Chapter One Hundred-Eight: The Greatest Slytherin

Chapter One Hundred-Eight: The Greatest Slytherin

Easter Sunday, 4 April 1999

Minerva looked up as the Silent Knight stepped back into his painting.

"Any news?"

Andrew removed his helmet, his long silvery blond hair cascading over his shoulders. "Indeed. Some news, my lady, though it is puzzling and mysterious. Perhaps you can make sense of it."

"Perhaps." Minerva settled back in her armchair.

"You asked for news of this day, but I gathered that news which I could, and it begins with Madam Dilys. She assured me of her observations and believes perhaps they may be relevant to your inquiry, despite their timing."

Minerva nodded. Dilys Derwent was one of the more awake portraits, as she herself described her state, and Minerva sometimes wondered whether the portrait had attained some kind of life, some true sentience that had developed in her many years of watching, listening, and advising. She certainly seemed more inventive and independent than most portraits, even those of other former headmistresses and headmasters.

"Last night," Andrew continued, "Madam Dilys observed your deputy descend the stairs alone. 'Twas after most other guests had left, and he was alone in your office. He glanced about himself, though she said he seemed not furtive, merely deliberate in his actions. He entered your library, Headmistress, and as he was leaving, but scant moments later, he was tucking something into his pocket. Madam Dilys said that she did not wish to disturb him, as he appeared contemplative and desirous only of his own company after the hours in the company of others, and so she did not hail him as he passed below her frame. Before he opened the door to your stair, the master of the dungeons glanced upward once, toward the stairs to your chambers, as it seemed the door at the top was once more opening to allow guests to part. Your deputy then quickly and soundlessly opened the door and stepped through it, closing it with equal alacrity and without even a click to the latch."

"Did Dilys see what Severus pocketed?"

"No, my lady, though she had the impression of a small book; however, Madam Dilys reminded me that she may have seen a book merely because she expected one, as the master was departing a library."

"What of the other portraits? And what of today?"

"Professor Snape spent the morning from breakfast until lunch in his Potions office. Aurora was in her portrait the entire morning, and she said that he had only one visitor, and he himself did not leave."

"Did she mention the visitor?"

"Professor Flitwick of Ravenclaw, my lady. He was there but little time, and when he left, he was laughing. The master of the dungeons was in his shirtsleeves, only his waistcoat over his shirt, and he saw the master of Ravenclaw out."

"I will speak with Filius, then. Any other word?"

"Very little, I fear. He left for lunch, and Aurora saw him only briefly late in the afternoon, as he passed her portrait wearing his heavy cloak. I believe we may assume that was directly before he left the castle. From other portraits, the few whose homes are between the Great Hall and the dungeons, I learned very little. There was much movement in the Portrait Network today, as it was a holiday. I could glean only that he did likely return to his own rooms after lunch; he was not seen anywhere else in the castle."

"Thank you, Andrew."

"As your beloved is not yet returned, would you care for a game of chess?"

Minerva shook her head. "Not at the moment. Dinner is soon ... perhaps later."

"You worry about the young master of the dungeons," the Silent Knight said.

"Aye, that I do." She nodded. "That I do, and ever will, I fear."

Minerva took off her glasses and set them on the side table with her book, then she stood and crossed over to the fireplace. She lifted the lid from the ornate ceramic urn on the mantel, took a pinch of Floo-Powder, replaced the lid, then bent and tossed the Powder into the fire. As it flared green, she stuck her head into the fire and called out, "Professor Flitwick! Filius!"

A moment later, she saw Flitwick scurry in front of the fireplace in his sitting room.

"Minerva! What may I do for you?"

"Have you seen Severus today?"

"Yes, I visited him in his office this morning. He was also at breakfast and lunch, but I'm sure you know that."

"I'll open my Floo to you. Could you come through?" Minerva asked. Without waiting for an answer, she withdrew her head from the fireplace and stood. A very quick flick of her wand, and the Floo was open for Flitwick to pop through.

