The Sybil's Oracle Book Two

Chapter 28

By Pigwidgeon37

The letter bearing the Hogwarts crest was already waiting for Severus when he returned home. He had barely broken the seal when he felt the familiar tugging of the Dark Mark. Lestrange had already informed Voldemort, then. The game was on, and the stakes were high. There was a very small but still realistic possibility that Lestrange might volunteer to take the job- considering that he seemed to share his wife with Voldemort, the Dark Lord might not be disinclined to having her all for himself and dispatching her husband towards celibacy in northern Scotland. On the other hand, The Very Secret Order of the Phoenix also had a trump card, if a dangerous one: Lestrange was the one their Master wanted at his side, and not Severus, Owen or Lucius. They were useful, but St. John was the undisputed dauphin, for he was easier to control. However, the thought of Lestrange's return to Hogwarts made Severus shudder. Dumbledore had yielded to the peremptory request of the school's Board of Governors because it fitted into his plans. Now that the Headmaster knew about Lestrange's role, he was never going to hire him. And he was well able to stand his ground against the school governors, if he wanted to. Only in that case, Lucius would have to pay the price, and Severus had his doubts as to whether he would survive it.

He quickly went upstairs to retrieve his Death Eater uniform, threw on his robes and cloak and, after gently wrestling his mask from Elias's beak-the raven always tried to play with it, probably attracted by the metallic shimmer-he briefly caressed the shiny black feathers, put on the mask and touched his Dark Mark.

Lucius and Lestrange were already there, both looking tense, and Owen arrived only seconds after Severus. They had to wait some minutes for Voldemort's entrance. He appeared, clad in black robes, with Tabitha in his wake. She, too, was wearing black. The cut of her robes reminded of the traditional women's clothing of the Arabian peninsula, although the neckline was definitely too deep for the chaste standards of Muslim women. No, Severus thought, she looked more like Salome, eternal temptress, beguiling childlike incarnation of sensuality, who would willingly show herself to her stepfather in all her naked glory, only to see the execution of a man who had denied her admiration. Tabitha's sleek black hair was arranged in an elaborate coiffure, held by golden barrettes that were the only touch of colour in this picture of perfect black and white.

Severus carefully scrutinized Lestrange's face during the few seconds between the opening of the door and the four men's prostrate greeting of their Master, but was unable to detect any sign of distress or jealousy. Merlin help them if the man was ready to abandon his wife and return to Hogwarts, so he could work the rich soil of young minds and reap new Death Eaters by the dozen.

"You may rise," Voldemort's voice told them. He had already taken his seat- Severus noticed that it was new, or maybe he just had not been aware of the change last time he was here. The chair was a little higher than the others, more massive and made of ebony with gold fittings on both sides of the backrest and on the legs. A throne, or something very akin to a throne, at least if compared to the rather Spartan wooden chairs the others had to sit on. Tabitha had moved to sit near the fireplace; obviously her voice was not going to be heard during today's, or rather tonight's, deliberations.

"We have come together," Voldemort began, "to discuss a matter of the utmost importance. For the first time since Karkaroff, that cowardly deserter who was too weak to face my righteous wrath, has left Hogwarts, we will have the possibility to introduce a spy into Albus Dumbledore's close vicinity. Lucius has done great service to us all by filling his father's place within the Board of Governors and proving a more than worthy successor. At the first meeting he attended, he has achieved what hitherto seemed impossible: Dumbledore has been forced to fill the vacant position of the Hogwarts Potions Master, who will also be Head of the House of Slytherin."

Lucius gave a scant smile and bowed his head, while Severus managed a suitable expression of dawning comprehension and pulled the letter he had received from his pocket. He put it on the table and watched Owen's expression of complete awe with satisfaction. They had grown into their roles rather quickly.

"Ah," said Voldemort, "I see that you, too, have received a missive from Dumbledore. This makes our decision a lot easier."

