A/N Here it is folks - the final chapter of 'When in Rome'. Phew! Now this is finished, I plan to get on with the numerous other unfinished stories in the bunch...
Many, many thanks to every single one of you for reading and reviewing, and of course, thanks to my beta Amy, who never fails to say exactly the right things to make me feel good about my writing, as well as providing priceless technical assistance :-)
As always a part of me is sorry this particular ride is over, especially since most of the fics I have to work on now are rather dark...
But anyway, enough of my babbling - on with the show!
Chapter Eight
The Mont-Streppings finally tired of poking Snape's motionless body, and left. Minerva, hovering in the 'drawing room' out of sight of the cellar door, watched as the pair laughed their way through to what she assumed to be a bedroom. It was now or never - Minerva had no inclination to wait for the Mont-Streppings to disrobe before she made her move. Darting out of the room, clutching her wand (still in umbrella form) to her, she darted down the hall and flung open the bedroom door.
The Mont-Streppings were in some sort of revolting clinch - Octavian had his jacket off - and their momentary distraction plus their chronic stupidity was more than enough to allow Minerva to execute a rapid *accio*! The Mont-Streppings' wands hurtled towards her and she caught them neatly.
"Where is it?" She demanded.
"Whu...wha...ha...er..." Octavian seemed completely gobsmacked. It was a pleasure to watch him fumble for the words to express his own dimwittedness.
"You're...you're a witch!" Gasped Agatha.
"Very good." McGonagall growled back, sounding remarkably like Snape. "My name, *dear* Aggie, is Minerva McGonagall. I am deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I feel I can say with complete assurance that I have never met a witch or wizard, of any age or from *any* background, who was quite so stupid as you two."
Octavian was twitching.
"You...you bint!" He squeaked. McGonagall advanced on him slowly.
"Sticks and stones, Octavian - but you don't have any of those left. Where is the list?"
"In...in..."
"Don't tell her!" Wailed Aggie.
"Where is it?" Repeated Minerva, calmly.
"No! No!"
"Octavian. I am an expert in Transfiguration. Turning you into a cream donut and forcing your fat wife to eat you would be a matter of utter simplicity to me." Minerva smiled to herself and thanked all those hours she had spent bickering with Severus. She had to admit that the man had a wonderful technique when it came to intimidation.
"Octy! I don't want to eat you!" Agatha moaned.
McGonagall pointed her umbrella at Octavian.
"You have five seconds to decide. Five..."
"We can't tell!"
"Four..."
"We won't!"
"Three..."
"Agh!"
"Two..."
"Please! Mercy! We only want to give the list to the Dark Lord so we can return to his circle with glory. You can understand that, can't you?"
"Time's up."
"Nooooo!"
"Give it to her! Give it to her! Give it to her!" Chanted Agatha hysterically. McGonagall held out her hand. Octavian, trembling, opened the top drawer of his bedside table and fished out a rather grubby bit of parchment.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?" He muttered. And ate it. McGonagall stared at him in disbelief.
"I've memorised every name on that list! I will take my information to His Greatness and live a life of glorious evil!" Octavian declaimed.
"Stop blathering and tell me the names on that list, or I'll do worse to you that turn you into a pastry, Mont-Strepping."
Octavian shook his head.
"Never! And if you don't leave, we'll..."
"You'll what?"
"We'll..."
"I'm waiting."
"Well..."
"Just give me the names and I'll restrain my desire to turn you both into beetles and crush you."
"Never!"
"Never!"
"Fine. I'm going to enjoy this." She raised her wand again. Behold Octavian the beetle.
"Ooh!" Aggie moaned. "Octy! Octy, can you hear me?"
The beetle - a rather fat and dim looking member of the species - began scuttling in frantic circles. McGonagall placed her right foot above the scurrying creature.
"Noooo!" Wailed Agatha.
"I'm offering you a chance to save your husband. What was on that list?"
"All right! All right, I'll tell you."
McGonagall lowered her foot, grabbed a glass from the bedside table, and put it upside down over Octavian-beetle.
