Villain of the Piece
Part 3 Waiting Games
- Chapter 38 -
Chapter 38: The New
Potion 30th September to It was at breakfast the following morning that his arm
began to burn. Breathing slowly, he sat
back, laying the knife and fork softly onto the plate. Sliding his newspaper towards the edge of the
table, he scribbled two words on the corner of a page and tore it off. Then ignoring Minerva’s frosty stare he
walked around Dumbledore’s chair and showed him the scrap of paper, holding his
hand cupped and beneath the table top so there was little chance of the message
being seen by others. Dumbledore read
the words ‘It’s happening’ and gave Severus a sharp glance. “Right now?” he asked, his eyes troubled. “Yes, as we speak” Severus murmured. “I should not ignore it much longer.” “Then go now. Right
now” Dumbledore murmured back. “I will tell
Minerva you are indisposed. She will
arrange cover.” Minerva looked suspicious as he abandoned his half-eaten meal
and walked briskly away, stuffing the newspaper into a pocket as he went. His first call was to his bedroom, where he destroyed
the note and the newspaper, and checked his pockets to ensure he had his mask
and the potion supplies he habitually carried.
Then he pocked his camera and sprinted to the school gates, wondering
what to do next. You know what to do, he said to himself. You’ve been told what to do – focus your mind
on the Dark Lord and Disapparate. He
will draw you to the destination … This is awful! What if I don’t like the destination? What if it’s too far for me to manage? What if I Splinch? I’ll look such a fool! Get a hold of yourself, man – you could do Severus didn’t know where he was when he arrived. The room was as dark as if it was late
evening. Only one candle burned, held by
a squat, ugly wizard who smelled of drink and who held his wand threateningly
in front of him. His upper face was
masked, the lower part showing a swarthiness that hinted of two-day old beard
on skin that looked sweaty. As for the
room, it looked like it might be a storeroom, all Severus could see were boxes
and all he could smell was dust. “You took yer time” the wizard said gruffly. His wand flicked nervously as he spoke,
emitting a golden spark. “It was necessary to concoct an excuse” Severus sneered. “I cannot just walk out – I have a position
to maintain. Anyway, who are you? And I would appreciate it if you would put
down that wand!” “I’m yer host” the masked wizard replied. “Down ’ere … This way. Yer don’t need yer mask, but don’t light yer
wand! … Watch yer step.” They descended a flight of filthy wooden stairs that had no
handrail, and came to rest on the stone floor of a cellar. In comparison with the room above the cellar
was crowded. A wand and a blue candle
were burning, and Severus could see Bellatrix Lestrange, Alecto Carrow, and
Ferdinand Jugson. Between the two
witches and being supported by them, was a wizard kneeling on the floor, his
head lolling forward. “Welcome, Severus!” a cold voice said, and Severus knew
that the Dark Lord watched from the shadows.
“See what the girls have brought home?” Voldemort continued. “Alecto found him, but Bella caught him. Unfortunately she damaged him. Like an over-eager, mouse-catching cat,
aren’t you, Bella.” “Are you angry with me, Lord?” “No, Bella. Perhaps
not this time” Voldemort purred. “Severus
can mend matters for you. Revive him,
Severus. I assume you have the means.” Bellatrix caught hold of the injured wizard’s hair and
yanked his head back, causing his mouth to fall open. Severus poured a reviving draught into the
parted lips and the wizard spluttered and became half-conscious. His eyes opened slightly, rolled in his head,
and closed again. He groaned. “Now, Severus” Voldemort said conversationally, “I hope you
have brought quill and parchment as well as that little toy of yours, because
this has not been set up just for your amusement. I want you to try a potion and note the
effects. Ferdinand, give Severus that
special potion you obtained.” “O let me! Let me! Please!” Bellatrix implored as Ferdinand made
to give a potion bottle to Severus.
