Darkness and Light 2: Personal Risks
by R. J. Anderson

Chapter Two: My True Account

"Hullo, heartless stuck-up Slytherin wench," said George Weasley cheerfully, sliding into the seat across from her in the library. "I've got a question for you."

Maud did not raise her head, or otherwise acknowledge his presence: she merely turned a page with an elaborate show of unconcern and said in a barely audible voice, "Go away, George."

The last time she had been seen speaking to the Weasley twins, the results had not been pleasant. Her roommate Muriel had picked a fight with her over it, and the incident had nearly destroyed her relationship with Snape. After that, Maud made a rule for herself: no talking to Gryffindors, especially Fred and George Weasley.

It had not been easy, because the Weasleys were likeable rogues who not only shared Maud's Potions class but also her interest in research and experimentation outside of class, and they seemed to know instinctively that her coldness toward them was half-hearted. Even now, despite the fact that she had not spoken so much as a word to them in weeks, they persisted in bantering with her, asking her advice on potions ingredients.

Part of her longed to respond to their appeals, if only in secret. But how many double lives could she lead? It was one thing to fool her fellow students, another to fool Snape. And it was not fair to betray the trust Snape had placed in her, when he had already given her a chance to have a normal life and friends like the Weasleys instead of allying herself with him -- and she had chosen him.

"Yeah, I know," said George, "you're afraid of your love for me. But seriously, why don't you ever show up to any Quidditch matches? Slytherin played Ravenclaw on Saturday, and practically your whole house was there, waving their little green flags and hissing. But not you. Now I call that unsporting."

The words were spoken flippantly, but Maud heard the message behind them: I'm worried about you. You need to get out more.

"George," she said, still not looking at him and moving her lips as little as possible, "I can't talk to you. I'm sorry, I just can't. Please go away before you get me in trouble."

There was a moment of strained silence. Then, abruptly, George pushed his chair back and left. Maud bit her lip hard and took a deep breath before picking up her book and continuing to read as though nothing had happened.

She had come to the library in search of a quiet corner to work and a chance to escape from Muriel's baleful gaze -- by now she had little doubt that her roommate was one of Umbridge's spies, and the less time she spent in the other girl's presence the better. But if puzzling over Snape's oblique remark of last night had troubled Maud's concentration, George's visit had shattered it. For several more minutes she stared down at the page before her, but the book might have been written in Gobbledegook for all the sense it made. At last, with a sigh, she slapped the volume closed.

Athena must have sensed her mistress's turmoil, for she nibbled Maud's ear, coaxing from her a reluctant smile. "I'll be all right," she murmured, stroking the little owl's head. Satisfied, Athena fluffed out her feathers and nestled down, and it was with a lighter heart that Maud left the library and headed back toward her dormitory.

She had only taken a few steps when a hand came out of nowhere, closed on her arm, and yanked her out of the corridor, straight through what had appeared to be a solid wall. Too startled to scream, she stared at the flushed face of George Weasley, who was brandishing a lighted wand and grinning at her.

"Now," he said, "where were we?"

* * *

"He's got no right to use you this way, Maudie."

Alastor Moody's square jaw was set, his expression more grim than ever. "When I think of the damage he's done already--"

Maud dropped her hands. "What? What harm has he done? Yes, he blinded me, but I've forgiven him. And if I don't have the right to forgive Snape, who does?"

"It's not that." Her uncle's voice was thick. "You've no idea how many things... how much he's made himself a part of you, without you even realising it. D'you know that Potions was your father's worst subject? Your mother was no great hand at it either. But you've always been uncommonly good with a cauldron, and I never knew why... until now."

She sat back, shaken. "I don't believe that. It's nonsense, it's -- it's madness. Why shouldn't I do well at Potions, even if my parents didn't? I had good teachers at Durmstrang, and Snape is one of the best. You're just--" She stopped herself just in time. Enough people over the years had called Mad-Eye Moody paranoid: she had sworn she never would. "--worrying too much," she finished lamely.

Moody stared at her a moment, as though unable to believe what he was hearing. Then he rasped, "I'll kill him," and lurched to his feet.

"No!" Maud was out of her chair in an instant, gripping her uncle's arm. "Listen to yourself. Do you really have so little faith in me, after all these years? You raised me, taught me, made me what I am. You of all people should know -- I'm not giving up the fight against the Dark. I'm carrying on with it, in the best way I can."

