Chapter 2 - Friends or Foes?
A week passed remarkably quickly at Hogwarts when every day was the same. Shruthi Patel woke up every morning with the hopes that the rest of Hufflepuff House hadn't yet. This was so she could sneak in and use the bathrooms before the boisterous crowd. If she were lucky, the only other occupants are those on the house Quidditch team. It was where she first laid eyes on the famous Cedric Diggory. Imprinted in her mind was the actor from the movies but the real Cedric Diggory sported brunet hair he let air-dry in the morning in loose, wet waves that clung to his tanned forehead. His grey eyes were never cold as they were often warmed when the muscles around them crinkled as Cedric laughed or smiled. Otherwise, the casting was fair–Cedric was tall, athletic, and handsome. And, Shruthi tried not to outwardly gape at him every time she was tangentially in his presence. But, Cedric took no notice when most of Hufflepuff also acknowledged how pretty their sixth-year Prefect and Quidditch captain was.
Over in Slytherin house, Jane Becker could wake up any time and have the entire bathroom for herself. There was an unspoken acknowledgement in the green-and-silver house to have the bathroom down the hall from the fourth-year Slytherin witches dedicated to the only Muggle-born in their house. She thought her housemates were stupid to think that this was some sort of punishment for her when it resulted in one less bathroom for the house to use. Her roommates now shared a bathroom with the fifth-year Slytherin girls.
While Jane spent her days sitting at the fringes of Slytherin, Shruthi spent hers at the centres of Hufflepuff. This meant that the only time that the two Muggle girls could see each other was at Snape's horrible detentions. These were now daily affairs as Snape stated that each one was equivalent to one Sickle from Shruthi's debt. When considering that Potage's Cauldron Shop, located down in Diagon Alley, sells a Standard Size 2 Pewter Cauldron for fifteen Galleons (with seventeen Sickles to a Galleon). Shruthi had inadvertently sentenced herself to detention for the rest of the year. Through it all, there was a small blessing that Severus Snape invented a reason to put Jane into daily detention alongside her–the most recent being: "Attending his class with a disrespectful look on your face."
This current punishment was the arduous tasks of cleaning and organising the shared ingredient cupboards across all seven of his classrooms. He had assigned it as busy work–something meant to waste their time and to keep them out of trouble–but Jane and Shruthi were never ones to back away from a challenge. They took it upon themselves and spent hours in each closet with their Potion textbook open to study the different ingredients used in curriculum-designated potions. Soon they realised that Snape didn't care how it was organised. And Jane enjoyed the freedom to design a system that made sense to her.
Firstly, they measured and recorded how much of each ingredient was available across all the cupboards. Then, there was an awful lot of shuffling and moving over the next couple of days to best serve each year group's demands. Finally, each individual cupboard was neatly rearranged so that commonly shared ingredients would be housed on the most accessible shelves (Jane argued for her height not Shruthi's). The remaining shelves were divided in dedicated shelves for each potion unless a certain constituent needed to be stored specially. The change had greatly annoyed any person that used it after the implementation as the rest of the school had gotten used to Snape's old system. However, since no one knew it was them, the entire school kept their mouths shut thinking it was just another way that the horrid Potion Master of Hogwarts was punishing them.
Like all the other professors at Hogwarts, Severus Snape had seven classrooms that spanned one floor of the Slytherin dungeons. As students graduate from one year to the next, they would move one further along the corridor. Most students would never see what the two classrooms at the end were like as many gave up on pursuing Potions after their O.W.L.s He found himself liking those classrooms the best since only the most committed and talented brewers were permitted to use them. Naturally, his least favourite was the first-year classroom. His dislike was reflected by dismal decorations and the most numerous benches to accommodate the incoming cohort. After one day's worth of lessons, the floors were sticky with dropped ingredients and the desks were stained with ink. Merlin, give him strength and patience to deal with another year of the imbeciles that loiter in these halls.
Before long the Muggle girls could identify most ingredients and prepare them with adequate pre-reading before their Potion lessons. But nothing could help them with the slight issue of waving their wand over to finish the brew. Their wands did nothing in Potions, in Transfiguration, in Charms, and in general. "You know when I was little, I dreamed about being special and magical. I always thought I would at least be able to do it," Shruthi whispered to Jane as they were sitting cross-legged on the cold floor of the ingredient cupboard, rearranging the bottom shelf of the fourth-year classroom. Her legs were exhausted from the amount of walking it required between her classes. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases in the castle, and to her, it felt like she had to traverse all of them to go from the Potions' dungeons to the Charms tower. She had kicked off her shoes and flexed her toes underneath her thick woollen socks for some temporary relief.
Jane snorted, "Well, now you know for sure that you aren't magical." Jane never dreamed about going to Hogwarts. In actuality, she couldn't stand the books; she stopped after chapter one of the first book. She somehow got through the eight movies and decided that Hogwarts looked like an awful place to go to school. Now that she was here, her opinion only took a turn for the worse. It was absolutely hellish to be at Hogwarts. Slytherin house was a lonely and cold place to her but she was forced to be with them almost every hour of every day. She had tried to make friends with the Gryffindors that sat beside her in class, but they'd all take one look at the green trim on her robes and ignore her like her own house.
