Philomena

***Earth, Ink, and Blood***

Severus awoke well rested. For the first time in months he'd had a night of deep, dreamless sleep. He rolled over and blinked at the wall. The light from the windows threw a grid-like pattern on it and Snape thought it was pretty.

"Not getting up," thought Snape, turning burrowing deeper beneath the covers. "Never getting up, ever again. Going to spend the rest of my life in bed. Forever and ever."

Severus smiled to himself. "And the Dark Lord will come, and say, 'Severus, you barmy fool. Get out of bed and kill some Muggles!' And I'll say, 'Leave me alone, you power hungry bastard, I'm sleeping!' and so he'll sigh, and go away."

He watched the patterns on his wall flicker. "And then Dumbledore will stick his nose into things, and say, 'But, Severus, you can't stay in bed. You have students, and spying, and potions...' and I'll say, 'Leave me alone you twinkle eyed bastard, I'm sleeping!". He'll offer me a sherbet, but I'll be sleeping, so he'll leave."

A knock came on the door. A clearly nervous and undecided knock which said. A knock which made it plane that were it not for the circumstances, the knocker would probably be miles away. Potter.

"Damnit," muttered Severus, pulling himself out of bed. "And when Harry Potter walks in, I'll jump up and say, 'Welcome, anything you say. I wasn't asleep. This isn't inconveniencing me in the slightest.'"

He threw a robe over his nightshirt and shuffled into his slippers. He blinked at his bedside clock. Noon. No wonder the boy thought it would be all right to say hello. Well, Mr. Potter was in for a surprise.

"Yes, coming," called Severus exasperatedly, as another knock sounded.

He stumbled out of his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Crossing his sitting room quickly and threw the door open to reveal Potter, as he'd guessed.

Harry looked pensive. "Sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I have to tell you something."

Snape interrupted the boy with a glare. "Come in out of that drafty hallway before somebody sees you, Potter," he snapped. "I've half a mind to take points."

Ushering the boy in, Snape sank onto the couch, taking a sadistic pleasure in the fact that there was no other chair in the room.

Harry squatted awkwardly beside the couch. "It's... I've had a dream."

"So did I, about a minute ago," groused Snape. "It was very nice."

Harry didn't seem to hear him but rattled on. "It was more of a Vision. A Vision about you. I normally tell Dumbledore about these things, but I thought, that since it was you, you ought to know first... and..."

"About me?"

"Yes. It was... blood." Harry struggled to explain, gesturing vaguely with his hands in front of him. "You were... and Voldemort was... that is to say, the blood was..."

"Mr. Potter," snapped Snape. "If you must relate your daydreams to me, kindly do so coherently at a decent time of day."

"I...it's hard to explain," said Harry. "I don't rightly understand what I saw. It was very disturbing, though. I think you'd understand it, since it was about you in the first place."

"What exactly did you see?" asked Snape, interested now. The blood was, perhaps, something of what Voldemort had gathered for his 'masterpiece.' Perhaps, this 'dream,' held the answer.

"That's just it, sir." The boy was desperately mangling his fingers together. "I don't know! I know it was about you. But that's all. I don't understand any of it. I was going to keep my mouth shut about it when it happened last week because I didn't understand it, and I wasn't sure it wasn't just a nightmare, but it's happened again, and now it got even more vivid..."

"What got more vivid?" asked Severus in exasperation.

"The dream, vision, whatever you want to call it. It... wasn't like anything that could have actually happened..."

"Perhaps," said Severus, "if you could... show me what happened."

"Show you?" The boy was bewildered and showed it.

Damnit, thought Snape, would the boy never learn to control his face? He was as readable from twenty paces even without Legilimency.

Severus arose and shuffled to a cabinet. He unlocked it and brought out a stone bowl which seemed oddly familiar to Harry.

Harry blinked and jumped up. Snape. Professor Snape, was in his pajamas! Sweet Merlin, wonders would never cease.

"Er..." said Harry, "Professor, did I ... wake you?"

"You did," said Snape, setting the Pensieve down. "One word about my being in bed at this hour, and I will personally see to it that -"

"That what?" demanded his student. "That I'm expelled? That Dumbledore knows I've been learning things I shouldn't? That he finds out I've got a dozen illegal books in my bag? Books from you?"

Snape grinned predatorily. "No," he said, "but I will see to it that Ms. Granger finds out..."