Lestrange nodded and cast a quick glance over to Tabitha, who smiled. So maybe they could all relax, Severus thought. It would not be wise to accept too gladly, though. The merest hint of resistance might earn him another punishment but prove very useful to their cause. "My Lord, may I speak?" he asked, and Voldemort nodded his assent. "I am not sure whether I will be able to fulfil all my duties to you, My Lord, were I to accept Dumbledore's offer."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and gleamed red, and Severus felt a pang of apprehension. "Your duties? Which duties are you alluding to?"

"I am sorry, My Lord, I was confused and didn't express my thoughts well. I suppose it will be difficult for me to take the part I desire to take in our operations, because-"

"Your desires," Voldemort cut him off, "are of no importance here."

Severus bowed his head. It seemed that the bait had gone down well. "I apologize, My Lord, but I only wish to serve you well and-"

"You will serve our Master better if you abide by his wishes, Severus," came Lestrange's sharp retort. "I would gladly have abandoned. everything-" his eyes briefly darted towards Tabitha "-and volunteered to return to Hogwarts. But it is Lord Voldemort's wish that you become their Potions Master, and so you will comply."

"Indeed," Voldemort agreed. "If there was a possibility for you to teach at Urqhart, Severus, I might even have offered you a choice. But you are far too young. Besides, think of all the new followers you will be able to recruit if you play your cards well. And with time, you might even gain Dumbledore's trust, so that you might give us important information about the movements of his group."

"Of course, My Lord. Thank you for your trust. Believe me, I will do my best. Do you have any wishes as to when I should begin?"

"No. I think we may safely presume that Dumbledore will want you to start as soon as possible. Lucius?"

Lucius nodded. "Yes, My Lord, we made it clear that the new Potions teacher had to assume his duties before the end of term, so as to provide at least a modicum of knowledge to those who are going to finish their schooling in June."

"Very well. I suggest that you leave now, Severus, and answer your letter immediately. We do not want anybody else to respond before you do."

Severus rose, his heart heavy with relief. Without looking at the others, he moved over to his Master, to kneel down at his feet. When he raised his head, Voldemort's right hand was hovering in front of his eyes. He took it and briefly pressed his forehead against the cool skin, almost suffocated by his tears. This gesture was his goodbye, it was the knife that severed a thread, which, for so many years, had given a meaning to his life. The thread had become thin, but albeit worn and on the verge of breaking, it had still conserved some warmth and colour, and bound him to the world. He broke the contact, and the umbilical cord was cut once and for all. He had crossed the threshold, and what lay behind him had suddenly vanished into nothingness. There was no turning back now, for if he so much as flinched he would fall into that black abyss. Before him lay a future he had chosen out of necessity. Because nobody must gain the power Voldemort was craving. He, though, was left with empty hands. Instead of a warm, pulsing thread, all he had now was cold and colourless. A life he did not desire, serving a purpose he knew was right but dictated by cool, bleak logic. His hell, a desert of ice, where his punishment would be the constant doubt whether he had chosen the right path, and the certainty that he had to walk on it alone.

