction of a second had been long enough for Albus blooming Dumbledore, the Head-Master, damned psychic that he was, to somehow twig that something wasn't right; that something was somehow amiss.
"...Is everything alright? You seem..."
"Somewhat pale? Out of sorts? Well, let's see what's happened lately- The Dark Lord seems to have returned from beyond the grave at long last, in spite of all our efforts, stronger, more powerful and more inhuman than ever. And yes, virtually every single surviving Death Eater who wasn't still incarcerated rallied to his cause without a second thought or a moment's hesitation, as soon as they felt the Dark Mark burn, like the mindlessly devoted living Inferi they are- and more or less all of them have pledged the allegiance of the next generation to him as well to boot, which will more than compensate for the loss of the few who've passed on and left the land of the living since his first fall. And all of the Death Eaters' most fanatical war veterans are set to be walking out of Azkaban within the week, courtesy of its Dementor guards' inevitable defection to the side of the Dark Lord; set to make his forces more powerful, more extreme and more deranged than they ever were back then. That is, unless you magically managed to bring Cornelius Fudge around since I left earlier, and he WON'T be doing all he can to fudge everything up..."
"No such luck, I'm afraid."
"I didn't think so. But on the bright side, our supposed savior, the Boy-who-didn't-die, still isn't dead, regardless of how hard he may have tried to satisfy that insatiable death wish of his. Making that suicidal attempt to single-handedly engage the Dark Lord himself in a duel, Potter proved himself capable of mustering nothing more advanced than a pathetically simple and futile Expelliarmus, and yet somehow miraculously escaped death and escaped the Death Eaters' clutches, solely due to a series of complete and utter flukes. So no; there's nothing wrong at all. Everything's perfectly fine and dandy. Obviously."
"Virtually every..." Albus Dumbledore muttered, his eyes gravitating towards a spot on the wall of Severus' study, where it appeared that a small piece of stone had been chipped off recently, since the last time he'd been down here... Severus watched as Albus' gaze slowly shifted, away from the unsightly pockmark to settle upon Barty Crouch Jr's chest, which had imprisoned Moody for the past year, and served as the Trojan Horse, enabling the Death Eater to breach the walls of Hogwarts and bring the Dark Lord's scheme to resurrect himself to fruition... "What of Karkaroff? He went running off, in a wild panic, before you did, but no-one seems to have seen him leaving the grounds, or to have had any idea as to where he was heading off to. Was he among their number, or has he fled? Or- I wonder. Do you have any idea as to where he may be, Severus?"
Damn it. The gig was up before it had even begun. There was nothing else for it- he'd have to come clean. Dropping his cold and steely facade, Severus slumped back in his chair, breathing a heavy sigh. Time to liberally apply the sacred ritual-strength Cologne- it was going to take a hell of a lot of it to try and spruce up this shit... Clearing his throat, and clearing his mind, Snape raised his eyes to look directly into those of Albus Dumbledore, which were twinkling brightly, utterly penetrating and infuriatingly impenetrable.
"Well- Actually, Albus, that's what I need to talk to you about, first and foremost. Igor Karkaroff was not among their number. His inexcusable absence, and thus his clear betrayal, was more duly noted than that of any of the others who failed to attend- including even my own absence and purported betrayal, prior to my late arrival, or so I'm told. And given that I'd been cleared of all charges in the First Wizarding War when you, the Dark Lord's most hated arch-nemesis, personally took the stand in front of every wizard and witch in the Wizengamot and publicly declared me to have been your personal informant and inside man, that speaks volumes. In spite of all of that, the Dark Lord was still willing to entertain putting me to the test- indeed, willing to accept me back into the fold and absolve me of all that I'd been accused of, after I managed to convince him as to where my true loyalties lay, after subjecting me to a torture session on the end of his wand which lasted for a mere hour, if that. In stark contrast, the Dark Lord himself declared that Igor's absence and testimonies proved him to be a traitor, and that Karkaroff was now nothing more than sport, to be hunted down by the hounds and killed in the most excruciatingly entertaining manner possible."
"So, would you believe that Karkaroff has turned to the light? That he no longer allies himself with Lord Voldemort...?"
"Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it." Severus saw Albus Dumbledore's eyes widen ever so slightly, with that characteristic twinkle in them flaring up for an instant before returning to normal, and knew then that Hogwarts' Headmaster had managed to sneak a peek through his mental wards, and caught at least a small glimpse of exactly what had transpired for himself. At any other time, Snape would have been pissed off by Albus' intrusion into his private thoughts, and by the clear show of distrust. But right now, Snape was just too drained to give a damn, and decided to carry on to the end. Out loud, keeping it brief, while still going over every detail of every moment in his own mind to visualize the whole sorry affair, even if Dumbledore's legilimency meant that the man would know everything he was going to say before the words even left his mouth.
