The Necromancer Amulet

Chapter Eighteen - Another Chat with Snape, and an Accident

"Well, well, what have we here?" breathed a soft, cold voice in her ear, a voice of death.

The presence of the man was terrifying, and the fox inside her whined as she stopped dead in her tracks. 'It takes a beast to know one,' they had told her at the Ministry, and it was true. She looked up to face the light-haired man with the horrible eyes; her hairs stood on end, but she remained calm, as always.

"What a charming Russian pure-blood specimen," the man said to the Headmaster, who was standing beside him in the dimly lit corridor outside the staff room. "You do keep them to yourself, don't you, Igor?"

"I've only recently discovered her, Lucius, but she shows great promise. Unfortunately, the school cannot spare her; she has such good hand with the children."

Secessa shaped her face into a cold smile, as she gazed at Karkaroff. "Yes. The children are our future, after all. Now, if you excuse me, Professor Khuditskii has delegated the second years to me today, and I need to prepare."

"Certainly," he said, giving her a look reminiscent of a proud pet-owner, and she turned her back on them and walked away.

"Anyway," she heard the man called Lucius say as she turned the corner. "This list of items shouldn't be a problem for you. I will collect everything next Monday."

Soundlessly stopping in her tracks, she pricked her ears. Was this Death Eater business?

"I trust you will be...discreet?" their guest continued smoothly.

"Naturally," Karkaroff replied, and suddenly, firm footsteps could be heard walking down the corridor in her direction.

Quickly, she crept through the nearby door to the Staircase Hall, and slipped up the flight of stairs to the second floor, where she waited until she was certain that the man had left.

.........

One week after her unfortunate potion-accident, Secessa, having finally received a work permit (and a revocation of her ban) from the Ministry, was walking home from the Three Broomsticks, enjoying the silence of an evening stroll. She had been persuaded to go out by Hagrid and Flitwick, as a celebration of her new freedom, but she soon excused herself, blaming lamely some fourth-year essays that she needed to finish correcting. Why she felt lonely in the company of others, but not when she actually was alone, was a mystery to her, but she tried not to dwell on it.

It was lovely to be outdoors again, and she inhaled the fresh air deeply. The night was crisp, but the chill was not unpleasant, and the stars in the night sky spread a gentle light over the hilly path leading to Hogwarts Castle. Far away, she could catch a glimpse of the lake, small wisps of mist travelling over its surface, and to her right, the darkness of the Forbidden Forest loomed, devouring all starlight that dared fly near it.

Entering the Hogwarts grounds, her head a bit light from alcohol, she almost walked straight into the Auror on night-duty: an older man with a wooden leg, a disgusting, revolving eye and some hideous scars on his face. He greeted her with a sharp look.

"Calm night?" she asked him politely, trying very hard not to stare at any of his disfigurements.

"Always is. But you never know," he growled, his revolving eye flickering away to the side to follow the shadow of a hare running across the dewy grass. Somehow, that action made her feel very uncomfortable.

Deciding not to disturb him any further, she nodded and walked away briskly, but she had a peculiar feeling of being watched as she crossed the grounds towards the castle.

Probably a war veteran, she thought conversationally to herself, as she approached the Main Entrance, her head swimming ever so slightly. There seem to be quite a lot of people here with a history. Like Dumbledore, Snape....

Barely avoiding stumbling on a small shrub, she wondered briefly if the man she had just met had known Severus Snape when he was younger. Then, a strange thought occurred to her: if Snape had been a Death Eater, that man might well have duelled with him at some point! I wonder what it was like for Snape, seeking refuge with his enemies like that. Did they despise him openly for his previous choice of company?

Suddenly, the realisation struck home. Perhaps he knew Elena's killer!

Opening the heavy, oak doors with some effort, she glanced at the staircase leading down to the Dungeons. Maybe she should ask him? After all, she deserved to know what had killed one of her closest friends. In fact, she needed to know this, if she was to avenge Elena. With determined footsteps (well, as determined as they could be after an intake of several glasses of cheap white wine), she walked towards the staircase, and followed its descent downwards.

She could not find Snape in his office, however, so she walked down the steps and through the corridor, to see if he perhaps was in his quarters. Outside his door, she hesitated, and then knocked determinedly. There was no answer, and she decided to wait a while for him, and try to clear her head of the alcohol at the same time.