The feeling of leaden despair was so oppressing that he could hardly get to his feet. Lucius was glancing at him with raised eyebrows; Owen frowned at him. Severus gave a brief nod, turned on his heels and left the room.

~~~~*~~~~

Dumbledore's letter of acceptance arrived two days later, confirming that he was to take up his duties as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin on 1 May 1979. The Headmaster also advised him to arrive a few days early, in order to establish his new home at the school and discuss lesson plans and other arrangements with the faculty. If possible, reading those words made Severus's mood become even gloomier. His new home! He would never be at home at Hogwarts. True, he had regarded it as his home for almost seven years, but things had changed such a lot since he had graduated. He tried to tell himself that it did not matter where he lived. After all, from the day the Law Enforcement had raided his house and killed Esmeralda, he had ceased to feel at home even here. But despite all those adversities he now tried to use as arguments that might soothe his regrets, this house had at least been a place of undisturbed privacy, to which some of his happier memories were linked. He did not have to give it up; on the contrary, he planned on returning whenever possible. Impossible, though, to fool himself with these promises he was making to himself. He knew what the house would be like once he had taken his more important possessions with him: it would resemble the villa in Italy, soulless, book-less, four walls with a roof on top that happened to belong to him. Whereas the walls that would from now on house his belongings were not his own. A symbol of his life, where everything had been torn apart and pieced together the wrong way; an agglomerate of fragments that were not wrong in themselves but were hopelessly glued to each other to form a bizarre mosaic of failure.

In the morning of 26 April, he was ready to go, after a sleepless night spent in the surroundings that seemed to tell him clearly that he did not belong here anymore. In a way, he thought, it was even better. He felt pain, but at least no more than a vestige of regret at having to abandon his former home. His books, clothes, laboratory equipment, stereo and records and some other indispensable items were resting, shrunk carefully, in two large wooden crates, which he had already levitated outside. Elias had been told where to go and already preceded his master northwards.

"Very well, Peggy," Severus said, unsure of his voice and feeling humiliated, because emotions assaulted him so violently when he merely had to say goodbye to a House Elf, "Give me that parchment, so I can undo the binding spell."

The elf grinned broadly up at him. "This is not a nice joke, Master Severus. You wants to give Peggy a fright, but I knows better than that."

"I'm afraid I'm not joking," he replied, frowning at her. "You don't belong to me, so I have to set you free." He cringed when tears began to form in the large green eyes. "Come on, Peggy, don't make that so long. I have to go, and it's bad enough for me without having to deal with a crying House Elf."

"You is abandoning Peggy."

He crouched down and sat on his haunches. "Try to be sensible. You were not in the contract. You belong to Mr. Toddlington, not to me. There are plenty of House Elves at Hogwarts, so you don't have to worry. I will be taken care of."

She simply stared at him. "I isn't worrying about that, Master Severus. I just thinks you wills be so alone there. But I knows that all the professors has their personal elf. So Peggy could come with you."

"How would you know anything about Hogwarts?" he asked, momentarily puzzled.

"When you sends me there some months ago, I talks to the others and they tells me. Please, Master Severus."

He rose and paced the hallway. It was tempting. True, all House Elves more or less looked the same, so he would hardly notice the difference. But he had grown used to Peggy, not only because she knew how to treat his migraines, which was probably common elfish knowledge. In a way, she was special-less subdued than others of her kind, and certainly a lot more intelligent than most. Why not keep her? He had not been aware of this Hogwarts particularity. Come to think of it, having her as his personal servant might even prove highly useful, considering that she belonged to him, whereas the other House Elves were probably all bound to Dumbledore or even to the castle. His expectancies as to his social relations with the other faculty members were rather low; therefore he would need some additional source of information lest he be completely cut off from everyday life. Thinking back to his own schooldays, he remembered that whenever he had been invited to Lestrange's quarters, the same elf had brought refreshments or whatever had been requested. Only he had never realized that this was not mere coincidence.

"All right," he said, turning round to face Peggy. He could not help but smile at her anxious expression. "I will write to Toddlington and ask him about the price. But I think it is wiser for you to come with me immediately."

Obviously, domesticated elves had not lost all resemblance to their wood- inhabiting relatives of old-the dance Peggy performed vividly reminded him of the scene in the clearing he had witnessed together with Lucius during their fourth year.

"Stop it," he said, "you are making me dizzy. Come now, we should already have arrived."

~~~~*~~~~

A horseless carriage had been waiting for them at the entrance gate and was now slowly proceeding towards the school, swaying left and right, so that he had to protect Peggy from falling off the bench by clutching her firmly to his side. It was late morning, and a Thursday, so all the students would be in their classes, Severus thought while contemplating the steadily growing silhouette of the castle. During his school years, he had always felt quite elated by the sight; now, however, he had the impression of being carted towards his own mausoleum. These gloomy thoughts were by no means alleviated by the splendid weather. It was an unusually warm spring, the grass was already lush and of an intense green, completely covering the bare earth and dead blades winter had left in his wake. If anything, the magnificent scenery merely served to further emphasize Severus's own saturnine state of mind. As always, when the wish to slow down time is overwhelming, the minutes passed in a mere flurry, and Severus found himself in front of the entrance door far sooner than he had desired. The door opened, and Dumbledore stepped out, shielding his eyes against the sunlight.

