*The files begin to shuffle slowly toward the centre of the room, reordering themselves in near silent wariness as Crouch Sr. gazes out over top of them. He is controlling their movements, but they look for all the world like creeping subservient lifeforms trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves. Their weaponry has been used, and they are no longer needed to destroy Snape.*
You thought if no trace was left behind no one would see what you had done, but I've known who you are for quite a while, Mr. Snape. You see, you have remained at large for one simple reason, and it is not the one you are thinking of.
These Aurors are told to look for signatures, markings, things left behind. They don't see how very obvious you are, because they don't see what isn't there, just as you no doubt counted on with your little poison stunts. Normally, I don't accept failure. But there is a time and a place for punishment, and now is a very suitable time.
I believe the passing of my new legislation is the perfect moment to bring in the wizard responsible for the murder of Albus Dumbledore.
*Snape's spleen tries to evacuate his body through his oesophagus before any sort of coherent reply - at least that's the closest approximation to the bubble of dread forming fast in his vital airways. It becomes a credit to his dedication that, after a horrible second, something ordered manages to spill out. Like roadkill plastered on asphalt, his tone is dark, coagulated and flat.*
That's a lie, you wouldn't need to ask so many questions if you were even half as sure as you sound.
On the contrary, everything I need to prosecute you is already available to me. There are only so many potion brewers employed at St. Mungo's with reputations like yours, and fewer still who would be oafish enough to repeat their crime. It isn't difficult to uncover your associates, or to search your home for evidence. From what I understand, there should be more than enough waste to test for ingredient residue left behind.
Tonight is largely for prosperity. You are a loose end, Mr. Snape. One I will not tolerate.
*He had always approached war like a coin, there was heads and there was tails, Mulciber and Evans, the Dark Lord and the Order. Each had their niches, areas where he could dig a yellow finger nail into and hold it there. He'd balanced the coin perfectly on the table but only now does he give any consideration to the table itself. That third side, on which everything rests. The side where he has no niche, nowhere to sink a nail into, no hold or friction. There had been a time when Snape always had a defence and a lie, a fall back and a back up and the longer he sits here, blood drumming against the inside of his swollen limbs, he realizes now is not that time.*
Now, your method is clear and the motive behind your violence is of no concern to me. I know a bad generation of stock when I see one, and yours has proved to be a significant disappointment. New recruits to the Ministry don't understand hard work, your scurrying little friends think they are going unnoticed and unchecked. I've concluded that regardless of training or instruction there is just no hope of rehabilitation with people like you, I see culling the herd as a commitment of mine, much like solving each of these cases.
What I will hear from you is why would Voldemort be senseless enough to send an easy mark like you to handle a threat?
*Something strange happens then - stranger than anything that proceeded it. Stranger than folders and curving bricks and wizards locked in underground interrogation rooms. It's a twitch. It runs full-length through Snape, a flicker of movement that's wholly unnatural. He rolls his neck in response, as if trying to writhe away from the question and from his body. And yet, before he knows it, he's answering, answering with unwarranted and unprecedented confidence. Something smug and grandiose that's always been there - that's juts now been unlocked. However, the processes that lead him to say it are hazy, instinctual - impossible to focus in on and understand.*
That's your great mystery? It's Albus Dumbledore who was the easy mark.
*The lack of any pitiable attempt to deny guilt on Snape's part is refreshing, but his prisoner's honesty is not anything unexpected, either. Still, real answers are something Crouch Sr. thinks of as his prerogative to receive, and his chin drops in brooding dissatisfaction.*
...I don't advise you to continue telling me the very obvious. Dumbledore's reputation is known to every child who can afford a Chocolate Frog card but students made appointments with him just as easily as members of the Wizengamot. I do not need to be told that he was an easy man to find.
The fact is, his murder was a result of careful planning, and there are several hours before the time of death where it seems no one saw him. If the mess you made of the St. Mungo's massacre is anything to go on, I would never have suspected you to be capable of anything near such a feat as Dumbledore's death. Since you are only necessary any more for as long as your confession continues to interest me, I suggest you begin to find something better to say.
How did someone with your laughable skill set manage to have such good luck the first time around? Was it you who was with Dumbledore for those missing hours?
*The words are in his belly at first, stirring in his stomach, unhappy with the lengthening silence - the question Snape intends to leave unanswered. They slither upward, undulating his prominent Adam's apple in the process, arriving at the wall of his crooked, yellow teeth and spilling through the gaps, his tongue launching them forward.*
Yes. But I was hardly the only one. He was distracted, the plan would have failed otherwise.
*Crouch Sr. lays a hand on the top of the files, silently siphoning information from them and seeming more like a psychic than someone blessed with an eidetic memory.*
So there were others with you. The last person who reported seeing or hearing from Dumbledore did so in the afternoon, just after 4:30 to be precise. Who were they, Mr. Snape? What distracted his attention?
