Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 16

-----

"Yes, sir. It was the same spells every time and always in the same order." Harry was being grilled by Flitwick now. McGonagall had already hammered him with questions after Dumbledore had had his turn. He was exhausted, and as much as the memory of the half dozen Markings he had witnessed made his stomach churn, he pressed on. Hermione had become the unofficial scribe, taking down every question and answer in Dumbledore's office.

"I don't understand it, Albus." The diminutive professor shook his head. "There are several spells I don't recognize, but even so, I see no way for them to behave the way the Mark is purported to. I was always under the impression that the Marking was done with a single spell." He frowned and looked around the room a moment. Harry suspected there was something else he wanted to ask. Dumbledore must have sensed that as well.

"What is it, Filius?"

The man smiled nervously. "Well, Headmaster, I understand that I do not normally attend, ah, discussions such as this one. So I hope you will all forgive me if I am treading on a well-worn path. Severus, you have first hand knowledge of the Marking. Is there anything beyond the spell-casting done? Perhaps another step that young Harry is not aware of?"

Snape shook his head. "No, Mr. Potter witnessed the entire procedure. Indeed, he knows more about it than I or anyone else does, now. Outside of the Dark Lord, of course." Harry shivered at the thought of sharing something else with Voldemort. "The Marking is far too painful for anyone undergoing it to remember details. And no one else is permitted to stand close enough to hear anything over the screams. I, too, assumed it to be a single complex spell."

Flitwick nodded in response but looked frustrated at the answer. "No potions are taken prior, then?"

"No. As I said, Potter has described the entire ceremony."

"Yes, of course, Severus. You did say that. If the description is complete, then my knowledge must be lacking."

"Well, then, I believe the next step would be to discover the effects of the spells Mr. Potter has named. Filius, I would be greatly relieved to know you are helping us with this, though I will not demand it of you."

The small man was wringing his hands together nervously. "No need to demand it, Albus. I will provide what aid I can."

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "Then we are sure to succeed."

"I suggest we all begin with our respective specialties, then," McGonagall said to her fellow faculty members. "The restricted section, no doubt, will hold any answers that are to be found in Hogwarts."

Hermione let out something between a squeal and a cough. All eyes turned to her. Harry wondered if they had all forgotten the girl was in the room. Even he had been feeling left out once Flitwick had finished his questions for him. "Sorry, Professors, I don't mean to interrupt."

"Nonsense, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied. "Did you have something to add?"

"Yes, sir. Or, that is to say, I may. I've got something of a list of what Voldemort can do through the Mark, various properties it has displayed, and so on. Some of it's based on what we've witnessed happen to Professor Snape, but mostly I recorded what Harry's seen."

McGonagall beamed at her pupil proudly. "Well done, Miss Granger. If we can narrow down a list of effects, we can conduct a more direct search. You have this list with you?"

"No, professor, it's in some of my notebooks back in the tower. I can get it, though."

"We can set up a workspace of our own in the faculty lounge, then. It's near enough to the library. Yes, Miss Granger, I think you should fetch your books immediately."

Hermione put her quill down and rolled up the parchment she had been writing in. Harry could see she was angry about something. If she had been that mad at Ron or Harry, she would have already lit into them, so Harry assumed McGonagall was to blame, though he had no idea what the instructor had done. Hermione, it seemed, intended to make her feelings known, though she was keeping herself much calmer than she would have with her friends.

"Professor, I object to you using the faculty lounge for this. I am not normally permitted in there except for rare situations involving my duties as prefect. If this goes into the school year, people will know something is going on."

McGonagall graced the girl with a patient smile. "Miss Granger, while your wish to help is a noble one, it is best that you let us handle this now." Harry saw where that was coming from, and wondered if Hermione would, too. An outburst of hysterics would just prove McGonagall's belief that Hermione was too young to be of use.

"I see," Hermione said simply. "But with all due respect, Professor, if any member of the faculty had been researching this for weeks, none of you would dream of taking their notes and excluding them from the rest of the work." She stood up. "But if I were to refuse to give up the notes I have worked very hard to compile, it would only end up hurting Professor Snape and Harry, and who knows who else, so I'll go fetch my books." With a polite nod, she left the room.

"Well," McGonagall said, looking flustered.

