The Importance of Being Sirius

Chapter 3

Narcissa:

You may have been surprised to learn that I did not discover Snape's deception for some time, but there were reasons. Not only was Severus a sneaky little devil when he put his mind to it, I also had other things to occupy my attention at this time. Voldemort, to be more specific.

I suppose you've heard ad infinitum how fearsome and terrible the Dark Lord is, but considering most reports seem to come from his enemies, it's hardly surprising that he has received highly biased publicity. So let me assure you now that when we were first introduced at a rather interesting little café on Knockturn Alley, Lord Voldemort behaved with perfect politeness.

Snape:

I thought you said he strangled one of the waitresses.

Narcissa:

Yes, but he did it very good-humouredly.

Lucius and I had been thinking for some time about how limited the scope of opportunity was for wizards as...gifted as ourselves, and discussing the deplorable state into which the wizarding world had fallen, and we decided that it was time we got in touch with someone who could help us. So when Lucius came to me one day as I was strolling by the lake, clutching a piece of paper and looking smug, I knew that he had finally been successful.

"Well?" I asked, after checking there was nobody else within earshot. Lucius glanced at the charmed pper bag I was holding.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Mice," I replied, reaching into the bag and retrieving one rodent by the tail. Taking aim, I threw it as far into the lake as I could. It landed with a small splash, scrabbling desperately to stay afloat.

"Is there any reason why you're throwing mice into the lake?" Lucius asked me with a quizzical look. As he spoke, a tentacle emerged from the water, seized the mouse and dragged it down into the depths. After a few minutes, there was a loud burp, and a small skeleton floated to the surface.

"I'm feeding the squid," I replied unnecessarily. "I have a theory that a carnivorous diet will turn it into a giant. Anyway, tell me, why the smug look?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play with me, Lucius, or it'll be your skeleton floating in the lake next," I replied. Lucius grinned at me, his eyes glinting with the expression which sent first years running in the opposite direction.

"I've found someone," he said, putting his arm round me as we strolled deeper into the grounds. He passed me the paper he was carrying, on which was written:

Café Hecate, next Saturday, eleven o clock. In your own interests do not be late.

Underneath followed a detailed list of directions. The writing was in green ink, sloping and faintly old fashioned. I noticed that the paper was thick and creamy, the sort our family used at home. He had money then, this person Lucius wanted us to meet.

"Who is it?" I asked Lucius. He stopped walking, and turned to examine me, the patrician strucure of his face as familiar as my own.

"Have you ever heard," Lucius asked slowly, "of Lord Voldemort?"

Snape:

I suppose you're wondering exactly what happened to cause such ridiculous histrionics during Black's little run-in with his friends.

Well, I had been going to the Gryffindor common room for some weeks by that time, whenever I could be certain it was safe, and although I was careful not to do anything obvious, I was beginning to find out quite a few things that the idiots would definitely have preferred me not to know. I won't go into any details here, as most of the information I discovered was extremely boring, but on that particular day, I stumbled upon a piece of information which was as useful as it was dangerous, although I didn't know it at the time. It happened like this:

In the beginning, everything went as normal. I'd seen Black leave the Gryffindor common room, and as he was carrying a pile of books I reasoned he'd be heading for the library, and it was unlikely he would return for an hour at least. To tell the truth, I had become rather remiss in ensuring my safety by that stage, I almost believed that I could never be discovered. But as I said before, I had discovered very little of value, and I decided that the deception had gone on far enough.

I could see that Black's friends (as well as Black himself) were growing suspicious. Pranks had been turning sour on them, quarrels were starting out of nothing, and a whole manner of other unpleasant accidents seemed to occur for no good reason. There was a limit to even their stupidity.

Besides, it is unnatural, becoming someone else on a regular basis. There were bound to be side effects, I reasoned. As a matter of fact this hypothesis was absolutely correct, although I didn't discover this until too late. Anyway, I decided enough was enough. So on that particular morning, I decided it was time for one last move, time for something decisive.

Sirius:

Are you planning on inflicting any more of this introspective rubbish on us? Because personally I don't think I can take it.

Severus:

So it's perfectly acceptable for you to give us all the details of your pathetic little spat with your friends, or for Narcissa to expound at tedious length about throwing mice into the lake, but the minute I try to add some depth to the story I get heckled? Well, it seems Gryffindor standards of fairness haven't changed very much since I was at school.

Narcissa:

Please don't criticise my literary style again, Severus. We've known each other for so long, it would be such a shame for me to have to end our acquaintance by cutting off your head and impaling it on a spike.

Dumbledore:

You know the muggles have discovered this wonderful thing called "anger management". I'm beginning to consider teaching it here at Hogwarts, it seems most of our former students have serious rage problems. Please continue, Severus, I don't think I can take much more of this constant bickering.

Severus:

Very well.

