Note: This chapter takes place much later: the following April. There’s a short epilogue to follow. As always, the characters and setting belong to JKR.


Lying can be done with words, and also with silence.

Adrienne Rich, “Women and Honor: Some Notes on Lying”



Snape registered Dumbledore’s sudden sharp movement and broke off what he was saying. He stopped pacing to stare at the dead man. The portrait was silent and evaded Snape’s eyes.

Snape considered those facts. After a moment, he walked to his desk and seated himself, spinning his chair to face the portrait. “Dumbledore. Do you have something to tell me?”

The dead man remained mute a moment more and then said, “Severus, you know that there are things I still cannot tell you. One should assume nothing.”

Snape’s mouth thinned. He had just been speaking to the portraits about the likelihood that the Dark Lord would wish him to remain in residence at Hogwarts over the summer. What assumptions had he been making?

That I shall remain.


Ah.


“We are not discussing whether you choose to confide in me, Dumbledore. We are discussing the fact that I have made plans contingent on my continued survival and presence— an extremely foolish oversight on my part which you have not corrected. I have assumed that I could defend myself adequately from an attack by a student or colleague, and that the Dark Lord would choose to preserve my life while he still believes me both useful and loyal.”

Painted hands tightened on a painted chair, but Dumbledore said nothing.

Snape lowered his voice.

“I am to understand that this is not the case? That I should expect to be betrayed to the Dark Lord, or that he’ll abandon his sense of my utility? Dumbledore, is another of your plans soon to mature? How long may I expect to have? I need to make arrangements!”

Dumbledore hesitated. “Voldemort may eventually come to Hogwarts to, ah, pay his last respects to me. He may possibly have decided at that point to eliminate you; more likely, he may decide subsequently to do so. It depends on how quickly he realizes some of his expectations have been thwarted. I cannot be more explicit than that. I don’t know—I can’t know—in what order certain events will occur. You may be in no danger at all, outside of what must seem normal to you, of course. From what you’ve reported of his recent actions, the danger is at any rate not imminent.“

“This is fortunate, as my game would almost certainly be apparent to my successor were I to die today. You have considered, Dumbledore, that my successor will be the Dark Lord’s tool in reality, and that I will, as it stands, have betrayed myself to him?

“To take but one example: I’ve been to minimal trouble concealing that the castle’s food budget is for too many people; my prepared excuse was incompetence, that I was unfamiliar with the budget appropriate to this year’s diminished student body. I should have set up a cover embezzlement scheme. Close investigation now would show that the Galleons have, in fact gone to food—and by now nearly every child in Hufflepuff is implicated in smuggling to the children in the Forest.

“I don’t judge that the Dark Lord would move at once against the centaurs—that was the reason for using them!—so the Muggle-born children should be safe enough for a time. But he would punish the Hufflepuffs for their conspiracy. Moreover, tracing this would give the Dark Lord cause to doubt my loyalty entirely—and to look more closely at all I’ve been doing here.”

Snape’s cheeks paled with anger and he stood again to confront the portrait. “Did you not understand when I told you, Dumbledore, that the children are relatively safe physically only because the Dark Lord assumes he will have them in the end? If he truly comes to believe that he has no chance of winning most of them, he is perfectly capable of massacring every soul in the Castle! That would almost certainly be a tactical error; it would solidify resistance against him in the general population. But however desirable that result might be, I, for one, am not eager to sacrifice these children to make it happen.

“You owed me that information, or at least to point out my error in making plans that were contingent on my being alive to carry through my deceptions! And what of Potter? You’ve made your plan for him depend on my survival, while another plan may bring about my premature death! Have you made other arrangements to tell Harry—what he needs to know—if I die before it is time to do so?”

The portrait said, “Not completed arrangements, no, Severus. I have an alternate plan.”

Snape’s lip curled. “Undoubtedly using me as the conduit for the information affords the opportunity for a touching rapprochement, but I think in this case practical considerations should prevail. The considerations being, as I understand, that the information needs to reach Potter within, ah, a specified range of events, and from a source relatively insusceptible to the Dark Lord’s Legilimency?”