“Please, Lord!” “What a child you are, Bella” Voldemort sneered. “I’m not sure you deserve any treats. Does she, Alecto? She deprived you of your prey … so … what do
you think?” Alecto giggled stupidly,
saying nothing, and Voldemort smiled, pretending to give in. “Very well, just this once” he sighed. “But feed him just a drop! I need enough left for Severus to analyse. Don’t overdo matters, or it will be the last
thing you ever do.” In a nervous silence Ferdinand passed the potion bottle to
Bellatrix and she poured half an egg-cupful into the wizard’s mouth. Then she held out the bottle to Severus with
a triumphant sneer. “All yours, Snape” she said mockingly. “I get the fun – you get the work. Poor Sevvy-wevvy.” She turned her attention back to the slumped wizard, as did
they all because he was starting to gasp. Severus pulled a notepad from a pocket. “Cork the bottle for me, and give me a little
light” he said to Jugson. Ferdinand Jugson obeyed, holding his lit wand near to the
page. The observation lasted not much more than half an
hour. Severus took a photograph and made
copious notes, sniffing the potion bottle before re-stoppering it tightly. It smelt strongly of stewed Streeler. “I’ll have to try a bezoar soon” he said,
sounding as casual as he could. “Oh no” Voldemort replied sweetly. “We are going to take this to the end. Why do you think we are not masked?” “But if you let him die he’ll not be able to reply to
questions” Severus pointed out, keeping his eyes on his notes and feeling as if
he was treading on eggs. “We don’t need to ask him anything” Voldemort said
smoothly. “All I need now is his
corpse. Alive, he is totally
superfluous.” “Are you sure?” Severus mused. “Who is he?” A pain like a tongue of flame licked along the Mark on his
arm. “Manners, Severus” Voldemort said
dangerously. “Do not presume to question
my decisions.” Bellatrix suppressed a smirk but Alecto looked frightened,
and they continued in silence broken only by occasional sounds from the injured
wizard. When the man was dead and
Severus could glean no more data he was told to owl his findings to Lucius by
the end of the following day and that for the present his job was done. It was over as fast as it had begun. The unshaven wizard conducted Severus upstairs
and told him to Disapparate from the dark storeroom. Severus took his time, letting his eyes
adjust to the gloom. Still nothing but
dusty boxes came into view, but faint sounds reached his ears; there was a
street twenty to thirty feet away, he was sure of it. He could hear voices but no traffic except
possibly the rumbling wheels of a cart. “You’re done ’ere.
Git goin’ ” he was told. Severus Disapparated, although not very far, trying to aim
for the street. If it’s full of Muggles
I’m in trouble, he thought grimly. It was not full of Muggles, it was Diagon Alley. He was close to the empty shop above which
Nobody’s Perfect had once been based.
Thirty yards down the Alley a toffee-apple seller was putting the break
on a cart, its wheels slipping sideways on the cobbles. Severus smiled a small smile and Disapparated
again, heading for the school gates and home. Dumbledore was pacing about his office when Severus
knocked. He was saddened by the
news. As he drank a beaker of very hot,
very black coffee Severus described the injured man as best he could. “No, I do not know him” Dumbledore concluded. “I do not think he is – was – anyone in the Order,
but naturally I’ll check. When can you
have the photograph developed?” “By the end of today, Headmaster” Severus said. “Err, will we have to report the murder? If I do, it will point the finger in my
direction.” “Yes, I know” Dumbledore agreed. “No, I do not use official channels. Excuse me just one moment.” He was gone for five minutes and then
returned. “It is done” he said. “Have no worries on that score. Analyse the potion and write up your
findings. For me, and for Voldemort. Let me have a copy of the photograph as soon
as you can.” “And my classes?” “Minerva took the first one, and Severus went straight to the dungeons and to his office. Apart from an occasional murmur no sound came
from his classroom, so he dunked the film into developing potion and then began
re-writing his notes and analysing. At twelve
minutes before “You can finish up now” he heard The bell sounded and there was a rumbling as the students
got up and left. When Severus entered
the room “Note-taking and then a short test” she said. “Bit of a waste of a double period, but it’s
all I can offer. I’m no potion-maker, I
daren’t let them lose with cauldrons.” “What’s the test?” With a wave of her wand she summoned the answer sheets and
they formed a tidy stack on the desk in front of her. “That was neat” he added, his eyes narrowing. “Antidotes!” she said smugly. “That’s why I let them look things up first,
and make notes, because I was sure you’d not have covered this yet. I thought antidotes on your terrible thirds
was appropriate. It kept them quiet.” “I’ve a few other things in mind to try on them” he muttered
grimly. “Yes, but no doubt illegal” “Yes, quite recovered” he assured her. “Thank you for this morning – I’ll be alright