After dinner, Snape supervised the girls as they journeyed just outside the wards of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. They didn't have to go as far as the Muggle town as Snape took them to the exact spot where the wards ended. But they still did make the longer trek weekly to charge their phones. Lying to their parents came easier than they realised as it was practically the same conversation every time.
How was your day?
How was uni?
Are you eating well?
Are you sleeping well?
How is Shruthi?
How is Jane?
Is she enjoying her classes?
Snape kept them on the clock, fifteen minutes only. A limit which Shruthi's parents pushed daily.
A month passed even more quickly than either girl realised. They were once again standing in front of the iron door to Snape's classroom for detention. The dungeons weren't only a funny nickname given by the Hogwarts students as a reference to the Potion Master's subterranean classroom location. It had earned its name by the entrances to the classrooms. The doors were a criss-crossed pattern of flat iron bars with each connection held together by a bead of soldered metal. It was the only source of ventilation for the classroom due to the lack of windows as they were deep underground. Argus Filch kept the bars polished and rust-free but it was the only part of the classroom that Severus Snape let the caretaker clean in his classroom. And I suppose we clean the rest , Jane complained.
"Snape's a cunt," Shruthi swore loudly as she read through her list of homework that she had written on a scrap piece of parchment. Calling it legible would be generous as she still found it difficult to write with a quill and ink after being spoiled by a lifetime of ball-point pen use. Jane fared worse when she discovered quickly that the quills and ink that she was provided were designed for right-handed writers. Jane looked at her friend and nodded tiredly. It was not the first time that Shruthi had complained to her about Severus Snape–it was more of a daily occurrence at this point.
"What did he do this time?" Jane asked out of friendship's sake, missing the way Shruthi glanced up from her parchment to look just past her shoulder at the hallway behind her. The Potions' corridor was identical in both directions. The Potions' dungeons were the only classrooms that never magicked around the school. Transfiguration moved weekly and this week swapped places with Charms.
"As usual my potion didn't brew correctly, and I was about to pour it down the sink. He goes and takes the damn cauldron out of my hands and tells me, 'Hopefully this will improve your aptitude in potions,' and pours it all over my head! I was late to Transfiguration because I had to spend an hour scrubbing the fucking Flobberworm mucus out of my hair," Shruthi's voice grew more incensed as she detailed her story. "Not that being early would've helped in Transfiguration," she added in a mumble. "He should've never been hired; with the sort of history he has."
"And what sort of history is that, Miss Patel?" Snape leaned over Jane's shoulder and the air smelled of mint originating from Shruthi's hair. He immediately straightened his back to make the smell less overwhelming. He put some distance from both girls to reduce the smell further. He didn't intend to be late to detention today, but Albus Dumbledore had called a sudden staff meeting to check on preparations to the school ahead of the Tournament.
Both girls were uncharacteristically silent, but Shruthi kept looking at his sleeve. He looked down and then looked back up at her not understanding her sudden interest. It was folded over and tucked in the way he preferred since it was unobstructive when brewing potions. Shruthi toyed with the edge of her right robe sleeve and rolled it up, which was something of a nervous habit of hers he had noted for the last two weeks. He remembered how annoying it was for her to continue to play around with her sleeve length all throughout her detentions with him. Her habit was even taken up by Jane Becker, but she didn't repeat it obsessively like her friend. "What is it?"
"Your history, sir," Shruthi replied curtly, and only then did it dawn on him. He took one small step forward pushed both girls into the classroom and slammed the door behind him.
His wand was in his calloused right hand and pointed at Shruthi's throat as Jane watched helplessly from the side. Jane never had found her Head of House as intimidating as he thought he was, but right now when he looked furious enough to kill, she felt that fear that everyone spoke of in hushed whispers around the school. His crooked, yellow teeth were barred as his thin lips were pulled into a snarl. His eyes looked soulless in the dim candlelight and his skin had a stretched look that gave him a corpse-like quality. He looked every bit monstrous and evil that Shruthi had mentioned he was in the books to her. "What do you know about that?" He spoke in a low tone that was oozing a threat.
Jane prayed that her friend had the sense to not stir the Potions professor any further, "We can't say it in words. We-We've been trying for weeks now. Please, put down your wand and we'll do our best to explain it to you," Shruthi said as calmly as she could manage but her voice cracked once as the wand was pressed further into the hollow of her neck. Snape's eyes squinted in disbelief, "We are on the same side. We want the same thing. Please, we're trying to tell you that."
Snape snapped at Jane while his eyes never strayed from Shruthi, "If you can't say it, write it then. There's a quill on my table."
"No, we tried that too," Shruthi interrupted. "Remember when you tried to confiscate that piece of parchment I was passing to Hannah–no, Susie?–no, I don't know, one of them last Tuesday?" She should've felt a little embarrassed about not knowing the girls that she followed around for most of the day, but this was not the time.
"There was nothing on that parchment," Snape said, a vein of ire throbbing at his forehead, "I thought you were being clever with me." He remembered snatching it away from the girl's hand with a smug expression on his face, only for it to fade away when he saw nothing written on it. It irritated him so much that he made Shruthi scrub the second-year Potions floors on her hands and knees instead of mopping it normally.
"I wrote things on there; I promise I wasn't being clever! I knew you would try to read it in front of the class so I tried writing the things I–we can't say to you," Shruthi swallowed thickly and used her index finger to try to lower the wand tip but it didn't budge. "We have an idea. Are you familiar with charades?"