Dumbledore nodded. Snape continued angrily, “That last consideration reduces the options, I should think, to myself and to your portraits. Possibly Phineas would be kind enough to give Miss Granger a message that Potter should seek out one of your portraits when the proper circumstances arise… which, obviously, may not be the same as the circumstances you gave me as my cue. Harry does know my Muffliato spell. With that and his cloak, he should be able to reach one of your portraits and converse with you in privacy. Though I’m sure that not even a portrait would relish that conversation—any more than I should.”

Dumbledore said slowly, “That has always been my alternate plan, Severus. You’re right that wanting a rapprochement, as you phrase it, between you two was one of my reasons for arranging matters as I had. But it is not, as you seem to think, for reasons of sentimentality. Hate weakens Harry; it makes him less able to do what he must. I know Harry. He holds on to anger. This is one of his greatest weaknesses; you saw that in trying to teach him Occlumency. But he is also just, and he knows how to appreciate sacrifice and loyalty. It will be better for him if he knows your true motives, Severus, and best if that knowledge comes from you. If you survive that long, I do hold you to your promise to tell him. In case you do not, I request that you leave a phial of memories here in this office, for Harry to see if you die before you can reveal yourself to him.”

Snape raised his head slightly, his eyes glittering. “And you, Dumbledore, will you have Phineas contact Miss Granger tonight, or as soon as may be, to implement your alternate plan?”

“I fear to do that, Severus. I fear Harry’s realizing he has a means of contacting me. My portrait hadn’t woken when he saw it, and he is subject to the temptation of wishing to bring back his dead. I thought to wait until the necessity presented itself, if you did not spare me that necessity altogether.”

“But if Miss Granger
loses her bag tomorrow? What of your alternate plan then?”

“A point, Severus. Hmm… I could have Phineas say that we cannot use that means to communicate while you are alive, lest you, as Headmaster, spy on us. Harry knows the portraits normally obey the Headmaster—if we say the portraits are bound to tell truth if asked directly and that you regularly interrogate me as to whether I have been in contact with him—that should cover it. Would you be so kind as to consent to mislead the young for a good purpose, Phineas?”

Black’s portrait snorted in response.

“And you, Severus; will you prepare a phial, and leave it where I can tell Harry how to find it—and instructions as to whether you want it destroyed afterward?”

Snape bent his head and was utterly still for a moment. Then he spoke without inflexion. “Behind your portrait. Instructions shall be left in the phial.”

Snape shook his head slightly, dismissing the previous matter, and sat down again. “We need to determine what evidence I may have left for my successor. I suspect it was a grave error to have used this office openly. I assume it would be sealed against someone who were truly the Dark Lord’s tool, as it was against Umbridge?” He waited for the nods from the portraits.

“Then my very presence here betrays my loyalties. It seems we need to find a way to hold the office physically open for my successor while still withholding the Headmaster’s capacities. The two obvious approaches would be to modify the original enchantment, or to Confund the gargoyles, stair, and door to allow physical access while the rest of the office remains, ah, uncooperative. Comments, or a third alternative I haven’t considered?”

A shellac-darkened portrait answered. “The original enchantments were set up in my time—a dispute with the Board of Directors over a clearly unqualified appointment—and they are tied to the portraits. It requires a unanimous decision of previous Heads to exclude someone.” She sniffed. “Dolores Umbridge clearly met the qualifications for exclusion. I feel confident your successor will as well, but as it’s tied to us, we should be able to control it along the lines you’ve indicated. Never been done before, but then Umbridge has only been the second to undergo exclusion…. We really don’t use it casually; mere incompetence,” she said, glancing pointedly towards one of her neighboring portraits, “won’t expel the Head. I will point out that, if you’re dead, your portrait will presumably have a voice in the matter.”

“My portrait!” Snape looked startled for a moment. Then a gleam entered his eyes. “Ah… and I assume my successor would face stony ostracism from the other portraits, while my own was available to give counsel and advice? The more reason to keep my loyalties concealed, then.”

The prospect apparently appealed; he ran a finger over his lips, covering a small and rather evil smile. He mused pleasurably for a moment and then turned briskly to other matters.

“The Headmaster should always be ready to delegate more routine tasks,” Snape intoned blandly, “so I have had Minerva take over administering the potions for me, with Slughorn brewing. So I don’t believe that can be traced to me even if detected. I’ve made sure Slughorn has adequate stores of the two rarer ingredients; the Dark Lord doesn’t seem yet to have realized he might track the potions’ manufacture by the purchases of those two, but if he does Hogwarts should still be protected into fall term at least. Hiding the fact that the Castle has been provisioning the children in the Forest should be easy enough, now that I’m alerted to the necessity.”

