Lily made faces at her porridge because it was a non-shagging morning. If Sev had a lot of homework left over, he told her the evening before in the library. She understood since he was still in detention too, and he said he needed to get more than a couple hours sleep each night now.
They always had a standing appointment on Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday morning each week so she was getting her … void filled regular.
Ditching Mary on Valentine's Day was going to be a necessity, even if she had to tell Mary they were … doing more than kissing. Lily almost wished it was a werewolf day for Mary.
She received a very large, flat envelope from home and her copy of The Prophet. After she scanned the front page of the paper, she opened the envelope. Her parents mailed her an entire copy of a newspaper. Lily saw why immediately – the Dark Mark was on the front page of her local muggle paper.
They attacked the same pub Black and Potter did last summer? If wizards hated Manchester United, why weren't they over in Manchester instead of Cokesworth?
Her mother's letter was short.
Severus could have this copy, they bought extra and … Lily opened the paper to the page her mother listed. Uh, Sev's father? But why were all these muggles killed? What did they have to do with wizards? And Sev's father was … all this? And the rest of the drunks were decorated veterans?
Lily looked at the date of the paper … why hadn't someone said something to Severus so he could go home? Or did no one care to help him get there? He could apparate well enough in class to get himself there, if they got permission. Maybe she could go too? What about his mum? She didn't have an owl. Maybe she could … apparate up here? Lily didn't know.
Lily looked over at the Slytherin table. Sev still sat with the younger lads, and his raven was on his shoulder.
She agreed that Phi was in danger from other students. Owls were rather common, but even they were targeted by the toerags around here. How should she tell him? Just hand him the newspaper? Open to this page or the front page? Now, or wait till breakfast was over so she didn't look real obvious going over there?
She became distracted because it appeared an intense discussion had gotten underway at the Head Table, and Hagrid's voice carried … something about Slughorn.
The staff that were here had their copies of the paper open.
Lazy ass probably decided to accept someone's invitation to go to Majorca, rather than get Severus home. She flipped through her copy looking for Slughorn doing something juvenile. Maybe with the headmaster, he was away and missed dinner AND dessert yesterday.
Before she hit the sports section at the back, Lily found Eileen Snape, 1930-1977, widowed … well, now she would have been, one son, Severus. Died at home.
Looking over, it looked like the Slytherins were finding it too, but only Lily knew what happened to his father.
She stood … it was too late. Sev looked at it now.
Obviously the widowed needed explanation, but Prof. Abstractus got there way before her and left with Sev, even though she called out.
Lily changed direction to speak to Prof. McGonagall.
Orion Black was incensed when Cygnus told him that Bellatrix's, and subsequently the Black family, claim to the Lestrange fortune was being held up by the Ministry since muggle witnesses claimed she murdered both Rodolphus and Rabastan. The only two heirs left between her and the immense Lestrange fortune. Was she fucking insane? The whole reason they married her to Rodolphus was for the Lestrange fortune and she threw it away?
Andromeda marrying a muggle, his eldest son, Sirius, no longer welcome in England, all they had left for the next generation was Narcissa and his dutiful son, Regulus.
Only Regulus would carry their proud name onward at this point. He advised his close cousin that perhaps Druella still had another one in her. Walburga was older than him, so unless she passed soon, Orion would have no more children of his own to bank the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black on.
Severus was puzzling out his mother's obituary, when Prof. Abstractus interrupted his thoughts about 'widowed'.
He already knew from Pettigrew, that the magic quill that scribed these might literally take his father predeceased his mother by seconds made her a widow, rather than something happening to his father that left his mother alone for a longer period of time.
The school would have known, if something happened to his father before now. There were plenty of students from muggle families, and Hogwarts had its own magic quills. One put all their names in a book as they were born, and another wrote their letters notifying them that they were admitted to Hogwarts.
Somehow they ended up in the Arithmancy teacher's office.
Atlas tried to floo Slughorn. The flames turned green, but there was no reply.
Sighing, Severus sat down. His teacher met his eyes briefly, but turned away.
He knew Abstractus was not good with emotional type things. Severus was not carrying on, but he had no idea what had happened yet. He'd rather wait till he knew something. However, he'd like some information soon. Sitting around here was not going to help.
It was unlikely the Prophet's quill was in error. Severus thought he should have felt something, even if he did not know what it was at the time. Something mysterious and magical. He had very few people in his life so if one of them died, he would expect some sign.
While occupying himself with mentally cataloging the different anecdotal evidence regarding death of loved ones and possible spells, Prof. Abstractus's grate flared green.
"Atlas?" asked Prof. McGonagall.
"Yes, Minerva?"
"Any luck with Horace?"
"No."
"Is Severus with you?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to come through."
Prof. McGonagall spun a full turn out of the fireplace, but did it gracefully.
Her eyes focused on Severus, "Miss Evans had received mail this morning, and she had details regarding your father. He was killed by Death Eaters."
"Death Eaters? My father was a muggle. My family has nothing to do with that."
"I think it best if you were to be taken home immediately. I would, Severus, but with the Headmaster away, I need to stay at the school. Prof. Sprout will meet you in the Front Hall. She and other teachers gladly volunteered to escort you."
Severus felt it was rather late to go home. His mother was dead already.
At least it wasn't Slughorn. He didn't want that bastard in his house, probably demand he serve him tea and cake or some other asinine thing.
"All right," he replied, starting to blink rapidly.
He can't cry.
He needed to retrieve his cloak from Slytherin. There was a need for thought, crying could come later once he knew what he needed to cry over. "I need to go to the dungeons for my cloak."
"I'll come with you," Minerva said with uncharacteristic warmth.
He nodded and silently led the way from the seventh floor downwards, while he thought. Lily. Why would Lily know how his father died? It did not happen yesterday or probably even the day before. Death Eaters meant the Ministry knew. Did they even connect the Death Eaters in a town that had no wizards at all with two Hogwarts students? They had a case from last summer, unless Potter and Black's family had them burn it, as if it never happened. Burning it might be the normal way the Ministry filed their criminal investigations of wizards attacking muggles.
Returning his mind to the original thought, his mother had been on her own for at least two days. Did she suffer? Was she even aware his father did not come home? Was it lack of food, water, or heat that finally killed her? She could have fallen on the stairs, if she went to get her wand.
During the winter, especially this cold, she would have been in the kitchen till it was time for bed. The stove kept the house warm, but it was the only room that was comfortable enough for someone to sit still. There was a tiny one in his parents' bedroom that they used at night when it got like this. He remembered sleeping in there … when the ice got thick on top of the river, and the wind could be felt moving the walls and the second floor swayed. There would be ice on the inside of his bedroom window, and the water that his mother put in the pitcher for him at night would also get ice on top. One time it froze completely and the pitcher cracked, but she fixed that.
Severus unwarded his redecorated 'blood traitor' trunk and got his cloak.
"Perhaps you can leave your familiar here? Birds like that in a muggle town ..."
"I can't leave her here. It's too dangerous. She doesn't care for Evans either for me to leave her with Lily. She doesn't need to stay on my shoulder, or she can go back to the Clock Tower. It's cold so she'll find her way back into the school, and might get into trouble."
Minerva's lips thinned as she thought and looked around. There was no cage for it in here, and Holy …!
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the other boys' retreats, and looked at Snape's again. His and another were ... unobjectionable. "Mr. Snape, please point out to me who sleeps where in this room."
Severus rather expected that question once he saw her peer into Mulciber's feast of flesh for the eyes of a degenerate. "Muffliato."
He gave her that information and then suggested, "If the bird is coming with me … I can say more ..."
"Yes, as long as you are cautious."
"Mulciber's trunk is what you'll find most interesting, Professor. He only has the tame things on the walls."
That could turn into an interesting circular case of circumstance. This started when Severus's father was killed by Death Eaters, and it ends up with the vile stash of pornography that Mulciber enjoyed and used to lure other lads into discussions about what they'd like to do with mudblood and muggle women.
