Slytherin Politics

Phoenix Song, Chapter Eight : Slytherin Politics

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

As always, I'd like to thank my betas, LAxo and WriterMerrin, without whom my grammar would be appalling and my punctuation nonsensical. Any errors that remain are entirely my own.

While the blood status of new Hufflepuffs might be considered irrelevant, Severus deemed it crucial information with regard to his Slytherins and made it his business to look them up as soon as possible. Five purebloods, one half-blood, and a Muggle-born. It didn't really surprise him to discover that the malnourished young girl and the Muggle-born witch were one and the same person. As was his wont, Severus took the time to meet with each of the new students within the first week. Morris Bletchley and Terrence Harper were having no problems. They both had brothers already at Hogwarts to show them the ropes. Raquel Garside and Milton Hammerbright both came from such well-established pureblood families that they could claim familial relationships with half the common room and had probably holidayed on the Riviera with a number of others. Pubert Cavendish, on the other hand, was probably related to just as many individuals but came from a family where money was a problem. His clothes were obviously second hand, and he looked a little lost. In the past, Severus would have assigned him to the capable hands of Draco Malfoy...typically ready to share the sweets and other largess sent to him by Narcissa at regular intervals...but Draco hadn't bothered to show up to talk with his Head of House. Instead, Severus had a word with Blaise Zabini. Chelsea Gladstone, half-blood, had come well-prepped by her mother and had no trouble gliding over the elements of her family background that her housemates might look down on. Severus overheard her glibly inform one of the third-years that her father had immigrated from Canada many years earlier...conveniently explaining away her Mugglish surname. He made a mental note to tell Tracey Davis to keep an eye out for her. Jocelyn Smith, however, was cause for concern.

She arrived for her appointment precisely on time and took her seat in front of Snape's desk without a word. Her legs stuck out awkwardly, too short to reach the ground. The size of the chair made her appear younger than she actually was. As she waited for Snape to speak, she held her body tightly wound, her hands clenched in her lap.

Snape regarded her intently for a moment before he spoke: Miss Smith was not an attractive child. She was too thin and small for her age. Everything about her was slightly colourless. Her hair was a lank, dirty blonde that hung down to just below her shoulders. The ends were ragged and desperately needed a trim. Her eyes were a washed-out pale blue that looked too large in her pinched face. A shadow of a bruise bloomed across one cheek.

"Miss Smith," he began. There was something slightly unnerving about the way the child stared, unblinking. "You may have heard that only pureblood wizards and witches are sorted into Slytherin house." The girl made no reply, so he continued. "Obviously, such statements are untrue, as are the vast majority of statements about the magically-inclined offspring of Muggle parents. There are, for example, no measurable differences in magical ability. The circumstance remains, however, that certain political factions within Slytherin house continue to spout such rhetoric. It would be expedient for you to abstain from discussing your genealogy. Fortunately, the surname 'Smith' is as common in the wizarding world as it is in Muggle England."

Still the girl said nothing. Has she even blinked? Severus wondered.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked.

"No, sir," she replied promptly in a clear, high voice. After a short pause, she added, "And I have absolutely nothing to say about my family to anyone." Her voice was simultaneously childish and disturbingly serious.

For a moment, her response took Severus aback. With a jolt, he realised that the neutrality of her voice extended to her thoughts: he couldn't sense her at all. The girl is Occluding, and heavily so. The realisation perturbed him. It was surprising enough to discover that Hermione Granger...an obnoxiously precocious fifth-year student...had developed a talent as an Occlumens. But a first-year with no previous exposure to magic? Something wasn't right. He kept her with him for another few minutes. She gave noncommittal answers to a few questions regarding her first day of classes, and he decided to let her go. As she reached the door, he called her back.

"Miss Smith?"...she turned at once..."Who was it that came to visit your family and deliver your Hogwarts letter?"

"Professor McGonagall, sir."

"Very good, you may go."

Once the door closed behind the girl, Snape checked his watch. There was still a little time before dinner. If he hurried, he might catch Minerva in her office.

He chose to walk, rather than Floo, relishing the chance to stretch his legs. McGonagall's door was closed, but when he knocked, she called out for him to come in.

At the sight of Snape in her doorway, Minerva gave him a wry look, their argument from two evenings ago clearly fresh in her mind.

"My, my," she teased. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Snape gave her a revolted look. "You are the only cat around here, Minerva, and I have no desire to contemplate the objects you may or may not drag around."

Minerva chuckled. "Sit down and have a biscuit," she offered, pushing a tin of shortbread towards the visitor's side of her desk.

Snape sat and crossed his arms, ignoring the biscuits. "I'm here to discuss a student...one of mine."

At his last statement, Minerva shot him an interested glance. "I thought for a moment you'd come to complain about one of my Gryffindors."

"No. It's Jocelyn Smith."