from now. Although I could most
definitely do with some lunch now.” He said it with feeling, suddenly realising that his
interrupted breakfast had been a long time ago and he had only had coffee
whilst with Dumbledore. “See you in the Great Hall, then” As Severus made his way to the Great Hall he realised that
he did feel better. The morning had been
one of increasing strain, culminating in a death he had to witness rather than
prevent, but he felt in control of himself and able to carry on normally, even
to the extent of eating lunch. It was
clear that Dumbledore appreciated how the grim events might have affected him, and
Severus did not want to show any signs of weakness – he wanted to look tough,
cool, and resourceful, like special agents should. You said you would do great things with the Dark Lord, he reminded
himself – you’ll sail through this, and worse than this if need be. Besides, who else would provide you with such
an unusual potion to play with? He had no chance of sitting next to “Err, sorry I couldn’t help out this morning, Severus”
Wilbert said. “Minerva said you were
under the weather. I’d ’ve lent a hand
if I wasn’t already choc-a-bloc.” “No matter. Minerva
and Aurora covered for me” Severus said graciously. He turned and thanked the Deputy Headmistress,
and assured her that he required no further aid. She gave him a small smile. “So, you’re back in harness?” Wilbert continued. “I must say you look a bit seedy.” “Wilbert!” “Sorry, Minerva, but he does” Wilbert said defensively. “Might as well be honest.” “If you mean I look pale, I always look pale” Severus
insisted. “I am unfortunately indisposed
at times, but once over these bouts I’m perfectly able to function again.” “No cure, then.” “No, Wilbert. As
with the common cold – as with a migraine – there is no permanent cure. These things will occasionally crop up. Now, what’s for lunch? I’m starving.” It was cauliflower cheese, and salad. Oh well, he sighed inwardly, can’t win ’em
all! The house-elves must be on an economy
drive. The afternoon lesson passed in a kind of dream. Severus floated above it, leaving the seventh-years
to follow his written instructions, but regrettably he found his mind straying
to the events of the morning. After further
work on the photograph and the analysis, and a fine dinner of lamb cutlets with
redcurrant and rosemary jus, the Headmaster asked to see him. When he got to Dumbledore’s office he was not
the only visitor; a young wizard of about thirty-something was already seated
by the fire. He stood up to greet Severus. Dumbledore introduced the visitor as Bill
Ogden of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, and referred to Severus as Mr Black. “Tell us again, Bill” the Headmaster said wearily. “Tell us your worst. And let me get you a drink.” “No, not for me thanks” Bill said. “I’ve still got hours till my shift
ends. Okay, the bad news is we drew a
blank. No one at that shop when we
arrived. Scuff marks on the floor,
broken glass and a nice sticky mess. And
one interesting box! But not a shred of
evidence in the cellar. Someone did a
thorough clean up down there.” “I wouldn’t have expected Bellatrix Lestrange to hang
around” Severus said ruefully. “She’s
far too fly.” “The box of bottles was interesting, though” Bill informed
them and he pulled a bottle from his pocket; it looked like brown ale. “This is the hard stuff” he said. “This is the infamous dark chocolate
schnapps. The sticky patch turned out to
be the white. We think this shop might
be a kind of depot. I reckon they were
trying to clear the shop and had to leg it.” “Is this such a great find?” Severus asked, thinking that
illicit alcohol was a far cry from Death Eater torture and murder. “Oh yes” Bill assured him.
“This is quite dangerous. Kids
are started off on the white. It’s even
given away almost for nothing, slipped to them in pubs and places. But after their first taste, they start
buying. Can’t help it – they crave it
just enough to go searching. But every
time they buy the white they also get a token.
Collect fifty tokens and you get a cut-price bottle of dark. Once they do that there’s no turning back.” “So it wasn’t a wasted journey” Dumbledore observed. “By no means!” Bill assured him. “This wizard you saw, Mr Black – the one who
said he was your host – did he look like this?” From another pocket he pulled a poor quality photograph. It showed a wizard in a tavern. It looked like The Lone Dragon but the wizard
was partially in shadow; nothing was distinct. “Yes, I think that’s him” Severus said cautiously. “I only saw his mouth and chin. And, frankly this photograph is not much more
help.” “No. He’s a way of
avoiding cameras” Bill agreed, “Like he can sense them.” He looked at Dumbledore sharply and added “I
take it, it’s okay to name names?” “I’d be grateful if you would” the Headmaster replied. “Then if Mr Black hears the name from other
sources he will be able to help fit the pieces together. Like we are doing now. I think we should share as much as we can.” “Okay” Bill agreed.
