The Collision

Chapter #4; The Poison

Sitting behind his desk, almost invisible behind a towering mass of books and parchments, Severus Snape felt an icy chill run down his spine. It wasn't the chill of the dungeons that bothered him, although the dungeons cold and damp even in the middle of summer. He had gotten used to it long ago when he was given these chambers, as he got used to the cold, accusing stares that followed him everywhere he went. "Cold, sarcastic bastard," students would whisper behind his back. "An ex-Death Eater who got away," their parents would mutter under their breaths. "Greasy Severus!" his schoolmates' voices from the past resonated in his head. And, the worst voice of all, high-pitched and resembling a snake's hiss, would finally silence them all. "Kill!" it would whisper in his mind, "Kill in your Lord's name and I will give you what you desire the most. The Book, the ultimate knowledge!" His hand clenched in a tight fist, crunching and tearing apart a piece of parchment that lay on the desk in front of him. The icy chill of his spine turned into fiery hot rage and, in one swift movement, Snape shattered the tower of books and parchments and sent it flying across the room.

Not now!, he prayed silently, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, feeling a renewed tidal wave of guilt wash over him. In times such as this, he needed distraction, an assignment to occupy his mind, to keep such thoughts from creeping back into his mind. Preferably something dangerous, something no one was capable of solving, that could give him a few days of peace and a feeling that one more step, however small, had been made toward redemption. Of course, he would never admit to himself that it was his repentance that made him a spy. Dumbledore never had to ask; he offered his services freely, as a means of revenge, a revenge for the stolen years and innocence of his youth, and the sleepless nights of his present. And now even that is denied me. I'm not a Death Eater, not even a spy, and certainly not that good potions master as thought(as good a potions master as I thought?) myself to be; what am I now?

His eyes, almost with a will of their own, darted toward a small phial filled with yellowish liquid resting on his desk. Another surge of anger threatened to overwhelm him. Oh, how he would like to send that damned phial after the books and parchments, to crush it on the stone floor of the dungeons. He would, of course, do no such thing. It was, after all the only sample they had and it needed to be analysed and an antidote for it found. If only the research were as simple as the ease with which the poison killed. One small drop in your food or drink and you would be gone, just like that. At one wild moment, Snape considered doing the "bottoms up" with the phial. But that would be the easy way, wouldn't it? And the irony of it would please Voldemort, even if he didn't get the chance to kill him himself. Voldemort loved irony (That's one thing we have in common). Ironic. What else would you call a poison stolen from the smuggles being used against its creators? My Lord, you got it all wrong. Muggles are perfectly capable of exterminating themselves without your aid.

The yellowish liquid glinted benignly. Snape watched it with distaste. Why am I complaining? This is what I always wanted: a real challenge at last. The distraction I so desperately yearned for.

Almost a month ago, a day after his outburst at Malfoy Manor, Dumbledore had summoned him. Snape had been trying to keep himself occupied, a technique he had adopted quickly after becoming a spy. Keep your mind busy and it won't wander to events you don't want to relive again. But nothing seemed to capture his mind for long; nothing seemed to be going as planned. The Dark Lord was getting stronger and stronger with every passing hour, and what did he do about that? Not only had he unmasked himself, he had made Voldemort even more cautious and thus shattered every other possible attempt at finding out his next move. And Minerva...since then he had tried his best to avoid her as much as possible. His own grief was hard to deal with; seeing one of the two people whose eyes didn't contain contempt when dealing with him, with that haunted look in her eyes Severus thought only he could possess, was unbearable. Well done, Severus, one of our very precious allies is crippled. Bring in the next one!

Since the abduction of Minerva's niece, Voldemort had lain down again; not one attack had occurred on either Wizards or Muggles, at least, not one attack that could be connected with Voldemort. Their group of allies grew thinner and thinner as wizards and witches started to suspect Voldemort's return, and they needed every ally they could get. This calmness could only mean one thing, Snape knew all too well: a storm was coming. So it was with dark premonitions that Snape entered Dumbledore's office and perched himself on an armchair across from Dumbledore's desk.