He looked up, slit-eyed, at Black’s portrait. “I believe you were known, sir, for your, ah, accounting skills, among others? As I recall, our House’s common areas were significantly refurbished during your tenure?”

Phineas Black looked affronted at the suggestion. Then he nodded slightly.

“I look forward to your assistance, then. We’ll need to take thought too for whether we can set up a way to continue to provision the Forest under the new regime—I confess I don’t see a solution, but perhaps your ingenuity will suggest one. As to the enchantments on the Carrows’ rooms, they have already been set up to look like Dumbledore’s legacy.” He frowned slightly. “It may be possible to use death magic to make that protection permanent—even to extend it—if I can do so unnoticeably.”

Dumbledore interrupted sharply, “Death magic is the darkest—I would not have you put your soul at risk!”

Snape answered coolly, “Death magic is normally used for the darkest of purposes, but was not Lily’s sacrifice a form of it—and your own, protecting Harry’s quest? There’s power in death; I see no reason why mine should not serve a purpose. Assuming, as I said, that it can be performed without betraying my true purposes. I have, as it happens, never researched death-driven curses, but no one will be much surprised, now, by any… darker interests I may evidence.”

Dumbledore snapped, “Even the research is dangerous! You must not proceed on those lines!”

Snape leaned back in the headmaster’s chair and crossed his arms, hiding his hands in the blackness of his robes. Dark hair swung back from a white face as he lifted his black eyes to meet the dead man’s hard blue stare.

Snape’s voice was velvet. “Must not, Dumbledore? You chose to use your death in a way I—protested. You risked my soul then for your purposes. You can hardly complain now if I choose to do the same. If you can establish that Lily’s death magic was ineffective, you are welcome to return to this topic. For now, I have two more pressing questions regarding this death that you are bringing on me: Is the Dark Lord likely to decide to kill me slowly or on impulse, and is he likely to do so with his own power or through a proxy?”

Dumbledore glared at him in silence.

Snape assumed the air of patience he reserved for his blasts of sarcasm against first-years.

“If the Dark Lord comes to the decision slowly, I may be able to detect him grooming my replacement. Knowing his choice would be an obvious advantage, as well as giving warning to tie up my affairs. If he is likely to decide on impulse, however, I should not waste my energy watching. As to the other question, if he kills me himself—it opens further possibilities for death magic. A protection on Hogwarts, for example, might be disguised as a curse against my murderer—along the ‘May all your spells misfire!’ line. I think I could convincingly simulate being, ah, spiteful enough to wish to deprive my killer of his favorite spells. It might even be possible to set up true wards.”

At the thought, Snape turned to another portrait. “Madam Selwyn, might I have access to your notes on the last ward revision?”

“Behind my portrait,” the bronze-and-blue witch responded.

Snape returned his heavy gaze to Dumbledore’s portrait, his thoughts hidden.


The easiest form of death magic is the death curse: against the Carrows, perhaps, or even against all proximate Death Eaters. Such things have been done. That might, depending on circumstances, be the best use of my death. I must weigh, also, whether I can accomplish more with a death curse or by misguiding my successor. I can ponder all this later—I hope. First I must ensure I leave no evidence endangering the children.


Dumbledore said reluctantly, “He is likely to decide quickly in the end, but after much deliberation of the overall problem I will have given him. And he is extremely likely, I should say almost certain, to do it himself.”

“Are you withholding other information that affects my duties here?”

“No, Severus. I will confide in you if it becomes safe to do so. I distrust you—only as I distrusted myself, and was right to do so.”

“And … the boy, Dumbledore? Harry, whom you do profess to trust? Are you hiding more things from him that affect his duty?”

“I must, still. There are choices he has to make unknowing. But … he took the Philosopher’s Stone from the Mirror. I think he can find his way to the right ending.”

Snape grimaced at that and then returned to the main issue. He swept all the portraits with his black gaze. “Obviously I need to hide or destroy my original potions formulae. I can bring to mind no other written evidence.” He raised his eyebrows in an implied question: no answer.

Snape ticked off points on long fingers. “My using this office, the accounts, the enchantments on the Carrows’ rooms, the potions. Does anyone perceive anything else that might betray my loyalties to my successor? Things I can be proven or suspected to have done that don’t fit my supposed role? Incongruities that might catch my successor’s attention should the Dark Lord find a subtle person for the post?”

