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We say he should have known his action would have consequences.

and we say that what he did to her could not be separated from the way that he looked at her, and what he felt was right to do to her,

and what they do to us, we say, shapes how they see us.

That once the trees are cut down, the water will wash the mountain away and the river be heavy with mud, and there will be a flood.

And we say that what he did to her he did to all of us. And that one act cannot be separated from another. And had he seen more clearly, we say, he might have predicted his own death.

How if the trees grew on the hillside there would be no flood. And you cannot divert this river. We say look how the water flows from this place and returns as rainfall, everything returns, we say, and one thing follows another,

there are limits, we say, on what can be done and everything moves.

We are all a part of this motion, we say, and the way of the river is sacred,

and this grove of trees is sacred,

and we ourselves, we tell you, are sacred.

Susan Griffin, Woman and Nature: The Roaring inside Her.

From the section Consequences (What Always Returns)

*

A wolf--a werewolf!--tore into a dark-robed body.

Severus screamed, but his fear felt oddly muted. Shouldn't he be more terrified? And his wand was gone.

The boy scrabbled unavailingly. Where was it? He had to try at least--

Then the animal moved a little so Severus could see the still form's face.

It was his own.

Severus recoiled.  The motion made "him" bob towards the ceiling. He felt chilled and distant. Which made sense: had he still been alive, he would have been sweating, sick with horror, and shaking with rage. But the body that could feel those things was being ripped open on the floor.

Now he could remember screaming, "You'll pay for this, Black!"

Then the jaws had closed on his throat and the world had died in a spray of red.

Black did this.

A trace of anger flushed through the icy blankness. "I'll see that you pay for this, Black," Severus repeated, feeding the anger that was the only warmth in the world.

The monster tore open his abdomen and started worrying at his entrails, growling happily. Severus floated, forcing himself to watch it gorging on his flesh. It. The werewolf. Lupin. This was the Marauders' fault.

His resolve hardened, and he warmed.

He blinked in confusion when a huge black dog galloped into the room and knocked the werewolf away from its meal. The werewolf turned, growling; the dog bristled in return. Then the animals started fighting viciously. The dog was larger but the wolf more determined. They snapped and snarled. The wolf finally mangled the dog's left leg badly enough that it backed off, whining. Its whine sounded pleading, desperate; the wolf growled low in return.

The wolf returned to Severus's body, lapping at the coagulating blood, eying the dog and growling. The monster's paws rested on its prey in an unmistakably proprietary manner.

The dog whimpered and turned tail, limping away down the tunnel. Severus by this time was curious as hell==that thing hadn't behaved like a natural dog. He floated along behind it, far enough back not to be obvious. With no wand he could do little conventional magic, and he hadn't yet learned his capacities as a ghost. He tried to pull his mind together.

He thought, What can ghosts do? Be visible or not at will--but I've never bothered to learn if there are spells to force visibility. I'd better not assume there aren't. Ghosts can pass through material barriers, but they have correspondingly little to no ability to move material objects. And there are immaterial barriers they cannot pass--oh, shit, what if the Shrieking Shack is warded that way and I'm stuck here?"

Fear felt cold still.

By now the limping dog had reached the entry hole down which Severus, living, had crawled an eternity ago. The dog paused and gave a single bark. Severus heard a rustle and a thud, and then silence. The dog dragged itself out; the whomping willow didn't attack. Severus's eyes narrowed, considering that fact. Then the ghost concentrated on trying to make himself invisible in the dim moonlight filtering through the tree. When he thought that he might have been successful, he cautiously moved out. There was no barrier to hold him, and no one gave alarm; Severus relaxed a bit and looked about.

An ashen-faced Potter was using his wand to heal Black's left arm. Black was leaning against him, sobbing, "I couldn't get him to stop eating! He's never disobeyed me before... He wouldn't stop!" Pettigrew was hovering ineffectually in the background, looking sick.

Had he had muscles, Severus would have stiffened then in triumphant comprehension. He thought, "Black is an Animagus, then. Who would have guessed that that lazy, self-satisfied prick actually had so much power and self-discipline? And by their lack of terror over that wound, Animagi are immune to werewolf bites. How'd they find that out? It's not in any book I've ever read. But if that's how they've been doing it then I can prove they've been endangering others before this. An unregistered Animagus--no, Animagi! Those stupid nicknames. And using their powers to let loose a werewolf, repeatedly, in an inhabited area. Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, for Merlin's sake! Even without my murder, letting loose a Class-XXXXX creature in a population centre carries a ten-year sentence..."

Severus started calculating the charges the Wizengamot could bring, silver eyes glowing. He could destroy them all!  Lupin killed, the others sentenced to Azkaban, which given the Dementors' propensities might be far worse.

Triumph and hatred flowed through him; he felt almost warm.

He was brought back to a colder reality by Potter's voice saying urgently, "We have to tell Dumbledore!"

"What?" gasped Pettigrew. "Have you gone loony, Prongs? We have to hide it somehow!"

"We can't," Potter answered.  "But Dumbledore can. And he will. He won't want it getting out about Moony. He'd lose the Headmastership over letting Moony in, now a student's been killed. He'll punish us, sure, but invisibly; he can't risk it getting out, ever, what really happened. We can't hide this one; we have to go to him. Let's check the map."

*

The beast struggled and snapped in its magical bonds. Severus felt a certain detached satisfaction that he'd been right: Incarceous would have worked if he'd only gotten it off fast enough. Dumbledore leaned over the half-eaten body, looking ancient and grim. Black retched in a corner and said pleadingly, "Headmaster, you have to believe me. I really just thought he'd be scared and run back. I didn't mean for him to be killed."