Harry blanched. "She'd kill me," he whispered.

"Now," said Snape, back to business, "put your wand to your temple. Concentrate deeply on the memory of the Vision. Use your wand to grasp it, and pull it out of your head into the bowl. Please don't drip on my carpet. The stains are dreadful and the Restorative Spells give me a headache."

Harry nodded once, getting out his wand. He took a deep breath and put it to his temple concentrating on what had just happened in the Common Room. Magic clawed into his brain, grabbing hold. Harry pulled down his wand, swishing it over the Pensieve.

The silver thread of thought fell with a sickening sort of "flimoosh," into the bowl. Harry watched it swirl, adding to whatever thoughts Snape had left there.

It was odd, he thought to himself, he could remember that he'd had a dream and that he'd come to Snape about it. He could remember that he'd put the memory of that dream into the bowl, but for the life of him he couldn't remember just what that dream had been.

Snape rolled up his sleeves, got out his own wand and touched the surface of the Pensieve with it. Harry watched in rapt fascination as Snape seemed to split into two Snapes, like the diagrams of cell division he'd seen in Muggle Science class.

The original Snape stayed stock still where he was holding his wand to the Pensieve. Snape number two, who was slightly transparent, was pulled into the bowl with a schloop and disappeared.

Harry blinked. So that was what it looked like when seen from the outside. He remembered being pulled into Pensieves himelf and had always wondered how people had known where he was. Apparently, his body had remained standing there looking slightly foolish, while his mind had gone skinny-dipping.

Snape felt himself being pulled into the Pensieve. He found himself in the Gryffindor Common Room. The Potter Boy and Weasley Number Six were playing chess. Snape sighed. The idiot hadn't cut off the memory correctly. He'd have to wait until Potter fell asleep to get to the dream he'd been woken up for.

"So," said Weasley, "if you move your knight there, I'll just bring my queen up there and take it. Then, you'll be stupid and take my queen so I'll move in with my knight and take your bishop. You'll retaliate and take my bishop, which will leave me free to checkmate you. So why don't you give up now and admit that I've won?"

Potter shrugged. "But what if I do this?"

Snape never did figure out just what 'this' had been, since Potter suddenly stiffened in his seat. Weasley jumped up and ran around the table. "You all right, mate?" he asked. "What-"

Potter let out a hacking cry of pain and threw his head back against the edge of the chair.

"Damnit!" cursed Weasley, dithering between running for help and staying to make sure his friend was all right. Snape was sorely tempted to take points for language.

Severus let out an involuntary cry as he suddenly found himself in Potter's dreamscape.

Tom Riddle was running through an open field, his arms out as though flying. The sky was threatening rain and lightning flickered. Magical energy crackled. Snape pursed his eyebrows in concentration. Why, was the Dark Lord in his original form?

He knew also, that Pensieves caused a disjointed third person perspective. The only other person in the dreamscape was Riddle meaning that, originally, Harry's dream had been seen through his eyes. Why?

Thunder rolled and lightning, green lightning, struck Riddle. Riddle crumpled to the grass, in a heap of red robes. Snape saw himself come out of nowhere and run towards the boy.

"Master," he heard himself say, kneeling and cradling Riddle's head. "Master... I told you, the blood was not strong enough..."

Riddle's body melted in his arms, becoming a pool of ink.

Snape saw himself run his fingers through the black liquid. It began to rain, and the ink began to sink into the earth. Potter's hands fought up from the center of the puddle, and gradually the boy emerged from the earth itself.

"Professor... the blood... the earth... the power..." Potter grabbed hold of Snape and pulled him down into the ink.

Snape watched in horror, as his dream self fell and melted into a bloody mess dripping through Potter's fingers. Harry screamed and scuttled backwards as though Snape's blood has burned him.

The blood and the ink swirled in a puddle of Magically crackling essence. Thunder rolled, and another bolt of lightning, green lightning, struck the blood- and rebounded into the sky with a horrid crackle.

The blood and the ink, still swirling in impossible patterns rose up from the earth, and formed a solid wall, encasing Potter in a swirling mass of something. Potter beat his fists ineffectually against the wall, as it forced him down, back into the earth. As soon as Potter had been ground into the earth, the wall became liquid once more and dissolved in the rain.