"You know, Minerva, Miss Granger has proven adept at the kind of research we will be doing. Hasn't she, Harry?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes, sir." Harry smiled broadly, happy that Dumbledore was sticking up for his friend and giving him a chance to do the same.

"Of course she has, Albus," McGonagall replied. "But surely we cannot allow students to become further embroiled in this?"

Snape snorted and Harry laughed. McGonagall looked scandalized. "With all due respect," Harry said, using Hermione's words, "she knows just as much as I do about the Mark, now. And she's better at putting these things together, so she'd definitely be helpful. Plus, she's literally got entire books filled with notes and probably remembers every word, so things would be faster if she's helping. And as for her being embroiled . . . She decided to be my friend, and while that may be the most illogical thing she's ever done, Voldemort knows about it, and he's already planning on killing her for it. Plus, she made a few Death Eaters mad last Spring, didn't she? I'd say she's as embroiled as she's going to get."

"Harry!" McGonagall looked even more shocked. "I am appalled to hear you speak like that. Your friends are in mortal danger; you should take that seriously."

Harry paled at the accusation and had no words to respond. He felt suddenly ill. It was his fault his friends were in danger, after all. When had he become so callous as to disregard that?

"Minerva, a word?" Snape gestured to the door to the conference room, and Harry barely noticed the two professors exit the room.

-----

Severus was watching Harry while Minerva spoke, and it did not require Legilemency to see how her words affected the boy. His temper was at a boil, though he imagined that only Albus would have realized that. Certainly Minerva had no idea as she followed him out to the hall. With the door firmly closed behind them, he turned on his colleague and allowed his anger to show in the cold fire of his eyes.

"Potter is painfully aware of the danger his friends are in, I assure you," he began, his voice cold and even.

"Severus-"

"During our Occlumency lessons this summer, I have sifted through every emotion the boy is capable of, and there is nothing in this world that he fears more than to see his friends hurt because of him. If you are misled into thinking he does not take it seriously, that is only because he has succeeding in burying those fears into the deepest corners of his mind. If he did not bury them, he would probably find himself unable to rise out of bed in the morning or gather the strength to breath on his own. I did not know you had a cruel side, Minerva. It is unbecoming." Snape spun on his heel and returned to the office.

He did not turn around when he heard Minerva enter the room again, and her voice was shaking when she asked, "Where is Harry?"

"I sent him back to his room. It seems the memories of the Markings were a bit too much for him as he was growing upset," Dumbledore answered.

Snape smirked with satisfaction and silently praised the Headmaster for his consideration of the boy, as well as his tact. As sincere as her concern for her students was, Minerva often refused to consider that others may be just as concerned as she.

Granger came back into the room in a huff of petulance. "These are all my notes, Professors. I've organized them already, and it should be mostly self-explanatory." She turned to leave and was stopped by Dumbledore.

"Miss Granger, if you would, please wait a moment. I believe we will use one of the antechambers off the library for our work. If I recall, the one behind the tapestry of St. George and his pet dragon should do the job. Are we all agreed?"

McGonagall answered, "Of course, Headmaster. Miss Granger, we would never dream of preventing you from helping. Perhaps Professors Snape and Flitwick and myself should divide the notes and spend the evening seeing what we can make of this?"

Flitwick agreed, and Snape, for the first time in decades, allowed himself to consider for the briefest moment that freedom might be possible.

"And Miss Granger, when you see Mr. Potter, please inform him of our meeting place, and that, I . . . Please tell him that I spoke prematurely earlier."

-----

Harry left the Headmaster's office and wandered slowly down the stairs. With the castle practically empty, he heard Hermione's footsteps well before he saw her and ducked into an adjoining hallway before he was spotted. He was in no mood to talk at the moment. McGonagall's words had hurt, as much for what they meant as who was speaking them. Knowing that he was indulging in self-pity, he decided that a walk around the castle was better than returning to the tower right away. It was no surprise that he found himself in the dungeon almost immediately. With a sigh, he realized that not only did he have no idea how to get to Snape's rooms without his map, but it was also unlikely that the man would be returning to them soon.

