Villain of the Piece
Part 2 Youthful Indiscretions
- Chapter 18 -
Chapter 18: Bedside Manners Tuesday 2nd May 1978 and reminiscing about ‘Chamber of Chaos’ was the Daily Prophet’s banner headline
above a photograph of Wizengamot members shouting at one another and shaking
fists. ‘CPBS out for Blood’ began the
paragraph below. The newspaper article
concerned a bitter row in the Council Chamber that erupted on the previous day
– the culmination of successive months of nervousness about policies spearheaded
by Bartemius Crouch. At supper in Flora McGonagall’s shabby refectory Severus
scanned the pages of the Prophet as he ate his soup. He kept abreast of political events and
enjoyed seeing how they were reported.
Possessing a measure of insider knowledge, it amused him to see how much
the events and arguments could be twisted prior to ending up on the front page. There had for a long time been a faction that called itself
The Council for Pure-Blood Supremacy – the CPBS – but the main puppet masters behind
the latest unrest were Lucius Malfoy and Augustus Rookwood who were putting
pressure on certain Wizengamot members to work towards liberalisation of the
law and bring about a return to what they called Old Wizarding Values. Against them were the champions of the rather
Stalinist Bartemius Crouch mindset. And
somewhere in the middle – or perhaps, more accurately, at the third corner of
the triangle – were those who were horrified at the prospect of the loss of any
liberal reforms (such as the call to decriminalise Muggle hunting) but were
alarmed by Crouch’s harsh and arbitrary counter measures. Behind it all lay the dark menace of Lord Voldemort. But Severus knew nothing of Voldemort. He was broadly in sympathy with what he
understood of the aims of the CPBS but that was as far as it went, and he was
in too much of a cosy rut to be bothered with politics. His show of harmony with the CPBS had more to
do with not upsetting Lucius. And even
Lucius, he suspected, would not disturb his comfortable life too much in the
cause of Pure Blood Supremacy. Severus smiled a small smile as he thought of his cosy
rut. No one could call Flora
McGonagall’s boarding house cosy. Nor
was the life of a Trainee Healer, not on St Mungo’s salary scales. No, currently Severus’s life was a hard one
but full of challenges, and it had certain points of interest. He had, for the present, all the novelty he
needed. He dipped a hunk of bread in his bowl and turned a page,
following the story through the paper, skipping the articles on fashion and
gossip. A page about recent weddings had
been torn out. Well, he couldn’t
complain – he hadn’t bought the newspaper; it had been discarded by another
border. “How’s the soup?” a gruff voice said as a wizard sat down
on the opposite bench. “Very, err, ‘red’ ” Severus replied, looking down into the
muddy but tasty red-brown dregs.
“Nourishing, though” he added, wiping out his bowl with the last of his
bread. “We’ll not be at risk of anaemia after this. I suspect she’s recycled all the black
pudding leftovers from breakfast time.” Jimmy Hardcastle gave a harsh laugh, bent to his own supper
and from then on they ate, as was usually the case, in a comfortable silence. Jimmy was one of the few wizards to whom Severus would make
a point of chatting. He worked as an
Obliviator at the Ministry and lodged in the room next to Severus. He was a tough, no frills type of man from
somewhere in the north, but the two wizards didn’t discuss their origins; their
conversations were forward-looking and limited to practicalities – the cost of
living, current events, and, occasionally, women. The He spent most of his free evenings alone in his room,
working on a file of medical notes, and going down to the refectory at The Malfoys’ mansion was in Severus’s opinion the place for
useful contacts. He had never let go of
his friendship with Lucius even though he didn’t understand why Lucius was at
pains to keep in touch. Visits to the
Wiltshire mansion were like holidays – Severus could enjoy good food and wine,
and comfortable surroundings. Gone were
the days when he had to stay in The Lodge.
Now he was given bedrooms such as the Chinese Room, hung with pale silk embroidered
with the flat, sharp, beautifully detailed representations of trees, birds, and
dragons. Apart from playing the county gentleman Lucius’s main
preoccupation seemed to be fathering a son and heir. So far he had been unsuccessful, Narcissa had
miscarried only weeks into her first pregnancy.
