Chapter 5 – Veritas vos liberabit

A/N: A response to the Potter Place Post-Deathly-Hallows Prompt Challenge using prompts 3, 10 and 18. 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 5 – Veritas vos liberabit

The next few days were uneventful. I willed myself to rewrite the horrible proposed bill, and allowed Ron to find me in my office, gently scratching my mark on parchment, apparently oblivious to any words he could say about my preferences for work over him. By Thursday, the bill was more or less in a presentable form and submitted to the policy dunderheads for evaluation, and I was at liberty to carry out my obligations to the Malfoys by allowing them to meet with Tacitus the house-elf. Friday evening was set aside for our rendezvous, and I dare say all parties involved were in nervous trepidation. Despite knowing what I did, namely that Professor Snape was alive and well – even if the Father Superior of the Order would not directly confess to it, I doubted that I would make any headway in my self-imposed mission of meeting him. I wondered how things were progressing at the wizarding monastery of Kellia at Nitria. Had the Abbot interceded successfully on my behalf to Brother Benedict of Nursia? Would the elder permit this extraordinary request from a stranger he did not know he could trust? I would have to wait until Saturday before I found out. In the meantime, Tacitus and I were expected at Malfoy Manor.

That evening Tacitus and I arrived at Malfoy Manor to find the lord and lady of the manor in an unusually sober mood. Draco was conspicuously absent. Both were clad in black, and strangely enough, so were Tacitus and I. Mr Malfoy was in his usual robes. Mrs Malfoy on the other hand, left her golden hair unbound, and wore a black chiffon gown. Both favoured my companion and me with a polite nod. The two of them presented a fair prospect. Yet there was a certain awkwardness between them. I knew better than to judge by faces, and with Lucius Malfoy that evening, I did not try. His mouth had taken on a vain and silly smile at my arrival, but his eyes were hardened and anxious. He looked at me keenly and penetratingly, but I sensed more melancholy than suspicion in his gaze, as though he understood that trust and affection were folly, but still regretted that that was so. His wife, though of regal bearing, was easier to assess. She had red lips and pink cheeks, and an expression of sweetness which I knew instinctively was feigned, as such expressions always are.

"Miss Granger," the wizard who-would-clear-his-name-to-his-wife took my hand warmly and bowed low over it. "Dare I hope that you have good news to report?"

"It might be good news of a sort," I answered plainly. "Mrs Malfoy, your husband hired me to investigate into the matter of Professor Snape's disappearance. I am pleased to report that he did not murder Professor Snape or destroy his body. He had in fact done his utmost to save Professor Snape after he had been left for dead by..." I paused for diplomatic phrase. I was loath to pronounce Voldemort's name before the Malfoys for fear of agitating them. In the end, I decided to bluster on with the truth. "It was assumed that Nagini's bite had killed him and he was left for dead."

"And?" she looked at me beseechingly.

"Mr Malfoy had sealed the wound where he had bitten and administered the antidote to Professor Snape before he fled on hearing foreign footsteps and sensing foreign magical energies. I am sure, he would commit that memory to a pensieve for the sake of confirmation," I continued.

She waved a languid hand before seizing mine. "He had done so last night on your recommendation." She paused and her eyes bore into mine. "What about Severus? Is he alive?"

"I do not know. I have not seen him," I replied honestly. "However, this house-elf saved him after Mr Malfoy administered the counter-serum."

Narcissa Malfoy looked down at Tacitus and her nose wrinkled briefly in distaste. But to her credit, she carried herself well. Except for the slight flaring of her nostrils, no one would have supposed she thought of house-elves as lesser creatures. "Is he alive?" she asked him in what would have passed for a kind voice.

As was his way, Tacitus spoke through our minds. "No, missy. He expire after I saved him."

"What happened that day?"

Again, Tacitus recounted the conditions in which he found Professor Snape and how he rescued him on the orders of his master and brought him away.

"Who is your master?" Lucius Malfoy asked, visibly intrigued.

I glared at my host and was about to make a curt remark when Tacitus told a bold-faced lie. "Please, sirrah. He order me not to say."

"But you are certain that Severus was alive when you took him away," repeated my hostess.