"Albus." He nodded briefly in Dumbledore's direction. After a few moments of awkward silence, he added bitterly, "It is the event of previous night you wish to discuss, I presume," Dumbledore didn't respond, just reached behind his desk and put a small phial of yellowish liquid on it. Snape stared at it for a moment, then returned his gaze to Dumbledore, his eyes impassive.

"Well, are you going to tell me what this is all about or are you just going to continue staring at me?" he snapped losing his temper.

"I was hoping you could tell me what this is," Dumbledore responded gravely. "My sources at the Ministry tell me it was found in a Muggle restaurant, the Muggle restaurant."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Snape started then his hand shot warningly in the air as Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond. "No! I think I understand perfectly. For once in your life try to be less transparent, Albus. Don't we have enough problems already without you inventing new ones just to occupy me and make me feel useful after that idiotic mistake I made?"

"It wasn't a mistake. And I know you're not prone to do idiotic things. Your skill as a spy wasn't the reason I hired you, Severus." Dumbledore's voice was quiet. He had known Snape for long time, had taught him at school and could guess what was going in his mind, but he knew better than to show him any sympathy; in Severus' case, that would only worsen things.

"No, you hired me because I'm excellent with children." Venom dripped from Snape's words. "If this is all," he continued, rising from his chair, "I assure you I am perfectly capable of finding an adequate pastime on my own."

"Will you please allow me to finish?"

"Fine," he said, grudgingly sitting back on the chair. "You could at least give me a Wolfsbane potion instead of a Muggle juice to play with. Neville bloody Longbottom would be capable of finding an antidote for it."

"Not for this one." Dumbledore clasped his hands before him. "Have you heard the case of food poisoning in a Muggle restaurant? No, I suppose you haven't. A few weeks ago, there was an incident in one of the most famous London restaurants. All guests who ordered food around nine o'clock died the instant they took the first bite. All guests along with some members of the British parliament - all died. Muggle detectives closed the restaurant and said it was a food poisoning that killed those people. Normally, this wouldn't draw my attention, were it not for the fact that a person contacted me and said it was not coincidental."

"A Death Eater attack? How do you know you can trust this informant?"

"Alastor has no reason whatsoever to lie."

"Alastor Someone-put-poison-in-my-food-Moody?!" Snape laughed mockingly. "Is this a joke? You trust Moody? The man sees a deadly plot around every corner. Are you even sure that this is the real Moody this time? Why, the Ministry is sinking deeper and deeper in incompetence with every passing day! Who would say they started to meddle in Muggle affairs and, on top of that, they sent Moody to investigate."

"Alastor may be considered a crack-pot by many people, Severus, but so am I," Dumbledore retorted, half amused and half irritated.

"Believe me, old man, I think I'll join their ranks," Snape blurted before he had time to reconsider. Great, Severus! Just great! Go on; insult the very last person on this planet that can stand your presence.

However, to Snape's shock, Dumbledore started laughing. "Ah, Severus, you have the queerest sense of humour I've ever seen!" Snape stared at the headmaster incredulously until Dumbledore finally sobered. "Alastor found few phials of this potion in possession of a young Death Eater he caught few days before the poisoning happened. He took it to the Ministry labs, but no one could say what kind of potion it is or even determine its components. A few days later, the poisoning happened in a restaurant not far away from place where Alastor caught its carrier. Alastor then contacted some of his informants in the Muggle community and learned that a Muggle firm called Genesis, Inc. that deals in some sort of Muggle potion research reported that their stores had been robbed. The whole affair was kept secret because the owner of Genesis, Inc. is the Muggle British military. The bad news is, a large portion of their funds was invested in the research and development of war poisons. The public does not know this information, of course."

"All this still isn't proof that the poisoning was ordered by Voldemort. I agree, he would use any means to achieve his goal, but a Muggle-made poison? Have you considered that the poisoning might be a terrorist attack not even remotely connected with the Wizarding world? Muggles have their own villains too, you know."

"You don't have to remind me of that. Alastor used Veritaserum on the Death Eater he caught with the poison, and he confirmed that this potion is indeed the very same one stolen from the stores of Genesis, Inc. Those people in the restaurant were test subjects for its potency!" Dumbledore said incredulously. Snape eyed the phial for a second, and then returned his attention to Headmaster. He looked almost as old as he actually was, withered and tired.

