Unintended Consequences 2

Chapter 5: Return to Hogwarts

Snape had considered how best to get himself and his belongings to Hogwarts, and had settled on the Knight Bus. This is why he was standing outside the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London early Saturday morning. With its usual loud noise and bright light, a purple triple-decker bus pulled up on the road beside him.

"Good morning!" said the conductor in a cheerful voice. It was, Snape noted, the round-faced young witch he had met earlier in the summer. Her purple uniform was crisp and unwrinkled; apparently, she did not always work the night shift. "Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transport-" she broke off her patter as she recognized him as well.

"Say, I remember you! You 'ad a quieter night this time, eh?" she said with a wink.

"Hogwarts, please. How much will it be?" Snape asked, ignoring her question.

"You mean 'ogsmeade, dontcha. That's twenty Sickles, plus one each for the trunk and the boxes." She climbed down from the bus and went to pick up a box.

"Allow me," Snape said, flicking his wand at the pile of his belongings and causing them to float up into the bus. He handed her his money and followed them aboard.

"'ogsmeade," she told the driver as she, too, boarded the bus.

"No, I do mean Hogwarts," Snape corrected her coldly, and took a bed near the front of the bus. His belongings stacked themselves neatly against the wall nearby. The conductor followed him as the bus lurched into motion.

"That must've been some morning after," she opined. "That's why I stay away from firewhiskey. Learned me lesson after a night of drinking at me cousin's."

Snape curled his lip, prompted by an amusement he could not share with her. He sincerely wished he could stay away from the source of his headaches as well, but he had made his choice, and would just have to live with it. He wished she would shut up.

"School's not in session yet," she said, changing subjects. "What do you want with 'ogwarts?"

"I am the new Potions Master," he answered shortly. The conductor giggled.

"You're 'ardly old enough to've finished school yerself," she said, smiling broadly.

"Nonetheless," he replied, pulling some parchment and a couple of Potions texts from his knapsack, "I will be teaching Potions." Might as well get started on some planning for the first week of classes, he decided. If nothing else, it might serve to end this inane conversation.

"Magical Draughts and Potions," she read. Snape ignored her, wrote "First Years" across the top of the parchment, and started flipping through the text. Apparently, this was sufficiently boring, for the conductor returned to the front of the bus to chat with the driver instead.

When the bus came to a stop in front of the castle some time later, Snape descended and floated his trunk and a pile of boxes out onto the road in front of the school. As the bus departed, he walked up and examined the single padlock that chained the great iron gates shut. A quick check confirmed that no simple spell would open it. A host of defensive jinxes protected the gate and stone walls themselves. Doubtless, the added security measures were a response to the ongoing war.

The Knight Bus had taken less time than he had expected, Snape saw, glancing at his watch. Professor McGonagall was not expecting him for another twenty minutes at least. Shrugging his shoulders, he sat down on the trunk to wait, resuming his planning of the first years' lessons. If Professor McGonagall were not there by ten, he decided, he would set about attracting the attention of someone inside the grounds.

When he looked up some time later, he saw a green-clad figure in a wide-brimmed hat had left the castle and was walking down to the gates. As the figure neared, he recognized that it was indeed the Deputy Headmistress. She was wearing one of her trademark tartan robes and the same hat he remembered seeing so often in Transfiguration class. Her black hair, pulled tightly back into a bun, still showed no sign of grey, and her eyes gazed sternly through her square-rimmed glasses. She looked very much as he remembered from his student days, which, he was suddenly acutely aware, were not long behind him. Putting his notes away, he rose to his feet.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," he said as she approached.

"Professor Snape! I hope you were not waiting too long," she replied.

"Not at all, the Knight Bus dropped me off earlier than I had expected," he said, waving his wand at his belongings. The boxes stacked themselves on top of the trunk, and the entire pile lifted up into the air.

"There!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall, touching her wand to the padlock. It snapped open, and the chains rattled as they snaked backwards. As the gates opened with a loud creak, Snape set his belongings floating up towards the castle.

"Thank you, Professor," he said as he followed his boxes onto the grounds.

Professor McGonagall closed the gates and locked the padlock again behind them.

"I'm sorry you had to wait, Professor Snape," she said primly. "It's all the new security - we can't be too careful here at Hogwarts."

"I understand, Professor," Snape replied.

"Well, I planned to begin by showing you to your quarters. You will be able to leave your things there," she said as they strode up to the castle together.

