Chapter Eight


Remus approached Severus’s cell with a heart filled with equal measures of hope and trepidation. Perhaps passing through the wards that surrounded the cell was responsible for his new ability to be felt by others. It seemed a logical assumption to make. That tingling he’d felt the first time he’d gone through had to mean something, and magic did sometimes have odd side-effects and unexpected interactions. Going through the wards again might make a difference, yet he’d been through them twice already; once on the way in and once on the way out of the cell, and he couldn’t remember feeling the same tingle the second time.

He hesitated just outside the door, suddenly reluctant to discover that immersing himself in the wards wasn’t going to make any more difference than it already had. However, he was here now so he might as well give it a try. If it didn’t change anything, he wasn’t any worse off, was he? Deciding that he was being ridiculous and wasting time as well, he pushed himself forward and through the door into the cell.

Severus looked up as Remus glided into the room and raised an eyebrow. “Back already? Did you find out anything useful?”

Remus felt a sudden wash of embarrassment as he realized that in his rush to test his theory, he hadn’t made it up to the library to look around for something that might help Severus.

“Uh, no, I didn’t get up to the library. I made a discovery about my own situation and wanted to test out an idea.” As he realised that he didn’t feel the tingle this time, he grimaced and shook his head. “It didn’t work, though.”

“What didn’t work?” asked Severus.

“Well, you know how I told you that people were just walking through me and never noticing I was there.”

“Yes.”

“That seems to have changed.”

“Really? How so?”

“The first time I came through the wards that Kingsley put on your cell, I felt this tingle go through me. Ever since then, I’ve been able to move a bit easier. Then I touched you and you felt it, remember?”

Severus shuddered. “How could I forget?”

“Well, at the time, I assumed the fact that I could make you feel my presence was connected to your being able to see and hear me while other can’t, but now I don’t think that’s the case.

“After I left here, two other people felt my presence. Although I don’t seem to be any more solid than I was before, I made Kingsley’s arm tingle just like yours, and one of the other Aurors actually collapsed after walking through me. I thought the tingle I felt going through Kingsley’s wards might have been what changed me. So I came back to try it again, hoping that if I went through them often enough I might become more solid. Then maybe other people would be able to see me.”

Remus shrugged. “But now I think that whatever effect the wards had on me, it was a one time thing. I didn’t feel anything when I went through them this time.”

“You could be right,” said Severus thoughtfully. “The wards might very well have interacted with your spirit form in an unexpected way, but if so, it’s just as well it didn’t turn out to be a recurring effect. You don’t really want to become more solid as you are now. You have a solid body upstairs. What we need to figure out is how to merge the two of you together again.”

“It’s past the time when the ritual could be effective, Severus,” said Remus simply.

“Perhaps that isn’t the only way.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. As he saw the concern reflected in Severus’s eyes, Remus felt warmed at the realization that Severus did still care about him after all.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, more for Severus’s sake than his own. “Though I don’t know of any other way. Do you?”

Severus shook his head. “Nothing definite, but I don’t think you should give up just yet.”

Remus got the feeling that Severus wasn’t telling him everything, but he figured if the man was holding something back, he probably had a good reason for it. He wasn’t going to start doubting Severus again. So he smiled and nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll go back upstairs and do what I intended to do before, see if I can find out something that can help you.”

“Did you learn anything useful when you encountered Shacklebolt, other than the fact that you can make him physically uncomfortable, that is?” Severus smirked at the thought of Kingsley’s discomfort. Considering how much discomfort the man had forced on him, it seemed only fair for Remus to return the favour on his behalf even if he didn’t do it deliberately.

“From what little I heard, Kingsley and his men seem more intent on searching the castle for Death Eaters than on finding out who killed Irma. They were discussing the fact that they couldn’t get into the Headmaster’s tower because they didn’t have the password.”

“They won’t either,” said Severus smugly. “I reinforced the wards myself this past year. No one, Auror or Death Eater, will be able to get in there without a password.”

