Fade to Black

Chapter II: Shadows

"Purgo!"

The Mark remained just as vivid as before.

"Clarissimus!" Snape tried again to erase the skull and snake painted on the wall, but though the grey stones around were almost sparkling from the magical scrubbing, the Dark Mark had not faded even a little. The class had clustered into frightened little groups, whispering and shuddering, staying close to one another as if together, they could keep away the darkness that the Mark implied.

"Who did this?" Snape asked in a dangerously quiet voice. Every student looked at him, but not one responded. He began to prowl about the room looking for a guilty face, a paint-stained hand...anything to indicate who the culprit may be. But there was nothing but a uniform feeling of shock and fear among the children. If the miscreant was in this class, he was an impeccable actor. Severus lashed them all with his icy glare.

"When I find out who our vandal is, I'll see that person expelled faster than you can snap a wand." he snarled.

It would be impossible to teach with the class in this terror-filled state; the students wouldn't hear a word he said with that Mark behind him. And Snape himself wasn't thrilled with the notion of spending the day with the Dark Mark staring accusingly at his back.

Severus sighed in frustrated anger. "Class is cancelled until that" he jerked his chin in the direction of the Mark, "has been cleaned up." The students slowly broke away from their flocks and numbly packed away their things. As they prepared to file out the door, Snape spoke loudly over the rustle of scrolls and quills being stuffed into bags. "But just because class is cancelled doesn't mean you get to laze around your common rooms. I expect a two foot essay on the origins of newt bile-based potions tomorrow."

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws left the room not with the delight that a cancelled potions class usually received, but silent relief.

When all the students had left, Snape turned to the Dark Mark that was emblazoned on his wall and stared at it, following every contour and line as his hand unconsciously drifted to rest over his left forearm.

* * *

"Who do you think did it?" Olivia asked, walking down the corridor to the Hufflepuff common room with John and Ian, who stood between the two as a buffer, just in case his friends decided to have a rematch of last night's argument.

John Price shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe some Slytherin thought it'd be a funny joke."

"Slytherins aren't the only ones with a twisted sense of humour, isn't that right Ian." she looked at Ian half-accusingly.

"Don't go jumping to conclusions, now," Ian said defensively. "I didn't do it. Painting the Dark Mark on a classroom wall is definitely not funny. Even to me."

"You don't think it could have been a...a Death Eater, do you?" Olivia whispered. John paled at the suggestion and even Ian seemed a little unsure as he answered.

"I don't think a Death Eater would mark a classroom like that. It just doesn't make sense. Besides, I'm sure Dumbledore can keep any Death Eater out of the school."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," John muttered.

"Oh, come on!" Olivia snapped impatiently. "You aren't still on about Snape, are you?"

"Do you honestly think it was coincidence that the Dark Mark was in Snape's classroom."

"John," Ian warned, "Let it go. You already got into deep trouble once."

"No! I can't just 'let it go'." John was visibly becoming more agitated and his voice cracked. "There's a Death Eater roaming freely here and no one seems to care. Has everyone just forgotten how many people they killed! They killed them! They killed them and then they laughed about it! Snape is one of them, I know it!"

"John," Olivia said, looking about her nervously at the passing students for loiterers. "You're making a scene. People are going to start staring."

"I don't give a damn if they stare!" John's voice was rising and his fingers curled into tight fists. And indeed, now students were starting to slow their stride to look at John Price, psycho Hufflepuff.

"Calm down," Ian attempted to soothe the rising tempers. "The last thing I want is to have to hex you senseless to keep you from killing each other."

"But John's acting like a nutter again." Olivia protested.

"You're the nutter," John retorted. "To not see what right under your big ugly nose!"

Blood rushed to Olivia's face as she reddened with anger. "How dare you!" She whipped her wand out of her robes and John swiftly followed.

Ian's own wand came out just as the two began hurling their first hexes.

"Serpencapilo!"

"Nasrobus!"

Olivia's hair promptly turned into a squirming mass of snakes like a round and rosy faced Medusa. She started shrieking wildly when a forked tongue flickered in her face. She was terrified of reptiles. John, meanwhile, acquired a bright red nose swollen to the size of his fist. As more curses came spitting from their mouths, Ian raised his own wand and joined in the fray. Professor McGonagall chose just that time to come around the corner. Her mouth thinned into a stern line and her eyes flashed at the chaos that was being perpetrated in the middle of the hall.

"Finite Incanatem!" All the hexes that had been thrown vanished under McGonagall's more powerful spell. John and Olivia ceased duelling and cast their eyes to the ground with guilt of being caught in the act. Ian, more brave (or stupid) than his fellows, cast one last little hex at the two. McGonagall's mouth, if possible, tightened in even further disapproval. "Accio wand!" and Ian's wand flew into her hand, but not before his classmates robes were turned a traffic-stopping shade of florescent yellow.

