Hermione awoke disorientated, light-headed and with a thumping great headache. For a few moments she had no idea where she was since the familiar walls of the girls’ dormitory was nowhere to be seen. Still sleep-dazed, she reached up out of habit to brush the hair from her face. Instead of finding hair, her fingers found the raw, scarred mass that was her scalp.

As memories fought for ascendency, she felt her grip on reality slipping: the crone and her scissors as they cut at her scalp; Professor Snape and his curses; her hand frying before her eyes; Professor Snape, broken, held in her lap as a house elf worked magic; Draco and his touch as he’d grabbed her when she left the Potions classroom. She may be a Gryffindor, but at that instant her courage left her and she began to scream.

Brendan looked up from the prone Sirius as a scream, loud enough to wake the dead, or in this case the unconscious animagus, echoed throughout the manor. His, and Jaidy’s, momentary lapse of concentration was swiftly taken advantage of as Sirius lurched to his feet and attempted to apparate away.

The Manor’s apparation block prevented Sirius from success, but neither it nor the wards blocked his ability to transform. Jaidy and Brendan were suddenly confronted by a very large and very angry black dog; a black dog that had gotten the scent of Hermione Granger and blood. Driven by the need to get this information to Dumbledore, Sirius lunged past Jaidy and bounded out of the laboratory. The first partially open window he passed was put to good use, and he bounded away.

In times of crisis you want people who can act. This definitely counted as a crisis and both Brendan and Jaidy could and would act as necessary. Without a spoken word they divided the current tasks, Granger and Black. Though a witch, Hermione Granger was less likely to attack with magic and so Brendan raced towards her room; Sirius on the other hand not only could attack, but also would in all likelihood attack anyone who followed him; Jaidy set off fast on his heels.

Alastor Moody walked into Dumbledore’s office minutes after the Headmaster had returned from talking to Severus. Moody was unhappy and that was painfully obvious as anger and resignation vied for supremacy on his face. “All the staff will be questioned about the disappearances,” he said without preamble, “under Veritaserum.”

“And then what?” Dumbledore asked, “Azkaban?”

“If any staff member had anything to do with the disappearance of Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Dray then they will be sent to Azkaban, yes.”

“Even if it means we lose our eyes?”

“Even then Albus, especially then.” Alastor, generally considered mad by everyone, projected the air of an inquisitor on the hunt; fully ready to play judge, jury and executioner, and Dumbledore believed it.

Dumbledore sighed; in his heart he hoped that Severus would be able to pull off a miracle, but the chances of this actually occurring was so small as to be non-existent. With Alastor apparently in charge of the investigation, non-existent seemed very large indeed. “So, how are you going to go about it?”

“At breakfast this morning I expect you to announce to all the staff that you wish to speak to them all in private regarding the children’s disappearances and the security implications for Hogwarts.”

Jaidy quickly determined where Sirius was, and knew that as long as she could catch him before he reached the Headmaster, she could drag him back to the manor. She was not subject to the same rules as Sirius, and soon caught up with him. Jaidy debated the best method for stopping him, and decided the direct method was probably the best. Sirius was too intent on sensing when the wards of the manor were no longer in effect and was extremely surprised when Jaidy landed on his back. Jaidy quickly covered Sirius’ eyes in an attempt to steer him back towards the manor, but Sirius tumbled forward into a roll to shake the house elf off and they both plummeted down a steep bank into the creek below. Jaidy seized the dog’s ears and head-butted Sirius, but the animagus shrugged that off, stumbled over to the other side of the creek, and leapt up the embankment.

With Jaidy still hanging on grimly, Sirius felt the wards snap and he apparated back to Hogwarts. Jaidy took a moment to recover and magiked an ice sheet under the animagus. Dog and house-elf skated down the path towards the main entrance and collected Mrs Norris, who was sunning herself on the path. A wild pile of cat, animagus and house-elf slammed into the wall. Mrs Norris was not an impressed pussycat and took it all out on Sirius. Sirius howled in pain as Mrs Norris bit and clawed in a somewhat delicate area, and he was shocked into human form. He grabbed the cat by the throat, and beat her on the head until she finally let go. He hurled the limp cat away, staggering about in agony, looking around wildly for a bloody house-elf to kill.