Thunder rolled and Snape found himself thrown into an underground cavern. Potter was lying on a block of solid marble, arms crossed over his breast, his face the serene mask of death. He was wrapped in robes of blinding white and a nearly transparent cloth covered him from head to foot.

Echoes filled the room, in a confusing jumble of sound:

Safe, he's safe as can be safe, he's safe as can be safe, he's safe as can be you know. He's lived, once more. Suspended animation, Remus, you know what that means! Poppy! It's Severus- he's been killed, but he's not dead. Tom? Professor? Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more. Triumph. Defeat. Safe, he's safe as he can be safe as he can be safe... safe... Avada Kedavra! Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more. Snape, take the charm! Tom? Snape, take the charm! Snape, take the charm! Triumph. Defeat. Avada Kedavra! Blood magic is as dark as it gets. Avada Kedavra! Blood magic is as dark as it gets. Blood magic is as dark as it gets. Tom? But, Dumbledore, if Voldemort has my blood... you know. He's lived, once more. But, Dumbledore, if Avada Kedavra! Voldemort has my blood... Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more. Triumph. Defeat. But, Dumbledore, if Voldemort has my blood... Freak! I'll not have you in my house! Avada Kedavra! Suspended animation, Remus, you know what that means! Poppy! It's Severus- he's been killed, but he's not dead. But he's not dead. Tom? Professor? Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more. Triumph. Defeat. Safe, he's safe as he can be safe as he can be safe... safe... Avada Kedavra!

The jumble of whispers from different voices was overwhelming. Time and time again, Snape thought he recognized a voice, or a phrase from something he knew, but it was like trying to recognize snowflakes while they where falling.

Suspended animation, Remus, you know what that means! Poppy! It's Severus- he's been killed, but he's not dead. Tom? Professor? Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more. Triumph. Defeat. Safe, he's safe as he can be safe as he can be safe... safe... Avada Kedavra!

Shadows flitted through the room throwing light and dark patterns on the boy's motionless face. Even his hair seemed for once to have no movement in it. Potter's glasses were nowhere to be seen, nor was his wand in sight.

Severus- he's been killed, but he's not dead. Tom? Professor? Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more. Triumph. Defeat. Safe, he's safe as he can be safe as he can be safe... safe... Avada Kedavra! Potter's dead you know. He's lived, once more.

The whispers became louder, more insistent, and the shadows darker and more demanding. Whispers became a cacophony of cries and yells. Shadows triumphed and the room was plunged into absolute darkness. Yells culminated into a single shriek of profound despair. The darkness was oppressive, as though the shadows had taken on physical form, and filled the room to suffocate whatever life was left from the body laid out on the tomb.

Suddenly, a blinding white light filled the room as the boy began to glow. His body levitated up from the slab and hovered in midair, growing brighter and brighter -

Severus found himself back in Hogwarts, where Harry Potter was blinking at the bright lights of the common room.

"Are you all right?" asked Weasley, seeing that Harry was back with him.

"It's nothing," said Potter, getting up and moving quickly to the door. "I have to speak to Dumbledore. I'll tell you later. Not a word to a soul."

The memory was over and Severus felt himself floating back up, out of the silver pudding of Potter's thought. He came back to himself with a jerk and pulled his wand away from the bowl.

He turned to stare into the eyes of the Boy Who Lived. For a moment he was at a loss for what to say.

"Well?" asked Harry. "Have you any idea what it could mean?"

"You'd better get your memory back before I try and tell you about it," groused Snape. "Get it out of my Pensieve. I won't have it contaminating my childhood dreams."

"Er... how?" asked Potter.

Snape sighed. "Place your wand in the bowl, concentrating on the void where the memory ought to be. Grab it, and draw it back out of the bowl, pull it back into your mind."

Potter did as he was told, grimacing as the memory filtered through his brain. His eyes widened as he remembered what he'd seen. He stared back at Snape and asked, "Do you have any idea what it means?"

Snape thought back to the blood he had given the Dark Lord. He remembered filtering through Dolohov's mind to find out that the man had been given charge of his blood, along with Lestrange. He mentally ran through all he knew about Blood Magic and the myriad things that could go wrong. Mostly he thought of the way Potter had looked so triumphant on his tomb, although at the same time irredeemably dead.

"No," he lied. "It tells me nothing whatsoever."

