Unplottable

9 - Snape

Florean Fortescue was blackmailing him; there were no two ways about it. Snape felt the wrath of the helpless take hold of him each time he thought about it. To be at the mercy of the glib ice-cream salesman - a humiliation that sought its peer.

Recently he had been requested to Floo to Fortescue's London shop rather often: Fortescue was the 'information manager' of the infamous League, so keeping in touch with him was undoubtedly important. The radical organisation had a well-organised web of spies and observers, of communication technology and of divination experts. If you wanted information of any kind, the League was the place to start asking - if you could convince them that your aims and their aims were the same, and that in helping you, the League would promote their own goals as well.

There was a number of things Dumbledore wanted to know which coincided with minor or major interests of the League. In return for trust and cooperation, Fortescue was willing to share certain facts that had been dug up by League informants. For both Dumbledore's order and the League, a major topic of interest was, of course, anything that had to do with the Death Eaters' plans and activities. To everybody's great disadvantage, neither the League nor Dumbledore had any spies among the followers of Voldemort. Of course, only an utter fool would ever voluntarily take such a tremendous risk, Snape contemplated as he fiddled with his newly purchased, larger headphones - for example a nineteen-year-old dupe whose ratio had been crippled with shame, regret and, why not face the facts, with the confusion that accompanied carnal desires. These days, of course, had long passed; Snape prided himself of having learned a thing or two since then - and so had Voldemort, who knew about Snape's treachery. As much as the order and the League needed a spy among the Death Eaters, he could never go back to Voldemort again. While Snape certainly did not flatter himself by thinking he would be on top of Voldemort's 'slowly torture to death' list, he was sure that along with Dumbledore, the blasted Potter boy and the President of the League, he had at least made the top ten.

No, Florean had agreed with Snape on yesterday's meeting - Snape was off the spy game for good. As the conversion of another Death Eater was hardly likely, they urgently had to find someone else who would become a Death Eater just to be a spy. But who, Snape wondered, would be brave - nay, foolhardy - enough to undertake such a dangerous mission? Wasn't there some young, unimportant, not overly bright, but nevertheless talented little liar among the pawns of the League? Florean had answered in the negative, sounding less than pleased with Snape's attitude. The League did not sacrifice their young for such deadly missions, even if a fanatic could be found who would be willing to undertake the task, he had replied rather pointedly. However, meeting with Florean was not a complete waste of time: At least some League spies seemed to be on a hot trace regarding others that Dumbledore wanted. Peter Pettigrew, Florean had said, was rumoured not only to be alive and spying, but also to have been sighted at Durmstrang. They would find him, Florean had promised; Sirius Black would soon be cleared. Snape couldn't have cared less.

After the two wizards had finished talking business, Fortescue had started blackmailing Snape once more. "I've got some more CDs which I'm sure you'll like," he'd said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. And of course, gullible and meek as he was, Snape would buy. What else could he do?

His first impulse purchase at Florean's little magic CD shop had put him at the salesman's mercy: Fool that he was, Snape had let him on that he was interested in the music his colleague's band, The Magic Mushrooms. At his next visit, Florean had guiled Snape with another, older CD of Valerie's band; when Snape had betrayed interest, Fortescue had piled the lot on the counter: The Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead, Blur, the second Portishead album (Snape had already owned the first one), Björk, Tori Amos - there was no end in sight. When Snape had reacted less than enthusiastically, Florean had insinuated that perhaps Snape was only interested in The Magic Mushrooms after all? Snape had swallowed a heated reply. He would not let on that he was not exactly indifferent to his colleague, Professor Varlerta. There was no telling in what the 'information manager' of the League might do with this particular piece of information, but Snape was reluctant to find out. To avoid this, he had bought the CDs Florean had recommended to him. He should have known that would not be the end of it.

Next time it was Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, L7, the Gathering, the Butthole Surfers and a rather peculiar album of Lucullus and the Death Eaters. Snape had bought. Fortescue had sold him Fugazi and Sonic Youth, had sold him PJ Harvey, had sold him Tool, had sold him Babes in Toyland as a special recommendation. To treat his special customer, he had taken to owling the Potions Master of Hogwarts the NME from time to time. It was driving Snape around the bends.