"Thank you, Mr. Black. Your intentions are now immaterial," the headmaster responded. "You may leave. Wait outside the willow with your fellows, please." When Black had left, Dumbledore levitated the bound werewolf into the next room. Then he returned to the room holding the corpse and knelt, his purple robes trailing disregarded in the gore. He sighed and touched the whitish-tan of an exposed cheekbone.

"Severus?" he called. "Severus Snape?"

Severus retreated to the hallway where he could hear through the open door but be physically hidden by the walls. Nor was his caution misplaced; Dumbledore's next sudden spell turned him briefly visible. He retreated a little further back and made himself invisible again.

Dumbledore was singing now, or chanting, words that Severus didn't recognize with Severus's name threaded through them. The headmaster's voice was gentle, grandfatherly, caring; Severus felt himself pulled to come to him, to trust him, to give him his vengeance to complete.

Severus gave in to his longing and drifted back through the wall. He halted in shock. Dumbledore's wand, dipped in Severus's blood, traced patterns of compulsion in the air. Severus recognized a rune, another. The chant grew louder.

Severus shuddered and marshaled his Occlumency skills, closing his mind as hard as he could. The longing lessened and Severus fled through the exterior wall. The terrible chant pulled him, but he could resist, barely.

Finally the chant stopped. Dumbledore said ruminatively, "How odd. I should have thought the boy the type, under these circumstances and given that warning. Poor boy. Severus Snape: peace to you beyond the Veil, then, and forgive me for what I must do."

Severus peered through a crack in the window's shutter and recoiled as a ward suddenly flashed into existence. Silver eyes narrowing, he explored it cautiously. The walls, ceiling and floor of the room in which his corpse lay were now impenetrable to him. Peering through the shutters again, Severus saw that his body had been Transfigured. It was now apparently intact, but the face was blue, contorted horribly, with a swollen tongue forced out between gaping lips.

"Potter was right," Severus whispered, his eyes wide. "You're going to cover it up. They'll get off scot-free, if you have your way." He hadn't believed it until then, not really. How could the headmaster be willing to cover up his own student's murder? His own student?!

Severus was cold, so cold--and then he warmed. Nonexistent lips pulled back from nonexistent teeth in a terrible smile.

"I'll see that you pay too. And I know how."

*

Phoenixes could Apparate (or whatever it was they did instead) through any wards or barriers known, but Fawkes liked to fly. So Dumbledore habitually kept a window open for his convenience. He had sent his familiar off to reconnoiter; Fawkes flew in and landed on his master's shoulder. Dumbledore turned his head and checked: nothing else seemed amiss this night (what other trouble could rate?), and no one else woke. Dumbledore stroked the bird's breast for comfort, and then regarded his two miscreants. Pettigrew he had sent off to the dormitory, Tongue-Tied and accompanied by two simulacra.

"So," he said neutrally. "I should prefer to believe, the evidence of this night notwithstanding, that you both, in your hearts, are on the side of the Light."

James Potter said earnestly, "Sirius... he doesn't always think things through, sir, I knew how it was when he told me.  He thought Snivelly would only be scared, not hurt. Not killed! But I knew the risk was too great, so I went in after Snivellus.  But I was too late. I could hear him and Moony--"  His voice cracked and died. "I couldn't hope to handle Moony, so I went back and sent Sirius. But you have to believe us, sir, not that we liked Snivellus, but we wouldn't have wished him dead!"

Dumbledore regarded him piercingly. "Hmm. I do believe you, or my actions must be different. You're all three Animagi? An unusual accomplishment, at your age. I am going to bind you to silence, as I did your friend. And I shall collect your memories to show your parents;  their potential cooperation must be secured."

Both boys blanched.

"Your victim's body will be found in about a week, having died in another manner. You, of course, will be surprised at his disappearance tomorrow morning, vociferous in your suspicions that he must be up to nothing good, and then subdued when the body is found. Nil nisi and so forth; I think you may reasonably be slightly ashamed, after the fact, of what your enmity had led you to say. Given your previous adeptness at deceiving me, I trust this should not be beyond your capacity?"

The boys nodded in tandem.

Then Potter said hesitantly, "But sir, wouldn't it be easier if Snivelly just disappeared?"

"Leaving an unsolved mystery to attract attention? No, there must be no unanswered questions, no mystery at all--and nothing to tie the death to the moon. I shall, next week, conduct the first investigation into the death scene; there should be no questions about that. The Ministry's investigation is likely to be cursory. Should undue attention be paid, the, ah, disparate factions represented by your two families will secure any cooperation I might require without my own interests appearing.

"You will not contact your families directly, nor will they contact you until this potential scandal has been laid to rest. You will never go near the Shack again. You will leave me your memories for your parents; you will act, tomorrow, as though you spent this night restfully in bed. Here is a potion to secure that--three doses, give Pettigrew one. I should imagine he needs it too.:"

*

Dumbledore bowed his head after the children left. He collected himself, and tapped the sphere he had picked up after his agent had alerted him.

An insectile woman stated hoarsely, "A dark spirit of vengeance shall be born of the moon's curse. It shall destroy the Dark Lord's enemy, and its own joy, and its ally."

*

Dumbledore vanished the image.

He stroked Fawkes's feathers for comfort, sighing. Could I have done otherwise? Would I, had the warning not been so clear? Could I have given that poor boy justice, and risked my own standing when the criticisms came?

But no, even could I have risked myself, who else will stand against Lord Voldemort?   Those two boys are the most promising potential recruits to my Order I've seen in years. They're not bad, not willfully so, and now they owe me a life debt. I can use that. I can use them. And I must use everything possible in this struggle; I owe it to the innocent. That boy, whatever else he was, wasn't an innocent. He was there of malice. I have to protect the innocent.

Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain. The phoenix trilled, offering what comfort it could.

The headmaster's office at Hogwarts was warded against uninvited intruders, including ghosts. But the window had been open all night. Someone floating outside, invisible, could hear and make plans accordingly.