The Charms master Flooed through about a minute later.

"Sorry about the delay, Minerva, but Pomona was with me. I told her you'd called to see me."

"They leave in the morning, don't they," Minerva said, gesturing for him to take a seat on a low, plush armchair.

"Yes," Filius said with a sigh and a nod. "They do. Bright and early."

"You could always tell her that you want to go with her now and not wait until Thursday," Minerva suggested, sitting back down in her own chair.

"No, no." Filius shook his head. "And not just on her account. The witches are looking forward to their holiday, and although I am sure that none of the ladies would grumble if I came along, I know it wouldn't be as they'd planned. I can wait a few days. Besides, I told you I would look after the castle whilst you and Albus are up at the Tyree estate, especially as Sharon won't return until Tuesday and I don't want to leave Severus alone with it all. I also promised Severus we would duel on Tuesday, and perhaps on Wednesday, as well. I will be quite busy!"

"Still, I think that if Pomona knew why..."

"If Pomona knew, then that would spoil the surprise for her, wouldn't it?" Flitwick asked, his face brightening as he thought of surprising Pomona.

"Albus said you finally found a ring you liked."

Filius nodded vigorously. "I added a few charms, of course, since it's Muggle, and they don't have self-sizing rings. At least ... perhaps they do! I don't know! I didn't ask. But this one wasn't self-sizing. And I added another ... personal charm, as well," he said, blushing. "I hope she likes it."

"I'm sure she will," Minerva said.

"But you haven't seen it ... I understand that witches expect a diamond, but Albus assured me that if it was beautiful and personally chosen, Pomona would prefer it to any diamond." Filius looked worried.

"I think he's right about that," Minerva said. Her brow furrowed. "When was the last time you asked her?"

"Nineteen sixty-four," Filius said. "The day after your wedding."

"Ah ... I remember." Minerva wished now she hadn't brought it up. Pomona had broken up with him that very day, then disappeared until the day before the annual ward renewal. Minerva had been surprised at the time that Filius had taken Pomona back at all after that...indeed, he had actually been coolly collegial to her for months and refused all her invitations to lunch, tea, shopping, anything. It looked as though they would never be reconciled. It must have been a strain for him, as well, but he held his distance until he finally told her that he loved her, but if they ever broke up again, it would break his heart entirely, and there would never be another chance for them after that.

"I'm sure it will be different this time, though," Filius said, though the hopeful note in his voice sounded a bit strained.

"I am sure it will," Minerva agreed. After all, the two had been together forever. Well, ever since they got back together the spring after Pomona had panicked and broken up with him when he'd asked her to marry him.

"Is that what you wanted to ask me about?" Filius asked.

"No, actually. You said you saw Severus today."

Filius chuckled. "I went down to his office to ask about our plans...we'd not set any times yet, you see...and you won't believe what he was doing!"

"What?" Minerva asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Cleaning! Chucking out all those ghastly jars of things. Well, not throwing all of them away, but getting rid of some of them and locking the others all away in a cupboard. He had two house-elves in there helping him...Twiskett and the one called ... Laoosha. Cute little pink thing, Drooly's granddaughter, I believe."

"Aye, Blampa said something about Twiskett having a crush on her," Minerva said. "But what of Severus?"

Filius shrugged. "He is housecleaning. The elves were getting rid of all the layers of grunge in the dark corners and there were scrub brushes scouring all the newly emptied shelves. Apparently, he's going to have them whitewash all the walls, too, and put in new lamps."

"But did he say anything of his plans for the day?"

Filius shook his head. "Just that he was spending the morning cleaning his office and that he hoped to have it done today, with the help of the house-elves."

"Did he say anything about meeting someone? Perhaps just not mentioning that it would be today?"

"No. Well, that isn't quite so. He did say that he was planning to do some brewing for Johannes over the next few days, and that he might be delivering the potions to him on Wednesday, so he didn't want to set a time yet for us to practice on Wednesday. But it was definitely not today."

