Fade to Black

Chapter III: Secrets

It was some hours past midnight and no one stirred in the Hufflepuff tower. A few cats paced the floors searching for mice and every so often a frog let out a soft "urrach-urrach". The floorboards creaked just as ancient buildings always do--like a tired old man moaning as he settles himself into his favorite chair. And John Price, feeling more alert than he'd ever felt before, sat curled on top of his bedcovers with a glowing wand in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore walked through the dark halls of Azkaban. Here, even Albus' eyes could not retain their sparkle. Tall, black-shrouded Dementors passed by trailing with them a bitter chill and the sharp scent of death. Albus had to fight his deepest instinct to destroy the foul things each time one passed by. Evil, inhuman creatures. Lacking the potential for good that even the most wicked of humans possess.

The air was cold and damp and stank of mold and decay like a tomb. And that's what it is, Albus thought, a tomb to bury the still-living bodies far from the light of day, a man-made hell to torture those deemed unworthy to live above with the good and productive members of society.

And now, Dumbledore, respected wizard, champion of good, descended into the innermost circle of hell, reserved for traitors and Death Eaters.

It was one Death Eater in particular whom Dumbledore sought now. He found him in a small cell located in an unlit annex far from his fellow inmates. The young man's hair was greasy and unwashed and his complexion was pasty from his months of dark confinement; in the dim light his white skin almost seemed to glow against his matted black hair and filthy black robes. He sat staring blankly at the soot-grey wall and was either unaware, or simply did not acknowledge Dumbledore's presence.

"Severus," he whispered gently so as not to startle the young man, but even so, his voice seemed amplified in the stillness of the catacombs of Azkaban.

Severus did not turn his blank gaze away from the wall. He sat unmoving as a statue. When he spoke, his voice was jagged and almost inaudible, like the way someone whose throat had been cut might speak. His voice was flat and faded, dead of all passion or emotion. It unnerved Albus more than the Dementors he'd passed.

"So much for your promises, Headmaster." There was a long pause where neither spoke and the silence was nearly unbearable. "You told me that even if I betrayed Voldemort, helped you, that I'd still have to stand trial for the things I did as a Death Eater. And I accepted that. I knew I'd have to answer for my crimes. You said you'd do your best to help me, to make them understand all I did, all the sacrifices I made, all the things I'd risked to help you, but even so, I may spend the rest of my life condemned...and I accepted that, too." He shuddered then, and his voice cracked with distant pain. "What I can't accept is that I'm being locked away like some dirty little secret and no one has bothered to weigh the good I did against the crimes I committed. I've been here for five months now, waiting for a trial. Five months. And the Ministry seems set on dithering and delaying until I rot down here."

"That's why I've come today," Albus replied once Severus' rant had ended. "I've been meeting with the Minister of Magic and I got him to set a date next week for the trial."

Severus turned away from the wall and looked at Dumbledore through the iron alloy bars for the first time. "Next week?" Albus thought (hoped?) he saw a glimmer of longing in those empty black eyes. But that small glimmer was a failing spark compared to the fire that Albus remembered used to reside in Severus' eyes. A blazing passion to learn, to know. That driving curiosity that landed Snape in trouble on more than one occasion in his school days and even after, but fuelled his soul with purpose, was gone. Extinguished. Now, in the place where that fire once burned were only dead ashes, black and cold.

Albus mourned for the loss, but knew that pity would only bring him Snape's scorn. "I know it's not much time to prepare, but I'll make sure that you get a fair trial. I'll do everything within my power to help you. I won't let you waste away down here in these dungeons." He paused, waiting for a response that didn't come.

"Severus?" he prompted.

But Severus had already turned his face back to the dank cell wall and gave no indication of hearing, or even caring.

"Oh, Severus, what have they done?"

* * *

The trial of Severus Snape was a small, secret affair. Other than Snape himself, the only people present were Headmaster Dumbledore, Minister of Magic (a lanky, fidgety man by the name of Constans Yarbrough), Barty Crouch Sr., a pair of Dementors to watch the prisoner and two top notch Aurors...just in case. But in the hours that had passed, the criminal had sat quietly, watching the presentation of physical evidence and transcripts of witness accounts.

Pale and filthy, Snape sat, chained to his chair in the center of the dreary room, never twitching or seeming to notice the cold chains biting his skin through threadbare robes. He sat with a distant, false stillness of one already in hell. Dementors flanked him, causing him to tremor now and then and Mr. Crouch paced about the floor, glaring hatefully at the accused Death Eater.

"The man has admitted to his heinous crimes," Crouch said to the small council, spitting out words as if they were bitter on his tongue. "I confess to being most perplexed why we're even contemplating letting a self-declared Death Eater walk free. This trial is a farce, and I suggest we end it quickly."

Too late for that, Albus thought wryly. Crouch had already spent the better part of the day gleefully recounting in detail, every bit of damning evidence against Snape.

Mr. Crouch held up a sheet of paper clutched in his hand so that all could see. "I'm sure that with just the most cursory of glances at this confession, this... declaration of evil, you will all realize that this criminal," he whirled and pointed an accusing finger at Snape, "deserves to be thrown in the deepest pit of Azkaban with the rest of the villains."

Through Mr. Crouch's tirade, Snape's expression did not waver. Only Albus noticed that Severus' eyes dulled and his jaw tensed when Crouch mentioned Azkaban. The young man was fast losing hope.

Albus stood then, "Enough fancy oratory, Mr. Crouch. Let the council hear the confession."

"Of course," Mr. Crouch cleared his throat and recited loudly, "I, Severus Celer Snape, confess that I have acted out of accordance with the laws set out by this ministry. I confess to being a member of the mutinous group known as the Death Eaters. I confess to being guilty of the crimes of treason, sedition, assault, and murder.