Enjoying the silence of the dungeon, Harry found his way to the potions classroom and sat in his usual seat. After lighting a few candles, he thought back on what McGonagall had said and determined not to let it bother him. He knew what the instructor was like, and he knew that she was just trying to keep her students in as little danger as possible.

"Miss Granger has made her own decisions," Snape's voice interrupted his thoughts. The man should be forced to wear a bell. Or tap shoes. "As you have a habit of pointing out to me, everyone has their own decisions to make. No one can keep you from protecting your friends. And you cannot keep them from protecting you."

Harry nodded. "I know. I just didn't expect something like that from her."

"You can hardly hold that against her. She is the head of Gryffindor, after all, and cannot be expected to think before she speaks. I suspect she will apologize next time you see her."

Harry let out a soft chuckle. "You scared her, didn't you?" he asked.

"I did no such thing." Snape snorted.

"Then you made her feel guilty about it. Like you did with Remus the night of the museum robbery."

Snape raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction. "I merely pointed out the error in her assumption. Whether that led to guilty feelings on her part is hardly my fault or concern."

Another soft laugh. "Of course not, Professor."

"So, did you have a reason to be here in my classroom, or were you wallowing?"

It sounded like Snape was preparing to dismiss him, so Harry quickly came up with a reason to remain. The Potions Master had a way of cutting right through to what was bothering him without having to dredge up bad feelings and he was in the mood for some quiet company.

"Of course I had a reason," Harry insisted. "I wondered if you had a potion to remove scars." Snape raised an eyebrow at him again. "Not that scar. I know better. But I didn't feel like going to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey always makes me spend the night, no matter what the problem is." He raised his arm and pulled his sleeve away from his hand. "Think you can make this disappear? I'd rather not have to live with any more scars than I can avoid."

Snape took his hand and examined the pale writing carefully. "Who did this to you?" he asked sharply.

"Umbridge. She made me write out lines, and every time I did, it cut into my hand," Harry responded. Snape growled. "Can you heal the scar, then?" Harry asked.

"I can, yes. However . . ." The man frowned. "Harry, I am telling you this because I have promised not to keep information from you in the name of protecting you. History has shown that to cause more problems than it solves. What you do with this information is up to you, and I do not want you to mistake my willingness to divulge it as any kind of endorsement of action. Is that clear?"

Harry agreed, and Snape continued. "That was done with an enchanted quill, correct?" Harry nodded. "That spell, while not exactly Dark, is at the very best questionable. A contract written in blood is a powerful thing, and to force anyone to write anything at all in their own blood is grounds for suspicion. Additionally, regardless of the spell used, to create that effect as a form of punishment for a child is unconscionable. If I heal the scar, there will be very little evidence should you decide to tell anyone about it."

"Well, Umbridge has already been punished pretty well, I'd say," Harry said.

"Umbridge was placed in a position of authority here by someone else, Harry."

Harry caught on. "Fudge."

Snape nodded. "He removed Headmaster Dumbledore from Hogwarts and put a torturer in his place." He was, perhaps, overstating things, but Harry understood what he meant. He also knew that Fudge was still one of the greatest liabilities that the Light had.

"So what do you think we should do?" Harry asked.

"I have told you, Harry, it's your decision."

"Oh, I've made my decision, professor." Harry grinned. "I mean, what's the best way to go about making sure the right people hear about this?" Snape gazed coolly at Harry for a moment, then grabbed some floo powder and called to Dumbledore.

"Albus, how quickly can you have an auror here? Two would be best, actually. At least one of whom is not a member of the Order."

Dumbledore looked intrigued, but chose to trust the former spy. "I can arrange for Miss Tonks to be here immediately. I am sure she can bring along a colleague."

"Please do so, then. I am returning to your office with Mr. Potter."

When they arrived at the office, Tonks and a man Harry did not recognize were waiting with Dumbledore. Snape wasted no time explaining what had happened in the classroom. When he was finished speaking, the auror turned to Harry, but Dumbledore interrupted. "Perhaps it would be best if Mrs. Bones were called in. I believe this investigation is going to reach a level that will require her presence." Harry noticed that the good natured twinkle had disappeared from the Headmaster's eyes. If he had any second thoughts about continuing with this, Harry understood that it was too late. Dumbledore was out for blood. The Headmaster tossed some floo powder into the fireplace and was soon speaking with Amelia Bones.

