Chapter Ten: Dead men naked they shall be one

Note: AU. Not DH-compliant.

Chapter Ten: Dead men naked they shall be one

21 March 1997

Severus sat in the sitting room of the Headmaster's suite. The first day of spring, but he felt as though it was anything but a new beginning. It felt like the end. He glanced over at the matron.

"Stop pacing, Poppy," he said irritably. "They will call for you if they need you."

Poppy sat, an anguished expression on her face. "He's worse, Severus. And I think his pain is increasing. He looks very bad this morning."

"O'Donald is a Healer. I am sure she is doing all she can for him," Severus replied, trying to rein in his own impatience. Robert...who had arrived at the castle in January, and whom Minerva had described to him as being the closest thing to a son that Albus had, causing a stab of jealousy in him...had come to get him at four o'clock in the morning, saying that Albus was asking for him.

Albus had reminded him of their plans for Harry and for the Dark Lord, and Severus had asked him to rest, not to talk, saying that he remembered all their plans, but Albus had reached out with a feeble hand. With a hard swallow, Severus had taken the old wizard's left hand in his right.

"Stay on, Severus. Stay on at Hogwarts. Take care of Minerva for me, take care of the school. I believe..." Dumbledore took a shallow, gasping breath. "...I believe she will be named Headmistress. I have worked to ensure that. But if she is not . . . perhaps it will be you. If Tom somehow gets his way in it, it may be you, I think. But . . . but you must help her . . . help her, Severus, after. Whatever happens."

"You will be better. Take your potions. You will be better. Please, Albus," Severus said in a low, urgent voice.

When the Headmaster had come to him in December and told him tearfully that he would seek a different solution to their mutual problem, Severus had no notion that Albus could still be planning his own death, but in a way that would not involve him. Until early February, he had been entirely unaware that Dumbledore had decided to allow the curse to take his life, and it was only after the old wizard had passed out during dinner in the Great Hall that Severus understood that the Headmaster thought to avert the effect of the Vow by dying early, before Draco could be presented with his task. And now, it appeared he was carrying out this new, mad plan.

"Please, Albus, take the potions...any of them," Severus begged.

Albus shook his head slightly. "I am dying, Severus. I will be dead within the next three or four days." He tried to chuckle. "Melina tells me I am too robust. I should be dead already."

Severus looked at the Headmaster and saw his sunken cheeks, translucent, greyish skin, blue lips, and jaundiced eyes shadowed by dark purple-black circles. A lesser wizard would have succumbed where Albus lingered.

"Take your potions," Severus whispered once more. "Take them, please." He had begged him before, to no avail, and when Dumbledore's health was better.

"No, Severus. It would merely prolong the end now." He looked into Severus's eyes. "Is that what you really want for me, Severus?"

Severus shook his head, unable to speak.

"I may not . . . I may not be coherent much longer, my dear boy. So I wanted to see you, say good-bye, and tell you that you will find your salvation. You will. You are doing very well, and I know that it is hard for you. I am very proud of you. Thank you, Severus, for all you have done for me over the years."

Tears rose in Severus's eyes, but he did not fight them. "Do not leave us, Albus."

"I won't really be gone, you know . . . And you will do just fine, I am sure. I have faith in you. Just . . . remember me, take care of Minerva, and look after Harry. You . . . you will be fine, my dear, dear boy."

Severus held Albus's hand to his face and let his tears wash over it.

Since that conversation, he had been sitting in the Headmaster's sitting room, joined by Poppy after she had been allowed to visit Albus for just a few minutes. Now, only Minerva, her niece, Healer Melina O'Donald, Murdoch, Minerva's Potions master brother, and Robert Crouch were in with the Headmaster. Both men looking grim, Robert and Murdoch had occasionally stepped out of the room to allow the witches and Albus some privacy as they cared for him, but they had little to say about the Headmaster's condition except that the pain potions seemed to have become ineffective.

"I don't think he has more than a few days," Poppy said, her voice cracking. "I wish they would let me help. I have taken care of him for more than forty years." Tears welled in her eyes. "I suppose there's not much to be done now, though."