There was no question of just throwing his purchases away, of course; despite their outward display of affluence, Sir and Lady Snape had taught their son to be stingy at heart. Buying something and not using it afterwards was unthinkable to Snape, so he took care to listen to all of the CDs he had been forced to buy and even to read that dratted Muggle music paper, the New Musical Express. At least now he was getting a say in what kind of music he was buying, he contemplated. "I draw the line at Stoner Rock, Florean," he had said through gritted teeth at yesterday's meeting, and to his surprise, Florean had put the old Kyuss and Monstermagnet CDs back into their shelves.

Even though he could not say that he liked the music he was forced to listen to straight away, he had to admit he was gradually becoming attached to some of it. This, of course, was a weakness he would stamp out again if he ever got around to it. As it was, he kept the portable, magic-powered CD-player, newly equipped with proper headphones, on the table next to his narrow cot. After all, listening to music was a measure of self-defence: There was this song in his head, and it was driving him crazy!

Students of all four houses appeared to have united against him, plotting to destroy his sanity by humming this song. Hengert, the good-for-nothing Ravenclaw with the silly hair, was humming it; so were all his worthless team mates, except for their sad-looking Seeker. A couple of Slytherin fourth-years had hummed the song yesterday in the dungeon hallway, among them a shy girl called Kay whose clear voice was hardly ever heard under normal circumstances. The Hufflepuffs were humming the tune now and then, more slowly and with less passion than suited the song, but humming it nevertheless. Celps, another half-witted Quidditch player, was whistling it. Worst of all, he had caught Ginny Weasley singing the song repeatedly, singing it complete with its lyrics, for Merlin's sake!

So far, Snape had tacitly permitted the youngest (and hopefully last) Weasley offspring to hum during his class, as he had observed that her Potion making performance underwent a significant improvement if she was humming while stirring. He had even contemplated suggesting her as a candidate for a NEWT in Potions, something he rarely considered with Gryffindors unless they had wormed their slimy way to the top of his class (where undoubtedly they did not belong). However, Snape thought, he would never assist Ginny on her way to an advanced mastery of his noble art if she did not stop singing that song at once! He would shake her, he would duck her headfirst into her cauldron to shut her up, he would ... - Snape put the headphones on his ears, thinking that the end of civilisation must be near if the students were humming the same songs as the teachers. He did not want them to like his music, to own shares in a song that seemed to speak of him, of him only.

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so fuckin' special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

A knock on the door intruded into the enclosed space the music was providing for his bittersweet thoughts. Snape took off the headphones and hid the CD-player under his pillow. "Come in," he said a little later than would have sounded normal. The door opened with an apprehensive shiver; behind it, the trace of a large, red nose and bulging, tearful eyes appeared - a house-elf, naturally.

"Professor Snape," Winky whispered. "I is regretting so much, sir, that I is intruding, sir, and I is apologising a thousand times, sir, for I is required to tell you, sir, that Professor Dumbledore, the honourable Professor Dumbledore, has requested to see you, sir." As usual, her voice was barely audible even in the silent dungeon; since she had overcome her embarrassing little Butterbeer problem, she was doing her best to make everybody forget her former, scandalous behaviour. As a house servant, she was so devoted that even Snape, used as he was to the obnoxious little creatures, found her a trial.

"I am coming, Winky," he snarled and rose from his cot to follow her to Dumbledore's office. On his way, he wondered what the Headmaster could want from him at this time of the night; since he had been hurt by the Icy Fingers curse, Dumbledore had made a habit of retiring early. It must be something important, he decided and squared his shoulders.

It was important, it seemed - in his office, Dumbledore was conducting a heated discussion with Cornelius Fudge. Before Snape could make out what the two of them were talking about, Fudge saw him and stopped short in mid-sentence. "Ah, Professor Snape. How nice to see you here," he said in a tone that barely concealed how little indeed he was pleased to see Snape.

"Severus, come and sit down with us," Dumbledore addressed him. "We have to sort out a few important things. I believe you will be able to help us with that."

"Glad to be of assistance," Snape said icily and gave Fudge the evil eye. Ever since the pompous, useless little wizard had denied him the Order of Merlin, Snape had felt an intense dislike for him, a feeling he believed was heartily reciprocated.

"Er... Albus, I do not believe it was necessary to disturb Professor Snape's well-deserved rest," Fudge said, his eyes anywhere but on Snape. "I believe we can sort things out among the two of us."