"Mister Maughan!" McGonagall snapped. "Miss Whitney, Mister Price," McGonagall walked towards them, each step clicking on the stone floor like the tick of a time bomb. "You should be ashamed! Duelling in the hallways! Have you anything to say for yourselves!"

"No, Professor," the three muttered.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff for you, Whitney and Price, for fighting and thirty points for Maughan, for both the fight itself and failing to desist. And a detention for all three of you!" McGonagall gave all the lingering children a stern look and the students who had stopped to watch the altercation suddenly remembered somewhere else they should be, and hurried away. "See Mister Filch tonight to arrange detention."

"Yes, Professor," Ian said, speaking for all three.

"Good. Now hurry to class. And no more antics." McGonagall's look was enough to discourage any further conversation so the three Hufflepuffs quickly walked past the professor and sped, silently, to their common room.

* * *

After supper, Ian, John and Olivia trudged to Filch's office. Or, at least, John and Olivia trudged. Ian skipped down the corridor as if he were walking to Hogsmeade to play, rather than heading towards the worst punishment Filch could think up.

"Cheer up, guys, it's only detention." Olivia and John glared at their over-chipper friend. "I've had tons of them."

John snorted. "Of course you would've. Not everyone likes getting into trouble."

"My chances of being prefect next year are ruined!" Olivia bemoaned.

"Aw, don't worry, Livi," Ian said, "One detention isn't going to kill you. Or your hopes of being a prefect."

Olivia said nothing, but just pouted at Ian.

Shortly, they arrived at Filch's office, and rapped on the door. They heard heavy footsteps in the room beyond and then the door was flung open. Filch glared down at them.

"What do you want?" he said in a belligerent whine. Miss Norris weaved in and out around his legs and stared at the Hufflepuff trio with lantern eyes.

"We're here for detention, sir," Ian replied calmly.

"Ah, detention," Filch's eyes brightened noticeably at the prospect of imposing punishment. "I have just the thing for you, a punishment recommended by Severus." He ducked back into his office quickly.

"Oh no," John whispered.

Filch reappeared with three buckets and a scrub for each of them. "Go clean the vandalism in the Potions room. You're not to leave until every speck of paint is gone." Filch chuckled wickedly. He turned away, dismissing them. Closing the door, he muttered under his breath, "More generous than children like that deserve...don't you agree, Miss Norris?" And then the door latched shut leaving three Hufflepuffs, armed with buckets and sponges out in the hallway with orders to scour the Dark Mark from Snape's own lair. John summarised their feelings with a groan.

"I hate this."

The dungeons were dark and more frightening at night than the harmless corridors of bustling students that they remembered during the day. The air was perfectly still, and filled with the cacophony of unreal silence. In the night, every room became a mausoleum and every breath became a scream. They crept to the Potions room in a huddle, like herd of deer believing that strength in numbers will keep them safe from predators. Even Ian's usually irrepressible cockiness had vanished in the shadows.

They knocked lightly on the door, almost afraid to break the stillness of the air. The door swung open revealing a shadow even darker than the rest, a shadow with a face: Snape's. He looked down at them without saying a word. John began to shudder uncontrollably and it took Ian's steadying hand to keep his knees from collapsing under him.

"We're here for detention, Professor," Olivia whispered, holding the bucket before her as if to prove the truth of her words and shield herself with that truth.

The door opened wider to allow the three students to slip inside. The Dark Mark gazed down at them and seemed larger, more powerful in the dim light. It almost appeared to sneer at them. John looked up to see that same sneer mirrored on Snape's face. He shuddered again and wished he the power to erase that sneer of his countenance, just as the Auror's had erased the sneers of the Death Eaters that killed his parents. They did not sneer at Death when He came for them. Their sneers were gone forever...but so were his parents.

"I expect you to scrub every bit of paint off this wall," Snape spoke softly, but as condescending as always. "Not a fleck of paint should remain when you're done." He turned and with a hawk-like swoop, he scooped some papers off his desk and swept into his office leaving behind three Hufflepuffs, the Dark Mark, and the night.

When Ian broke the nervous silence, both Olivia and John jumped in surprise. "Well, unless we want to be here all night, we'd better get started," Ian said, magically filling his bucket with suds and water. Olivia followed suit, but John remained still, staring at the Mark like one lost in a nightmare with the occasional shudder, a glissando of fear, coursing down his body.

"Oy, John!" Ian said sharply to break John Price out of his reverie. He did not succeed.

"Johnny," Olivia called, waving one hand over his vacant eyes. Still, John did not respond. "John!" she shouted, hitting him in the shoulder.

"Ow! What!"

"Quit spacing! We've got work to do!"

John looked about the room blankly like a sleeper waking from a particularly unreal dream. His eyes fixed again on the Dark Mark.

"John," Ian murmured. "Try to forget it while we get it cleaned off." John gave a small, timid nod. "Alright then." He plunged the sponge into the water and began to scrub away at the black paint.

