Chapter Forty-Two

A/N: Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. I make no money. Thanks to Shellsnapeluver, RedOrchid, and OpalJade, my lovely betas.

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The first thing that Snape was aware of was sunlight, streaming through the opened drapes and seeming to pierce right through his eyelids to the center of his throbbing skull. Next was the fact that his mouth tasted like the inside of toilet, and third was that he had absolutely no feeling at all in his left arm. He shifted slightly and opened his eyes.

Hermione.

Hermione lay heavily atop his arm, pinning it to the couch, and her left leg was trapped between his. Her face was obscured by his own chin and her hair, but it was clear from what he could see that she was dirty, that she was injured, and that she was, against all odds, safe. He closed his eyes again.

As for what she was doing here, it was painfully obvious. She was here for the same reason he was: because there was no where else to go. Her family home had been destroyed; as yet, her parents, if they lived, were still in Australia with no memory of her whatsoever; Hogwarts was ravaged, and he doubted very much that the wife of Severus Snape had been welcomed at the Burrow with open arms. His monstrosity of a childhood home had become a safe house for the displaced. What had he told her? If all is lost... He fought down the strange emotion that surged through him. For Hermione, all was certainly fucking lost.

He felt her stir, felt her humid breath against his skin.

"Severus," she said.

Suddenly, his mind burned with a thousand questions--Who knows? What have you told them? Do they know where you are? Are they coming?--and he wished he could step back to the moment just before she had woken, when he might have got the chance to sort out what he wanted to say.

"What is your plan?" he asked.

"My plan?"

"Your plan," he said with exaggerated crispness. "You certainly seemed to have a plan for the end of the war. Now that things have sorted themselves out to your satisfaction, I assume there is some next step? Some further hoop the rest of us will be made to jump through?"

She rose, peeling herself from his embrace and freeing his arm, which began to protest loudly. She turned and looked at him steadily. It seemed he could see her face closing up.

"Are you drunk?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's a fair question, Severus. I arrived to find you bleeding and unconscious, the house in shambles, and whisky all over the floor. Now you are speaking to me as if I had somehow arranged the entire war to suit some peculiar whim of mine. Are you drunk?"

"I am not."

"I see."

"You do realize--"

"What a mess I've made of things? Yes, that much is perfectly clear, thank you."

She turned away from him, smoothed her hands over her tattered robes and picked up her ratty looking bag from the floor beside the couch.

"Where are you going?" he asked sharply.

"Arthur Weasley suggested that I meet with Kingsley Shacklebolt first thing this morning."

"Arthur Weasley? You're now taking orders from--"

"Arthur Weasley retrieved your will from the Headmaster's office, which is the reason we're both sitting here and not in Azkaban," she replied. "Why you would write your address on a piece of parchment and leave it lying around for Merlin alone knows whom to find is beyond--"

"Because I was supposed to be dead. And you could not very well have inherited a house that the Aurors were not able to comb top to bottom first."

"You were supposed to be dead," she repeated, almost conversationally, though there was something icy in her tone. "And the house was meant to be my compensation?"

"Hermione," he began, but she shook her head, forbidding him to finish.

"What do you expect from Shacklebolt?" He was disgusted by the tinge of fear in his voice.

"Amnesty, if I can get it."

He snorted. "Unlikely."

"Then what would you suggest? That we run? That we spend the rest of our lives in hiding?"

"I will not run."

"I didn't think so," she said, turning toward the door.

"I take it Shacklebolt is heading up the new Ministry?"

"That was the Order's plan... in the event that we won."

"I see." It was a meaningless detail--what did he care who took over the Ministry?--and yet it was strange not to know it, not to be intimately familiar with their plans. He reached out and took hold of the sleeve of her robe, turning her back toward him.

"Please do not think that I underestimate your role in the war," he said formally. "But I think that even for you, the Ministry will be unwilling to--"

"I'm taking Harry," she said.