Selwyn’s portrait said thoughtfully, “If the Room of Requirements is penetrated, Dumbledore’s eye may be detected, which you should have been able to use to spy on the Army. In general, that you have clearly not reported to your alleged master the true state of affairs here.”


That I haven’t reported the truth. Trust a Ravenclaw’s talons to grasp the heart of a problem. Facts always contradict the best-constructed falsehood. Little loose ends, the binding of which leaves others… truth has such unfrayed simplicity in comparison. Elegance, as it were.

Like a potion, really; one right and perfect way to brew it, so many ways to go wrong. Fortunately, few (least of all the Dark Lord, blinded by his arrogance) look past a construction to the truth, if the lies are well tailored to flatter their existing ideas.

But I am weary of my inventions.


“For the first,” Snape said to her coolly, “I have surely had no better cooperation from this Office than my successor will receive. I can’t imagine what good you deceased Heads thought you could do, spying on the children as you were; indeed, I can’t imagine what good you portraits do at all. You’re inconsequential; I hope to have made that clear to the Dark Lord.

“As to concealing the, ah, true state of affairs… on the one hand, I have never been perceptive enough, even with skills in Legilimency, to care much what lies under surface obedience. I have always been content to be hated so long as surface respect was rendered. Why should I have changed as Headmaster? I witnessed fear, sullenness, a wish to defy that few dared act on. Well, perhaps more than a few. For on the other hand, obviously I have been terrified of being punished for my incompetence—which you must own to have been impressive!—in letting the situation get so out of hand. Self-deception and cowardice… unassailable explanations for my lapses in life, why should they not serve at my death also? Perhaps I should leave a half-written report—blustering, blundering, and self-justifying—making it clear I was concealing Hogwarts’ deteriorating morale to save my arse.

“And perhaps it is time for obedience, if not morale, to improve somewhat.”

Snape looked down, his hair shadowing his face.


When brewing a potion at high heat, one tends the cauldron without interruption, without lapse, with exquisite attention. If one must leave it, one banks the fire. One banks it, or risks disaster. I have been so proud of the children’s defiance. But I cannot trade their lives for it. Not their lives.

Yet—I would have traded my own life, gladly, not to have betrayed Lily—at their age, at any age.

What would I trade their lives for?

Their souls.

But this danger is too immediate. I will not trade their lives.


Snape’s hands clenched.

He turned back in pain to the portraits. “Too many of my protections will lapse at my death. I may need to start adjusting the children to a harsher regime. Almost spot the Hufflepuff’s food brigade—almost overhear the Slytherins’ treason—almost catch Longbottom’s friends on the seventh floor. Teach them more caution, especially as the Dark Lord seems to be increasing the pressure.”

I have been indulging myself watching them. I haven’t taught them how much danger they truly are in.

He could still kill them all.


The lines on his face deepened.

“Let the Carrows have more scope in—discipline. Dumbledore, your judgment?”

Dumbledore’s painted eyes had lost all trace of twinkle. “The balancing you have been doing, preserving their bodies, and their souls, and their spirits and courage….I think, Severus, that only a Slytherin could have been subtle enough, devious enough, to encompass it. Yet I agree: you need now to damp their defiance enough to make them keep their heads down if you do have a successor. I will point out that the shock of your murder will incline most of the children to freeze and go more cautiously with the new regime. Moreover, the fact that such a loyal servant as you could be murdered will not incline them to increased trust in either the Dark Lord or your replacement.”

“Reassuring points, both,” Snape said dryly.

They were, in fact; his death would be his ally in that regard.

Snape’s hands relaxed slightly. He scanned the portraits once more. “I rely on you all, then, to give this matter your utmost thought. Bring to my immediate attention any discrepancies you spot, anything I overlook, any ideas you may have. Bear in mind that the Headmaster normally has a full staff of the living to advise him: I have only you.”

He swept out to return to his private rooms.

My carelessness has been inexcusable. To fall into the error of acting as though my survival were assured, or even likely—at this stage of the game! I knew better at twenty. And letting pride at my children’s courage override my best judgment for their safety…. I could have gotten them killed. I still might, if I don’t move fast enough now.

Snape stalked off in cold disgust at his own folly.