Chapter 2 – Veritas odium parit

A/N: A response to the Potter Place Post-Deathly-Hallows Prompt Challenge. Some might consider the characters a little OOC. Some organisations and Ministry of Magic departments are made-up.

For the Benefit of the Unforgiven

Chapter 2 – Veritas odium parit

At half-past six in the evening, I was staring at the invitation while sitting at my dressing table in my flat. I wondered as to the sort of sustenance my host would be offering me, and whether he or she would be inclined to kill me the moment I arrived. Just to be safe, I would have my wand at the ready when I portkeyed to the rendezvous spot. Thus resolved, I straightened my simple navy blue robes and checked my hair bun, before gripping my wand in my left hand, prying off the silver insignia from the black parchment card and incinerating the anonymous note. As I did so, I felt the familiar Portkey sensation of being dragged away by my bellybutton and saw the images around me swirling like an uneven splash of colour.

When my feet found themselves on solid ground again, I saw that I was before the tall structure of a medieval keep, staring straight at its heavy doors. My brain told me, rather unnecessarily, that I had gotten myself in a fair predicament. I had allowed my vanity to get the better of me and I had Portkeyed to a stone building that looked like the sister of the Tower of London with no one knowing whither I had gone. While backing away slowly from the edifice and mentally kicking myself in the arse, the doors creaked open. Instead of hitching up my robes and running away or Apparating home like a normal sensible witch, I remained rooted to the ground. My infernal curiosity was determined to see who or what had opened the door. Keeping myself calm by tightening my grip on my wand and reminding myself that a level head would extract me out of whatever horrors awaited me, I waited for something to happen. Shuffling footsteps were heard, and soon, the ambling figure of the fat, surly manservant who had stopped by my office at the Ministry in the morning came into view carrying a candle.

He gave no indication of surprise at my arrival and from his behaviour, I gathered I was expected. Instantly, I came to the conclusion that Draco had set up this elaborate rouse to thank me for that which I did for his father. Rather clever of him, I admitted grudgingly to myself as I followed the manservant into the antechamber and thence the dining parlour. Judging from the décor, I would say that the interior was distinctively Jacobean. A part of me was relieved to know that I was in still in England, that is, I was relieved until stepped into the opulent dining parlour. Someone was already seated in the high backed wingchair waiting for me. That could not bode well. Draco would have better manners than to remain seated when I was announced into his presence. He would at least have turned around to acknowledge my presence, but my host – whoever he or she was, remained seated.

Mastering my apprehension by approaching the seated figure cautiously, I eventually relaxed somewhat when I saw long, tapered fingers offset by an emerald ring in the design of an ouroboros. I could just make up the emerald eyes of the heavy silver snake on my host's finger when my attention was swiftly drawn to the visage of my host.

Thinly pursing my lips at the unwanted surprise of seeing this particular wizard, I flashed him a disinterested look and raised a brow at the figure whose steepled hands rested on his pale lips. Lucius Malfoy was still more or less the same wizard that I last saw two years ago. However, his time in isolation had changed him. He seemed not to notice my presence, for he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Was he reflecting on his past actions and the consequences they had wrought on his family? If so, it seemed as though his reflections and regrets were taking a toll on him. Indeed, I noted that his formerly long, lustrous platinum blond locks had been cut short in the style of his son, and swept completely away from his prepossessing face so as to cling neatly to his scalp. While he still had that certain commanding air about him, his brow was creased with unspoken anxiety. Contrary to his appearance before the war, he was haggard now. Even his garb, which was formerly ostentatious even by wizarding standards, was altered. His present garb for the evening lacked the marks of a wealthy man, but was by no means drab. No, it was now more sober rather than sombre. As soon I sat down at the table across him, the glassed-over look in his eyes dissipated and looked up at me with a nod.

"I thank you for joining me under these circumstances. I regret the deception undertaken to lure you here, but it was necessary," he began in carefully moderated voice. "I felt certain you would not have seen me otherwise."

Instead of dignifying the veracity of his assessment with an acknowledgment, I flashed him a cold glance. "I should have known it was you. The insignia on the Earl of Huntingdon's coat of arms had a cursive M emblazoned on it. May I enquire why you have arranged for this meeting, deploying an untraceable letter and unregistered portkey?"