*

Severus wasn't surprised that Avery's house was warded. What was the equivalent of a polite knock? After a while, he settled on making himself as bright as possible, floating outside the main bedroom, and calling urgently, increasingly loudly, "Mr. Avery, sir! Mr. Avery!"

When a drowsy and annoyed face finally appeared in the pre-dawn gloom, Severus said, "My deepest apologies for disturbing you at such an hour, but I think we may have a mutual interest in assuring that a crime committed at your son's school should not be covered up."

He removed his scarf dramatically, baring his torn throat. Shock replaced the sleepy irritation in Mr. Avery's face.

Severus continued, "I thought that an enemy of the headmaster's might perhaps be able to make use of such a scandal. Particularly as the headmaster is ignorant of the fact that I am, ah, free to testify. He took steps to prevent that, you see, and he doesn't know they failed."

Mr. Avery's face went blank for a moment of furious thought. Then he gave the ghost a rapacious grin. "Want revenge, do you, boy? I'd feel the same in your place. My boy will be sorry to have lost you as a companion; he always said you had a good brain and a quick wand. Let me alter the wards to let you in; that'll take a bit, usually only family ghosts are allowed. I'll call you when it's done, and we can confer."

*

"He doesn't especially like the dead, boy," Mr. Avery said. "Best you follow my lead."

It was rather odd meeting You-Know-Who under such circumstances. Mr. Avery knelt in his own hallway and kissed Lord Voldemort's hem. Still kneeling, he gestured at the ghost. "My lord, this boy, Severus Snape, had been a friend of my son's, valued for his quick wand, wits, and tongue. We had had great hopes of introducing him to you eventually in a more conventional manner, but a werewolf the headmaster was keeping as a pet has intervened."

Voldemort kept his eyes on his follower, not looking at the ghost. His voice was cold and high. "To Dumbledore's possible detriment, I believe you have suggested?"

After a moment, Severus took his cue from Mr. Avery's unexpected obsequiousness and knelt too, lowering his face. This was not what his friends had formerly led him to expect, but only You-Know-Who and his followers might have the power to take down Dumbledore. If kneeling would forward his cause, kneel Severus would. At least for a time. He glanced up through swinging silver hair; the Dark Lord still wasn't looking at him. He lifted his brows slightly and stayed silent.

Mr. Avery spoke again, "It was the boy's own thought, actually. I told you he was sharp. When he realized Dumbledore was going to hush up his murder, he thought to come to us. Shall we come into the library and make ourselves comfortable, my lord?"

The two living men (if Voldemort was still fully human, which seemed a bit doubtful by his appearance) sat over tea and a good fire. The ghost knelt a little out of Voldemort's direct line of sight and let Mr. Avery tell the story.

When he was done, Voldemort cogitated for a time and asked, "Dumbledore specifically invoked the boy's spirit, then? And then warded the death scene against ghostly penetration? That latter can easily be verified."

Severus nodded silently. Mr. Avery confirmed, "Yes, my lord, that seems to be the case. I believe I'm correct in believing that while a ghost normally manifests immediately, cases have been known of the spirit appearing later?"

"Indeed, but always within seven days of the death. So we can infer that Dumbledore might plan to 'discover' the corpse in a little over a week's time: leaving the ghost, if it should have manifested, trapped within that room. Where he could, at his leisure, bind it to eternal silence and invisibility. So if that room is now secured, Dumbledore knows that there is no possibility of a witness contradicting whatever story he chooses to put out."

Severus, looking up unobtrusively through his hair, saw the Dark Lord's smile for the first time. He shuddered a little, involuntarily.

Voldemort mused, "Invoking and constraining ghosts... necromancy, technically, and not, ah, terribly well-received even when done with prior Ministry approval. Which one feels, somehow, is not the case here. Tsk, tsk, Dumbledore. There's a good old saying: give him a large enough cauldron to boil himself in. I think that's where we start. Let Dumbledore have his cauldron, and let him add the Ministry to his brew. And the Potters... very good. Very good. The Blacks... we'll need to handle their involvement carefully. We don't want scandal splashed on all of Sirius Black's extensive family. But his estrangement from them is well-known.

"Well done, Avery. Keep the ghost hidden; Dumbledore must not get wind of its existence and its escape."

He paused, looking at his wand, which he had drawn and was turning thoughtfully in his hand. "Ah. Avery, the dead boy had perhaps been an Occlumens?"

Mr. Avery looked blankly at Severus, who nodded. "Yes, my lord," Mr. Avery answered.

The Dark Lord nodded in satisfaction. "Then that is how the spirit resisted the headmaster's invocation. Dumbledore will undoubtedly try again to invoke it, most likely on the third night and the seventh. The ghost will need to prepare to resist the further calls. And to assist in its efforts...."  He smiled again and raised his wand, drawing patterns in the air.

Nonverbally!   Severus thought admiringly. But the twisting shapes made him almost glad to have no body; his gut would have been churning at the cold wrongness of them.

The Dark Lord closed his eyes and tilted his head back and forth as though assessing his spell's results by its scent. Then he opened his eyes and for the first time addressed the silvery shape. "Should you try to cross these wards, you will dissipate. Motivation to resist strongly, when the headmaster bawls again for his wandering sheep. I should prefer to conserve you; your direct testimony would be most helpful when the time comes. But I can take Dumbledore down using only Lupin's diseased wanderings about the school grounds and the village, now that I know of them. It would just take a little longer. You need me; I don't need you. So mind you resist when Dumbledore invokes you. And mind you obey. Me."

Severus pushed down his fury and fear and nodded submissively. "Yes."

He forced himself to continue, "My lord."

His lank hair swung forward again across his face. Lord Voldemort could not see how his silver eyes burned.