He withdrew his hand. Something cold and tingling seemed to wash down his back. She was right, of course. If anything were to come of her plan, it would happen because of Potter, but still, he shuddered in nearly abject horror. The idea of Potter pleading his case to the Ministry... None of this was supposed to be happening.

"Have you spoken to Albus?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said, and he saw the old echo of her rage at Dumbledore in her eyes. "He did not make himself available last night."

"That might be a prudent next step."

She nodded and took two steps toward the door, but turned back toward him before her hand reached the knob.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Can I come back?"

How could she stand there and look at him that way, her posture so rigid, but her eyes so large and imploring? Would she make him spell it out?

"I will set up a room for you."

The set of her shoulders eased very slightly. "I'm coming back," she said then, firmly, like a promise, and opened the door. He watched as she Apparated away and then stared into the empty street for some time before he shut the door again.

****

When she arrived outside the Burrow, Harry was sitting beneath a wide and crooked tree, his head leaning against the trunk, eyes closed. Ginny sat beside him with her head on his shoulder, staring into the field beyond the house. There didn't seem to be anyone else around. The Burrow looked stooped and shuttered, as if it bore the weight of the grief of its inhabitants, and there seemed something barren about the yard, even with Harry and Ginny in it. They looked like the sole survivors of a plague that had taken everything from the sky to the grass.

As she approached, Ginny nudged Harry and got to her feet, swiping the dirt from her denims and then reaching her hands out for Hermione to take.

"Dad told us you'd come. We've been waiting out here since this morning. I was getting worried."

"Why did you wait out here?"

Ginny looked shiftily at Harry. "I... well. Because Mum needs quiet."

Harry rose and joined them, shrugging uncomfortably as he approached. "Not everyone is going to understand, Hermione. Not right away."

"But you do?" she said, searching Ginny's eyes.

"This is what I know," Ginny said, and suddenly there was the fierceness of battle in her face. "Snape worked for Harry. You worked for Harry. Harry says you love each other. That's enough for me."

Hermione looked away. If she continued to look at Ginny, she might cry again, and she was mightily tired of crying.

"I have to see Kingsley," she said.

"I know," Harry said. "I'm ready."

"I should pick up the will first," Hermione said. "I left it last night."

"Dad Vanished it," Ginny said. "He said it was much too dangerous to keep. He said to tell Kingsley he'll explain later."

"All right," Hermione said, but a distant alarm sounded in the back of her mind.

Harry kissed Ginny swiftly behind her ear and took Hermione's hand. It felt... it felt like every time they'd Apparated together for the last year.

"The phone booth?" he said.

"Yes."

She led, as she always had. And they were gone.

***

Hermione was unreasonably frightened as the phone booth descended into the Ministry. The last time they had entered this building, they had very nearly been unable to escape. And even though she knew that rogue Death Eaters would not likely be congregating at the Ministry of Magic, she couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding, that they were embarking on something very, very foolish.

When the phone booth ground to a halt, Hermione stepped out first. She intended to register at Security and proceed to Level One, but before she had taken more than a few steps through the Atrium, a voice called, "Harry! Hermione!" and she turned on her heel. Magical flashbulbs exploded into her face.

"Is it true that you spent last year destroying Horcruxes?"

"What was it like being on the run?"

"Were you afraid to face Voldemort?"

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and started to run for the lift, but Kingsley was already stepping out of it. Hermione wondered fleetingly if he had slept at all since the final battle. His face looked pouchy and gray with fatigue, and his smile, though it gave the semblance of warmth, was oddly flat and emotionless. He raised both arms as if he intended to embrace them.

"I received word that you were on the way in," he said. "so I came down to meet you. Our heroes! Where's Ronald? At home getting some much needed rest, yes? Shall we do a round for the press, then?"

Harry looked extremely uneasy, and Hermione felt sure that the look was mirrored in her face as Kingsley slung an arm over each of their shoulders.

