A Breach of Trust

The Halloween feast at Hogwarts was always keenly anticipated and, by half past six, students were milling around the corridors, looking for friends from other houses. Since this year's feast was supposed to be, in part, a celebration of Professor Dumbledore's achievement, dress robes were permitted, and groups of giggling girls could be observed dashing into bathrooms to check their reflections, compare outfits and share the contents of their make-up bags.

Everyone knew that the Headmaster liked a clear half-hour alone in the Great Hall to compose himself and to look over his speech. This was particularly acutely felt today, as everyone was expecting him to make an acceptance speech for his new post, and no one wanted to disturb or distract him as he made his way down from his office on the second floor.

Sybill Trelawney, however, had more important matters on her mind than the Headmaster's speech. Since her conversation outside the staff room with Professor Snape's wife, she had become increasingly uneasy. Alina's behaviour had struck her as more than a little suspicious, and she was determined to force Dumbledore to read her letter of warning.

Albus Dumbledore prided himself on the fact that his door was always open, at any time, for staff and students alike to seek advice or assistance. The one person he wished he could make the exception to the rule was Sybill Trelawney. It was only the fact that she had made two catastrophically accurate predictions about Lord Voldemort that stopped him removing Divination from the timetable completely.

He had always had the feeling that she was really far more trouble than she was worth, and in recent years had become increasingly irritated by her erratic behaviour. The last few days were a case in point. While he was quite used to her hysterical outbursts, he thought he had made it perfectly clear that she was to speak to him in private to avoid alarming the students. She had, however, taken to following him around the castle, and when he saw her hurrying towards him, waving a sheet of parchment, he felt really quite disinclined to humour her latest bout of histrionics.

'Well, Sybill,' he said with forced cheerfulness, 'the Halloween feast has come.'

'Yes, Headmaster,' she replied, 'but not gone.' She regarded him with massively magnified eyes. 'Headmaster, I beg you to read this letter. Do not delay, for the omens all point to...'

Albus' attention wandered. He really did not have time to be drawn into yet another of her fortune-telling sessions, and was extremely relieved when Professor Snape and a number of his house emerged from their basement corridor. He felt, as he often did when confronted by Trelawney, that he needed rescuing, and Severus was just the man to do it.

'Good evening, Severus. Ready for the feast?' Dumbledore asked amiably.

'Yes, Headmaster.'

Malfoy stepped forward. 'Professor, we've got a request for you. Read this deposition, please.'

'Headmaster,' Trelawney insisted, 'read this first. It concerns you most closely.'

'That which concerns me, Sybill, I shall leave until last. Come, Severus. Let me hear your house's petition.'

Dumbledore moved off towards the Great Hall, but the Slytherins were prevented from following him by Horace Slughorn who rounded the corner at that moment and hailed Malfoy genially.

'Draco, my boy! The best of evenings to you. Good luck tonight. I hope your venture will succeed.'

Malfoy turned to Snape, an expression of panic on his pale face, and spoke in an agitated whisper. 'He knows, sir, I'm sure he does! What do we do now?'

'We carry on as planned, Draco,' Severus hissed. 'Control yourself.'

Slughorn had heard none of this. 'Awful woman, Dolores Umbridge. Never could understand how she got to teach here. And I know I shouldn't show favouritism towards my own house, but I wasn't at all happy to hear she had expelled young Mulciber. I taught his father, you know. Great student. Good luck! Confidently expect Ruthven to be back amongst us next year!'

He moved off towards his office and Severus raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, who sagged against him in relief.

'Where's Mulciber? We need to get this over with.' He pushed Malfoy roughly away, and led his students into the Great Hall before any of them (including him) could change their minds.

Professor Dumbledore was organising the pages of his speech on the great gold lectern before the High Table.

'Go on, Mulciber,' Severus urged. 'Put your petition to the Headmaster.'

Dumbledore had stepped out from behind the lectern now, and was regarding the trembling boy attentively.