“I’m sure they won’t. Well, I’ll just head up to the library then. I’ll let you know if I...”

Before Remus could finish his thought, a house-elf blinked into being in the middle of the room. The elf crossed over to where Severus sat on the bed, bowed and handed him a large book.

“Professor McGonagall asked Mercy to give this to you, Headmaster, sir,” squeaked the elf.

Severus reached out and took the book. “Thank you. I’ve been expecting it.”

With a nod, the elf vanished as quickly as she appeared.

“What’s the book?” asked Remus, curious to know what sort of reading Severus was doing.

Already perusing the table of contents to find what he wanted, Severus glanced up briefly. “It’s from the library. I had Minerva send it down to me. I wanted to do a bit of research on separation hexes.”

Touched that even in the midst of his own personal mess, Severus would spare a moment to try to help him, Remus smiled. “Thanks. I really appreciate that, especially under the circumstances.”

Severus shrugged. “It’s of no matter. There isn’t anything I can do to change my situation at the moment, and I need to occupy my time.”

“Well, it matters to me, so thank you.”

Looking a trifle uncomfortable, Severus nodded and turned his eyes back to the book in his hands.

“You know, the fact that Minerva is willing to send you that book is a good sign,” said Remus. “It means she doesn’t believe you killed Irma. If she did, she’d never send you a book on dark magic.”

“That’s true. She does seem to believe me.” Severus ran his index finger along the edge of the open book, caressing it gently, before looking up at Remus once more. “However, I could use your eyes and ears out there looking for more evidence. Besides, the longer you stand there talking to me, the longer it will take for me to read this book and see if it contains any information that will allow me to help you.”

“Right, sorry. I’ll just head back upstairs.” With a final quick smile, Remus walked back through the door. Even before he’d completely vanished through the wood, Severus had returned to his reading. He had an unpleasant feeling that the clock was ticking for both of them.


~oOo~

At the sound of a key turning in the lock, Severus quickly shoved the book Minerva had sent him under his pillow and lay down on it, feigning sleep. Heavy footsteps came into the room and stopped. He could hear breathing, but whoever was there didn’t speak. Severus raised his eyelids a fraction to see if he could make out who it was. Obviously it wasn’t either Minerva or Remus. Minerva had a lighter, quicker step and Remus had no step at all at the moment. He bet himself that it was Shacklebolt back for another go round, and he was smugly pleased to see that he was right.

Opening his eyes completely, he raised himself on one elbow and cocked an eyebrow at his visitor. “Back so soon? Did you bring the thumbscrews with you this time?”

“Cut the sarcasm, Snape. I haven’t got the time to trade insults and snide remarks. I need to ask you some questions.”

Severus sat up. “I already told you I didn’t kill Irma Pince and that, although I heard her murder take place, I didn’t see who did it. I’m not sure what I can add to that.” His voice hardened as he noted the scepticism on Shacklebolt’s face. “I can see I’m wasting my time pleading my case to you. It’s clear you don’t believe me.”

“Frankly, I don’t know what to believe about you anymore, and I really don’t have the time to try to sort it all out right now. I still have to tackle clearing out the Ministry and getting Azkaban back under our control, not to mention rounding up all the Death Eaters who turned tail and ran after their leader was defeated. Babysitting you just isn’t a high priority right now. You’re going to have to stay here at Hogwarts until things calm down, and I can deal with you properly.”

“If I’m such a low priority, why are you wasting your valuable time standing here talking to me when you could be out there doing truly important work, and I could be getting some much needed rest?”

“I need some information from you.” Kingsley looked as if this admission was somewhat distasteful.

“What sort of information?”

“I need the password to the Headmaster’s tower. It’s the only part of the castle we haven’t been able to search.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and a smirk caught at the corner of his lips. “If your highly trained Aurors couldn’t manage to get inside, surely you don’t think the Death Eaters could?”