Severus looked up at the school matron. Lost in his own bleak thoughts, he had forgotten for a moment that others were also suffering, that Poppy had known the Headmaster since she had been a student. Probably fifty years, at least.

"I am certain that Minerva and Melina are doing all they can for him, and doing their best to make him . . . comfortable," Severus said, attempting to offer comfort, but finding that in his voice, the words sounded almost like a reproach. "I mean to say, do not distress yourself." That sounded worse. Finally, he sighed. "I am sure that it must be difficult for you. I am sorry."

Poppy nodded. "You will miss him."

Severus averted his eyes. Afraid of the tears that might come if he said more, he simply replied, "Yes."

The bedroom door opened, and through it, Poppy and Severus could just see Albus propped up on pillows, his eyes closed, his mouth open, his breathing clearly laboured. Minerva was sitting at the left side of the bed, holding his hand, and Robert was just behind her. They heard Melina, unseen on the other side of the Headmaster, saying something about trying one more dose. Murdoch stepped through the door and closed it gently behind him.

"Poppy, Severus." Murdoch nodded to the two, then lowered himself wearily into a chair. "If this drags on, I think it will kill Minerva, too," he said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

"Isn't there anything I can do?" Poppy asked.

Murdoch shook his head. "I think it is hard enough on Albus to have Minerva there, seeing him as he is, and Robert, too, of course . . . Melina is doing all she can for him. If only he had consulted her sooner . . ."

Poppy's eyes welled with tears again. "I should have insisted. He wouldn't even allow me to examine him after about mid-August. I should have known, I should have known."

Murdoch came over and sat beside her on the couch, putting an arm around her and drawing her against him. "Shh, shh, you know how stubborn Albus is. Minerva wasn't even aware, and after she was, she did ask him to see Melina or some other Healer, but he wouldn't, not until it was too late. And he had become more stubborn in these last weeks. There is nothing you could have done, Poppy. You can help Minerva after. She will need her friends." Murdoch looked over at Severus and appeared about to say something, but he shook his head and embraced Poppy, rubbing her back.

After a while, Poppy sat back and wiped her face with her handkerchief, and Murdoch stood and stretched, saying, "I think we might need some breakfast soon. Perhaps we can convince Minerva to eat something."

At just that moment, though, the door opened, and Robert stepped out.

"He is gone. There is no Headmaster at Hogwarts," he said softly, but each word distinct.

Behind Robert, they could see Minerva kneeling beside the bed, her head resting against Albus's limp left arm, Melina behind her, and the Headmaster, unmoving, no longer gasping for breath, his pallid face now completely relaxed. Severus stood and approached the door, but Robert closed it and stepped out into the room.

"I believe that Minerva needs privacy at the moment, Professor Snape," Robert said, not moving from his position in front of the door. "You, or someone, should tell the other Heads of House and the Board of Governors. It would fall to Minerva to inform them . . . but it would be a service to her if someone else did it for her."

Severus nodded and spun on his heel, leaving the room without another word. Sprout first, then Flitwick. He would keep his mind on his task, not on what he might feel. He could not feel anything yet. Later, perhaps, he would allow himself to feel something. He also had to tell the Dark Lord. That would come next. A message sent to Pettigrew and one to the Malfoy manor. And make it clear that he would be tied up at Hogwarts for some days, unable to leave if he wanted to position himself properly with McGonagall, who would be the Acting Headmistress. The Dark Lord would take that as a valid excuse.

Severus was surprised to be recalled to the Headmaster's...Headmistress's...Office, summoned by Minerva, less than an hour after he had left to do what had to be done.

"Professor Snape," she said with a nod, looking pale but composed behind the large desk. "Thank you for your assistance this morning. Robert and Filius tell me that you have been most helpful. I appreciate that. I assume you have informed your other . . ." Minerva paused. "That you got word to him, somehow."

Severus nodded. "I sent word to the Malfoy mansion and to Pettigrew. He likely knows by now and is celebrating," he said with a grimace.