"Smile, now. Say, 'We won'!"

Harry's face remained impassive. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Kingsley said under his breath, squeezing their shoulders. "People need hope. Smile."

Hermione smiled tightly, and the flashbulbs began once more.

"Kingsley, we wondered if we could have a word," she said after the third round of photos had been taken.

"Yes!" he said loudly. "Yes, of course. Anything for you two. Come along and see my new office. I'll tell you all about the changes we're making."

He led them forcefully into the lift. When the doors closed, he sighed. "Sorry about all that," he said wearily. "We're trying to inspire good faith in the populace by making the changes at the Ministry very transparent. Basically, it boils down to being surrounded by press night and day."

"But it's barely been twenty four hours," Hermione said.

Kingsley looked at her with drowsy, hooded eyes. "In twenty four hours, I have been named Minister of Magic, replaced most of my department heads, authorized the Aurors to begin the capture and containment of the remaining Death Eaters, scheduled six Wizengamot trials, posthumously deposed Severus Snape of his position at Hogwarts, given ten interviews, and disposed of the body of the erstwhile Lord Voldemort."

"The body of Lord Voldemort?" Harry said faintly.

"Well, we couldn't very well leave it there in the woods. Merlin knows what those Death Eaters might try. I've been trying to locate Snape's body as well. Actually, I thought you two might have seen something that would help."

"Yes, well, it's Snape we're here about," Hermione said.

"Level One. Office of the Minister," a pleasant woman's voice said as the lift stopped.

"Excellent," Kingsley replied, steering them down the hallway and into a large room decorated heavily in lush purples and yellows. Kingsley, it seemed, had also had time to do a bit of redecoration. He seemed to notice her looking.

"People will notice a change in the way things look more quickly then they will notice my policy changes," he said quietly. "Sad, but true. So we give them changes, give them pictures of changes. If it brings people hope, then it's worth it. Besides, it's just a bit of charm work."

She nodded, but said nothing.

"Have a seat."

Hermione sat in a velvet overstuffed chair in an alarming shade of chartreuse. "You said you deposed Snape. When?"

"Early this morning. Just a few hours after the... final battle."

"May I ask why?"

"I assume you are referring to the contents of Harry's speech? I admit, I am intrigued. It was true, then? I wondered if you were simply trying to discomfit Lord Voldemort."

"It was true," Harry said.

"I see. Well, I would have had to depose him anyway, I'm sorry to say, simply because of the bureaucracy of naming a new Headmaster. The Board of Directors needs access to Headmaster's office so that they can begin rebuilding the school. And Snape's death just would have added a whole new layer of red tape. This way, I hope to be able to reopen Hogwarts for the new school year."

"Leaving alone the fact that you should not be reopening Hogwarts, that the Ministry should be leaving Hogwarts well alone--" Hermione began hotly.

"Hermione," Harry said in a faintly warning tone.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kingsley," she said, not feeling remotely sorry. She felt like a wound spring, like a drawn bow. "There's a great deal you don't know about Snape, and I shouldn't be acting as if you should know it. He did his job remarkably well."

"Would you care to begin at the beginning?" Kingsley said, dreadfully calmly, levitating several cups and a brown betty across the room to his desk.

"I will answer your questions," Hermione said. "But I have several of my own. Would you mind terribly if I went first?"

"By all means," Kingsley easily, pouring tea. Hermione took hers, but found herself unable, or unwilling, to drink it.

"So Hogwarts currently has no Headmaster?" she said.

"Not at present, no. Minerva is, of course, serving as Deputy Headmistress until a Headmaster can be appointed."

"And the office?"

"Yes, well, as I said, we had to render the office accessible. It would have taken several months to go through the paperwork without removing Snape. But much of the magic of Hogwarts is centered in that office. And... to be honest, we were anxious to speak with Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore has a portrait right here in the Ministry, does he not?"

Kingsley colored slightly. "He has not visited it recently."