His target for the moment unsighted, rational thought seized Sirius: he had to get to Dumbledore. He sprinted up the steps, praying that no one would see him as he hurtled towards the Headmaster’s office. Pain receding, he slipped back into his animagus form and sped along the corridor that led directly to Dumbledore’s office. The corridor promptly turned sharply to the left and a small opening in the wall swallowed Sirius whole. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be, is it? Think you’re bloody clever, don’t you, house-elf? Well old Sirius knows a lot more about elf-doors than you think’.

Sirius closed his eyes and relied entirely on his form’s sense of smell. Jaidy had no way of knowing that Sirius had known of this network of doors and corridors long before his incarceration at Azkaban, and afterwards had explored them as a matter of survival, though he had never been able to manipulate them as it appeared elves could. Piles of rock, sudden turns and pitfalls tried to trap him. If he’d been in human form, it would have worked. His keen senses detected a familiar smell and lunging at a seemingly solid wall, he found himself outside Dumbledore’s office. “Spearmint leaves,” he growled. As the door to the office opened, he saw the troublesome house-elf tumble into the corridor to his left. His tongue hung out in a canine smile that had nothing to do with being friendly, and wagged his tail at the elf as he slipped through the door. Jaidy gave him one despairing look, and quickly went through an elf-door that lead to the Forbidden Forest. Jaidy apparated back to the manor to report her failure to Brendan.

Brendan reached the room assigned to Hermione with his hearing intact, just. Thankful for the complex wards that Severus had placed on the room, he was able to enter even though Hermione could not leave. Still, leaving at the moment was far from her mind as the girl was sitting bolt upright in bed, hands clutched to her skull.

“Miss Granger?” Brendan ventured to ask in his most gentle voice, damning the darkness of the room and his inability to magically light his way.

The sound in the room only escalated to the point where Brendan feared for his ears. For Hermione was still caught in horrific nightmares and believed him to be a Death Eater come to inflict more pain and shrank back against the bed head, further into shadow.

His eyes not yet accustomed to the dark, gathering his own brand of courage about him, Brendan approached the bed and sat very gently beside the girl. Carefully reaching up to take her hands, he kept making soothing sounds, similar to those Hagrid would make to any frightened, deadly creature; for deadly creature Hermione was at that moment, though without her wand in hand she was at least safe to approach.

“Ah Severus,” Voldemort purred, satisfaction colouring his speech, “such a gift. I might even forgive you your liberties for this.” The gleam in Voldemort’s eyes was remarkably similar to the look Dumbledore got when he was up to something; Severus began to worry. “I require similar pieces from the two boys.”

“But…”

“Crucio,” Voldemort cast lazily without looking up from his contemplation of Hermione Granger’s scalp, stroking it like a lover. “I need no excuses potion maker, I just need pieces.”

Draco, standing beside his father, was exceedingly glad of the half-mask that hid his features. It was bad enough watching Lord Voldemort as he ran his fingers through the mop of hair that had once graced the Mudblood Granger, but the callous way his ‘Master’ asked for ‘pieces’ sent a shiver through his soul. Granger, at least, had been a filthy Mudblood, but both Henry Smithson and Andrew Dray were distant cousins and as pureblood as you could get. Obviously ‘Lord’ Voldemort cared little for the class of blood for his toys: pure or mudblood, it was all the same to this megalomaniac. ‘What have I gotten into?’ he asked himself as he watched Professor Snape writhe. It was only Draco’s iron will which saved him as Voldemort casually Legimised his Death eaters as Severus suffered at his feet. That was one skill at least that his father had taught him well.

“I can get you some of the scraps,” Severus whispered over a wave of pain.

“Scraps!” Voldemort howled. Severus’ day seemed to be remaining on par as Voldemort intensified the Crucio. “I need more than a few scraps. Blood and bone is what I need, blood and bone, Potions ‘Master’.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Severus’ voice died away as he appeared to slip into unconsciousness.