After waiting for some time, she finally decided she'd had enough. She was just about to leave, when something about the door caught her eye. It looked...odd. Curious, she raised her wand, and whispered, "Vestiga". A silvery mist flew out from her wand and swept over the door, revealing flowing streams of scarlet webs. She leaned forward to have a closer look, absorbed by their intricate pattern.

"Looking for something in particular?" asked a cool voice from behind, and she started. Damn that man! Turning around, she saw Severus Snape standing a few feet away from her, his arms crossed. How did he manage to sneak up on me like that?

"No...I was just...."

Eyeing the door, he arched an eyebrow. "You were just checking my wards for me. How considerate. And is there any specific reason for this new interest of yours?"

"You've used five different wards during the last couple of weeks, some cast simultaneously," she retorted, more defiantly than she felt, well aware of the embarrassed blush that was rising on her cheeks. "Why, have you had many break-ins?"

His dark eyes narrowed. "I'd say that is none of your business. Now, are you here to examine my door, or do you, in fact, have an errand?"

She hesitated briefly. To ask about his old Death Eater friends might have seemed a good idea to her in her inebriated state, but now, she realised that she could be playing with fire. She had to tread carefully.

"I came for the fourth-year essays," she said, glancing down the corridor, hoping she was right in believing he hadn't sent them off with Tippy.

"The ones on mind-control? Certainly." She exhaled inaudibly as he opened the door and showed her inside.

The room looked exactly the way it had done the last time she visited, except that there now were some scrolls lying on the ebony table by the fireplace.

"On the small table," he said shortly, and walked up to his desk, busying himself with some parchment.

She walked up to where the scrolls lay and picked them up. Then she paused, and watched him apprehensively. After a while, he lifted his head, and realising that she was still there, he sent her a sharp, slightly annoyed glance.

"Was there something else you wanted?"

Biting her lip, she tried to make her gaze steady before she spoke. "There is something I would like to ask you. It concerns some...old friends of yours." There, the cat is let out of the bag.

He stiffened. "And what made you think I would enjoy disclosing titbits of my past to you?" he asked coldly. His eyes on his desk again, he picked up another piece of parchment, looked at it briefly and then put it back.

"I am not curious about your past," she replied cautiously. "Only about a person, by the name of Bella."

"The less you know about these people," he said curtly, "the better."

"She killed a friend of mine."

Abandoning whatever he was doing, he slowly turned around to face her. There was a brief pause, and he seemed to be sizing her up.

"Her name is Bellatrix Lestrange," he muttered finally. "And if you harbour any plans of avenging your friend, you had better abandon them. You would not stand a chance."

"Nevertheless, I think I deserve to know who she is."

His eyes were black and hard as he spoke.

"She is a madwoman, extremely dangerous and without any conscience whatsoever. Perhaps not as sharp as Lucius Malfoy, but clever nonetheless. She has spent a large part of her life in Azkaban prison, due to her exceptional talent with the Unforgivables."

She stared at him, not quite registering his last sentence. "Lucius Malfoy? Would that be Draco Malfoy's father?"

"Naturally." He eyed her curiously.

"I think I met him once, ages ago."

A soft, cold voice in her ear, a voice of death...

She blinked, and realised that Snape was watching her.

"I was wondering if you remembered," he said softly.

"You know?"

"On his return from that trip to Russia, Lucius gave a very vivid description of you. 'Absolutely dedicated to guiding the children's minds in the right direction,' I remember him saying. This was, of course, one of the reasons for my doubts about you when you first arrived here."

Still half-engrossed in her memory, she shuddered. "He had a very peculiar way of looking at me - almost like a predator."

"Yes, I remember him saying you were good breeding material."

He had a strange glint in his eyes, and she stared at him, stunned. "The perverse bastard!"

"I believe that is an accurate description of him, but I wouldn't call him that to his face. He's a bit too fond of violence. Death Eaters are, as I am sure you know."

She shuddered as she realised who she was speaking to. Suddenly, she perceived an air of intimacy between them that she had never felt before, and the mix of that with vivid memories of Elena's mutilated body unsettled her. What the hell I am doing, trying to get friendly with this man? Confused, she looked down at the essays in her hands. "Thank you for the information. I probably should start working on these," she murmured.

"Yes, you probably should," he replied, but he was watching her carefully as she walked up to the door. When her hand was on the doorknob, he said quietly, "I will not discuss my past with you again."

"No," she whispered, "I can understand that." Avoiding his gaze, she left his quarters, and shut the door soundlessly behind her.