"So, the experiment was a success, and you think Voldemort is going to use it to kill all Muggle leaders, throwing the Muggle community to its knees, and then move on to our unsuspecting Ministry. A brilliant plan; no one would connect a Muggle food poisoning with Death Eater activity, but it doesn't give any answer to how Voldemort knew of this potion's existence." Snape's eyebrows furrowed as Dumbledore looked past him, sorrow and worry emanating from his eyes.

"There's a saying 'when there is a possibility something might get bad, it surely will'. Unfortunately, in this case, it went from bad to worse. Voldemort wasn't searching for a Muggle poison. He was looking for a person, and found both."

"You're not trying to say-"

"Yes, Severus. Persephone McGonagall, or, if you prefer, Skylar Jonesey used to work for Genesis, Inc."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

So it was with great anticipation and growing apprehension Snape started to work on the potion. Soon it became clear to him that it was a fascinating thing in a dark way; Muggles had evolved greatly in potion making since the last time he had had an opportunity to hear about their scientific achievements. The sheer ease and effectiveness with which it killed was astonishing. It was a powerful weapon, and in wrong hands it could conquer the world. But, as time slipped by, his awe was replaced with irritation and cold fear. After a week, Snape was quite familiar with its killing power, but nothing else. All his attempts at finding the potion's compounds or a way to inactivate its power had failed. High temperature, a bezoar, the strongest universal antidotes-all were helpless against the potion's raw power.

The work on the potion became so time absorbing that Snape almost forgot about the next meeting scheduled a few weeks later upon Lupin's return from his mission among the werewolves.

His attention snapped back to the present as he noticed two familiar shapes before him in the corridor. Black and Lupin-inseparable again. What are they, lovers? His lips curled with distaste.

"Lupin!" he shouted, quickening his pace. "Why, hello! How did your meeting go? Have you, by any chance, managed to get Black bitten? Or did the werewolves reckon he was useless even to them?" Sirius turned, almost knocking Remus down, his eyes flashing with anger and ready to grab Snape's throat. He would have succeeded were it not for Remus' firm grip on his shoulder and hissed "Don't!" in his ear.

"Good puppy!" Snape swooped past them like a malevolent bat, his mood slightly improved, and entered Dumbledore's office. Slowly, the room began to fill up with wizards and witches; Severus noticed Minerva, pale and with dark circles under her eyes, but straight-backed and with her head held high, Dumbledore and, at last, Lupin and Black, red-faced but calm.

"Greetings to everyone," Dumbledore started when everyone took a seat. "We'll start with the newest tidings. Remus?"

Lupin took one deep breath. "As you all know, I was to contact werewolves in Britain and convince them to ally with us. I managed to find the largest werewolf community, but found only a few of the werewolves left there, those old or still undecided about their allegiance, and even those are inclined toward Voldemort. They say that the wizarding world has nothing to offer them except persecution and prejudices. The majority had already left to join Voldemort's army, led by a werewolf who calls himself the Wolflord."

Being an excellent observer, Snape managed to catch a quick glance exchanged between Dumbledore and Minerva. More secrets. Snape wondered what other information that would in future prove vital those two were withholding from him. Sometimes he envied them for their uncanny way of understanding what the other was thinking without words. In these things, they were like old lovers, capable of finishing sentences the other one started. He doubted that they had ever been lovers, and yet between them was something bigger than friendship. It was a bond Snape envied and coveted. Deeply absorbed in his thoughts, he almost missed Minerva's barely audible words, filled with unusual hatred and something else...was she weighing her words?

"So, Galadan has returned."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I think I'll owl Viv to come here," Dumbledore sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. "With news this bad, we need any help we can get."

"Who's Viv?" asked Snape.

"You do realise, Albus, that we could deal with it if only you would allow me--" Minerva started, not even noticing Snape's question. The three of them were seated in Dumbledore's office after the meeting was over.

"No!" Dumbledore interrupted.