Severus had failed to cry out, as always, whilst under the Crucio and that angered Voldemort, as always. ‘One day he’ll break’, Voldemort thought as he turned to survey his loyal Death Eaters for a new target. ‘Perhaps one of the new recruits… Let’s see what they are made of’.

Severus, glad of the respite as Voldemort’s attention turned to others, was saddened to hear a young male voice cry out in pain. Draco, it appeared, had come to the mad Lord’s attention. Remembering bits and pieces from Brendan’s debrief he wondered what this would do the young man; could he still be pushed away from darkness? Careful not to allow his conscious state to be known, Severus began to think on Voldemort’s request, and the possible consequences.

“Severus? Oh, Severus,” A gentle, cloying, voice whispered in his ear, “are you awake yet?”

Damning his inattention, Severus realised that Draco’s cries had ceased; for how long was the question.

“Surely you have recovered, potion maker, after all I do need you to collect those components for me.” The intonation suggested that Severus had better have recovered and be ready to obtain his master’s desire immediately.

“Yes My Lord,” Severus croaked, attempting to maintain the fiction that he had only just woken. The possibility that Voldemort might not believe the ruse was worrying in the extreme. Fortunately, standing was somewhat of an effort, due mainly Black’s earlier attack. Still it was a relief to be able to appear injured, anything to throw Voldemort off the scent.

“It may take me a while,” Severus said, trying to buy some precious time.

“No it won’t,” Voldemort stated flatly.

Severus’ survival instincts kicked into high gear and he agreed readily that, of course, it would not take long at all. Apparating whilst still prone at the madman’s feet, though only sufficiently far to put the gathering out of sight, Severus stopped and waited to see if he was followed. Balancing Voldemort’s less than subtle hints about the speed with which he was required to complete his task against the need for safety, Severus waited ten minutes before he activated the portkey that would take him directly to Snape Manor.

The laboratory was empty, but that raised no sense of concern. Brendan and Jaidy had obviously taken Sirius Black to a safer locale, hopefully the Manor dungeon. With time very much of the essence, Severus apparated directly to the room where the boys had been ensconced, glad to find them still sleeping, dead to the world.

Begging the Lady’s pardon; for what he needed to do to supply Voldemort his ‘proof’ of death was to invoke skills he held through her, rather than his own. He felt the Lady’s approval as she skimmed his mind and granted his request for power. He made sure that the boys would feel no pain as he steeled himself for the grisly task ahead. Summoning the Obsidian Blade from the temple, Severus made two quick, deep cuts, one to each of boys’ left forearm. Inserting the blade between the ulna and radius bones, he cut away at the tendons until he had the ulna from each boy.

Calling on the healing skills granted to him through Her grace, he made a small cut to the palm of his hand and allowed a few drops to land over the incisions he had made. The blood flow ceased and the wounds sealed at the touch of Severus’ blood. Below the skin, the muscles repaired themselves; the Skele-grow potion would be used later to regrow the missing bone.

Taking the bloodied bones, Severus then cast an aging spell. What he now held in hand resembled samples taken during a poorly performed autopsy. Satisfied that they would suit Voldemort’s needs, Severus touched the Dark Mark and returned to his master’s side.

“Ah, Severus, I knew I could count on you if you had the right motivation,” Voldemort murmured as he took the bones and casually cast Crucio. “Still, next time I would expect a higher degree of alacrity.”

Severus didn’t even have time to reply as he collapsed under the onslaught, Voldemort was definitely not a happy little megalomaniac. Trying to find the reason, Severus noticed the small heap that was Draco; it seemed the boy had not fared well after he had left, even from here he could smell the results, vomit and the result of voiding made for a sickening smell.

Whilst many a Death Eater had been on the receiving end of Voldemort’s tender mercies, and all but Severus had cried out for mercy at some point, the Dark Lord took a dim view of any sign of weakness in those of his ranks. Weaknesses in the so-called Order of the Phoenix, well that was a different matter. Those could be exploited.

His protective instincts for his Slytherins kicked in and his sense of self-preservation deserted him as he levered himself up. “My Lord,” he whispered.

“Yes?” Voldemort said testily.