"I am," he answered with a jutting of his jaw. Jane brightened momentarily but still knew that the situation was delicate. She made a movement with her hands firstly with her palms pressed together and then opening out to prayer several times. "A book?" Jane nodded and then pointed to him. "About me?" Like Shruthi and her hand practised several times over she rolled her index fingers quickly. "And…" Jane drew a lightning shape on her forehead and made circles with her fingers and pressed them over her eyes. "Harry Potter?"
Snape groaned, "Of course, there are books about me and Potter. I am well respected in the field of Potions being the youngest Master of Potions in Europe, and Potter is well, quite a celebrity himself." His disgust rolled off his tongue at the mention of Harry Potter when he wasn't forced to see the boy daily in his classroom. It vexed him greatly that there were far more books dedicated to Harry Potter's heroics as an infant rather than Snape's academic achievements. People always love the fantastical when it was all just dumb luck.
Jane shook her head no and pointed to herself. "There are books about you?" Snape said in a bored tone. Jane shook her head again, but it was Shruthi who carried the point. She pointed to Snape's wand and crossed her index fingers. "No wand… No magic?" Shruthi pointed to herself. "Books about Muggles. Yes, there's quite a few–" She made a furious writing motion in the air. "Books written by Muggles?" Both girls pointed to him. "Books written by Muggles about me and Harry Potter?"
"Yes, yes!" Jane cheered, knocking Snape's wand from her friend's throat, and pulling her close to her side. Snape looked deep in thought, he found that to be an impossible statement since he hadn't had any presence in the Muggle world since he turned eighteen. He made sure that his identity was wiped from any Muggle systems since he didn't want the legal trouble of maintaining one while living as a wizard. He's seen the difficulties that Lucius Malfoy faced when he wanted to conduct business with the Muggles. The only Muggle connection he has is his father's home which was currently in the name of one of Lucius' many identities that he spent his summers in. His moment of reminiscence was foiled as he looked at the two sheepish witches in front of him, he felt Jane tug at his robe sleeve as they both walked towards the door.
"And where do you think you two are going?" Both girls froze on the spot with a subtle Immobulus charm on the bottom of their shoes. "You still have detention with me, and this was a very poor distraction."
"He doesn't believe us," Jane mumbled to Shruthi.
"Hang on. We can't give up now," Shruthi replied with renewed conviction. She rubbed at the redness on her throat and thanked her deep complexion which meant that Snape's abuse never showed. "If you come to the bookshop with us, you'll see we aren't lying. Please, sir, you must believe us, you're the only one that can help." Snape raised a single eyebrow at the sight, he hadn't heard both girls plead before. Most students learned to grovel after a single interaction, but not these two. They've held firm till now, and they were earnest from a quick glimpse into their unprotected minds.
"I'll go to the bookshop, and you will stay right here and start washing those cauldrons," he sneered. He was surprised at himself for potentially falling for a youthful ruse. He had enough of them coming from those twin Weasleys. He recalled how Jane had insistently pestered him to go to the bookshop with her during one of their daily outings to the Muggle town and he had brushed her off with a warning to not waste his money on frivolous hobbies. The Hogwarts library had a vast collection of Muggle books when the student population of Muggle-borns exponentially grew after Albus Dumbledore was elected headmaster. The first book that was bought was the bible, and the second was some sort of stupid superhero comic.
Jane and Shruthi were elbows deep in the murky sink water scrubbing away at the pewter, copper, and gold cauldrons with a metal scourger when the iron door of the classroom swung open. Severus Snape looked bewildered and was breathing heavily as he dumped eight books onto the last benches of the classroom. The two girls wiped their hands dry on their robes and hurried over to the man, who looked like he was on the verge of an apology but was too shocked for one. His left hand rested on the dark blue cover art of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince .
He left the room abruptly, entering the classroom down the hall dedicated to his N.E.W.T-level students. Long strides took him towards the wooden cupboard near his desk where he hurriedly dug through the piles of discarded Potion textbooks that were left by students in the past. He threw the wrong books to the ground continuing to dig through. Snape mentally reminded himself that he should have the girls organise this later. He returned to the pair, who still had not said a single word and opened the cover to read the inscription in his cursive handwriting from his youth.
This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.
"Leave me," he commanded with a strained voice.
"He's not here today," Draco Malfoy told Blaise Zabini in that nasal voice that irritated Jane to no end, especially every morning at breakfast. Despite her sitting at the end of the Slytherin house table, Malfoy's acrid voice still penetrated the air. She looked towards the staff table that had taken Draco's interest today and found Severus Snape missing from the usual lineup. Gossip filtered down the table towards Jane, and she discovered that the official excuse for the missing professor was that he had caught a summer cold. But she knew that he was holed up in his bedroom pouring over the books he got last night. She listened to Malfoy whine about missing Potions today accompanied by his signature statement that his father would hear about his godfather's sickness over her lost appetite.
The rest of the school was jolly at the sudden loss of the Potion Master. There was no teacher to replace him which meant that the school was free from his wrath for at least a day. She looked across the hall, peering through the gaps of the students sitting at other tables as best as she could to spot Shruthi mirroring her nerves. An insane temptation niggled at her ear to disturb the man so she could ask about his thoughts since he seldom showed them on his ugly face. She drowned it with a goblet of water as the news of 'no Potions today' died down in the hall and was replaced with the buzz of excitement from the student body anticipating the arrival of the two other wizarding schools next week.