"I need you to bring me Malfoy immediately. Do not allow him to go to breakfast in the Great Hall. Make haste. Do not allow him out of your sight and do not tell him that the Headmaster has expired. Filius will be making the announcement at breakfast. I will join you all in the Great Hall if I am able, and I will need to speak with you later this morning. But bring Malfoy straight here to me. Tell him nothing."

Severus rose. "If I may Floo to the Slytherin common room, and then return the same way with him, that would be most expeditious."

Minerva nodded and waved her wand at the fireplace. "Feel free. I will expect you presently. Also, please leave as soon as you have delivered him to me. Not a word about anything to either of us."

"You want him off his guard, then."

"Precisely...and I want to minimise your own involvement, yet make it sufficient to ensure that your . . . your promises are kept. I will keep him safe for you, Severus," she said softly. "Know that he will be safe."

She seemed suddenly fragile to him. "Are you..."

"You need to hurry, Professor," Minerva said more briskly.

Severus Flooed through to the Slytherin common room. Less than five minutes later, he was back, Draco in tow, the younger Slytherin in pyjamas and slippers, his dressing gown hanging off of him, looking rumpled and blinking. Good, he'd still been asleep.

Without another word, Severus walked to the door and left the office.

"What am I doing here? This isn't right," Draco protested.

Minerva simply raised her wand and sealed the door, using more than one variant on the Colloportus, one of which was the invention of a friend and would be unknown to the boy. She turned to the windows, and she drew the draperies closed, one by one, with rapid flicks of her wand.

"Come with me, Malfoy." She put her hand on Draco's shoulder and steered him from behind.

"Where are you taking me? I haven't done anything! Where's Professor Dumbledore? And Professor Snape! If you're going to punish me for something, I insist my Head of House be here!"

Minerva appeared not to hear his protests as she prodded him toward a door at the back of the office. She flicked her wand again and the door opened to them. She pushed him in ahead of her, closed the door behind them, and they were in utter darkness for a moment before Minerva lit the lamps.

Draco's mouth fell open. "A library . . ." He couldn't tell how large the library was, but he could see that it held some very ancient books, indeed.

"A library. Very good, Mr Malfoy," Minerva said drily. "One point to Slytherin. But this is not our destination."

She steered him around a table, stopped, then waved her wand. A trapdoor appeared in front of him.

"Open it, Mr Malfoy...no, not with your wand. Put that away."

Draco put his wand back in the pocket of his dressing gown, then bent and heaved at the large iron ring on the right side of the door. It took him two tries to pull it open, and when he did, he fell backward as Minerva lightly stepped out of the way.

"Get up, Malfoy. Go on down. Now."

Draco looked up at McGonagall. He licked his lips and swallowed. "What's down there?"

"You will see when you get there."

He stood and looked down. "It's dark."

"Don't you like the Dark, Malfoy? There are twenty-one stairs down, then a landing, then there are another nine stairs down to your right, then three more to the right of that. You needn't run down them headlong. You may proceed cautiously. When you get to the bottom, stop," Minerva directed.

Draco took one step, then a second. He looked down into the blackness below. He looked up at Minerva and the lights of the library. He shook his head. "I'll tell . . . I'll tell . . ."

"Whom will you tell, Mr Malfoy?" Minerva asked softly. "Your father? Rather . . . incommoded at the moment, from what I understand. Perhaps your mother then? Or your aunt? Or one of your . . . new friends? Go down the stairs, Malfoy. You've taken two. Nineteen more, then right and nine more down, then three."

He stepped down again, then he reached into his pocket for his wand.

"No, Malfoy, no wand. Just count."

Draco placed one hand against the wall and stepped down, then again, counting as he went. He thought that McGonagall might be behind him, but he didn't look back again. He had reached the twentieth stair when he heard a booming crash. The trapdoor had closed behind him. He stopped and began to turn.

"Continue on, Mr Malfoy," came Minerva's soft voice in the dark. "Continue on."

At the landing he paused, then turned to his right and shuffled forward, feeling for the next step with his right foot. He found it, swallowed, and counted nine more steps down, he turned right again, found the next step with his toe, and went down the final three steps.

"Very good, Mr Malfoy. Now take three steps forward."