"Ah, Severus. What a pleasure to see you."

Severus briefly squeezed his hand and gave him a short nod that barely sufficed to satisfy the basic requirements of polite behaviour. "Headmaster."

"Leave your luggage here, the House Elves will-oh!" Dumbledore exclaimed, "I see you brought your own elf!"

"Y-yes," he answered, suddenly feeling insecure, "I heard that teachers here have their personal elves, and thus I thought." He did not finish the sentence, cursing himself for this relapse into schoolboy-lack-of- confidence.

"Of course, of course. I had already been thinking which of our little friends here might best be able to see to your needs, but this arrangement is, of course, by far preferable. Your name was. Peggy. unless memory fails me?" he addressed her.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, Sir."

"Excellent. I suggest that you take some time in order to introduce yourself to your fellow elves, while your master chooses his quarters."

Peggy nodded, gave Severus a happy grin and disappeared with a crack.

"Well, then, Severus, follow me to my study, so we can discuss some urgent matters," Dumbledore said genially and stepped over the threshold.

It was futile and childish, and he knew it. He had already taken the decisive step. This was a mere echo, a faint aftertaste of the moment when he had rested his forehead against Voldemort's hand to say goodbye to almost three years of loving faith. The bridge he had crossed did not exist anymore. And all the same, to step into the entrance hall was to enter his own grave. He tried to scold himself for this weakness. There was absolutely no point in thinking those overly dramatic thoughts.

Coolness encompassed him, and echoing half-darkness. Death and rebirth. Was he dying or being squeezed out into this world once again, by the contractions of a life that did not want him to be a part of it anymore? Or maybe this was neither. Maybe this was just the hell he had chosen for himself. A different kind of hell than the one he had hitherto been living in. Then again, there was such a multitude of various forms of hell. their diabolic nature enhanced by the short glimpse of hope they offered you whenever you pushed open the next door. Maybe this wasn't hell anymore? Maybe the suffering had come to an end by one of the devil's unaccountable whims? But no. It was still hell. Just another part of it; another act in this infernal play, a different scenery but always the same stage.

"Severus. are you quite all right?"

He pulled himself together. "Yes, Headmaster. I am all right."

Dumbledore peered at him, evidently not quite convinced, but then nodded and preceded Severus towards the grand staircase. "I think," he said, when they had reached the third-floor landing and turned sharply to the right, "that maybe we should first discuss the question of your living quarters."

Bewildered, Severus stopped in his tracks. "I wasn't aware that I had any choice in the matter."

"Oh, yes, of course you have." The ancient wizard was now standing five steps higher and smiling down at him. Slowly, Severus went up another three stairs-Dumbledore was still towering over him, as they were of more or less equal height. "There are three possibilities. First, you can stay in the teachers' quarters. Then, there are the dungeons. And, last but not least, Serpens Tower." He again turned his back to Severus and continued his ascent.

"Serpens Tower?" Severus echoed. He had to admit that this sounded fascinating. During all his seven school years, he had never once heard of the tower.

"Ah, I see you are intrigued," Dumbledore said, glancing back at him over his shoulder. "Would you like to have a look right away?"

"If it doesn't mean too much trouble."

"Not at all. Somehow, my feet have carried me in the right direction, without my noticing it," he said, winking at Severus. "We just have to go through this tapestry." He pointed towards the far end of the corridor. It was seemingly a dead end, and a magnificent Flemish tapestry was covering the stone wall shutting it off. At first, the torch light was too dim for Severus to make out what it represented, but at a muttered command from Dumbledore the flames flared higher, and the scene was visible in all its beauty.

Dumbledore came to a halt in front of it and calmly gazed at Severus, who was losing himself in the splendour of the imagery. A forest, so natural that he though he might feel the cool texture of the leaves if he touched them, was unfolding itself before his eyes; it was full of exotic trees and plants that moved in a soft breeze he could almost feel. Running into the depths of this jungle was a narrow path, guarded by two nymphs, sprawled lazily in a grassy patch. One of them had dark hair and eyes-somehow, she reminded him of Clarissa, with her androgynous body and slender hands. The other one was blonde and very shapely.