Disguised as Black, I climbed through the portrait hole into the common room, where I found Black's palls all sitting around looking rather sombre. Then I realised that Lupin was missing, which cheered me somewhat. Short of his death, Lupin's absence is the best thing about him. As I strolled over, I noticed that Pettigrew was just staring into space, whilst Potter was poring over a piece of parchment with an odd expression.

"What is it?" I asked. I was pleased to notice that both of them jumped.

"Didn't see you come in," Pettigrew said. He looked even more nervous than usual.

"That would explain why you just jumped about a foot in the air. What's wrong with you both?"

Potter passed me the piece of parchment wordlessly. I gazed at it interestedly, wondering if it would provide me with any ammunition for the havoc I was planning on wreaking. On it was scrawled dates for more than a year.

"Notice anything odd?" Potter asked. I stared blankly at him for a moment (which I'm sure made my impersonation of Black much more convincing) before realising what he meant.

"They're all dates of the full moon," I said. "What the hell is this Prongs?"

I mentally winced at the nickname, but it was unavoidable. One thing I wouldn't miss about the charade was the sickening camaraderie between them all. The constant backslapping gets you down after a while. Slytherin looked like paradise in comparison.

"This is a list of all the dates that Remus has been sick for the past year," Potter replied sombrely.

"Which means -" I began, with dawning comprehension.

"Exactly," Potter replied grimly, "exactly."

"What?" asked Pettigrew bewilderedly.

"He's a werewolf, you imbecile," I snapped, barely noticing that I was talking out of character. As this was my last time as a Gryffindor it scarcely mattered anyway. Potter glanced surprisedly at me, but he was still busy digesting the news of Lupin's nasty little secret to realise that anything was wrong.

"What do we do now?" Pettigrew asked.

"I don't know," I said, (using one of Black's standard phrases), and mentally regretting that there was no one present to appreciate my acting skills. Because as it happened I knew exactly what I was going to do. I moved over to the window, gazing out at the school grounds, turned red in the light of the dieing sun, and smiled to myself. Because this was a situation almost too good to be true.

It was at that moment that Lupin finally decided to grace us with his presence. He stumbled through the portrait hole looking rather pale and dishevelled, and I remembered that he had only just recovered from another "illness". He stopped short when he saw us pouring over the sheet of parchment.

"What's that?" he asked, and before Potter could say anything, he snatched it out of his grasp. It only took a few minutes for him to realise what the list contained, and why Potter had made it. I saw the colour flood from his face as he read, then he looked up at us with an expression which almost made me feel sorry for him.

"You know about...?" he asked softly. I saw Potter nod, and judging by his and Pettigrew's expressions, I guessed that they were about to put some kind of prodigal son routine into affect, with much group hugging and promises that they didn't care whether Lupin was a werewolf, or a vampire or even a bloody dementer, because they were friends and that was what friends were for. Oh spare us, I remember thinking, with a touch of anger I couldn't quite explain.

"I'll understand if you don't want anything more to do with me," Lupin said quietly. I could see the other two opening their mouths to deliver their glib little platitudes, and at that moment I decided to strike.

"You do realise that you're a monster, don't you?" I said softly. The other three turned to look at me. "I mean," I continued, warming to the subject, "I thought you were pathetic before, Remus, but that was nothing compared to this. There are aurors who've dedicated their lives to killing people like you, Lupin, did you know that? If you had any decency you'd put yourself out of your misery before someone ends up dead."

"Sirius," Lupin said. He said nothing more. I don't think he could manage anything more.

"Why are you saying this?" Potter demanded fiercely. I savoured his expression for a moment, there were few things I enjoyed better than really aggravating James Potter.

Sirius:

Just when I think you've become as pathetic as is humanly possible, you make a comment like that and prove me wrong.

Severus:

The really pathetic thing is that it probably took you an hour to come up with that uniquely unfunny remark.

Dumbledore:

Sherbet lemon, anyone?

Narcissa:

You don't have any sherbet lemons.

Dumbledore:

I know, I was just trying to change the subject. I don't think I can tolerate much more arguing. Please get on with the story, Severus, we still have to hear from Sirius, you know.

Severus:

And I'm sure everybody's looking forward to that...Where was I? Oh yes, the dramatic scene:

"Oh, I suppose it's alright that he's probably killed people by now, is it?" I asked. "Or is he too pathetic to manage even that?"

I saw suddenly that Pettigrew had gone to Lupin and had put his arm round him. The fact that Lupin was in fact an evil monster seemed to have bypassed his consciousness. I wasn't surprised, I'd never had a very high opinion of his intelligence. But something about their closeness infuriated me, although I didn't understand why.

"Be quiet, Sirius," Potter said grimly.

