Hobson's Choice

Snape held out his empty glass again. Without comment, Aberforth conjured forth another brew, and waited.

Snape took it back, but did not drink from it. He just stared at it silently, and recalled the memory of that fateful night at Hog's Head so many years ago.

It had been a cold, wet night. He remembered having to mutter a quick drying spell on his dripping cloak and boots before stealing up the creaky stairs in Hog's Head Inn to the room where Albus Dumbledore was meeting with some applicant for the whimsical subject of Divination. Because he had been under strict orders by Voldemort to secure the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts, he had decided to find out as much as he could about the Headmaster's interview style.

Initially, he had thought the night to be a colossal waste of time. Five minutes into the interview, he had pegged Sybil Trelawney as nothing but a fraud, what with her breathy, mystic voice and outrageous pronunciations of doom.

'Oh Headmaster, the color of your aura is despairing, very despairing. You must not sleep past the first crow tomorrow, otherwise, you will not be able to keep down your meals for the rest of the week.'

He had hardly been able to suppress his snort at that, nor at Dumbledore's resigned tone when he dutifully answered, 'Thank you Sybil, I shall make sure my portraits wake me up in time.'

He had just been about to turn away in disgust when he heard Sybil's unexpected cry.

The room felt like it had dropped ten degrees when she next opened her mouth. Instead of her usual ethereal tones, her voice was low and harsh.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
Born to those who have thrice defied him,
Born as the seventh month dies...'

Disconcerted, he had pressed his ear hard against the door, and so intent he had been at catching Sybil's disquieting words that he didn't hear someone creep up behind him. Thus he was startled when he suddenly felt a rough hand grab him by the scruff of his neck, and a wand poking him rather sharply into his back.

'What do you think you're playing at?' It was the scraggly barman from Hog's Head Bar.

Snape quickly schooled his expression into one of mild confusion. 'Sir? I must have come the wrong way up the stairs. I thought this was my room and was surprised to hear voices. I'd only wanted to make sure.'

The door burst open then, revealing an irate-looking Sybil and a grave Albus Dumbledore.

The barman had prodded Snape forward, growling, 'Albus, found this one outside the door. He's telling me some bloody tale about walking up the wrong stairs. I reckon he's up to no good.'

The barman then made to kick Snape in the back of his legs, but Albus had held up one hand to stay him. 'Aberforth, I know this man. He is Severus Snape, one of my recent students. He is to interview with me for the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts.'

At this revelation, Sybil had cut in indignantly, sounding extremely affronted. 'Oh I say, eavesdropping at the door to get tips for your own interview! What kind of example will you set to the students? Why Headmaster, this is really unacceptable!' In her moment of anger, she had quite forgotten to adopt her light-airy voice, and instead sounded quite anxious and shrill.

Albus looked tense as he peered closely at Snape, questioning him, 'What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet later, at Hogwarts.'

Snape had just been about to open his mouth to repeat what he had told Aberforth when Sybil interrupted with a screech.

Helpless, the three men had watched dumbfounded as her body stiffened and then went into spasms. Her eyes were now unnervingly glazed over, she threw up her hands towards and skies and intoned in that same hoarse voice:

'Across the river the raven takes wing
Upon its sign the dark lord rides
The one who is beloved shall die
The empty night echoes the raven's lament

For him who has the power to vanquish
The corvus corax's life it must relinquish
A griffin in its place remain
To end for all the dark lord's reign.'

As abruptly as she had begun, she stopped, panting. Her body relaxed, and slumped towards the ground. She would have fallen had Albus not caught her.

The silence that had followed was absolute.

Snape was stunned. His blood ran cold and chills ran down his spine, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. 'The raven,' he half whispered to himself, 'Corvus corax... the raven.' He could feel his clammy palms as he clenched and unclenched them. His stomach was doing similar contractions.

Deeply unsettled, he had half-forgotten the others' presence until Sybil, who was lying in Albus's arms, gave a twitch.

A second later, she opened her eyes, and finding herself in Albus's protective cradle, became flustered at once. 'Oh dear, oh dear me, did I faint? I'm so terribly sorry. I get these blackout spells sometimes. But ooh Headmaster, I assure you, I will be able to perform my duties!'

Albus nodded absently but otherwise kept his gaze trained on Snape, whose face had turned ghastly pale.

There was a long silence. Finally, Albus gave Severus a significant look and cleared his throat. 'Well Severus, perhaps you should make your way to your rooms now. Why don't we just meet in the morning to discuss the position?'

Turning to Sybil then, Albus went on pleasantly, 'Sybil, sorry for that interruption. Let's get back to the interview. We'll need to settle the terms for your appointment.'

He nodded at Aberforth, who stared curiously at the still pale Snape and tugged on his sleeve, dragging him away.

'You should be able to decipher the prophecy in its entirety now,' he found himself telling Aberforth. He had unconsciously emptied his mug of Firewhisky again, and was now toying absently with it.

'So you went to report to Voldemort after that.' It was a statement, not a question. There was a hint of steel in Aberforth's voice.