"Oh." Minerva sagged slightly in her chair, her brow furrowed.

"What is it, Minerva?"

"He left the grounds, but he didn't say where he was going, who he would be with, or when he would return, just that he would be back. He wrote me a note...to avoid speaking with me directly, I believe. I am concerned about him."

Filius nodded. "I understand. Especially with the vigilante running about committing mayhem!"

"I also worry ... I don't know. It's just a vague worry." She looked over at him. "How do you think he's seemed lately?"

"Well, I think. Yes, quite well. And optimistic. Optimistic for Severus, anyway," Filius said. "He seems to be enjoying more aspects of life."

"And he seemed well this morning when you saw him?"

"He seemed himself. You should just speak to him when he returns, Minerva, or, if you like, I could have a word with him. Just to see how he's feeling, if you're concerned about him. I would be discreet."

"I'll speak to him when he returns," Minerva said with a nod, "but if you could keep an eye on him whilst Albus and I are up at Fàinne an Fhithich this week, I would appreciate it. Not to keep him out of trouble, you understand, just ..."

"I understand, Minerva. I will keep a fatherly eye on the boy! And if he has any worries, well, if he'll talk to anyone, he'll talk to Papa Filius!"

Minerva chuckled at that. "Good. Thank you. And I am sure that Pomona will like the ring and be very happy."

"I hope so," Filius said. "At least she's not likely to throw up and then run away this time!" He laughed, but Minerva thought she also heard a touch of unease in his laughter.

"Well, this time, it will be a surprise," she said reassuringly, "but not so much of a shock. And she's much more settled now, and I have no doubt at all that she's utterly devoted to you."

Filius nodded. "It is true, and I am very lucky. Poor Pomona!"

"Poor Pomona?"

"Indeed, that it should have been so hard for so long for her to accept that she might ... that she might do better than she had done, that she might deserve better. And then to put up with me waiting so many years before asking her again."

"That's her own doing, after all."

"Perhaps." He looked up at the chime. "Dinner in ten. I better get back to Pomona. See you in the Great Hall, Minerva!"

Minerva called Blampa and told her that she might be a little late to dinner, and it should be served promptly regardless of whether she were there or not. As soon as the house-elf had Disapparated, Minerva went down to her office and then into the Headmistress's library. A wave of her wand lit all of the lamps, and she looked around herself. It had to have been a small book. Perhaps he had written down which one he had borrowed.

She looked at the large open book set on the table beside the door, but the last entry was one by Albus from two months before. Severus never had made a habit of borrowing any of the books, preferring to work in the library itself, and if he were being ... discreet, even secretive, about his actions, he would not have recorded the fact that he had borrowed this one. Whichever one it was. She looked around at the library's many shelves.

Small enough to fit in his pocket, Dilys had said. Severus hadn't been wearing a robe the evening before, but one of his finer black jackets and a rather nice waistcoat. Not much of a pocket to have slipped a book into, and he'd been carrying his new Nero Newcastle book. Perhaps he had simply shrunk that one. But then why enter the library? Suddenly Minerva froze, remembering a particular small volume, one they had used, and one that Severus had spent some significant time with the previous spring. He had found one of Albus's old notes in it ...

Aine's warning to Severus seemed to ring in Minerva's ears: Do not step backward ... Do not return to your past ... Do not lose your way ... As little as Minerva might profess to believe in divination, she did appreciate Aine's talents, and the Irish witch's warnings to Severus the evening before had unsettled her. She could not believe that Severus would ever return to the Dark Arts or to his previous way of living, not even to the way that he had lived as a spy. Surely he was growing happier, even Filius had seen that.

Filled with trepidation, Minerva stepped around the library's one long table and bent. She immediately could see what she could not see. The book was missing. But she bent further and looked at all of the books on that shelf, then she looked at those on the shelf above it, any that were about the right size. The book was not there. Vita furtiva, vindicta occulta, nex abdita. Secret life, hidden vengeance, concealed death.