"You see, when I returned to Hogwarts, and returned here to my study, I returned to find that my office had already been unwarded- by Igor, who hadn't dared to risk going to find out for himself whether or not the Dark Lord had indeed returned, for fear of reprisal. Instead, he'd come down here, and waited for me to return. And it was only when I did return, and once I'd spelled it out for him that it had really happened, that Igor felt threatened enough to flee, and to get as far away as he could. But it was too late by then; far too late. In his panicked state, having taken leave of his senses, it was clear that Karkaroff wouldn't have lasted more than a few days on the run..."
Summoning up a chair from across the room, Dumbledore slowly sat down, solemnly shaking his head. "Oh, Severus. Why didn't you think of offering him sanctuary? There could have been a place for him in the Order of the Phoenix, he could have been of so much help to our cause... I could have kept him safe, would have made the arrangements to have him protected from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters by a member of the Order..."
Severus couldn't stop himself, couldn't contain the thoughts that burst into his head at that absurd statement; and since Dumbledore was almost certainly eavesdropping on all of those thoughts anyway, there wasn't any point of holding his tongue. "Are you joking? The thought never crossed my mind. And since I'm sure you remember what happened, that one and only time when I did leave it to you and your precious Order to arrange protection for someone who I'd wanted to protect myself, I doubt I'd have seriously considered it even if it had. You and the Order haven't even managed to protect Harry Potter, your proclaimed saviour- the Boy-Who-Lived, and only son of his practically forgotten Mother-Who-Died, thanks that rat in your Order who turned traitor and got her killed by the Dark Lord- from anyone or anything thus far, over the course of his entire life! And you really think you could have protected Igor Karkaroff? Or that you could have trusted him not to switch his allegiances right back as soon as he got the chance, not to turn traitor just like Pettigrew did and betray all of us to save his own skin?"
"People can change, Severus." Dumbledore said sternly, leaning in across the desk. "There are some who are not beyond redemption; many who turn to the darkness can be turned back to the light, as you yourself well know."
"I am NOT getting into that crap now, Albus. Anyway, as I said, any early chances he might have had to take flight were already gone. When I left the Death Eaters' presence, Greyback was the clear favorite to place one's bets upon, and had already started to assemble his werewolf filth for the hunt, swearing that each and every member of his pack would be allowed to join him in feasting upon Karkaroff's flesh before the killing bite. It was as clear to Karkaroff as it was to me that he had no chance of receiving clemency; escape was no longer an option, and he rightfully feared the fate which he'd face if he were to be captured by our Dark Lord or any of the other Death Eaters more than he feared death, as any Death Eater would. He wished to end it on his own terms, swiftly and painlessly. So, I agreed to grant his wish, and in return, Igor agreed to place his 'two most valuable magical possessions' in my hands- I swore to take care of them, and to keep them out of the clutches of the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters. I thought that 'they' might be a couple of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, especially given how much importance the Dark Lord had placed upon hunting Karkaroff down; but it seems that my guess was a long way off the mark. Tell me, did you ever know that Karkaroff had children...?"
Just one look at Dumbledore was enough to answer that question, and Severus groaned, raising a hand to cradle his forehead in its palm. "Why did I even bother asking? Of course you knew. You always know..."
"I'd assumed you'd have known, Severus. After all, you and Igor did run in close circles, even became friends for some time..."
"Associates, Albus. Acquaintances, at most. Not friends- never friends. But... Now, it appears that I'm sworn to uphold my vow to be the legal guardian to his children. Two children whose father just died at the end of my wand..."
Staring blankly at the desk, Snape's temper flared up again as he sensed Dumbledore's feather-light touch encroaching on his thoughts again, seemingly taking advantage of his emotionally warped and weakened occlumency wards- but it fizzled out quickly enough as Albus' intentions became clear. When Albus spoke, it was in the same consolatory, reassuring tone as the waves washing across Severus' occlumens wards.
"First, Severus- neither of the two, neither Natalia nor Anastasia, were Igor's children by birth. They were both his step-children, nothing more."
"Oh, joy. I'm sure that'll make what I just did sooo much better in their eyes. Only killing their step-dad, as opposed to killing their birth-dad. I suppose I should expect the two girls to come flocking to me, expressing their gratitude from the depths of their hearts, after having done them such a monumental favor..." Severus trailed off, momentarily taken aback by the realization that Albus had actually given nodded, as if in agreement, and had even offered an actual smile, however fleeting it may have been. He'd never thought he'd see the day- the day when the great Albus Dumbledore came over to the dark side of humor, and actually managed to acknowledge sarcasm... "Along with their mother, no doubt."
"Oh, neither of the two girls' respective mothers are still alive. Nor their birth-fathers, for that matter. Both of them are orphans."
Severus whipped his head around to face Dumbledore again, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the smug expression plastered across the man's face. "Look, Albus, I understand that it's your first attempt at this sarcasm malarkey, but even by my standards, that's going too far, and way too soon. Not amused. Not amused at all."