Severus understood that talk of high ideals and principles usually hid something else, but luring teen boys into pureblood rhetoric with dirty pictures? Was it only him that saw it was not a doorway to an ideal wizarding utopia? Of course, being a worthless half-blooded blood traitor, his insignificant mind could not comprehend such things.
Bellatrix had made up her mind about the order in which to avenge her humiliation and painful treatment. First to the continent, to sort little baby Sirius, and then to wipe that filthy, putrescent pimple of a muggle town off the map, leaving only a smoldering crater.
She was interrupted from her musing of how she was going to make little ickle Sirry cry when the orgasmic pain of her master summoning her shot through her arm and washed over her body. She allowed herself a brief moment of enjoyment with her head lolling back and her toes curling in ecstasy before she apparated to kneel before the man she loved.
"My Lord."
"Bella, Bella, Bella," Voldemort crooned. "Do you see your service to me as a way to improve your circumstances?"
"Of course, my Lord."
"Crucio."
Releasing the spell, he then asked, "And who says who should live or die, my dear Bella?"
"You, only you, my Lord."
"Exactly. Avada Kedavra."
Prof. Sprout attempted to take his hand a number of times during their walk to the gates. Severus eventually crossed his arms and shoved his hands under his armpits, pretending he was that cold to stop the awkwardness.
He wished Lily was with him for the walk. Severus did not want her to see his dead mother, but other than that, he'd like her company. Lily was all he had left … except for this damned bird.
He had to allow his hand to be held for the side-along apparating. It was more unpleasant when someone else did the deed.
After scanning the colorless river bank, Severus knew where they were and started off, with the frozen reeds snapping off as he pushed through them.
Phi left his shoulder.
The river appeared to be frozen solid. When they were little, he and Lily speculated that there was very little water left in the river, since so much else ended up in it. Even when it was frozen, old habits die hard. There was a lot of refuse thrown atop it, waiting for the river to thaw and get washed away downstream to a town that must be that much filthier than theirs.
Even with the bitter cold, the smell of … home was still identifiable. Without the mud, it was easier to walk along the river, rather than risk what could be outdoors laying in wait for pedestrians in the warren of narrow streets and houses around Spinner's End.
Severus led Prof. Sprout through the alley next to his house so they could use the front door. He doubted that either of his parents had cleared in front of the kitchen door since he had been away. Although that would make it so much simpler to go out back to use the garden. There were times Severus doubted he could be their son since he thought so much differently than them.
He went up to the door and asked admittance. It opened for him.
Severus hesitated before stepping out of Prof. Sprout's way, and glanced about a bit before jerking his head, urging Phi to shoot into the open door so hopefully no one saw a large bird fly into the house.
Prof. Sprout already lit her wandtip. "Is there anyone else besides you and your parents?"
"No, professor. She's most likely in the kitchen. It's warmest there with the stove."
Severus turned and pushed at the kitchen door. He heard the glass bottles being pushed on the other side of the door. His mother had gotten up after his father had left the house for the last time, or at least moved enough to knock bottles around.
His mother was in her chair. He walked around, since she was facing the windows, as she normally did. It was a relief that her eyes were closed.
Her tea cup was empty and placed on the table, as if waiting for a refill.
He could not resist touching her as he took a deep breath and his eyes teared up.
Initially, Prof. Sprout had planned to stay close to her student, but that plan sort of went out to the window when she reached the kitchen doorway and froze. Shoddy furniture with walls covered in books was plausible, but this …
After a couple harder pokes to convince himself that his mother was not sleeping, despite the lack of visible respiration. Severus wiped his eyes and concentrated. This may be his only opportunity to figure out … whatever. There was a smell of urine, not unexpected since she was without father for longer than was reasonable.
He moved to look at the coal bin. Empty. In this sort of cold, his father ensured it was completely filled every week when he was paid. Whether it was one or six days from that date till his father's death, Severus did not know. From the way the scoop was dropped on the floor, that was from his mother. His father put things away. Which reminded him … no dirty dishes. She had not eaten, or at least off a plate or from a bowl since his father last ate with her.
He cast a temperature taking charm on his mother, then a normal one on the room. Memorizing those two numbers, Severus would need to look up how fast a body cooled. Dead the entire night? Or early this morning, just before the newspaper was printed?
It was cold in here. For her body to still be in the high 80s (F, 30-32C) … he suspected that she was not deceased very long. Maybe because she was dressed warmly, it was keeping the body heat trapped. He cast a timing charm onto the table. He could take her temperature again and work out how fast she was cooling by the differences in time and temperature.
There was nothing resembling a written message. Severus even looked at the mildewed ceiling.
Her wand? If it were on her … he did not want to search through her clothing. It would be easier to look upstairs, but should he leave her?
He was growing choked up again ... he didn't want to leave her. He should have been here for her to take care of her. She was his mother. Others might not think she was much, but she was the only one he had.
Phi glided in past Prof. Sprout's patched hat and landed on his shoulder.
Ravens did things to bodies, especially eyes if he remembered, or was that just something said to scare people? Maybe he should take the bird upstairs and put her in his room till they left.
"Professor, I'm going to look upstairs. Could you please not alter the temperature in this room? I'm curious about my mother's … um, so I … well anyway. Could you excuse me?"
Severus did not know why she was here if she did not expect that it was likely they'd find his mother's body. If she gave it some thought, this was probably as good as it could be. No blood, eyes closed, sitting nice in a chair, rather than twisted and mangled in some way.
Pomona started … this was … all the bottles … she shuddered and got out of the way, stepping into the kitchen.
Normally, she felt at home in the kitchen. It was her favorite room in any house. Well, unless they had a particularly spectacular greenhouse attached, but that usually meant an excellent kitchen to match.
She understood how the stove worked, and repeated Severus' observation that there was no longer any fuel.
The stockpot on the stove contained a liquidy mixture, with a wave of her wand, Pomona got a few bits of solid matter to come off the bottom. There were coarse, black hairs on one of them. Not encouraging.
Guiltily, she picked up and examined one of the bottles. Spirits, as she thought. Muggle, but there was a great deal of information on the label. That was quite helpful … 25% alcohol was as strong as what wizarding equivalent? Who drank all these ... his mother ... his father ... both of them?
There was no bread box or something to keep food chilled so she started looking through the cabinets. She found the shelf containing the only food, a partially used can of oatmeal with an illustration of a strapping highlander on it, a tin of something called mushy mint sauce, that Pomona paused to read contained peas, not some sort of dressing for lamb, but supposed that was a possibility, an almost empty lidded tube of beef gravy granules, gooseberries in syrup, and finally a tin of new potato's [sic].
She continued searching, but did not find anything else other than that many cabinets were empty. They had a limited number of mismatched dishes, but all were put away neatly, sorted by common use. Pots were stored underneath. Not many. Even the kettle was stored beneath. Bit backwards to keep that other pot out, and not the kettle.
Scratching her head, Pomona realized the sink drained through a pipe out the back wall. Nothing kept the cold air out, or whatever could crawl up it. She placed her hand over the drain, but it was not drafty. That was somewhat better … but no water coming in, or a simple pump? There were two buckets. Not ones she would even use to carry water for her plants.
Upstairs, Severus shut Phi into his bedroom before entering his parents' room. The bed was perfectly made. His mother had not been up here since his father left.
He opened the lid on the lengthwise box where her wand was kept, and took it out. If she had it with her, would it have made a difference? He looked at it and got weepy again.
Severus did not know what he was supposed to do here. He knew it was nice of Prof. Sprout to bring him here, but she didn't seem to be helping.
He opened a drawer, still despairing that he had no clue what he should be doing. His parents did not have a lot of things. His mother's clothes were all the same black things she currently had on. She rarely wore undergarments, but they were black too. Not like Lily's frilly, lacy things with designs printed on them. Mother probably had on wool tights with a pair of woolen socks in a pair of his father's boots that had been shrunk down enough to fit her feet. Once it got warm enough, she usually went barefoot and then got hurt stepping on things.