"Yes, missy," came the ready, unblinking answer. "Too late, it was to save him. My master, nothing he could do. My master buried him in family plot. He be safe now."

"Tell me how your master came to be acquainted with Severus and how he knew he needed rescuing." The face of the lady of the manor lit up like that of a Siren who had caught sight of a sailor in the distance whom she could lure to his demise.

My fears for Tacitus proved to be unfounded, for he seemed to hold his own very well. He managed to deflect all of Narcissa Malfoy's questions much to my amusement and her husband's, as our exchanged glances seemed to say. Tacitus was not an easy being to deal with – that much I could see. As Lucius Malfoy enjoined us to dine, I mentally assessed the likelihood of success if I were to ask Tacitus anything about Professor Snape. Tacitus was a house-elf who spoke freely about distant places, history, and imagined persons. But of anything to do with Professor Snape, he spoke as little as if the truculent professor were hiding within earshot behind one of the velvet curtains with his wand, ready to spring out and avenge the mentioning of his name. I watched him with a tinge of awe as he skirted the probing questions as to the whereabouts of Professor Snape's body and the identity of his master.

This sensation continued to gnaw at me as we left for the wizarding monastery on Saturday, and it was with a great self-determination that I resisted the impulse to questioned Tacitus as to my former potions master's present condition. I knew I could ask all the questions I wanted and still not draw any definitive answer from him. No wonder Professor Dumbledore and Father Damian had used Tacitus for the delicate task of overseeing Professor Snape's overall flight. Now, if only I were granted the opportunity of seeing the good professor for myself. These thoughts ran rampant in my mind as Tacitus brought me to the courtyard of the wizarding monastery.

Despite the fact that I knew the truth as to what happened to Professor Snape, I was still frustrated. Though I was relieved to learn he was alive (contrary to the tale Tactitus spun the Malfoys), I was still dissatisfied. I wanted to see him for myself. How vain I was to assume I would be allowed to see him! I had just spent the previous evening trying to reconcile Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and pre-empt their attempts at any questions pertaining to the present circumstances of their friend. To all intents and purposes, they laboured under the impression that Severus Snape was dead. Mr Malfoy had come into his good name once again, and Mrs Malfoy was once more able to look at her husband with trust in her eyes. Even if they knew Severus Snape was alive, they could not have done aught. They would have nothing to gain by advertising Professor Snape's status as a current member of the living world, for there were rogue Death Eaters still running amok, resentful of their former comrade's role as double agent-spy, and resentful of the Malfoys' escape from incarceration at Azkaban. Their very status as 'rehabilitated' members of society would be at risk if they so much as breathed Professor Snape was alive. There was every indication that the rogue Death Eaters would cause them grievous harm if it came to be known they had assisted Professor Snape, a double agent who had betrayed their Dark Lord. I cannot imagine any rogue Death Eater looking kindly on Lucius Malfoy for administering the counter-serum to a wizard who had betrayed their Dark Lord to Albus Dumbledore's Order. I also could not imagine any rogue Death Eater looking kindly on Narcissa Malfoy for assisting Harry in the Forbidden Forest by colluding to hide his survival from the same Dark Lord. The Malfoys' lips were sealed, and that relieved me, if only a little.

However, while standing dumbly at the courtyard of the wizarding monastery, I was apprehensive once more. Would I be allowed to see my former Professor? What if the elder, Brother Benedict would not see me? What if the Father Superior had lied about the Professor and he was already dead and buried in some corner of Nitria? What if Tacitus had spoken the truth and not a bold-faced lie as I thought? I sought to brace myself for this possibility as Tacitus led me to a stone seat by the fountain before popping off to get the Abbot.

Members of the brethren of the small wizarding community went about their daily activities, either avoiding my curious eyes or nodding a greeting to me, each according to their characters. The high walls around the community and the magical energy resonating from them, was similar to the wards over Hogwarts. After a few minutes in my seat, I began to pace. The movement was purely automatic, for I felt the compulsion to steady my nerves from the uncertainty. Eventually, even my knees succumbed to the trepidation at the things I would uncover that day and I sat down once again, turning matters over in my mind.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," said the portly Father Superior, Abbot, call him what you will. "We have just dined, as you may have surmised. Might I interest you in some wine or fruit?"