Hours later, they gave up on soap and water and found some old knives, too bent or rusted to slice potion ingredients, and resorted to scraping, scratching or chiseling the paint off instead. Around midnight, Snape emerged from his office, glanced at the students, turned away, then looked at them again, as if he didn't trust weary eyes to show him the truth.

"You're still here?" he snarled. "You should have been done hours ago." His ink black eyes narrowed. "Unless you spent more time goofing off than working."

"No, professor," Olivia answered boldly. "We haven't been goofing around. The paint's really hard to get off."

"We're almost done," Ian added. "Only a few more inches of snake to go."

"Finish quickly," he ordered them irritably. "I want to lock up this room soon."

"Yes, Professor."

The Hufflepuffs worked as hard as only a focused Hufflepuff can, cleaning the wall as quickly as possible. Half an hour, one impatient Snape and three tired Hufflepuffs later, the stone was back to its inglorious but safe grey. Professor Snape dismissed them with a sneer, and locked the classroom door while the three students dragged themselves towards the Hufflepuff tower.

Ian mumbled the password.

"What was that, sir?" the painting guarding the entrance, a man in an Elizabethan doublet and tights asked.

"I said Busy Badgers! Now let us in you pantyhose-wearing git!"

"Humph! No need to be so rude." The painting swung open letting them in. Olivia parted from the boys' company without a word, stumbling toward the girls' dormitory. Ian and John trudged up the stairs to the room they shared with two other Hufflepuff boys.

Their dorm mates were fast asleep when they arrived, and Ian soon joined them as he crawled into bed not even bothering to remove his robes. Thus, no one was awake to notice John slipping back out of the room and leaving Hufflepuff tower.

* * *

John Price crept through the passages of Hogwarts, careful to avoid Filch or his horrible accomplice, Miss Norris. When he found his way outside, he snatched one of the school brooms locked away in a shed for flying lessons. The lock was simple enough to get around, and within moments, John was flying to Hogsmeade.

He landed near a small stone house on the outskirts of the town. A light was shining from a single window, like the gaze of a one-eyed man. The occupant was still awake. John set his broom down just inside the garden gate and walked to the door. He knocked hesitatingly, and waited.

Within a few seconds, the door opened, silhouetting a large figure with broad shoulders dressed in dark blue robes.

"I was wondering what was keeping you, John," the person said in a deep, even voice.

"I had detention. I had to clean it off the wall."

The man in the doorway nodded, not needing to ask what "it" was. "Come in, John, no need to stand out in the dark."

"Thank you, sir."

John was led into a pretty, but rather spartan sitting room. It had the air of a show house, nice enough, but not really lived in. John sat in an easy chair by the sparkling clean hearth and politely accepted a cup of tea from his host.

"So, did the Mark cause a stir?" he asked.

John nodded. "The whole school was terrified. And I can't blame them. Even knowing, every time I saw it I--" He broke off, unwilling or unable to say more.

"I understand, John," he replied softly, comfortingly. "And I thank you for what you did, I know it must have been hard for you. But thanks to "suspicious activity" occurring, I am within my authority to conduct an investigation. You know that Snape's hiding crimes and I know it, too. I'm certain I'll find something in a search of his rooms."

"What if you don't?" John asked softly, like a child afraid of the monsters under his bed.

"If I don't, we'll find another way to get the Death Eater."

John nodded, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Don't let your fear make you back out on me, John," he said with a hint of a warning in his voice. "I may need your help. Remember, he's the same kind of scum that killed your parents. Don't let them down. Don't let cowardice get in the way of revenge."

"I won't," John replied, his loyalty to his family stronger than his fear. John set the untouched tea down on a table and rose to leave.

"One thing before you go, John."

John turned to him curiously.

"I have something for you. Files from the Ministry. Snape's trial, his records, his confession...all were kept confidential. They said it was for security reasons, that they were afraid that if the knowledge were public, the Death Eaters still at large might try to get rid of him if they knew he'd ratted on them. But the real reason is that they were ashamed of the deal they made with a Death Eater. They knew that every decent wizard would protest, and rightly so.

"I have a copy of Snape's file. I want you to read it. 'Know thine enemy' as the Muggles say." The man handed a folder full of papers over to John.

"Th-Thank you," John replied, confused, and not quite sure what to say.

"Go on, now. It's late and you should get back to Hogwarts. You wouldn't want to fall asleep in your classes tomorrow."

John left and raced back to Hogwarts, eager to return to his room. He sneaked though the hallways undetected for the second time that night and entered his room quietly so as not to disturb his roommates. He changed into his nightclothes and lay down in his bed. But his thoughts were racing still and he couldn't fall asleep. The temptation of knowledge had him in its grip, and before long he snatched the file he'd been given from his trunk, and retrieved his wand from the headstand.

"Lumos," he whispered. He gingerly opened the folder as if afraid of what might be waiting for him inside. And by the light of his wand, he began to read.