The Worm That Turned

Chapter 10 - The Prophecy

The Hog's Head was Hogsmeade's - and indeed, all of wizard Britain's - least reputable pub. Dark, dingy and full of shady clientele, it was the last place Severus would have expected Dumbledore to hold an interview for a new teacher. He pushed open the door, which creaked like something from a haunted house film, and was met with a hot fug of stale beer fumes. For a few seconds he was transported back to his younger self, fetching his father home from the local dive.

Pushing away such treacherous memories, he fixed his fiercest expression on his unprepossessing features and strode across to the bar. 'A beer, please,' he said shortly, pulling out his moneybag.

The barman took his time to serve him, and Severus took the opportunity to scan the interior for Dumbledore. There didn't seem to be any sign of the Headmaster, although it was so gloomy it would be quite possible to miss him.

'Four sickles,' grunted the barman. Severus found the coins and took the grimy glass to a table near the door. Most of the drinkers favoured the dark corners, but he needed to keep an eye on anyone entering and leaving.

It still made no sense to Severus that Dumbledore would enter a place like this. He must really want to get this woman on his staff. But that also seemed unlikely. Dumbledore's interviewee that evening was Sybil Trelawney, a middle-aged woman who'd spent her career - if it could be called that - as a jobbing fortune-teller, mainly catering to Muggle funfairs. She was the descendant of the famous Seer Cassandra Trelawney, but seemed unremarkable other than that. From what he could tell she had no money, and lived in a rented caravan.

All in all, he was stunned that Dumbledore would even consider employing such a nobody, let alone interview her in person when he hadn't afforded Severus that privilege. It could only be because of her famous connections, something that made Severus hate her on principle.

Voldemort had not been pleased that Dumbledore was planning to interview Trelawney with a view to offering Divination at Hogwarts. 'Just more evidence of the damage that this fool is doing to Hogwarts!' he'd snarled, causing everyone to quail back and hastily examine the floor. 'One of the few venerable institutions we have left in Britain to be proud of, and what does he do? Fill it up with phoneys and fakes, sprouting fictitious nonsense and calling it magic! The sooner we can take over that school, the better. There won't be any place for tea-leaves or crystal balls in Hogwarts once I've finished with it!'

Severus had been dispatched to the pub to try and listen in on the conversation. He'd managed not to allow Voldemort to find out about his argument with McGonagall, and the Dark Lord still believed that Severus had a chance of getting a teaching post. He'd told Voldemort that they'd said he was too young, and been suspicious of his potential connections to the Death Eaters. To his immense relief, this was accepted without question. The latest plan was to kill everyone that got appointed to the Dark Arts post as early as possible, to terrify anyone else out of taking the job and leaving Severus the only possible candidate.

In the meantime, Voldemort wanted to know what Dumbledore was saying to this woman. Was it really a job interview, or a smokescreen for some other clandestine project? If the latter, he wanted to know the details. If the former, it might provide useful tips for Severus' next attempt at getting a job. So Severus found himself in the Hog's Head, sipping at revolting beer and keeping his scowl fixed on the entrance.

Dumbledore entered so unobtrusively that Severus wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't been staring straight at the door with great intensity. The tall, bearded Headmaster was disillusioned, and his purple robed figure rippled and blurred as it quietly crossed the room. No one else gave him a glance, although he noticed the barman's eyes linger for just a second too long on the figure. His own eyes watering with the effort of focusing on the disillusioned form, Severus managed to see it disappear into a door at the rear of the pub, behind the bar.

Of course, Dumbledore wouldn't hold the interview in the main bar area. There must be rooms upstairs. Now the question was how to get through the door without the barman noticing. Severus could disillusion himself, but not as effectively as Dumbledore - and Severus was pretty sure the barman had noticed even him. He would have to wait for a distraction - or cause one himself.

He looked around the dim recesses of the pub, and then gave a grin of triumph. Tucked away in a corner were three hulking men playing a game of cards. He recognised one, a thuggish Death Eater called Gorgonius Goyle. Perfect. He sneaked a quick look at the barman, who was busy putting away glasses, and then flicked his wand in the direction of the card players.

'Hey! What are you playing at?' rumbled Goyle, addressing the man opposite him. 'You trying to cheat me?'