“Dumbledore is already suspicious of Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson,” Severus blandly stated as he looked to where the children were. “The fact that they are missing is likely to have been noted. Given the state Mr Malfoy is in, it will take a while to ‘clean him up’.”

Voldemort appeared to consider his comment and for once fate smiled as the Dark Lord jumped to the conclusion Severus wanted. “Take them home then,” he snarled.

As he approached the still writhing Draco, Severus noticed that Lucius’ hands were shaking, small tremors that he normally wouldn’t have noticed. ‘Softly, softly’, he thought to himself. Draco cringed from his touch, which was a sad indictment of his success at playing a ‘child-loving’ bastard. He picked Draco up roughly and dragged Pansy from the crowd of Death Eaters. For her part, Parkinson shot him a look of loathing as she protested about her abrupt departure.

Apparating with both children was draining and if it hadn’t been for the need to separate himself from them before arriving back at Hogwarts, he’d have taken them directly to the front gates instead of the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Clean yourself up, Mr Malfoy,” he said as they landed. “I do so hope you are up to a little ‘assignation’ with Miss Parkinson.”

Pansy, somewhat disgusted by the show of weakness from Draco, asked why in a petulant, whining voice.

“Because, you silly bitch, you have both undoubtedly been missed. The Ministry may have regulations about interactions with people underage, but if you give them enough of a reason, they may decide it is in their best interests to ‘interview’ you. Something I am sure that would displease Lord Voldemort immensely. You used the excuse of an ‘assignation’ on Friday, I suggest you make today’s look somewhat more heated. Of course I could simply Obliviate you, if you would prefer.”

Pansy, not liking the look in her Head of House’s eye, quickly grabbed a now clean Draco and began to kiss him as if her life depended on it.

Severus left them to their tryst whilst trying to work out what to do about Draco; could the boy be turned from his father’s path?

The fact that Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson had not returned to the Slytherin tower after breakfast was noted almost immediately, but as Sirius had yet to reappear from whatever night-time assignation he had been on, Remus was left the task of overseeing the rest of the Snake’s House: a task which allowed him no chance to even floo the Headmaster with news of the missing pair. Still, he was wary of doing just that. Something told him that would escalate matters in a way that should be avoided, so instead, he sat in the tower common room, watched, waited, and thought.

He actually heard the pair approaching long before they re-appeared, ‘one advantage of the wolf’, he thought sardonically, ‘heightened senses’. He took for granted that his senses were acutely sensitive at all times. The lack of consistent interaction with other werewolves meant he had no idea that this was not in fact normal.

“Well Miss Parkinson, Mr Malfoy,” Remus asked with deceptive mildness as the pair tried to sneak into the common room, “should I bring to your House head’s attention that you did not return to the Tower as instructed after breakfast?” These words affected the pair in remarkably different ways. Parkinson preened as though it was of no moment that she had disobeyed the Headmaster’s request, whereas Malfoy looked decidedly unwell.

“Professor Snape had some things that he wished to discuss with us, Mr Lupin.” Pansy, still riding on a high from this mornings meeting with Lord Voldemort, let her mouth run away with her.

“Did he now?” Remus asked looking pointedly at Miss Parkinson. “Then perhaps you can tell me where he is at the moment?” That Professor Snape might be anywhere but his quarters, and well and truly locked in them, was simply out of the question. After the events of the past two days, Albus was keeping a wary eye on the Potions Master.

Draco groaned loudly, drawing Remus’ attention to him. “We were a little caught up in private matters, Sir,” he said blandly, but his body language told Remus a far different story. “Professor Snape told us to return to the castle, since the Forbidden Forest was not an appropriate place for any…assignations.” Draco was smart enough to mix enough truth that the whole would be accepted, all the while wondering how Parkinson had ever gotten sorted into Slytherin.

“I see. Well I’m still going to have to mention this to your House-head and to the Headmaster. For the moment both of you are confined to the tower at all times. Am I understood?” Remus said, in quiet, implacable tones. “If I find that either of you disregard that, Slytherin will lose 200 points, each. And believe me, I WILL find out.” Remus’ mouth drew into a vulpine smile that had the two Slytherins take a step back fearfully.