She took a deep breath. "It's true, Professor Snape was a Death Eater. He hurt people, maybe even killed them, for Voldemort. And even now that he's changed sides -- and I've no doubt that he truly has -- I don't always like his methods, and I don't always agree with his actions. He knows that, too: I haven't hidden it from him. But he hasn't tried to make me change my mind. I swear to you, Uncle: I may be playing the same game as Snape, but I am not -- NOT -- his pawn."

* * *

"Sorry to drag you in here like this," said George, letting go of her. "Although the look on your face when I grabbed you was dead brilliant. Look, are you in trouble? I mean, the kind that isn't fun."

Maud hardly heard him: she was staring around the room. It was a small, windowless space, with a series of shelves on one side and a row of hooks on the other. Several cloth bags -- most likely potions ingredients -- hung from the latter, while the shelves carried books, sheaves of parchment, and other school supplies. "Where is this?"

"It's a travelling closet. Fred and I found it last year when we were practising our lock-picking. It hadn't been opened in years, and it must have been lonely or something, because once we cleaned it up and put our stuff in it, it started following us around the school." He shrugged. "So we stuck a Chameleon Charm on the door, and now nobody else can even find it."

"I'm impressed," said Maud, and meant it.

"Point is, nobody knows we're here, and nobody can hear us, so--" George poked her in the shoulder. "Are you going to answer my question or not?"

Maud sighed. "I'm not in trouble. Really." When George looked sceptical she continued rapidly, "I just can't afford to be caught talking to you, for reasons I can't go into."

His face darkened. "It's Umbridge, isn't it?"

"No, it's not Umbridge." Which was, fortunately, true. So far, Maud had successfully avoided attracting the woman's notice, and she was determined to keep it that way. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but--"

"Muriel Groggins, then? I heard she went barmy when she found out you'd been talking to us." He made a face. "Stupid cow, can't even make up her mind which one of us she fancies."

That, at least, answered a question Maud had been wondering about for some time. But honesty compelled her to admit, "No, it's not Muriel either. I just -- I wish I could tell you, but I can't."

"You're working for your uncle, aren't you?"

This was dangerous ground. "Why would you think that?"

"Because he's really cool, and something about you reminds me of him. Not your looks," George added hastily. "Just... I dunno... something."

All at once Maud saw her way out of the situation. "You're right," she said, lowering her voice. "He sent me here to keep an eye on Snape. He doesn't trust him, you see. But I have to be a model Slytherin, do you understand? And I can't be friends with anyone who isn't in Slytherin -- my uncle included. Or I won't get close enough to Snape to learn anything." As far as the bare facts went, it was the truth: whatever George chose to make of it was another matter.

"I knew it!" He was triumphant. "Fred and I had a bet on, he'll be narked when I tell him."

Maud was surprised. "He thought I really was a heartless stuck-up Slytherin wench?"

"Nah. He thought you had something on with Snape and didn't want to upset him. I told him he was barking, that was just one of Muriel's stupid rumours and we'd both heard you deny it, but--" He shrugged again. "Sometimes Fred gets these ideas."

Maud chose to let this pass. "George," she said, with an urgency that was only partly feigned, "you have to understand. You can't tell anyone what I've just told you. Fred, if you have to, but no one else. If the truth gets out, there could be real trouble."

The Weasley twins obviously knew how to keep their mouths shut, if they thought something was important enough: after all, they already had any number of secrets of their own. But even if worst came to worst and Maud's story leaked out, it would not be the whole truth, or even the most damaging part of it. Whatever might happen to her after that, at least she would not take Snape down with her.

The impish glint in George's eyes vanished, and his expression became sober. "Fred and I already agreed on it," he said. "If you told either one of us what was going on, we'd help if we could, but we'd keep it to ourselves." He stuck out his hand. "Fair enough?"

Maud forced a smile and shook the hand he offered. "Fair enough."

An alliance with the Weasleys wasn't something she had planned, but now that it had happened, she had to admit it might not be such a bad idea. She'd have to be careful, of course, and keep her meetings and conversations with them to a minimum. But it would be good to know she could call on them if she needed help, and they'd be happy to have her advice when one of their experiments didn't quite work the way they'd planned.

George's grin returned. "Brilliant! Fred owes me ten Galleons."