Potter's face fell, and he hunched his shoulders, looking at the floor. "I'm ... I'm sorry for waking you up for nothing, then," he said. "It must just have been an odd dream..."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "In the middle of the afternoon?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," the boy muttered. "I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I've dropped off at stranger hours."

Snape frowned. "We can't have you dropping off to sleep in the middle of your annual face off with the Dark Lord, now, can we? Are you fighting sleep? To escape the dreams?"

Potter avoided his gaze. "I... I try to sleep, honestly, professor. It's just that..."

"As soon as you close your eyes you see destruction and death on your eyelids," said Snape softly. "Yes, I know."

Potter looked up, startled. "That sounded almost... poetic."

Snape glared as if to say that the next time Potter mentioned poetry and his Potions Professor in the same sentence it would be slow and painful death by mortar and pestle.

"I can get you some Dreamless Sleep," he mused. "It wouldn't help against those dreams and visions sent by your connection to the Dark Lord, though it would block out the rest."

Harry nodded. "And if I knew Occlumency well enough, I'd be able to block those, too," he said sadly.

Snape smiled nastily. "We shall see about that tomorrow, Potter. Get back to your dormitory. I want to accomplish something before the day is quite over."

***A Father***

Severus was working, surprisingly enough, at his official job. He was grading a nasty quiz he'd given his third years. "Not for you, My Lord," sighed Severus. "And not for you, Oh Mighty Albus the Conqueror, but for you, Gentlemen of the School board."

Severus dipped his quill in red ink. He made half a circle. Staring at it, he wondered what the world had come to. A sigh escaped him, as he made another half circle, joining the first. He contemplated what he'd just done: He'd given a Hufflepuff the only O.

"Can't be helped," he said to himself. "The Gryffindors and the Slytherins were concentrating on their upcoming Quidditch match, the Ravenclaws... Merlin knows what took their concentration. - Oh, yes. They'd had Astronomy the night before, tired out of their minds, no doubt. And so, Hufflepuff conquers all."

He pushed the offending paper to the side and put his head in his hands. Out of twenty-one Hufflepuffs, thirty-four Ravenclaws, twenty-six Gryffindors and forty Slytherins, only one O and it had to go to a Hufflepuff. He would have to give them all a talking to, especially young Harold. If anybody of that year's batch had a remote possibility of ever becoming a master, it was he.

"Stupid boy," he grumbled. "You'll ruin my reputation. I can't favor a Hufflepuff."

The roar of his Floo interrupted him. "Yes, Albus," he called. "Be there in a moment."

Hopefully, Potter hadn't gone and told the Headmaster that Severus had been in his pajamas at noon. If he had, Severus was going to throttle him.

As luck would have it, throttling the Savior was not in order. It was Philomena.

"Ah," he said, sinking cross-legged before the hearth, "Ms. Lupin. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm sorry to intrude, sir," she said, "but I just received this in the mail. From my Uncle."

She handed him a fairly large flask. "I should have realized before that he would send me more of the Potion," she sighed. "After all, he thinks Remus is too stupid to realize there's something wrong."

Severus took it. "Wonderful," he said. "I have been giving the matter some thought, but frankly, it's that much easier to discover a counter Potion, when you have the original. Thank you."

"Oh," remarked Philomena, "I should be thanking you for helping me. And... and for what you did for my father."

"You didn't tell him, I hope," he said, thinking uncomfortably of his panic attack.

"Of course not," she said. "I promised, did I not? Besides, he isn't in a condition to be talked to. He slept a good deal this morning which is understandable, but then he had such horrific nightmares that I gave him Dreamless Sleep. He's sleeping like a baby now."

Snape sighed and hefted the bottle in his hands. "Last time I made something for you, I didn't bother to test you before hand, because an allergic reaction was nearly impossible, considering that you were a Seer and immune to the negative effects of most of the ingredients. However, you now have completely unique blood in your veins. Frankly, that throws a whole new variable into anything I might create. I will have to have a sample from you, so that I can make sure that nothing goes horribly wrong."

She grimaced. "I'll send you a bit," she said. "If you give me a few minutes to get it. Ralf did ask for one. I... frankly, I don't know how to get out of it."

"Don't send it," said Snape immediately. "I'll think of something."

"I ... don't tell father will you?" she asked. "When he's well, I mean. I don't want to worry him and he's got so much on his mind already, what with all the wards the committee has him working on..."