In the smaller drawers of the chest, he found some boxes. Gobstones, more gobstones, a chess set, and gobstones with keys. Probably to vaults and houses full of gobstones, he thought sarcastically. Some of these stone were quite nice looking, but Severus never caught onto the purpose of the game. It seemed like a waste of time and then to get something spit in your face? He could get that talking to most of Slytherin when they did not want homework assistance. Some of the keys may be Gringotts keys. They had numbers on them like the one he had. Perhaps more of the Prince books were in them, or if Severus was given permission to use these, store his mother's books there? He could probably fit a lot of them in the empty vault to which he had a key. They were probably safe here for now. No one in Spinner's End would think his parents stored valuables here, and his mother's magic on the house seemed to have held since it was based on family ties. As long as Severus was alive, well, once he was dead, what did he care what happened to books?
The last box on the bottom of the drawer was full of parchment. He rolled his eyes at the top one naming his mother captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones team in September, 1945 and shut the lid. Sighing, he decided he should take this to look through later. He also picked out the keys and put them with the chess set. Lily had a chess set from a Christmas cracker. Not that he felt like playing, but if she wanted a game, he now had one.
He found his father's drawers to be more useful. Newer jumpers and braces, and best of all, socks that were practically new. Severus also took the better pairs of trousers.
His father's medals were altogether in one case in the bottom drawer. Severus had seen them before, and realized this case was procured for this set since they fit neatly, with the ribbons flat, but there was no room in it for more medals.
He had vague recollections about his father talking about some of it … but it was a jumble.
His mother's fairy tales of Hogwarts and magic sort of erased them.
He looked at the engraved brass plaque on the outside, his father's name, 40 Commando Royal Marines and Per Mare Per Terram. There was also more paperwork. It was probably more substantial in content than his mother's, so Severus added it to the top of her box of paper. At least he could count on his father not to puzzle him by saving boxes of spitting marbles.
Turning back to close the drawer, there were ticket stubs left on the bottom that were smaller than the paper he grabbed. He felt ridiculous as he started crying again. They were from the two times his father took him to Manchester matches. He couldn't remember if it was a bus or coach, but a lot of the other fellows went, along with some boys that were older than Severus. He could still remember the scores as he looked at the tickets. Manchester beat Chelsea 2-1 on 19 March 1963, and Leyton Orient 3-1 on 18 May 1963. His favorite player was George Best, who was a new winger and started playing for the club at only 17.
The first one against Chelsea was important. His father told him repeatedly what a privilege it was to attend this game, he should be on his best behavior and not say stupid things. He did well, behaved better than the older boys, answered questions only when directly asked by others, and his father was happy with him. Severus rethought that last bit – happy? Yes, his father had been very pleased. If not, he would not have burdened himself with Severus for the second match.
That one did not go as well. Mancester won, of course, but Severus was given a lot to eat by the fellows with them, especially candy. That's why he didn't like sweets. Now he remembered. He felt ill and he was going to throw up, but he didn't. He remembered his father would be very angry if he did, but how … maybe wandless magic? He still felt terrible but they got home all right without his father yelling or hitting him so it seemed like another success, but his mother did something while they were away … what did she do? There was a lot of yelling, but Severus was so sick he spent all night out back, lying in the garden, curled up and holding his stomach, with cramps and diarrhea.
His father would take him to watch the games at the pub now and again, but they never went to see any more played in person. Severus tried to remember more about those outings. He couldn't read well yet. There was a lot of drinking and going into bathrooms. Severus knew to stick close to his father, and father would pick him up and hold him so he could see better. He couldn't recall his father telling him anything specific or important, but Severus had been three at the time so Tobias's mates were the ones his father would actually converse with.
Opening the chest where they stored spare bedding, almost empty since all the blankets were on the bed, Severus grabbed a worn pillowcase and packed his new clothes. In a second one, he put a better pair of steel-toed boots, the paperwork, his mother's wand in its box, his father's medals, and the chess set with keys. Shrunken down, they fit nicely into his trouser pockets.
Stumped by his next course of action, Severus sat down on the edge of his parents' bed and looked around the room, even at the ceiling. It was in worse shape than his. Standing, he closed their door and looked at the back of it. There was no special message meant exclusively for him, was there? It was rather childish to think there would be, but he really wanted one. He scanned the room again, hoping he missed something.
He opened the door, and started because Prof. Sprout was on the landing and she had lit it.
Ugh. Their house was much better kept dark. There was dirt and dead bugs, even up on the ceiling in old cobwebs. The walls were distressed, with gouges of plaster missing and whatever wood supports inside it exposed. Severus was used to it. His parents used to argue much more, and each of them and objects would frequently come into contact with furniture, walls, and doors. The bottom of his own door was heavily scarred with kick marks. Since it was the outside, those would have been made by his parents. Severus kicked the inside of the door.
"Your parents' bedroom?"
Did she feel she was entitled to a tour of the house for bringing him here? "Yes, professor," he replied, without removing himself from their doorway. He closed it, waiting for her to object.
"And this is...?" she asked, indicating the only other door up here.
"My room." He opened the door since he figured he was done up here and needed to retrieve the bird. Phi had not damaged anything. Nothing was out of place, and no farewell missives were left on his dresser or his washstand.
Prof. Sprout stood in the doorway.
He was annoyed. Did she expect something palatial and grandiose? Maybe she was realizing the rest of the staff tricked her into thinking she would be doing a good deed this morning. Well, there was no reward waiting for her in Spinner's End. "Excuse me."
"Oh pardon me, Severus," she replied as she backed up against his parents' door.
He closed his door and descended the stairs. She had left the door to the parlor open and had also lit this room. He gave a particular shelf a furtive glance to make sure the Dark Arts books appeared under illusionary titles regarding housekeeping. There were no truly dangerous ones. His mother had told him about books that were protected with vortexes that sucked in the unwary browser, or that had demons spring forth. None of their books did anything as spectacular as that.
It would take time to find anything his mother could have hidden in these, he thought, while looking at the dust on the front of each shelf to see if she had moved any of them recently. After circling the room, he supposed she no longer read. Like him, she had read all these books.
Prof. Sprout was watching him look at the shelves.
He was stuck by the thought that she might find housekeeping books interesting. Hufflepuffs did not necessarily love cooking and cleaning, but she might want to check them since obviously no one in the house ever applied the knowledge that should be in them.
For now, she seemed focused on him, so he gambled and went through to the kitchen. His mother appeared undisturbed. He took a temperature reading of her and the room again. The room was the same, so using the time elapsed, Severus calculated that she had been dead perhaps six hours now.
If Lily's mail had arrived one day earlier, he could have kept this from happening. It wasn't the fault of either one of them, or even her parents. Her owl could only go so fast, if it should even be out in this weather.
Without the Evans, his father's demise would be a mystery to him.
Obviously the Ministry does not contact the relatives of Death Eater victims. Too busy with important things like casting Unforgivables, rather than assisting people.
If young Barty Crouch Jr. did not hate his father so much, he would currently be in terrible danger.
If it wasn't for He Who Must Not Be Named, they'd probably be in deep shit. With that nutter, at least murder and disappearances could happen every day, and the 'good guys' could shrug it off as beyond their control.
Prof. Sprout had followed him.
"What are we going to do with her, professor?" he asked
"Oh, isn't there other family?"
"No," he replied shortly. Severus was sure she had already asked that when they first entered the house.
"Friends?"
"My mother's health was not good. She has not left the house in years. She talks to no one other than my father and I."
"I see," Pomona said, beginning to actually see. Without his father … rather odd, a muggle taking care of a witch, but not impossible.
"Should we contact someone? We can't leave her here."
"You're right, Severus." Other students had family to take care of everything that needed to be done.