His eyes met mine in a tired though meaningful way. "I never thought I would find a use for this estate in Northumberland. I inherited it from my mother on her death. She was descended from Maud de St Liz, and was a fine figure of a witch." His lips twitched into a rueful smile at the memory of his departed mother before his eyes hardened once again. "Miss Granger, I do not and will not pretend to be ignorant of all that you and your friend have done for me. It was very good of him to vouchsafe for the thoughtfulness of my wife and my son's character. It was also very good of you to arrange for my confinement at St Mungo's. It was infinitely preferable to Azkaban." He clasped his hands tightly together as if still plagued by the memories of his time in that prison shortly before the outbreak of the war. "My son, who was to arrange a meeting between us, informs me you will not see him, so I have taken my own steps to arrange for this meeting."

"Mr Malfoy, your praises and thanks are quite wasted on a jaded witch," I said with an air of calm authority as I disliked the turn of his conversation. I have had enough of people coming up to me, asking to shake my hand for being one of the golden trio to bring down Voldemort. Truth be told, I was sick to my stomach of hearing such things.

His lips quirked into a smirk as a nerve in his temple throbbed delicately. "Really? You must edify me then." He paused to take a spoonful of soup that had materialised on the table. "You are not quite the sort of person I am used to dealing with."

"And I am not used to being spoken to in such a manner. Pray, Mr Malfoy, would you kindly edify me as to why I feel like I am in a Roman amphitheatre waiting to be devoured by some beast?"

"So, is that how you see me – a beast, eh?" He commented in an enigmatic tone. "I will not devour you, or threaten your life, or Crucio you, if that's what you are thinking."

"Then why am I here? Convince me this isn't some entrapment," I responded, turning the wineglass in my hand.

"I might say the same of you, Miss Granger. I cannot fail to notice that your left hand is still holding onto your wand in your lap."

Lucius Malfoy and I then exchanged intelligible looks of mutual respect and distrust with half smiles.

"It is the only natural reaction to have when I feel like I am about to be ambushed from all sides," I said cautiously sniffing at the wine in my glass, "like a Christian in a Roman amphitheatre, waiting to be torn to shreds."

"Now that you remark on it," he interposed, his gaze still locked on me, "We have much to learn from the Roman theatres. Roman Emperors used to put on plays in theatres so well built that the words would echo about, so as to impress their policies on the people." He paused and took a sip of his wine. "Or if the censor failed in his duty, agitators could put on work to rouse the rabble. Which sort of theatre do you think this is – one where the rabble rousers do their worst or one where I impress my views upon you?"

"It depends," I replied, mocking him with what I hoped was a cynical look. "I do not know what you want from me."

"I gather you are acquainted with the fact that Severus's body was never recovered. It is lamentable that some of your lot..." He wrinkled his nose disdainfully as he emphasised the last word. "Well, some of your lot believe that certain Death Eaters were none too pleased with discovering his role as a double-agent and destroyed his body."

"Do you mean to insinuate, Mr Malfoy, that Professor Snape's corpse is somewhere out there?" I quizzed.

"You apprehend the matter quite keenly, as my son said you would." His lips curled into an almost cat-like smile. "You see, Miss Granger, I have followed your career with much interest, and in so doing, I uncovered a delicious titbit. I have heard that as well as heading the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and declining a seat on the Wizengamot, you are also something of an investigator."

At which point, I raised my brow suspiciously at him.

"By which I mean," he continued unaffectedly, "your interest in delving into cryptic subject matters has led you to make several new discoveries."

Of course this was true, for I had a keen interest in esoteric wizarding philosophy, and have conducted extensive research in the interpretation of wizarding common law so as to clear up some legal matters for the Ministry shortly before my elevation to my current position. "Are you going to tell me that your possessions were purloined by person or persons unknown? If so, I suggest you lodge a report with the Auror Department."

"Oh no," Lucius Malfoy stated blandly. "Not anything from the family collection or anything entrusted to the family. Something far more significant was taken from me, videlicet, my good name."

I regarded him closely so as to master the laughter that was threatening to spill from my throat. Somehow I managed to keep myself in check and eye him gravely. "As a former Death Eater, sir, you already do not possess a good name."

