Shadows of Doubt

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potter character, but playing with them is always a treat.

Chapter 7: Shadows of Doubt

Severus stood up and stretched as he returned the last container to the cupboard. With a sneer, he levitated the carton filled with outdated ingredients to the door. He decided to spend the remainder of the afternoon devising lessons for the N.E.W.T classes. The biggest challenge he faced, other than the number of dunderheads who would be taking each class, was teaching new material with minimal backtracking.

Quirrell had been a decent instructor with the Dark Lord constantly whispering in his ear. Lockhart... Lockhart had been a complete joke, hardly more than a glamorous version of Umbridge. Grudgingly he had to admit Lupin had managed to cover most of the basics and the number of students passing O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. levels that year had been respectable. The up-coming N.E.W.T. class had already seen the three Unforgivable Curses thanks to the impostor Moody two years ago, but Severus would no doubt need to demonstrate them again. Potter and Weasley were in the class; possibly his aim could be off just a little? No, it was unlikely anyone from the Ministry believe it to be an accident. Last year had been an utter waste of instructional time. He certainly had his work cut out for him.

"Professor Snape, sir?" whispered the squeaky voice of a house elf. "Winky is having a message for you from Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dismissing the house-elf with a curt nod, Severus took the parchment.

Severus,

Albus Dumbledore

"Hopefully it involves the sacking of Miss Hawkins or the expulsion of Harry Potter," he grumbled sourly, glancing at the clock. He'd find out in a little less than an hour. Until then, there were Dark Arts lessons to plan.

Reading the bottom of the letter, Severus saw that Dumbledore had given him a list of points that they had agreed needed to be covered and had given him leave to teach the class as he saw fit, which included permission to teach practical defense. The thought of using Potter as a guinea pig during class and allowing the boy to humiliate himself in front of his peers was indeed very enticing. However, it would only be done if, or more likely when, the whelp was in need of a set-down. The day ickle James Jr. openly displayed his arrogance, was the day Severus would show the boy how much he still had to learn.

Severus's lips twisted into something that almost passed for a smile. "And I'll greatly enjoy it."

Refreshed after a bath and a brief nap, Callista sat at her desk, filing the last of the notes Severus had sent up. Since she felt very comfortable with the basics of Potions instruction, she sincerely doubted that she would be needing any of it, but she organized the stack of papers anyway, intending to return them to Severus at the end of the school year in a significantly more presentable fashion than she had received them.

Scanning the shelves for a book on Dark creatures, she began to prepare her Dark Arts lessons according to the outline Dumbledore had given her. Callista diligently refreshed her memory about kappas and hinkypunks until she felt she could discuss them in her sleep.

A tug at her sleeve startled her. "Please be excusing old Diddy, Professor Hawkins, miss, but a package is arriving."

"Thank you. Take it to my quarters, please," Callista said, following the house-elf through the door.

Diddy placed the large parcel on the bed--her order from Twillfit and Tattings--and vanished from the room. Thankful for the distraction, Callista tore open the paper and lifted out the robes and other 'appropriate' attire out of the capacious depths of the box. The two academic robes for teaching and her everyday attire were hung in the wardrobe without ceremony. Even though they were well made and, all things being relative, attractive for wizarding fashion, she wasn't looking forward to wearing robes full-time. At least she had been able to convince her mother it was unnecessary to purchase undergarments or sleep wear. Those were the few Muggle luxuries she was determined to keep.

Next came the two things on which she had splurged: her dress robes in a rich, iridescent, apple-green silk and a matching pair of high-heeled boots. In the Muggle world, the cut would have been considered exotic, but it was very becoming and much more appealing than the evening gowns Lucas had always suggested. She held the shimmering folds to her cheek. Temptation got the better of her, and Callista quickly pulled the garment over her head, and slipped on the shoes. She turned to the mirror smiling.

"You look lovely, my dear," her mother said, as eighteen-year-old Callista smoothed the front of her new, pale green dress robes. The day after she had come home from Hogwarts, she had received a letter of acceptance from St. Mungo's to join their Healer trainee program. Her parents had decided to celebrate her appointment in style. The new robes and party were exciting, but best part was that Severus would be coming. She hadn't seen him for two weeks and was eager to feel his touch again, even if it was only during the course of a dance.

"Please be excusing Blinky, Miss Callista," whispered a house-elf. "Sirius Black is wanting to see miss in the garden."

Callista started when she realized the sensation was real and not part of her memory. At her side was a house-elf, dressed in a little girl's sailor dress and hat. The creature was holding a small scroll. "Winky is having a note for Professor Hawkins from the headmaster."

