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Unintended Consequences by xenasquill [Reviews - 2]

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Chapter 4: The Mysterious Appointment

Professor Albus Dumbledore sat at the large desk in the Headmaster’s office, his forehead furrowed as he skimmed over a parchment requiring his signature that his deputy, Professor McGonagall, had sent up. Golden afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the window, and Fawkes, the Headmaster’s phoenix companion, was sunning himself on his perch, his eyes closed. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door.

Glancing at the watch with twelve hands that was lying on the desk beside his inkpot, Dumbledore realized it was later than he had thought. Time, already, for the mysterious appointment he had agreed to this morning. This ought to prove more interesting than the details of the start-of-term budget…

“Come right in,” called Dumbledore, looking up from the parchment. He glanced around quickly to ascertain that the dead Headmasters and Headmistresses were all drowsing in their portraits, as was their habit in the afternoon. To his satisfaction, they were. He cast a quick charm to make sure they stayed that way. Given the identity of his visitor, he suspected the matter under discussion would be the Trelawney prophecy. That was a secret he dearly wanted kept.

The heavy oaken door opened, and a figure clad in black robes stepped in. It was Severus Snape, right on time. His greasy black hair, as always, was parted in curtains that fell on either side of his sallow face, with its hooked nose and dark eyes. But for a hint of stubble on his chin, he might almost have been the boy Dumbledore remembered facing in his office, some four years ago. His eyes were not flashing with anger today, though, Dumbledore noted. He did not look like he had slept well, if at all, the night before.

Snape halted at the doorway. An emotion that might have been uncertainty flickered in those cold, dark eyes.

“Good afternoon, Severus,” said Dumbledore, smiling encouragingly. He waved, indicating a chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Snape seemed relieved to be offered a seat. As he walked into the office, Dumbledore saw that he retained the twitchy movements of the schoolboy he had recently been. As Snape stopped for a moment in front of the desk, he reached into his robes and drew forth his wand. Dumbledore did not react, though he raised an eyebrow as Snape placed the wand firmly on the desk.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Professor,” Snape replied, as he stepped back from the desk and sat in the indicated chair.

“May I offer you a drink?” asked Dumbledore cordially.

“No,” responded Snape shortly, and then added awkwardly, “Thank you.” The few years out of school, Dumbledore thought, had not added much social polish to Snape.

“So, Severus, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked.

“There is something I must tell you,” Snape began.

“Yes? Do go on,” encouraged the Headmaster.

“Last winter, when you were interviewing for the Divination post…” Snape broke off. Dumbledore regarded him calmly over his half-moon glasses, clear blue eyes fixed on his face. Resolutely Snape raised his chin and made eye contact with Dumbledore.

“I heard part of the prophecy made by Professor Trelawney,” he said flatly.

“I suspected as much when the barman recounted your escape,” Dumbledore replied gravely.

“I immediately reported it to the Dark Lord. You see, I am a Death Eater.” As he spoke, Snape bared his left forearm, revealing a brand of the serpent and skull symbol that marked him as a member of Voldemort’s inner circle of followers.

Dumbledore’s heart sank at the sight. This, he had not suspected. He knew that Voldemort liked to recruit them young, but he always hated it when he learned that he had lost yet another one. Not to mention…what did Voldemort know, now?

“But this would seem, pardon me, more a matter for the Auror Office,” Dumbledore said quietly, having quickly composed himself after the shock.

“I expect you will call them, after,” Snape agreed, his glance falling briefly on the wand he had placed on the Headmaster’s desk. Dumbledore saw that a visible shudder shook him, and he paled as he continued, “Azkaban is no more than I deserve. But you must hear me out first! The Dark Lord has narrowed it down to two boys, the sons of the Longbottoms and…the Potters. He plans to hunt down and kill both families, the Potters first.”

“How do you come to know this?” Dumbledore asked.

“There is a raid planned, for tonight. I am to go along. It is an honor,” Snape spit out the word, his lips twisting as if he had tasted something bitter, “granted me for bringing word of the prophecy.”

Dumbledore regarded him steadily. “I too have identified the boys, and they have both been well hidden as a precaution. Where is the raid to take place?” he asked.

“I do not know. It will be revealed when the raiding party assembles. Rumor has it that the information comes from a spy within the Order of the Phoenix,” Snape responded. More bad news, Dumbledore thought to himself. If Snape could be believed, that is.