"I see. But anyone can enter the office?"

"Is there something you require from the Headmaster's office?"

"No. I'm just curious to know who has been able to access it, and what might have been removed."

"I have no record of who has been in the office since it was opened. But I will tell you that we removed some personal items of Snape's. They're being held on Level Two for examination."

Level Two. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Such as?" Hermione held her breath.

"There was a Pensieve full of silver on the desk. Beyond that, I'm not certain."

For a moment, everything in the room seemed to glow with a white hot corona, and she struggled to breathe.

"Have you looked in the Pensieve?" Harry asked.

"Not personally," Kingsley said. "Probably some of the Aurors--"

Hermione looked frantically at Harry, who was gazing back at her steadily, as if telling her to bide her time. Her pulse beat so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear Harry as he spoke. How was it possible that she'd left the Pensieve memories behind?

"The Pensieve contains the proof that Professor Snape worked for our side," Harry said. "We're here to make sure that his contribution to the war effort is recognized."

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well. Yes, of course. I--"

"Dumbledore ordered Professor Snape to kill him," Hermione said. "It preserved Professor Snape's role as a spy and kept him in position to take over Hogwarts. To protect the students."

"As I said, we've been very anxious to speak to Albus--"

"Professor Dumbledore was able to use his portrait to continue to advise Snape how to help us," Harry said. "He brought us the sword of Gryffindor; he followed us to Malfoy Manor; he--"

"Harry, what is it that you want me to do? So Snape was on our side. All right. I'll give him a posthumous Order of Merlin. Is that what you are--"

"I want guaranteed full amnesty from prosecution for him," Hermione said.

"Hermione, forgive me if I don't follow your train of thought. How would we prosecute a dead man?"

Hermione's chin rose, and her shoulders squared slightly. "Professor Snape is alive," she said.

Kingsley's hand twitched on the desk, but he remained otherwise impassive. "Well, that would explain why we could not locate a body. Would you care to tell me how that came about?"

"I saved his life."

"I see." Kingsley leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on his desk. The fatigue was still present in his face, but his eyes had regained some of their dark sparkle. "Where is he?" he asked casually.

"I'm not prepared to reveal that at this time," Hermione said. "Not before you guarantee me--"

"Hermione, this place is crawling with press. You know that. You want me to guarantee Snape full amnesty--based on what? Your word alone? The moment I walk out of this door, I will have to justify my actions to a public I am trying to convince to trust me."

"Doing the right thing seems to me to be a good way to get them to trust you. You weren't so reluctant to act when you thought Snape was dead."

"Don't be patronizing. You know as well as I do that the public will forgive a dead man much more quickly than they will a live one."

"Why are you suddenly so concerned with 'the public'? This is not about the public, Kingsley. This is about a man who was willing to give his life for this cause, who risked himself daily, a man who does not deserve to be paraded through a courtroom to justify--"

"If Snape is innocent, then a day in court is the best thing for him," Kingsley snapped. "Let the evidence speak for him, let him be cleared out in the open where people can see and believe for themselves. In the long run he'd be much safer, much better off that way."

Hermione started to rise from her chair, but Harry held up his hand. "And before then? How would you guarantee his safety until a trial could be arranged?" he asked.

Kingsley shifted uncomfortably. "I know that you don't want to hear this, but we've made a great number of changes to Azkaban. We've dispatched with the Dementors, of course; The Department of Mysteries has provided--"

"Under no circumstances will I allow Professor Snape to be sent to Azkaban like a common criminal," Hermione hissed.

"Azkaban is not an option," Harry said firmly. "I jeopardized his safety when I revealed him as a spy. Regardless of what changes you have made in Azkaban, I cannot be convinced that he would be safe there among the other Death Eaters."