"Fine," I said. "If you want befriend a monster that's fine with me. But in my opinion it would be better if we killed him now. Think about it: the world is rid of a monster, and Remus gets to join his wonderful dead parents. Everyone would be a lot happier."

Remus flinched as if I'd hit him, but said nothing. Something about his wordlessness chilled me. I had never seen him at a loss for words before. He'd always been the one who finished everyone else's sentences, who knew the words to the most obscure incantations. I had never seen him without a devastating comeback in any verbal debate until that moment. Then a shrill voice broke the silence of the common room:

"You bastard, Black." Pettigrew faced me, shaking with as much fear as anger. I was torn between a desire to laugh and an aching sense of...envy? Loss? Guilt? I don't know. "I quite agree with you," I said, and turned and left.

Narcissa:

The following weekend, Lucius and I portkeyed our way to London, to the address that Lucius' contact had sent us. The directions led us to a small café on Knockturn Alley, marked only by a small sign, which read Café Hecate in faded writing.

Lucius and I, regular clients of the best hotels since birth, were rather unimpressed, but as we went inside, I realised that it was a well-chosen place for such a meeting, both expensive and discreet. The décor was muted but costly, the floor overlaid with a creamy carpet, the walls covered with mirrors, which made the whole place seem larger and airier than it was, as well as making it impossible for anyone to sneak up behind you. But despite the tastefulness of the furnishings, it was clear that this was a far from reputable place. I noticed that most of the clientele preferred to keep their hoods up, despite the brightness of the day. As Lucius and I entered a waitress immediately approached us and took our coats.

"Mr Malfoy and Miss LaMotte?" she asked us respectfully.

I nodded, realising with interest that I was looking at a veela. I suddenly understood why mother went to such lengths to promote the improbable legend of our own veela ancestry. Her face, flawless and unintelligent, seemed to give off a subtle radiance of its own. To my surprise, Lucius remained immune to the glamour, and said briefly,

"Take us through, please," as if he had other ths on his mind. I could usually tell what he was thinking, and at that moment I knew that he was almost afraid. My opinion of the mysterious Lord Voldemort rose slightly.

We were led through the café, under the silent scrutiny of the other customers. Lucius strode past them without a glance, either too arrogant to care or pretending to be. I stared around me, wondering if there was anyone I recognised. A few faces seemed familiar, but as I glanced at them they seemed to shrink away, their eyes averted. I realised that it was that sort of place, the kind of establishment my mother always warned me never to go into.

The waitress directed us through a marble archway into a smaller room which seemed to be kept for private use, because it was occupied by one man, seated at a small table near to the fire. The only sound as we entered was the crackling of the flames, and the faint clinking as the stranger stirred his coffee. Then he looked up at us and scrutinised us both carefully, his own face hidden by the hood he was wearing.

"Your guests, my lord," the veela said respectfully.

"Thank you, Octavia. Perhaps you would be good enough to bring two cups of coffee for my young friends."

He spoke politely enough, his voice was soft and cultured, but the veela seemed to flinch at the sound. He spoke quietly, not as if he was afraid of being overheard, but as if he had no need to raise his voice to be attended to. I felt his gaze on Lucius and myself, but what he was thinking I could not tell.

"Actually, I'd prefer a glass of white wine," I said to the retreating waitress, who started, and looked from me to the stranger with a half-puzzled, half-terrified expression. Lucius looked at me too, with a tinge of admiraton in his eyes.

"Certainly," our host said after a pause, and the waitress disappeared, with one frightened glance at us. "Please sit down," Lord Voldemort added, when the door had closed behind the veela. Lucius and I obeyed automatically. Neither of us said anything for a moment, during which Voldemort surveyed us in silence.

"We were told you were enlisting supporters," Lucius began.

"That is correct."

"I'm flattered that you chose to see us yourself," I remarked, determined to appear at ease, "surely we must be rather small fry to you?"

"I am concerned not what with what you are now, Miss LaMotte, but with what you can be," Lord Voldemort replied. "And I believe that you and Mr Malfoy have the potential to be quite the opposite of small fry."

"Which is why I'm here," Lucius said promptly.

"And why are you here, Miss LaMotte?" Lord Voldemort asked. I thought I could hear a trace of amusement in his voice, but with his face covered it was impossible to tell.

"I am here to find someone worth serving," I replied swiftly.

"Indeed. How interesting. If you serve me, Miss LaMotte, I am certain you will find it well worth the effort. However, I must tell you now that I demand absolute loyalty."

Lucius and I glanced at each other. I saw reflected in his eyes the suppressed excitement that must have been visible in my own. This, I felt, was what we were intended for. Our raison d'être. It only took us a moment to be sure that our decision was unanimous. I felt Lord Voldemort's eyes travel between us, noting our nspoken agreement.

"I assure you, that would be no problem," Lucius said. "We would serve you until death, my Lord, if you allowed us to join your followers."