The look that crossed Pansy’s face could have been learnt from Narcissa Malfoy; Remus was almost tempted to ask what had died. Draco, on the other hand, wrapped himself in his old arrogance, “We understand, Sir. Now if you will excuse us…” Draco said, turning to leave the common room. It was brief, very brief, but something in Draco’s eyes caught Remus’ attention. He smelt Draco’s fear and loathing of the Slytherin bit next to him. Remus thought fast on his feet, and trusted his instincts.

“Not yet, Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson. I’ve noticed that the showers in this tower are in need of cleaning,” Remus commented blandly, “I think a chance to think on the necessity of obeying the Headmaster whilst cleaning the showers would do both of you a lot of good.”

Draco exploded. “That’s house-elf work! I’m not going to do that! Wait ‘till my father hears of this!” Pansy’s expression split into a wide grin as she watched Draco wind up into a full-blown hissy fit. Remus, on the other hand, seemed to be nearing the end of his patience. A low growl started from his waist and grew louder against Draco’s protests. The two Slytherins quailed as Remus grabbed them both and dragged them towards the bathing areas. “Ms Parkinson, you will start here,” Remus snarled as he bundled her into the girls’ showers, his were-strength sliding her across the tiled area. Pansy said nothing, cowering on the floor; Remus’ expression killed any defiance that was present. “Mr Malfoy, you will have the pleasure of my company. I believe the boys’ showers are this way?” Now out of Pansy’s sight, Remus gestured to Draco with a “continue” gesture.

“Get away from me you filthy…”

“I wouldn’t finish that statement if I was you, Mr Malfoy,” Remus cut across Draco’s tirade, loudly, so that Pansy could not help but overhear. “You will regret any further comments.”

Following after the boy, Remus thought back to Draco’s actions the night before. The boy had seen or at least heard enough to believe that the children were dead, and at Severus’ hand no less, and yet something didn’t ring quite true.

Conjuring a mop and bucket, Remus set to Draco Malfoy cleaning by hand. “No magic today, Mr Malfoy. After all with Aurors visiting here today amongst other places; we really wouldn’t want any stray spells,” Remus said politely, hoping to get some form of reaction out of the sulking Slytherin. He got a reaction all right, just not the one he was expecting.

“Like Ministry Aurors are going to find anything left,” Draco mumbled under his breath. If it hadn’t been for Remus’ sensitive hearing he wouldn’t have heard a thing.

‘What do you know Draco? Or what do you think you know’, Remus thought to himself as he commented into the silence, “My…condolences, Mr Malfoy.”

Looking up sharply at the non sequitur, Draco frowned before he raised his left eyebrow in a pale imitation of Severus Snape at his best. “Pardon?”

“Andrew,” Remus answered. “He was your cousin I believe?”

Draco wasn’t really listening to the werewolf, he was thinking back on the morning’s events. The sight of the bloodied bones was what had finally broken through his self-absorbed shell. He was still seething at his punishment, but strangely, the act of cleaning allowed him to focus on what was important, with no distractions. He was loath to admit it and his pureblood heritage was screaming at himself in the recesses of his mind. But, admittedly, where did that get his cousin? He could remember a Christmas time, years earlier, when all the Malfoy family, and its various pureblood connections, had gathered. The children, himself among them for the last time, had gathered outside and the younger ones were engaged in a game of ‘ring around the roses’. Amid much laughter, Andrew had come up to his older, and much worshipped, older cousin to ask in all seriousness what the song had been about.

Draco had explained that back in the Dark Ages there had been a disease called the Black Plague, one that affected wizard and muggle alike, although he hadn’t explained that bit. It had been so bad that people had thought that anyone who even sneezed was going to die. The game had evolved from the symptoms and the so-called muggle cure of the day, and had been a child’s way of coping with all the death that had been prevalent during those times. Andrew had though on this, a worried frown on his young face, before piping up that Magical Medicine was so much more advanced and people wouldn’t die like that anymore so Draco needn’t worry. “Magic can cure anything, Draco.” The young boy had said with conviction.

“Not everything, Drew.” Draco had murmured at Remus’ question. “Not everything.”