Those clouding thoughts distracted both girls for the rest of the school day, but their absentmindedness wasn't reprimanded by the other professors. They gave both transfer students the benefit of the doubt as they were still settling into Hogwarts and catching up on the curriculum. Most felt a sense of pity at the sheer disadvantage that faced the girls as they were expected to produce fourth-year level spells when they still hadn't yet been able to produce any first-year ones. The distracted Jane accidentally walked towards Potions on habit before realising why the corridor was missing the usual boisterous conversation from the Gryffindors. It was only after school, that both Shruthi Patel and Jane Becker agreed to venture down into the depths of Hogwarts to see Severus Snape to serve detention.
They spotted the Potion professor already waiting at his desk through the slat between the iron door, but there was another man with him. The other man didn't need to turn to be identified, his profile was unique as Severus Snape's looming figure. He hunched over on his left side as most of his leg had been replaced by a wooden prosthetic that was clawed at the end. He could be heard before he could be seen; by rhythmic–clack, thump, clack, thump–when he walked the long hallways of Hogwarts castle. He cloaked himself in a non-traditional brown leather robe that had the back of his collar upright. When he turned about his crooked shoulder, the electric blue magical glass eye swivelled around before freezing on Jane. The other half of his face looked like it was melting to the floor with his age and battle experience, giving him a permanent frown.
"Professor Snape, Professor Moody," Jane acknowledged both men as she held the door open for Shruthi.
"Severus told me that you know who I really am," Professor Moody growled in his hoarse voice. He hastily took a metal flask fastened on his belt from his right hip and stared at it for a moment with his small, good grey eye. The other one rattled around for a bit before settling to look behind his head towards the seated Snape. "Or was that the other one?"
"Barty Crouch Junior," Shruthi greeted the man with more confidence than she should've possessed at the moment. There was a stinging feeling in her toes from the rush of adrenaline that her anxiety provided, she just wished that sensation wouldn't occur so frequently–especially in uncalled-for situations like when she was trying to go to sleep.
"Say it any louder and the whole school would've heard." Moody had an accent underneath his gruff tone. Shruthi wasn't knowledgeable on British accents to distinguish the location it originated from but it was different from Snape's. How long would it have taken Barty Crouch Jr. to master Moody's accent or was it like his own before? She wondered about how his own accent might have changed due to his decade-long imprisonment. She hadn't seen a house elf yet but if they spoke anything like Dobby, surely, he would've adopted some of their deferential vocabulary if he wasn't already driven crazy.
"The door is soundproof." Snape snorted at Shruthi's directness and folded his hands together on his teacher's desk. The candles that had been sitting there before had melted their wax leaving circles and drips on the wooden surface. A small, black spider hurried across the parchment, and he swatted it away. Another thing for them to clean, he added to his mental list.
Shruthi discovered that cool fact about the nature of dungeon doors when she arrived early to Potions one afternoon and realised she couldn't hear the class inside. Initially, she thought they were silent, as Snape liked maintaining a quiet classroom but she couldn't even hear the crackles of fire that came from underneath the bubbling cauldrons. Moody cleared his throat roughly whilst he uncapped the flask to take hurried swallows with some of the Polyjuice potion dribbling out the corner of his mouth.
Snape and Barty had been talking all afternoon after Snape had skimmed through the books during the past night. His eyes were more sunken into his face today, but his mind was still sharp. "You know who I am and why I am here. Severus has told me who you are, and we both have agreed you're no longer needed to be here."
Barty hobbled across the floor with a clacking noise against the stones polished by hundreds of shoes. Each hobble increased Shruthi's heart rate as she fumbled for her wand. She pointed it at his chest with an outstretched arm, "He's told me that you can't use that, Mudblood."
"He could be lying to you," Shruthi denied hastily, "I don't think you want to test me after you've taught me the Unforgivables." Her lesson from Moody with the Unforgivables wasn't quite like the books or movies, but Jane told her that hers was. Maybe Barty had reserved the theatrics for the main characters, which disappointed her since she was excited to witness the nail-biting tension that the scene carried.
Moody swept all his remaining hair over to the left side of his skull, the eyebrow of his good eye raised which wrinkled his forehead. "You're threatening to kill me?" Maybe it wasn't an accent, maybe he sounds like that because he's missing half his nose?
"You can't kill a man who's supposed to be dead, sir." Her heart had wedged itself into her throat.
"Let's say that you do get that to work, and you kill me. The Aurors are called, perhaps, they think that Severus Snape was Dumbledore's loyal bitch to the end and killed a Death Eater. An Unforgivable is still punishable by lifelong imprisonment in Azkaban; I would know best," Moody's half frozen face was unused to smiling so it looked grotesque as Barty pulled it apart for his grin. "He's not going to Azkaban for you, he'll tell them it was you. They'll run your wand and find out that it last cast the Killing Curse."
"It's not my wand," Shruthi spat with the knowledge that it belonged to someone else before and it hadn't imprinted on her yet. "And like you said, no one's ever seen me cast anything from it. I'll just tell them Snape took it from me, it's not the first time he's confiscated it from me for 'silly wand waving'." Barty kept smiling and stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
He felt something poke at his side and looked over his shoulder to see Jane dig in a Potions' scalpel against his back, "Let her go."