"That would be fine," he agreed. "Will I be taking Professor Slughorn's old office on the first floor?" He didn't remember the room with any particular fondness. He supposed that it would serve, now that the excess of little footstools, tables, and knickknacks that had cluttered the room were gone with its former occupant.

"I neglected to mention that in our correspondence, Professor Snape," she answered. "No, I took the liberty of having the House Elves prepare a suite in the dungeons. Professor Slughorn has occupied his office since before I was a student at Hogwarts, and I am afraid that it is taking him some time to move out his belongings."

"I suppose the office you selected will be a lot closer to the Potions classroom and my charges," Snape commented.

"Indeed yes, I selected an office right next to the Potions classroom," McGonagall responded. They had reached the doors of the castle, which opened at their approach. Snape's boxes were hovering in front of the massive wooden doors, awaiting further instructions. Snape flicked his wand at them and they proceeded across the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. McGonagall and Snape followed. She stopped next to an oak door not far from the Potions classroom. Removing a key from a pocket, she unlocked the door, and then handed the key to Snape.

"There you go, Professor," she said. "Professor Slughorn preferred to have an office on the first floor, he insisted on windows. If you find that would be your preference as well, we can certainly move you once his office is emptied."

Snape looked around at the room. It was quite spacious, somewhat larger than his room at the boarding house had been. The flagstone floor was neatly swept. Wooden shelves, now standing empty, lined its stone walls, but he could picture how they would look, eventually, with his books, notes, and potions ingredients put away. A heavy wooden desk and chair stood at the far end, in front of a large fireplace, and there was ample space remaining should he wish to add a second table and some chairs. A cabinet for storing Potions ingredients stood in one corner. He nodded with satisfaction.

"There will be no need, Professor McGonagall," Snape told her, pocketing his key. "This office suits me well enough."

"Your quarters are through there," she added, waving her wand at a stretch along the left wall without shelving. A door appeared. Snape sent his boxes over and they piled themselves next to the door.

"Why don't you settle in and come by my office when you are ready," Professor McGonagall suggested. "I'll show you around the Potions classroom and stores, and leave you with all of the keys."

"I could come now, if it is convenient for you, Professor," Snape said. He could arrange his things later. Getting into the storeroom and class, his storeroom and class, he reminded himself, was far more appealing.

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, as she led the way out of Snape's office.

***

"So, Severus, Professor McGonagall tells me that you have moved into your quarters," Dumbledore said. It was Monday morning, and Snape was sitting in the Headmaster's office, at his invitation.

"That's right, Professor Dumbledore," Snape confirmed. "I arrived on Saturday morning."

"And you have everything you need to settle in?"

"I completed an inventory of the Potions storeroom over the weekend," Snape said, getting down to business. "It is missing a few ingredients I would prefer to have on hand, and it is low on some others."

"I was inquiring in regards to your accommodations," Dumbledore said, amused, though not surprised. He had understood when he hired Snape that, whatever shortcomings he might prove to have as a teacher, inattention to detail and laziness were not going to be among them.

"However, what you mentioned should be no problem," he added, addressing Snape's concern. "There is a budget for the acquisition of supplies. You should make a request to Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, I shall bring it up with her, then. I am meeting with her this afternoon regarding my duties in Slytherin House," Snape replied.

"How was the move? Uneventful, I hope?" Dumbledore asked.

"I had no problems. Though, an unexpected meeting interrupted my packing," Snape answered, with a significant glance at Dumbledore.

"I understand," Dumbledore said. "Please, do tell me about it."

"I was summoned by the Dark Lord Friday night," Snape began.

"So, there was a meeting of the Death Eaters?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, it was a private interview," Snape replied.

"Was he pleased with your success, then?" Dumbledore asked. A private meeting was an unprecedented occurrence.

"Not initially, no," Snape replied.

Dumbledore gave Snape a long, appraising look. It had been three days ago - the lack of any of the outward signs of Voldemort's displeasure could be due to the time elapsed since then.

"I talked him around. I think," Snape said.

"How so?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was...complicated. I may have convinced him that you hired me because you believed that would buy my services as a spy," Snape said, recapping the Dark Lord's own summary of the conversation.

"I should like to know exactly what transpired," Dumbledore said, an understatement if ever he had uttered one. It occurred to him that, as he was no longer constrained to meet Snape in secret and away from the school, the means to satisfy his curiosity was at hand.