"You have five minutes." She told Agatha.
There was a pause.
"I can't remember." Mont-Strepping femme replied.
"Jog your memory quickly." Growled McGonagall.
"All right!" And Agatha reeled off a list of names. McGonagall eyed her narrowly, then swiftly scooped up the trapped beetle and held it before its wife's bulging eyes.
"I threatened to make you eat him, Agatha..."
"No!"
"Give me the real names, now, and I'll go away and leave you both in peace."
"You...won't hurt us?"
"I'm not a barbarian. All I want is what I came for."
"But...don't you want revenge?"
"For what?"
"Your husband!"
"Severus Snape is most certainly not my husband." Replied Minerva firmly.
Agatha whimpered.
"Very well." She hissed, eyeing McGonagall hatefully.
Five minutes later, Minerva left the Mont-Streppings' bedroom with a sheet of notepaper, on which she had transcribed the names Agatha had eventually given, and with which her husband had separately concurred. The pair were hardly intelligent enough to concoct a consistent list of false names to be used during questioning. Minerva opened the cellar easily from the outside and made her way carefully down the steps.
Snape was sprawled in a heap of beige and blood, motionless, his black hair falling over his face. Minerva leaned over him, smoothed the hair - wiping her hand on her dress afterwards - gently pulled him into a position in which he was not lying on his damaged arm, and pointing her umbrella at him, muttered an enervating charm. Snape mumbled and twitched. McGonagall slapped his face gently.
"Wake up, come on now."
"Hmmm?"
"Wake up, Severus! I have the information we need. Come on!"
Grumbling, Snape allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position. He offered Minerva a sleepy scowl.
"It worked then." He muttered.
"Yes. Perfectly. Because they thought I was a Muggle, they never suspected that I could attack them. But it was a gamble on your part - what if they'd decided to do dreadful things to your 'corpse'?"
"It was far less likely than them doing dreadful things to me while alive." He replied crisply, getting slowly to his feet, and stretching. "Ouch!"
"Oh, you arm - here, let me..." The wand was employed once more. Not being an expert in magical medicine, Minerva had cast a simple analgesic charm and fixed the arm in place until it could be properly mended.
"Thanks." Snape said shortly, looking down at the limb. "Now - what do we do about *that*?" He pointed to the Serpent Spyglass, which they had covered over once more before the Mont-Streppings' final entry into the cellar.
"I can't believe," remarked Minerva, "that even those two could be so stupid as to have the spyglass in their cellar, and not know about it. I think they found it here while house-hunting, or something, and were biding their time to make a gift of it to Voldemort."
"Agreed."
"In which case, there is only one option."
"I know..." Snape removed the covering and gazed wistfully into the glass. Dumbledore could be seen at his desk, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he went through some papers.
"Over a thousand years old..." the potions master sighed.
"Don't make personal remarks!" Minerva admonished.
"I meant the glass, woman!" He snapped, thoroughly awake now. "But I suppose I we must destroy it, we may as well get it over with..." taking his wand From McGonagall - she had fetched it from the umbrella stand along with hers - he aimed it reluctantly at the glass. Before he could say anything, however, a sudden, violent tapping drifted down to the cellar.
"What's that?" Snape hissed.
"Somebody at the front door." Replied Minerva, anxiously.
"What have you done with the Mont-Streppings? Are they in any state to answer?"
"I used a memory charm. They won't recall anything about you being a spy for Dumbledore, or about the list, or about the spyglass."
"Then we'll just leave it and hope whoever it is doesn't investigate further."
The knocking continued unabated, however, and after a few minutes a voice could be heard shouting,
"Octavian! Octavian, come out of there!"
Snape visibly paled.
"Oh Merlin." He muttered. "It's Malfoy."
"Lucius Malfoy?"
"The same. I'd recognise that voice anywhere."
"Octavian!" This time a female voice.
"Narcissa!" Snape almost groaned.
"What are they doing here?" Demanded McGonagall.
"I'd bet a thousand Galleons it isn't a social call. They're here for the list, or the glass, probably both."