*

The article in the Prophet was disappointingly modest.

Hogwarts Student Missing

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore reports that 5th year student Severus Snape disappeared yesterday morning. Dumbledore states, "The boy is a bit of a loner, often off on solitary projects, so his housemates didn't worry that he'd skipped breakfast. When he wasn't there for his OWLS Arithmancy class, however, they raised the alarm. The Ministry reports his wand was last used shortly after dawn, which by now must lead to the gravest concerns for his safety. I have parties searching the Forbidden Forest, which unfortunately the students will invade, and I have asked the Hogsmeade villagers to watch for any signs of the boy.

"The Ministry is monitoring Snape's wand and the Underage Trace for activity. Anyone with any information on the missing student should contact the headmaster or the Ministry immediately."

The picture was highly unflattering, but then they all were. It had been cropped from a picture taken at Sluggy's last Christmas party. Severus had been caught trying unsuccessfully to duck behind a knot of other Slytherins; he was scowling fiercely and hiding behind his lank hair.

*

The calling was even more urgent this time; Severus could barely keep his mind closed to it. It was odd that the physical distance from Hogsmeade didn't diminish it.

He wept, afterward, from the depth of his longing to give in and answer it. His silver tears left no moisture on Avery's floor.

*

Hogsmeade Child Discovers Body of Missing Student

Nine-year-old Margaret Chandler was given reason to regret taking her friends' dare to touch the wall of the Shrieking Shack yesterday afternoon. Her unauthorized excursion had Miss Chandler inadvertently discovering a body. Miss Chandler kindly granted our correspondent an exclusive interview after she was treated for shock at St. Mungo's.

"It was the smell. It smelled just awful when I got close. So I looked through a crack and I saw them. This big huge spider and a, a body.  It was black and wet. They were both covered in flies."

Miss Chandler declined to elaborate further on the condition of the corpse.

Headmaster Dumbledore confirmed that the body is that of missing Hogwarts student Severus Snape, aged 16, who had disappeared before breakfast eight days ago. Dumbledore stated, "When Miss Chandler's family notified me that a body had been seen, I went immediately to investigate. I found the wards over one of the windows dismantled, and a dead immature Acromantula next to the boy's body. Apparently Mr. Snape had decided, most unwisely, to explore the mysteries of the Shrieking Shack. He must have been bitten before he defeated the Acromantula and succumbed to its venom after killing it. He was a very talented student, very, but not always given to respecting the rules set out for his safety. I grieve that his penchant for unauthorized explorations should have brought him to this end."

Investigators from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement confirm that the death took place where the body was found and that the last two spells cast by the boy's wand were a slicing hex and a very complex ward-breaking charm.

"It doesn't surprise me that Severus would know such advanced spells," said close friend Meleager Mulciber. "He was brilliant, really; not just the best in our year, but ahead of most of the year ahead. Fourth year he set up a business tutoring older kids for their OWLs! He was from a poor family, you know, and half-Muggle, which made people like that Gryffindor Black hate him, but he was determined to better himself. He even invented a lot of his own spells. I just wish he'd taken me and Avery along with him that morning; if he'd had someone to watch his back it wouldn't have happened. And that must have been one fast spider, to get a bite in on Snape. It's so hard to believe something like that could happen to him."

Horace Slughorn, Head of Slytherin, confirmed, "It's a great loss to our house. Severus was one of the best potions-brewers I've ever taught; he had actually worked out some improvements to standard recipes. I understand his work in Defense against the Dark Arts was equally brilliant, and his Arithmancy, Charms, and Herbology nearly so. I had expected a great future for him; I am inexpressibly shocked and saddened by this tragedy."

Snape's is the first student death at Hogwarts in over three decades. As it took place out of bounds and the student was trespassing on a known dangerous site, the Ministry does not expect to convene a formal inquiry upon Headmaster Dumbledore.


The picture, of the Shrieking Shack, was captioned "Most haunted site in Britain claims a new victim!"

Severus snorted. "What I chiefly admire about Dumbledore's statement is that there isn't a single actual lie in there. I'm sure that he found exactly what he said, and all the stuff that's provably false is couched as conditionals. He could repeat that word for word under Veritaserum without needing an antidote first--and probably will. Who'd you have to bribe at the Daily Prophet not to cut Mulciber's statement? I very much doubt that Dumbledore liked the attention drawn to Black or that expression of disbelief at the end."

He grinned up at Mr. Avery. Mr. Avery grinned back. "No bribes needed, Severus, just a gentle suggestion."

Severus's eyes narrowed. "Is the Ministry sufficiently implicated in the cover-up by now?"

"A little more would be better. We plan to apply a very little pressure, so that Dumbledore's faction would have to apply counter-pressure."

Severus grinned again. "Why not involve some unimpeachably honest people? Who have no axe to grind, just a sincere desire that the truth should out and justice prevail?"

Avery raised his brows. "You, ah, know some people like that, boy?"

Severus smirked. "Hufflepuffs. It's a little unfortunate for Dumbledore that he chose to have me die by Acromantula venom. One sees why, of course; he could easily lay hands on a spider in a hurry, and he could set up a convincing scenario of how I'd almost escaped. It would have been hard to get my anyone who knew me to credit that I'd been completely incompetent. But as Mulciber said, I've been tutoring for Defense OWLs for two years now.  And when I revised past OWL questions, Acromantulae were frequently mentioned in the Dark Creatures section. Plus everyone knows there's a nest of them in the Forest.  So I covered them thoroughly. Everyone I tutored, I told that you shouldn't try a cutting hex unless the spider's far enough away it can't get at you before it collapses. And half of my students were Hufflepuff. And some of those are well-connected."

