2: The First He Got to Know

Chapter 2: The First He Got to Know

'I hear you have already made quite an impression on some of your students, Severus. However, I recall that being put in detention has never made a good impression on anyone.'

Snape felt a muscle in his jaw twitch, but he was quite certain that the Dark Lord had not noticed. It was too dark for that in Lucius Malfoy's drawing room. Now all he had to do was keep his voice steady and his thoughts obscured.

'I assume you are referring to Miss McKibben, my Lord.'

Voldemort nodded slowly, a movement which reminded Snape of a giant cobra that was ready to strike and kill.

'The girl has written to her father,' Voldemort explained. 'And he, in his turn, is not too happy about the fact that his daughter has been put in detention. As I understand, her record has so far been spotless.'

'Miss McKibben skipped classes,' Snape explained, fully aware that the Dark Lord didn't really care about his measures of discipline. 'Insubordination must not be tolerated.'

'I agree with you, Severus,' Voldemort consented. 'Discipline must be enforced. And our subjects – forgive me – your students, need to be shown every now and then who is in charge. But the girl also wrote that you are making her take up Defence Against the Dark Arts again.'

'I am indeed, my Lord,' Snape responded quickly. A little too quickly, maybe. The Dark Lord mustn't even suspect that Dumbledore and Snape were working against him. If it were up to them, the girl would be as much Death Eater material as Godric Gryffindor himself in three weeks' time.

'Why is that, Severus?' Voldemort asked. 'The girl has no use for Defence Against the Dark Arts.' His voice was still low and – by his standards – soft, but there was no doubt that he wasn't pleased with Snape's decision to make the girl rejoin the Defence class. Now he was demanding an explanation. And what Voldemort demanded, he received.

'My Lord,' Snape started carefully, 'it would not be prudent for Miss McKibben to drop the subject now. She will be a Hogwarts student for two more years, and even if she is to join your ranks in a few weeks ...'

Something changed in Voldemort's otherwise impassive face. It rendered it even more inhuman, grotesque. And Snape realised that the Dark Lord was smiling. It was a horrific sight.

'If the girl is to join my ranks,' he said in a contemplative tone, the smile still playing around his thin lips. 'If. Is Nadezhda ready, Severus? Is she worthy?'

Snape frowned slightly. Why would Voldemort be asking him that question? Was this a test?

'I have not spoken to Miss McKibben about this issue, my Lord,' he replied.

It was a blatant lie, one among many. Snape had spoken to the girl, not as her teacher, not as her Head of House and not as a fellow Death Eater. He had spoken to her as a fellow human being, someone who had already made the journey on which she was about to embark, someone who knew that the road was stony and the destination hell itself. But to be precise, he had not talked at all. Instead, he had tried to coax the words out of her mouth in order to find out why on earth a not even seventeen-year-old, seemingly smart girl would want to take the Dark Mark. But he had been forced to give in. The girl had either no better reason than 'It's what is expected of me' or she didn't want to tell him. And he had not deemed it prudent to pressure her into telling him. Not yet.

'I would like you to talk to Nadezhda, Severus.'

Snape suppressed a sneer. If he didn't know better, he would bet his last Sickle that Dumbledore and Voldemort were having tea together on a regular basis and plotted on how to make his life difficult. Did they have to insist on him talking to students? Was there no other way to torture him?

'Find out if she is ready and worthy,' Voldemort continued. 'If you deem her neither, I will not waste my time by summoning her.'

With a bow, Snape accepted his task and accepted it gladly. Voldemort had no idea that he had just handed him the tools to save the girl.

~ ~ ~

'Oi, McKibben. McKibben! Nadezhdaaa!'

The wailing tone in which her House mate shouted her name across the Slytherin table made Nadezhda McKibben fall dead in her tracks, and Snape, who was walking down the aisle on the other side of the table, slowed down his steps as well. He had made a habit out of eavesdropping on the girl's conversations with her peers in order to get to know her better and to find out what kind of person she was. He didn't like spying on her, but he deemed that he had no choice.

His attempts to get under her skin during her detention the previous Saturday had failed miserably. Her answers had been polite but monosyllabic to say the least and had contained no valuable information whatsoever. After the detention, Snape had still not known more about her than he had read in her file: she was a hard-working student with grades above average, involved in a few extra-curricular activities, well-behaved and diligent. Nothing indicated that she had a predisposition for the Dark Arts or was hostile towards Muggles. And still, joining the Dark Lord's ranks seemed as natural to her as breathing. It just didn't make sense.

What Snape got to see from Nadezhda McKibben that morning was once more the result of an immaculate upbringing. She was annoyed by the way her House mate had shouted after her, Snape could see that by the way the muscles in her neck had tensed up. But still, she turned towards the boy in a slow and deliberate movement that barely made her robes swish, and the look on her face was calm. What betrayed her were her eyes. They were cold enough to make the Black Lake freeze to ice.