"The Mont-Streppings must have been expecting them. If no one comes to the door...Severus, we must do something immediately."
Snape rubbed his chin, apparently on the horns of a dilemma. He shook his head, then abruptly grabbed Minerva by the shoulders.
"If they send me to Azkaban will you come to visit me?"
"Severus...what are you going to do?"
"There's no choice." He ran up the steps. "Where are they?"
"The bedroom...what are you planning?"
"It's better if you don't know. Or at least pretend not to notice." Snape threw open the bedroom door. The Mont-Streppings lay side by side, unconscious, upon the bed. Snape grabbed Octavian and shook him violently.
"Wake up, you git!"
"Er...what...who...eh?"
"Imperio!" Snape cried.
McGonagall gasped.
"Severus, that's an unforgivable curse!"
"I've done a lot of unforgivable things. I've always been forgiven before" Was the dry response.
Controlling the cursed Mont-Strepping as easily as a puppet, Snape directed him to the front door. The two professors slipped back down to the cellar, leaving the trapdoor open to listen to the conversation going on above.
"Octavian. Finally! We've come for the merchandise." The spine-tingling voice of Lucius Malfoy sounded clearly in the cellar.
"Merchandise? Oh. I'm afraid there's been a problem with that, ha ha ha!"
"Problem?" Hissed Malfoy.
"Problem?" Echoed Narcissa's bloodcurdling purr.
"Yes, ha ha ha, the truth is I'm a dimwitted git with less intellect than a dead goat, ha ha ha..."
"Severus!" Admonished Minerva, softly. Snape shrugged.
"So you see, ha ha ha, we no longer have the list."
"What!?"
"We lost it. Burnt it. Accidentally of course. Ha ha ha..."
"And the glass?" Demanded Malfoy.
"Glass...?"
"Oh, get out of the way, imbecile!"
"Ha ha ha..."
Pounding footsteps coming closer.
"He's coming down here!" Minerva exclaimed.
"Nowhere to hide. We'll have to kill him."
"That's your answer to everything." Muttered McGonagall. "There's a better way. Do you trust me?"
"Ah...can I consider that for a while?"
"We don't have time!"
"Very well. Yes, I trust you."
"Good. Close your eyes and relax."
"What are you..." but Snape was cut off in mid-sentence by a flash from Minerva's wand, and a moment later, Snape-the-fox sat looking bewildered on the cold stone floor. Minerva quickly transfigured herself, and dragged Snape-fox into a dark corner behind a pile of old cardboard boxes.
It was not a moment too soon. Lucius Malfoy stalked into the cellar, followed by Narcissa, who wrinkled her perfect nose at the dank smell. Lucius approached the wall on which the Serpent Spyglass was mounted, smirking triumphantly. In the corner, Minerva-cat tensed, preparing to employ the element of surprise to its full advantage, when Malfoy gave a sudden roar of rage.
"It's gone!"
"Gone?" Narcissa sashayed over. "Where is it?" She wondered, not sounding especially bothered.
"How should I know? Where's Mont-Strepping?"
"Lukey, Lukey." Soothed Narcissa. "It isn't Octavian's fault. The Spyglass must have been relocated."
"And who could have done that? There are only handful of pureblood Slytherin wizards in the country who might have been able to use the Spyglass. And all of them are working for us - I mean, for the Dark Lord."
"Sevvy could do it." Purred Narcissa, dreamily. McGonagall-cat shot a half-amused glance at Snape-fox, who buried his nose in his paws.
"He *could*, " agreed Malfoy, "but he doesn't know anything about the Spyglass. Voldemort does not trust him sufficiently yet for that. He wouldn't have known how to activate it, much less relocate it. And besides...I have complete faith in Severus."
"Ooh, so do I...he's so sinewy."
"Yes...true." Murmured Malfoy. Snape-fox gave a small unhappy whine; McGonagall-cat poked him with a paw to shut him up.
"We should return to the Dark Lord immediately and report this development." Declared Lucius. "As for your foul relations...we'll see what Voldemort makes of them!"