“Rumors are notoriously unreliable, in my experience,” Dumbledore observed. Probing for more information, he added, “How came you by this…rumor?”

“I was told by Lucius Malfoy,” Snape replied without hesitation. Well, he had certainly been a protégé of Lucius’s in school. Dumbledore could believe that they had remained in touch. But Lucius, to lead such a raid? The boy…no, young man…must be lying to him.

He is to lead the raid?” Dumbledore inquired skeptically.

Snape shook his head forcefully. “No. No, he is too valuable for his contacts and influence; he doesn’t do that kind of work. He heard it from his sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. Yes, that made a lot more sense. The former Miss Black was much more the type to be found fighting on the front lines. So, he had to consider the possibility that Voldemort had managed to recruit a spy in the Order. Not an easy task, that. Dumbledore himself would very much have liked to return the favor, but he could hardly ask someone to join the Death Eaters for him, and turning one was difficult, given the…motivation…Death Eaters had to remain loyal to Voldemort once they joined. He stared pensively out the window. “A spy,” he said quietly.

“That is my understanding, yes,” Snape replied. “Move the Potters, watch their hiding place, and you will have your proof tonight, if you doubt me.” Dumbledore was beginning to think that, despite the black mark against him, he did not, after all, doubt Snape. Still, he needed to know why he had suddenly become the beneficiary of all this information.

“Humor an old man, Severus. Why are you here, in my office, telling me all of this?” Dumbledore inquired.

Snape seemed taken aback at the question. “It’s good information, you will see. My reasons are hardly important,” he replied.

“You could have tried to Floo me. You could have sent an owl with this warning. You could even have tried to arrange a meeting in a neutral location,” Dumbledore pointed out reasonably.

“You might not have come, or, you might not have believed me,” Snape replied angrily.

“Fair enough. Well, my word carries some weight at the Ministry,” Dumbledore said. “If I explain your reasons to them at your hearing, it might win you a lesser sentence.”

Snape said nothing. His lips thinned, and Dumbledore thought he saw a new, stubborn set to his jaw. Apparently, he was far less willing to part with his own secrets than with Voldemort’s. Let’s see just how unwilling, Dumbledore thought to himself.

“I guess we are finished, then,” Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence. He stood up and strode towards the fireplace. “Bartemius Crouch will, I daresay, find a few minutes to spare for this matter,” he said, picking up the china bowl in which he stored his Floo powder. As he reached into the bowl, he turned, and fixed Snape with a penetrating gaze. Snape returned his gaze, his face an unreadable mask. So, mention of the notoriously harsh head of the Auror Office was not enough to shake him. It was time to try a different tack.

“It was so important to you to be believed that you came here, expecting to end up in Azkaban,” Dumbledore observed. “For reasons of no importance, you say. Your master can be a subtle wizard at times. I see his hand in this. The supposed urgency of the message, designed only to deny me the time to see the pitfall he is placing at my feet. Yes, perhaps I should instead react in a way he would not expect. I am sure the Potters are perfectly safe where they are hiding. And you are free to leave - to return to Voldemort - though, I will be warning the Ministry about you.”

Snape had paled as Dumbledore began speaking, and now sprang up out of his chair. “I was NOT sent!” he shouted indignantly.

“Lord Voldemort will be displeased to hear that your mission to me has failed, but you should have considered this danger when you joined the Death Eaters,” Dumbledore said, setting the bowl of Floo powder back down on the mantelpiece.

“No! You must believe me!” protested Snape.

“You expect me to believe you, about a matter of great importance, and yet you are not willing to explain your reasons,” Dumbledore said. “I must, then, think of what reasons I can.”

Snape dropped his head in defeat. “Very well, sir,” he said softly. “I will explain myself. Ask what you will, so long as I have your word you will warn them.”

“Thank you. Come, let’s sit back down,” said Dumbledore, moving back towards the desk. Seated again, the Headmaster eyed Snape thoughtfully. “Let us start with the cause of this mess, then, shall we? Why did you become a Death Eater?”

Snape was sitting again. He spoke in a low voice, his eyes downcast. “My own stupidity sickens me, when I think on it now. I had no reason to join. I deserve whatever happens to me. But not…others.”

“No good reason, then. But there must have been, at least, a bad reason?” Dumbledore persisted.