'Cheat? Who're you calling a cheat?' replied his opponent, rising to his feet.

The barman hastened across the room, wand out. 'Now, now, gents. Let's not have any trouble.'

Severus was already moving, disillusioned and light on his feet. No one noticed him slip through the door and pull it softly shut behind him. It was dark and claustrophobic on the other side, and for a moment he thought he'd arrived in a broom cupboard. Then his eyes adjusted and he made out the outline of the stairs and a dingy passageway. He began to sneak up the stairs. Half-way up, he cast his eavesdropping spell.

'...indeed, I have been looking at the cards and I have foreseen myself in a room... a little tower room perhaps... surrounded by eager young faces. I have Seen it very strongly.' The voice was just as he'd imagined, misty and vague and totally put-on. Trelawney was every bit the pathetic old fraud that her biographical information had suggested.

He heard Dumbledore make some platitudinous response. Of course, it was hard to judge without being able to the see them, but he had the distinct impression that Dumbledore was no keener on Trelawney than Severus was. The two exchanged some more dull conversation, Dumbledore querying what she would put on the curriculum, Trelawney giving answers that were distinctly woolly and meaningless.

Severus had a sudden moment where he looked at himself with an outsider's eyes. Here he was, crouching in the dark on some dirty stairs at the back of a horrible pub, eavesdropping on a pointless conversation between a devious old teacher and a talentless charlatan. All so he could report back to an evil Dark Lord to whom he was inexorably bound, with the aim of bettering his chances of gaining a teaching job he did not want and had no hope of getting. He was worth so much more than this! The Half-Blood Prince should not be brought so low!

He was seriously considering giving it up for a waste of time, when Trelawney broke off mid-warble. 'Madam Trelawney, are you all right?' asked Dumbledore's voice, with a note of genuine concern. Severus frowned and listened more closely.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,' rasped a strange and horrible voice. It sent shivers down Severus' spine. It must be Trelawney speaking, but it couldn't sound further from her misty and vague tones of earlier. 'Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the-'

A hand grabbed him roughly from behind, lifting him by the scruff of his robes. 'What have we here then? A little sneak!' Severus had been so engrossed in Trelawney's prophesising that he hadn't heard the barman coming in behind him. Now suddenly they were face to face. A pair of sharp blue eyes stared into Severus'. The younger man struggled desperately to raise his wand arm, but years of altercating in pub fights gave the barman an advantage, and he pulled Severus' wand from his hand.

Severus was torn between the need to fight off this attack, and the need to hear the rest of the prophecy - for that was what he was sure it must be. Every second this idiotic publican grappled with him, more precious words were pouring from Trelawney, words that the Dark Lord would want to know. 'Let me go!' hissed Severus, afraid of speaking too loudly and disturbing the Seer.

'Sneaking around when my back's turned, listening at keyholes!' exclaimed the barman.

'I'm nowhere near a keyhole!' Severus protested.

'We'll see what Albus has to say about all this,' continued the barman as though Severus hadn't spoken, now advancing up the stairs and pushing Severus in front of him. 'These are troubled times we live in, people who listen at doors might be up to no good.'

They had arrived on a dark landing and before Severus could stop him, the barman knocked roughly on a door. Dumbledore's voice sounded within. 'Enter!'

The room inside was small and no cleaner than the rest of the pub. It contained a simple bed, a bedside table, a washbasin, and two kitchen chairs. Rising from one of the latter was Albus Dumbledore, resplendent in purple. Trelawney sat in the other, blinking owlishly behind an enormous pair of spectacles. 'Found this little ne'er-do-well eavesdropping on your conversation, Albus,' said the barman. 'Thought you'd better decide what to do with him.'

'I wasn't eavesdropping, I took a wrong turning on the way back from the toilets. I'm a paying patron of this pub and I don't expect to be manhandled. Give me back my wand!' Severus spoke quickly, avoiding Dumbledore's eye whilst simultaneously trying to assess the man's demeanour. Did he seem disturbed by what he'd heard?

'Liar as well as a creep, are we?'