"Severus is best acquainted with the problem at hand. This is why I asked him to join us," Dumbledore said softly, hiding a sharp edge in the blanket of his politeness. Then he turned to Snape: "Cornelius has come to Hogwarts to acknowledge the fact that Voldemort has risen again, and give as well as receive counsel about what we should do next."

Snape bit his tongue and merely nodded; it wouldn't do to blurt out that if Fudge had faced the facts about fifteen months ago, many deaths and much damage might have been prevented.

"Horrible as it is, it seems that the magical public is terrorised by attacks of Death Eaters," Fudge said as if he was announcing anything new. "At troubled times like these, we will have to stick together and help each other. This is why I am here."

Snape could hardly believe it - was Fudge finally coming to his senses? He and Dumbledore shared a look. "Azkaban," Snape mouthed noiselessly and with a minimum of lip movement. Dumbledore lowered his eyelids in place of a nod. Snape looked over to Fudge, unsure of how to break the issue to him. However, he needn't have worried - Fudge came to the point straight away.

"Albus insists that the Death Eaters imprisoned in Azkaban pose a threat, as do the Dementors working as Azkaban prison wards. He believes that the Dementors should be released from their job, and that certain prisoners should be kept safe elsewhere. I do admit that this solution seems a bit drastic to me, if not to say impracticable; the magical public would not be happy with such a course action. However, Albus tells me that one of his main concerns is the prisoner Dolores Lestrange; he believes the Death Eaters might attempt to free her. He also tells me that you have been meeting with her, Severus. While I do not approve of such things, especially if they are done behind my back, I would still like to hear from you in what condition you find Dolores Lestrange, and what you believe we should do with her."

Snape exhaled deeply and then inhaled very, very slowly to keep his pulse from speeding up. "I have indeed met her, and I believe her to be what the Muggles call a ticking bomb," he said as calmly as he could. It was essential that he convinced Fudge of his belief now. He might never get another chance. "Dolores Lestrange was once the leader of the Death Eaters; the Dark Lord trusted her above anyone else." Convincing Fudge was so essential, indeed, that Snape even took care to spare his feelings by avoiding the name 'Voldemort.' "I believe that she holds crucial information about the immortality of the Dark Lord, even though this information is presently inaccessible to us due to a self-inflicted memory charm. Because of this, she is not only important to the Dark Lord, but also a potential threat. I wonder indeed why he has not overrun the prison of Azkaban to free her and others yet, but I believe he will do so as soon as he can."

Fudge sighed in response, as if Snape had been reporting of a nuisance, not of a major threat. "It is sad, indeed, that the descendant of such a noble family has come to such a scandalous end," he said, referring to Dolores Lestrange. "What would you have me do about her, then?"

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged glances. The obvious solution to the problem was to imprison her at Hogwarts, though it was a solution that Snape greatly feared. This fear did not arise from an increased threat of attacks - Voldemort's desire to overrun Hogwarts was probably already as large as it could be, so it could hardly increase much. Neither did Snape believe the prisoner would be able to attack teachers or students; she was only a shade of her former self, and there were a number of spells that could be used to keep her in check. No, what Snape feared most, though he would have never openly admitted it, was himself. He could see in Dumbledore's eyes that the headmaster knew this; he could see the question in his eyes, so he nodded almost imperceptibly. It would be alright, he would be able to cope - he was no longer nineteen, Snape believed, or rather, he hoped.

"Give her to us, we will keep her safe here," Dumbledore said to Fudge.

"This is outrageous, Albus, almost as outrageous as removing the Dementors from the prison," Fudge blubbered. "The press would tear me to pieces. I would have to deal with a never-ending pile of Dementor bureaucracy. You do not simply remove a high-security prisoner and give her to someone, you know, Albus."

"While I acknowledge your well-justified dread of Dementor bureaucracy, I do wish to remind you that it is all our lives and safety which are at stake here, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied gently. For all his physical vulnerability, the spirit of the old headmaster had not lost its steely edge, Snape realised with pride.

Fudge sighed. "I will do my best, I will certainly try. But, Albus - and I must ask you to excuse this, Snape - Albus, there are things you will have to do for me in return."

For some reason, Snape felt his hair stand on end. He lowered his head so it would not show. "Which things, Cornelius?" he heard Dumbledore ask.