“They could if they knew the password,” said Kingsley flatly.

“Ah, I see. We’re back to the fact that you don’t trust me.”

“Did you give the password to anyone?” Kingsley’s annoyance and volume began to rise as his patience lessened.

“Why bother to ask me? You wouldn’t believe what I said anyway,” declared Severus in an equally aggravated tone of voice as he crossed his arms.

They glared at each other in tense silence for the space to several heartbeats, then Kingsley sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as if it hurt.

“Can you just answer the question?” he said in a calmer tone.

“Oh, very well. No. I did not share my password with anyone. I rather enjoyed having one place in the castle where I could go and be alone, at least as alone as one can be in a room full of nosy portraits watching your every move.”

“Will you give the password to me now?”

“Obsequious cretin.”

“I’m not going to stand here and trade insults, Snape. Just give me the damned password!”

Severus smirked and leaned back against the wall. “That is the password, Shacklebolt, but I still say you’re wasting your time searching up there. Even if someone did miraculously find their way inside, the portraits would put up a fuss and one of them, at the very least, would have raised the alarm immediately.”

“Perhaps, but we’ll have to search it anyway.”

Severus shrugged and waved a languid hand toward the door. “Be my guest. I am surprised you didn’t just ask Potter for the password, though. I left a special one for him to use. I thought he might have a need to get back up there.”

“I’m not sure where Harry is at the moment. He was pretty tired after his battle with Voldemort. You say he can get into the tower?”

“He can. I gave the Gargoyle special instructions regarding him. I don’t believe Potter has his own Pensieve. Since he apparently did view the memories I gave him, I can only assume that means he figured out the password, went up to the office and used Albus’s. It’s a shame he didn’t check around for hidden Death Eaters while he was there, isn’t it?”

Kingsley looked annoyed but said nothing in response.

“Once you do get into the Headmaster’s suite, you could access Albus’s Pensieve yourself,” suggested Severus hesitantly.

“What good would that do?” Kingsley’s eyes narrowed.

“I’d be willing to give you my memories of what happened in the library. Then you could see for yourself that I neither killed Irma nor saw who did.”

“Your memories wouldn’t be admissible in a court of law, you know.”

“No, but they might stop you from dragging me into one. Or are you saying you wouldn’t believe me even if you saw for yourself that I’m innocent?”

Kingsley hesitated briefly, then nodded. “All right, Snape. Once I finish mopping up after the battle, we’ll revisit this. If you’re willing to give up your memories, and if they show what you say they will, I’ll take them into account when I’m deciding whether or not to charge you with the crime. Satisfied?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

“Fine. As long as you’re willing to look at the memories, I suppose that’s all I can ask.”

Now that Kingsley had the information he’d come for, Severus expected him to leave, but he made no move toward the door, instead, he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “One more thing. There are three Death Eaters who we believe took part in the battle that we can’t account for. I wonder if you know anything about their status or whereabouts.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I might, but I’m pretty sure we’ve established that you’re unlikely to believe anything I say so why are you bothering to ask?”

“I have to start somewhere, and you’re the logical person to start with. Besides, if your information checks out, that’s a point in favour of believing other things you say.”

After a moment’s consideration, Severus nodded. “All right. Who do you want to know about?”

Kingsley consulted the parchment. “Daniel Grant, Edwin Conneally, and Barnaby Rutledge.”

“All of them are ruthless, but not overly bright. You don’t need to worry about Grant. He’s dead. Bellatrix killed him in a fit of pique shortly before the battle began. What happened to her anyway? Do you know? That woman is thoroughly deranged. The Dark Lord never had a more fervent or dangerous supporter.”

“Bellatrix is dead. Molly Weasley killed her.”

Severus’s eyebrows joined his hairline. “Did she really? Will wonders never cease.”

“Can we get on with this, please?”