"I dined before coming, thank you." I rose so as to better greet him.

"Then I shall make free and send you a fruit basket," Father Damian continued in an avuncular manner similar to Dumbledore's. I could not help but smirk. No wonder Dumbledore and he got along. "Brother Benedict, one of the few who knows me as Cosmas will be happy to meet with you. He is still in the dining hall."

Upon leading me through some narrow vestibules in the inner court of the structure, I soon found myself in a sparsely decorated room of mudbrick bespelled against crumbling from the elemental forces. In this airy room with simple wooden tables and benches, I came face to face with an old, thin, swarthy man of moderate height, who was then in the process of using his wand to heal a sacred ibis. When the sparks from his wand died away and the ibis hopped down the table, flapping its wings in thanks, I noticed that Brother Benedict had an air of abstemious self-control. His gentle and good-humoured face registered my presence with a smile and a frank gaze.

"I will leave it your discretion then," said Father Damian more to Brother Benedict than to me before retreating into the vestibule with the ibis.

When we were finally alone, Brother Benedict fingered the lapis lazuli ankh around his neck, smiled at me and gestured for me to sit. "Cosmas and Brother Alexander informed me you would come here to see Macarius.

"Brother Alexander?"

"A former member of our Order, a squib, whom we protected and sheltered, and who decided he wanted to make a life for himself beyond the shadows. I used to be his elder," Brother Benedict paused and eyed me cautiously. "You may know him as Ivan Shuvalov. He floos us for Halloumi from time to time at a shop in your part of the world selling some of our Order's products."

Suddenly, it all became clear to me. All the dots in the puzzle were finally connected. Then a thought dawned on me. "What if he tells the Malfoys?" I gasped, making a mental note to Obliviate the manservant.

"He would not. I am sure he would not. One does not tell an outsider what goes on in these hallowed walls. Once a member of this Order, one takes a blood-bound unbreakable oath not to tell discuss the Order or its members with strangers. Should the person be so foolish as to attempt such an action, death would befall them. The only exception to this rule is when an Order member has a guest within these walls. These walls, if you must know, are bespelled to keep out those who would do us harm – be they wizards, Muggles or squibs." He levelled his gaze at me. "I already know you have no ill intention towards the wizarding Order at Kellia. Now, tell me your true purpose."

I swallowed hard, suddenly bereft of my prepared explanation. Something from the intense way in his eyes seemed to pierce mine told me that he was a skilled legilimens.

He looked at me kindly, and as he did so, a light pressure swept through my mind. "Please do not be frightened. I apologise for intruding into your private sphere, but one cannot be too sure. We cannot allow our sanctuary to become involved in worldly affairs, you understand."

I nodded in agreement at his unstated opinion as to the shortcomings of most human beings. "Still, I would have preferred prior warning. I would have let you delve into my mind if you had asked."

"You must forgive me, my child. Experience has taught me that an unexpected legilimency attack is the most effective at uncovering the heart of a person." He stared at me, as though deciding whether I was completely trustworthy.

"What did you see?" I asked out of curiosity.

"A warm, affectionate heart more concerned with truth and justice than the other superficial trappings of the world. Have you ever considered joining our sister order? My blood sister, Scholastica, is the Mother Superior of the Coptic wizarding Order of Apollonia at Scete." He chuckled and stroked his chin. "No? What a pity. I can see you have no ill will towards me or Macarius. You have kept your word, and have not revealed a thing. Now, child, tell me your intentions. Why are you here?"

"Is he still among the living?" I asked, releasing the breath that I had unconsciously been holding.

"He is."

"May I see him?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're his elder; because you are the proper person to ask."

"Let us be honest now, my child."

"Very well, you are more likely to tell me how he will receive me."

Brother Benedict stared at the wall behind me for a while without speaking. Then he broke the silence, looking at me straight in the eyes. "You show initiative. You may see him, but on no account must you ask him to leave. He will leave when he is ready. At present, he is not ready to face the world, not just yet."