'Thank you, Aberforth,' said Dumbledore in a quelling tone. He looked down at Severus from his great height, and the blue eyes met Severus' black ones. Instantly Snape felt the horrible sensation of legilimency being used on him, tendrils of mind magic entering his brain. His months of practice paid off, and he closed his mind with ease, staring back at Dumbledore. The Headteacher spoke again, 'A wrong turning, eh, Severus?' he said quietly. 'I think I can agree that you have taken a wrong turning, although perhaps not tonight on the way back from the toilets. The good thing with wrong turnings is that one always has the opportunity to turn back again.'

What did he mean by that? Severus stared at him, wary and cornered. He wanted to escape from this man's scrutiny, to think through what he'd just heard and decide what to do. He wanted to see Lucius and share his experience with his friend. He wanted a stiff drink. 'I didn't hear anything,' he said sullenly.

He knew Dumbledore did not believe him. After holding his gaze for five more very uncomfortable seconds the Headmaster said, 'If you wanted to improve your interview technique you only needed to ask, Severus.' He turned to Sybil Trelawney, who was gawping at them open mouthed. 'Severus is also interested in a job at Hogwarts, you see. Well, I'm sorry Severus,' he addressed his comments back to Snape. 'I'm afraid that the position has been filled - assuming of course that Madam Trelawney is prepared to take it?'

Trelawney's mouth gaped a little wider, then she shut it with a snap. 'Oh yes, yes of course... of course.' She began to smile and her voice sounded stronger and more certain. 'Of course, I had Seen this all along.'

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore. 'So further listening at doors will not be necessary, Severus. Aberforth, thank you for your assistance. Perspicacious as ever.' At this, the barman made a derogatory sound. 'Perhaps you would be good enough to show Mr Snape out of the pub. We wouldn't want him taking any more wrong turnings. Who knows where he may end up?'

Severus was propelled to the door by a shove in the small of his back. Aberforth the barman frogmarched him down the stairs and along the passageway, where he wrenched open a door and unceremoniously pushed Severus into the rain. 'You're barred,' he said shortly, throwing Severus' wand after him and slamming the door shut.

*****

Voldemort paced the floor. Severus was trembling and thought he might be sick. He'd just revealed what he'd heard of Trelawney's prophecy to the Dark Lord, and now he was praying that he wouldn't be killed. 'You believe there was more?' Voldemort asked, in a low voice.

'Yes, my Lord. She definitely said 'and' before I got interrupted. I didn't manage to hear any more - I had used an eavesdropping spell I invented and I'm afraid it failed when my concentration broke.'

'How long might she have gone on afterwards?'

'A minute, my Lord, maybe. When I got into the room she seemed to have stopped speaking.'

'Hmm....' Voldemort stopped suddenly and looked dead into Severus' eyes. Dumbledore's legilimency was nothing to this. There was something about Voldemort that seemed to get into every inch of your being. When you were with him, everything in the world became a trap. 'You have done well in hearing this prophecy, Severus.'

Snape sagged slightly with relief. Beside him, Lucius spoke tentatively. 'My Lord? Do you believe this prophecy is genuine?'

'Do you not, Lucius?' asked Voldemort, turning the beam of his gaze onto Lucius, who began to sweat.

'I... I don't know, my Lord. Prophecies are notoriously difficult to interpret. They often end up being self-fulfilling.'

'This one seems remarkably easy to interpret, Lucius. A boy will be born at the end of July, to parents who have defied me three times. This boy will have some sort of power, that could potentially enable him to defeat me. There isn't much room for doubt there, is there?'

'No my Lord, but Severus did not hear whole thing. We don't know what else it went on to say. Look at the prophecy about the Pillar. The prophecy said the Pillar would be destroyed, but it only got destroyed because the prophecy said as much. If you ignore this prophecy, it loses any power it might have.' Lucius stopped, clearly wondering if he'd said too much.

'Perhaps if we were the only ones to know of it. But Dumbledore heard this prophecy too. It is reasonable to think that he will not be so reticent about acting. If he thinks there is any chance of defeating me, he will grasp it with both hands. No, we cannot afford to ignore this. We must find this child and destroy him, before he has the chance to wield this supposed 'power' against me.'

'The child hasn't been born yet,' began Lucius, looking uneasy.