With that dramatic statement, 'Lukey' and 'Cissy' departed. McGonagall-cat crept carefully out of her corner, followed by a dazed-looking fox-Snape. Sure that the coast was clear, Minerva transfigured, and looked down thoughtfully at the animal at her feet. It was a small, sleek, red fox, with a twisted front leg, and Snape's glittering black eyes.
"I always suspected that had you become an animagus, you might have been a fox." Minerva mused. "I have an instinct for such things."
The fox sat up on its hind legs and gave her what could only be a canine glare. Minerva reached down to fondle the velvety head. Snape-fox snarled meaningfully.
"Oh, I'm sorry..." a swift spell, and Severus Snape stood before her, looking annoyed.
"Next time you Transfigure me into an animal, McGonagall, do give me some notice."
"I beg your pardon. There wasn't much alternative."
"Hmph." Snape wandered over to examine empty space which the Spyglass had occupied. "At least this means the Dark Lord has not been spying on us - obviously no one believed the Glass to be active."
"Well then, you must have activated it."
"I suppose so...from what Malfoy said, I doubt the Mont-Streppings could have done so by themselves. But how could I activate the device without even realising it? I hadn't even got my wand."
"What exactly did you do, when we first discovered the glass?"
Snape thought.
"I did nothing except uncover it." He replied, after a moment.
It was McGonagall's turn to ponder.
"You told me," she mused, "that Salazar Slytherin set up the Spyglass so that only those he considered worthy of the legacy could use it - his own heir, presumably, and any Slytherin headmaster or mistress of Hogwarts."
"True."
"Well...obviously being the head of Slytherin House must count, especially since there have been no Slytherin headmasters."
"There's still time. Perhaps it's foreshadowing." Suggested Snape, with a smirk.
"Not in my lifetime." Came the smart response. "The point I'm making," McGonagall continued, "is that possibly someone 'worthy' of the Spyglass wouldn't need to *do* anything to operate it - it would just happen, naturally. You said Slytherin was a genius; he would have been more than capable of such magic."
"You're suggesting that the Spyglass has a form of rudimentary artificial intelligence? That it responded to my subconscious commands?"
McGonagall nodded. There was silence for a moment.
"At the time we discovered it," admitted Snape eventually, "I wanted nothing more than to be at Hogwarts, with Albus. The Spyglass showed me Albus, relaxed and safe in his office. And when I desired that Lucius Malfoy should not find it, he did not, against all logic. Is that how it works? And if so, it would suggest that this device is far cleverer and more dangerous than we previously believed."
"How so?"
"The Glass was able to show me Albus; according to legend, this was because Slytherin placed a transmitter in Gryffindor's office. But isn't it rather unlikely that after a thousand years no one would have found it? I suggest that, to the small number of people capable of using it, the Spyglass can use *any* mirror, anywhere, as a transmitter."
"Merlin!" Exclaimed McGonagall, astonished. "Then it certainly must never fall into Voldemort's hands!"
"I agree. The problem is - how do we find it again? If it has relocated, where would it have gone?"
"Perhaps you commanded it to destroy itself."
"Possibly. We may never know...in fact, let us hope that we never do."
The Hideyhole, Muggle London, 8p.m
"Well? What do you think?"
McGonagall pirouetted in a dignified way, the better to show off the glimmering green dress she wore. Her hair was down, splayed across her shoulders. She looked almost - Romany.
"Perfect." Snape told her. He was wearing a dinner jacket, and appeared far more comfortable in black than he had in the grotesque - and completely ruined - beige suit.
"I'm glad you like it."
"So - where is this fancy restaurant we're supposed to be going to?"
"Did I say we were going to a restaurant?"
"Well - you said 'dinner' and told me to wear this penguin suit, so I assumed..."
"It isn't far."
"Oh?"
"In fact...step through."
Snape followed her into the lounge, puzzled. And froze.
"Do you like it?" Minerva asked, softly.
The lounge had been converted into a dining room. It looked far bigger. In the centre, a table was set for two. A single candle was the only light in the room, apart from moonlight, which poured through the window.