"Thank you." My voice was thin and quiet; my heartbeat uneven. "Where..."

"Turn left when you leave the dining hall, follow the vestibule until you reach the end. The rooms at the end, on the right are for the Nursia, and have been in my family for generations. He is within; his chamber is to the right when you enter. The doors are unlocked as are all the doors within the complex." He smiled sadly at me. "He may not want to see you; it is only fair I warn you."

"So long as I can see him, I am content," I said by way of thanks and followed his directions until I came to the chamber Brother Benedict had indicated. I did not know what to expect, or whether I would still recognise him. Fate however, decreed that I was worrying over nothing. As soon as I came upon the disciple's research cell within Brother Benedict's apartment, I saw a pallid, thin wizard in black robes hunched over a desk poring some papers. His shoulder length hair fell forward, nearly touching the papers, and his hooked nose was playing host to a pair of prince-nez. He was thinner than I remembered, and I noted with a pang of emotion I could not place that he looked older and more worn.

"Brother Macarius Stylites?" I ventured uncertainly as I stepped into his cell.

His head snapped up from the desk in annoyance as I entered. For a brief moment, I thought he paled at seeing me, but I could not be sure. He only stared coldly at me as he removed the prince-nez from his face. "You!" he managed to throw out as a strangled greeting.

"Yes, me. Hermione insufferable know-it-all Granger, surely you remember, Professor Snape," I replied, and without waiting to be asked, sat down. A frown crossed his brow. But before he could admonish me for intruding into his peace, I cut in with a bored voice, "I would remind you that I am here because of the papers you left in the caskets of Welsh lead, and because, your elder, Brother Benedict, and the Abbot, the former Brother Cosmas granted me leave to be here. I have the privilege to be engaged by Mr Malfoy to look into the matter of your disappearance from the Shrieking Shack on his discharge from the rehabilitation wing at St Mungo's last week. Do not, therefore, lecture me on the lack of protocol for barging into your refuge, sanctuary, call it what you will."

Instead of looking abashed at the harsh tone I adopted, he had the audacity to curl his lips in faint amusement. "What could possibly warrant Lucius opening the caskets?"

"There was talk that he had done away with your body. Mrs Malfoy was beside herself with anguish at her husband's betrayal of a friend, and this strained their marital relations," I explained.

"Lucius always had an uxorious streak in him," he sneered in a patronising purr he reserved only for dunderheads whose cauldrons invariably exploded in class. "He roped you in to investigate matters. What happened next? Is he going to come through those doors next?"

I met his unflinching gaze levelly with a severe flash of my own as I mentally deliberated whether I should tell him of Ivan Shuvalov and the latter's silence on his survival in the order. "Mr Malfoy could not open the first casket, I managed to undo it and find the enclosed smaller container and the papers therein. I traced Tacitus to the wizarding monastery at Nitria, and arranged a meeting with Father Damian and Brother Benedict."

He stared at me for some moments, his eyes boring into mine, marking my second encounter with legilimency in the day. "That is all very well and good, but Lucius and Narcissa will not be so easily satisfied. They will demand to see me," he said quietly in a warning tone. "You will be my undoing, Miss Granger... or is it Mrs Weasley now?"

I shifted my weight slightly in my chair. "I am unmarried, sir. And I will have you know I do not have the habit of carrying out tasks half-arsedly! I have thought long and hard about preserving your anonymity, your privacy and whatnot. No one else from Britain or the European continent is going to descend on you here in Egypt."

"Is that bravado, I wonder, or is that foolish over-confidence?" he went on in the same quietly dangerous tone. "What makes you think, Miss Granger, that you can protect me when Albus Dumbledore could not?"

So, he harboured a little bitterness towards Dumbledore and sought to lash out at me. Very well, I could meet his mordancy with barbed wit. "I was under the impression that Professor Dumbledore, chief meddler that he was, farmed out the duty of protecting you to Brother Benedict, who is an expert on antidotes against poisons, and the former Brother Cosmas, now Father Superior Damian, to protect you. I also seem to recall them arranging for Tacitus to bail you out if you were beyond your depth. That constitutes as some form of protection as well, wouldn't you say? You should have more faith in them, even if you distrust me."