"Yet, it sounds as though you, yourself, are not certain," he added. "Would you consider showing me, instead?"

"Showing you, sir? You mean Legilimency?" Snape asked, confused. "How would seeing my meeting with the Dark Lord provide you with more information than my recollection of what occurred?"

"My apologies for the seeming obscurity," Dumbledore responded. "You are right, of course, that Legilimency has considerable limitations. No, I was referring to a Pensieve."

As he spoke, Dumbledore flicked his wand at the cabinet on the far wall in which he kept the Pensieve.

Turning, Snape saw that the black cabinet standing against the opposite wall was now open. Inside it sat a shallow stone basin engraved around the rim with ancient runes. It contained a substance Snape could not identify, which gave off a bright, silvery light. Whatever it was, it moved ceaselessly, swirling and rippling with no discernible pattern.

"If you are willing, it is possible to place your memory of the meeting into the Pensieve for viewing," Dumbledore explained.

"It would appear across the surface of the ... substance, like a Muggle television?" Snape asked.

"No, it is rather more useful than that," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Once the memory is in the Pensieve, we may enter the memory fully, and move about within it, to experience it with all our senses, just as if we had been there. I would like you to accompany me into your memory, naturally. You might see things you missed, the first time."

"Remarkable," Snape commented, shaking his head in wonder, "I have never read even a hint that such a thing might be possible."

However, as Snape thought through what he had just learned, he was less than enthusiastic about the idea. His accounts to Dumbledore of his activities were always factual, but Dumbledore did not make him relive the more humiliating moments in detail. It made him uncomfortable, this idea of Dumbledore watching him with the Dark Lord. Bowing and scraping, begging for forgiveness...and, he remembered with a shock, making that bitter, furious speech.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers. If he knew Severus, and he rather though that he did by now, Severus's quick mind had grasped the functioning of the Pensieve. His continuing hesitation likely indicated that he had some reservations about its use in this case. There must be something in that memory that he was reluctant to relive, or share.

"If you believe that a summary of the conversation will suffice to communicate what happened," Dumbledore said, "that is good enough for me."

Snape considered his meeting with the Dark Lord. He was not at all sure that the conversation had gone as well as its ending seemed to indicate. Of course, Dumbledore didn't need to know that...but Snape had agreed not to conceal anything of importance that passed between him and the Dark Lord. Very well. Snape looked up at Dumbledore, who was smiling at him pleasantly, waiting for his decision.

"How do I put a memory into the Pensieve?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore rose from his chair, his eyes twinkling. He walked over to the cabinet and removed the Pensieve, setting it down carefully on his desk.

"It should be a simple matter for you, Severus, with the control you have gained over your memories," he explained. "Place your wand tip next to your temple, and recall the start of the meeting. Then gently move the wand away. As you do, recall the ending. This will prevent the removal of later memories."

Snape got out his wand and walked up to the desk. He placed the wand tip at his temple as instructed, and recalled his Apparition into the empty room. As he began to move the wand tip, he saw that a wisp of the substance in the Pensieve appeared to be connecting the wand to his head. As he called to mind his final obeisance to the Dark Lord, it broke off, dangling from his wand tip. He held it over the Pensieve, and it drifted down, becoming one with the swirling, cloud-like contents.

"After you," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Just lean over the bowl, bringing your face closer to it until you feel yourself fall into the memory."

Snape tucked his wand away and leaned over the Pensieve, his hair swinging forward over his face. It seemed that as he did so, the mist grew more transparent, providing a view of a dimly lit room...all at once, it felt as though the floor beneath him lurched and tipped him headfirst into the stone bowl. He fell through blackness, spinning rapidly as he fell, until suddenly, he was standing in the room in which he had met the Dark Lord, looking at himself. His self in the memory showed no reaction to his sudden arrival, his face intent as he scanned the room.

Abruptly, Professor Dumbledore also appeared in the room.

"The Dark Lord will be entering through there," Snape pointed out to him.

Dumbledore turned in the direction indicated, and indeed, a door in the paneled wall opened to reveal the tall, black-robed form of Lord Voldemort. Severus, in his memory, immediately fell to his knees in obeisance.

