A Second Chance

~

By the fifth day of the holidays, Snape was both bored and tired of his incessant worrying. Lucius Malfoy had gone away to Spain for a few days, and so Snape had no lessons in the Dark Arts. Instead, he sat in his basement study and tried to work alone.

Hippolyte’s words kept echoing around in his head. Snape knew well how precarious his position was. If anyone in the League realised what he was doing, he would be in Azkaban instantly. And now, if Voldemort ever found out that he had lied - lied like some kid playing a kid’s game, he thought bitterly - if Voldemort realised this, Snape would prefer to be in Azkaban.

He thought back to his conversation with his mother over breakfast. There had been yet another report in the newspaper of an attack by a group of Death Eaters on a wizarding family in the north of England. His mother had been appalled, saying that she didn’t feel safe living out here in such an isolated place when things like this were going on, and that Dumbledore or the Ministry should do something. Snape had wanted to reassure her, tell her that she was completely safe, but of course he couldn’t. For one thing, he didn’t even know that she was safe. So he had tried instead to convince her that the Death Eaters weren’t so terrible, that they were on the winning side and any sensible person would be safe if they supported Voldemort. His mother had rejected all his arguments. Now Snape thought about it with some disgust. How could his own mother hold such opinions? She should have some respect for his father’s memory.

But it had been much easier to be a Death Eater, Snape concluded, when he had lived in a dormitory full of people who supported Voldemort.

The work he was doing was tedious, and after a while, Snape left it and went upstairs. His mother was out at work, so he was alone in the house. He glanced again at the letter he had received yesterday morning from Professor Dumbledore. His work as a security guard would begin that afternoon with a training session.

This job had impressed his mother greatly. She was delighted to think that Professor Dumbledore had wanted her son to work for him. Of course, Snape had been unable to tell her anything about the League, but he could imagine her delighted response if she knew. Snape had to remind himself that he was not really working for the League.

He looked at the instructions Dumbledore had sent him. He was to travel to a place on Dartmoor, and locate the conference centre. There was a map, and a small piece of parchment bearing the words ‘Roaring Dragon Conference Centre’ in silvery script. It was enchanted to prove his identity.

As he was reading through the directions once more, a sharp buzzing came from the hall. The mirror was flashing. Snape hurried to answer it.

He pointed his wand at the silvery surface which did not show his own reflection, and saw the scowling face of Lucius Malfoy appear before him.

‘Sir,’ he said, startled.

‘Come to my house this evening at seven tonight,’ he said. ‘Your training isn’t over, even if you are on holiday.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Snape quickly.

‘Good.’ Malfoy broke off the connection before Snape could say any more, and the mirror clouded over again.

Today was going to be busy, Snape thought. First the security work, and then Malfoy. Not for the first time, Snape considered how much simpler things would be if he weren’t a double agent.

~

Snape approached the building with care, picking his way through the mud and the debris covering the ground. He wondered if he’d got the right place. On the outside, it looked like any other farm shed, with a corrugated iron roof and rickety sides, and it seemed scarcely any larger than a garage. But once he had opened the door, he found himself in a magnificent entrance hall, with marble floors and a crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. He wiped his feet carefully on the mat and spotted a large mahogany desk with a small sparking banner floating above it which read ‘Reception.’ Behind it, an elegant young witch was sitting filing her nails. She let the file slip away when she saw Snape.

‘Are you here with the security?’ she asked when he had crossed the hall. ‘May I see your pass, please?’

Snape took out the small slip of heavily-enchanted parchment which Dumbledore had given him, and showed it to the receptionist. She tapped it with her hand, muttering, ‘Verefactum.’ The parchment glowed for a second, and she nodded. ‘That seems in order. The other security people are in the Violet Room.’ She made a gesture to the stairs. Snape, feeling dismissed, proceeded away from the desk.

He climbed the stairs and wondered how to find the Violet Room. The corridor stretched away before him, with a line of identical dark wooden doors, all shut, adorning both sides. Snape scowled. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to have to do this, but he had no choice. He couldn’t back out of it; he had to keep trying, and backing out was what cowards did in any event. Snape had no intention of being a coward.