"What are you trying to say?" He sprang to his feet, his face white, and an edge of testiness creeping into his voice.

"Tacitus lied for you to the Malfoys." I smiled sharply, now resolved to say nothing of Ivan Shuvalov and his links to the order. "He made no mention of the Coptic wizarding order; he made no mention of Nitria; he made no mention of any of the inhabitants in the monastery. He told the Malfoys you expired not long after he found you and brought you to safety. He told them you were buried in his master's family plot. He told them his master and you met when you were gathering rare plant specimens in Addis Abba for potions for Voldemort." He flinched when I used the name, but I ignored the brief scowl that lighted on his face and went on. "He lied that his master was an apothecary whom you befriended, and who saved you, ordered him to look out for you. The story of calling for Tacitus via the button on your robes was related, and that was that. Mrs Malfoy now believes her husband did not destroy your body; Mr Malfoy now thinks he did his part in trying to save you by administering the counter-serum; even their manservant said nothing, and you and I know he knows more than he lets on." Professor Snape's eyes flickered up at me when he realised that I had slipped in a mention of Shuvalov. "To all intents and purposes, the Malfoys now believe Severus Snape to be dead and buried."

"Severus Snape is dead and buried," he reminded me softly, slumping back into his seat with hunched shoulders. There was relief written on his features. "You see before you Brother Macarius Benedicte Stylites."

"I concede to that," I said firmly. "Will you tell me how you like it here? How did you survive when you first arrived?"

"How did I survive? By feeding off the chameleon's dish and drinking water." He looked at me curiously, as though wondering whether it was worth his while to tell me his story.

"You were almost mortally wounded I recall," I sighed, hoping that this was not going to be a circuitous conversation.

"Lucius had administered the counter-serum," he began calmly, still watching me intently. "However I was still too weak to Apparate. I called for Tacitus by the means you mentioned and I was brought here. Brother Benedict has already prepared some blood-replenishing potion for such an event, and I had sent ahead additional counter-serum should I require it. Slowly, through a combination of skilled healing from Father Damian, blood replenishing potion, and small doses of the antidote, the poison was purged from my body, and I recovered. I stayed here ever since. Were you expecting a more exciting story? Do I disappoint you by still being alive?"

I chose not to answer him. "Do you like it here?"

"No sacrilegious act occurs here. Learning of all arts – wizarding and Muggle are encouraged. Learning is valued here, scholarship is strongly encouraged. It is quiet, and we are often left to our own devices. The world should take a leaf from the retired lifestyle prescribed here. There is always time ample enough to reflect, to learn, to breathe, away from the material acquisition of the world, away from the politics of human interaction in the marketplace as the world has become," he traced his lips in a contemplatively gesture.

I smiled knowingly. "You like it here then." I rose and allowed my voice to drop as if I was talking to myself. "I am so glad." I glanced out the window that overlooked the courtyard. "If you should ever decide to return to the world of the living, rest assured that I will maintain your secret to my grave. "Should you ever wish to contact me, these are the addresses and floo connections at which you may find me. I suggest you floo me at my residence rather than the Ministry." I pushed two name cards towards him on the desk.

"I appreciate the gesture," he said at last when I was at his doorway. "But I doubt I shall ever return to the world you inhabit. I have lived in darkness, and I have lived in the light. Now, I chose to remain where I am. Sic sic iuvat sub umbra."

"You do realise," I coughed in a stilted voice. "You are quoting from the Aeneid. Is this retreat to the shadows a curse on those who had forced you to become what you were as Severus Snape, or your resignation at what you are now?"

"You were my aptest pupil." He curled his lips and folded his arms defensively before. "I leave it to you to decide." Deeming the comment to be a rhetorical one, I did not deign to answer and would have stepped out of the chambers he shared with his elder, had he not detained me by calling out to me. "Miss Granger..." He paused. I halted my steps but did not give the satisfaction of seeing me turn around. "Thank you for coming all this way to see me."

His simple thanks drew a lump to my throat. I did not turn back to look at him lest he should see me tear. I merely pressed on ahead, repeatedly reminding myself that I had finally uncovered the truth as to what happened to Severus Snape.