His blue glass eye spun around recklessly as he let out a booming cackle that echoed around the room. His hand trembled as he wiped a tear of amusement from his other eye, "I can see what Severus sees in the both of you." He flicked his hand, and the scalpel went flying from Jane's hand and impaled itself on the door of one of the cupboards nearby. Simultaneously, he grabbed Shruthi's wand and disarmed her manually. "I think I'll start keeping an eye on you too, I don't want to miss the fun anymore." No one laughed at his pun.
"Was that some sort of fucked up test?" Shruthi chided the man, bending down to pick up her wand from the floor. She couldn't use it as intended but it still looked sharp enough to hurt if she wedged it into somebody's eye or ear.
"We don't trust idiots," Barty smirked as he held out a hand that was missing the first knuckle of his ring finger for Shruthi to help herself up by. His father would be proud that even after a decade of being imprisoned in Castle Crouch, he still had remnants of his pure-blood etiquette training. Shruthi didn't hold onto his arm and straightened up herself, tucking back a length of her hair behind her ear. Barty just gave a polite smile, "Good, I don't like touching Muggles."
"We wouldn't want to catch a disease now, would we?" Shruthi sneered as she brushed past him with their shoulders colliding aggressively to walk to Snape's desk. He had arranged the desk with three more chairs, two wooden ones from the student benches and another like his own with more cushioning. Shruthi looked at Jane, as she held the velvet green trimmed armchair out by its back and let her friend sit down before taking the chair closest to her. Barty hobbled over and with a pained moan, he sat down in the final chair, his leg knocking against Shruthi's. She looked at Barty who gave her a wolfish smile (or well, something along those lines with Moody's half-frozen face).
"You lot should learn how to respect your elders," Barty groaned as he used both of his hands to manoeuvre his wooden leg into a more comfortable position. He loathed playing 'Mad Eye' Moody, he swore if he ever aged this badly, he would take himself out after downing a bottle of Ogden's best.
"Show us these elders and we'll respect them." Jane leaned back against the soft back of her chair with her hands coming to rest comfortably against the polished wood. The ends curled around into a butt and resembled Barty's right foot. Barty snorted before taking another drink from his flask, coughing and sputtering afterwards.
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen," Jane looked at Shruthi with a surprised look on her face.
"You don't sound eighteen… you don't look eighteen."
"You spend your time looking at a lot of eighteen-year old's, huh?" Jane's upper lip curled in disgust. She didn't know how old Barty–Moody, whatever this man in front of her was, but he shouldn't be commenting on any woman's age when he looked like a shrivelled rat.
"Enough!" Snape shouted, forcing the attention of the unlikely group sitting before him back to him. "If I wanted to be in the presence of bickering children, I would sit in the Slytherin common room after a Quidditch match with Gryffindor. Now it's time that we talked about what has brought us together." He waved his hand, and a tea set was summoned to the centre of the table. Snape carefully prepared four cups of black tea and guarded the cups from his guests until he deemed that they had steeped for the recommended period. He added no milk or sugar to his own, but Barty added as much as could fit his cup. Jane took her black like Snape, though she would've preferred coffee. Shruthi added two teaspoons of sugar and a dash of warm milk to hers.
The cups were black porcelain and had matching saucers that were ringed with emerald green snakes. It came with a matching teapot, plates, a small milk jug and a sugar bowl. They were a gift from a Slytherin graduating cohort from five years back. Personally, Snape thought it was a gaudy set but the sentimental nature of it made it impossible for him to throw out. He preferred the cohort after that one that gifted him beautiful goblin-made whisky glasses which got far more use out of him.
He took a steadying breath in; he didn't know how to handle this conversation. Years of subterfuge and spycraft haven't prepared him for the existential crisis that these two have given him. "I believe I owe you a great deal for bringing these prophecies to my attention." He shared them with his Death Eater collegue as soon as he found out the man was in the castle because he needed another to look over them. Wizards can live up to three hundred years old, and Snape was only thirty. He knew the limitations of his knowledge, and he never quite believed in the magical arts of Divination.
"I know the two of you would like to return home to your Muggle dwellings, however, we cannot let you do that." Shruthi placed her cup down roughly onto the plate below it and he secretly hoped she'd shatter it to give him an excuse to rid the set. However, the cup prevailed, and he interrupted her before she could get a word in.
"Prophecies are not set in stone, and Barty and I certainly don't intend to die. You will keep your mouths shut about these books until we decipher their origin. If you're upset by this outcome, you should never have trusted me in the first place." He stared hard at Shruthi to deter any talkback. "You will give up stalking that Creevy boy, it will not yield what you desire. Taking a photograph of a magical photograph will photograph nothing. Magic prevents us from discovery and the Statue of Secrecy prevents any witch or wizard from aiding you with that." If he was a kinder man, he may have praised Shruthi for her ingenuity, but Snape believed that praise is the cause of pride.
"If these books hold truth, we entail to prove them wrong." Barty grumbled in agreement. The origin of the books had been most of their conversation before the two girls joined them. The Dark Lord was in a feeble state being nursed by the imp, Peter Pettigrew. According to Severus Snape, the feebleness wasn't only limited to the Lord's body but also his mind. Right now, Voldemort was not the man that Barty Crouch followed, and it would not be if he could help with that.