Minerva swallowed. Was Severus set on some path of vengeance? Did he believe he knew who the vigilante was? Perhaps he was even now engaged in some Dark ritual ... No, she could not believe it. He had struggled too long and come too far. And he was certainly in love with Poppy, a witch who was as light and bright as they come. He would not pull away from that light, whatever ambivalence he might feel for a path of Light in general. No, if he had the book ... Minerva almost moaned aloud. If he had the book, what could he possibly be thinking?

Dilys had said he had not seemed furtive, merely deliberate. It could very well be that his interest in the book and his reason for leaving the castle were entirely unrelated. In fact, that was most likely. After all, what man would spend a morning clearing his office of gruesome specimens and whitewashing its walls and then turn around that evening and commit an offense against his soul by practising the Dark Arts?

She would simply have a little chat with him when he returned, hope that he would confide in her, and if he didn't ... she would have to trust that he could look after himself. And Filius would keep an eye on him. Papa Filius. Minerva smiled at that as she extinguished the lamps and left the library. Severus would be all right.

~*~*~*~

Back in Gertrude's warm, brightly lit kitchen, Gertrude heated water for a fresh pot of her herbal tea. Severus visited the loo, washing his face and hands. He looked at his right hand again, turning it palm up. He let out a sigh. He had believed that Gertrude would accept his offer...jump at it, in fact...even if she found some aspects of the ritual distasteful, and that he would find relief from his guilt; yet he was not disappointed to still see his own hand whole, and not to have suffered the pain required by the ritual. He flexed his fingers and turned off the water.

"More bread and cheese, Severus?" Gertrude asked as he came out of the loo.

Suddenly, he felt ravenous. He nodded and sat down in the same chair he'd sat in before.

Gertrude took the bread and cheese out of her bag, then sliced the second loaf into several thick pieces.

Severus cleared his throat. "I am sorry if ... if I made things more difficult for you ... what I offered ..."

Gertrude shook her head as she unwrapped the cheese. "It was a moment's temptation only, and never a true possibility. Nothing has changed for me. Although," she said, looking at him seriously, "I do appreciate your offer. I am sure it took courage to make it, and genuine regret."

Severus accepted the bread and cheese, then slathered his sandwich with the spicy mustard. "I felt ... it came to the point where I could not choose to do otherwise."

"I understand."

Gertrude sipped her tea, watching him devour his sandwich, and passed him two more slices of bread.

Severus fixed himself bread and butter this time, sprinkling it with cinnamon sugar. "I had a conversation with Madam MacAirt yesterday."

"Aine. NicAirt," Gertrude corrected mildly. "I noticed."

Severus chewed and swallowed, thinking. "She said she would speak to you, she and Hafrena."

"Hafrena celebrated the holiday with her brother's family in Trim," Gertrude said, "and although I spoke with Aine today, she did not mention you except in passing." Gertrude quirked a smile. "I believe she rather liked you, Severus, and she doesn't take to many people very quickly."

Severus gave a short huff. "Perhaps. Though I would be unsurprised if the opposite were true."

Gertrude sipped her tea and waited.

"When she did her divination at the table yesterday evening, she saw something, just a glimpse, she said," Severus finally continued. "She didn't see any detail, but she drew a certain conclusion, and Hafrena confirmed it for her."

"About the Death Eater attack on me in which you played a role," Gertrude said.

Severus nodded. "I would not have lied to her if she had asked straight out, but she did not. And she only knows that I was present. I did not elaborate on the incident nor my culpability, and neither did Professor MacAirt. I don't know whether she told her anything more about it later or not."

"I will clarify the situation to Aine, Professor. Tell her whatever she wishes to know, and I will also ensure that she understands ... there is no grudge to be held. If there were one, it would be mine to deal with, and no one else's."

Severus nodded. "But there is one other issue, one that concerns me far more."