So what became of me after this adventure? I went back to work as usual, dealing with subordinates and their harebrained proposals. Once a month, the tedium would be broken by an owled letter from Professor Snape. His letters always came when I found myself particularly frustrated with Ron's behaviour as a boyfriend. I told him all about Ron, of course, and Harry too. He replies as he always does, abusing them in scathing tones. He always makes me laugh with his sharp, incisive analysis of the boys' characters. His letters usually warm me and I would wonder what I was doing with Ronald Weasley. There are times when I compare Professor Snape to Ron, and I think I am almost tempted by my former potions' master good sense and character. Though Ron and I have parted company for this reason and though I am tempted to tell Professor Snape of my comparisons, I have never done so, nor do I ever intend to. Why, you ask? Because I know he will never leave the shadows of Nitria for the glaring darkness of modern acquisitive Wizarding and Muggle societies.

NOTES:

'Veritas vos liberabit' is Latin for 'the truth shall make you free'.

Tacitus's English is deliberately sub-par.

The sacred ibis was venerated and mummified by ancient Egyptians as a symbol of Thoth (an Egyptian deity said to be representative of Plato's logos or reason). According to Herodotus and Pliny the Elder, the sacred ibis killed the flies that brought pestilence to corpses. Hence, I had Brother Benedict heal the bird when Hermione walks in.

'Feeding off the chameleon's dish' line is adapted from Shakespeare's Hamlet. In Shakespeare's time, it was believed that chameleons feed on air – hence the line.

'Sic sic iuvat ire sub umbra' is Latin for 'thus, thus I chose to go into the shadows'. It comes from Virgil's Aeneid at the climax of the Dido and Aeneas story. Dido begs Aeneas to stay and share her throne but he secretly makes plans to sail way. She discovers his perfidy, and unable to dissuade him, she stabs herself and has her body placed on a funeral pyre. Her final words express her own resignation but also her curse upon her inconstant lover. As she twice plunges the knife into her breast she exclaims, "Thus, thus I choose to go into the shadows [of death]. Let the cruel Trojan's eyes drink in these flames from over the ocean and let him take with him the ill omen of my death." This explains why HG says the things she says immediately after SS throws the quote at her.

By now, readers should have realised that the 'Unforgiven' in the title refers to several characters. The most obvious ones are Severus and Lucius. As for the rest, I leave it to you to devise.

~ Finis ~

My thanks are extended to my beta for her sharp proof-reading and suggestions. I am also indebted to the powers that be on the Petulant Poetess for kindly uploading the instalments of this story as and when the need arose. And to my readers – a hearty thanks for reading this very short, hastily dashed off fic written in between bus rides to and from work. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I did in writing it.

Points of Information:

Readers who objected to the Father Superior (formerly Brother Cosmas) revealing all about Severus/Brother Macarius in Ch 4, should note that careful reading of Ch 3 will reveal this:

The structure within the Coptic wizarding order depicted herein is a hierarchical one because it is mentioned explicitly that disciples work and live with their Elder. In Ch 4, the hierarchy of the order is further expounded where the Father Superior explicitly states that he meets the Elders once a week where he gives them their instructions for the week. So you see a top-down approach in this order. Therefore, any decision regarding disciples (of which Severus/Macarius is one) lies not with the disciple himself but with his Elder. His Elder in turn has to bow to the decision of the head of the order, in this case the Father Superior. The only decision that lies with the disciple is whether he wants to leave the order. That too is stated in Ch 4. The Chekov's guns are already provided throughout the plot, it is a matter of whether they are noticed.

It should also be noted that SS's renaming is not the same as 'reinventing' himself. His renaming came with entering/joining the Coptic wizarding order. One had to give up all one's former worldly ties including one's own name when joining the order; and a new one chosen for one by the order. The same goes for those entering the Buddhist monkhood/nunnery, and the Catholic priesthood &ca. Because the new disciple of the order has cut off his worldly ties, and because the order is the one to make all decisions pertaining to the disciple, everything to do with the disciple falls within the jurisdiction of the order. I based this latter fact on my research on Buddhism and Socio-political movements.