It was pitch dark. They could be a mile beneath the earth for all that he could see. There could be a gaping chasm in front of him, and he would never know it. His hand went for his wand again.

"No wand, Mr Malfoy. Three steps forward."

He swallowed again, then he took three steps forward and stopped, relieved he hadn't fallen into a pit.

"Very good, Mr Malfoy." He felt her hand on his shoulder. She patted it, then rested her hand there. "Very good. Do you know where we are?"

"No, ma'am."

"We are in the Heart of Hogwarts. Its magical heart, not the physical centre. It was once located in the dungeons, long, long ago, but it hasn't changed in form or function. It was moved with very great care by a previous headmistress."

They were still in the dark, not a sliver of light to be seen, and Draco still had no idea why he had been hauled out of bed by his Head of House with nary a word, dragged to the Headmaster's Office in his pyjamas and slippers, then brought here by an apparently deranged Head of Gryffindor.

"What have I done? Why am I here?" His voice was now plaintive.

"Oh, Draco, you know what you have done," Minerva said with a slight sigh. "As to why you are here . . . I wish to show you something."

The suddenness of the light hurt his eyes, and without thinking, Draco raised his right arm to shield them. After blinking a few times, he saw that they were in a round stone room, apparently a part of the tower. The ceiling was too far above them for him to see it in the gloom, and other than several torches along the wall, the only thing in the room was a large, carved table.

"This is what I wish to show you." Minerva waved her wand and a translucent replica of the castle rose from the centre of the table. "You may look at it more closely, if you like, Mr Malfoy."

He took a few steps forward and he smiled despite himself. "You can see everything!"

"Yes, and we can see more if I do this." Minerva waved her wand and part of the miniature castle cut away to reveal the Great Hall. "We are seeing a reflection of the castle just as it is at this moment, but, as is obvious, none of the occupants. This is used to . . . to track changes that are made to the physical structure of the castle. If the Headmaster wishes to move a room or a staircase, he may watch it here and see the result. It is generally done only once a year, although occasionally, Hogwarts herself moves a room, and if we lose it, we can come up here and look for it more easily than if we were to do a search of the entire castle." She waved her wand again. "And here, Mr Malfoy, is the Slytherin dormitory, your common room here . . ."

She let him look at the castle for a while, and as he moved around the table, she removed and replaced different sections so that he could see different parts of the castle, until he was back looking at the Slytherin common room again.

"Quite beautiful, isn't it, Mr Malfoy? And your common room . . . it has been your home for the past five and a half years."

He nodded in agreement.

"And here, here is everything that the model does not show us." Minerva waved her wand in a large arc, and suddenly the walls seemed transparent, and Draco could see everything on the Hogwarts grounds. "This is a real view, not a model, although the Heart does have the capacity to record thirteen moons of activity on them and replay them on her walls, but at a speed which does not allow us to see individual events, though we can see large changes...the changing seasons, for example."

Draco walked forward and reached out his hand. It still felt like a stone wall, not like glass.

"There is the Quidditch stadium where you have spent much of your time. The Forest . . . the gates . . . the lake under which Slytherin House resides. It is all here. It has been your home, too," Minerva said. "Would you like to see the last thirteen moons?" Without waiting for a reply, she waved her wand, and the view changed, and Draco watched as the seasons rushed past, the year passing by in less than five minutes. Minerva waved her wand again, and again it replayed, winter, spring, summer, autumn, winter again. "Beautiful, is it not, Draco?" she asked softly.

Then the grounds were gone, and there was only a blank stone wall before him. Minerva waved her wand, and Draco watched the model of the castle vanish as well.

Minerva looked at him for a long moment, then she said, "Do you wish to destroy all of this, Draco? Truly? Your home? Your home, whatever its faults?"

"No, no, of course not! Who would say such a thing?"

"That is what some people wish, you know. To destroy Hogwarts, to destroy more than Hogwarts. To change wizarding society into something it has never been . . . and presenting a false picture even of that. Do you believe you would be happy then? Happier?"

"My father..."