Crouch looked up from the statement he was reading. "Those are the basic offenses. Is this not more than enough to convict the monster, or shall I go on?"

"Please, continue, Mr. Crouch." Dumbledore said, evenly.

Barty Crouch glanced incredulously at the Headmaster. "Very well then. The details as stated in the confession: participation in twenty-seven raids total. Fifteen were wizard targets, including the infamous McDaun incident. The rest were muggle raids. A total of eight individuals died directly by his hand. Later, as a member of the inner circle, he was responsible for overseeing all potions used by the Death Eaters. An unknown number died from the poisons he created. Are you now convinced, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"I don't deny that Severus was a Death Eater." Albus replied calmly. "Nor do I deny that he committed the aforementioned crimes. That piece of paper you hold in your hand, Crouch, that piece of paper from which you were reading, I was there when Severus wrote it. Three years ago. In my office at Hogwarts on the day he came to me to turn himself in. The Ministry of Magic chose not to press charges then." Albus Dumbledore walked towards Snape, ignoring the foul Dementors nearby. "This young man served the Ministry for three years before Voldemort's downfall. It would be the greatest hypocrisy, not to mention ungrateful, if, after having risked great danger for our cause, we were to lock him away when he's no longer useful. Severus admitted to his crimes, and has already paid his penance. The information we received from him saved countless lives. I ask the council to consider this, when passing sentence."

Mr. Crouch had a fine retort prepared, but before he could speak, the Minister of Magic, hitherto watching silently twiddling his quill in his hands, stood and addressed the small council. "I believe I have heard enough. Has all the evidence been presented?" Crouch nodded sharply in assent. "In that case, we will recess this court while the verdict of Severus Snape is decided." With that said, Minister Yarbrough rose and whisked away with the two Aurors. Crouch and Dumbledore followed close behind leaving the Dementors to return the prisoner to his cell to await judgment.

* * *

The Minister of Magic's office was a large, plush room with a high domed ceiling. Golden wood paneling covered the walls and the floor was cushioned by thick carpet. In the center of the room was an antique desk with silver inlay about the rim. Yarbrough arranged himself in his seat, his lanky body seemingly swallowed by the throne-like monstrosity. Dumbledore and Crouch sat across from the Minister of Magic in a pair of less imposing chairs.

"Gentlemen," Yarbrough began before his guests had a chance to settle, "I've decided to dismiss the charges against Severus Snape."

"What?!" Crouch exclaimed angrily, rising from his chair in his ire. "Are you mad? The man's a self confessed Death Eater!"

"And a Ministry spy," Yarbrough reminded him. "Dumbledore's right. This Ministry could have prosecuted three years ago when Mr. Snape first turned himself in. But we did not. And Mr. Snape was of great use to us during those years, and has shown no sign of treachery against us."

"You mean to say you're going to let him go scot-free! No punishment at all!"

"Yes, I am."

Crouch slammed his hand into the desk in anger. "The man's a murderer! What about the families of those he's killed? You owe it to them to see this monster pay for his crimes!"

"Severus Snape has already paid for his crimes," Dumbledore responded in a calm voice, even in the face of Crouch's loud protest. "He spent three years helping us at great risk to his life. We will never know exactly what he went through trying to keep up the charade to allay the suspicions of his fellow Death Eaters while also trying to avoid being killed by an over-enthusiastic Auror. One wrong move and both sides would have been out to exterminate him. And he spent five months in prison alone with his conscience. The young man has suffered quite enough."

"So, you set this Death Eater loose in the world...what then?"

"Actually, I planned to offer him a position at Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied with a hint of a smile, knowing what sort of response such a proposal would elicit from Crouch. And indeed, Dumbledore was not disappointed.

There was a brief moment of stunned silence before Crouch erupted, "You are mad!" His eyes were veritably bulging from their sockets in anger. "A Death Eater. In a school. Teaching our children. The wizarding community won't stand for it!"

"The wizarding community knows nothing of Severus' history," Dumbledore replied reasonably. "He was top of his class in school; I have no doubt the he will be an adequate professor."

The Minister of Magic sighed, and running his hand through his hair said, "I'm afraid, Albus, that I must agree with Mr. Crouch on this matter. Is it really appropriate for a former Death Eater, reformed or no, to be teaching our children?"

Mr. Crouch gave the Headmaster a smug, victorious smile, which Dumbledore chose not to notice.

"Minister," the Headmaster said, his blue eyes grave, "A word with you alone, please?"

Minister Yarbrough nodded curtly and with a sharp wave of his hand, dismissed Barty Crouch from the room. Scowling, and glaring at the old headmaster, Mr. Crouch skulked out of the office and shut the door firmly behind him with two Aurors in the hallway flanking the door eyeing his every move.

"Well, Albus, what's this about? Snape at Hogwarts? What's your reasoning?"

Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers resting on his lap and leaned forward closer to the Minister. "Constans, my friend, Severus has just spent the last 5 months in Azkaban, the last three years before that, as a spy. He has no family. His friends are dead or locked away. In short, the boy has no place to go. We owe it to him to help him start his life over." A familiar twinkle sparkled in Dumbledore's eyes. "And I was not lying to you when I said I believe he'd make a proficient teacher."

Yarbrough sighed again, desperately craving a double espresso, the substance, consumed in mass quantities, that fueled him through his days. "I'll let you have your way, Albus, for one reason only. There's no one I trust more than you to keep an eye on him. But there are two provisions that must be met. First, I'm placing an Auror in Hogsmeade to observe Snape and be nearby...just in case your trust is misplaced. Second, he's not to be involved in anything even slightly smacking of Dark Arts, or he's out."

"I understand, Minister. And thank you."

"Just make sure that Mr. Snape doesn't do anything to make me regret my decision."