Walking slowly down the corridor, Snape’s eyes were flickering around. He could see the charms on the windows to stop anyone from seeing in, the warning spells on the doors and the paintings hanging on the walls were all of martial figures who were clearly guarding the place. It was well defended.

Voices were floating out from one of the doors. Deciding that there was no way he would find the Violet Room without asking someone or looking behind every one of these doors, Snape pushed open the door to the room.

This was definitely the Violet Room. The carpet, the curtains and the trim around the walls were all bright purple. There were four people sitting comfortably in armchairs, and they turned to look as Snape entered.

‘You must be Severus Snape,’ said a witch, smiling at him. ‘Excellent. Come and take a seat.’ Without speaking, Snape crossed to the empty armchair and sat down. ‘I'm Louisa Simley, this is André Ivanovitch Yalvan, Pierre Dubois and Sophie Pascua. I'm in charge of Security here.’ She gestured to the other wizards sitting around her, and they all smiled at Snape, who gave a short nod in return.

‘We were just discussing the various ways in which this conference will be at risk,’ she said. ‘Obviously, the threat from You-Know-Who is most important, but we have to be careful not to blinker ourselves to other possibilities. The safety of the delegates, many of whom are very important wizards, rests upon us.’ Snape nodded, wearing the face he had used in lessons to make himself appear intelligent and interested. Louisa Simley gave him a smile. ‘Now, we’ll begin with a tour of the centre, and then we’ll start work on the protective spells.’

~

The afternoon passed quickly, and Snape found himself becoming absorbed in the work being done to protect the famous wizards who would be attending. Little of it was difficult in theory, but a great deal of skill required to make sure that the spells were absolutely correct. Snape also found that he was considerably better at this than the other three, despite being the youngest, which increased his enjoyment of the afternoon. He felt almost regretful when Louisa Simley announced that it was time to close for the day.

Leaving the conference centre and walking back out into the field that surrounded it, Snape glanced at his watch. He had to be with Lucius Malfoy in ten minutes. He continued walking until he was away from the Anti-Apparition Zone, across the muddy field, and then Disapparated.

He reappeared outside the door at the back of the manor that led directly to the dungeons, opened it and went down the stairs, automatically shutting off the trapping spells. Then he came to the door, which had the appearance of a heavy stone wall. For a moment he paused, and then he knocked.

‘Enter,’ called Malfoy’s smooth voice. Snape obeyed.

The dungeon was warmer than usual, there was a fire burning in the grate and some lights hanging from the beams across the ceiling.

‘Ah, Severus. I will be entertaining a colleague of ours here in a little while, so you must work in silence. Get that Madness Mixture finished, I’ll check it when he’s gone. Just keep quiet and out of trouble, if you can manage that.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Snape woodenly. He found his lessons with Lucius Malfoy highly unpleasant, though he learnt a lot. Malfoy showed him the other side of what he had learned at Hogwarts, and Snape found it all fascinating. Malfoy handed him a roll of parchment with a list of ingredients for the Madness Mixture, and pointed to the corner of the room without speaking.

In this corner of the dungeon, there was a cupboard containing all sorts of potion ingredients. All the standard ones were there, of course, and many more things which would never have been allowed at Hogwarts, such as powdered human blood and snake venom. Snape soon was absorbed in working out how to concoct the potion from the recipe, and forgot all about everything else.

He was startled to hear the door to the dungeon open, and caught the sounds of voices from across the room. There was a screen across the centre of the room, so that he could not see the new arrival, but he knew it was another Death Eater from the way Malfoy was speaking.

The conversation was very tedious at first, and Snape didn’t really pay any attention. He worked in absolute silence now, knowing that Malfoy would be enraged if he were to cause an explosion or drop a bottle. When the potion was simmering, Snape sat back to stir it slowly and listen to the conversation.

‘He’s definitely going to be there, then?’ That was the silky voice of Lucius Malfoy. Knowing the man well after studying intensively with him for months, Snape could visualise the expression of boredom on his face that masked his interest.

‘That’s what our master told me.’ Snape had only caught glimpses of the visitor, but the voice belonged to a young man, well educated and upper-class.

‘I see. Oh, let me get you another drink.’