*

Most of the Hufflepuffs had planned to stay well away from the edge of Hogsmeade where a now-well-worn path led up to the Shrieking Shack. But after a time, Enoch Bones found himself drifting away from his fellows. He fetched up (to his mild surprise) leaning against a fence by a little-used path into the hills. A silvery shape became visible against the darkness of the pines.

Enoch had never liked him. The reverse rather, and worse the better he knew him. Sneering, superior, stand-offish--and right. Right almost always, it was his most disagreeable trait.

And Enoch owed him.

As though it had heard him, the silver ghost smiled and said, "You owe me. And I trust you, Bones; I know you care about fair play. Without respect of persons."

The ghost played with the ends of its scarf, which managed to hint at green amidst the silver. It repeated, "You owe me, Bones. You'd never have passed your Defense OWL without my tutoring. Yes?"

Everyone who'd stuck with Snape despite the insults had passed last year. Enoch was no exception. This year, OWLs year for him now, Snape had turned people down for lack of time, even after doubling his rates.

"I owe you," Enoch agreed hoarsely. "What's going on, Snape?"

Snape undid his scarf. "I tutored you, Bones. Does this look like the work of an Acromantula?"

Enoch fell back, gasping. Snape's throat had been torn out.

After a moment, words marched, orderly, through his brain, in Snape's cool voice. Dark creatures: ways to avoid; ways to fight; symptoms; treatment; death.  And that ghosts could hide but not falsify their death-wounds.

Snape smiled at him. "Good. You were paying attention after all; I wasn't always sure. So what killed me, Bones?"

Enoch looked at the bloody ghost and made himself go cold. He would do his tutor proud, he would, however long it took him to compose himself. After a time he told Snape, "Werewolf. If it really did happen in the Shrieking Shack. That's the only thing that's small enough to fit in there, could make those wounds, and that you couldn't take out before it got you. A lot of spells have no effect at all on them. You told me--" his voice broke and resumed, "--that only purely physical spells would have an effect. And that then it's often reduced. You went up against a werewolf. Alone. Merlin, Severus, what happened?"

"Got it in one, Enoch. Good job," Snape said, and Enoch felt an absurd flash of pleasure. "What happened was murder, Enoch: someone sent me in there, knowing exactly what waited. And then someone else fudged my time of death and transfigured my corpse so it would look like I was killed by an Acromantula sting, to hide the crime. Will you help me, Enoch? I want justice. Does a Hufflepuff have to like me to help me get justice for my murder?"

*

Editor, the Prophet:

I am writing to demand a further investigation into the recent death of Hogwarts student Severus Snape. I am just finishing my 6th year at Hogwarts: last year I engaged Snape's services as tutor for my OWLs. He was only a 4th year then but he already knew far more than I. He coached a number of us, nine, in both Defense and Potions, and no one who stuck with him failed.

In particular, Snape coached us on how to avoid, fight, or kill Dark creatures likely to appear either on the OWLs exam or on Hogwarts grounds. Acromantulae live in the Forbidden Forest, so Snape covered them in depth. He taught me which spells are best to use to immobilize or kill an Acromantula. A cutting hex is not the first choice unless the spider's quite far away, precisely because it won't immobilize the creature fast enough.

Yet the person who taught me that died after allegedly using the hex that he taught me wouldn't work.

One might argue that theoretical knowledge doesn't always transfer to quick enough wand-work, or that Snape might have panicked, but I've also seen him in action. Snape was generally unpopular (due to his sneering attitude--I disliked him profoundly myself), so the school bullies who were smart enough to choose unpopular victims often picked him. I myself have stood by and laughed while Snape was hexed by two or four other students simultaneously. Snape was fast enough and powerful enough to give as good as he got against such odds, and he was given ample practice at keeping his head when suddenly attacked.

I didn't like Severus Snape, despite his services to me. But he deserves justice, as anyone does.

Open a true investigation. Check his wand's use again. What other spells did Snape cast that morning, or the night before, and why?

I can tell anyone who asks what spells Snape taught me should be used against an Acromantula attacking in close quarters. So can his eight other students.  Were those the spells Snape cast, dying? Or was something else going on?

Sincerely,

Enoch Bones

Copies to:
Amelia Bones, DMLE
Edgar & Susannah Bones
Geoffrey Bones, Wizengamot
Richenda Bones Crouch, DRMC
Anthony Potter, Wizengamot
Lucinda Bones Prewitt, Wizengamot
Elizabeth Rookwood

*

Severus asked Mr. Avery, "Are we supposed to be content with merely discrediting Dumbledore, or do we want to take him out? I personally would like him in Azkaban at the least, but I see a problem with that."

Mr. Avery propped his chin on his hand. "Go on, Severus."

"His phoenix. They can go anywhere, they say, and it's unshakably loyal to him. If Dumbledore were taken, confined, even in Azkaban, the phoenix could simply bring him out again. So the phoenix would have to be immobilized or destroyed first. Is there any way to do either of those things?"

"Hmm. I'll mention your concern to the Dark Lord, Severus. It's an interesting question, and I don't have an answer to it."

*

The Dark Lord turned his wand over and over in his hands, caressing it. "Yes," he hissed. "A valid point, Avery. How much, indeed, of Dumbledore's purported power and knowledge comes simply from the allegiance of that brute bird, when all is said? Not only can a phoenix go anywhere, it can hear anywhere; and they understand human speech well enough to respond to mentions of matters that interest them... though they're not intelligent enough always to understand what should interest them. So destroying his phoenix might well, as it were, both cripple and deafen the old fool."

The Dark Lord smiled, spidery fingers sliding over his wand again.

"As it chances, immortal creatures have long been an interest of mine; I have had occasion to research their various strengths and, ah, weaknesses. Your suggestion might well have merit. If nothing else, the sentimental fool would grieve more for the loss of that bird than for most people."