Only it was a pity about that bet, Maud thought, a little wildly. Fred would never know he had been right.

* * *

"You're too young, Maudie." The words were a groan, wrenched from deep within her uncle's broad chest. "You think you know what you're doing, but you've no idea of the danger."

"Then you're the one to blame. Who sent me to Durmstrang to spy on Karkaroff? And to Hogwarts to spy on Snape? You didn't think I was too young to handle those assignments. Why are things so different now? Are you jealous because I'm working with Snape, instead of you?"

She had gone too far. Before the last word even left her mouth, she knew it, but it was too late to take the accusation back. Alastor Moody winced visibly, and collapsed back into his chair as though she had struck him.

"That was a hard thing to say, girl. A very hard thing to say."

Maud did not reply, knowing that anything she might add would only make matters worse. She simply stood there looking at him, a painful lump forming in her throat.

"I suppose I am to blame," he said heavily after a moment. "Your father was a gentle man, Maudie, and a scholar. When the Death Eaters came, he didn't fight them. Your mother tried -- she had spirit, did Margo. But she didn't know how, and it only got her killed."

He looked down at his big hands. "When you came into my care, I swore to myself I wouldn't let you grow up without teaching you to take care of yourself. Because I knew I might not always be there for you. But it may be... I went too far, pushed you into independence before your time. For fear you'd be too much like your father, I made you too much like me."

"Not too much," said Maud softly, but her uncle did not seem to hear. He went on:

"I should have known you'd be drawn to Snape. You've grown up accustomed to taking risks." He gave a heavy sigh. "And living with one tough, ugly fighter for most of your life, it'd be hard for you to resist a man who seems to be cut from the same kind of cloth."

If Maud had still been eating, she would have choked. Alastor Moody, comparing himself to Snape? But when she thought about it...

She decided not to think about it. "Uncle, I am working with Professor Snape. I am learning from him. And yes, I feel a certain... affinity with him. I believe that he is a man of integrity, and that I can trust him. But that's all. He's never given me any reason to--"

No, that was definitely heading in the wrong direction. She cleared her throat and tried again: "I know you're afraid for me, that you want to protect me from making bad decisions. But you're forgetting -- I'm not in this alone. Headmaster Dumbledore knows exactly what's going on, and I know that he wouldn't hesitate to intervene if he thought I was acting unwisely. Even if he didn't care about me personally -- and I know he cares about all his students -- he'd feel obliged to look after me for your sake." She paused. "Unless you've decided that he's not to be trusted, either?"

"Don't talk nonsense, girl," growled Moody. "I may have a reputation for jumping at shadows, but I'm not so mad as to think I've got no friends."

"Is Dumbledore so mad as to think he's got no enemies?"

"Of course not."

"Then why don't you ask him why he trusts Snape?"

Mad-Eye rubbed the side of his mangled nose. "Maudie, I had that conversation with Albus a long time ago. And again this summer. We simply don't agree where Snape's concerned, and that's a fact."

Maud let her hands drop to her sides, defeated. "Then I suppose... there's nothing more to say."

* * *

"You are quiet tonight, Miss Moody."

Snape's tone was as civil as she had ever heard it -- perhaps he felt some remorse for embarrassing her the last time they had met, although she knew better than to expect he would say so.

"I have a lot to think about," she said, pushing up the sleeves of her robe and donning the dragon-hide gloves she would need to protect her hands from the Dissolving Solution they were making. One drop of this stuff, given a minute or two, could melt just about anything. Which was why it had to be brewed with meticulous care, adding the ingredients in just the right order, and then ladled hastily into adamantine flasks before it could eat through the bottom of the cauldron you were making it in. She could just imagine the havoc such a project could create if Snape ever tried to teach it in class -- which was, of course, why he didn't.

"Then allow me to give you one more thought to consider." His smile was faintly sardonic. "I find myself... obliged... to be absent from Hogwarts tomorrow. I have arranged for a substitute to teach my classes, and expect to return before nightfall, but I have a potion brewing in my office which must be stirred in an anti-clockwise direction every five hours, and it will require attention while I am away. I trust that I might rely on you?"

She was surprised. "Of course."

"Good." He handed her a vial of Basilisk venom. "Two drops only, Miss Moody: and count to ten before you add the second."