The cauldron was starting to boil a little bit too strongly, and Snape had to turn his full attention to it. He carefully reduced the heat of the fire, hearing the clink of glasses from the other side of the screen and the sounds of a liquid glugging out of a bottle. He stirred the fluid in the cauldron. Even in the dim light of the flickering fire, he could see the colour changing.

There was another clunk of the bottle being set down, and sounds of sipping. The fire crackled and spat.

‘It’s certainly a marvellous chance, if you can get in,’ said Malfoy, as if commenting on the weather. ‘Have you got anyone on the inside to help you? I suppose the conference will be well guarded.’

Snape’s head jerked around. The conference? He listened intently, wishing he could see through the screen.

‘Ah yes, well, as a matter of fact we do.’ The visitor took a sip from his glass. ‘He’s not a Death Eater, of course, but he owes me rather a lot of money. I think it will be easy to persuade him to do what I want. He’s doing some menial task.’

‘And the target…?’ Malfoy’s lazy tone gave the impression that he knew who the target would be, but couldn’t be bothered to say the name. The guest cut in across him.

‘Dumbledore, of course.’

Snape’s mind was racing. A member of staff at the conference was working for the Death Eaters? How had he got in? And Dumbledore was going to be attacked? He ran through all the possible ways such an attack could take place before he remembered himself. What did he care about Dumbledore?

As he was trying to sort through his thoughts, an ominous hissing noise made him leap to his feet. The cauldron was about to boil over, and little red pellets were starting to leap out like popping corn. He fumbled for his wand and waved it at the fire. It flared up for a second and then went out. The cauldron was still rumbling dangerously, and worse still, Snape could hear the voices from the other side of the screen.

‘What’s that? Lucius, what on earth is going on?’

‘Ah … my apprentice. I shall have to speak to him.’ Malfoy’s voice was measured and careful, and he sounded extremely angry.

‘He was listening to - to our conversation?’

‘No need to worry, he’s one of us. The new young man. He found all the information about the conference in the first place,’ Malfoy replied soothingly, and strode behind the screen. Snape was still trying to stop the red pellets that were leaping from the cauldron, but he couldn’t work out what they were. One shot straight at Malfoy as he approached.

‘Severus! What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded. ‘Can you not even brew a simple potion without causing havoc?’

Snape looked at him wildly, and had enough sense to say nothing. The other man appeared from behind the screen, looking curiously at the mess. Snape recognised his face suddenly with surprise. Oscar Nott was a prominent businessman in the wizarding world, and Snape would never have imagined that he was a Death Eater.

‘So,’ Mr Nott said, interrupting whatever rebuke Malfoy had been planning, ‘you heard our little conversation, did you?’

Snape nodded, knowing there was no point in lying. Besides, overhearing conversations was something Death Eaters were supposed to do.

‘Well then, perhaps you’d like to help us with the job we were discussing. As Lucius here claims to be too busy to come adventuring with us, perhaps you’ll come and make up the numbers. It would be good practice for you. If Lucius can spare you, that is.’ He looked at Malfoy for permission.

‘Please,’ said Malfoy, ‘do take him. As you can see, he’s something of a liability.’

‘Ah well, we can’t all be as wise and learned as you, Lucius. So what do you say, boy?’

‘I’ll come, sir,’ Snape said breathlessly, trying to stop the cauldron. He grabbed a lid and slammed it over the top. The Fireweed continued to pop out against the lid, making little pinging sounds as it struck.

‘Excellent. I won’t tell you any more than this. We’re meeting at Stodger’s Farm on Dartmoor. You’ll be able to find it on any map; it’s a Muggle place. Midnight on Friday.’

Snape nodded dumbly, holding the lid onto the cauldron with one hand.

‘Wonderful. Now that’s sorted out, Lucius, I don’t see that there’s any need for me to stay here much longer.’ Oscar Nott steered Malfoy back behind the screen.

‘You clear all that up, Severus,’ said Malfoy, glaring at him. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Snape. He stood motionless as they both walked up the stairs from the dungeons to the manor. Then he sank back down on the chair by the desk, leaving the mess untouched.