'Have I not told you to not call me by my first name, Herrington?'

The tone of her voice was neither hostile nor angry, but it suggested that the boy had crossed a line.

'Yes, you have,' he admitted, flinching slightly. 'But I really wanted to get your attention,' he added hastily.

The girl crossed her arms in front of her chest. 'And why would that be?'

'I was wondering if you would mind helping me with my Charms essay. I'm really having troubles with it, Naddie.'

Nadezhda's green eyes softened somewhat. 'I'm serving detention today, Charles,' she answered, and Snape noticed that her voice, like her eyes, had become less harsh. 'I'll help you after dinner.'

'Thanks, Naddie. I appreciate it.'

The boy smiled, and for a fraction of a second, Snape could see a ghost of a smile in Nadezhda's eyes as well.

'Any time, Charles. Any time.'

~ ~ ~

Two hours later, Snape peered at the girl over his issue of the Daily Prophet. He had given her some chapters in Dark Curses and How to Fight Them to read for that Saturday morning detention. He would test her after lunch and then even make her cast some counter curses. For the time being, however, he would just observe her.

She was sitting at her desk with her back straight and her head slightly lowered so her black hair obscured most of her face. In her right hand, she was holding her quill and was eagerly taking notes. Her left hand lay still beside her book. Her fingers were long and slender, Snape noticed, and her nails flawlessly manicured. Yet another sign of a good upbringing, he concluded. He could just imagine the girl having been slapped on the hand every time she had attempted to chew her nails or suck her thumb as a child.

When she turned a page to start a new chapter, Snape decided it was time to strike up a conversation. He was not going to find out anything about her by watching her read.

'Nadezhda is an unusual name,' he pointed out, acutely aware of how dull a topic it was. About as bad as talking about the weather. But the girl's vehement reaction towards her House mate calling her by her first name earlier that morning had intrigued Snape.

The girl carefully put down her quill and raised her head. And Snape wondered how he could ever have thought that her eyes looked like Lily's. The shape was similar, yes, and so was the colour. But Lily's eyes had always been kind and smiling. The eyes he was staring into now, however, didn't hold any trace of emotion. It was like looking at two emerald gems.

'It's a Bulgarian name, sir,' the girl explained, her face impassive. 'It means hope.'

Hope? How ironic, Snape thought. If he didn't come up with a solution soon, there wouldn't be any hope for this girl in two weeks' time.

'How come you have a Bulgarian first name, Miss McKibben?' he asked. McKibben was, after all, a good old Scottish surname. And choosing a Bulgarian first name seemed somewhat odd.

'My mother was Bulgarian,' the girl replied. 'My father picked a Bulgarian name to honour her memory.'

'To honour her memory? Your mother is dead?' Snape asked, cursing inwardly. As Head of House, he was supposed to know such things. But there hadn't been any mentioning of her mother's death in the girl's file.

To Snape's surprise, Nadezhda closed her book and put her hands on top of it. Obviously, she had – for once – no intentions of cutting their conversation short.

'My mother was very ill when I was born. She and my older brother had been infected with bacterial meningitis when Mother was about eight months pregnant with me.'

Bacterial meningitis? Snape frowned. As far as he knew, that disease had not killed any witch or wizard in decades. In fact, it was considered to be extinct in the Wizarding world.

'My parents and my brother were visiting my mother's relatives in Bulgaria,' Nadezhda answered Snape's unasked question. 'They stayed in a Muggle village in the countryside. My brother caught the disease from a local kid, a Muggle, and Mother caught it from my brother. He died three weeks before I was born, and my mother didn't even live long enough to name me.'

Snape swallowed dryly. He had not expected this, neither to hear about the tragic demise of Nadezhda's mother and brother nor the girl telling him about it without even batting an eyelash. But the fact that her mother and brother had died of a Muggle disease explained a lot. The girl certainly had reason to hate Muggles enough to willingly join the Dark Lord. And Snape could not blame her for it. There were people who had joined Voldemort for less.

~ ~ ~

'Why does Miss McKibben's file not say anything about her mother's death?' Snape demanded to know. He had hated every minute of his conversation with the girl, and now he wanted some answers from Dumbledore. Surely, the Headmaster had know.

'The girl's father requested the information be kept a secret,' Dumbledore explained.

'And why is that?' Snape barked.

'I do not know, Severus,' Dumbledore replied calmly. 'Maybe you should ask Mr McKibben at the next Death Eater gathering.'

Snape sneered. Did Dumbledore really think that Death Eater gatherings were about socialising? Besides, now that he was a spy, Snape was rarely summoned along with the other Death Eaters, except for the ones who belonged to the Dark Lord's inner circle.