"Your father, regrettably, made certain choices, and he now lives with the results of those choices. We all make choices in our lives, Draco, and they are our own. Even allowing someone else to make a choice for us is a choice in itself. You need to choose, Draco. You are a bright young man, a wizard with potential. You can make your own future, if you choose to have a future."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Let me see your left arm, Draco. Now. Let me see it."

Draco scowled but complied, pushing up his left sleeve, and Minerva let out an audible sigh of relief. "Good, very good. I still would have helped you, if you wish it, but it would have been much more difficult."

"I don't need your help," Draco replied, his voice low and sullen, but lacking conviction.

"We all need each other, Draco. We may make our own choices, but we all need others."

"I don't."

"No? And where do you get your food? Grow it yourself, do you? And cook it? And your clothes...make them all on your own as well?"

"That's not the same..."

"Why? Because it is all . . . anonymous? Or because you pay for some of it, at least? Or does your mother pay for it? That is all completely irrelevant. We do not live in isolation, Draco. We depend on one another, and we are interconnected," Minerva said softly. "Your choices affect you and they affect others, as do mine. And now I am choosing to offer you my help. We can take you somewhere safe, and your mother too, where you cannot be found. You do know what will happen to you otherwise...perhaps not specifically, but I am sure you have seen what fates have befallen others. Your father at the moment is in a relatively safe place, and yet not one where I would want to spend one minute. But he is nonetheless safer there than he would be in the company of his master, wouldn't you say?"

Draco stared at her stonily.

"I have some news for you, Draco. But before I give it to you . . . I would like to see your wand." She held out her hand. "Give it to me, please."

Unsure why he was complying, except that she was his teacher and he had already complied with everything else she had requested, Draco drew out his wand and handed it to her, releasing his hold on it reluctantly.

Minerva's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Draco! Do you not see? You must accept our help. What one of your new friends would have handed me his wand? Please, Draco, let us help you."

"I can't . . . my mother..."

"There are some others on their way to her as we speak. We will do all we can to save her, too."

Draco shook his head, his eyes fixed on his wand in McGonagall's left hand.

"I have news for you, as I said..."

"Is it my father? Is he dead?" Draco asked.

"No, as far as I know, your father is as well as can be expected. But another died this morning. Albus Dumbledore died today."

Draco went completely white and he backed up away from her until he hit the table.

"You know that he has been ill," Minerva said, maintaining her composure. "This morning at five-fifty, he died. I am Acting Headmistress. Dumbledore wished me to save you. He died so that I could save you, Draco."

"What?" Draco asked, astounded.

"We knew what was asked of you. Dumbledore could have . . . he could have done things differently, and your choice would have been different, and it would have come later. But now you have this choice: go back to Voldemort and suffer the consequences, be given another dreadful task to fulfil, or trust us, come with us, let us keep you and your mother safe." Minerva handed Draco his wand. "If you wish us to help you, stay here while we finish making certain arrangements. If you wish to return to Voldemort, leave now. But remember, it is not only your own fate that you have in your hands."

"Professor Snape..."

"Has absolutely no idea what we are talking about," Minerva said, interrupting. "I told him to fetch you immediately, impressed the urgency of it upon him, and told him to leave. I cannot allow him to know of this, for reasons you may guess."

Draco swallowed. "But Professor Snape . . ."

"Do not worry about him, or at least wait until after you have made a decision for yourself and your mother. You know that your mother will not go unless you also agree. If you love your mother, you have only one option that I can see."

"All right." Draco nodded, suddenly resolute and standing straighter. "All right. I don't want to go back. And I don't want Mother to suffer any more than she has. I will go with you."

"Good. We must time this properly, however. We need to ensure that . . . to ensure that Voldemort cancels your task completely...we do know what you've been trying to do in the come-and-go room, Draco. Fiddling about with the wards, trying to get that thing to work through them so that you can let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. For reasons I will not discuss with you, Voldemort must have time to dismiss that task from his mind and to plan for you to do something else instead. Once he has done that, we will move you."

"But how will you know?"