What was he in now? Now he had to go with the Death Eaters to kill Dumbledore. But there was no way he could leave the conference without it looking suspicious, and no way he could tell the Death Eaters that he was already there, because of the lie he had told Voldemort. He kicked out at the cauldron furiously. This mess was ridiculous.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that there was only one solution that would keep him safe from everything. He would have to kill Dumbledore himself. If he did that, the League would fall apart, and he wouldn’t have to work for them any more. And Voldemort would reward him richly, he would be safe. Nobody would be able to steal his glory this time, he would make sure of that.

But he would have to stop the other Death Eaters from getting there before him. Snape settled down at the desk to think it over, treating it like one of the logic puzzles he was so good at. He couldn’t stop the Death Eaters by speaking to them, so he would have to block them from the inside. He would have to identify the person who was going to admit them, and force him to stop. Then he would be the only Death Eater with enough wits to get into the conference, and he would kill Professor Dumbledore. It was his only way out of this mess.

~

Finding out about the plot was harder than it seemed, however. Snape knew that his best bet would be to try to identify the person in the conference centre who owed something to one of the Death Eaters.

As a member of the security staff, he had access to all the records concerning the employees. Nobody so much as gave him a second glance as he sat in one of the small offices poring through lists of names. There were a hundred employees of the conference centre, and it was possible that many of them would have a debt to Oscar Nott. Snape paid especial attention to those who had access to the rooms of the delegates - the cleaners and the chambermaids. He remembered that the person was a man, and his list grew shorter.

But he was quite unable to work out who it was without interviewing and intimidating all the people on his list. Snape knew he would be able to find it out that way, but it would seem highly suspicious. Instead, he decided to watch and wait. The person who supported the Death Eaters would be revealed in time.

~

Snape was waiting by the door when the conference officially opened, standing with one of the other security people to observe the delegates as they entered. They were arriving by Apparation and Portkey to a place just outside the centre, and walking up. A few paused to greet Snape, and he gave them nods in return. Finally he saw Dumbledore walking through the mud towards the door.

‘Ah, good morning, Severus,’ he said with a smile, stopping and reaching out to shake Snape’s hand. Snape took it reluctantly.

‘Good morning,’ he said, not looking Dumbledore in the face.

‘Louisa told me you were doing well,’ he said. ‘Are you enjoying this?’

Snape made an indeterminate sound, which Dumbledore took as agreement.

‘It’s good practice for you,’ he continued. ‘You’re doing a great job for the League.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Snape managed, still not looking directly at Dumbledore. The elderly wizard only beamed at him.

‘Will you show me up, or do you have to stay here?’

‘I can show you up,’ said Snape, wishing he could have lied. But this was what he was supposed to be doing.

‘Wonderful,’ Dumbledore said. Snape took the small suitcase from his headmaster and led him up the sweeping marble staircase. One of the cleaners was doing something in the corridor just outside the door to Dumbledore’s suite as they approached. Snape glanced at him suspiciously, but the man was simply charming a spider’s web out of a corner.

‘Here,’ said Snape ungraciously. ‘This is your suite.’

If Dumbledore noticed the rudeness in his tone, he gave no sign of it. He thanked Snape politely.

‘I don’t want to keep you from your work,’ he said, ‘and I'm sure I’ll be able to find my way around.’

Snape took the hint. ‘Fine, goodbye, sir,’ he said as he strode across to the door. Dumbledore gave him a last smile, which Snape didn’t return. He was becoming progressively more uncomfortable with the thought of what he was going to do. But he knew he had to do it.

In the corridor, he saw the cleaner walking purposefully towards the broom closet. On a whim, Snape went slowly after him. The man opened the door to the closet and went in. The door swung almost shut behind him. Snape reached it and stood outside, pretending to be fascinated by the scene from the window.

For a long time there was silence, and Snape began to think that he was being stupid. Then he heard a voice.

‘He’s here, sir.’

There was a crackle and a burst of static before Snape heard the reply. When he did, he was sure.

‘Good. Do not speak to me again before Friday.’ The voice was that of Oscar Nott, the Death Eater he had heard at Malfoy Manor. There was a second burst of static, louder than before, and a swearword from the cleaner. Snape turned away from the window and lounged against the frame, waiting for the door to open and the man to come out.