Fudge sighed. "As you know, Albus, we are living in difficult times. People are afraid - parents are afraid. They are concerned by the threat of You-Know-Who, by the deaths that occurred. Now they worry about their children. Again and again I get owls from parents asking me why I permit teachers at Hogwarts who some parents do not consider completely trustworthy."

It took Snape only a fraction of a second to understand. Fudge was proposing Dumbledore a deal which he, Snape, would have to fulfil. In exchange for the safety of Dolores Lestrange, he was asked to vacate his post, to leave Hogwarts.

"Cornelius, please remember that this has always been the case," Dumbledore replied meekly. "There hasn't been a week during the last twenty years when I have not been asked to step down by some parent or school governor; the same goes for most of the teachers of Hogwarts. None of us is universally popular. If you are talking about being trustworthy, however, I can assure you, and you can assure the press and the public, that all the teachers of this school are entirely loyal to me in their opposition towards Lord Voldemort."

Fudge flinched. "Please, Albus," he almost whined in response to the uttered name. "I am not questioning the loyalty of your followers. I am only trying to run the ministry in very difficult times. As I said, parents worry - they remember the past, and they draw their conclusions from it." He made a point of not looking at Snape.

"Severus Snape spied on the enemy, as you well know," Dumbledore replied, coming to the point which Fudge was avoiding. "He is no more a Death Eater than me or you, and I trust him. He will not betray us, I assure you." With a surge of relief, Snape saw that the headmaster was angry. For a second, he had feared that Dumbledore had already agreed to the deal Fudge was proposing, and had invited Snape to his office to break the news less than gently. In his case, Snape might have done so - they so desperately needed to keep Dolores Lestrange safe!

"I believe you, Albus," Fudge said unhappily, "but please think of the bad press we might harvest! When I say that parents are worried, I am not only thinking of betrayal. Please do not take this personally, Professor Snape - I personally believe in your absolute integrity. But you do understand that parents, especially the parents of girls -"

He did not finish his sentence, leaving Snape to infer its meaning from the context. And oh, his anger was colossal! He would not do Fudge the favour of relieving him from his task of spelling things out. "No, I do not understand," he said, which was a blatant lie. "Please tell me, Minister, what about me and the parents of girls?"

Fudge was visibly ill at ease, but not half as ill as ease as Snape wished him to be. "Well, considering your past, you know, what they do, parents might believe - might fear -"

A sudden weariness overcame Snape; he did not want to play these power games any longer. "If you think I am not safe because as a former Death Eater I am raping my female students, or rather, that after teaching at this school for sixteen years, I have suddenly become unsafe, returned to old raping habits, so to say, just because Lord Voldemort has risen again, why don't you spell it out, Minister?"

Fudge managed to blush and to cast his eyes down on the shiny surface of Dumbledore's desk. "I am thinking no such thing, Professor Snape, but I'm sure you will understand - parents do worry about these things. But as a matter of fact, they are not only worried about you. Currently, I hear a lot of rumours about these school, and I do admit that I am less than pleased. There is that half-giant, of course - I have received a number of owls regarding him. Then there is your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher - I know it sounds preposterous, but people say -" his voice fell to a whisper, "people say she is the daughter of the enemy." He raised his eyebrows, waiting for denials, which never came.

"You will not believe what people say about this school," Fudge said with a little, false laugh. "They believe you are harbouring fugitives, a whole camp of League members, that werewolf that used to teach here, a murderous hippogriff and even - can you believe it? - Sirius Black."

Fudge looked up at Dumbledore. The headmaster held his gaze until Fudge lowered his. "How can you let our honourable school become such a - den?" the Minister asked mournfully. "How can I cooperate with you if you break all our laws? Even you are not a law unto yourself. You may have been head of this school for a long time, but you are not above the law, Dumbledore."

"What will we do if Hogwarts falls?" Dumbledore asked. "What will you do, what will all your whining parents do, Cornelius? Yes, it may be true - maybe I am harbouring some of the people you mentioned. If this is the case, it is because I believe them to be completely trustworthy, and because they are working for the safety of this school. You may be aware that the enemy craves to destroy this place, with or without the fugitives, with or without me. I, and maybe some of the people you mentioned, are working hard to prevent this. We do what we can to protect this school. If you replaced me with someone more to your liking, are you sure he or she would be able to do the same?"