She looked pale and thin. Had
Severus wanted children he would not have chosen Narcissa to produce them. But Lucius has this pure-blood obsession,
Severus reminded himself; and Narcissa is a daughter of the noble house of
Black. Oh well, Lucius, as you make your
bed, so you must lie on it. Or, at
least, poor pale Narcissa must. It was thanks to Lucius that quite by chance Severus kept
in touch with his old school friends, Evan, Amycus and Xavier, as well as
Balantyne, and also Regulus and Johnny who were still at school. If he could not understand why he was invited
to the Malfoy soirees it was even less understandable in the case of Amycus and
Xavier. They had nothing by way of
intelligent conversation, and no status or personal wealth equivalent to the
Malfoys. Perhaps that was the attraction,
he wondered; perhaps Lucius liked to show off.
Apart from seeing them in Wiltshire, Severus didn’t keep in touch with
any of his old schoolfellows. Their
lives had diverged and he assumed that aside from political opinions, they
continued to have no interests in common. He was far more interested in other contacts at the
Malfoys’. Narcissa and Lucius were fond
of entertaining and their guest list often included businessmen, writers, retired
schoolteachers, Wizengamot members past and present, and even the Minister or
some of his Departmental Heads. It was
well worth roving around with a glass of wine and latching on to
conversations. One could meet some
extraordinary people. In this respect Severus’s humble origins were not the
stumbling block he once feared, perhaps because he was not a man to encourage personal
questions. Most people were content to
prate about themselves, but if anyone made a direct personal enquiry such as
“And where do you come from” he would reply “On the Yorkshire-Lancashire
borders – a little place – you won’t have heard of it” and if asked “What line
of business is your father in” he would reply “He dealt in silks – he’s dead
now” and that, coupled with the disquieting way he could say it, was usually
enough to cause the conversation to jump to another track. At most parties he carried his wine around
almost untasted much of the time; he liked to keep a clear head. Sunday night had been different though, he had to
admit. He had not been invited to this
party. A house-elf had sought him out with
a message from Lucius. Narcissa was again
in the early weeks of pregnancy and was suffering repeatedly from sickness and
headaches – could he help? And of course he could.
And if Lucius had sent his elf rather than a message by owl, matters
must be urgent… Severus had returned
with the elf to Wiltshire and found Narcissa sitting up in bed, a worried
Lucius pacing about as though she was already in labour, and out in the grounds
a gaggle of guests drinking wine and spit-roasting carcases of new-season lamb. Why have a party now, he had wondered? But it was not true to
say that this was a large gathering – this was not the normal kind of event to
which Lucius habitually played host.
This had the feeling of being a select brotherhood, in fact most of the
guests were male, and all were masked and dressed in black. Half an hour in the
kitchen was all that Severus needed to adapt the standard Slugg & Jiggers
Morning Sickness Potion into something more suitable for Narcissa. He also made subtle changes to their standard
headache cure, and Narcissa soon reported feeling better. “You’d better see a
medic if the headaches persist” he advised gravely. “Get your blood pressure monitored. Don’t run the risk of pre-eclampsia.” “We are indebted to
you, Severus” Lucius said with unusual sincerity. Then he took him aside and added “As you
know, we lost the first baby. We will be
forever in your debt if you can help us through this. St Mungo’s are not much help in this
respect.” “Who have you been
seeing?” Severus asked, and was given the name of a well-respected Healer who specialised
in contagious maladies. “That’s no good”
he pointed out. “Not his area of
expertise at all!” “We know that” Lucius
replied, sounding rather desperate.
“This is a problem that no Healer seems to be able to solve. The old wizard bloodlines are under threat. Each year our numbers grow fewer. All the pure-blood families are related; at
this rate we will soon be marrying our first cousins! Then we really will be in trouble.” “Then the answer is to
marry wider.” “Yes, I know that!”
Lucius hissed. “But the day I sully my
blood… Well – let’s just say that things
have not yet got to that sorry state!