"Nonetheless, my good name has been taken away, and my wife is understandably upset. The taunts that Narcissa had to endure this afternoon when she returned from visiting the graves of her sisters were unwarranted," he said calmly through clenched teeth.

"Your uxorious devotion is very moving, I am sure," I answered, meeting his eyes frostily. "But you only have yourself to blame for the loss of your good name. Moreover, even if someone did, as you say, take away your good name, I do not see how they could do so without your good body being present at the time."

"I take it that you did read the slanders published in this morning's issue of the Daily Prophet?" he asked.

I shook my head firmly as he twisted the ring on his finger.

"I see," he murmured before pointing his wand at a side cabinet and levitating the newspaper on it towards me. "You might be interested to learn that my good name was tarnished today by an allegation that I did away with Severus's body."

The offending article was duly perused, and I was overcome with disgust at the piece. However, I did not allow myself to show it. "What do you expect to do about it? I am not part of the Office of Law at the Ministry."

"That is where you can help." The earlier smirk on his face was erased and replaced with one of genuine concern. "Of course, I would never dream of asking someone in your... exalted position to act as a private investigator, but I know of no one else whom I can trust," he said lowly in something of a purr. "Draco has spoken of your what-did-he-call it... discretion. So I am leaving things up to you. As a member of the Ministry with access to all the relevant documents and people, you will be well-placed to learn of anything. I will pay you a token sum for this service. My belief is that..."

"I haven't said I have accepted your terms yet, Mr Malfoy," I reminded him, rising from my chair.

"What if I told you I believe Severus to be alive?" he interjected hastily, his gaze beseeching me to assist him.

My curiosity was instantly piqued. "Go on," I said quietly, flicking a dismissive wrist in his direction as I resumed my seat.

"Thank you," said he with a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Bodies don't just disappear. Even if they are destroyed, there would be some kind of residue of body fat, or a finger. With Severus, it is almost as if he disappeared into thin air. I would like you to disprove these slanders and allay my wife's fear of meeting hushed whispers about her husband and son whenever she goes abroad."

"How do you propose I perform this feat?" I asked, curling my lips into a snarl that I quickly mastered.

"I have in my possession a casket. Not just any casket, but a lead casket I believe to contain some papers of import. It was given to me by my son, who had in turn received it from Severus when my unfortunate friend was briefly Headmaster at Hogwarts. Severus told Draco that he had entrusted a sealed box to the casket, and instructed Draco never to open it except in the time of the direst need for our family, or for the expressed use of finding out the truth about him."

I raised a brow waiting for my host to continue. "Just what is this truth?"

Lucius Malfoy delicately dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "I am not very sure, but I think it contains some of Severus's papers which may give us a hint as to what happened to him after his so-called death by the magically enhanced venom of a spectacled cobra."

"What makes you so sure he survived, other than the fact that his corpse is missing?"

"It may interest you to know that Severus was the Dark Lord's potions brewer. He had used Nagini's venom in many potions to strengthen the body of the Dark Lord, and as is customary for Severus, he always tests the potions on himself. In the course of slaving for the Dark Lord, Severus's habit of trying the effectiveness of the potions on himself led him down two paths. One – he built up some kind of resistance to the venom. Two – he concocted a serum that acted as an antidote to the venom. I know the second to be true because Severus had given a vial of the counter-serum to the members of my immediate family when he saw the dreadful conditions under which the Dark Lord had placed us during our house-arrest. He had, as he himself said at the time, feared for our lives. Given that the Dark Lord never liked dirtying his own hands unless it was absolutely necessary, Severus thought it likely that the cobra would be the instrument of our demise when our existence was deemed to be no longer expedient to our Master. Of course, he made us swear never to reveal the existence of the counter-serum to the Dark Lord. I am proud to say we kept our promise."

"I do not mean to impugn your character, Mr Malfoy, but I find it difficult to rely on your account of things," I interjected with an honest remark. Then when his brow darkened, I adopted a more diplomatic tone. "I have no doubt of the existence of a counter-serum to the venom of Voldemort's snake. I am acquainted with Professor Snape's skills in potions brewing. Thus, I can readily believe his foresight in concocting an antidote so to speak. From my limited observation of him, I know enough of his character to be aware that Professor Snape was the sort of man to make contingency plans. The existence of the antidote fits in with this shrewd aspect of his nature. However, I marvel at your confident suggestion that he may still be alive."