“As you wish... You’ll find Grant’s body, if you’re interested in recovering it, in the woods behind Hagrid’s hut unless some denizen of the forest has a very strong stomach, that is. I believe you’ll find Rutledge at the Ministry. He’s been trailing our puppet Minister for Magic around as a body guard. I don’t know anything about Conneally’s whereabouts. He was at the battle. I saw him just as things got started, but I haven’t seen him since.”

~oOo~

As Minerva started to leave the library in Flitwick’s care, she noticed a lonely figure standing half hidden in shadow at a corner of the hallway. With a stab of guilt, she recognized the hunched figure as Argus Filch. The man stood quietly, holding his cat in his arms and stared fixedly at the door to the library. She’d intended to head straight down to the mortuary, but this was something she needed to take care of first.

Changing direction, she headed toward the castle caretaker. As Deputy Headmistress of the school, watching out for the faculty and staff was every bit as much her responsibility as watching over the students. She knew, or at least believed, that Argus and Irma were close. Whether they were any more than good friends, she wasn’t privileged to know, but she knew that he spent more time with the librarian than with anyone else in the castle. That had to mean something.

As she drew closer to Filch, she mentally chastised herself for not seeking him out much sooner. The man deserved to hear what happened from her rather than through whatever rumour mill still functioned in the school. True, she had been a bit busy and hadn’t been sure that he was still around, but she should have found the time to check.

Filch had helped with the evacuation of the students, although he hadn’t participated in any of the fighting as far as she knew, not that she’d expected him to. The man was a squib. He wouldn’t stand a chance in a battle with witches and wizards armed with magic. What was he supposed to do? Throw rocks? No, his only sensible course of action was to find somewhere to keep out of sight until the dust settled, and if he chose to do just that, who could blame him?

If she was honest, Minerva had to admit that she’d never really liked the dour and sharp-tongued Filch, and she’d been increasingly uncertain just where his loyalties lay after he spent so much time ingratiating himself with Dolores Umbridge. As time went on, however, it became very clear that Umbridge was only using Filch for her own purposes, just as everyone else always had. A squib like Filch wouldn’t have had any sort of life under the rule of Voldemort, and the caretaker, despite his bitter grudges and his jealous anger, had to know that.

Besides, Hogwarts was Filch’s home, if he left it, where would he go? And Irma? Was she the only true friend he had in the castle other than the cat he held in his arms? Suddenly, Minerva fervently hoped not.

As she came up beside the man, she noticed that tears were flowing unheeded down his cheeks, and putting all other feelings aside, she focused on the sympathy she felt for him.

“Argus?” she addressed him softly.

He seemed reluctant to take his eyes off the library door, but finally he turned his head and stared rather vacantly at her. “Is it true?” he asked in a gruff tone. “Did someone kill Ir… Madam Pince?”

She nodded. “Yes, Argus, it’s true. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure it didn’t happen during the fighting? She wasn’t attacked by Death Eaters, was she?” Something of the distress he felt seeped into his voice, and Mrs Norris stirred in his embrace, purring loudly and rubbing her head comfortingly against his arm. Absently he began to stroke her fur and the action seemed to calm them both.

“We aren’t sure yet who attacked her. Headmaster Snape was found kneeling beside her body. There was very little time between hearing her scream and discovering her dead, so the current assumption is that Severus killed her.”

She waited to see what he’d say to this.

After a moment of silence, Filch shook his head firmly. “No. No, the Headmaster wouldn’t have killed Irma. They always got on fine, and he knew she was no match for him. If she confronted him, he could have just disarmed her or knocked her out or something. He wouldn’t need to kill her. I don’t believe that. She must have run into one of those Death Eaters that were all over the castle. You need to make them try harder to find the real killer instead of just taking the easy way out by pinning it on Headmaster Snape.”

Minerva wondered what Severus would think of Filch’s staunch belief in his innocence.

“I’ll do my best, Argus. For what it’s worth, I don’t think Severus did it, either.”