"What your father doesn't know won't hurt him," said Snape. "I trust your Uncle sent you the usual instrument for the sample?"

She nodded.

"Good. Fill it a third and get me the result. In the meantime, I'll find something to send back to Ralf that'll allay his suspicions."

"Yes, sir," she said, "and thank you again."

"My pleasure," he said dryly.

She smiled, and with a roar of green flames she was gone.

Severus hefted the bottle in his hands and sniffed at it cautiously. Frowning, he left his office and hurried into his lab. He placed it on his workbench and cast an eye out for the remaining Kalgra blood he'd taken to make her first Potion.

Quickly, he filled a blood-taking instrument with it, frowning as he did so, remembering how he'd wished he'd had one on him when the Dark Lord had demanded a sample. His gaze fell upon a jar he'd forgotten in all that had happened - the Nundu's Breath. He would have to have that taken care of, he thought, before something horrid exploded in the laboratory, causing the jar to break and release its contents, which could wipe out the entire student body of Hogwarts...

Filing "Give Nundu's Breath to Albus," in his extensive to-do list, he hurried back into his office. "The Kalgra blood is Seer enough to fool the man," he muttered, "or at least I hope so. Merlin knows he won't test it on himself. Probably won't test it at all, if I know their operation. Not a decent price in the shop and half the products of dubious quality..."

While he waited for her return, he quickly recorded the students' grades in his records book, and again in the reports he would have to file to Albus and Minerva. "Damnable Hufflepuff," he muttered again. "How did you learn so well?"

The Floo roared to life again; Philomena's head floated in the flames.

"Oh, do come in all the way," he grumbled. "I have an aversion to talking to disembodied heads."

She smirked and ducked out of his fireplace. A moment later, she whirled in all the way. Descending onto his hearth with a grace that was normally forbidden by the conditions Floo travel, she entered the room.

"Sit down, please," he said. "And tell me, just what did this uncle of yours write you?"

Philomena sighed. "Oh, the usual: Give me your blood, take your Potion, and Floo over to have the Spells done tomorrow at six..."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And you plan to avoid this meeting how?"

She shrugged. "I'll just have to go, won't I?" she said. "Unless somebody has a better idea. I don't want to worry father with it, seeing as he's taking the Moon so badly."

He grimaced. "He shouldn't be," he mused. "I can't imagine what went wrong with that Potion, but perhaps if I'd been a bit more alert..."

"Nothing permanently damaging happened," she said firmly. "At least, nothing that I can see now. It wasn't your fault. Don't torture yourself over it. Good Lord, do I have to spend all day soothing the insecurities of you two?"

He raised an eyebrow.

She looked sheepishly back at him. "I'm sorry for snapping," she said. "It's just that father was going on for a good age about how sorry he was, and how much it'd been his fault before I got him to calm down and drink some tea."

"Back to your Uncle," Severus said. "Give him this. It's Kalgra and probably Seer enough for any tests he gives it."

She took the bottle with a small shudder and handed him her own.

"I'm sorry I had to ask for it," he sighed. "I hated using them as a child. Still can't abide needles."

"You too?"

He nodded. "Nothing you need to know. As to your little appointment... miss it. Tell me where to go and I'll handle things from there."

She blinked. "But what will you...?"

She trailed off, not finishing the question on account of the glare he'd sent her.

"Now," he said, "I'll take a look into this Potion and see what I can do. You get back to your ailing mother before he figures out you're gone, or somebody comes by and demands to know what the bloody hell you're doing in my office."

She gasped. "You knew?"

He stiffened. Damnit. He'd forgotten she wasn't supposed to know about the circumstances of her birth. I knew it, he thought to himself, I knew my sarcasm would get me into trouble one day...

"Yes," he said, "he told me, but -"

She stared at him starting to smile slightly. "You didn't know I knew, did you?"

He shook his head.

"Ralf's Pensieve had some rather nasty and disturbing little bits of family history in it," she said. "And I'd rather not go into that. Still, it's funny to think that I have, in effect, two fathers."

"No," he said. "A Sire and a Dam."

She giggled. "A Dam-Father. Sounds horridly like I'm swearing, doesn't it?"

"Your dam-father had better take better care of you than your other damned father did," he said, breaking into a grin.

"You horrible man," she laughed. "I won't be able to look him in the face now forever. I'll just think "dam-father," whenever I see him. I won't be able to be respectful at all."