"There are various ways. It is not your concern. Until that time, you will stay here. I will need to collect some of your hair so that we can have someone impersonate you temporarily...in order to limit your friends' contact with your impersonator, we will say that you have come down with a contagious illness that confines you to the Hospital Wing," Minerva explained. "In the meantime, we will make you as comfortable as possible, but you are not to leave on any account, not even to open the trapdoor, no matter what you may see or hear. It is for your own safety that you remain here. When the time is right, we will move you. It shouldn't be more than a few days. Likely after the Headmaster's funeral, which will be here on the grounds...probably the interment, as well." She looked around her at the barren stone room. "I will send a house-elf with some things to make you more comfortable, including a Charmed toilet and washstand. And breakfast," she added, looking at his pyjamas again. "We'll eventually sort out some clothes for you, as well."

"My mother..."

"It would not be safe to bring her here. We will have you meet her later. If anything goes wrong, I will tell you, Mr Malfoy." She started up the stairs, then stopped on the landing. "Would you like to see the grounds? I will make them visible to you if you promise that nothing you see will lure you from this place."

"Yes, please, ma'am."

Minerva waved her wand, making the grounds visible through the walls once more. She looked at him, a peculiar expression crossing her face, then said, "I can do it during his funeral, as well, if you like. If you are still here and you want to see it."

Draco nodded, and Minerva left him alone to consider his future.

Minerva stood at the window, looking out over the grounds, watching her brother Murdoch exit the gates cautiously, his wand drawn, then Disapparating immediately. Soon, no doubt, people would converge on Hogwarts, school governors, Ministry officials, members of the Order . . . she wished she could at least tell the latter to stay away at least until the funeral, but they would come and she could not deter them.

Hearing a step behind her on the stairs to the Headmaster's suite, Minerva turned her head and said, "Robert?"

Robert nodded and came down the last few steps to join her at the window.

"Tomorrow morning, then," Minerva said, continuing to look out the windows. "You are ready?"

Robert nodded again. "You know that I will do all that you need of me. It is as Mother would wish it, too."

Minerva sighed. "I wish that I could see her. It will be difficult for her, I know."

"She will understand," Robert said softly. "Write her a note."

Minerva nodded. "Melina is still with him?"

"She is. She is almost . . . it will not be much longer."

"I would go up, but I have to continue with the day. I need to go to the Great Hall. The students will need me." Minerva looked up at the tall, clean-shaven wizard beside her, his greying auburn hair mussed. "Thank you, Robert. We both appreciate it, you know. All that you have done."

Robert smiled slightly. "I owe Uncle Albus far more than I can repay him. My freedom for the next several months . . . it will be no hardship, Minerva."

"It may be longer, Robert."

The wizard shrugged. "As long as you need me. However long that may be."

Minerva squeezed his arm. "Thank you. I am going to breakfast now. Filius has no doubt made the announcement. If you are hungry, you may call Wilspy, unless you would prefer to come to breakfast with me."

"I will eat upstairs, thank you, Minerva," Robert said with a nod.

"Good. I will return as soon as possible, but there are certain practicalities that I must deal with. I cannot give any appearance of weakness, particularly once the school governors and Ministry officials begin arriving. I may not be back until this evening."

"Do as you must. I will await your return."

"Tell Melina that I wish her to stay."

Robert gave a slight bow. "As you wish. We will see you later."

Minerva nodded to him, then left the Headmaster's Office...no, the Headmaster died that morning. It was her office now, the Acting Headmistress's Office, unless the Board of Governors came to some other decision, and she had to ensure that they did not, or all she had done over the past months would be for naught. And she had to give Severus instruction that she did not wish to give him. She would tell him that he must return to Voldemort as soon as possible and give the Dark Wizard a new focus: Severus's role at Hogwarts now that Dumbledore was not Headmaster. She would tell him her plan to make him her Deputy and of what he must insinuate to his other master about access to her and to the wards. It would set into motion a great deal of pain for Severus, but perhaps at the end of that pain, he would emerge whole. Perhaps not. Perhaps he would only die at the end of it all. Minerva thought of Albus and of his faith. She set her teeth, raised her chin, stood straight, squared her shoulders, and rode the spiral staircase down to play her role as if the fate of the wizarding world depended upon it, for it very likely did.