*

Dear Mum and Dad,

A further tragedy has taken place--no, no, not another student death, thank Merlin! Though you'd think from the headmaster's reaction it was worse. It was his phoenix--we hardly ever saw it, but of course he's had it forever. It was killed in an accident yesterday. I didn't even know they could be killed, did you? That certainly wasn't something I was ever taught about.

You remember that I told you that Professor Flitwick has been running a Dueling Club this year? Most of the headmaster's little protégés attend regularly, and so do a lot of the Slytherins. I didn't usually myself, but since Snape's death a lot of us have been thinking maybe we should get in more practice. So there were a whole bunch of extra people there, and it was hard for Professor Flitwick to supervise really closely.

I guess that's how things got out of hand so fast. First thing I knew was, two seventh years had gotten into a screaming match--one of the headmaster's Gryffindor pets and a Slytherin--and the Slytherin started insulting the headmaster! Well, you know that house pretty much has no use for Dumbledore.  Was the division so bad in your day? You never warned me about it. Anyhow, so the Slytherin, Rosier, was shouting insults, while Podmore was yelling that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard who ever lived, and of course they were throwing hexes at each other.

Dumbledore's phoenix was attracted by the ruckus, I guess, and swooped in over Podmore. And then Rosier threw a jinx that hit the phoenix instead, and it screeched in pain. Of course when a phoenix is hurt it regenerates by bursting into flame. So it did.  But then--it didn't come back.

Everyone had been screaming and trying to get away from the phoenix fire, and then all of a sudden there was nothing there but ashes. And then Professor Flitwick called the headmaster, and the headmaster held Rosier at wandpoint and demanded to know what he'd done. I'd never seen--you know, Professor Dumbledore always acts sort of dotty and harmless, but just then he was terrifying. Rosier was white and shaking and saying it was just a new version of Conjunctivitis, it shouldn't have done any serious damage, it just destroyed the tear ducts to temporarily blind your enemy.

If I'd had Dumbledore holding me at wandpoint like that, I'd have been shaking too.

And then Dumbledore sort of threw him aside and went to the pile of ashes and told us all to get out. Believe me, we got.

The headmaster wasn't at any meals today, so I think he's taking it pretty hard. Well, I know how I'd feel if Shalmanezer were killed, and I've only had him for ten years, not a hundred. I had Care of Magical Creatures today, and Professor Beagle says she thinks what must happened is that the phoenix's ability to resurrect itself must be related to how its tears can heal any injury, however lethal. She says she thinks that when it bursts into flame, it may be the vaporized tears that allow it to regenerate. So no tear ducts, no tears, no regeneration.

On the subject of tragedies: is Aunt Amelia having any luck pushing for an inquiry? It seems odd that the Ministry hasn't even sent any Aurors to look at the Shrieking Shack yet. I don't really want to be haunted--least of all by him. And I owe him, I've told you that. But he's fair enough in his way; he's left me alone so far. He hasn't even asked me for an update. But when he does, I want to have something to tell him, so let me know, please. I do owe him. And someone owes him justice.

Well, hopefully that's all our excitement for the year. I'm sick to death of it all--nearly literally--no, not literally, don't worry. But I'm glad I'll be home soon.

Your dutiful son,

Enoch


*

The Daily Prophet headlines screamed:

Student Killed by Dumbledore's Pet Werewolf!
Murder Cover-up by Headmaster, Ministry!
Ghost Comes Forward with True Story!

Read our exclusive interview with murdered sixteen-year-old Severus Snape. "I only want justice against my murderers," the wronged ghost says. "And against those who tried to shield them from paying for their crime."

Sidebar: Self-styled 'Marauders' Regularly Released Werewolf on Unsuspecting Hogsmeade: Werewolf Admits under Veritaserum to Several Previous "Close Calls" among Villagers!

Hogsmeade bakery owner Darla Crumble well remembers the many visits of seemingly mild-mannered Remus Lupin and his more rambunctious friends Potter and Black. She remembers even more vividly her close call of three months ago. She had never connected the two.

"There hasn't been a case of lycanthropy anywhere near Hogsmeade in over a hundred years," the shaken witch testified, "so I didn't think twice about walking home from visiting my daughter the night of the full moon. I wanted to stop and do a little gathering, anyhow; you know some herbs are better gathered by moonlight, and it was a beautiful night for it. Even when I heard the howling coming closer, I didn't really believe what it was. I knew there were no werewolves anywhere near Hogsmeade or the school, not with Professor Dumbledore to protect us. I'd never have dreamed Dumbledore would bring them in himself!" (Continued p 13)


Inside: Prominent Families and Top Ministry Aide Implicated in Hogwarts Murder Cover-up.

Dumbledore Eludes Six-Auror Arrest Team, Remains at Large

Was Dumbledore Recruiting Other Werewolves for his Private Army?

Headmaster a Necromancer! Dumbledore Warded Death Scene, Tried to Bind Victim's Ghost

Who was Dumbledore Grooming his Pet Werewolf to Attack?

Hogwarts Board of Governors Denies Allowing Werewolf's Attendance: Other Examples of Dumbledore's Disregarding Governors

Marauders used Animagery to Commit their Crimes--Should the Animagus Transformation be Reclassified as a Dark Art? Pros and Cons

Hogwarts Staff Admits to Collusion in Werewolf Admission

Dumbledore's Sympathy for Non-Human Criminals: Part-Goblin Professor, Half-Giant Monster-Breeder also Allowed Access to Hogwarts Students!

Ghost Expert Hector Plasm: Unavenged Murder Most Common Cause of Spirit Return

Exclusive on Marauder Gang's Reign of Terror at Hogwarts:

"We were all afraid of them," testifies lovely Dorothea Nott. "The headmaster let them get away with attacking other students with just a slap on the wrist. But I never realized he'd let them literally get away with murder!"