Kingsley looked at Harry consideringly. Hermione knew that he was weighing Harry's power against his own, deciding how much the support of The Boy Who Lived would mean to his administration. Hermione was consumed by a fury so all encompassing that she could hardly see. Harry sat easily in his chair, but his face was intractable. She was certain that he knew exactly what he was doing, and it infuriated her that he hadn't told her. She wanted to yell; she wanted to throw things and make demands, and yet Harry sat there, calm and sure of himself. This was her battle, she thought unreasonably. Harry had won his war. Now it was time for her to do her job.

"As I was saying, the Department of Mysteries has provided us with the means to curtail magic. Far more effective than simply taking a wand--as, of course, a wand can always be stolen or otherwise acquired--the bracelet that they have developed renders the wearer essentially a Squib until it is removed. Now, if he were to agree, and the Ministry informed of his whereabouts, I might be willing to agree to simple confinement until such time as-- "

"You can't possibly be suggesting robbing Professor Snape of his magic."

"The bracelet is not permanent, Hermione. It simply provides assurance to the Ministry that the wearer will not commit further magical offenses nor try to escape punishment."

"He'd be a sitting duck, Kingsley! You'd leave him utterly defenseless during a time when people are in great pain, when people will be looking for a scapegoat--before he's had a chance to defend himself."

"Be reasonable!" Kingsley said, slapping his hand against his desk with obvious frustration. "You refuse Azkaban as an option--where, I might point out, there are guards--but you find house arrest just as objectionable? What could I possibly offer that would satisfy you?"

"Could he be under the Fidelius Charm?" Harry interjected.

"Pardon?"

"Snape's location. Could he be under the Fidelius Charm? Provided you knew the secret, of course?"

"Harry!"

Harry did not respond to her protest. Her fingers dug into the plush of the chair in which she sat.

Kingsley spoke slowly. "If he agreed to wear the bracelet, and the Ministry knew--"

"Not the Ministry. If you knew the secret."

He pursed his lips. "If he agreed to wear the bracelet, and I knew the secret... then yes. I would consent to his dwelling under the Fidelius Charm. For his safety."

"How soon could you schedule a trial?"

"There are a great number of Death Eaters to be tried, as I'm sure you realize. We have several families in custody, several high profile families. I think--"

"And if he agreed to testify against those families? Would he receive priority?"

"Harry!" Hermione said again. "You cannot speak for Snape. You cannot make promises for him."

"Are you in contact with Snape, Hermione?" Kingsley asked.

"I--I may have access to him."

"Then I suggest you consult with him about his options. The terms of my offer are these: if Snape would be willing to testify against the other Death Eaters, then in exchange, I will offer him the privilege of remaining in a Fideliused location, under the nullifying bracelet and proper monitoring charms, with priority given to his trial date. The terms of this contract will expire in two hours. And Hermione, I want it noted before we make this official that if Snape were to run in that time period, I would hold you accountable. I am taking an enormous risk here. It should go without saying that I would not do it for anyone else."

They had her boxed. Harry and Kingsley had danced around her until she could not longer feel the ties that bound her, could not see from whose lips they had come. She had charged in here with no real plan except to make them see his rightness, and now she would be unable to leave without being followed unless she accepted this travesty of a deal. She remembered Snape's face in the morning light of Spinner's End, so set, so resigned. And she would have to return to tell him that she was failing, that she had already failed to protect him.

Kingsley held out his hand.

"Will you, Hermione Granger, present the details of my offer to Severus Snape and return here within two hour's time to deliver his answer?"

She hesitated. She would not have their home invaded; she would not allow them to take him to Azkaban. That much would be preserved. She took his hand. Magic surged from his fingertips to hers. He released her hand and pressed his palm to a piece of parchment. When he lifted it, she could see the words of their agreement glowing for a moment before they settled into ordinary black.

"Very well," he said, handing her the parchment.

"Thank you, Minister," she said dully.

Two hours.