'I am aware of when July is!' snapped Voldemort, and both young men flinched in terror. 'You can go now. Both of you. And speak of this to no one!'

*****

Being pregnant had made Narcissa even worse tempered than ever. Severus' eyes were drawn to the huge roundness of her stomach as though pulled by gravity. 'For goodness sake, Lucius!' she shrieked, seeing Severus' gaze. 'I told you I didn't want people seeing me like this!'

'Come on Cissy, it's only Severus. He's practically part of the family.'

Narcissa gave a shriek of exasperation and threw up her hands. 'Lucius Malfoy, I despair of you!' she declared, before storming out as best she could, encumbered as she was.

As soon as she was gone, Lucius rounded on Severus. 'Well? Is it true?'

Severus nodded grimly. 'I'm afraid so. It was the Auror, Alastor Moody. They brought him in for treatment. Monty put up a good fight, it seems.'

'But not good enough,' said Lucius quietly. He was very pale, and moved over to slump into an armchair. 'Monty! Good old Monty. I can't believe he's dead.' He shook his head, staring at the fire with empty eyes. 'He never should have gone over to E-cell.'

'It could have happened to anyone,' said Severus with a slight shrug.

Lucius clenched his fists convulsively. 'And the others? The others just ran off and left him?'

'Of course they did. We'd have done the same.'

Malfoy opened his mouth as though to protest, but shut it again. He got to his feet and crossed to a bookcase, returning with a heavy leather bound book. Sitting again, he began to leaf through. Severus moved over to take a closer look, and realised it was a photo album. There were endless snaps of Lucius and Narcissa, smiling blankly in evening dress, smugly shaking hands with dignitaries, posing in front of Atlantis. Then their wedding pictures. Severus gave a start to see one of him with Lucius, his friend's arm draped over his shoulder. Lucius was beaming triumphantly, whereas Severus looked grumpy and put-upon.

'I always meant to give you a copy of this one,' said Lucius, pausing. He flipped over a few more pages, and there was the Slytherin Quidditch team of 1971. Lucius stood in the centre, haughty and handsome in his green robes. He was flanked by two heavy set youths, and it was the one on the right that he touched briefly now. 'Look at us all there. All we cared about was winning the Quidditch cup.'

Severus remembered it well, the hours of listening to Lucius droning on about tactics whilst Severus polished his shoes and sharpened his quills, making polite noises at the appropriate junctures. 'You did win it too,' he reminded him.

'Fat lot of good it did us,' said Lucius sadly, still staring at the picture. 'Monty Blackwell,' he repeated again, in the same tone of wonder. 'You're quite sure he's dead?'

'Of course I'm sure. He's dead, Lucius. Dead,' he said again, since Lucius seemed to be having trouble grasping the concept.

'I remember when I first met him,' said Lucius, turning the leaves of the album further back, rewinding through his own life. 'He pushed me over at a garden party. I must have been... three, maybe? No more than four. His father gave him such a thick ear! I felt rather sorry for him. We ended up hiding under a table eating trifle.'

It was hard to imagine a child Lucius, especially one engaging in such an undignified activity as eating stolen trifle under a table. Lucius continued, 'We joined the Death Eaters together. Him, me and Walden. We didn't know... we didn't know...' He took a very deep breath, than snapped the album shut. 'Where are my manners? I haven't offered you a drink yet. Where is that wretched house-elf? Dobby!'

'It's all right,' said Severus, rising to his feet even as a terrified Dobby appeared, clutching a wooden spoon. 'I ought to go. I've got a potion brewing back at the flat that'll need seeing-to soon.'

'Master called?' began Dobby, who was flung back off his feet by Lucius' vicious slap. Malfoy had struck the creature right across its face, literally launching it into the air.

Severus stared, as Lucius turned back to him. 'That is a shame, Severus. We should go out soon. Would Friday night suit you?' His voice was quiet and calm. From the floor, Dobby was gasping and sobbing.

'Er... yes. I think so.' He had a sudden urge to get out of Malfoy Manor as soon as possible. Lucius angry was very unpleasant indeed. 'I'll see you Friday.'

As he crunched away down the gravel drive, he felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Dobby, who was no doubt now taking the full brunt of Lucius' feelings about Monty's death. Who'd want to be a house-elf?