Lucius silenced me with a scathing look. "What if I told you Severus always carried a vial of the counter-serum on his person? What if I told you I found him in the Shrieking Shack when the rest of you were celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord?"

"And how did you know he was in the shack?" I narrowed my eyes at him

"I asked my other compatriots and they revealed that the Dark Lord had sent for him while he was encamped there. As Severus was never seen returning from that place, I assumed he must have still been there. I exploited the general euphoria stemming from the Dark Lord's death, bade Narcissa take Draco home, and I set off to find Severus. I did find him in the Shrieking Shack, unconscious, lying in a pool of his own blood where he had been bitten by the snake. I took a gamble when I examined his body. His pulse was faint and nearly non-existent, so I took a chance. I sealed the site of the bleeding and poured the vial of the counter-serum, which he always kept in the left inner pocket of his robes, down his throat."

"And did he survive?"

"I think he did."

"You mean you did not secrete him somewhere?" I quizzed, struggling to keep my irritation in check.

"Call me a coward if you must, Miss Granger, though I would prefer it if it were out of my earshot," he smirked contemptuously at himself upon taking another sip from his glass. "As much as I wanted to take Severus with me, I sensed the presence of other wizarding magical energies within the immediate vicinity of the shack. Fearing that they were rounding up Death Eaters, I Disapparated home to rejoin my wife and son so as to bid them farewell should the authorities come for me. I can see by the look on your face that you are repulsed by my leaving Severus behind. But I did not think. I did what I could and left before anyone could find me."

My mind was reeling from these revelations and I had to steady myself by finally downing some of the wine. "Something must have happened in the interim when you Disapparated from the Shack and we arrived to reclaim Professor Snape's corpse."

"Sorry?" came the puzzled voice of my host.

I spat the wine into my napkin to contain my ironic laughter. Was my host pretending not to understand me or was he being facetious? In any case, I recomposed myself and addressed him. "You said you Disapparated when you sensed the presence of other wizards in the area. Those other wizards were Harry, Ron and me. We were at the gate of the Shack when we saw this white light glimmer briefly at the window. We thought nothing of it at the time, thinking it a trick of the light. When we finally arrived at the Shack, Professor Snape's body was no longer there, just a small pool of blood."

He cast me a knowing half-smile, stroking the top of his ring thoughtfully. "Which makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Where could he have gone if he is indeed still alive?"

"That's what I need you to find out." He promptly picked up the bell from the table and rang it sharply. The surly manservant ambled back into the dining parlour and scowled at his employer. "Ah, Ivan, would you please retrieve for me the lead casket and the two books on the mantelpiece in the drawing room?" As this Ivan fellow shuffled away, Lucius refilled my glass. "Your eyes tell me you are curious as to true identity of Draco's valet. I will tell you." He smirked lazily, looking much more like his old self. "That is Ivan Shuvalov, Igor Karkaroff's younger half-brother and a squib. When Igor departed this life, there was no one to look after Ivan. I made it a point to search for him and provide him with meaningful employment. He may look disagreeable but he is very loyal, a trait that is sorely wanting in the domestic staff nowadays with all this nonsense of unionising the house-elves." His eyes undertook a contemptuous gleam. "Unionising house-elves! Ha! What next? Organised strikes by house-elves? Dashedly absurd!"

I coughed loudly into my napkin and shot him a reproachful look.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," said he smoothly. "I had quite forgotten you are a champion of theirs. Times change, so should our ways, I suppose." Fortunately, Ivan Shuvalov returned at that moment with the casket. "Thank you, my good man."

The valet withdrew and the imperturbable Mr Malfoy turned to me with a smile. "Draco should be the one telling you all this, but he is still somewhat embarrassed that you had turned down his offer for tea. He very much wanted to be the one who sought for your help, seeing how Severus is his godfather. But because I too have a vested interest in the matter, it fell on me to do the honours." He paused to hold out the object to me. "This is it – the thing which may prove Severus is alive."