***

Snape was sitting on the sofa when she arrived. He did not turn to look at her as she opened the door, and all she was able to see of him was the curtain of his hair where it fell over his face. Whether he was awake or sleeping, calm or furious, she did not know.

"Well?" he said.

Hermione felt light-headed. She walked toward the couch on legs that had no feeling. She had no plans for how to tell him what had happened, no more than she had had plans to convince Kingsley to do her bidding. It seemed that every step she'd taken since she left the Ministry served to remind her of how deeply unprepared she was for this. Always, there had been guidance. Always, instruction. Snape himself had taught her to survive the year with his plans and his lessons, and Dumbledore had overseen it from his office, leading them down the path he thought best, and though she thought upon him with disgust, she was starkly terrified of this world in which no adult stepped in to see that things came out properly, that justice was done.

The man sitting before her on the couch could be imprisoned, could--God forbid--be killed, because she had no idea what she was doing, because at long last, Hermione Granger was in over her head, and no one was pulling the strings.

"I take it things did not go as you had hoped," Snape said. His tone was neither smug nor defeated, but matter of fact.

"Severus--"

He still faced resolutely away from her.

"Are there Aurors outside, Hermione?"

"Severus, please."

"Or do they expect me to turn myself in?"

She thrust the parchment at him. He read it silently, his hair still shielding his expression from her eyes.

"They want my magic."

Her face began to crumple. "I swear to you, I did the best I could. I--"

"You believe the best of people. It has always been your weakness," he said, and his voice never rose nor changed in pitch. "Still, I don't know how you could have done any better. For my help, they will swallow the bitterness of being unable to throw me in Azkaban immediately. Though they will console themselves with the knowledge that only a simple trial stands between me and my inevitable fate. And they will find their pleasure when I am on the stand and at their mercy."

"No."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Which part of my logic do you find erroneous?"

"I will not allow that to happen."

"No? Well, I hardly see what you will do to stop it. Do you have a quill?"

For a moment, she wanted to beg him not to sign it, to tell him that they could just leave; they could run. It wouldn't be so bad. They could travel--they'd both known life as Muggles; it wasn't impossible. But when he glanced up at her, his face perfectly impassive, his black eyes seeming only to question why she had not produced the quill, she felt determination of a very different kind. This face, the one that looked at her now--if they ran, that would be all she would ever see. Just the blankness that hid all hope and shame beneath the surface. They could go to Antarctica, and still, it would never be far enough. He would still look at her with endurance, and that she could not bear.

She pulled a battered quill from her bag and handed it to him. He would sign, and she would learn to fight for him. She would fight, and she would keep fighting until she saw his face, his real face, again.

***

When she returned to the Ministry, she found herself in the center of what seemed a sea of exploding lights. Voices screamed her name, and Kingsley did not appear from the lift to help her through them. Covering her head with her hands, she fought her way through the photographers and journalists. When the doors of the lift shut behind her, she collapsed against the mirrored back wall and looked into her own face, the face that would now, no doubt, be plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet.

To her own eyes, she was barely recognizable. Dark circles like bruised thumbprints sat beneath her eyes, and her cheeks were hollow and sharp looking. She was smeared, still, with dirt and blood, and her hair was matted and tangled. Wouldn't Mum be proud, she thought bitterly, as she stepped into the hallway of Level One.

Kingsley stood outside his office, his arms folded over his chest. She tried to smile as she approached him. Harry had been right to temper her this afternoon. Making an enemy of Kingsley Shacklebolt was not going to do her any favors. She held the parchment out to him.

"He agreed," she said simply. "And he's written his address on the parchment. Would you like to come and put the bracelet on yourself?"

Kingsley took the parchment and tucked it into the inner pocket of his robes without looking at it. His face was unreadable, and she began to feel a twinge of deep unease.

"I would," he said. "But first I would like you to step into my office."

He gestured for her to have a seat in the chair that she had sat in earlier, but this time he sat in the chair opposite it, crossing his legs and tenting his hands in what was a probably accidental but extremely accurate imitation of Dumbledore. He looked at her steadily for a moment.