Anyhow, enough of my problems. Why
not stay and join our little feast? We
are all friends together tonight. First
names only.” So Severus had stayed,
and had amused himself by working out the identities of the masked guests. He recognised several almost at once or
within a very short time – Rhodolphus, Ferdinand, Balantyne, Bellatrix. Many of the names echoed from his school
days. Others names did not. Nor did he learn them all. Sometimes he got the impression – it was not
so much an impression, more a guess – that there was a group within a group and
this select gathering. All in all, it had
been an odd kind of party… The soup consumed and the Daily Prophet read, Severus
decided to head for bed. “Would you like this?” he asked, indicating the newspaper. “No thanks. Read it,
tea-time” Jimmy replied. “Tea-time?” Severus scoffed. “You do have it cushy at the Ministry. We don’t get tea breaks long enough for
that.” “Nor do we, normally” Jimmy growled, “But I didn’t get any
lunch. Someone – can’t say who – made a
right dog’s breakfast o’ summat. Took us
ages to sort it. If she does that again,
she’s out.” Leaving the newspaper on the table, Severus bade Jimmy
goodnight and a short while later was tucked up in bed. For a while he thought of Lucius and Narcissa. Poor Narcissa had now also lost the second
baby and he wondered how she was faring.
Lucius had said her reaction was always to redecorate the guest
bedrooms; thinking up new designs was her therapy. Then he wondered who the Obliviator was who had caused
Jimmy Hardcastle to have such a bad day.
He didn’t envy Jimmy’s job. At
times it could be well paid, and at times it was exciting, but sometimes it was
a thankless mess. It didn’t carry the
status of Healership and the hours were dreadful. There was a three-shift rota and everyone was
supposed to take a turn at night work. Bonuses were paid if the situation turned sour,
requiring extra hours to be worked. St Mungo’s was also subject to emergencies but there were
more people to cover, and it had the comfort of being in a secure wizard
building. Severus was not so keen on sorting
out problems while exposed in the world of Muggles. But shift work was also true of some of the St Mungo’s
regular jobs. Honor worked unsocial
hours so apart from glimpsing her beavering away in the depths of the
Analytical Laboratory, Severus hardly ever saw her. Their meal breaks rarely coincided. It was a pity – he would have welcomed an
occasional chat with an old school friend.
During most of his breaks he was forced to socialise with Honor’s
colleague Sheilagh Butler, or with Osbert Slinkhard, a fellow trainee one year
in advance of himself and whom he cordially detested. Osbert reminded him of James Potter. He had – in Severus’s opinion – the same
ready smile, and the same inability to take anything seriously. He even had a shock of untidy black
hair. The big difference was the eyes
which were dark brown rather than hazel like James Potter’s. But they were merry and bright eyes, not black,
fathomless pools like Severus’s own.
Osbert was one of life’s happy-go-lucky, easy charmers who had little
passion for his work. “I bet he was a wow on the Quidditch pitch” Severus
grumbled, “If they play Quidditch at that old school of his. Oh, Cheryl; why did you have to leave? Why is Honor there but never there? Why is Sheilagh Butler too old and too much
of a bitch? Why am I too poor to have interesting
women in my life?” Yet despite the odd moment of panic he had to admit that
the past 8˝ months had been good. Severus
smiled, now, about all but one of those scary moments. There was just one that caused him pain, so
he did what he always did – pushed it to the back of his mind and slammed the
door on it. He lay in his bed,
remembering, drifting asleep, and looking forward to his first annual
assessment at St Mungo’s which would be taking place in June… His contract had
started in mid August when Elton Vance the Training Co-Ordinator had returned
from his summer holiday. That in
Severus’s opinion had been a poor reason to delay taking him on, but Vance was
like that – he was a renowned Healer with family connections among the hospital
management and he wielded a lot of power.