*

Secessa realised when she had been back at teaching for a couple of days that the students were happy to have her reinstated. Not that they would say it outright, of course, but their relieved faces at the beginning of each class was enough evidence that Snape had given them quite a hard time. Having marked most of their spring term essays herself, however, she paid no heed to the occasional complaint of his strict marking: in fact, she found it quite amusing.

The empty seats in her classes and the tense atmosphere dampened the pleasure of being back, however. During her absence, the Dark Lord had spread fear throughout wizarding England by killing Muggle-borns, and several student families were affected. Secessa had only to look at Harry to see that a storm was brewing; he looked extremely agitated. She wondered if he still had the dreams, and in that case, what he had seen in them. Even Dumbledore was exceptionally grave-looking, and walked around with a constantly pondering face.

The Tuesday night of the second week of her return, she was feeding her fruit bat, trying to ignore the beginnings of a headache, when her fireplace suddenly burst into flame.

"Professor Laburova, come to the Headmaster's office immediately, please. Use the floo," sounded Professor McGonagall's worried voice from between the flames, and Secessa rose with a frown, leaving her bat to attack the fruits at will. Had something happened?

She hurried up to the fireplace, threw on some floo powder, and stepped into the fire. Her body surrounded by glistening flames, she called out, "The Headmaster's Office," and the magical fire swept her away from her quarters with a sharp jerk.

Stepping out of the fireplace and brushing the ash off her robes, she took in the scene before her. Professor McGonagall was standing by one of the chintz-covered chairs, clasping its fabric with a white-knuckled hand. On the floor, by the desk, lay the immobile, horrifyingly pale figure of the Headmaster, and by his side kneeled Madam Pomfrey, looking extremely worried. Hagrid stood not far from them, teary-eyed, holding a baby phoenix carefully in his large hands. By the window, stiffly surveying the grounds, stood Snape.

"We were wondering," said Minerva McGonagall tersely, "if you could please explain this to us."

Secessa looked at the older woman, frowning, a chill travelling down her spine. "I assure you, I have no idea -"

"You brought that thing here," Snape snapped. "So I suggest you assist us. Or, did you, perhaps, plan this incident all along?"

Fear rushed over her as her eyes fell on the Headmaster's desk, where the black, twisted form of the amulet lay gleaming coldly on top of a pile of cloth, and then she understood. Hastily, she walked over to the desk, wrapped up the amulet carefully, and with the bundle in her hand, she approached Dumbledore, her heart beating hard. The other teachers followed her movements with accusing stares.

"He said he would try to destroy it," she said softly. "I never dreamed it would backfire on him. It contains a lot of power - it must have been like opening Pandora's box."

Hagrid sobbed at her words, shedding a tear onto the Phoenix, which croaked quietly in response. Professor McGonagall just looked into the fireplace, the corner of her thin mouth twitching.

Surveying Dumbledore's distressingly ashen face, Secessa continued, almost inaudibly, "I see no curse-scars. The phoenix must have taken most of the blast. This means that he has just been drained of energy; the green flame draws warmth, instead of giving it. He should be fine, after some rest."

"He will have to be transferred to St Mungo's," Madam Pomfrey said tensely, "where he must be kept under constant surveillance. Subjection to any strain, at his age..." Her voice broke slightly at her last words.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do," Secessa whispered. A lump was growing in her throat now, and her headache was increasing with every breath she took. "I am so very sorry that I have brought this upon you."

She could hear Snape emit a contemptuous snort, and unable to stand the situation for much longer, she walked towards the door.

"I will be in my quarters," she said, holding back her tears. The room behind her was quiet as she exited.

She wept silently in her bed that night, as she contemplated the miserable properties of her own futile existence. And as she walked into the Great Hall the next morning, feeling the accusing eyes of many students and teachers fixed upon her every move, she wondered for how long she could stand being in the midst of so much dislike. Ten days, maybe, she thought as she sat down on her usual chair, carefully avoiding eye-contact with everyone.

It just wasn't fair; she had finally managed to gain the trust of her students and colleagues, and now this happened! Sneaking a look at the student tables, she noted that the Ravenclaws probably would be particularly hard to deal with, and she sighed deeply. Although the Slytherins seemed remarkably unaffected by the event (actually, Draco Malfoy looked rather pleased), that was hardly any comfort. To her left, Flitwick audibly charmed his chair a few inches away from hers, and tears were threatening to reach her eyes again as she glanced up at Snape who briefly glowered at her with a look of absolute loathing.

No, five. I will wait five days.