"Good day, my dear dryads," Dumbledore said amiably, "How are you this morning?"

Severus was dumbstruck by their voices. They sounded like the rustle of leaves, mixed with the soft splashing of raindrops on moist earth. "Thank you, Headmaster," they answered in unison. "Will this young man be the future inhabitant of our tower?"

"Maybe," Dumbledore smiled. "This young man is the new Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus Snape. He will give you the password later, in case he finds the rooms to his liking. Would you now kindly let us through?"

The nymphs nodded and made a sweeping gesture, as if unrolling a carpet, towards the two wizards. At this, the path began to grow out of the tapestry in a gentle downward slope, until it touched the stone floor of the corridor. Severus was mesmerized. Dumbledore cast him a quick smile and stepped onto the path, beckoning for the younger wizard to follow him. With a dazzled smile at the dryads, Severus hesitatingly put his right foot on the trail that seemed half-diaphanous, half-solid. It carried him, though. But he felt as if he were treading on a thick layer of feathers, soft, resilient and almost propelling him forward. After he had passed the first trees, he suddenly found himself at the bottom of a staircase that spiralled upwards in ample loops.

"That," Dumbledore said, obviously relishing in Severus's awed wonderment, "is the only drawback of Serpens Tower: it is by no means the highest of Hogwarts's towers, on the contrary, it is the lowest among them, but the inhabitant has to brave the stairs all by himself."

"If that is the only negative feature," Severus replied, "I'll gladly cope with it."

Dumbledore nodded and began the ascent. They arrived when Severus had counted two hundred and fifty-two stairs. Considering their height, the tower had to be about one hundred and fifty feet high, and obviously its lower part was empty, as it only accommodated the stairwell.

"There are no wards," Dumbledore explained, pushing open a massive wooden door, the only slightly pointed arch and solid, broad dimensions of which clearly told that it was Romanesque and thus almost as old as the castle itself. "I suppose you might want to put up your own protections. in case you choose these as your living quarters, of course," he added.

Severus snorted. "Headmaster, you knew exactly that I was going to fall in love at first sight with these rooms!"

"Let us say I had an inkling that you might. So I take it these will be the abode of Hogwarts's recently acquired Potions Master?"

"I think they will." Severus looked up at the ceiling. It was rather low, no more than maybe eight feet high, and adorned by what looked like Romanesque frescos. Two thick wooden beams ran across it, covering the whole length of the room, separating the ceiling into three equal parts. The beams were supported by carved wooden pillars, darkened with age and so thick that Severus doubted he would be able to fully encircle them with his arms. It was a large room, maybe twenty-five feet by twenty, completely empty and obviously situated in a corner of the tower, for the wall opposite the door and the one to its left each had three large windows, which sported the same scarcely pointed arches as the door. The floor was made of slightly irregular granite flagstones, and on the right wall, seen from the entrance, was a huge fireplace, flanked by two doors.

"This one," Dumbledore said, pointing at the door on the left of the fireplace, "leads to the bedchamber and bathroom. The other one-" and he walked over to open it, revealing another staircase "-leads to the upper floor."

"There is. another floor?" Severus asked, trying to calculate the size of his new habitat.

"Yes, and from there you have access to the roof."

Severus felt his heart hammer in anticipation. His mind's eye already pictured the room they were standing in fully furnished, with thick carpets on the floor and a roaring fire lit in the fireplace. His Potions-related books and the laboratory would find a place upstairs, and he could grow his own herbs and ingredients on the roof. the climate was not exactly clement, but with a few protective charms and warming spells.

"Would you like to have a look upstairs?" Dumbledore inquired, the sparkle in his eyes dancing madly.

"No, thank you," Severus replied, trying to sound as dignified as possible, so as to mask his almost childlike joy, "I don't think this will be necessary."