"Ah." Minerva's lips pursed disapprovingly and she shook her head. "I was very surprised to see her, of all people, sorted into Slytherin. She needs looking after...don't glare at me like that, Severus! It's perfectly clear that you're here for exactly that reason, I wasn't implying that you..."

"And why would you think Slytherin a bad place for her?" Severus' voice was low and dangerous.

"Tchk, Severus! She's Muggle-born! She'd be better off in a place where she needn't hide her family history."

"The Sorting Hat didn't think so."

"Calm down, Severus, I have no intention of having this argument with you again." Minerva reached out and rattled the shortbread tin where it lay on the desk. "Go on, have a biscuit."

Severus sighed heavily. With a great display of reluctance, he reached for a shortbread and took a bite.

"That's better. I suppose you want to know what her family was like when I visited?"

"Yes," said Severus thickly through a mouthful of biscuit.

"Not good, I'm afraid. The mother was barely older than a child herself and the father was long gone. From what I gathered, there was a constant stream of men through the flat and her mother's bed, few of whom were caring towards the child. The place was owned by the council...and filthy, from top to bottom. The entire visit was terribly depressing. Jocelyn's here on scholarship, of course." Minerva paused for a moment before continuing. "I took the girl to Diagon Alley to buy her school things, too. She didn't say much. Didn't seem to believe that it was all really happening, either. After I bought her books, she asked, 'Can I keep them?'...as if she was expecting to have to give them back. It was heartbreaking."

Severus felt a stab of sympathy for his littlest charge. For a long moment he looked at Minerva, speechless, a second biscuit forgotten in his hand.

"Severus," she said gently, "I'm really relieved that she has you to look after her. Now, let's go down to dinner...before you eat too much more of my shortbread."

Later that evening found Severus sitting in his office, nominally working on his lesson plans for the third- and fourth-year students. In reality, he was lost in thought. His mind kept returning to the issue of Jocelyn Smith and Hermione Granger...two Muggle-born witches, both natural Occlumens. Occlumency skills rarely developed without instruction, and for children the necessary mental control was incredibly difficult to master. Was it merely co-incidence? The circumstances seemed so different, yet the result was the same. Severus sighed with frustration.

For one thing, he had wasted more than enough time already thinking about Miss Granger. Since their few conversations at the end of last year, she seemed to be continually on his mind. Now, with school back in session, he found that her presence repeatedly leapt out at him from among the crowds of students, catching at his attention. If the dratted girl would just stop looking at him and trying to speak to him, they could get on with her lessons, but until then it wasn't safe...for her or for him. Severus had just started to ruminate on the question of how much time he would have to teach her before the more drastic elements of Dumbledore's plan were put into action when his Dark Mark burned. Sucking in a sudden breath at the ferocity of the pain, he pushed aside his lesson plan and moved through to his living quarters. Severus summoned his mask and cloak, sent a Patronus to inform Dumbledore of his departure, and slipped out into the grounds.

The evening was lovely. The sky was clear and the stars shone out above him. Had his arm not ached infuriatingly, he would have enjoyed the stroll to the Apparation point. As he walked, he disciplined his mind, pushing away the niggling anxiety engendered by the summons. He was rarely called during term time: something important must have happened. By the time he stepped beyond the wards, his mind was clear. He touched his wand to the Dark Mark and Disapparated.

Once again, he found himself in the Apparation foyer of Malfoy Manor, although this time, both Narcissa and Bellatrix were on hand to meet him. Narcissa ran forward as soon as he arrived and took hold of his forearm with both hands.

"Severus," she gasped. "I'm so sorry."

His eyes glanced from her distressed face to look at Bellatrix, who hadn't moved from where she leant against the wall. Even she wore a slightly apologetic look.

"What have you done?" he asked. His voice echoed harshly against the tiled surfaces of the room.

"He found out about the Unspeakable Vow, and...Oh Severus, he's not happy . . ."

The corners of Snape's mouth drew downwards in anger, emphasising the harsh lines of his face. He shook his arm from Narcissa's grasp and moved quickly towards the door. As he passed Bellatrix, he turned towards her without slowing his pace. "Trouble-making again, Bellatrix?" he inquired, not bothering to wait for a response.

Severus prostrated himself immediately on entering the drawing room.

"Ah, Severusss . . . how lovely of you to make the time to come and see me. I know you are terribly busy at this time of year."

Not for the first time Severus caught himself pondering the similarities between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. Somehow, with his face pressed to the floor and the certainty of punishment in his future, he felt less worried than he had earlier, when he was contemplating the possibility of physical pain.

Seconds later he was jerked airborne.

"My dear boy, allow me to help you closer." Voldemort had his wand out and was levitating Snape towards him. When his floating body was close enough that Voldemort could have touched him, it was dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

"My Lord," he managed, though the wind was knocked from his body.

"It seems you neglected to tell me something, Severus."

"Indeed, my Lord. I apologise."

"Not good enough, Severus. You see, if you go around recklessly making vows to people, how can I know that your loyalty to me remains?" There was a long pause. "Severus? Look at me!"