"I don't think the muggles expect her here. Is there some Ministry organization?"
"For what?"
"Death certificate? Autopsy? Don't they need to look at her at least? Or do I write a letter?"
"The notice in the newspaper is enough."
He raised an eyebrow. If What's His Name wanted to do things smart, he'd stop having his idiot cronies stop putting Dark Marks above his victims' homes. Fill the paper with 'died at home's, and no one would bat an eyelash.
Muggles did things totally different. Severus had seen enough dead bodies collected out of Spinner's End to know that. They cared how people died, and asked a lot of questions. That's why anyone hiding a crime usually dumped it somewhere else. Their river was not swift enough to move a body most of the time. It sort of lazily floated along. Only dunderheads from out of town did that sort of thing.
To clarify what he thought she was getting at, Severus asked, "So the body is my responsibility? I could simply leave it here, professor?"
"You shouldn't do that."
"What do you suggest I do with it?"
"Perhaps inter your mother with your father?"
"Has he already been … interred?" he asked. As a muggle, hopefully he wasn't left lying about like wizards did with their dead.
"Don't you know, Severus?"
"How would I?"
"Perhaps we can check the family plot?"
"What is that?" he asked. Plot? Plan? He doubted his parents planned for something like this. Everyone realized they would die one day, however his parents never acted like they cared in front of him.
"Is there a town cemetery?"
"That's on the other side, away from the river."
Lily was in Charms with Mary, waiting for class to begin. They were not in the back, but in Mary's usual place where she used to sit with Helen. Lily was worried about Severus, and Mary's questions since the beginning of lunch were not helping her nerves.
Prof. Flitwick entered, signaling for them to quiet down. As he closed the door behind himself, a hand grabbed it and pulled it back open.
Severus and Phi slipped past and headed for his usual seat high in the back.
Filius did not take points from Snape since his slight tardiness was forgotten. He had not expected him in class for a while.
A lot of students were looking open-mouthed at Snape. Even Slytherins forgot themselves.
Lily was sorely tempted to backhand Mary when she got prodded, "What's he doing here?"
"How the hell should I know?"
Mary gathered her things, "I should go sit with him."
Lily thrust her foot out intentionally. Mary MacDonald went down in a noisy heap.
"Settle down class. Miss MacDonald, please resume your seat."
Fuming because Severus was behind her so she couldn't see him without making an ass out of herself, Lily ground her teeth together so forcefully that it was hard to hear what Prof. Flitwick said regarding today's lesson. Figures, it was something new.
Mary glared at Lily, rather than paying attention. She put her foot out on purpose. Severus needed her, and now he was stuck back there alone.
Other than Severus, no one concentrated on casting.
Some tried to sneak glances his way, others openly stared, and the rest spent the lesson hissing whispered questions and crazier answers.
Among the open stares was Avery. He was scared shitless. Someone who could shrug off the death of his own mother? … and that was following up on torturing Pettigrew to death for close to a week, probably right here in the school under Dumbledore's crooked nose, eliminating the other Marauders, attacking a poltergeist, whatever that was that looked like a raven, and he and Mulciber could be next on his list for whatever Dark Arts he felt like testing out on them. Mulciber was getting good with Imperius, but Avery did not think it a good idea to try on Snape. If it failed, Snape would literally destroy him. Who would help them? Slughorn? His father had been one of his favorites, but not him. Mulciber was barely tolerated for his quidditch playing, his only real purpose here was to spend his free time recruiting for the Dark Lord, and he wasn't great at it. That's why he had to develop his Imperius to at least give the impression that some were recruited and ready to serve. Once they took the Mark, there was no turning away from the Dark Lord.
Annoyed that his class was not paying attention, Prof. Flitwick warned, "If I do not see progress, I will start taking points and handing out detentions."
That temporarily got students trying to figure out what was going on with Charms, instead of Snape.
He climbed towards the back, casting glowers at anyone who looked back here, before reaching the subject of so much speculation. "Very good, Mr. Snape. Excellent definition and wand movement. Two points to Slytherin."
Flitwick turned to face the class and gave a number of students dark glares to get them to return to their work. Lowering his voice, he said, "I am deeply sorry to hear of your loss. If you need time away from class, please feel free to take it."
"Sulking in my dormitory is not going to help matters."
"I meant away from the school."
"If I did not return with Prof. Sprout, I had no other way of getting back, professor. I am grateful she took me home, and we were able to take care of my mother's body."
Filius's face tightened in concerned concentration. Minerva had told them later in the morning that Snape's father had also passed this week. He should not be at school at all, but Pomona did bring him back. She must have some reason. If there was anyone that was compassionate among the staff, it was Pomona. "Very well then. Please carry on."
Descending the stairs, he said, "Since I just gave points to Slytherin, Mr. Avery, how about you settle for a detention? And five points from Gryffindor, Miss MacDonald. Now all of you, to work."
Since he was ahead of the rest of the class, Severus took some time to write down some notes. He did not know what he wanted to do, but he did not want to forget any important details.
He knew exactly how incompetent dunderheads got their jobs in the Ministry – Slughorn. Slughorn and his favorites. Severus would pick at them till they scabbed over repeatedly and were scarred for life for letting his mother die.
Horace Slughorn was besieged by harpies.
Minerva's knickers were in a twist over him having a bit of a lie-in this morning. He'd like to see her watch all these students in the evening and then be able to rise early in the morning.
Albus would have to do something about this.
Anyways, it did not matter what time he got up this morning since the hens decided to handle it among themselves, and Pomona took it upon herself, with Minerva's blessing, to whisk away Snape.
Good riddance to the carbuncle was all he had to say. There weren't any Princes left for him to be bothered. He doubted Snape was related to anyone magical still left alive. Horace only attended important funerals.
He had barely set foot in the staff room to see if there was a crumb left laying about, when Pomona set upon him.
Although surprised that she was already back from the bunghole of England, there was no reason why she should take that sort of tone with him. He was senior to her, and really her Hufflepuff sensibilities had no place in whatever she was babbling on about. Snape was not a Hufflepuff. It was her own damned fault for sticking her mud-smirched nose where it didn't belong.
Albus better get back soon. The womenfolk were getting delusions of grandeur, and thinking they ran the place. Merlin's balls!
After detention, he might meet Hagrid so they could nip off to the Hog's Head. In fact, maybe detention could be cut a little short tonight. Oak-aged mead might not be enough, he felt like a firewhiskey night was coming on.
Severus Snape was besieged by harpies.
Lily and MacDonald both set upon him at the end of Charms, and when he told them he did not want to talk about anything on their way to Defense, they didn't shut up, but talked to each other about him. What the fuck was wrong with them?
He went into the gents' for a moment's peace, and came out to find them waiting for him.
He scanned the room when they got to Defense, and wedged an unoccupied desk between Wilkes and Rosier, where there had been no room for another desk, and took a seat.
He allowed Phi to do his glaring for him while he allowed his hair to fall forward and cover his face for the entire class period.
At least the Defense teacher did not approach him with any platitudes. He hardly remembered their names, even after having them in class for six months. Younger Slytherins had changed their robes for a class to have lions on them, and this pillock took points from Gryffindor when they did amusing things for their Hufflepuff classmates' amusement.
When class was dismissed, MacDonald launched herself at him, asking "Are you upset, Severus?"
Rosier and Wilkes both snapped at her, while most of the class openly stared at the crazy Gryffindor.
Severus did not respond, and Lily scrambled to get near him as he exited the classroom. She shouldered her way down the stairs and grabbed his left hand, even though Phi was riding on his left shoulder.
Severus tightened his hand and murmured, "Lily."
Rita Skeeter had an excellent nose for a story. Sometimes it merely took a little time to come together.
An ugly boy was not a story. A poor, ugly, hard-working, heroic boy who lost his mother would appeal to Witch Weekly readers. It needed length and more pictures. The witches liked pictures. Wasn't it Rita herself that coined the phrase 'a picture is worth a thousand words'?
