Chapter Text
He was sat in a chair that did not belong to him, in a position that had been thrust upon him against his wanting and in a manner he could barely stomach, with a scowl on his face blacker than the moonless night sky. The mahogany desk in front of him was covered with scrolls and parchments but he was not even attempting to concentrate on their content. The quill had long been placed back in its holder and he swivelled his chair round to glare out the window, his gaze sweeping over the sleeping portraits and following the forest to the horizon.
The weight of his thoughts were starting to choke him and he clawed at the buttons around his neck, pulling his frock coat open to reveal the crisp white shirt he wore beneath. Opening the top few buttons he then visibly relaxed and laced his hands together, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, he tried again to formulate a plan of action.
It was a very little known fact that Albus Dumbledore had duplicated the Sword of Gryffindor. It was even less widely known that the copy, hanging in the Headmaster’s office in the place of the original, was just that. A copy, devoid of any magical ability. Known only to himself and the one other person that had ever truly known his allegiance, the real sword was kept safely hidden until such a time as he could get it to that dratted Potter boy. Herein lay the problem. Here was the reason for the scowl. Yet another task lay before him, seemingly impossible and yet imperative that it be achieved without anyone knowing it to be him.
The main obstacle he had was his complete lack of contact with the Order. His actions, as he had known that they would, had turned every last one of them against him. His glare turned into a sneer directed at the portraiture of Albus Dumbledore hanging on the wall next to the window, but instead of it showing the former headmaster in all his glory, his eyes actually landed upon a painting of a sleeping wizard who’s glasses were falling off his usually twinkling eyes and whose book was slipping out of his relaxed hands.
Snape snorted rather ungainly as he thought “Typical for the old man to be sleeping on the job. Couldn’t be awake and giving me some decent help, could he? Oh no, just had to make me look so much worse and leave absolutely no avenue of help open.”
It did, however, do wonders for his disguise and his position within the Death Eaters. It also meant he had been made Headmaster of Hogwarts so he was able to keep the children as safe as he could without it being so obvious that he was found out. A thin rope to be walking. He had, on the Dark Lord’s orders, had to employ a couple of Death Eaters as teachers, but there were far worse horrors than that which the Carrows could inflict. It tore at his very being that he had to allow them into the school and give them access to the students. His only hope was that the other teachers would be sensible enough to intervene if things started to get out of hand as he knew he could not rely on the children to behave. Neville Longbottom and his followers were a prime example of that.
His scowl deepened with this line of thought. He may not portray himself as a decent man but the hurt, pain and anguish being caused by his hand, however indirectly, made him wish for better things. It made him wish that he had been a better child. Better able to choose the right path and do the right thing before his words tore his own heart out and ripped it to shreds. However, long years of behaving this way and ensuring his solitude had taught him that dwelling on these kinds of thoughts was not going to get him anywhere. He had his role to play and certain jobs to do. He could only hope that completing them and finally reaching the end would bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord; absolving him of his childhoods wrong doings if not those that he had been forced to commit since.
With that faint, hope burning within him he abruptly stood up from his chair, summoned his teaching robes and swept out of the office. There were only two cures for a wandering mind that could find no answers. One was prowling the corridors and intimidating small children (a task which had started to lose its joy now that the students had more to be afraid of with the Carrows in residence) and the other was brewing. He had decided to attempt both in his dire need to quiet his mind and bring about the concentration that would help Merlin to inspire him with a glimpse of the future and what it was he was actually supposed to do.
There was nothing like killing two birds with one stone.
He reached the bottom of the spiral staircase and the Gargoyle jumped aside for him with no complaint. He stood for a moment in the corridor allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light that was filtering in from the windows and flickering across the floor from the sconces. The Headmasters office had been dimly lit by candlelight, but he had not felt the need to illuminate his path down the spiral staircase therefore emerging into the corridor had temporarily blinded him. Not being one to show weakness of any kind he simply waited for his eyes to adjust before sweeping down the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall.
He was slightly disappointed to find no trace of magic being used to cloak any of the alcoves on his way, meaning that none of the older students were attempting to disguise themselves and there were no obvious signs of the younger children being out and about either. As he reached the entrance hall he glanced over to the House Hourglasses and the Slytherin in him swelled with pride at how full the Slytherin Hourglass was. The Gryffindor Hourglass was very nearly empty and he wondered, fleetingly, whether it was possible for an hourglass to show minus figures.