And his secretary – an adept Irish witch by the name of Miss E Butler –
skilfully shielded Vance from interference by mere staff and prospective staff. So from mid August,
and dressed in his lime green robe, Trainee Healer Snape worked dutifully from
ward to ward, witnessing the effects of poisonings and badly applied spells,
and learning how to remedy them. It was
one thing to read about poisons in a book and write school essays about
antidotes, quite another thing to have to cure real people. And patient reactions were not uniform, some
could put up a fight against relatively large doses of a poison, others would
buckle at a trace. But why? From quite early on Severus thought in terms
of compiling a project and even of publishing his own textbook. And with that in mind he began to keep
notes. Extensive notes. And to keep his eyes open for unusual
situations. Severus was also
entranced by the unusual hexes and curses people might suffer, and by potions
that could mimic them. How intriguing to
be able to feed someone a substance that would reproduce the Cruciatus Curse,
without having to contend with the risk of wand evidence. Inevitably Severus
could not go through life at St Mungo’s without coming across people he knew. One of his early encounters was with a girl
he had once asked out on a date – none other than the beautiful Gundrada Lufkin
who, as she proudly explained to him, was soon to become Gundrada Stump. She worked as an heraldic designer in an
obscure branch of the Ministry that controlled the use of heraldic devices, and
she had received a serious injury from handling a cursed caudle cup. When, as a fairly new trainee, he arrived to
witness her diagnosis there was initially some embarrassment which Severus put
down to her being confronted by a male Healer who was an old school
acquaintance, but he found he was wrong about that. He also noticed that he no longer much cared
for her. She was beautiful but that was
all; she had no special power of attraction over him. With the diagnosis
done the Healer-in-Charge left Severus to complete his notes. Gundrada eyed him carefully. Clearly she had something to say. “Severus” she began,
“I’d just like to say how sorry I am for that silly Love Potion trick we played
at school.” “Oh that” he replied
silkily. “Think nothing of it. Witches ply me with Love Potions all the
time. I have to beat them off. It’s such a bore.” “It’s good of you to
take it so well” she said, giving him a rueful grin, “But never mind. I’m going to make it up to you. I’ve been designing some presents for my
friends in my spare time at work and there’s no need for you to miss out. Now, what would you like? Silver napkin rings? Or a set of goblets?” Momentarily Severus
was dumbstruck – what was she talking about? “You look lost for
words” she told him. “Shall I choose for
you?” “Err–” His forehead creased into a frown and then a horrible
suspicion dawned in his mind. “There is
really no need–” he began. But Gundrada was
adamant. She promised that when she got
back to work she would look up his family tree, check the Snape coat-of-arms
and come up with something special.
Severus could not dissuade her.
He went away in a barely concealed rage, muttering darkly about
Forgetfulness Potions. After that things ran
smoothly again. But only for a while. Although normally
conscientious, Severus had been deliberately avoiding one of the most mundane
jobs, but not many months went by before Vance noticed and he made a point of
telling Severus that he must play his part.
It was a simple a matter of tidying up the patient records; a trivial
and boring administrative job – too lowly in Severus’s opinion to befit a trainee
professional. But Vance pointed out that
useful medical insights could be gleaned from patient records and it was a
privilege to be permitted to see such confidential data. The records were kept
on cards and were often consulted in a hurry and replaced with insufficient care,
the cards of former patients even getting mixed up with current ones. Confusion of identity also led to misfiling,
especially if the malady was related to a transformation of physical appearance,
so the need to restore the records to good order had medical implications, as
Severus well knew. Realising he could no
longer escape this, he did his share as he worked his way from ward to ward. And he made sure, too, that he read the cards
thoroughly – he didn’t want to endure this tedious job without some profit from
it. It was on the fourth
floor that he found her. The card said
‘incorrectly or maliciously applied Obliviate spell’ and in the rectangle that
held the patient’s name was printed ‘Felicity Gardiner – Muggle-born witch’ in
neat, purple capitals. It was a jolt to see
her name. The date of discharge was less
than three years ago. Severus knew that
Felicity had returned home from Hogwarts and had been sent to a And now, several months on, Severus had put Felicity out of
his mind. Instead he was thinking about
his annual assessment and his first pay rise.
He would be part qualified; the pay and status of Healership marching
closer all the time. He expected to do well in the assessment because whenever
he had been called upon to perform treatments or to obtain potions he had done
so promptly and without mistake. True he
had delayed taking action once or twice, because of private reasons, but he had
been careful about those ‘lapses’ and surely the Healers had not noticed
anything. He had also offered help to
one or two witches who were in a state of anxiety over their medical conditions
or because of other problems in their lives.
But again, those delicate matters were private – any examinations or
advice had been kept highly confidential. I know how to keep things under my hat, he said to
himself. And anyway St Mungo’s is about
healing – so why shouldn’t I offer to help distressed ladies? And as for the occasional small delays –
well, who suffered? Anyway, nobody knows
about those. I’ve already impressed the
Malfoys. Now I’m all set to make my mark
here. Or at least to have it recognised. Mother will continue to be proud of me. And I wonder how she is doing with her latest
romance? His mother, Eileen Snape, had been going out with a metal
charmer from - Chapter 19 - |