She had a lovely one of him grouting tile in a school lavatory. She wondered if he had any more clothing that resembled paint-spattered rags.
But first, she needed to pen her condolences to the poor boy.
Lily and Mary were confused when they reached the library. Severus was not at their usual hidden away table for four, but with Wilkes, Rosier, Black, Crouch and another boy at the Wilkes/Rosier table for six.
The youngest boy, that Lily could not for the life of her remember his name, was telling some story about a giant. The other Slytherins appeared to barely listen to him as he made wild hand gestures to illustrate the action, and boldly smiled when he inserted himself into the tale as the savior of the victimized village.
Waiting politely till the young man completed his description of the gratitude bestowed upon him, Lily then placed her hands on Severus's shoulders. "Hey, Sev. Are you getting caught up with the fellows?"
He leaned back slightly and turned his head to look up at her, "Yes, Lily. I have a little more to do. Did you need me?"
"Um, it can wait. I'll be over at our regular table, if you need me. All right?"
"All right."
Lily sighed as she trudged over to where Mary had already flounced and dropped into her usual chair in a huff. Mary was angry at Severus, Malcolm and Evan for earlier, rather than realizing it was her that started it with such a stupid question. She was also not happy with Lily either.
Success! Unquestionably perfect success! Potions using freshly harvested augurey eyes from live augureys existed, but were hardly worth brewing due to the cost of the properly harvested eyes and rareness of the bird.
However, the substitution of this odd blend of morning glory flowers and pine cone was genius. Sheer genius. Simple ingredients that were easy to obtain, prepare and brew.
This young man could be the next Golpalott, and Joe Rue, an obscure American brewer who understood arithmancy, was the one to first believe in him and give his theories a chance. Thank you, Atlas Abstractus!
Hastily he penned a letter to Abstractus, and then got to work on their submission for The Practical Potioneer.
Severus was thankful that Lily allowed him to sit in silence with their arms around each other this evening, rather than her claiming a good shag was all he needed.
He was not sure if he'd look at anything tonight, he might be simply too wakeful thinking so he already told her that he would not meet her tomorrow morning. He had a lot on his mind and felt time was needed to have the pieces start to fit together.
Severus had no idea of how many things were influencing his life, or he'd boil it down to some simple arithmancy.
Mr. Filch was rather quiet tonight, but gave him his assignment off the Front Hall. Severus had barely started when he heard voices.
Slughorn was leaving with Hagrid.
No detentions tonight?
No, Avery had one. Severus smirked at that thought, teachers assigning detention and then Slughorn not making anyone serve it?
However, this might give Severus the opportunity to try something while Slughorn was out of the building. He set a detection charm on the front door for Slughorn, finished his work, reported its completion to Mr. Filch and then headed down into the dungeons and turned towards Slughorn's office, rather than his common room.
After a couple ward detections, Severus nodded. Alarmed for tampering, but Severus could cast one spell really well, and it could pass into the office since Slughorn did not ward the door against spell penetration.
Concentrating on his targeted space, currently unseen behind the door, Severus cast finite incantatem.
Oh darn, it sounded like some of Prof. Slughorn's precious memorabilia and valuables might have been damaged. What a shame. Perhaps broken glass got in his crystallized pineapple.
Lily crumpled up the parchment that she had attempted to use to answer her mother's letter, and snarled, "Will you shut up already, Mary? Not everything is about you."
"I didn't say this was about me, but ..."
"I do not care what half-baked theories you have about Severus and his parents. You don't understand anything."
"I understand Severus better than you ever will, Lily Evans."
Lily threw her hands in the air, expressing her disgust at the girl who supposed Sev's mother died while pining for his father.
She had a letter to write, homework to finish, and perhaps at some point would fall asleep with a headache after thinking about Severus. Things were horribly wrong. They could get incredibly worse. That's the only reason Lily had reined in her natural impulses with Severus. He was terribly hurt, but things with Severus took time. She couldn't shake the tears out of him. And Hogwarts … the feeling of betrayal stabbed her through the heart. This went deeper than the utter disappointment that the staff's blind eye to the Marauders had inspired. She suspected they could have known about his father's death, which should have gotten Sev home to take care of his mother, but a morning off of class for the death of both parents? Bastards, she thought as she clenched her fists.
Severus lay in bed and stared at his mother's wand in his left hand. Maybe there were some wand books in the library could explain what he could do with it. This wand liked him, and it would be handy to have a spare wand in case Sirius Black showed up one day to continue bashing his head into a wall. Or anyone else.
Once the practicality of having a second wand finished with his head, impractical depression seeped in.
Although a witch should outlive a muggle, logically he knew that his mother should die prior to his father due to her lack of actual living.
He imagined he would have returned home one day, his father would tell him mother was dead, and that would have been it.
To have the opposite situation occur was improbable. Severus should have been prepared for this in some way.
He wasn't.
It was his fault for relying on others … even if it was to laugh in his face when his father died, and he'd have to leave school to tend to his mother. That's what should have happened. However, Severus failed his mother and she was dead too. Thanks to his lack of foresight.
When there was a knock on the door, Albus called, "Come in."
"Ah, you're in today. You snuck out while my back was turned yesterday," chastised Tom the innkeeper, as he carried a heavily laden breakfast tray into the room.
"Breakfast meeting, Tom. Totally slipped my mind to let you know."
"No worries, Professor. Are you still departing today?"
"Alas, I must return to Hogwarts. It seems I stay here longer each time."
"Things would be so much worse if you weren't, professor. They're damned lucky at the Ministry that you're helpin'."
Looking over the tray, Albus exclaimed, "Raspberry jam. You remembered, Tom."
"Course I did."
"Thank you, my friend. You make my stays in London delightful."
"That's all right, professor. Just remember to let all your friends know how much you enjoy the Leaky Cauldron."
Laughing, Albus agreed, "I certainly will."
With a satisfied sigh, he sat down. Tom made a wonderful breakfast. Albus prepared his tea, arranged his toast, sliced off a bite of a thick-skinned, juicy sausage and chewed it blissfully with his eyes closed before he unfolded the newspaper.
When it started to look like the most exciting thing was a sale at Gladrags, an unexpected obituary caught his eye.
He immediately stood to leave for the Ministry.
Albus did not know what this meant, but Bellatrix Lestrange was dead a week after the other Lestranges. Surely, Barty would have some insight into it.
Phi was unhappy, or at least that's what Severus was interpreting from her when owls dared to come near him. Four. Four letters in one day for him. Where were owls when he needed them, he considered darkly.
The optimistic spark that still existed in him, no matter how much Severus tried to extinguish it, hinted that perhaps these could be from former acquaintances of his mother's.
His mood lightened with the first letter bearing condolences from Xeno Lovegood. Severus could not be mad at him for writing. That was the only person that would believe him when he tried to tell his tale of the Ministry's incompetence. Severus still needed time to calm down in order to be able to discuss it rationally. Perhaps writing it down logically would help organize his thoughts and find the holes in his knowledge of what happened.
Frank Longbottom also wrote. He certainly was persistent. The joke was on him though since he obviously missed that dark wizards and those that loved the Dark Arts loved no one, not ever their own mothers. How could that be left out of auror training? Let's say that Severus went on to become Severus the Slimy, since 'the foul' and 'the oddball' had already been taken, and aurors put his mother under the cruciatus curse. Wouldn't he only laugh in their faces? Not that would have an impact since aurors would probably enjoy torturing helpless, old women. Letting them slowly starve, or die of cold or thirst were hardly kinder options.
Mr. Filch wrote him likewise. Or at least that's who claimed to sign this short and simple, nice note. Hmm. It was … unexpected. Not that he didn't consider Mr. Filch literate, but that he'd take the time to observe social niceties and write a student.