It was probably a good thing that there were no students out of bounds as he made his way down into the depths of the Castle to his personal quarters in the dungeon. He had replaced his teaching robes but neglected to re-fasten his frock coat and shirt and no matter how menacing he could have been, it would have been that which would have frightened the children most; seeing him in an almost human light rather than his usual closed garb of bat of the dungeon.
He had refused to move his things into the Headmasters rooms that were situated off the Head’s office, using the excuse that he needed to remain close to his personal potions laboratory. Whereas really it was because moving into Dumbledore’s rooms put a more official end to his life and it was bad enough that he had been responsible for that without tarnishing the Heads' living quarters.
He reached the alcove that gave access to his laboratory, took his wand out and in one swift movement with a barely audible incantation had disabled the wards. He entered the room through a door concealed by a large wall hanging of Demillious the Disdainful. Throwing up the wards behind him so that he would be warned if anyone attempted to reach him, he removed his teaching robes and crossed the room to the workbench where his current experiment sat patiently waiting under stasis in his cauldron.
He removed the stasis charm, lit the fire under the cauldron to ensure that the potion was only gently bubbling and studied it critically for a moment. He had one more item to add before it was ready for testing and according to his notes it would need 4 anti-clockwise stirs with a silver rod to be complete. He pulled open the draw of the workbench and removed a quill, ink and his notes. Turning to the last page he scribbled down the date and wrote that he was about to add the final ingredient. He then re-read the previous entry’s notes, nodded to himself as he was satisfied with the actions required and went to his store cupboard to obtain the items required.
Popping open the vial of liquid in his left hand he carefully added three drops to the experiment, recapped the vial and picked up the silver rod. He placed it into the cauldron at the point opposite to him and proceeded to methodically stir in an anti-clockwise direction at a steady pace, stopping when he had completed four rounds of the cauldron. He then removed the rod, taking care not to spill any liquid on the worktop and extinguished the fire beneath. It would not take long for the potion to cool and then he would be ready to test it to see if this was the one.
He pulled out the stool from beneath the workbench and settled down with his paperwork and started carefully noting down what he had done, what effects he had seen as he had done so, as well as those that it was showing now it was completed. This systematic and meticulous part of his potion experimentation served two purposes. It helped order his thoughts and document all processes and outcomes so that he didn’t unnecessarily duplicate an ineffective potion and it served to pass the time between extinguishing the flame beneath the cauldron and allowing the potion to cool naturally. (He had already determined that using a cooling charm messed with the substance of the potion and was not worth the risk until he had created a working potion). Once he had the working potion, then he would be able to tinker with things such as a quicker cool down process or nicer taste. Not that he had been stupid enough to test it on himself yet.
Putting his notes to one side he siphoned the potion into an empty vial, labelled the vial ‘Exp.N.A.No28’ and cleared away the worktop so that all that was left were his notes neatly stacked at one end and two potion vials in front of him. Then he went to one of his shelves and uncovered a cage that contained mice. Opening the door he carefully reached in and picked one of the mice up, no sound reached his ears until the little mite had cleared the silencing charm he had placed around the cage, then his little protesting squeaks seemed to echo around the room as though he realised what his fate was. Snape had no problem ignoring the creatures peeping and simply placed the mouse on his worktop, casting a charm to keep it in the area whilst still allowing it some room to roam. Picking up the first of the two vials, labelled ‘Nagini Venom’, he uncorked it, placed the cork to one side and then re-captured the mouse. As expected, the little creature was most helpful by opening its little mouth wide to squeak in protest, only to find that Snape, being the Slytherin that he was, had used that moment to place one drop of the venom in its mouth. He then set the mouse back down, re-corked the vial whilst not taking his eyes off the rodent and then picked up the other vial. He swiftly uncorked this one as the mouse tottered and fell to one side its little mouth open in shock and its eyes starting to glaze over. Snape picked the mouse up again, placed one drop of the potion directly to the back of its throat, and gently rubbed his throat to ensure digestion. He then placed the mouse back down and proceeded to write more notes whilst watching to see what would happen.
As he watched, the little mouse’s erratic breathing started to settle and its heart rate steadied. The mouse was rapidly opening and closing its mouth so he went to the cage and removed the water bottle and held it just in reach of its mouth so that it was able to drink greedily. Once it had had its fill, he returned the bottle to the cage and checked the mouse that was now fast asleep breathing calmly, heart rate slowed but beating steadily. Experiment Nagini Antidote Number 28 was a success! If anyone had been there to see it, they would have seen triumph visibly sparkling in Snape’s eyes.