“At school…you remember, the time Black sent me into the tunnel with the werewolf…”

“Yes, quite vividly,” Dumbledore agreed. “The fact that you’ve never, to my knowledge, disclosed Remus’s secret may be why I decided to grant this interview. But, back to your explanation.”

“After, I was furious. I could imagine nothing worse than what had happened. I could almost laugh to think it, now,” he interrupted himself, a bitter smile twisting his face.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, regarding Snape expectantly.

Snape resumed. “Except, that same year, Lily Evans was in NEWT Potions class with me, of course.”

“Of course, she is a very gifted young witch,” Dumbledore agreed.

“She noticed me. In class, she would ask me for pointers, or share an idea of her own. We both spent a lot of time in the library, studying, and she started to sit down at the table next to me. We talked. I had never met anybody like her. I knew she was becoming close to Potter as well, but I hoped…” Snape trailed off. Dumbledore did not press for an explanation of his hopes.

“Anyway, we all finished school,” Snape resumed his narrative in a moment. “She and I lost touch, mostly, though we would still talk occasionally when our paths crossed. Then I happened to read about her upcoming wedding in the Prophet. Looking back, I’m sure she never knew-I never dared to tell her-but, anyway, that was when I stopped avoiding Lucius’s little hints. Idiot that I am. There’s no leaving, once you’re in. I’ve thought about it, often, in the last year.”

“So, if I had refused to see you, what would you have done?” Dumbledore asked.

“At first I planned to go on the raid, and see how many of my fellows I could take down. Her knight in shining armor.” Snape’s face twisted into a horrible smile. “But I knew it would not be enough,” Snape’s voice broke as he stifled a sob, then he forced out, “and she would die anyway.” He bent nearly double in his chair and covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, considering what he had heard. The story was entirely plausible. That Lily had befriended Snape, he actually knew. And, if the story was true, and everything else he had been told was true…the young man was bright, resolute, desperate, and already a Death Eater. He waited, patiently, for Snape to stop crying. A few minutes later, Snape sat back up, his eyes still red, but his expression composed.

Dumbledore smiled at him, his blue eyes twinkling. “Lily has spoken well of you to me, on occasion. I believe you. You may consider the Potters warned.”

A relieved sigh escaped Snape. “Thank you,” he said fervently.

“You are welcome,” Dumbledore replied. He paused for a moment to choose his next words carefully. “But I have a proposition for you, as well. I can offer you a sort of escape from the Death Eaters.”

Snape frowned at Dumbledore, looking puzzled.

“It will not protect you from Voldemort,” Dumbledore said. He saw Snape wince at the name.

“It will not keep you from seeing terrible things,” he continued. “The danger to you will only be greater, should you accept my offer.”

As Dumbledore spoke, Snape’s eyes narrowed in thought, and then widened, his mouth gaping open as comprehension dawned. The young man really was quick, Dumbledore noted, pleased.

“In a few short minutes you have confirmed my suspicions about two Death Eaters, and brought me the news that there is a spy in the Order. Your warning about tonight’s raid may save three lives. If you are willing, I would send you back to the Death Eaters as my spy-”

“Yes,” breathed Snape, interrupting Dumbledore’s explanation, as more tears welled up in his eyes. “Yes, I will do it.”

Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. Dumbledore suppressed a smile of satisfaction. He looked down at his watch again.

“In that case,” Dumbledore said, tossing Snape his wand, “you will still be needing this.” Snape caught it in the air and put it away inside his robes.

“I have a busy evening in front of me,” he continued, getting up from his desk. “There are arrangements to make. When is the raid to take place?”

“We are meeting at ten p.m.,” Snape replied, rising as well.

“Good to know,” said Dumbledore, as he walked over to the door. Snape followed him.

“We definitely have more to discuss, but now is not the time. May I get back to you at the Owl Post Office?”

“Yes. I will be sure to check it a couple of times a day,” Snape replied.

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore, extending his right hand. Snape stood for a moment, a surprised look on his face, then extended his own. Dumbledore grasped it firmly and they shook hands.

“Good day, then,” Dumbledore said with a smile, as he opened the door to usher out his guest. “And…take care.” Snape nodded.

“Good day,” he said, turning back for a moment before walking down the spiral staircase to the hallway.




Unintended Consequences by xenasquill [Reviews - 2]

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