Maud nodded. Carefully she unstopped the beaker and let a drop fall into the depths of the cauldron. One... and two. The solution frothed, gurgled, and turned bright green. "All right. What next?"

Silence. She turned to see Snape looking at her, his dark eyes steady and almost quizzical, as though he were pondering a question to which she might be the answer. "What should I add next?" she repeated, and he shook himself back to attention with an obvious effort.

"A griffin feather. You should find one in the drawer of the workbench to your right."

"Well, if not, I can always throw in my wand," said Maud. It was a lame attempt at humour, but Snape's black brows lifted, as though he were intrigued.

"Griffin feather? Unusual. An Ollivander wand?"

"Gregorovich." She pulled it out of her sleeve and showed it to him. "Apple wood and griffin feather, eleven and a half inches. I bought it my first year at Durmstrang."

"Interesting," he said, but did not elaborate.

Maud opened the drawer, and sorted through several different kinds of feathers until she found the one she wanted: slate-grey with a bluish, metallic sheen. "Do I just throw it in, or...?"

"No. First dip the tip of the feather into the potion and draw the Hebrew letter daleth."

"I don't know that one," said Maud, embarrassed by her own ignorance. "Would you show me?"

Snape made an exasperated sound. "Here," he said, striding over to her and snatching the feather from her hand. "Take off your gloves: the potion's not corrosive yet, and they'll only interfere."

Maud obeyed, laying the dragon-hide gauntlets down on the workbench. Snape put his hands on her shoulders and moved her so that she was standing between him and the cauldron, half-bent toward the seething liquid deep within. She could feel the heat breaking over her in waves as he slid his hand down her arm to her wrist, lacing his fingers through hers so that they held the griffin feather together. "Now... pay attention," he said, his voice dropping an octave, and she shivered.

"A horizontal line... like this..." he murmured, guiding her hand into the cauldron as he spoke. The feather stroked across the surface of the potion, leaving a faint tracery of silver against the shimmering green. "And then a vertical line... so."


Athena sidled closer to Maud's neck, no doubt finding Snape's nearness uncomfortable. She wasn't the only one, thought Maud. Her heart was beating in her throat. His hair mingled with hers where it lay across her shoulder, threads of unfamiliar black against the white-gold. He still smelled of herbs, a dry and faintly musty scent, but not unpleasant. His left arm encircled her, holding her around the waist lest she fall into the cauldron, and even through two layers of robes and skin she could feel the hard sinew beneath. The fingers that twined with hers were cool, their touch light and almost gentle, despite the firmness of his manner. It was not until the edges of her visual link with Athena darkened and the room gave a disconcerting lurch that Maud realised she was holding her breath.

"There," said Snape, straightening up and releasing her. His voice sounded strained, as though he too were breathless. "I suggest you study and practice writing the Hebrew alphabet at the earliest available opportunity, Miss Moody. There are several potions which draw on it in some capacity."

Maud's cheeks were flushed. She let the griffin feather slide into the potion and stepped away from him. "I'll do that," she said. "Thank you."

"You need rest," Snape observed, his eyes narrowing critically as he looked her up and down. "If you wish, you may return to your dormitory. The remaining steps of the potion are simple; you will not be missing anything of consequence."

"I... yes. I think that might be a good idea." Maud smiled weakly at him. "Good night, then."

"Good night," he said, and turned his back on her.

She left the dungeon and headed down the cold, damp-smelling corridor, taking deep breaths in an effort to clear her head. It helped, but not completely.

...the rumours, said Snape's acid voice in her mind, are no longer rumours...

Over the past three days she had thought of several possible interpretations of those words, and nearly convinced herself that he had only meant to embarrass her into leaving him alone with his work, or to remind her to beware of giving Muriel further opportunity for malice. Anything but the straightforward, obvious reading, because in her experience Snape was seldom either straightforward or obvious.

Now she knew better, and it terrified her.

My uncle will kill you, she had teased Snape in Dumbledore's office, after they had first shaken hands on their alliance. And he had taken the threat seriously, more seriously than she could quite understand at the time. After all, she had only meant that Uncle Alastor would not approve of her apprenticeship with Snape, and that it would take some effort to win him over.

Hadn't she?

You're too young, Maudie. You think you know what you're doing, but you've no idea of the danger...

Heaven help her, she thought desperately. Her uncle had been right.

To be continued...