Winky? Why was that name familiar? Callista took the note, saying, "Aren't you the Crouch house-elf?"

"Winky was the Crouches' elf, but Winky failed to be keeping Master's secrets and was dismissed in shame!" Tears filled the tennis-ball sized eyes, and the house-elf dropped to the floor in a heap of uncontrolled sobs, leaving Callista to stand in shocked silence. She remembered Winky from the few times she had gone with her parents to visit the Crouches. The elf had been a fixture in Barty's playroom, keeping the pair supplied with sweets and biscuits and entertaining them.

In a gently commanding voice, Callista ordered, "Winky, you are to stop crying and tell me how exactly you ended up at Hogwarts."

Sniffling and blubbering, Winky poured out the story of Barty Crouch Jr.'s fall from grace, incarceration, fake death, and his years as his father's prisoner. Callista listened in horror as the elf wailed out that the young man's last moments had ended with the Dementor's Kiss. Callista was numb. The Barty Crouch she had grown up with, who had taught her how to ride a broom, and whom her parents had hopes of her marrying was nothing more than a soulless shell, existing in pointless oblivion until mercifully claimed by death. Had he gone down fighting for either side, she could have dealt with it better, but the thought of him sitting vacant-eyed in an Azkaban cell made her ill. No one deserved such a punishment.

"Winky is only wishing that Professor Snape has been trying to stop the Dementors!" wailed Winky pulling in her long ears. "My poor, poor young Master Barty!"

Desperately attempting to pull herself together, Callista demanded, "How exactly was Professor Snape involved?"

"Winky is not fully remembering, Miss. Professor Snape was being told to stand watch on my Master Barty by Professor Dumbledore, and--and Master Barty was saying about Professor Snape's secrets. Professor Snape made Master Barty all quiet with a red spell. When Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was arriving, Professor Snape told Minister of Magic Fudge that Master Barty was a bad, dangerous boy. Then the Dementors was coming, and Winky was being all cold and remembering her Mr. Crouch giving her clothes, and... and.... " Winky crumpled to the floor in a howling, miserable heap.

Had Severus deliberately convinced Fudge to have Barty Kissed? Why would he do that if he knew how much Barty's testimony would change things? Or was it because of what Barty's information could change? Callista buried her face in her hands. Should she confront Severus? No, he would only make some snide comment about her not knowing the situation in its entirety, or worse... he would avoid answering her questions. No matter what the situation, Callista felt it was immoral and unforgivable to sacrifice a person's soul to cover one's own ass. Besides, she had no desire to listen to Severus Snape's self-serving justifications or evasions. Only one other person could provide her with answers, and Callista had no problems confronting him.

Ignoring the sobbing house-elf and tossing the dress robe onto the bed, Callista quickly changed. Turning to Winky, Callista said, "I would greatly appreciate if you would finish unpacking my parcels. When you feel up to it, that is."

Winky looked up at her with a watery smile. "It would be Winky's pleasure to be serving a person from a noble family once again."

Noble? Callista smiled at the remark in spite of her growing anger as she pushed open the portrait door leading from her rooms to the hallway. If being a from a pure-blooded family made one noble in a house-elf's eyes, who was she to argue with that logic.

The empty corridors echoed her footsteps as she stormed towards the headmaster's office. A list of things she wanted to immediately confront him with forming in her mind. The gargoyle gave her a cheeky greeting.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our newly appointed schoolmistress. Here to see the headmaster, are you? Hope he gave you the password or you're stuck here until Professor Snape arrives,"

Only if hell has frozen over, thought Callista, knowing full well Severus would probably make sure the doorway sealed itself in her face just for a cheap laugh. "Fizzing Whizbees."

"Always a favorite," the gargoyle said, sliding aside to reveal the tightly spiraling staircase.

Callista trotted up the stairs so quickly that she was a bit queasy before she was half way up. Taking a moment to lean against the wall and compose herself, Callista decided that barging into the headmaster's office and demanding information on what Winky had told her was not the best was to handle the situation. One thing was certain, Dumbledore probably wouldn't readily or completely answer her question about Severus' involvement in what happened to Barty; she would be better off trying to catch him off guard--if it was possible--and derive an answer from his reaction. She slowly climbed the remaining stairs, rehearsing possible ways to air her grievances before springing the question she wanted, no, needed to have answered.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait between posts, real life keeps sucking up my writing time like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Someone please send a Time Turner and/or a house-elf. Carrots for the plot bunnies would also be appreciated.