He had saved the feminine looking letter for last, as the best possibility for one of his mother's old friends. It was very disappointing. It was that Rita Skeeter woman. What did she want with him?
Severus did not feel he currently had an Order of Merlin, First Class in him right now. Quite the opposite, unless she was preparing to write her new biography after he destroyed the Ministry – Severus Snape, Psychopath or Saint? No, that wasn't any good. Wizards would not understand that psychopath began with a 's' sound. Screwball? He was distracted from his search for the perfect S word by the sight of Mulciber trying to clean out his ear with the handle of a spoon. Obviously, Stylish and Slytherin were antonyms. Since he was already reserving the word Slimy for his future Dark Wizard title, Severus thought of Scummy, Sordid, Squalid, Scurvied, Sleazy, Soiled, Slovenly, Sloppy, Stained, Sullied, Swinish, Shabby, Shamed, Sickening, Stinking and Slughorn to describe the House of Slytherin that contained the likes of Mulciber.
"Oh dear, oh dear," Horace muttered loudly to gain the attention of the staff present as he began perusing his pile of correspondence. He was holding in front of him a missive on very fine milled parchment, indicating it was a communication from someone of importance. He paused for effect, then heavily sighed, "It's so sad when someone dies so young. Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange, and now her sister's nuptials, Narcissa Black that is, to that fine Lucius Malfoy will have to be postponed. Such a shame to put love on hold like that, when young Narcissa most needs a strong shoulder to cry on. I only hope that the new date they choose is convenient ..."
His musing was ruined as he stood, screaming in pain.
Horace cast a numbing charm on himself.
"Oh, silly me," Pomona Sprout uttered apologetically. "I'm so sorry I spilled the teapot on you, Horace. I was so taken with your sad news that it slipped right out of my fingers."
"You'll want to put some butter on that," Minerva suggested helpfully.
"Oh no," Filius disagreed. "Cold. You should go outside, drop your trousers and lie face down in the snow, Horace."
"Don't go anywhere yet," Atlas said, already having a scrap of parchment and stub of a pencil flying over it as he arithmatically searched for a means to ease his colleague's pain. "Ah, I found it. You'll want to use dirigible plum paste on that, Horace. The orange staining will be a harmless side effect, but I think it should be well within the acceptable parameters."
"The hell with the lot of you. I'm going to the Infirmary. Poppy can treat my burn."
A number of them chorused the correction, "Scald."
"Whatever," he replied.
Minerva watched him exit with thinned lips, then muttered, "Bellatrix Lestrange? Good riddance to rubbish. If she wasn't a Death Eater, I'll eat cat food while in human form."
Leaning over, Pomona asked with a smirk, "Atlas, dirigible plum?"
"Oh yes. If you don't believe me, you can check my work," he replied, holding forth his calculations.
Albus suspected Barty's job was getting the better of him. Bellatrix Lestrange's death … well, Barty giggled. There was an unwholesome gleam in his eye as he licked his lips nervously and explained, "Don't you see, Dumbledore? They're turning on each other. It's desperation. All I did was put a little pressure on them when the Black family tried to take possession of the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. Get Bellatrix in here to answer questions. Her sister was questioned and released. However, the muggles said the blonde hurt no one. It's the dark-haired woman we wanted. Especially if she killed the only two heirs between her and the Lestrange vault."
"How can you question her now?"
"We can't. And now the Blacks get nothing. They're probably the ones that did her in. That whole family is a pack of murdering animals, but I'm not telling you anything, am I? After that boy of theirs used a werewolf on other students. Shocking … and one day, his father in law will not be at the top of the French ministry. He's getting up in years, and that veela wife of his is not exactly making him feel young, if you know what I mean, eh?"
Barty's ability to concentrate on so much at once, and see plots withing plots was frankly terrifying to Albus. What were the talking about again? Oh … "So Bellatrix was wanted for questioning in the deaths of the Lestrange brothers based on eyewitness accounts from muggles. Meanwhile, she eluded you, but you caught up to her family trying to make a um … dubious or premature transfer of funds?"
"Dubious? I'll say. I was ready to accuse her of never consummating the marriage, if I had to. Come now. Married five years and nothing? The Lestranges were anxious for heirs, and she scared off every woman that tried to get near the brother-in-law so there would be no legitimate heirs before she finally spit one out. She wasn't inheriting anything without a potion in her cauldron."
"That was a serious miscalculation."
"I couldn't agree more, Dumbledore."
"So the goblins keep it?"
"Oh no. They're bound to dig back as far as they need to … at some time a female Lestrange married someone. Probably a Black anyway. If not, one of the others that don't need it will inherit. You know how tangled up it is. Could even be me, for all I know."
"That's a profession in itself there."
"The amount of paper wasted on books of bloodlines. We're all related somehow."
"Did you read in The Quibbler, oh, maybe last year, that muggleborns are descendants of squibs? The squibs that integrate into muggle society?"
"For a supposedly intelligent man, Albus, you believe the queerest things."
Lily, Severus, and the rest of the first period Potions class waited in the hallway outside the classroom. The ones who attended breakfast had seen Slughorn at the Head Table.
A couple knocked on his office, and Wilkes had tried the door to his quarters. Slughorn was standing them up.
Now, they were simply waiting for consensus to leave. NEWTs Potions was a bright group, they all had work they could be doing for their other classes, rather than watching the breath steam out of each other's noses in this frigid, stone hallway without the benefit of cauldron flames to warm their hands.
Lily stood immediately in front of Sev, and had her hands in his school robes, pulling them forward to keep her warmer. She was not as acclimated as the Slytherins to the dungeon's chill.
There were occasion dissatisfied mutters and the snapping open of pocket watches with disapproving shakes of heads before they were clicked shut.
From her perch on Sev's shouder, Lily could almost swear Phi croaked, "Oh no."
Prof. Slughorn strolled towards them from the stairs. "What are you lot waiting for?"
"You, sir," Wilkes replied. Slughorn lived on his past glories so much, he had lost his golden touch. For someone that was supposedly good at ferreting out hidden talents and gems of students, the best he could do out of the whole school was Dirk Cresswell?
Looking at his watch, Slughorn declared, "Class is canceled."
The Ravenclaws weren't the only one crossing their arms or putting their hands on their hips indignantly, but Prof. Flitwick was going to get an earful about it, whereas Professors McGonagall and Sprout would be spared.
They did not disperse immediately so were treated to Prof. Slughorn screaming in his office, before they got out of earshot. Most slowed down, and Slughorn came running down the hall at them. It was not a pretty sight. He huffed through his mustache for a moment before wheezing out, "Which of you did it?"
Rosier replied, "I knocked on your door. It was closed and the light was off."
"I was with him."
"Me too," added a Ravenclaw prefect.
"Someone broke into my office."
"No one came down the hall in either direction while we were here, sir," Wilkes stated.
Thinking on it for a moment, the wards were untouched. Slughorn turned and headed back towards his office, suspecting Peeves. If nothing was missing, definitely Peeves. The Baron would rat him out.
"What do you think, Sev?"
"Who cares?" Severus replied.
Actually, Lily did not. Let someone steal all Slughorn's candy, and the whole school knew he kept liquor in his office. "So it's Runes next?"
"Yes," he replied as they broke away from the others who were mostly heading for the library.
"Um … yesterday … can I ask?"
"I'm not ready yet, Lily. Maybe after I write things down."
"Write?"
"I'm unclear on facts. I'd rather be upset and angry about the preventable elements."
"Preventable, Sev?"
"My mother was not dead long. I calculated she died in the early morning, just in time to make the paper or a couple hours before."
Lily panicked and explained, "I didn't tell my parents that she was uh ..."
"No, not them, Lily. My mother wouldn't have answered the door, even if they went round."
"Who then?"
"I could open the door, if someone bothered to tell me anything. I'm not exactly sure who should have. If Death Eaters were involved, what about the Ministry? Don't they bother telling families of victims? And isn't there measures in place at the school for students' families? They have magic quills doing other things. Death of students' parents might be important, rather than shove them on a train in June to abandon them at King's Cross? I have the feeling if it were another student, things might have been handled differently."