Fudge had paled. "I do not want to replace you, Dumbledore," he replied hastily. "Goodness knows that we need you. All I am asking is that you cleanse this school of all those who should not be here, fugitives as well as some of those you made teachers. If you do this, we can cooperate in our fight against the supporters of You-Know-Who. I will even be able to do what you wish in a few matters, for example regarding Dolores Lestrange."

"Of course, the parents would not mind at all to have her stashed away at Hogwarts," Snape murmured under his breath. He could not believe he was witnessing this conversation. Not only did Fudge prove to be even more contemptible than Snape had so far thought him. No, this was about him, about Snape's future. What would he do if he lost his post as a teacher? Where could he go, what would he do with his life? Where could he hide from the supporters of Voldemort? 'Cleanse' the school of him would mean little less than a death sentence to him, and he was sure that Fudge knew this. Others might not fare quite as badly, but not exactly well either: Hagrid might be safe if he hid among the giants (if his overlarge relative did not accidentally step on him); Valerie could probably go back to New York, but what about Black, for example? As much as Snape hated him, handing him over to Fudge was against the honour of the school. Last but not least, where else would all the League members and their children hide?

"Please, be sensible, Dumbledore," Fudge said, casting an apologising look at Snape. "We need to cooperate, you said it yourself. If you do your side of the deal, I will do what you asked me to do - I will establish contact with the Committee of non-human magical creatures, as you suggested, I will draw up a supervision table for the Dementor guards of Azkaban, and I will suggest talks with members of the notorious League, if you insist."

"All these are very good ideas of which I approve, as you know," Dumbledore said quietly, "but I would like to remind you, Cornelius, that we have not struck a deal yet, so there can be no question of fulfilling my side of it. All my work here at Hogwarts is directed at two aims - to make this school worthy of its old and great name, and to fight Voldemort. While the first task is mine to supervise, the second is not - it is a task for all of us. As the Minister of Magic, you should see fighting Voldemort as your special task, instead of pretending that by doing your duty as the elected head of Britain's magical community, you are doing me a personal favour for which I owe you. I do not, I assure you: All I am doing at this school is protecting the enemies of our common enemy, facilitating communication between those who have to combine their efforts to fight Voldemort, and protecting this school against Voldemort's imminent threat. I warn you not to interfere with the tasks I have set for myself, Cornelius - you would regret it, and in the end, all of us would."

In spite of Dumbledore's calm and quiet voice, Snape felt a shiver run down his spine. It seemed that even though the headmaster generally acknowledged Fudge as the Minister, the power to lead, the power to command and even the power to punish rested with Dumbledore, not with Fudge. Kind as the ancient wizard was, his aura of power promised not only protection, but contained a threat at the same time; having Dumbledore for an enemy must be terrible indeed. While Fudge spluttered a semi-apologetical, but after all meaningless sequence of words, Snape's thoughts escaped his control and strayed to Dumbledore's son, to Evnissyen, a traitor who let Snape's own past pale in comparison. If those two, if father and son were ever to meet again - always supposing that Evnissyen was still alive - would Dumbledore raise his wand and punish his son with the same calmness he was using now to reduce Fudge to his position?

"You should have done these things more than a year ago when their necessity became obvious, Cornelius," the headmaster said in a passionless voice. "You should have lent me your support, instead of hiding behind your office like a coward who is more afraid of losing his position than of leading the world into an abyss. Now that you are finally acknowledging the writing on the wall, you are trying to blackmail me, it seems. Again, your priority is not saving as many people - magical and non-magical - as you can, but rather, preserving your professional reputation for the brief period of time where such things will still matter. I am warning you, Fudge: Whoever is walking through this country with both eyes open is no longer your follower. You may be the Minister, but one day you will find yourself the leader of the cowards and the near-sighted only. Your office will become utterly meaningless soon if you do not cooperate with me."

"It is you who refuses cooperation," Fudge replied in a choked voice. "You want me to submit to your dominance, to serve you."

"I want you to do what is right," Dumbledore answered. "I want to fight Voldemort, and I protect all those who I deem worthy and in need of my protection. They will fight alongside with me, and like me, they have personal reasons to bring down Voldemort for good this time. I do not believe they will ever betray me, and I will certainly not betray their trust by throwing them out into danger just because you tell me so."