Gertrude waited again.

"She wants to tell her father," Severus said. He swallowed. "She wants to have the three of you...you, her, and Professor MacAirt...all tell him together. Inform him of my role."

Gertrude snorted. "That is like Aine. But it isn't her place to decide such a thing."

"Professor MacAirt did say that they would speak with you and that it would be up to you. Aine agreed with that."

"Kind of them not to treat me as though I've completely lost all my wits," Gertrude said drily.

"It may be cowardly of me, but I do not want him to know. I fear ... he may tell others. He may want revenge. Gareth tells me that Quin takes revenge on those who hurt his kin."

"Quin would call it justice," Gertrude said. "And he would be more correct in calling it that."

"I do not fear his justice ... not as such. But I have begun to build a new life." Severus swallowed hard, thinking of Poppy. "I do not deserve your assistance in this, and perhaps I do not deserve this new life, but I want it. And I am trying to ... to ..."

"To become deserving," Gertrude finished for him. "And if Quin were to act rashly and were to advertise this particular misdeed, your new life might be imperiled, as would your opportunity to continue in your quest for redemption and to truly become the greatest Slytherin since Slytherin, greater than he."

Severus felt himself flush at this accurate assessment of his secret desires.

Gertrude nodded. "I have told you there is no need for you to make any personal reparation to me. Any reparation you may have owed, it is discharged. I, too, would not be happy to see your emergent new life, fragile as its roots may now be, assailed in any way."

"Thank you."

"I will make this clear to Aine. As for Quin ... there may be some merit in explaining how I came to live the life I did for so many years, here on this island, and to explain your role in it all, your full role, not only in the attack." Gertrude poured herself more tea and refilled Severus's mug. "And in the telling of it, I will lead him to understand it, your deed and your role. He will have compassion for you, not hatred."

"I do not see how, but as long as he does not ... as long as it does not become common knowledge, and my colleagues are not informed of it ..." Severus sighed. "Thank you, Professor."

"It is in both our interests," Gertrude said.

"What did you mean, though, about my role beyond the deed?" Severus asked.

Gertrude sipped her tea, then set her mug down and gazed at it a moment, tracing its heavy blue rim with her index finger. "Why do you imagine I remained on this island for so many years? Why I did not even make one visit to my home, even when my mother died? Not even to visit Amsterdam and my sons? Why I waited until the battle at Hogwarts to emerge and to fight?"

Severus shook his head slowly. There must be more than he had considered, or she would not ask the question. He still had only one answer for her. "Fear. If not fear of me, then fear of the Dark– of Tom Riddle and what he might do to you, and perhaps to your family."

"Naturally, there was some fear, particularly fear of what might happen to Gareth. It was one of the reasons I sent him to live with Robert and would not allow him to stay at Hogwarts."

"And I was the reason you would not let him return after Riddle's first defeat," Severus said.

Gertrude nodded. "That is true. And it was for the best, I believe. He is a bright wizard. He soon suspected that you were there that night...that you were a Death Eater and were one who was there. He is intuitive, as well, and he guessed that it was you who had amputated my arm. He confronted Robert about it, and Robert ... well, I would not have wished Robert to tell him, but Robert did give him the truth. Perhaps that was best. To be kept in the dark is one thing, to be lied to, something else entirely."

"Gareth resented it."

"Yes, he did. And oddly, he never blamed me, and it was my decision to keep him in Amsterdam, as it was also my decision to abide here until the right moment came for me to return. He blamed Albus, and he blamed Robert...he was rather beastly to Robert for quite a long time, but Robert's temperament is such that he accepted it and never let it affect him. Although sometimes ... there were some decisions that Robert made that I know Malcolm and I would not have. It is hard to see someone else raise your son through his adolescence, even when it is your other son, and he is doing his best."

"But he and Gareth get along ..." Severus stopped, realizing that he had never actually seen Gareth and Robert together, only Gareth and "Robbie."