That was a possibility, but fraught with trouble. Lily changed the subject slightly with, "You were back so fast."
"If I didn't come back with Prof. Sprout, where was I to go?"
"Um … ," she took a deep breath to think. Her house? If he banged on the door, Lily guessed her mum would let him in, but that would be rather unusual. After a couple days or a week there or anywhere else, Severus would still need some way to get back here, other than illegally apparating. She muttered, "You shouldn't have to go to class for a bit."
"What else do I have to do? Lie around crying? That'll go over real well in my dormitory."
"Hex 'em with that river of snot thing."
"That's not mine. Sorry, Lily."
"And here I was trying to trick you into owning up to that one."
Severus shrugged.
"Weren't there things to arrange?"
"I think there should have been, but Prof. Sprout … I don't know. She didn't need to bring me home so I … I just don't know. I'm hoping that we'll take our apparition test before Easter break, then I can go home and pack up the books after I look through them. I have some paperwork from my parents' bedroom, but we don't have objects d'art or heirlooms. It'll give me something to do while you are doing wedding stuff with Petunia."
Lily did not want to come out and clarify what she meant by arrangements, but weren't there two bodies that needed funerals, caskets and a cemetery? Or did he mean that Prof. Sprout did something to get rid of them? With Severus knowing next to nothing about weddings, other than the Ministry charges five galleons for a license, his knowledge of funerals could also be lacking.
Albus returned to Hogwarts with the feeling that they were winning the war against Tom Riddle, but dissatisfied that there was not some decisive victory. It could be his inner Gryffindor speaking, but until Tom was captured or killed, he or his unknown agents could still perform some desperate act. There could still be students within the school that were as solidly his as Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew. Albus had still held out hope for James Potter, but the attack on that pub had pretty much closed the door on Potter.
His floo flared. Horace asked, "Albus?"
"Yes?"
"Tread carefully, Albus. They are all against us."
"Who?"
"The staff. They've gone insane."
Albus looked around his office at the portraits. If there was some sort of staff mutiny in progress, they would have given him some warning. Phineas Nigellus Black raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. "Really, Horace?"
"I think we can regain the men. They're scared of the women, you know."
Dilys Derwent's portrait snickered. Men!
"What brought this on?"
"Minerva's got ideas, Albus."
"Well, I'll see what I can do, old friend. Don't worry about me," Albus replied, ending the connection with a wave of his hand. Sighing, he knew exactly what happened. Horace tried to suggest what he should not do, or what Minerva should be doing and well … Albus had been in the middle of that enough times.
His shoulders sagged. He meant to ask Horace about Severus Snape. Dinner was only a few short hours away. Albus did not want to floo him back. He'd never get Horace to stop talking, and he had so much to catch up on here.
Minerva entered his office after he had sorted his mail into piles, and asked, "Weren't you supposed to return by lunch?"
"I went back to the Ministry and got involved with discussions regarding Bellatrix Lestrange."
Albus did not like the way Minerva was narrowing her eyes at him. She quietly, but dangerously, asked, "Will her untimely, and most unfortunate, demise interfere with your social calendar also?"
"I doubt it, Minerva."
"I waited for your return to discuss a serious matter with you. Are you in favor of the male students possessing and openly displaying pornographic photographs?"
"You say openly displaying? In what way?"
"Any way. We have a serious problem with male students attacking female students in the school. Don't you agree?"
"Absolutely."
"I propose we go through each of the male dormitories, starting with Slytherin. I walked through Gryffindor's rooms yesterday. No one has anything obviously on display, but Slytherin is shocking."
Unable to help himself, Albus repeated, "Shocking?"
"As in appalling, Albus. And I request trunks be opened. Someone tipped me off that less tame items are secreted away."
"Less tame than appalling?"
"I only saw the shocking and appalling with my own eyes posted proudly on the walls."
"You saw … oh, well than I trust your judgment, Minerva."
"It'll curl your beard."
"Oh dear."
"I think Horace should call the house together for a meeting, without saying what's happening."
"Slytherin first?"
"It's definitely a problem in that house, and we don't want to give them warning to hide it. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I would not be so insistent."
"After dinner?"
Minerva nodded, adding, "But please don't let Horace know, or he'll tip off his favorites. By the way, any chance of expulsions, Albus?"
"Is it that bad?"
"I'm just trying to gauge your 'boys will be boys' attitude in advance. Some of the images I saw were violent, but these offenses aren't as bad as actually attacking our female students. And you already have a record of going light on that."
Albus frowned. It hadn't been a problem for long, and once they found out who it was, he talked to the boys. "Expulsion without a warning is rather sticky, especially if Horace was allowing it to flourish. Suspensions and detentions? Depending on the … severity of the imagery?"
"Detention? We still have those at Hogwarts? Horace dismisses the students after a few minutes."
"I see," Albus replied. No wonder why Horace tried to reach him first. "Oh by the way, Severus Sn-"
Minerva's nostrils flaring were his cue to allow her interruption. "Pomona assisted him. I would have taken him myself, but with you away …" She took a deep breath and continued, "You should make time to talk to her. Something needs to be done. Pomona was there, so I'd rather you talk to her."
"Horace couldn't - "
"Horace? Too busy sleeping off a hangover to do … squat. Probably would have directed Mr. Snape to the Hogsmeade train station, if he did anything at all."
"Minerva, that's a rather harsh thing to suggest."
"Suggest? Open your eyes, Albus. Horace can't stand him."
"No, the three of us have had tea up here twice this year."
"Really? I'd like to see that. Perhaps you could invite me to the next one, so I could see it with my own eyes?"
"Surely. Miss Evans was at the last one, it was the four of us actually."
"Miss Evans? Prof. Slughorn judges her association with Mr. Snape has ruined her future so she is no longer one of his favorites. I'm sure she'll be more than willing to tell me what really went on at that chummy tea of yours."
"Are you grinding an axe for Horace, Minerva?"
"Perhaps I tire of his favoritism while ignoring or avoiding other students. He's a head of house, Albus, and he ignores his responsibilities to many of them, while showering his favorites with false praise. Horace also teaches a class where accidents can occur. Do I need to remind you what students from 'better' families are allowed to get away with in a class he supervises?"
"It happened while Horace's attention was diverted."
"If a student was set on fire in my classroom while I was in it, do you think something else could divert my attention?"
Within his frame, Phineas winced. This could be the ignominious end of Albus Dumbledore.
"Of course not, Minerva. Not everyone is as competent as you."
"Albus, Hogwarts standards and the expectations are being lowered. Do you think we are truly doing a decent job educating and protecting all our students? I'm not even suggesting a good job, just that we attempt to attain decent."
"You see it otherwise?"
Slumping in disbelief, Minerva chided, "Albus, how can you even ask that? Are you absent from the school that much that you have no concept of what goes on here?"
"I supposed you are taking the first step towards opening my eyes tonight. I would like the female students to be able to move through our hallways unmolested."
"Just be sure to remember them when Horace spins some wild tale over his conquests of the fairer sex and tries to get you reminiscing about the good old days, when the two of you had any witch in Europe for the asking."
"Minerva! I never … I'm interested in a woman's mind."
She wagged her finger at him, "Not from what Horace has to say. Don't expect me to fall for beautiful eye comments or that these photographs are art."
Albus was speechless. What did Horace say? Any witch in Europe? Nothing could be further from the truth. Albus … well, he had loved and lost, and was not ready to love again after such pain. Maybe one day, but the chance of lightning striking him twice in one lifetime was unlikely.
Rita lay back in her bath, sucked some smoke from her pipe, savored it before exhaling, and simply felt that life was good. Really good.
Normally, she would not count herself among those old vulture witches, who eagerly read the obituaries each day to find a name they knew to laugh themselves silly with a 'better her than me' attitude while only having a herd of cats for company.