Snape felt almost sick with relief and gratitude. He suppressed the urge to sink down onto his knees and thank the headmaster: He would not be relieved off his post, then - a disputable decision of Dumbledore's, given the fact that there appeared to be parents about worrying whether as a former Death eater he was abusing their daughters. Snape promised himself that he would thank Dumbledore by toeing the line from now on; never again would he permit his temper to trouble the old headmaster, whatever happened, even if docile obedience killed him. The walls of this castle, which once had seemed like the walls of his personal prison, were now the walls of his sanctuary. Dumbledore would let him stay here.

"I advise you to take another look at me and my motives before you accuse me of seeking dominance," Dumbledore told Fudge quietly. "Power and leadership are nothing to me; neither is social status. Look at me; I am old and weary, and for whatever days are still ahead of me, I have little left to gain - except maybe the certainty that I have done my utmost to correct my old mistakes, that this time, I have not failed the people and the world I love. Remember that twenty years ago, the Ministry decided that Hogwarts must not be a sanctuary for those in need of protection. I bent this rule a few times by taking on somebody as teacher." His eyes strayed to Snape, who did his utmost not to blush. Dumbledore continued:

"I have thought over this old decision many, many times. Last year, I have spent many sleepless nights turning it over and over in my head. Once I agreed with it: Our children, our future must not be endangered any more than they already are. Now I think that this decision was just plainly wrong. Whatever risk all my refugees mean to my students, we all have to take it, because victory can only be achieved if we are united. Look at the lives lost last time you advised me against taking on refugees. Now tell me again you will tie your willingness to take adequate measures against Voldemort to my willingness to cast out those whose lives depend on this hiding place. Will you not change your mind, Cornelius, and consent to work with me without demanding the impossible of me?"

At least, Fudge had the decency of staring down at his brightly polished shoes, Snape thought. The lives lost last time - Dumbledore was not only talking about the Potters, who had been hidden by the Fidelius charm instead of finding shelter at Hogwarts: He was also talking about his own family. In spite of Evnissyen's treachery, the Death Eaters would have never been able to get to them had they been sheltered inside the castle.

Snape tried to ban Evnissyen's face from his thoughts, but failed. These last few weeks he had been haunted by Dumbledore's remark that he might forgive his son if Evnissyen asked for forgiveness. It went beyond Snape's comprehension. How could anyone even contemplate forgiving such a deed? How could Dumbledore rise each morning and do his work, do it better than anyone else, how could he still be kind, gentle, even forgiving if such infinite sorrow lived on in him? How, Snape wondered, could it be that this sorrow had never turned into hatred, into that destructible emotion which wanted nothing but to hurt everyone and everything, the emotion which Snape himself knew so well?

Of course, nobody could experience such sorrow and remain unscathed: For a few years, Dumbledore had been a mere shadow of himself, had failed some of his students who had consequently followed their affinity to the Dark Side (Snape, for example) and had failed some of his friends, who had consequently died (the Potters, for example). Snape was sure that on top of everything else, the headmaster was blaming himself for these mistakes. Never, however, had Dumbledore let his grief turn into bitterness, never had he entirely given up, never had he been anything but a shield and a support to his friends and followers. Infinitely shamed by comparison, Snape still could feel nothing but admiration for the headmaster.

Dumbledore never talked about the loss of his entire family, but of course, the twenty years that had passed since that night of horror could not have brought healing to a wound so deep: His son had lead his fellow Death Eaters to take Dumbledore hostage and had failed. In his father's absence, Evnissyen had taken revenge on his own mother, his two sisters, his brothers-in-law and his nieces and nephews, toddlers who would be grown witches and wizards today if they had survived that night. Snape shuddered and re-directed his attention to the conversation between Fudge and Dumbledore, because some thoughts were just too horrible to keep them in the brain for too long.

"I do not want you as an enemy, Albus," Fudge said at last, displaying at least a shred of intelligence, Snape thought. "I believe that cooperation between the two of us is crucial, and I would certainly welcome you as my advisor again. However, please remember that I cannot permit you to run this school however you please."

"You can have my advice, and your support, whenever you need it, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied calmly. "But please remember that when it comes down to it, I do not need your permission to run this school."