Snape looked up into the red eyes and pointed wand of the Dark Lord. Voldemort leaned forwards and smiled at him in a sickening parody of friendliness. "Legilimens," he whispered.

Lord Voldemort's excursions into the minds of others inevitably involved a certain amount of pain: he took great delight at pushing against the seams and causing harm. Severus, however, knew what to expect. He concentrated hard on the memory of the Unbreakable Vow, throwing up a smokescreen of other, more recent memories, so that Voldemort wouldn't realise the control Severus had maintained. He thought about walking up to the castle with Potter and about the welcoming speech in the Slytherin common room. Both caught briefly at Voldemort's attention, but he pushed onwards to the scene at Spinner's End. Only once he'd viewed Narcissa and Bellatrix's departure did he retreat from Severus' mind. As the energy of the spell dissipated, Severus' head thudded back down onto the carpet. The part of his brain that wasn't throbbing with pain blessed Lucius for having decided against floorboards.

Severus wasn't sure how long he lay there, perhaps no more than a few minutes. At that point Voldemort inserted the toe of his boot under his shoulder and rolled him face up. Looking upward, Severus found Voldemort leaning over him and noticed, for the first time, the presence of Nagini.

"Well, Severus, I confess that you proved yourself more loyal than I had imagined."

Was this a reprieve? Voldemort seemed impressed by the memory he'd viewed, but Snape wasn't yet convinced that the immediate danger had passed. He thought it safer to say nothing. Voldemort was absentmindedly tapping his wand against his thigh. With the other hand, he was stroking the back of Nagini's head.

It was to the snake that Voldemort eventually spoke, crooning gently as if to a small child, "I'm sorry, my sweet one, but I'm going to let him live this time." Looking back down at Severus, the Dark Lord prodded him once again with his boot. "Get up," he ordered.

Severus pulled himself onto his hands and knees and pressed his forehead to the ground near Voldemort's feet. "Thank you, my Lord," he said.

When he lifted his face, Voldemort had leaned forwards once again, narrowing the distance between them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was angry with Bellatrix, my Lord; I was furious that she had questioned my loyalty to you. I thought myself above carrying tales of petty jealousies back to bore you."

"You regard an Unbreakable Vow as a trivial matter? How many others have you made?"

"None, my Lord. I swear it. I didn't promise anything that I wouldn't have willingly done already." After a beat, he added, "I am fond of the boy."

"You know, Severus, you could be my greatest servant." Voldemort was looking at him with a curiously appraising expression.

"My Lord, you honour me."

"Next time you do something so stupid, Severus, make sure to tell me yourself, that way I won't have to punish you." At that, Voldemort raised his left hand and placed it momentarily on Severus' head, as if in benediction. Then, waving his wand lazily, he laughed, "Crucio."

An hour or so later, Severus made it back to Hogwarts, his eyes searching for the cat the instant he Apparated into the clearing. He stumbled slightly on landing, and the cat leapt forward with concern, wrapping briefly around his legs once he righted himself.

She meowed querulously.

"I've been worse," he replied, setting off on the long walk up to the castle, the cat pacing beside him.

Re-living the night's experience in the Pensieve was singularly unpleasant. Prostrating yourself before a homicidal maniac is one thing, watching yourself do so is another. Luckily Dumbledore was content to spend only a short period dissecting the conversation and excused Severus not long after midnight.

Severus left the office via the stairwell and let the walk back down to the dungeons clear his mind. His body ached with the after effects of a prolonged bout of Crucio. Walking hurt, but he knew from experience that everything would hurt worse tomorrow if he didn't stretch out his limbs before curling up in bed.

He ran into the cat just outside his chambers. "What do you want?" he asked, with customary rudeness. The cat merely stretched and, when he lowered the wards, followed him in. Severus shrugged off his robes and hung them on the back of his door. Crossing the room, he lowered himself into a comfy armchair and pulled off his boots. Once his socked feet were perched on the coffee table, he summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass from the mantle and poured himself a generous measure. With a small mewl of disapproval, the cat leapt onto the arm of his chair and arched her back. "Ridiculous," muttered Severus, scowling down his nose at her. She meowed again, and with a sigh, he summoned a saucer that he balanced in the air beside her. Shaking his head, he poured her a dose of the amber liquid. "You do realise that you look preposterous?" he asked as she lapped happily. Severus stowed the bottle on the floor, closed his eyes and leant back in his chair, cradling his whiskey against his chest.

The cat finished her drink, licking first the plate and then her whiskers clean. Stepping daintily, she moved from the arm of the chair into the lap of the man beside her. As she began to knead his thighs, he grimaced. "Must you make such a nuisance of yourself?" he grumbled. His complaining continued at intermittent intervals even once she was settled, but an astute observer would have noticed that one hand had crept to rest on the back of her head, and one long finger stroked gently behind an ear.

A/N : The upcoming chapter is *entirely* HG SS interaction . . . stay tuned!