*

"You're not welcome here, Dumbledore. I won't turn you in, but that's as far as I'll go. It could just as easily have been Sturgis as that poor Slytherin boy."

*

Second page, the Prophet:

Two More Arrests Made in Werewolf Murder Cover-up

The Ministry of Magic reports that James Potter, Senior, and his wife Charis have joined their son James Junior "the Marauder" in Azkaban. The Potters and Arcturus Black are charged with assisting Dumbledore in covering up their scions' murder of Severus Snape. Aurors have to date been unable to break the wards on the Black family home to arrest Arcturus Black. Black's solicitors contend that, far from assisting Sirius, the Black family started official proceedings to disinherit him as soon as they learned of his crime. Documents to this effect have been submitted.

Authorities have ascertained that Mrs. Mavis Pettigrew, widowed mother of the third "Marauder" involved in loosing the werewolf, and Julius and Liriope Lupin, the werewolf's parents, were not involved in the cover-up.

Black, Potter, and Pettigrew continue to insist that Severus Snape's death was an accident and that they had kept the werewolf under control when they released him.

The murdered boy responds, "Only three wizards in history have survived an encounter with a werewolf in an enclosed space; I had not had the impression that the Marauders' opinion of me was so high as to expect me to be the fourth. As to their claim that they could restrain the werewolf, the monster itself testified before its execution that it had almost murdered before on the Marauders' excursions. Moreover, I can personally attest to Black's inability to control the beast--he failed miserably in his attempt to prevent it from gorging on my corpse. Pleasant viewing, that. I thoroughly enjoyed it."

In related news, the Hogwarts staff remains in custody while the Ministry considers their cases. Interrogations under Veritaserum indicate that while the teachers did know Lupin's condition and willfully conspired to conceal it from the Hogwarts Board of Governors and the Wizarding public, they thought that Dumbledore was keeping the beast restrained at the full moon. None, apparently, knew about Snape's murder and Dumbledore's cover up. Authorities are debating what charges to bring.

Poppy Pomfrey, Matron of Hogwarts Hospital Wing, will likely be charged separately. She was the only staff member who knew in detail Dumbledore's inadequate arrangements for securing the werewolf.

Dumbledore himself remains at large; he is considered highly dangerous after his escape from a six-Auror arrest team. Anyone who spots him should Floo authorities; do not attempt to apprehend him.

*

"Of course I don't for a moment believe that nonsense about you grooming a teen werewolf to attack your enemies, Albus. But my great-niece lives in Hogsmeade, and your carelessness in not adequately securing the creature endangered everyone in the village. And letting four children pull the cloak over your nose like that.... Well. I still have the highest respect for your wand-work, but I don't trust your judgment any longer. I can't support you in the Wizengamot."

*

"They interrogated me under Veritaserum to see if I was in on your idiot scheme to let a werewolf wander around unsupervised. I told 'em I wasn't bright enough to do anything that daft. What the bloody hell were you thinking, Albus?" Aberforth demanded.

The stranger's body slumped. "I thought--the precautions should have been sufficient, Aberforth. They were sufficient! I knew Lupin had let his friends in on the secret of the Whomping Willow. and that the boys were using the shack the rest of the month. That seemed harmless enough. How could I have anticipated this? Even if I could imagined that the boys would somehow invent a way to run safely with the wolf, I would have expected Lupin's gratitude to me to have restrained him. He betrayed my trust."

"Teenaged wizards? Restrained? I thought you'd met one or three, these last couple of decades, Headmaster. I've never yet seen a one show sense, much less restraint. Inventiveness, yes, that you should have expected."

The two men brooded in silence, shifting a bit in the chilly cellar air. After a time Aberforth said, "The part I don't understand, Albus. How the bloody hell did you let yourself get drawn into necromancy? I can see you taking on a werewolf, another of your charity projects proving how noble you are, and incidentally leaving the charity case lifelong in your debt. And I can see you thinking that your arrangements were so clever, why bother supervising the werewolf in his change? Leaving a trio of boys to circumvent your cleverness, you none the wiser. And I've met that Black boy; he's been here, just to prove he's tough enough for the Hog's Head. He's the sort thinks nothing happens without his say-so. I could see him sending an enemy off for a scare, him with not a clue that anything worse might well happen. And feeling ill-used when it did, no doubt; Black's probably established to his own satisfaction that that Snape kid died to fucking spite him.

"But you--by Merlin's hairy testicles, Albus, why did you call that boy's ghost and try to bind it? Even though you thought your doings would never leak out, didn't you care what you were trying to do to him?"

The stocky, middle-aged form said painfully. "I had to, Aberforth. I had heard a prophecy--"

Aberforth exploded, "Oh bloody hell, Albus, you were trying to turn a prophecy? Have you no sense at all? No, don't answer that. What was the damn prophecy?"

"A dark spirit of vengeance shall be born of the moon's curse. It shall destroy the Dark Lord's enemy, and its own joy, and its ally."

Aberforth exhaled. "So you thought...."

"That the boy's spirit would try to destroy me, yes. The bare fact I could touch the prophecy globe proved I was the enemy referred to. It wasn't to protect my own reputation, Aberforth. But the Ministry isn't holding against Voldemort, you know that. I'm the only force standing strongly enough against him. I had to try to avert it when I saw the chance."

"In fact, you were working for the greater good again."

The stranger wearing his brother's eyes winced.

After a moment Aberforth relented. "So, what's your plan now? And what do you need from me?"

"I need a wand. And I think my best course at this time may be to surrender."

The old man shouted, "That's dafter than trying to turn a prophecy!"

"I've lost my credibility, Aberforth."

The younger brother snorted. "About ruddy time, too."