"If your dam-father asks," he said, "tell him you came here for a Potions lesson."

She was still giggling. "If you teach me," she said, "as a private tutor, you sponsor me, so to speak, which makes you my patron. And a patron is sort of a parent, which would make you my third father..."

A flash of inspiration struck Severus. Far better than a foolish joke, this was something he could use in his plan to fool the Order. If, when she was restored to her proper form, and she was introduced to the Order, she called Severus by some ridiculous pet name they would the better fall into his trap.

"So many fathers," he said, keeping his tone carefully light, "however will you tell them apart?"

"Well," she said, "Ralf is my damned father, and Remus is my dam-father, and you...?"

"Just call me Daddy," said Severus sarcastically.

As he'd planned, she took to the idea at once thinking it would irk him.

"Daddy," she teased.

Severus smiled to himself. If there was one thing the Marauders had taught him, it was that the more one objected to a nickname, the more it stuck.

"Don't call me that," he snapped. "It's most improper."

"Yes, Daddy," she smirked, getting off the couch. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He frowned with his most intimidating glare in place.

"Good bye, Daddy," she said, taking a handful of Floo powder, "you must get back to your work and I to my dam-father."

Severus took a deep breath, taking care to look as though he was trying to keep his temper in check, when, in reality, he was happy that his makeshift plan had worked. "If you experience symptoms of withdrawal, such as crankiness or headaches, see me immediately," he ordered. "Not a word to your dam-father about what just happened, you know how he feels about Blood Magic. I'll Owl or Floo when I've any results worth speaking of. Good day."

"Good day, Daddy!" With a last taunting laugh, she disappeared into the flames, calling, "Remus John Lupin's Cottage."

***The Headmaster***

Snape scowled at his Ingremeter. It was taking far longer than usual to analyze the Potion sample he'd given it. Normally, he would give it an ounce or two and have a neatly written ingredients list a minute later. It had been nearly half an hour.

"What's wrong with the blasted thing?" he muttered.

He checked it for the dozenth time. Yes, the instrument was well oiled. Yes, it had plenty of Energy. Yes, it was switched on. No, it wouldn't give him a reading.

Suddenly, the door to his lab creaked open. Albus strode into the room. "Good morning, Severus."

"It is afternoon, Albus," said Severus shortly.

"Well, my boy," said Albus, "you didn't show at breakfast or lunch, so I simply figured you were asleep. Have you anything to report?"

Severus sighed. He kept fiddling with the Ingremeter, playing for a bit of time to think. Albus apparently thought his late night scramble to get Remus his Wolfsbane had been a Death Eater meeting. Not that there hadn't been one right before that, but there hadn't really been anything said. Simply a check for loyalty, as usual.

"As a matter of fact," said Severus carefully, "I have a good deal to report."

"Would you like to come up to my office?"

Severus shook his head and continued to fiddle with the Ingremeter.

Albus smiled. "If it isn't giving you a reading, it could be because the potion is under an Incognito. A simple Finite Incantatem ought to alleviate the problem."

Severus groaned and restrained himself from hitting his head against the wall. Wordlessly he removed the Potion from the machine, cast the Charm, and poured it back. He flicked the switch. The Ingremeter began to hum.

"I assume, of course," said Dumbledore, "that you missed meals for something other than a mad desire to loose weight."

Severus grabbed the reading as it emerged from the machine and quickly pocketed it before Dumbledore had a chance to look over his shoulder.

"I'll be right back," he said, before disappearing into the back room of his laboratory. He returned momentarily carefully cradling the glass jar of Nundu's breath.

"I've recovered this," he said shortly, handing it over.

Dumbledore curiously began to open the lid but Severus flew over to his side with a cry of horror. "Don't open it!"

Albus looked up in alarm.

"It's Nundu's breath," explained Severus quickly. "It could wipe out the whole school if you do that."

The Headmaster paled and stared at the flimsy jar in his hands with a respectful horror, before gingerly placing it a nearby desk.

"He wanted it used on Diagon Alley," lied Severus. "Using one of his unmarked junior expendables to release it. I've Obliviated the poor lad and sent him too some friends for safety."

"Is he... likely to obtain more?" asked Dumbledore.