When he did, Snape stepped forwards. The man looked at him, aghast.

‘What - what d’you want?’ he asked nervously.

‘Who were you speaking to just now?’ Snape demanded, his voice very quiet.

‘Nobody,’ the man said quickly.

‘I heard voices. Two voices,’ Snape countered, stepping a little bit closer to the man.

‘It weren’t anything special, and it’s not your business anyhow,’ the cleaner answered, looking at Snape with a bit more confidence.

‘I believe it is my business when I hear you speaking to Oscar Nott.’ Snape’s lips moved into an expression like a smile. ‘I think you could explain a little bit better. Perhaps we should go back where we won’t be overheard.’

‘I got private business with Mr Nott,’ said the cleaner in a voice that was rising to a squeak.

‘So have I.’ Snape pushed open the door of the closet and gestured for the man to enter. With dragging steps he did so. Snape followed him in, took out his wand to make a light, and shut the door. He spotted a Muggle radio transmitter on the top shelf.

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘that’s how you got around the wards. Muggle equipment.’ He took it down and examined it for a second. ‘Even cleverer, Muggle equipment specially enchanted to stop the magic from interfering too much.’

‘It’s none of your business what I keep in ‘ere,’ the cleaner said defensively.

‘I do believe you are wrong,’ Snape said. He paused, then said abruptly, ‘You’re going to let the Death Eater in on Friday?’

The light from his wand was shining on the cleaner’s face. The man was pale, his eyes flickering around the room. He licked his lips nervously.

‘I - I gotta do it,’ he said weakly in protest. ‘You don’t understand. I owe him a lot of money, and if I do this he’ll cancel the debt.’

Snape gave no sign of having heard. He moved his wand closer to the man’s face, forcing him to step back against the wall.

‘You do know the penalty for helping a Death Eater, don’t you? You won’t have to worry about your debts in Azkaban.’ Snape paused. The man was staring at him. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Tom Unwin,’ he answered quickly. Snape remembered the name from his list.

’35 Fortune Alley, isn’t it?’

Tom Unwin nodded dumbly. ‘I didn’t want to help You-Know-Who,’ he protested. ‘You don’t understand. I got my family to think of.’

‘I don’t care about that,’ said Snape with perfect truth. ‘What time on Friday were you going to admit the Death Eater?’ Although Snape already knew what time he was supposed to join the Death Eaters, he did not put it past Oscar Nott to have tricked him in some fashion.

‘Midnight, when everyone’s asleep.’

‘I see. How many are you admitting?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘The only way you can get out of this is by doing as I say,’ Snape informed the cleaner. ‘You will be late to admit the Death Eaters. Twenty minutes late. You will have an excuse, I don’t care what. After that you will simply keep out of the way.’

‘You’re going to catch ‘em?’ asked Tom in some excitement. Snape didn’t answer. ‘I’ll do it,’ said Tom. ‘I didn’t wanna get all messed up in this. I’ll play along, and you can catch ‘em.’

Snape nodded slowly. ‘Good.’ He stepped away from the man. ‘Azkaban is not a nice place,’ he said quietly. ‘Make sure you don’t end up there. I won’t forget you. Keep your mouth shut.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Tom Unwin fervently. Snape simply pushed open the door to the closet and stepped out. As he walked back along the corridor and down the stairs to go back to watching the guests, he began to think.

What he had just done would foil the other Death Eaters for long enough for him to kill Professor Dumbledore and get away. The Death Eaters would come in, Snape would alert a few of the other security staff, and there would be huge confusion. When Dumbledore was found dead, it would be assumed by the conference people that one of the Death Eaters had done it. Snape would be able to report success to Voldemort, and claim the honour he had been denied before.

On Friday, it would all be done. He would be free of the League and high in Voldemort’s favour. Snape knew his plan was not failure-proof, but he was sure he could get himself out of any problems. It would be easy to kill Dumbledore while he slept, and Snape would not be suspected. He smiled to himself as he walked down the stairs. Soon he would be free of his double life.

TO BE CONTINUED

Please do review and say what you thought. Any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated.
Blaise.
4th September 2000