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and the veela reappeared, carrying a tray on which rested a cup of coffee and a small glass of white wine. She set both down on the table with shaking hands. I tasted the wine, and realised with surprise that it was a highly expensive vintage, probably imported in the late eighteenth century.

"This really is an excellent café," I commented, as the waitress took Lord Voldemort's empty coffee cup and left. "This is the best wine I have tasted since I left home."

"As I own this establishment, I am pleased to hear you say that."

"It doesn't serve exclusively as a café, of course?" said Lucius.

"Of course," said Lord Voldemort, and removed his hood with a smile.

Sirius:

After the incomprehensible scene with my friends, I fled. Blindly, and without any idea of where I was going or what I was going to do. The only thing I could think of was that somehow, someone pretending to me had done something so terrible that my friends all thought I was a monster.

Severus

Actually it was Lupin who...sorry, Albus.

Sirius:

For an ex-death eater you're pretty happy to make judgements, aren't you?

Anyway, I decided I needed to go somewhere to clear my head, so I headed outside and walked deep into the grounds, until the school was out of sight and I was completely alone. After a while the trees thinned out, and I found myself in a long, desolate grass pathway, edged on either side by tall yew trees. I had never seen it before, but living at Hogwarts this was completely normal.

It was the most desolate pace I had ever been, but at that moment this appealed to me. It was the sort of place you could think alone without being interrupted. So I strolled slowly down the yew walk, until I got to the end, where a small summerhouse was all that separated me from the forbidden forest. Then I flung myself down on the grass, and began to think.

Somehow, my friends were under the impression that I had said or done something awful to them. I knew I hadn't done it; therefore it was obvious that the person who seemed to be taking over my life had now decided to ruin it as well. The question was, who?

At that incredibly contrived moment, I saw Snape step through the trees at the other end of the yew walk.

Of course I didn't know it was him at the time, as he was still under the effects of the polyjuice. Instead, what I saw was my mirror image, pacing slowly through the darkening grounds, as if he/I had something on his/my mind.

I was too surprised to gasp, but somehow he must have become aware of my presence, because he looked up and stared at me. I realised in a flash that he was as shocked to see me as I was to see him. Before he could move or react, I had my wand out and pointed straight at him. He stared straight at me, wearing that sneer he seems to think makes him look so impressive. It was peculiar, more than peculiar, to see such an alien expression on my own face. I walked slowly towards him, until we were only a couple of metres apart, glaring at each other through the darkness.

"Now, perhaps you'd like to tell me who you are," I said grimly. To my astonishment he began to laugh, frighteningly and hysterically. The sound seemed somehow sinister in the silence of our surroundings, and I became aware of how dark it was growing.

"I don't think you want to know," he replied, when his laughter had subsided. The speech, the expression seemed suddenly horribly familiar. Imagine seeing the expression of someone you loathed but on your own face. It was awful.

"You're not..." I began, not able to bring myself to believe it. The thought was too terrible for me to deal with. He nodded.

"Snape," he finished. If I hadn't been so angry, I would have noticed something about the way he said it. But I was too furious to notice. The anger welling up inside me was fiercer than anything I'd ever felt before; I hated him so much at that moment that it almost terrified me.

"You..." I said, unable to think of a word bad enough to call him. Volumes of swear words wouldn't have covered what I wanted to say to him at that instant.

"Very crushing, Black," he said. "I've always envied your way with words."

Then I hit him. I was too angry to use magic, the only thing I wanted was to hurt him as much as possible, to wipe the smug sneer of his face, which was also my face, which made everything a million times worse. He didn't try to stop me, he seemed resigned, as if he no longer cared what happened to him. It was only when he was sitting on the ground, staring bleakly at me without seeming to notice the blood trickling down his face, that I came to myself.

"Are - you - quite - finished?" he managed to spit out. I tried to keep myself from the strangeness of looking down at my own battered face and knowing that I was responsible for it. The whole thing seemed like something from a dream.

"You're going to be expelled," I said furiously. "They'll kick you out for this, and good riddance. You're sick, Snape, there's something wrong with you. I didn't think even you were capable of something like this."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said.

"I'm taking you to Dumbledore before you change back," I said, trying not to look at him/me (it was odd, feeling all that hate and having to direct it against your mirror image), "you're not going to escape this, Snape. And try to run off and I'll give a completely new interpretation to the word "suicide"."

Then he began to laugh. It was hideous, the sound, especially coming from my own mouth. I found I could hardly bare to look at him.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"What's so funny?" he repeated, in a tone that made me suddenly wonder if he was completely sane (his recent behaviour hadn't done much to disprove this idea). "Well, I'll tell you, shall I, I'm sure you'll find this hilariously funny," he continued. "You needn't worry about me changing back before you can get your stupid revenge, Black, because I'm not going to change back."