"The Ministry is wasting resources hunting me which should be devoted to fighting Death Eaters. I can no longer lead the fight against Voldemort--I've lost Fawkes, I've lost my positions of influence, I've lost the counter group to the Death Eaters that I was forming, I've even lost the mastery.... My wand stopped answering to me when--when the Daily Prophet articles were published. I should have known then what was happening."

"What do you mean, that trophy wand of Grindelwald's stopped answering--oh, no. Albus, you didn't--Grindelwald didn't--he found it? You've been carrying the bloody Deathstick all these years?"

"And I've lost its mastery. I can use it, but the difference is obvious. I had planned--I had thought that if I died undefeated, the power of the wand would be broken, as it would still be bound to one not living."

Aberforth snorted but said nothing.

Albus sighed and continued, "I can't ascertain whether the wand considers my...  reverses to have been the spirit's doing or, or Voldemort's. In the former case, its power should be broken as I had planned; in the latter, the mastery would have transferred to Voldemort. It would respond the same to me in either case. So I dare not risk Voldemort getting it; I'm trying to think how to hide it permanently. You still have the wherewithal to provide me with a substitute, do you not?"

"Do I still do a semi-legal trade in unregistered wands in my back rooms, you mean? Yes, I have 'the wherewithal'," Aberforth said prissily, then reverted to his normal tones. "Can I see the bloody thing, Albus?"

The stocky stranger passed it over. Aberforth turned the wand speculatively in his hands. He grunted, "Looks like a wand to me." Then he threw it away from him on the stone flags and snapped a spell at it. Hungry flames engulfed the wand, which flashed in a fountain of dark sparks. Then the flames started to eat the stone.

Albus snatched the wand from his brother's hand and shouted a containment spell. A circle of silver light flared outside the roaring flames. The wizard held the wand steadily on the circle, murmuring now, and the circle started to contract, squeezing the flames within it. Finally the circle shrank to a point of brilliance, flashed, and went out. The two men stared at the charred hole in the stone floor. There were not even ashes inside, only the heat-wavering of the air to mark how intense the fire had been.

"Good thing we were on stone," Aberforth remarked, breathing unevenly.

His brother answered, "You fool. You could never have controlled Fiendfyre."

His brother looked at him. "But I knew you could. I'd have liked to have broken the damn thing over my knee, but I somehow didn't think that would work. I've solved your main problem for you, anyhow; I've made sure You-Know-Who will never have it. You always complicate things."

After a moment Albus said, "That the wand didn't fight leads me to suspect that I was right, that its power had already been broken."

Aberforth sat back down heavily. "Fine. Right. Now let's get back to why you want to give the fuck up. Without you, we'll probably fall to the Death Eaters within months."

"But you are already effectively without me, by my own actions. If Voldemort's group could have been stopped by a duel, I would have done so already. And my native power is all I have left at this time. I see no way to regain my influence, and in fact I am more likely to drag my allies down. But I'm not planning to give up, exactly, Ab, just to surrender. The real problem here is that my own actions seem to have started fulfilling the prophecy."

His brother said, "Like they always do, when prophecies are fulfilled, you idiot! Thinking you could outsmart it!"

"Thank you, Aberforth, for that insightful analysis. However, my attempt to avert the prophecy seems to have destroyed for the present my effectiveness against Voldemort, but not precisely myself. The prophecy said the spirit would destroy me, then the spirit's joy, and then its ally. Its ally is Voldemort. Allowing the prophecy to be fulfilled in full may now be our best chance of destroying Voldemort. Surely being sent to Azkaban would adequately count as my destruction? And I think we may safely rely upon Voldemort eventually to alienate his newest ally; whatever the boy had counted as his joy, it's unlikely to survive much of the Dark Lord's triumph. Then in due course, perhaps I can escape Azkaban and return to lead the resistance. Once Voldemort has shown his true colors, excitement over my assorted failings should die."

Aberforth pinched the bridge of his long nose. He felt too tired to shout. "That idea ranks right up there with your last couple, Albus."

Not that he'd ever been able to sway his brother. No matter how right he was.

Albus answered only, "I need a wand, Aberforth."

After more futile argument, Aberforth found him one.

*

As the Dementors closed in on him to take him away, Dumbledore turned for the first time to face the chief witness for the prosecution. "I'm sorry, boy. Not only for the past, for the future. When the second part happens, remember the third."

Dumbledore didn't know whether the furious ghost had stayed to listen that night to the Prophecy, but he hoped it had.

Of course, Dumbledore could have chosen otherwise, could have given the boy's shade justice at the time, and none of this, perhaps, would have happened.

The Dementors made him eat that thought as long as he survived. Dumbledore was old, however, and had a lot to regret. He didn't last nearly as long as he had expected.

*


Severus stared at her corpse. It had been worst for the prettier Muggleborns. "I didn't mean this to happen, Lily," he whispered. "Not to you. I never realized he'd do anything like this if he won."

Her shade hadn't stayed to hear him; he hadn't expected her to.

He crouched over her, his hands moving futilely as though to compose her body. But he couldn't touch her flesh.

At least Severus had been dead before his genitals had been torn open; by the blood, she hadn't been. He closed his eyes, rocking in horror.

After a while Severus registered the sounds that he was making and forced himself to stop.

A distant, familiar, grandfatherly voice echoed in his ears. "When the second part happens, remember the third. I'm sorry, boy."

He would never have let her be hurt. Never.

His fault, but the Dark Lord's doing. Severus whispered into the darkness, "I'll see that you pay for this."

*

It took him over a century, but he did.

*


A/N: By the way, canon also fulfills the prophecy.

What they do to us shapes how they see us. One act cannot be separated from another. Everything returns.

And it isn't wrong, really, to expect to be respected. At the minimum.

Thanks to Dacian Goddess for betaing.