"Oh, I'm not being sarcastic. The elder of the two girls, Natalia, was betrothed to Igor's only son, Nestor, at the age of seven, and had been a member of the Karkaroff Household for the past nine or ten years. Unfortunately though, Nestor Karkaroff was charged with the crimes of necromancy and several counts of murder, and the Russian Dvoranstvo Magiy's sentence for him to receive the Dementor's Kiss was carried out a couple of years ago. I can recall that the betrothal contract was signed by her great-uncle, the patriarch of the Finnish House of Louhi, and that she was already an orphan then. I don't know any of the details about the circumstances of her mother's and father's respective deaths, nor when they took place- but perhaps you could ask her yourself? She was one of the students who came as part of the Durmstrang delegation for the Triwizard Tournament, but I don't think she was quite old enough to enter her name into the Goblet of Fire before the draw took place. Anyway, she's been sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for the past year, and she's still here at Hogwarts- probably in her quarters on the Durmstrang ship, sleeping away as we speak. And she'll be there again in the morning, for breakfast. Perhaps you could speak to her then, take her aside to explain things in private as best you can?"
"I suppose I'll have to, won't I? Shit. So, then, what about...?"
"The younger child, Anastasia? Well, I may be wrong, but I seem to recall from Igor's brief mention of her that she was the only child of Igor's now deceased wife, Fioralba, from her prior marriage. After her father, a member of the House of Vadimas, died and left her mother a widow, she remarried to Igor Karkaroff, but their marriage was short-lived. Her murder was among those which Nestor Karkaroff was charged with, and found guilty of. I'm sure you're familiar with the famous Mrs. Enrichetta Zabini? Her son, Blaise, happens to be one of your fourth-years, in Slytherin."
"Yes, I'm well aware of my own charges, thank you." Severus snapped. "Especially those few who are actually worth teaching. What on earth do the Zabinis have to do with this?"
"Fioralba's maiden name was Zabini. As I recall, she was Enrichetta's first cousin- and as such, that would make young Anastasia the second cousin of Blaise Zabini. I could talk to Madame Maxime about her, see if we could arrange for her to come here to Hogwarts- she had to attend Beauxbatons Academy, in spite of Igor's efforts to enrol her at the Durmstrang Institute, since he wasn't in any position to dictate to Durmstrang's Board of Governors about changing the school's admission policy in the immediate aftermath of that dreadful business with his son. She wasn't pure enough, you see..."
Eh? Severus raised a hand, cutting Dumbledore off in mid-sentence. "Wait. I thought that both the Zabinis and Vadimas were as pure-blood as they come? How could she possibly not be pure enough?"
"Well, Severus, Durmstrang's admissions policy dictates that you have to be at least three generations pure when it comes to Squib or Muggle ancestry, but at least four generations pure when it comes to Magical Being ancestry. Anastasia and Blaise's great-grandmother, the grandmother of Enrichetta and Fioralba Zabini, was a Veela. Thus, Anastasia's mixed-race heritage made her ineligible by Durmstrang's strict admissions standards."
"Then the rumors are true," Severus muttered. "Mrs. Enrichetta Zabini is part Veela after all. To the same extent as the Beauxbatons champion, Miss Fleur Delacour..."
"Indeed she is, Severus. So, shall I make the arrangements with Olympe?"
"What? Yes, yes. Let's just, get on with it, get this over and done with. Merlin..." Reflexively, Snape reached across for his bottle of Potus Tranquillitatis, groaning loudly when he picked it up and remembered that he'd already downed the whole lot. "Ugh. Two young girls. Two little orphaned girls, who I just orphaned all over again. And I'm going to have to stand there, look them dead in the eyes, and tell them- what do I tell them?"
"I'm sure you'll think of something, Severus." Dumbledore stated confidently, rising from his chair. "Oh, and one last thing- I'm no more enamored with the lowest form of wit than I was before. However, I've always been fond of the form of wit which would be wasted on the stupid."
"Wait- what?" But Dumbledore was already gone, tossing a wry smile over his shoulders as he made his sweeping exit, with the door creaking shut behind him. What in Salazar's name was that last remark supposed to have meant? I swear, it's always riddles and enigmas with that man. Hat should've sorted him into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor...
But at long last, Severus had his study to himself again- well, besides for Igor Karkaroff's dead corpse, lying in the casket which sat on the cobbled floor alongside his desk. Severus sat there for a few moments, staring at it. It had been far too long already- Karkaroff's spirit was long gone, into the beyond, and it wasn't coming back. Even so, he still half-expected Igor's ghost to materialize out of thin air at any moment, returning from beyond the grave with no purpose other than to drift up into his face and mock him to his heart's content.
Shoving his chair back, getting up and stamping toward his own sleeping quarters, Severus flung the emptied bottle across the room. Watched, as it frustratingly ricocheted off the dungeon wall, slammed down onto the cobbled stone floor and bounced back up into the air a few times, before it settled, and then slowly started rolling back towards him, entirely unscathed. Putting shatterproof and unbreakable charms on all of his glassware may have been practical, he mused, and may have made perfect sense, but it also made things extremely difficult for him at times like this. Right now, he really badly felt like he needed to break something, for the sake of his sanity. Tonight, had been a very long night. And tomorrow was shaping up to be a very, very long day...