"Good evening, Albus. I hope all is well," she said.

"Sadly, Amelia, all is not well. Not well at all. I need you to come here immediately."

"Of course. Should I ask Cornelius to come as well?"

"No, Amelia. Cornelius's time will be better spent with his solicitor."

-----

Dinner that night for Harry was a hurried affair between interviews. Once his story was told, Amelia Bones had announced that an investigation into Umbridge's tenure would commence immediately. Harry finally headed for the tower well after the sun had set. Back in the common room, he was greeted by a healthy and whole Luna Lovegood.

Harry fought off questions regarding his whereabouts, preferring to satisfy himself that Luna was indeed well. The group shared stories; Luna learned of the summer's lessons and adventures, and Luna shared her experiences in Norway and her abduction. She did not seem surprised to hear of Snape's heroics. Ron must have noticed, as he commented on it.

"He's always been nice to me," she explained. "He never let the Slytherins be too mean to me." Ron and Neville looked skeptical.

As Luna seemed to be feeling well and news of her father had been promising too–he had been released from St. Mungo's yesterday, treated for exposure and some minor injuries–Harry decided to fill everyone in on what had been going on in Dumbledore's office. Ron and Hermione already knew of the punishment, of course, and Neville, Ginny and Luna were horrified.

"You know, Harry," Luna said softly, "Fudge will never let the investigation continue. Even Amelia Bones has to answer to him."

"I have to do something, though," Harry insisted. "If people can see how many mistakes he's made, surely they'd want someone else in charge."

"Oh, I agree," Luna said. "But people won't find out this way." She smiled softly. "Maybe Hermione should call Rita Skeeter again."

Hermione grinned at the other girl. "Yes, maybe Skeeter can overhear something about the investigation. And maybe she'd be willing to send an article over to your father again."

Another idea struck Harry. He ran up to his room and found his map in his trunk. Snape was in his private quarters. With a quick explanation, Harry headed out to find his professor.

He had a good idea where the man's rooms were, but having never been there, he did not know exactly what he was looking for. The map showed Harry in the hallway, and indicated a wall between him and Snape. So there door must be somewhere close. But where? The boy tried knocking on some of the nearby paintings, hoping his legendary luck would hold. Finally, a bust, hidden in shadows, caught his attention. He noticed the eyes watching him and made his way over to the sculpture. He was not surprised to see the name 'Salazar Slytherin' engraved on the pedestal.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry said, feeling somewhat foolish to be intimidated by a torso. "I'm looking for Professor Snape's rooms. I don't suppose you can help me, can you?"

The statue eyed him suspiciously. "I am under the impression that the Slytherin prefects inform all members of my House how to contact him. How is it that you lack that knowledge?"

"Oh, well, you see, sir, I'm not in Slytherin House. Is the professor's door nearby?"

"It is. And if you had any legitimate business with him, you would already know that."

Harry considered how to continue. Salazar Slytherin did not seem to approve of his presence here. Certainly not since he had confessed to not being in Slytherin. Time for a new approach, he thought.

"I don't suppose you can open the door for me, can you sir? I assure you he won't object," Harry said, this time in Parseltongue, though he was not sure if the man's bust would have inherited the ability.

"Yes, I can open the door," the statue hissed back. "And if you can provide the password, either in a human language or in Parseltongue, I will do so."

So much for that. Harry frowned and considered simply waiting to see if the man would leave his apartment soon.

-----

Snape was finally settling back into his rooms when the face of Salazar Slytherin pushed out from the stone wall. It never fails. I finally get back to my home, and the interruptions never cease.

"Severus," it said. "There is a boy here looking for you. He claims he is not a Slytherin, yet he speaks Parseltongue. I assume he is the one who killed my Basilisk."

"That would be Potter, yes. Ask him what he wants."

A stony eyebrow was raised at him. It was a look he had learned from the Founder and spent years perfecting. "I will do no such thing. I am not a messenger." The wall shimmered, leaving an archway to the hall. Harry, startled, peered through the hole and smiled. He hissed something at the bust in the hallway and gave a quick bow, then dashed into Snape's living room.

"Severus, if you intend to punish him for disturbing you, please do so in a room with my portrait so I may enjoy it." With that, the wall smoothed, leaving no trace of the archway or the face.