'I have made some inquiries about Mr McKibben,' Snape informed the Headmaster. 'As a Ministry employee, he is of course forced to keep a low profile where his anti-Muggle sentiments are concerned, but from what I have heard, he does whatever he can to keep the Wizarding society pure.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'He was quite active in the campaign to ban Wizard-Muggle marriages. Thank Merlin, that law did not go through.' He stroked his beard pensively and fixed his Potions master with an intensive look. 'Tell me, Severus, is the girl showing any signs of having been raised with anti-Muggle beliefs? There are a few Muggle-borns in Slytherin House. How does she interact with them?'

'In the nicest way possible,' Snape declared. 'I think Miss McKibben might be in the library as we speak, helping Mr Herrington with his homework.'

'Charles Herrington?' Dumbledore enquired. 'He's Muggle-born.'

'Indeed,' Snape confirmed. 'And I think he and Miss McKibben might be friends. From what I have heard, they study quite often together and have been seen together in Hogsmeade.'

'I assume this is not a way in which Voldemort wants his Death Eaters-to-be to spend her free time. In the company of a Muggle-born, I mean.'

Snape snorted. 'Most certainly not. In fact, the Dark Lord has asked me to speak to Miss McKibben in order to find out if she is worthy to join his ranks. If I tell him that she is socialising with Muggle-borns ...'

'Don't tell him, Severus.'

Snape frowned. Why would Dumbledore not want him to tell Voldemort that the girl's best friend was Muggle-born? Certainly, that piece of information would make Voldemort think twice about letting her take his mark.

'Don't tell him, Severus,' Dumbledore repeated. 'If Voldemort learns that the girl has a weak spot, he will use it against her. You know that as well as I do.'

'You mean, me judging her to be unworthy of joining will not save her?' Snape asked, feeling his stomach clench.

Dumbledore shook his head. 'I'm afraid it won't. In fact, I fear that Voldemort might use this piece of knowledge as a weapon. I wouldn't put it beyond him to make the girl prove her loyalties towards him by asking her to kill her best friend. We mustn't expose either of them to such danger.'

Snape nodded. He should have known that it wasn't going to be easy.

~ ~ ~

It was the third Saturday of the term and time for Miss McKibben's third detention. It was – most probably – also the last chance Snape had to talk to her. She would turn seventeen on Friday. Next Saturday, she would be out of reach.

Snape looked around his study. This was not going to be yet another detention with Miss McKibben reading some chapters in the textbook and him letting her cast some counter curses after lunch. He had to get through to her today. He had to make her understand what it meant to be a servant to the Dark Lord. Hence, his study was even darker and more fear inducing than usual.

The girl was waiting outside the door of the Potions classroom at exactly ten o'clock, just like she had done the previous Saturday and the one before. And as Snape told her that she would be serving her detention in his study instead, she just nodded and followed him wordlessly. Would she do the Dark Lord's bidding as well, Snape wondered. Just as silently and without any comment? He desperately hoped not.

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she entered his study, but by the time he had charmed the door shut behind them, the girl had already banished any sign of shock or surprise from her face. But she stood rigid, and Snape know that every muscle in her body had tensed up. He had expected nothing less. His study certainly looked like one of the Muggle Ghost Trains he had once visited with Lily when there had been a fair in town.

'Today, Miss McKibben, we are going to study the effects of the Dark Arts,' he started. 'Can you tell me what curse might be responsible for theses injuries?'

A slight wrinkling of her tiny nose was the only reaction Snape got from the girl as she eyed the picture he had indicated. It showed a bloody heap of flesh which – upon closer consideration – could be interpreted as the remains of a man who seemed to have been flayed alive.

'Excorio,' she identified the curse correctly.

'How does this curse work?' Snape demanded to know.

'It removes the skin from the body, inch by inch. If cast properly, the victim can be kept alive for hours.'

Snape nodded pensively. A textbook answer, except that this curse was not described in any textbook available at Hogwarts. Why the girl knew anything about this curse, however, he did not want to ask.

'What about this picture, Miss McKibben?' he asked, indicating a second one. In this, the victim – a young witch – was still moving, twitching uncontrollably. As Snape removed the Silencing Charm, her screams of agony cut through the silence of the dungeon like knives. And to his utter relief, Snape saw the girl flinch.

'Can you name the curse?' he asked once he had silenced the picture again.

'The Cruciatus Curse, I assume,' Nadezhda replied, her voice trembling slightly. 'It causes excruciating pain without physically harming the victim. It's one of the Unforgivable Curses.'

Once more, Snape nodded and pointed towards a third picture. It showed a boy of about five. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He looked as if he were sleeping.

'Avada Kedavra,' Snape pointed out. 'What can you tell me about it?'