"Well, that seems to be settled, then. If you need any furniture-" Severus nodded "-Mr. Filch will show you the depot, from which you are free to choose whatever catches your fancy. Besides, you have enough time to do some shopping, should what you find there not correspond to your tastes. I think I will leave you now to your settling-in and have some lunch sent up by the House Elves. Would three o'clock in my office suit you? The password is Fairy Cake."

"Y-yes. That would be perfect." Dumbledore cast him a last smile and strode towards the door. Severus cleared his throat. "Thank you, Headmaster. This- " he gestured at the room "-makes everything more bearable."

"You are most welcome, Severus. Oh, before I forget." The ancient wizard rummaged through the pockets of his robes and produced a silver dinner bell the likes of which Severus had already seen in his and Lestrange's quarters. "You will need this to call Peggy," he said, handing it to Severus. Then he was gone in a magnificent whirl of scarlet and gold.

For a while, Severus simply stood and looked. Then, driven by curiosity, he opened the door that, according to Dumbledore, led to the bedroom, and gasped. The chamber was considerably smaller than the living room, with windows on the left side, seen from the entrance. They were framed by thick velvet curtains in a rich green, floor-to-ceiling length, and opened on the splendid panorama of the lake and part of the Forbidden Forest. Against the wall opposite the door stood an enormous four-poster bed with draperies of the same fabric and colour as the curtains. It was the only piece of furniture, dominating the room for its sheer size and the multitude of resplendent white cushions arranged on top of a green bedspread embroidered with silver snakes. The bedroom fireplace was a little smaller than the one in the living room. Expecting to enter the bath, Severus opened a door that was set in the same wall as the fireplace, at a distance of about six feet. It was not the bath, however; it was definitely the dressing room, already furnished with cupboards and dressers. It had natural light that streamed in through a single, narrow window. Severus crossed the chamber and finally entered the bath. The sight that greeted him provoked another gasp.

The floor was tiled with dark green and cream-coloured marble, and right in the centre, its edge level with the floor, was a big, hexagonal bathtub-no, Severus thought, this was rather a miniature pool than a tub-made of black marble with silver faucets in the shape of serpents. To his left, two narrow windows offered the same view of the lake as the bedroom, and when he looked round the room, he saw that all the walls were decorated with images, of a clearly more recent style than the frescos on the living room ceiling, of trees, shrubs and flowered meadows. He raised his head to have a look at the ceiling-it was not enchanted to mirror the sky outside, but represented an eternally blue sky with floating, feathery clouds and birds circling and floating in its azure depths. A mahogany washstand with a sink, also of black marble and with the same faucets as the tub, only smaller, completed the picture. Severus felt slightly breathless when he returned to the living room and went up the stairs to the top floor.

Here, the whole vast space was uninterrupted by walls, the only division being made by wooden pillars, identical to those down in the living room, supporting the dark wooden rafters that cut through the immaculate white of the ceiling. In the middle of the room, a broad wooden staircase led up to a trapdoor. This had to be the access to his roof terrace.