Severus restrained himself from smirking. Keeping his face carefully set on 'concerned,' he replied, "I doubt it. It is extremely difficult to obtain without dying, and the species has been nearly eradicated. It was an accident, sheer serendipity that this specimen was obtained. He isn't interested in procuring more, simply extremely agitated that it didn't work."

"Is he looking at other avenues of mass killing?"

"He's a Dark Wizard," said Severus dryly. "That's does happen to be his specialty."

"I'll have to find a place to keep this safe," mused Dumbledore. "Perhaps Gringotts..."

"We both know what good that did us last time," said Severus.

"And forbidding corridors to students practically guarantees that they'll go into them," said Dumbledore. "The only places they fear or cannot access are your quarters, your lab, and the Chamber of Secrets."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to have Potter get involved in this?" asked Severus. "If you tell that boy 'don't open this jar,' it's the first thing he'll do. Especially since you have a strange habit of not telling him the whole truth."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "I am an old man," he said, "and I make mistakes."

Severus sighed. "Headmaster," he said, "If you warded your office properly, we could keep it there."

"Why not here?" asked Albus. "Your offices are about as attractive as a torture chamber as far as the students are concerned, and even for most of the staff."

"Might I remind you that I teach that infernal child Occlumency in one of those rooms?" snarled Severus. "That usually involves a great deal being broken or damaged in his usual temper fits."

Albus closed his eyes and sighed as he usually did when presented with a problem he did not wish to deal with.

"Yes, I know," said Severus. "There's no other safe place to teach him and I'll just have to Repairo everything. Unfortunately, this can't be repaired if broken. I would hate to have to explain the Boy Who Lived's death by plague to the Dark Lord, though I suppose I wouldn't have to, being dead myself. Would you have a jolly time of it explaining the death of your entire student body, and perhaps half of Hogsmead, to Rita Skeeter?"

Albus drew his eyebrows together. "We'll have to find somewhere safe to keep it," he said. "And you know very well I keep my office un-Warded except for a password for the convenience of certain members of the staff who occasionally have to get into it when on the verge of collapse."

"I suggest, then," said Snape, "we bring it along to the next Order meeting. Somebody there must have a secure location, or we can simply secure it at Grimmauld place."

"That is," said Dumbledore dangerously, "if certain members don't let in strange people to get other members killed."

Snape's anger flared and he allowed it to show. "Might I remind you, Albus," he said with enough venom in his voice to peel paint, "that the place is under Fidelius! If anybody 'let' him in, it had to have been you."

"Fidelius can be broken!" shouted Dumbledore. "By whatever means Voldemort used last time!"

"For the last time, Dumbledore," Snape said with forced calm, his anger radiating from him in silent waves. "Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters. There was no Magical breakthrough on the Dark Lord's part. Pettigrew was not cursed. He was not and is not under Imperius. He was not forced. He betrayed you of his own free will!"

Dumbledore's last vestige of twinkle left his eyes. "Peter would never," he said. "How far does you hate go, Severus? The man has been in hiding for years. What more can you want?"

"Peter did," returned Severus. "How far will your trust go? He's been helping the Dark Lord for years. What more proof can you want? He cut off his right hand to raise the Dark Lord from the dead!"

"Where would you be if I didn't have trust?" asked Dumbledore. "Where would Hagrid be? Where would Alastor be?"

"I don't know, Albus," answered Snape heavily, "but I do know this. Blind trust leads men into strange places, none of them good. I admit I don't understand your reasoning. You trust Peter. You trusted Crouch. You don't trust me."

"I do trust you, Severus," protested Dumbledore.

"Might I remind you, Headmaster," said Snape wearily, "that you have just accused me of betraying the Order, lying to you for years, and hiding a Magical breakthrough of immense proportions?"

"I'm not blind," insisted Dumbledore.

"Just selectively," Severus muttered under his breath.

Dumbledore was about to reply, when an owl swooped into the room, through the specialty wards on the ceiling, and deposited a neat scroll tied with red ribbon at Severus' feet. Albus reached for it, but Severus was quicker. He untied it, tossed the ribbon aside and shook it open.

Daddy,
Back room of Leaky Cauldron. Tell the Bartender you would like to hear some fiddle music. He will let you in. They will expect me in about an hour's time. Usually two men, both blond, and relatively short.
Philomena.

Snape tucked the paper into his pocket and grabbed his wand from a side table. "I have to go, be back at dinner."

Without another word, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it into the flames and stepped in. "Diagon Alley!"