In the end it was a quiet and subdued Draco Malfoy who finished cleaning the bathroom, looking at Remus with a mixture of defiance and world-weariness.

Nothing more was said and Remus was ‘sensitive’ enough to leave well enough alone. If the boy had doubts and needed counsel, he would provide it, but care would need to be taken. ‘Funny’, he though to himself, ‘I suddenly feel like Albus’.

Those thoughts were to return later in the day and in the end, Remus would be more like Albus Dumbledore than he ever thought possible.

Handing Professor Dumbledore a vial of Veritaserum, Alastor stepped back into the role of Ministry Auror, even though in this case, it was at Dumbledore’s request. It didn’t take Alastor long to determine that as far as Dumbledore knew he was the last person to see Professor Snape before he answered the summons; no names were mentioned in case of other ears. All other information appeared to be conjecture.

Working from the staff list, Alastor continued to question all about the last known whereabouts of the children. It was quickly determined that they had all left their respective first period classes, but had failed to show up at any subsequent classes. Without permission to question any of the students, he was left with very little to go on. If the missing children turned up dead or injured, the Ministry might release permission to question the students, but until then, they were hampered by laws that guarded those children’s rights. None-the-less, some of the children, mainly Gryffindors, had come forward and, whilst nothing was said under Veritaserum, it appeared that the last people to be seen anywhere near the missing children had in fact been Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson

Dumbledore, who had been present during all of the interviews, was considering sending for Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson when Sirius Black bolted through the door.

“That bastard killed them!” Sirius screeched as he landed in a heap at Dumbledore’s feet.

“Which bastard killed who?” Dumbledore asked reasonably as Sirius sat himself up, a large lump visible to all gracing the back of his head.

“Your precious Potions Master,” Sirius barked. “I smelt Miss Granger’s blood in his laboratory at Snape Manor.”

Sometime later Severus walked into the Great Hall, weary and tired, but at least still in one piece. Voldemort had been well satisfied with his new toys and had allowed Severus to leave the gathering with a last gentle admonishment that he should get out more, as his potion maker was looking decidedly peaked.

Luncheon was just being served so he was unobserved as he made his way to the staff table; a fact for which he was glad of when he saw Sirius seated next to Dumbledore.

‘Great, this day just keeps getting better’, he thought as he debated turning and leaving the way he’d come. The choice was taken from him when Dumbledore looked up suddenly. Accepting his fate, Severus continued towards the high table and seated himself in the only empty chair, unfortunately next to Sirius Black.

Ignoring Black, Severus directed a comment to Dumbledore, “I believe that you wished to see me, Headmaster? I’m sorry for the delay, but it took longer than I anticipated to harvest the necessary ingredients.”

“Ahh yes,” Dumbledore said with deceptive mildness. “We have been going over Friday’s events with the other staff, after lunch would you please come to my office?”

Severus accepted the implied command, after all it was nothing less than he expected. In fact with Sirius present, he was surprised he wasn’t being dragged off to Azkaban already. Lunch was a stilted affair and Severus left as soon as he was able.

Seeing Severus get up to leave, Dumbledore signalled Alastor before addressing his Potions Master. “I’ll see you now, Severus.”

With no choice but to comply, Severus followed the Headmaster from the Great Hall.

Taking the seat indicated, Severus waited for the axe to fall; it was not long in coming. Dealing with Voldemort had taken more out of him today that he expected. It was only as he sat that he realised his mistake, the chair itself was charmed.

“Now I’m sure you can understand that as the last person that saw Miss Granger alive, we were hoping you could shed some light on what happened,” Dumbledore said as Alastor Moody walked into the room.

“And rather than trust me, you place me under the Veritaserum charm?”

Alastor realised Dumbledore’s mistake the moment Severus asked the question. Severus hadn’t been at Hogwarts all morning and thus was unaware that all the staff members had been questioned, albeit under the Veritaserum potion rather than the charm.

“I’ll take it from here,” Alastor said causing Severus to turn and study him. “All the rest of the staff have been questioned already, Professor Snape,” he started to explain hoping to get the Potions Master into a mood to co-operate.

“And I suppose nothing of great note was discovered?”