"Kingsley? Is something wrong?"

He pulled his wand from his pocket, and just as she registered alarm, he Accio'd a newspaper from his desk.

"Perhaps you could take a look at this and explain to me what it means," he said.

Folding back the parchment with trembling hands, she began to read.

Severus Snape: More than Just Murder Going on at Hogwarts

By Rita Skeeter

The wizarding world is still reeling from the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, but at the Ministry of Magic, it's business as usual. Or, perhaps I should say, business as unusual. The newly appointed Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, hasn't had a chance to sleep yet--there have been too many matters requiring his urgent attention.

"First, of course, we need to rid the Ministry of those who were working for Voldemort. Equally high on the list of priorities is to capture the Death Eaters that are still at large."

These may seem like obvious first steps, but Minister Shacklebolt has other pressing issues on his mind.

"Hogwarts suffered terrible destruction during the battle. Magical education--with a strong Muggle Studies and Tolerance Awareness curriculum--is of the utmost importance to this administration, and we are hard at work to ensure that Hogwarts will be ready to open on time for the new school year. The education of young, impressionable minds is paramount to preventing a recurrence of this kind of struggle."

According to Minister Shacklebolt, removing Severus Snape from the office of Headmaster was the key to beginning the kinds of reforms he wants to see at Hogwarts.

Much of wizarding society was shocked, last August, by the news that Severus Snape had been appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mere months after Snape murdered the previous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, he was installed by the Board of Directors--now believed to have been under the control of the Death Eaters--as Headmaster of the esteemed school.

Several students have already stepped forward to give us a glimpse of what life was like at Hogwarts under Snape's regime.

"I've got loads of scars," says seventh-year Hufflepuff, Ernie McMillan. "Snape was in charge of all the punishments. Professors whipped us, or used the Cruciatus Curse on us when we 'misbehaved.' Really, we were just speaking out against the restrictions. Snape ran things with an iron fist--there were no extracurricular activities, no Hogsmeade weekends, and curfews every night. All the owl post coming into the school was inspected. I couldn't even get a birthday present from my mum without having the box torn apart. But we never stopped fighting back."

Ernie, like many brave Hogwarts students, stayed to fight in the final battle.

"I'd like to have taken a shot at Snape myself," he says. "Give him a taste of his own magic."

But Snape's medieval disciplinary tactics might be the least of Hogwarts parents' worries. When I visited Hogwarts during the hours following the final battle, I wanted to see for myself the lair of the most dangerous Headmaster in the school's history.

Though the office had been thoroughly cleaned of Dark artifacts by the Aurors before my arrival, I was able to speak to former Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black about the Death Eater who ruled Hogwarts for a year.

"I've just been released from the Headmaster's Oath," Black was quick to tell me. "Until now, I have been magically bound not to report anything concerning the Severus Snape's time as Headmaster."

But now that Minister Shacklebolt has deposed the former Headmaster, Black is free to speak about the things he witnessed in the Headmaster's office.

Among his chilling revelations was the fact that Severus Snape may have used his position to marry Hermione Granger, former Gryffindor prefect and best friend of Harry Potter.

"They were married right here in the office," Black told me. "No further than you are from me now. Back while she was still a student. But after she left, they remained in touch. They were in close contact throughout the year."

While shocking that Snape would dare take such liberties with a student under his care, this startling new information raises questions of the former Miss Granger's loyalties. Long vaunted as the brains behind Harry Potter, one is now left to wonder whose side this witch was really on.

No doubt, more information on this inappropriate alliance will be revealed in the days to come. Daily Prophet readers may be assured that I will leave no stone unturned in my pursuit of the truth about the enigmatic murderer of Hogwarts.

Slowly she raised her eyes to Kingsley's. The look he was giving her was nearly predatory.

"Sir," she said. "Can we begin at the beginning?"