Eyeing him suspiciously, I ran through the standard gamut of spells to ensure that the object was not an illicit Portkey, or bespelled with curses, or riddled with evil spells. On finding it strangely safe, and un-warded, my curiosity stirred. Silently taking the proffered lead box into my hands, I mentally considered that Lucius was only interested in the contents of this container because it would serve his family from its present ignominy. Then an unpleasant thought struck me, and being an incurably forward person whenever my mental processes were engaged, I gave voice to that which was foremost in my mind. "You have never opened the box?"

"No!" he protested with a hand on his chest in mock shock. "We were charged not to open it unless our family was in desperate danger or if the truth behind Severus needed to be known."

"Which in layman's English means you tried but failed."

"You are uncannily omniscient," he complimented with a smirk at me while twisting the ring on his finger.

The casket was fairly unremarkable. Like most wizarding caskets, it was decorated with carved Celtic knots and cold to the touch. However, this particular design did not seem to have a discernable latch or seal by which it could be opened. If I had not been told this was a box, I would not have thought of it as such. "Curious, very curious," I found myself muttering aloud.

"Indeed it is, Miss Granger," he agreed, pushing two medium sized tomes towards me. "Severus also left these with Draco along with the casket. Also, un-bespelled and completely safe."

"De Lapide Philosophico and Synosius," I read off the spine of the first book, then the other. "Alchemical texts that discuss..."

Interrupting me with the ringing of his wine glass, my epicurean host affected to appear innocent of his deliberate disruption of my thoughts. "They discuss this," he announced, removing the ring from his finger, and tossing it carelessly to me.

"The ouroboros or tail-eater." I took the ring and examined it closely. The craftsmanship was so exquisite that each scale on the snake's body was individually defined and its emerald eyes glittered seductively in the candlelight. No doubt it was goblin made, I mused. I was about to throw it back across the table to Lucius stopped me.

"Keep it. According to Draco, Severus told him the ring was in the inner box of the casket when it came into his possession, part of his mother's dowry plate or something like that," he explained, taking another sip of his wine. "I believe it is the key to opening the box. Alas, my efforts have not been successful. I was hoping you would have better luck."

Turning to him with an impassive expression, I curled my lips forcefully into an uneasy smile. "All this to spare your wife the shame of being whispered at? It is most diverting. You must realise, do you not, that even if, and this is a very big if, we uncover what really happened to Professor Snape that fateful day, even if he is indeed still alive somewhere, we may not be able to publicise it."

"I know. Those mad dogs calling themselves my former compatriots want my blood and Narcissa's for helping Potter. Those mad dogs on your side can't wait for me to slip up so that they can throw me in Azkaban. A no-win game in either case for me and my family." A pain expression then crossed his face. "But I need, no, want to prove to Narcissa that I did not do away with Severus Snape's body. She never says anything about it to me, but I can see the accusation in her eyes. She deserves to know the truth. I need to know the truth as to what happened to a man who remained a friend to me in spite of the falling of my fortunes with the Dark Lord. I have long wanted to locate Severus, now I am asking you to do it for me. Please, I beg of you."

I sighed inwardly out of compassion for the wizard before me. He had truly spent a great deal of time reflecting on his past while at St Mungo's. However, in light of his past, it struck me as odd that he should be my supplicant. "I never knew you were one to stoop to entreat a Muggle-born for a favour. How do you do it?" I sneered with a bite to my voice.

"Very easily, Miss Granger," he answered, turning to face me without a trace of his former arrogance. "I make it a point to now live by the motto of my mother's ancestor, Maud of Northumbria – in veritate victoria, victory lies in the truth."

NOTES:

'Veritas odium parit' is Latin for 'truth breeds hatred', and is a quote from Terence.

'In veritate victoria' is Latin for 'victory lies in the truth' and is the motto of the Earls of Huntingdon.

To clarify – Maud de St Liz was also known as Maud of Northumbria.

I was alerted to the probability that some readers might think a casket is a coffin. Coming from a tradition where casket = box used for the storage of jewellery, and coffin = box where you put a dead body, I was rather surprised to learn of this. So, to clarify matters, in this story, casket = box for the storage of jewellery.