-----

Having heard Slytherin's words, Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, sir. If I'm disturbing you, I can come back later."

"No need. He let you in to spite me, but I would have opened the wall for you anyway. You came for the potion?"

"Oh, actually, I'd forgotten about that. Do you think it's okay for me to use it?"

"The scars have been seen by Bones and Dumbledore, as well as two aurors and myself. That should suffice. If you are eager to have the wound taken care of, I see no reason why it must wait."

"In that case, yes, I'd like the potion, thank you."

Snape nodded and left through one of the two doors leading further into the suite, giving Harry a moment to take in his surroundings. A fireplace in the back wall lent heat and light into the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, hardly a surprise to Harry. A table and four chairs occupied the corner farthest from the fire, and a couch and two leather wingback chairs stood facing it. Snape returned carrying a small jar and gestured to Harry to join him on the couch.

"This is a salve I made several years ago. It was one of my attempts to erase the Dark Mark from my arm. In addition to having superb healing qualities, it should negate any lingering magic on the wound. While it failed to aid me, I am confident that Umbridge is no match for my brewing skills."

Harry smile and agreed that any spell of hers would not last long against Snape's best work. "I need to rub it on my hand, then?" He asked.

"Yes, and it must be kept warm with a charm as you do so, as that will stimulate the healing properties." Snape watched Harry fumble with the jar, trying to keep his wand pointed at the top of his hand while simultaneously using a few free fingers to rub the salve in. As amusing as the scene was, Snape took pity on the boy. "Let me help. Keep the charm focused on the salve already on your hand." Snape snatched the jar and gathered a small amount of the thick substance. He held Harry's hand in his left as he worked the oils in with his right. As he did that, he asked, "So, then, what other reason did you have for coming here? Or was this merely a social call?"

"Oh, I thought maybe you'd like to give a quote for an article I have a feeling will be appearing in The Quibbler soon."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Harry, any direct interference in the investigation can land you in quite a bit of trouble. It is one thing to report an abuse to the authorities. It is another thing entirely to publicly spread accusations that go beyond Umbridge."

"That's why I'm not going to publicly do anything. Rita Skeeter's just going to write about what she overheard."

"How do you plan on making that happen? You cannot leave the castle, and she cannot enter it unless you invite her."

"Well, we'll tell her what she would have overheard." Harry grinned. "She's too afraid of Hermione to tell anyone that we'd staged it all. Plus, it'll look like she'd done some kind of investigation rather than just being handed a story, so she'll end up looking like a first-rate reporter, too."

"There is more to you and your friends than meets the eye, it seems."

Harry took that as a compliment and replied, "Luckily for us, there's more to Rita Skeeter than meets the eye, too. So, would you care to be overheard saying anything?"

"As a member of the school's faculty, of course it is my duty to protect the Minister's reputation," Snape said thoughtfully. "You would do well to remember, Mr. Potter, that no matter what ill-will you may bear for Cornelius Fudge, it would be wrong for you to assume he meant you any harm in sending Umbridge here. He may not be vicious. Perhaps he is simply incompetent."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "I will certainly try to remember that." Harry committed the phrase to memory. No doubt Rita would have fun with it.

"A bit more heat on this, I think," Snape said as he focused again on the boy's hand. Harry recast the charm with a bit more power and relaxed into the couch. The warmth spread from the back of his hand and along his wrist and fingers. Snape began working the salve in with both hands. His thumbs made small circles over his scars. As his grip shifted, the tips of his fingers glided around Harry's palm in something between a tickle and a caress. Harry shook his head and turned his attention to making sure his warming charm was working. After several minutes, Snape examined Harry's hand closely and declared the salve a success.

Harry beamed at his professor. "Thank you for that. For the potion, and for applying it." Snape gave a nod in his direction and closed the jar. "Maybe one day I'll be able to return the favor." Harry indicated the man's arm.

Snape looked at him in silence, seeming to consider Harry's words carefully. "That suddenly seems possible, yes."

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Harry thanked Snape again and returned to his friends in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione took down both Snape's and Harry's remarks and attached them to the letter she had written to the reporter.

That night, Harry went to bed feeling strangely satisfied.