Shruthi failed to hide her horrification at the news that Severus Snape wanted to continue being a Death Eater. She had argued at lengths with Jane about the morality of his character, which in both the books and movies was murky at best. She had believed that the intentions of J.K. Rowling had been to write a character that redeems himself from his mistakes as a youth, but it seemed that she failed. Shruthi tossed her next sentence as a last ditch, "What about Lily and Harry?"
"Lily Evans is dead," Snape punctuated with a muscle feathering in his jaw and a cloud swirling in his black eyes. "My life debt to Potter will be resolved when the Lord rises once more. Barty and I have a lot to do before his resurrection, the Lord requires healing both body and mind. It was a failure on his part to not consult me in those books, and I believe that you two have been chosen to deliver this warning to me." The book dulled the true extent of the depravities of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. They wanted genocide and destruction, and Shruthi wanted her and Jane to be as unaffected by that as possible. Snape could see the skittishness rise in the Hufflepuff girl in front of him.
"We don't want to be here if Voldemort is back," Jane was the one to insist. Barty flinched at the mention of his lord's name and his opinion of the Muggle-born diminished considerably. One day, the fear surrounding his name will return, and Muggles and Muggle-borns alike will acknowledge him properly.
"That is a reasonable worry," Snape eased the growing tension that the two girls missed. He noticed the hardening of Barty's eyes and the way his leg bounced with anxiety. "However, both of you cannot leave Hogwarts before graduation without permission from a guardian. The Dark Lord has not returned yet. And if he does before Yule, I promise that no harm will come to the both of you."
Snape watched Shruthi shuffle in her seat uncomfortably, "I want you to swear that," she demanded suddenly. "By an Unbreakable Vow." Snape sucked his upper teeth with his lips closed in irritation, Shruthi Patel was growing on his list of most unlikable students he's had the displeasure of teaching.
"An Unbreakable Vow is done between two magicians," Snape exasperated. You girls are not witches.
"I want you to try anyway, Barty can do the thing with the wand," Shruthi rattled on, unperturbed by Snape's attitude. "I want you to promise that you'll help us with leaving Hogwarts and keep us safe while we're here."
"I don't think you understand the severity of an Unbreakable Vow…" It would shoulder a great responsibility that Severus Snape did not want to burden himself with. He couldn't care if these two girls in front of him lived or died, but a small part of his conscience did tell him that he owed them.
"No, I do, that's why I want one." She could tell that she couldn't trust Snape or Crouch, but she knew how serious an unbreakable vow was in the book. She could picture the scene in her mind. The one in which Narcissa Malfoy had begged on knees for Snape to take one for Draco. There was a pregnant silence in the room as Snape held his tongue and Shruthi held hers. "Please."
Snape choked back at her pleading; he never was entirely immune to a woman's heartfelt pleas. Jane hid her smile at the wavering she saw in his eyes. Maybe the bastard is not as heartless as he thinks he is, she thought. She grabbed her friend's hand, hidden underneath the desk and squeezed in pride. I'm happy it's you that I'm stuck with at this damn school.
Snape agreed with a fake act of displeasure and the four of them began writing out the specifics of the vow. Barty did silently acknowledge their adamant natures and wills to survive. He had a very poor view of Muggles as a whole; they were the inferior class after all. Lesser than house elves in his mind as at least they had magic and a subservient nature.
After a long period of debate the sentences had been agreed upon and the vow was going to be between Severus Snape and Jane Becker. It made the most sense for those two to have this connection, as Snape can always explain it to Dumbledore that he was taking special care of his new Muggleborn ward. The old fool would be pleased.
Will you, Severus Snape, help Jane Becker and Shruthi Patel, to leave Hogwarts
this Yule and protect them from harm while at Hogwarts?
And will you, Jane Becker and Shruthi Patel, keep the existence of all written and visual media of Harry Potter a secret?
And will you, Jane Becker… and Shruthi Patel... to the utmost of your capacities, aid Severus Snape and Barty Crouch Junior, in resurrecting the Dark Lord Voldemort?
The last statement unsettled Jane Becker as she didn't want to help the main villain from the Harry Potter franchise return but Snape had promised that he would advocate on their behalf to Dumbledore to let them return to Australia to finish their magical education. At this very moment, it seemed like a fair price to pay in turn for getting out of this hellhole...
The castle was abuzz with the preparations for the Halloween festivities and the arrival of their foreign guests. Two feasts in two days drove the house elves into madness, making them slave away double-time for the week to decorate and cook. The Triwizard Tournament had been banned across all three schools since 1792, and it was no small feat of the Ministry of Magic to not only reinstate it but also host its return at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The last Hogwarts champion before the ban was Armando Dippet, Albus Dumbledore's predecessor. His portrait has been carefully moved from the tower of the headmaster's study to hang in the Great Hall behind Dumbledore's seat to inspire the students of Hogwarts. Any curious lookers were roped into an hours-long regale of his own tournament, news of which spread quickly throughout Hogwarts and students were wary of walking too close to the staff table.
He was disappointed that the committee had instituted an age requirement for potential champions. The youngest ever champion had just turned thirteen during the tournament itself and what a grand story that was. Armando always loved the story of a proper underdog, and he was starved for gossip now being trapped in the frames of a portrait. No matter how proper a person was during life, when painted, they're forced to watch the living. And the living for the most part are very boring. He should thank the Harry Potter boy for at least giving the portraits around the school something to chatter about.
Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts had the portraits discussing the murder of his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. "He's just a child, are we to believe that he could kill 'quivering' Quirinus?" Dilys Derwent scolded the rest of the portraits in the study.
Armando quite liked Quirinus Quirrell. He was one of the better hires by Dumbledore. Quirrell was a scholar at heart, reminding Armando of himself. It was unfortunate that he was corrupted by the dark arts, but he found that was a common issue with D.A.D.A. professors. Verily, it doth seem a hazard inherent to one's vocation, he chuckled to himself.
"Dilys, this isn't any ordinary child. He did slay the Dark Lord when he was in the crib," Phineas Nigellus Black grumbled as he always did. Out of all the headteachers at Hogwarts, Phineas Black was always the one who complained the most about his job. At this point, the years that he's spent complaining have outnumbered the years he's spent in the position.
Harry's second year was the unpleasant incident to do with the reopening of the fabled Chamber of Secrets. A skeleton in Armando's own closet, and one he never expected to be unearthed. Armando vehemently tried to dissuade Dumbledore from hiring the clumsy half-giant Hagrid, but the man was convinced that the groundskeeper wasn't the true heir of Slytherin. Armando had to agree that Hagrid simply did not fit the character of an heir to Slytherin house in retrospect, but the Ministry was demanding answers and the pressure had gotten to him. It was one of his more regrettable memories during his three-hundred-and-fifty-five years of living.
The year before in comparison to the others was a quiet year for Armando Dippet. Albus Dumbledore did not ask for his council as much. Much to Armando's disappointment he helped with the hiding of the Philosopher's Stone within Hogwarts walls and advised the shutdown of the school the year following. He heard rumours that the Gryffindor portrait had been attacked by an Azkaban escapee, but even that sounded too far-fetched to his mothy ears. While he was still alive, he read in the Daily Prophet the plans to renovate Azkaban Island into a prison for the foulest of witches and wizards after the Ministry cells grew encumbered. He visited only once in his life and agreed silently it was the perfect place to house Dark Arts practitioners.
He was relieved that he no longer hung next to Phineas Nigellus Black. The Black family were known Dark Arts enthusiasts, and he was certain that Phineas was no different from the rest of his family. Though it was not fair to judge a man by his family. He'd had the pleasure of meeting Phineas' great-great-great-grandson Sirius Orion Black. That boy and his friend, James Fleamont Potter were regularly brought to Albus Dumbledore for punishment, though both boys were never reprimanded harshly. Armando found them quite the endearing pair, and they always chatted with him while in the office. Methinks Sirius be the dark lamb of the Black kin, or perchance the pale lamb? Armando mused. He mourned the loss of James when he found out that his son would be attending the school.
The entire school had to the front of the school on the night of the 30th of October 1994 (which was adjusted for Jane and Shruthi to the 30th of October 2019). Inside the Great Hall, the four house tables had been sanded down and revarnished for the incoming visitors. Emerald trimmed with silver, ruby trimmed with gold, black trimmed with gold, and navy blue trimmed with bronze table runners spanned from end to end. Metal candelabras that complemented each house lined the centre, sitting every twenty chairs apart. It had been agreed upon that Dumstraung would be sitting with Slytherin house and Beauxbatons with Ravenclaw, so special attention had been paid to food on those two tables. Dishes from France and Bulgaria had been dispersed across the hall, for the guests to have a slice of home and for the residents of Hogwarts to begin their international relations. Shining tureens that onion soup sat next to ovular glass serving platters of stuffed grape leaves.
The prefects of Hufflepuff had spent the afternoon making sure every Hufflepuff had polished their shoes and had pressed their robes. After which, they all practised the Hogwarts song since Dumbledore had passed the message along to the Heads of Houses that the students were expected to sing it tonight. Cedric Diggory made them practise it until their throats were sore, and the first years began complaining of boredom. Shruthi was grateful for the extra practice since it gave her time to learn the words.
Similar preparations were made in Slytherin House, and Jane discovered that most of her house spoke French. Apparently, it was common for pure-blood children to learn English, Latin and French before attending Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy had spent the afternoon boasting his French skills and telling his posse of followers how the Malfoy family hailed from the eastern ranges of France and immigrated to Scotland with William the Conqueror. Jane watched as Pansy lapped up each word that spilled from Malfoy's lips and swooned when he recited French poetry. Jane had studied a year or two of French in high school, but she recalled absolutely nothing of what she learned after not needing to use the language.
The four houses were corralled on the front lawn and the teachers had changed to their most formal of robes. The Ministry delegates will only arrive once the feast is in full swing due to the long journey from London, where the Ministry is situated, to Hogwarts takes a full day of travel on the Hogwarts Express. The Hogwarts Express only departs from King's Cross station at eleven sharp in the morning and returns to London as a night-time journey. The students of Hogwarts had expected the students of two European wizarding schools to arrive by the same train they take twice a year, but there were hushed whispers of other methods of magical transport.
"I think they'll fly on broomsticks, it's not very far to France from here," Hannah proposed to Susie in a voice loud enough that cause the Prefect nearby to shush her after.