Suddenly Mulciber dropped to his knees. 'Professor Dumbledore, sir, my brother, Ruthven... Please let him come back, sir. Please overturn his expulsion.' Despard looked up at the Headmaster with what he considered to be convincing tears in his eyes. 'Please, sir. I miss him.'

'Well, you see, Mr Mulciber, I do not think I can do that. Your brother was expelled under Professor Umbridge's regime, and I cannot overturn his sentence.'

'If I might speak, Headmaster.' Severus shouldered his way between Goyle and Zabini. 'Ruthven Mulciber's offence was, as you say, committed under Dolores Umbridge's old regime. The actual crime was, if I remember correctly, reading a certain edition of "The Quibbler". An edition that, everyone now knows, was accurate in every detail. Surely such an act of mercy as we are proposing would look well on your first day as Minister for Magic.'

'As Minister for Magic, Severus, how would it look if I were to undermine the authority of one of my predecessors at Hogwarts? Especially a woman who holds an important post in the Ministry. If I appear unable to trust the judgement of my staff, how am I to enjoy the confidence of the public?'

"He would rather side with the originator of the Muggle-born Registration Committee than a child in his own school," Severus thought, and the realisation brought him to his knees beside Mulciber.

'Do not kneel to me, Severus. You have not done that in seventeen years,' Dumbledore said, but his voice was not kindly, and Severus was reminded of the words that had pierced his soul on that windswept hilltop, when he had been pleading for help, for protection, for her: 'You disgust me.'

His head bowed, his expression masked by curtains of black hair, Severus gave an almost imperceptible nod.

With the lightning-quick reactions born of five years' Quidditch training, Malfoy twisted Dumbledore's wrist, flicking his wand out of his hand and out into a wide arc across the Hall. He and Zabini wrenched the old man's arms up behind his back, and Goyle pulled the long white hair so that his head was forced back.

It all took less than a second and, before he knew what was happening, Dumbledore was wandless, helpless and pinned to the golden lectern. His eyes widened in shock as he realised what had just happened, what was about to happen; as Severus raised his wand. The pale eyes met the dark ones, just for a second, but offered no resistance.

'I trusted you, Severus,' Dumbledore breathed.

There was a tumultuous expression on Severus' face as he pointed his wand straight at Dumbledore's heart – part revulsion, part fear, part utter conviction.

'Avada Kedavra!'

A flash of green light and the Headmaster's body sagged against his captors, who staggered under the weight and just managed to lower it to the ground. Severus had struck before he lost his nerve, before the others were ready, and had caught them off guard.

Pages of Dumbledore's speech fluttered down around him.

The students stood transfixed, staring, horrified. Only their tutor was in control of his wits.

'Out of here, quickly. Back to your common room. Divert anyone coming this way. Go! We have very little time.'

Most of the Slytherins turned to obey, but Malfoy was still rooted to the spot, eyes glazed.

'What happens now?' he whispered. 'They'll find us, catch us. We're going to die too, aren't we?'

'Everyone dies, Malfoy.' Severus swung the boy round to face him by the shoulders. 'We are in the hands of Fate. You knew that when you suggested this.' He gave a mirthless, unpleasant laugh. 'Everyone dies. It's just when, and how to ward it off, that concerns us.'

Blaise Zabini put his hand on Malfoy's shaking shoulder. 'If that's true, then we've done Dumbledore a favour. We've stopped him worrying about it haven't we?'

Malfoy gulped and nodded. It was a slender reed on which to lean, but he clutched at it and hung on. 'Then that's what we'll tell the school, sir.'

'Tell them the school is safe. Tell them the students are free. Tell them it's over.'

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A/N Snape's recollection of the events on the hilltop (DH Ch 33) is not accurate, (Dumbledore was disgusted not by his pleading, but by his willingness to sacrifice Harry and James), but in its turmoil, his mind has reorganised events.

Snape's lines: 'Out of here, quickly' and 'It's over' are from HBP Ch 28.