He became aware that his fingers were still clutching the silver bell. Checking his watch, he saw that it was now almost eleven o'clock. He had four hours to make himself at home. Yes. To his surprise, he became aware that this could maybe become a home after all. It was much more than he had ever dared to hope for. Despite his pallor and his careful avoidance of direct sunlight, he was essentially a light person, and thus had already dreaded the darkness of the dungeons, which he had been so glad to have finally escaped three years ago. That he did not have to return there, adding another symbol of dark and doom and sepulchre to those already weighing him down, was comforting. However, furnishing this enormous space was not going to be easy. The first step he needed to take was searching for Argus Filch-he had not brought any bookcases, carpets, or other pieces of furniture with him, because he had not wanted to strip his own house down to the bare walls. Smiling at his surroundings, he went downstairs and left the tower, told the nymphs that, for the time being, his password would be Silver Serpent, and began to scour the corridors for the Hogwarts caretaker.

~~~~*~~~~

The stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office gave Severus a piercing look when he pronounced the password, stepped aside and let him enter through the door it had been concealing. While the spiral staircase carried him upwards, Severus gave his robes a last look-over. Peggy had cleaned dust and cobwebs off him, but it was certainly better to re-verify his state of cleanliness before making his appearance at the Headmaster's office. At Dumbledore's "Enter!" he crossed the threshold and stood in the large, circular room-the memories that surfaced immediately were not among his best.

"Ah, Severus. Thank you for coming. Would you like some tea?"

How old had he been then? Little more than fourteen. It was hardly believable that only seven years had gone by since his first visit-cum- afternoon-tea at Dumbledore's study. He had been an innocent then, a child who had met Voldemort a few months ago, completely unaware of what life had in store for him. That he should become a teacher. No, he would never have imagined that. And certainly not the circumstances that had brought him back to Hogwarts.

"Yes, thank you. I renounced lunch, as it seemed more important to make my rooms habitable first, but I am rather hungry now."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore beamed. "It is so much nicer to have enthusiastic company when indulging one's own vices." He rang the silver bell and told his elf Kitty to bring tea for two starving wizards. She nodded fervently and, a little later, returned with a tray the contents of which could have saved a whole battalion from starvation.

The two wizards sat down in front of the fireplace, and Dumbledore, skipping the sandwiches, roasted miniature sausages and appetizing-looking pieces of toast loaded with scrambled eggs, delved right into the sweets.

"Headmaster," Severus said after a short while, when the savage bites of hunger had somehow calmed down, "Not that I have any intention of exchanging my rooms for somewhere else, but how on earth am I to arrive at the Slytherin quarters? I remember my own time here only too well to be ignorant of the necessity to appear instantly at times. Supposing-" he speared another sausage "-that the Bloody Baron still observes the students and reports to the Head of House."

Dumbledore nodded, his speech momentarily impaired by a whole chocolate �clair. "He does," he said once he had swallowed the bite. "And there is, of course, a connection between your rooms and the Slytherin Common Room, I just forgot to tell you. Did you notice the carving in the wall on the right side of the entrance?"

"Downstairs or in my living room?"

"In your living room. It is a snake, the exact replica of the one that opens the Common Room entrance. Touch it with your wand, and a doorway will appear. It is, of course, the Common Room door."

"Of course," Severus echoed, in a rather futile attempt at aloofness, to judge by the benevolent smile Dumbledore cast him. Despite all the years he had spent at Hogwarts, the castle still managed to bewilder him.

"Did you already have time to think about your teaching?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes and no. I mean, I know the syllabus. There are some changes I have in mind, but considering that there has not been a resident Potions Master for nearly two years, that doesn't seem to be an option now. I would suggest that, for the remaining two months until the end of term, I concentrate solely on the seventh-years. Maybe you could try and get the Ministry to let them take some kind of abridged version of their Potions N.E.W.T.-I would give you the necessary material on Sunday."

"Excellent idea," Dumbledore agreed. "What about the fifth-years?"

Severus poured himself another cup of tea and took some dry biscuits. "I'm afraid I won't be able to take care of them. But I thought that you might persuade the Ministry to let them take their Potions O.W.L. at the end of their sixth year, what do you think?"

"Mmh. Yes, I think that might be a possibility. Any ideas how you will manage to catch up on two missing years with the rest of the students?"

"They will receive very specific holiday assignments at the end of the year, and I can already tell you that I'll be adamant about receiving them on September first. I plan to make them work on some crucial matters, basic points of departure, on the basis of which I can then elaborate during the next year."

"That seems very reasonable. Well thought-out, Severus. Our only real problem concerning your teaching is the time-table."