“This handsome geezer is Feodor Carrow.” “The father of Amycus and Alecto?” Severus asked. Bill looked blank, but Dumbledore nodded. “Carrow senior has two children” he
explained. “They are both Death Eaters.” “But Feodor isn’t?” “Not as far as I know” Severus said to Bill. “He might be – as I’ve explained to the
Headmaster, I don’t know them all. Quite
possibly only the Dark Lord knows them all.” “Yes, he might be a Death Eater” Dumbledore said mildly, “Or
he might simply be contributing funds to their operations. Not all of Voldemort’s servants are rich. They need sources of finance. The distribution of this evil drink would be
a huge help. Voldemort, as far as I
know, has no particular source of income, although he might exist on extortion
or blackmail.” “He seems to rely on the hospitality of his Death Eaters”
Severus explained. “He is housed and fed
by them.” “The Malfoys and the Lestranges could do that” Dumbledore pointed
out, “But not families like the Carrows – not on a long-term basis.” Finally Severus drew out his photograph. He felt uneasy about doing so. It was one thing to show it to Dumbledore,
but to lay it before a Ministry employee was not what he had bargained for. “In terms of clarity I didn’t do much better than you” he
admitted. “But you can see all of the
man’s face. Do you know him?” “No. Can I take
this, Mr Black?” Severus looked at Dumbledore who nodded and said “Let me
have just one more thorough look … No, he isn’t known to me. You can take it, Bill. Please be discrete about how you came by
it. The usual rules.” “Are you going to arrest Jugson?” Severus asked Bill,
wondering what ‘the usual rules’ were.
“He was there, and he has a known place of employment. The Ministry.” “No. Can’t” Bill
replied. “We’ve no evidence other than
yours. There’s no other face in this
photo but the victim’s, and even if there was it doesn’t tell much of the
story. We can only nab Jugson if we
catch him in flagrante. Unless you want
to stand up in court and accuse him. And
then it’s only your word against his – a nice, public slanging match that’d
be! Anyway, I gave my word to Albus that
you’re to be kept out of anything like that – that’s the deal we made when we
started to work together. We go a long
way back, don’t we, Professor.” “We do” the Headmaster agreed. “And – for your benefit, Mr Black – I must
explain that I have also worked with Bill’s father and even with his
grandfather. The Ogden-Dumbledore
alliance was invaluable in the Grindelwald days.” Severus nodded attentively.
“I appreciate your discretion” he said, “I’m only sorry that it seems to
be hindering your progress.” “Don’t shed too many tears” Bill insisted. “It’s quite useful to be able to observe Jugson
– he might yield more that way.” He
looked from face to face. “I think we’re
all done, Albus” he said happily. “My
thanks to you both.” “Are you off now?” “Yes.” “I fear I share Mr Black’s, opinion – we haven’t given you
much.” “A photo of the victim” Bill said proudly. “Good enough for anyone who knows him to
recognise him. And a possible lead to
where Feodor Carrow hangs out! I’m
feeling hopeful about that. I’ve reason
to believe he’s linked with one Alun Rosier, and Alun Rosier dabbles in imports. I’ve got a hunch where this trail leads. If we can only stop the Dr Hooke that’d be
something! Good night, all!” He pocketed the photograph and used Floo powder to leave
from Dumbledore’s hearth in the anteroom next to the main office. “Now we will have
that nightcap” Dumbledore said, opening the drinks cabinet. “I’ll summon some coffee, and I’ve got a good
cognac in here that Horace gave me last Christmas. It’s been rather an awful day, one way and
another. I think we need a pick-me-up.” The coffee was welcome and the Napoleon brandy fiery and bracing. “I presume Bill Ogden knows my true identity” Severus said,
sounding as though he hoped the opposite was true. “Oh very probably” Dumbledore agreed. “But Bill will play the game. Play it as adroitly as ever you and I
can. I’ve grown to trust him absolutely. Just as I did his father and grandfather.” He paused to savour the brandy, and then
asked “Well, how is the analysis coming along?” “Pretty well finished” Severus said proudly. “If you don’t mind I’ll just go and get my
notes.” He returned in less than five minutes, a little out of
breath but eager to show his findings. “I’ll owl this early tomorrow” he said, showing the report to
Dumbledore. “As you see, the substance is
a kind of dementation draught, but still very rough around the edges. It kills quite fast. And that makes me think something is
lacking.” Deep in thought, he finished
his cognac without even noticing. “You think you could brew better?” Dumbledore suggested. “Better? Perhaps”
Severus replied wistfully. “I was
wondering what is actually missing – I doubt that this works as desired. Whoever would want to use this would want to
prolong the agony – why else make it a dementation draught? But I hope I won’t be asked to perfect this. I’ll be in a fix if I am.” “You cannot refuse.” “Exactly.” “Which means there will be testing … and, therefore,
victims.” “Exactly.” “Which will not distress you unduly, Severus, because you are
a master of clinical detachment. You
will enjoy taking the photographs – assuming Voldemort lets you.” “He will surely let me take some” Severus agreed. “He knows observation is my weakness; my
passion.” “Yet in spite of that you are still ill at ease.” “Involvement makes me a murderer” said Severus, “As well
you know, Headmaster. Even today,
although I was only an observer, although Ferdy supplied the poison and Bella
administered it, I was an accomplice to murder.