Meanwhile Snape stepped back to lean against a wall, allowing Dumbledore the better view of the proceedings. The little drama played out much as he remembered it. Free of the fear of making a fatal misstep, he watched the Dark Lord again, though he found his eyes drawn more to himself, as well as to Dumbledore's reactions. Dumbledore watched the scene intently, his face serious, his blue eyes alert for every nuance.

As his memory-self fell at the Dark Lord's feet begging for forgiveness, Snape looked up at the Dark Lord. His snakelike face seemed a mask; it showed no reaction to his memory self's palpable fear. Dumbledore, too, remained impassive, his eyes, like Snape's, on the Dark Lord.

When Snape's memory-self recounted Dumbledore's supposed concern that Snape might endanger the safety of the school, Snape thought he saw a ghost of a smile pass over Dumbledore's face, eerily echoed a moment later by the Dark Lord's horrible expression of amusement.

The moment Snape had dreaded as he agreed to share his memory was next upon him. He saw his memory self, his unlovely face twisted in a rictus of hate, spewing his bitterness at Dumbledore. Dumbledore's face remained intent, no hint of a reaction showing in his expression, his eyes shifting from the Dark Lord to Snape as if to take in every detail.

Then the memory was over. As Snape's memory-self turned on his heel to Disapparate, an unnatural darkness fell in the room. Moments later, Snape felt a light touch on his elbow, and found himself flying upwards, before seemingly flipping over to land with his feet on the floor of Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore stood beside him.

It was clear now why Severus had hesitated to share the memory, at any rate, Dumbledore realized. Best to address it head-on. His blue eyes twinkling behind the half-moon glasses he wore, Dumbledore smiled and said, "That was quite an act you put on, at the end."

The undeserved praise rankled Snape. It was bad enough to have shared that, without being complimented for it.

"I am not that skilled an actor. I doubt one that skilled exists," Snape replied. He added, his face bleak, "The Dark Lord would never have been fooled by a feigned hatred, without the memories and depth of emotion to back it up."

"I see," replied Dumbledore gravely. So, the angry young man who had joined the Death Eaters had been angry with him as well. Even now, after all that had passed between them, he still feared it would be held against him.

In the silence that followed his explanation, Snape considered what he ought to do. Apologize? Explain why he no longer believed all of what he had said? His younger self had been wrong, completely wrong, about Dumbledore, anyway. However unjust Dumbledore's past decisions may have seemed, he had learned, to his great surprise, that Dumbledore had never deemed him worthless, though by the time he had come to Dumbledore for help, he would have merited such a judgment.

"There was a slight inaccuracy in that little speech," Dumbledore said dryly. "As I recall, the reward for sticking your neck in a noose to which you agreed was the occasional glass of sour ale in a disreputable Muggle pub."

"So I did," breathed Snape, feeling as though a weight had been taken off his chest.

"Though I do not begrudge you the raise," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Come, Severus, retrieve your memory and take a seat. I have some questions about what I just saw."

Snape dipped the tip of his wand into the Pensieve and drew it out hesitantly. A wisp of the memory-stuff clung to it. As he brought his wand tip to his temple, Dumbledore nodded encouragingly. Before tucking his wand away, Snape saw that the memory had vanished. He returned to his seat, waiting for Dumbledore's questions.

"Lord Voldemort performed Legilimency as you told him of our supposed conversation, did he not?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, he did, sir," Snape confirmed.

"And yet he seemed to accept your story," Dumbledore commented.

"I believe I was able to provide corroboration by allowing him to see memories of my first meeting with you," Snape replied.

"Clever," Dumbledore said. Also risky, but he would not second-guess Severus, who would have stood to lose the most had the lie been discovered. "Dangerous, but very clever. It covered your lie, certainly. In the long view - it has also made that memory less dangerous to you."

"My admission that I betrayed Bellatrix and the others also helped to shore up the story, I believe, and allowed me to stick close to the truth," Snape added.

"Yes. We are left, then, with the problem that Voldemort will expect some success in your new role," Dumbledore said.

"A problem we would have had regardless of how the Dark Lord believed I obtained the position, Professor," Snape pointed out.

"Indeed," Dumbledore acknowledged. "You handled the situation well. It seems to me that you have bought some time for yourself. Lord Voldemort's suspicions, I would say, are temporarily in abeyance."

He added, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "As I do not habitually regale new staff members with juicy details of my clandestine activities, I suppose it is safe to return to the more mundane topic of your duties here at Hogwarts."