"But, it's a weapon they don't expect. We could--"

"No! It is we who don't know what to expect from it. It is too wild, too unpredictable and too dangerous. I forbid you, Minerva, not until we are desperate."

"We are desperate. Galadan and Voldemort alone are formidable opponents, as allies..." Minerva stopped, seeing Albus shaking his head wearily. He looks almost as old as he is. "Promise me one thing: when our situation reaches the point which is in your judgement desperate, you'll allow me to use the Warstone."

"If we ever reach that point, which I sincerely hope we won't, Minerva, I won't stop you. But please, use the time before that to reconsider. The Warstone might not solve anything. It could bring even more damage to us than to our opponents." Minerva nodded.

Uncomfortable silence followed. Dumbledore and Minerva stared into nowhere, deeply absorbed in their thoughts. Another piece of my inheritance goes to waste, Minerva thought. Albus will never give his consent. Not after the Call in me had diminished. It is true; we don't know how it will react, or even if it will respond to a person who defied its call. But it must obey me! It must, even if there is a price to pay

A sudden movement at the edge of her vision startled her. Snape had obviously lost his temper over not being included in this matter.

"Who is Viv? Who is Galadan? And what the hell is the Warstone?" he rose angrily from his chair. "What's the point of inviting me to a counsel if you two continue daydreaming and leave me in the dark. I do have other important business that needs my attention, thank you for asking." Snape headed towards the door and grabbed the handle. "Well?"

"Severus, please sit down," Dumbledore finally said in a hoarse voice. "Minerva?"

Minerva waited until Snape was seated. There are so many things he doesn't know. And for so many of them I hoped there would never be a need for him to know. For anyone to know.

"Galadan the Wolflord is the first werewolf. The number one, old almost as the world itself, from whom all others descended, so to speak. The Moon doesn't rule him; he can change his shape when he wishes. He holds a power to summon wolves and werewolves and even force them to obey him. I don't need to say that the majority follow him willingly, for there is a legend that he is one of the Andain - half Gods of the ancient world of Tuatha de Dannan. Some even say he is the son of the Horned One."

"Tuatha de....but that would mean he is---" Snape interrupted, incredulity in his voice.

"Immortal. Yes, although he can be killed by a silver blade like any other werewolf."

"I thought that the Tuatha were only a myth."

"No, the people of the Goddess Danu or Tuatha de Dannan were the first wizards who walked the face of the earth although their magic was quite different from ours," Dumbledore continued. "Their magic is known as the Bloodmagic or Bloodlore, for they didn't use wands to channel the power in the wizard himself but used the power of the Earth and life itself channelled through a source - a human source. When the first wizards of our kind emerged, they tried to stop Tuatha from using the Bloodmagic for, it seemed to them, that their magic was of a wild and unnatural kind. The Wizards feared the Tuatha and persecuted them in the same way Muggles persecuted the wizards in later years. The Tuatha or the Fairy folk, as they were also called, were peaceful tribes so they retreated into the woods and, after a time, vanished. Some say they went underground, some say that they moved to a world behind the mists. What is known for sure is, before their departure, they forged a ring with the Warstone in it- a talisman that will enable the Tuatha who decided to stay, or their descendants, to defend themselves. The Warstone that will enable the wielder of their blood to call the dark Bloodmagic, the side of the Bloodlore Tuatha never meddled in."

"And the same Warstone has been my family inheritance, given from mother to daughter for more than a thousand years," said Minerva. "One of the Tuatha who decided to stay was my ancestor, and inheritance in the Tuatha tradition goes through mother's line. And here I'm not talking only of inheriting the ring but also of inheriting a power to wield it if one chooses to accept its call. Deny it, and it can be summoned only by a sacrifice of the caller."

"What sacrifice?"

"That we don't know."

"Viv is an expert on the subject of the ancient world and its magic, but even she doesn't know exactly. Or at least she didn't when I last saw her," Dumbledore said. "Yet I hope she might help us finding an alternative way of fighting both Voldemort and Galadan. And--" He stopped awkwardly.

Minerva closed her eyes. Oh my friend, how I wish I could've spared you from this.

"She is also my wife and an ex-Death Eater."

* * * * * * * * * *