*Snape lets his still-dripping hair fall into his face, thick wet bands now separating him from Crouch like prison bars. They prove an inadequate shield, his lips forming an unwanted answer.*
A simpering fortune-teller who was applying for a job. She was clearly one bezoar short of an antidote.
And here I was just beginning to think that Voldemort was intelligent enough to send in more than one child to do the job.
If this woman wasn't an associate of yours and really was seeking Dumbledore's employment, no record of her statement has ever been filed. Just what did the Headmaster of Hogwarts and a fortune teller have to discuss that was worth listening to? Was this an intelligence mission or an assassination?
*It becomes natural now, speaking. Perhaps his brain has accepted the inevitable, perhaps he wants credit where credit is due, perhaps the strange curving bricks and the large, sharp eyes are enough. Perhaps his resolve has weakened. Perhaps his words, both bitter and boastful, really are of his own volition. Perhaps.*
It started as an assassination but there was - it all changed. The woman was practically speaking in tongues - it seemed to make sense to Dumbledore. He caught me, on his way out. I could never report what I'd heard. He made sure of that.
I wasn't aware dead men held that kind of power over their murderers. If you had information to give, gathered from someone who was enough of a threat to be taken out, what stopped you? You don't strike me as the guilt-ridden type.
*Crouch Sr. neither needs nor deserves any more upperhand than he has already created for himself, but something lights in his eyes at this revelation. It takes too much to impress him, that isn't it. But, like when reading a novel, he finds a degree of unemotional happiness when life takes a turn he hadn't already anticipated five chapters ago, just as long as it doesn't spoil the rest of the story.*
Very interesting. You may make our time together worthwhile yet, Mr. Snape.
If Professor Dumbledore didn't appreciate you overhearing what this fortune teller had to tell him and swore you to secrecy for the price of your life, how were you able to carry out the rest of your mission unnoticed?
You thought if no trace was left behind no one would see what you had done, but I've known who you are for quite a while, Mr. Snape. You see, you have remained at large for one simple reason, and it is not the one you are thinking of.
These Aurors are told to look for signatures, markings, things left behind. They don't see how very obvious you are, because they don't see what isn't there, just as you no doubt counted on with your little poison stunts. Normally, I don't accept failure. But there is a time and a place for punishment, and now is a very suitable time.
I believe the passing of my new legislation is the perfect moment to bring in the wizard responsible for the murder of Albus Dumbledore.
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That's a lie, you wouldn't need to ask so many questions if you were even half as sure as you sound.
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Tonight is largely for prosperity. You are a loose end, Mr. Snape. One I will not tolerate.
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Reply
What I will hear from you is why would Voldemort be senseless enough to send an easy mark like you to handle a threat?
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That's your great mystery? It's Albus Dumbledore who was the easy mark.
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...I don't advise you to continue telling me the very obvious. Dumbledore's reputation is known to every child who can afford a Chocolate Frog card but students made appointments with him just as easily as members of the Wizengamot. I do not need to be told that he was an easy man to find.
The fact is, his murder was a result of careful planning, and there are several hours before the time of death where it seems no one saw him. If the mess you made of the St. Mungo's massacre is anything to go on, I would never have suspected you to be capable of anything near such a feat as Dumbledore's death. Since you are only necessary any more for as long as your confession continues to interest me, I suggest you begin to find something better to say.
How did someone with your laughable skill set manage to have such good luck the first time around? Was it you who was with Dumbledore for those missing hours?
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Yes. But I was hardly the only one. He was distracted, the plan would have failed otherwise.
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So there were others with you. The last person who reported seeing or hearing from Dumbledore did so in the afternoon, just after 4:30 to be precise. Who were they, Mr. Snape? What distracted his attention?
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A simpering fortune-teller who was applying for a job. She was clearly one bezoar short of an antidote.
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If this woman wasn't an associate of yours and really was seeking Dumbledore's employment, no record of her statement has ever been filed. Just what did the Headmaster of Hogwarts and a fortune teller have to discuss that was worth listening to? Was this an intelligence mission or an assassination?
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It started as an assassination but there was - it all changed. The woman was practically speaking in tongues - it seemed to make sense to Dumbledore. He caught me, on his way out. I could never report what I'd heard. He made sure of that.
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A vow.
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*Crouch Sr. neither needs nor deserves any more upperhand than he has already created for himself, but something lights in his eyes at this revelation. It takes too much to impress him, that isn't it. But, like when reading a novel, he finds a degree of unemotional happiness when life takes a turn he hadn't already anticipated five chapters ago, just as long as it doesn't spoil the rest of the story.*
Very interesting. You may make our time together worthwhile yet, Mr. Snape.
If Professor Dumbledore didn't appreciate you overhearing what this fortune teller had to tell him and swore you to secrecy for the price of your life, how were you able to carry out the rest of your mission unnoticed?
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