I am only too aware of that. And
unless I wish to sign my own death warrant I will have to face this situation
again and again.” “Yes” Dumbledore sighed.
“Unless you decide to say no to Voldemort, I don’t think you have any
choice.” “To say no is suicide” Severus pointed out. “Besides … you do not want me to say no.” “I would prefer you to continue as a Death Eater”
Dumbledore admitted, “But I am giving you – right now – the right to say no to
him. In all conscience I cannot take
that right from you; it would be wrong even to try.” “Thank you, Headmaster” Severus said softly. “I understand.” “You must make your own decisions, as events unfold”
Dumbledore added. “…Yes” Severus agreed. That night Severus lay awake for hours. Scenes kept going through his head – the
late-night talk with Dumbledore, the events in the cellar, the meeting with
Bill Ogden, and the analysis of the potion.
He also kept debating whether to get up and take a sleeping draught or
just stay put and wait for sleep to come, but he seemed incapable of making a
decision, or even of getting his mind into a stable train of thought. Despite his excitement about the mystery
potion’s possibilities, it was memories of the cellar that kept returning,
haunting him in a way that he didn’t expect. At the hospital the patients had arrived already injured or
ill, and apart from his desire to observe their condition his expectation of
himself had always been to assist with their cure. It was not so with the events in the cellar – he had to
watch a man being harmed; and he was not allowed to try to save him. Severus did not share the delight of
Voldemort and Bellatrix. He might be
clinical and inquisitive but he did not share their sadism. To learn that of himself was, paradoxically, a
blow – because he had not expected to feel so troubled by Death Eater
activities, nor so trapped by them. The image of Dumbledore saying ‘you have the right to say
no’ also kept returning. The old man had
bound him by a vow of obedience, and yet his instructions would be fair. He was an honourable man. He expected Severus to act – at a fundamental
level – according to his own conscience, and it sounded as though he would not use
the power of the Unbreakable Vow to run counter to whatever conscience might
dictate. “I do have clinical detachment” Severus insisted in the
silent darkness of his dungeon bedroom.
“That’s what made me so right for a medical career. I may be low on empathy, but I’m no
full-blown sadist. I may be curious
about pain and death, but after this morning I must face up to the fact that I am
not excited by it. And I do not relish
being forced into the position of being a criminal! But … if I do not carry out the Dark Lord’s instructions,
someone else will, and I will have thrown my life away by disobedience to him. Damn
this! Who said conscience was a hard task-mistress?” Severus rose early to owl the report to Lucius. Then, as it was too soon for breakfast, he
went to the staff room. A copy of
yesterday’s Prophet was lying on a coffee table and he took it to catch up,
having destroyed his own copy the previous day.
While he was reading, Professors Vector and Sprout came in, surprised to
find the staff room occupied. “Good morning, Severus” “Good morning” Severus answered. “No. I
was going to wait until breakfast.” “Want some now?” Septima asked in her doleful voice. “We’re going to; so if you want to change
your mind, now’s the time to do it.” “Thank you; no” Severus decided. “I’ll wait.” “Right you are” she replied. “Well, don’t mind us if we just chat.” She went to the refreshment table, tapped a stubby wand
twice against a battered tea caddy, and within a minute a tray of tea for two
appeared, sent up from the kitchens. She
and “So he couldn’t say, then, what happened?” “No” Septima insisted.
“All he spoke of was claws.
Fighting off claws. But his cuts
are full of gallicia sap.” “How long will they have to keep him in?” “Some weeks I think.
Anyway, his memory might come back by then.” Severus tried not to eavesdrop. The witches didn’t speak loudly, but it was
hard not to tune in to odd, interesting bits of their conversation. The two women were different and yet oddly
alike; His mind turned to |
Author’s Notes I’ve often wondered just how much of a bad man Snape
is. Sirius said he didn’t think
Dumbledore would let Snape work at the school if he had ever worked for
Voldemort. Dumbledore said Snape was a
Death Eater, and that he is now ‘no more a Death Eater than I am’ and that has
got to mean something. So here is my attempt at making it mean something – Snape
is curious about pain etc and low on empathy, but he is not a full blown
sadist. And I think also that if that is
true of him he wouldn’t necessarily be proud of it; that he might prefer to
think of himself as a cruel, dark wizard, that he has fallen short of some
ideal in his own mind and given us – by chance – the character that we love –
the dark and secret wizard who is inexplicably on the side of right. In Rowling’s world he might turn out to be a villain – he
might be the kind of restless, rootless person who turns and turns again, but I
hope not. |
- Chapter 39 - |