“Some things, but I need to clear up a few matters.”

“Get on with then, Moody,” Severus finally snapped. What could he say that wouldn’t damn him even further with Sirius Black on the loose? He’d have liked a chance to ponder that, but was drawn back to the present by Alastor’s first question.

“Did you kill Hermione Granger?”

“No,” Severus answered, enjoying the look of shock on Dumbledore’s face. “Why do you think I did?”

“Because I’ve just returned from your Manor and I know you’re lying,” Sirius spat as he strode into the room.

“He can’t be lying, Sirius,” Dumbledore admonished the enraged animagus.

“Why not?” Sirius asked without regard to the fact he was the one interrupting, and a very unwelcome interruption he was at that.

“The Veritaserum charm, you overblown prig,” Severus said with a dead voice as he drew further into himself. “Now finish your questions, Moody.” All traces of Severus disappeared as Professor Snape snarled, “Well get on with it then.”

Alastor was caught between an overwhelming desire to hex Sirius into the next century and the need to finish this interrogation as fast as possible. How would he be able to rebuild Severus’ trust now? He desperately needed Severus’ trust more than ever as his own instincts screamed that something did not add up.

Alastor questioned him closely with a skill Severus would normally have admired. That is, if he hadn’t been on the receiving end. Still there was a pattern to the questions, if he could figure it out maybe he could get away with his ‘mind’ intact.

“Was Miss Granger in any of your classes on Friday?”

“Yes.”

“Which class?”

“Potions, of course, you dunderhead.”

“And I suppose that is the last time you saw her?” Sirius interjected belligerently.

With all of Professor Snape’s disdain for interruption he answered, “No.” After all, the fact that he had seen her had already been established.

“And when was that, then?” Sirius continued before Alastor or Dumbledore could intervene.

“Sirius, you presence here is not welcome, but as I expect you’d try and find some way to listen in, I will allow you to stay, but only if you remain silent,” Alastor said loudly enough to cover any answer Severus may have made. The fact was not lost on Severus and he allowed himself to relax every so slightly. He, like Moody, had learned when to trust his instincts and when not.

As Sirius was about to complain, Alastor cast Silencio. “You were permitted to answer my questions this morning, Mr Black, without interruption, now allow Professor Snape the same courtesy.”

“Did you take Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray from Hogwarts?”

“No.”

“Do you know who took Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray from Hogwarts?”

“No.”

“Why did you leave Hogwarts on Friday morning?”

“To answer a summons.”

“Do you know how Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray were taken from Hogwarts?”

“No.”

“Did you help anyone else kill Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray?”

“No.” By this time Severus was beginning to enjoy the look of fury on Sirius Black’s face, particularly as he was answering truthfully the questions asked. Retired, Alastor Moody may have been, but he was still a very skilled interrogator and it appeared he was being extremely careful with his questions, very careful indeed. That fact was underscored by the next question.

“Do you know exactly where Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray are at this moment?”

Suspect where they were, yes; know definitively, no. “No.”

Turning to Dumbledore Alastor said, “For the record, you are aware that Professor Snape is incapable of lying at this time.”

Dumbledore nodded his head in understanding. It appeared his Potions Master knew absolutely nothing about the deaths of Hogwart’s missing children. “But what of Sirius’ experiences this morning? You have not asked for an explanation of that.”

“Given what we suspect happened at the meeting Professor Snape was summoned to, I am not surprised at Mr Black’s ‘nasal’ observations,” Alastor answered reasonably. Dumbledore picked up on the unspoken warning and said nothing further. Until they knew for certain, they could not afford to lose Severus Snape.

“Thank you for your co-operation, Professor,” Alastor said finally, indicating the interview was over. “I apologise for not warning you about the charm but as these interviews will form the basis of the Ministry investigation, we must be certain of the truth.”

“I’ll take my leave, Headmaster. I believe that you wished to discuss other matters with the professor.”

After the last comment, Alastor took a long hard look at Severus then before anyone in the room could react; he magically bound both Dumbledore and Sirius. His gaze still fixed on the Potions Master; he then proceeded to both blind and deafen the two men.

“Alright Severus, what aren’t you telling me?”