Bellatrix Black was dead. Dead. Not even thirty yet. And she didn't even leave a beautiful corpse behind. All manner of accusations had been carved into the flesh of the pieces that had been found so far. Couldn't have happened to a better person.
Rita blew some smoke rings, cubes, and pyramids reminiscing over how much she hated Bellatrix Black. Hogwarts' grudges could last a lifetime.
The Slytherins gathered in their common room for this house meeting. None of them expected anything beneficial to occur. Slughorn was probably going on a trip with Cresswell and a couple other of his gift-giving toadies, and was going to nominate some of them to proctor his classes. Hopefully, they'd take Dumbledore with them.
Their parents were absolutely right, he was the worst thing to ever happen to this school. Dumbledore was a complete boob. Probably got the drop on Grindelwald while he was in the loo.
Severus was seated with the younger boys, assisting with their homework. He needed the library for his so he hoped whatever Slughorn had to say was short, and he didn't get sidetracked with one of his asinine stories about someone else's greatness.
Slughorn entered through their regular entrance, rather than his own, and Dumbledore and McGonagall were with him. She was carrying a clipboard with an inkwell and already had her quill poised.
Maybe Slughorn was going somewhere.
Their head told them to be quiet, even though they were not talking loudly.
Dumbledore made an announcement, "With the time this may take, you will all have homework that is due tomorrow waived till the following class."
If he expected cheers and applause, they did not occur. They weren't mindless Gryffindors failing to see that they could get more homework assigned tomorrow, and have twice as much due. Since when did Albus Dumbledore do them any favors?
McGonagall called the names of the seventh year girls, and they all went with Dumbledore into the hall that led to the girls' rooms, while McGonagall remained behind. When someone did not remain quiet, she took points.
Dumbledore returned alone, and the sixth year girls were called and so on.
Slughorn did not look nervous in the slightest. In fact, he looked rather smug. Dumbledore already told him they were trying to uncover who was casting those jinxes on the girls, now that the Marauders were gone. Minerva was not going to find that lad in Slytherin. He'd definitely be one of her Gryffindors.
The headmaster took longer with the seventh year boys, but he eventually returned.
"Wilkes, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Snape."
Since the other four were closer to the boys' corridor, Slughorn took advantage of him being in the far corner to yell, "Stop lagging, Snape."
Dumbledore turned to look at him.
Severus stared back. What now? Did he really think he chose that seat tonight of all nights to waste his precious bloody time? If he thought he should break into an undignified run across the Slytherin common room, Severus could only hope he decided to hold his breath, turned blue, and passed out. Perhaps he had candy in his mouth, and he'd choke on it.
The other sixth years were waiting with Dumbledore. When he joined them, Albus said, "Severus, you are here."
Severus looked at the others. Where was he supposed to be, or was he making some joke about him sitting far away? No one was laughing.
"I heard about your father while I was at the Ministry."
There was a sudden stabbing pain in his chest, and Severus momentarily stopped walking with them down the spiraling corridor deeper beneath the castle.
He resumed after his right knee tried to resist the command to march on. With ice flowing through his veins, Severus conversationally inquired, "Oh, when was that?"
"Oh, three or four days ago. I'm surprised you are already back at school."
He didn't know? Who … Severus asked, "Didn't you contact Professor …?" He let his question hang. Who? Who did nothing while his mother died?
"Hm, who? Prof. Sprout?"
"No, I meant when you first heard." Severus knew Dumbledore did not floo Sprout. She wouldn't let days pass and do nothing.
"Oh, I was at the Ministry, my boy. I'm sorry I couldn't express my condolences sooner, but I was needed there."
They entered their dormitory with Severus trying to bore a hole through the back of Dumbledore's head with his stare. He knew days ago, in a place full of floo grates, and probably a huge flocks of owls, and did nothing?
"Why don't all of you take a seat upon your trunks?"
Severus sat like the others, thinking. Whoever at the Ministry tells Dumbledore … and then Dumbledore does nothing? His father's a muggle. The muggle police weren't going to find him at Hogwarts to notify him, and his mother never opened the door for anyone to expect her to know anything. Even if she did know, what would she have done? Maybe once it got dark, and light, and dark again, she might have registered that father was not returning. She was sensible enough to put fuel in the stove, till it was completely gone.
Dumbledore flicked his wand and their bed curtains opened. Phi associated that with getting fed, and went to her bowls.
"Mr. Mulciber, could you please open your trunk?"
Oh, now Severus knew why they were here. So if McGonagall was not coming down hard on Mulciber's collection of graphically violent porn, it may have been weeks
before Dumbledore thought to say something to him, if at all.
After a long evening of going through all four dormitories, Albus was knackered. They'd have a staff meeting tomorrow. Shocking and appalling were only two words that Minerva could use to describe what was found. Slytherin, especially Mr. Mulciber's collection, was the worst and most tasteless. Lads from the other three houses were not innocent either. Neither were a handful of young ladies.
His fellow headmasters started waxing poetic about the antics that students used to get up to, until Albus showed them the finest examples of what he confiscated from Slytherin.
Phineas Nigellus commented, "Back in my day, a wizard would have to go to Singapore to see talent of that caliber."
During and after detention, Severus's mind was full of ideas. Each wilder and more painful. The sorts of things he used to reserve for daydreaming about Sirius Black and James Potter.
Once he lay down, his mind circled back to Lily. She certainly would not be an accomplice. Lily thought the Ministry did a good job. She liked Dumbledore. But his mother? No, she'd like Dumbledore more than his mother. Certainly enough to rationalize insignificant details being forgotten when the Ministry and Dumbledore were doing important work. It's not like his mother was important. Severus certainly knew he was not important. Better not to mention it to Lily at all. She would only tell him how wrong he was. Wasn't it Lily who predicted something great would happen to him in February? Maybe from her point of view the deaths of both his parents was terrific.
Minerva spent most of the staff meeting looking at Albus with that 'told you so' look in her eyes, every time Horace objected because lads always had a couple of racy photos, and it never harmed anyone before.
As the meeting was breaking up, Pomona caught Albus's eye, but Horace threw his arm around his shoulders and tried to steer him out of the room, "Ah, Albus. Giving in to them. What's happened to your backbone? I remember when … what do you need, Pomona? Can't you see Albus and I have things to discuss?"
"I also have things to discuss with him, Horace," she said through gritted teeth.
"We know its cold, and your greenhouses blah, blah, blah. Can't Hagrid help you out?"
"He does, and that's not what I need to speak to the headmaster regarding. Actually, you may want to join us."
Horace removed his arm from Dumbledore, held up his hands and said, "Hey, I don't butt in when you two are talking about knitting patterns, so you need to give me a chance to catch up with Albus too. He'd been gone for days, and this is the first real chance I've gotten ..."
"Oh, I see. So that's the way it's going to be. Is it?" she asked, looking between the two of them.
Horace sighed, "Hufflepuffs."
"Hufflepuffs? I hope this comes back to bite you in the arse so hard, your legs drop off, Horace." Literally shaking with rage, she added, "And you too, Albus. Good day."
"Pomona!" Albus called after her. She was truly upset over something.
"Eh, let her go, Albus. It's nothing a cup of tea and a couple hugs won't solve."
Lily was perplexed. They were allowed to go to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day, but the cold showed little sign of letting up. Severus said he did not care whether they went or not, but if Lily wanted to go, he'd go with her.
The only thing making her somewhat happy was Severus was now totally ignoring Mary, and was no longer even answering her questions through Lily. Right now though, Severus should be depending on his friends, rather than excluding them.
They had not shagged since he went home. Lily kept her hands off his penis, but held his hand and put her arms around him. At times, when they were sitting quietly together in the evening, Severus would become overcome with emotion, but he was not talking about his feelings. Lily could guess how he felt, but wished he would say something.