"I wouldn't want to fly that distance, they'll probably just Portkey," Susie grimaced as she imagined what it would be like flying across the sea on a branch of wood. Long distance broomsticks did exist but fell out of favour when easier magical transportation methods were invented. International Portkeys were rare to be made and approved by the two governments sharing them, but the Triwizard tournament would be important enough to approve one. "They did that for the Quidditch World Cup."
"What do you think, Shruthi? Did you come here by Portkey?" Hannah bounced from her left foot to her right and then back again.
"Uh, maybe they'll sail?" Shruthi answered in an uncertain voice. She already knew how the two schools would arrive. She was glad when the most insufferable boy of Hufflepuff chimed in with his commentary to distract Hannah.
"Sail!" Ernie MacMillian scoffed, "That's stupid, they wouldn't sail. I think Durmstrang will ride dragons. I hear there is a dragon sanctuary in Romania." Shruthi shrugged mostly with her left shoulder in acceptance of Ernie's hypothesis. If she hadn't already known the answer, Ernie's made a lot of sense. It would have tied in better with the first round of the tournament as well, but maybe it would've given the Durmstrang champion too much of an advantage.
The clear sunsetting sky suddenly broke out in sudden ear-splitting thunder and every head turned skywards. Exclamations of surprise at the sudden change in weather turned into cheers as a dozen house-sized palomino pegasuses called Abraxans emerged beating down the wind with their wings and hooves. They pulled a fairytale castle-like carriage behind them, and with her eyes shielded from the sun with her hand, Shruthi could make out the pointy blue hats adorned on the heads sticking out of the various windows. She held tightly onto her own black witch's hat as they landed roughly on the manicured grass. Grass and dirt were tossed into the air as the main door to the carriage swung open for Beauxbatons' headmistress, Madame Olympe Maxime.
Jane was close enough to hear the conversation between the blue-coloured robe-wearing witch and Dumbledore who was wearing a technicoloured robe embroidered with a snake, lion, honey badger and eagle along the hem. Madame Maxime spoke with a thick French accent and demanded that the flying horses have specialty care when Hagrid numbly complied with a star-struck look on his wide face.
More than a half-dozen Beauxbatons students were exiting down the glass steps of their carriage as the crow's nest of Durmstrang's mighty ship broke the still barrier of the Great Lake. Colin Creevy almost dropped his camera as he raced to take a picture of the Bulgarian sailing ship. Shouldn't Beauxbatons have sailed and Durmstrang have flown considering their geography? Shruthi wondered, riding in on the back of a dragon would've been really cool. Four great black-coloured sails unfurled from their masts, raining down water over the occupants emerging from the cabins underneath to the deck. They were decorated with the green, yellow and red ominous emblem of the Institute of Magical Study. The ship glided to the very edge of the lake, before lowering its massive gangplank to disembark its occupants.
"Is that Victor Krum?" Ron whispered in pure excitement as a drenched boy in furs emerged last accompanied by Igor Karkaroff, the Death Eater deserter turned headmaster. It took them some time to hike up the hill from the shoreline to join everyone. A few other wizards nearby caught wind and the students from Beauxbatons were quickly forgotten as the Quidditch celebrity joined the fray. Dumbledore quickly greeted the man who looked like his younger brother. He had Dumbledore's blue eyes but unlike the Hogwarts headmaster, they did not twinkle in amusement.
The Slytherins quickly accepted their new Durmstrang buddies, and Draco moved to a position to be right next to Krum so he could begin schmoozing the international Quidditch star. The blond immediately began inquiring into the older boy's journey to their school which he only received grunts as answers. Snape reluctantly walked in time with Karkaroff, trading only the necessary small talk about the trip to Hogwarts. Flitwick on the other hand forced Madame Maxime to constantly bend down as he began introducing the various features of the castle to his guest. The Gryffindors did their best to tail behind the two houses but for the first time since Harry Potter's arrival were sidelined just like the Hufflepuffs.
"Do you think we'll see any of them in our classes?" Hannah puzzled innocently, glancing at the pretty uniforms that the Beauxbatons students wore. Shruthi kept silent, they wouldn't be joining us for whatever reason and taking their classes in their transportation. She always thought that was strange considering they'd come all this way for the competition, why wouldn't they take classes at Hogwarts as well? Perhaps their curriculums were different but surely there was some international standard for what needs to be taught to a magician? And even if they were to join Hogwarts classes, they would've only brought students that met the age requirement so it would only be the N.E.W.T.s students that get to see them.
"I hope we see them in Quidditch," Ernie burst into the conversation with an awe-struck look on his face. "I want to see Krum do the Wronski Feint again!" He almost tripped over a loose bit of pavement as the entire school headed towards the Great Hall for the feast. Justin and Zacharias chimed in with other quidditch moves from the recent World Cup, which quickly devolved into an all-out debate on whether or not Krum should have caught the snitch when he did.
"I don't think they're allowed to," Susan chewed on her bottom lip nervously as walked back to the Great Hall. "I heard from my Auntie that the Ministry is really concerned about the security for the Tournament considering the stuff that happened at the World Cup. She said that the whole Tournament almost got cancelled because of it… Oops, I don't think I was supposed to tell anyone that." Ernie looked crestfallen at the news, and Shruthi tried to recall why her roommate would know sensitive government information (and failed to remember).