'It's a Killing Curse. It leaves no trace. When the body is examined, there are no identifiable marks for the cause of death. The victims seem perfectly fine apart from the fact that they are dead.'

The girl's cheeks had become paler, and Snape could see that her jaw was clenched. And he decided that it was time to go even further.

'I want you to read the text on the back of those three pictures,' he instructed. 'Loud and clear, if you please.'

The girl stepped forward and picked up the first picture. 'Unidentified Muggle. Cause of death: blood loss due to removal of the skin. Suspect: Evan Rosier.'

'The Rosiers were one of the first families to join the Dark Lord,' Snape explained. 'I assume you are familiar with the name?'

The girl just nodded.

'Evan Rosier kills for fun,' Snape went on. 'This Muggle had probably done nothing wrong except being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Rosier just wanted to play. Go on to the second picture.'

'Katherine McKenzie. Tortured to insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange.'

'Another name that sounds familiar, I assume,' Snape pointed out. 'The Cruciatus Curse is Bellatrix's speciality. She loves it. And she is damn good at it. Have another look at the picture, Miss McKibben.'

The girl eyed the tormented but now silent witch for some moments. When she paled, Snape understood that she had seen the Dark Mark on the woman's left forearm.

'Not even Death Eaters go safe. Katherine McKenzie took the Mark when she was about your age. When she realised what she had done, what it meant to be a follower of the Dark Lord, she tried to defect. She managed to hide for almost two years. Then she was tracked down.' He nodded towards the picture of the dead boy. 'This was William McKenzie. As I know Bellatrix, she made Katherine watch her son die. You tell me what is worse for a woman: watch her child being murdered or being tortured herself.'

The girl didn't answer. Snape hadn't expected her to either. But he had expected – hoped for – the reaction that he now saw: the girl was deadly pale, her hands were trembling, and he could have sworn that he saw tears shine in her eyes.

'This is what Death Eaters do,' he went on. 'They kill, they torture. Some do it on command, others do it for pleasure. But sooner or later, they all do it. Are you ready for that?'

The girl squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and Snape hoped she would shake her head. But instead, she clenched her fists at her side.

'Do you want this?' Snape asked, his tone cold and threatening. 'Do you want to become one of them?'

'I have no choice.'

The girl's voice wasn't more than a whisper but filled with so much desperation that it rang through the silence like a church bell.

'What do you mean, you have no choice?' Snape asked. 'The Dark Lord will not burn his Mark into the arm of someone who is not willing to serve him.'

'I have to join him,' the girl whispered. 'If I don't, I will not survive my birthday.'

~ ~ ~

'He made her swear. He made her take the Unbreakable Vow. He condemned his own daughter.'

Snape was beside himself. He had seen many cruelties, had suffered many of them by the hand of his own father, but this was beyond anything he could imagine.

He had not needed to use Legilimency or Veritaserum on Nadezhda. She had told him willingly how her father had transferred his hatred of Muggles onto her and made her swear that she would do anything to avenge the death of her mother and brother. She had also told him that she had been too young then to understand what her father had been asking of her. It had first been when she had come to Hogwarts, when she for the first time in her life had come face to face with Muggle-borns and Half-bloods that she had realised that her father's teachings had been wrong, that they were neither monsters nor ruthless killers. But by that time, it had been too late. Her father had joined the Dark Lord, and he expected her to do the same.

Snape accepted the glass of Firewhisky Dumbledore handed him and drained it. He was shaken to the core. He was aware that quite a few students in his House were fascinated by the Death Eaters and would sooner or later join the Dark Lord. But they would do so out of their own accord. Nadezhda had no choice, and she didn't want to join.

'Will Voldemort accept her?' Dumbledore asked. His voice sounded strained, too. 'Or will he understand that she will never be a loyal follower and refuse her?'

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, not sure if it was the whisky that made him dizzy or the hopelessness of the situation.

'If the Dark Lord refuses her, that will be her certain death,' he concluded. 'Her father's spell will kill her.'

'Maybe death would be a fate less cruel.'

Snape's head snapped up, and he stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. He must have misheard. 'What are you saying, Headmaster?'

Dumbledore sadly shook his head. 'Let us be honest, Severus. How long will the girl last? Will she make it past her first killing? Or will she be unable to take a life and be punished instead? Or will she try to hide and end up like Katherine McKenzie?'

'What do you suggest we do?' Snape asked, a prominent note of desperation in his voice. 'We have to do something!'

'Would it be possible to delay the girl's initiation?' Dumbledore asked. 'Can you convince Voldemort that she is not ready, that she needs further training? If we could win another month or two ...'

'What good will another month or two do?' Snape asked.

'It may make all the difference in the world for Nadezhda,' Dumbledore replied. 'If we are lucky, there will be no Dark Lord left to whom she can pledge her allegiance by the start of November.'