"Oh, yes," Gertrude said, however, "yes, they get along now. And they are close. But ... well, that is not the issue here. You do not understand why I stayed here."

Severus twitched his shoulders. He supposed he did not understand. She could have moved away with Gareth, perhaps moving to Amsterdam where her other son and his family lived. He had presumed that she had feared first, the Dark Lord, and then when he was gone, that she had feared him, despite his having changed sides. Or even that she simply had vague fears and phobias after the terror she had experienced in her own home. That he had traumatised her so thoroughly, she could not bear to be among people any longer. He could understand that.

"I stayed because you had become a spy, Professor. Your position was precarious. There had been no news of my death in the papers, but there had also been no news of my survival, nor of anyone having seen me after the attack. You had succeeded, Riddle believed. And it was best that he continue to believe that. Albus was certain Voldemort was not dead, that he would return someday, and that your services would be required. If I were seen, if I were known to be alive, that you had spared my life that night ... doubts might arise about your loyalty. He might look at you and wonder, even if you played your role convincingly. And even if you were to be unable or unwilling to spy on him, I believed Albus when he said that you would not ever become a genuine Death Eater again, and in that case, you would be doubly damned if I were known to have survived, and your life would be in jeopardy. I stayed, Professor, not out of fear for myself, but to remain dead to the world, and thus to remain dead to that evil, repellant murderer. I thought it best for the Order's cause and for you, yourself, if only a bare handful of people knew I had survived. Safer for us all, really."

Severus shook his head. Almost twenty years in exile, a very isolated exile, in order to help him to maintain his position.

"We all do what we can, Professor," Gertrude said. "It was my way of fighting. Until I could finally fight him myself. Albus would not have kept me here if I had wished to leave; once I explained my reasoning to him, he was relieved, however."

"But when I allowed you to Disapparate, I was not a spy then. It took another several months...a year, even...before I turned to Dumbledore."

Gertrude shrugged her left shoulder. "It wouldn't have mattered to Riddle. He would have seen it as a weakness, at best, as betrayal, at worst. And I saw your eyes that night, Severus. I saw them before you sliced off my arm, and I saw them after. I saw ... you were horrified at yourself, at what you had become. Perhaps you never would have turned to Dumbledore if certain other things hadn't occurred, if you had never heard the prophecy, if Riddle hadn't targeted your childhood sweetheart. Perhaps you would have simply continued to block off more and more of your soul, killing your sense of right and wrong, killing your ability to feel any of the higher, more grace-filled human emotions, but you did feel utter disgust at yourself that night, and some fear, too, at what you had done. There was something in you that could still be saved. And Riddle may have detected that...detected it as a dangerous weakness in you...and killed you. If I could give you a chance, and at the same time, could also give the wizarding world a better chance at defeating a Dark tyranny, then I would do that."

Severus sat in silence, trying to absorb all she had told him. He had wondered sometimes how she was a Slytherin, this Muggle-loving friend of Dumbledore's, and now, he saw some of those qualities. She had great patience for a long term plan to unfold; to remain waiting, biding her time until the right moment; to keep her motives to herself, not discussing them with anyone lest her purpose become diluted or she, dissuaded from her course; to allow others to believe whatever they wished about her, knowing that the truth was quite different; and then, following this long period of quasi-dormancy, to find the flexibility within herself to reenter society and live a new life, at her age and after her many trials and her years of solitude, and never to complain with bitterness about her lot, but to move ahead and to nurture others. He remembered Gareth's off-hand comment about his mother's moods, how she would sometimes close herself into her study and not emerge until her mood had passed. She struggled. Severus was sure that in those times, she struggled.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "There is one goal I shall never attain. I shall never become the greatest Slytherin. I believe the greatest Slytherin may truly never be recognised as such. But if anyone asks who in our House they may take as a role model, I will point to you and tell them, see, see this witch. This witch before us: She is the avatar of the true Slytherin spirit, of all that is best in our House. The greatest Slytherin."