"Of course. But there is no reason to change that now, Headmaster. The seventh-years are old enough to take on an additional workload. I'm not saying this will be easy, but they will certainly survive. More so as I intend to teach the houses separately."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Separately? But, Severus, this is most unusual-"

"The seventh-years," Severus interrupted him sharply, "are the ones most likely to have already chosen which side they will be on, once they have finished school. The last thing I need, when working on a tight schedule, is a war between future Aurors and Death Eaters in my classroom. Although I can assure you that there are not only Slytherins among Voldemort's ranks, they certainly are a majority. As for the other houses, I prefer having small groups of people who have known each other for seven years and shared the same dormitory, because thus they will be more relaxed, making it easier for me to guess their intentions. After all, you don't only want me to teach them Potions, do you?"

"Certainly not. Regarding the matter from this point of view, I have to approve of your plan."

"I am glad to hear it. So, I have four groups, who will have to sit through four fifty-minute units per week. Before breakfast, during lunch break- those will be merely theoretical lessons, so that they can bring a sandwich and eat it while I'm teaching, and before dinner. That amounts already to a total of fifteen during the week, plus one on Saturday morning. So most of their weekend is theirs anyway. I will have lunch in my quarters or my office in the afternoon."

"It seems," Dumbledore said, nodding appreciatively, "that you did indeed give the matter much thought. I think that yours is a feasible solution to the problem. Now to your other duties."

Severus regretted immediately that he had eaten at all. Since he had entered his quarters this morning, he had successfully banished all thoughts about spying from his mind. Now they were back with a vengeance, making him feel sick and miserable. "I am awaiting your instructions," he said, trying to ignore the bile that was rising in his throat.

"Instructions." Dumbledore shot him a pensive look. "I rather imagined you might want to inform me of your conditions."

"No." Severus shook his head. "Tell me what you want and I'll try to get it for you. You can't seriously expect me to be. creative when it comes to betraying everything I believe. used to believe in."

The Headmaster gave him a long, hard stare. "Very well," he finally said, "What I want is as much information as you can give me. Names are less important, as I do not mean to pass any details on to the Ministry. I desire to protect as many lives as I possibly can, on both sides. Therefore, what I need most is the exact date and time of the raids you are planning. Should you have any reason to suspect that one of Voldemort's followers wants to change sides, I would be grateful if you told me that, too."

"Are you implying that you will only evacuate and hide the targets?"

"Exactly. Or, if they are able to defend themselves, forewarn them. Instructing them, of course, to spare the leader of the group."

"What an unexpected benefit for Lestrange," Severus snarled.

"I know. But considering that both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. McNair are helping my. our side to hopefully win this war, I am more than willing to spare St. John Lestrange's life. For now," he added grimly.

"That is only one part of the bargain, though, Headmaster. Voldemort also wants me to give him information about you, and I have no wish for my life to come to a premature end in case I fail to provide it."

"Of course, Severus, of course. I was coming to this point. However, he will not expect the impossible. On the contrary, it would seem very strange if you gained my trust too quickly and were able to come up with confidential information all of a sudden."

"That much is obvious, Headmaster. But I will need to feed him something, so as to avoid being devoured myself."

Dumbledore rose and started pacing, stroking his beard. "I know. This is a most difficult and dangerous game, for all the participants. However, there is one positive aspect, as far as I can judge it: We never attack. Meaning that he cannot claim the same kind of information I need. But I am sure that he is eager to learn the identity of those who are giving him so much trouble, so he can annihilate them and their families. You might drop a name from time to time-I would take the necessary safety measures first, of course."

Severus massaged his temples, feeling that a headache was beginning to form. Would a few names be enough to keep Voldemort satisfied? On the other hand, Dumbledore was right. The resistance group was never the aggressor, and therefore he was unable to discover any plans they might have. Suddenly, he felt very tired. Exhausted and small, like an ant at the foot of a mountain. How could he ever have thought that he might succeed? There were so many dangers, traps and casualties that it would be a miracle if he survived this madness. He should never have agreed to playing a part in this crazy scheme. But he was already in it, and, short of suicide, there was no way out of it.

"Would you mind if we interrupted this discussion for the moment?" he asked, "It is. not easy for me to talk about these things."

"Of course, Severus. Take your time. Maybe we cold continue tomorrow after breakfast?"

Severus nodded and took his leave, to head towards his quarters he had already come to regard as his haven, much to his own surprise. He had barely walked through the tapestry, when, with a hoarse croak, Elias sailed towards him and perched on his shoulder, only to immediately start grooming his master's hair. Another piece of home had clicked into place.