"Amazing." Murmured Snape. "But why?"
"I just thought we deserved something a little special for our last night as muggles - our last night as husband and wife." She drew out a chair. "Sit down."
He sat, looking a little uncomfortable. Correctly guessing the source of his discomfort, McGonagall smiled.
"Don't worry - I didn't cook. I used caterers."
"Ah. Er...good."
The meal was excellent. They sat together talking for some time afterwards, drinking red wine in the moonlight.
"I'm glad we did this. I've enjoyed this evening." Snape remarked, after a while. Minerva smiled at him.
"So have I. I almost wish..."
"What?"
"Nothing, Severus. It doesn't matter."
Many, many thanks to every single one of you for reading and reviewing, and of course, thanks to my beta Amy, who never fails to say exactly the right things to make me feel good about my writing, as well as providing priceless technical assistance :-)
As always a part of me is sorry this particular ride is over, especially since most of the fics I have to work on now are rather dark...
But anyway, enough of my babbling - on with the show!
Chapter Eight
The Mont-Streppings finally tired of poking Snape's motionless body, and left. Minerva, hovering in the 'drawing room' out of sight of the cellar door, watched as the pair laughed their way through to what she assumed to be a bedroom. It was now or never - Minerva had no inclination to wait for the Mont-Streppings to disrobe before she made her move. Darting out of the room, clutching her wand (still in umbrella form) to her, she darted down the hall and flung open the bedroom door.
The Mont-Streppings were in some sort of revolting clinch - Octavian had his jacket off - and their momentary distraction plus their chronic stupidity was more than enough to allow Minerva to execute a rapid *accio*! The Mont-Streppings' wands hurtled towards her and she caught them neatly.
"Where is it?" She demanded.
"Whu...wha...ha...er..." Octavian seemed completely gobsmacked. It was a pleasure to watch him fumble for the words to express his own dimwittedness.
"You're...you're a witch!" Gasped Agatha.
"Very good." McGonagall growled back, sounding remarkably like Snape. "My name, *dear* Aggie, is Minerva McGonagall. I am deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I feel I can say with complete assurance that I have never met a witch or wizard, of any age or from *any* background, who was quite so stupid as you two."
Octavian was twitching.
"You...you bint!" He squeaked. McGonagall advanced on him slowly.
"Sticks and stones, Octavian - but you don't have any of those left. Where is the list?"
"In...in..."
"Don't tell her!" Wailed Aggie.
"Where is it?" Repeated Minerva, calmly.
"No! No!"
"Octavian. I am an expert in Transfiguration. Turning you into a cream donut and forcing your fat wife to eat you would be a matter of utter simplicity to me." Minerva smiled to herself and thanked all those hours she had spent bickering with Severus. She had to admit that the man had a wonderful technique when it came to intimidation.
"Octy! I don't want to eat you!" Agatha moaned.
McGonagall pointed her umbrella at Octavian.
"You have five seconds to decide. Five..."
"We can't tell!"
"Four..."
"We won't!"
"Three..."
"Agh!"
"Two..."
"Please! Mercy! We only want to give the list to the Dark Lord so we can return to his circle with glory. You can understand that, can't you?"
"Time's up."
"Nooooo!"
"Give it to her! Give it to her! Give it to her!" Chanted Agatha hysterically. McGonagall held out her hand. Octavian, trembling, opened the top drawer of his bedside table and fished out a rather grubby bit of parchment.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it?" He muttered. And ate it. McGonagall stared at him in disbelief.
"I've memorised every name on that list! I will take my information to His Greatness and live a life of glorious evil!" Octavian declaimed.
"Stop blathering and tell me the names on that list, or I'll do worse to you that turn you into a pastry, Mont-Strepping."
Octavian shook his head.
"Never! And if you don't leave, we'll..."
"You'll what?"
"We'll..."
"I'm waiting."
"Well..."
"Just give me the names and I'll restrain my desire to turn you both into beetles and crush you."
"Never!"
"Never!"
"Fine. I'm going to enjoy this." She raised her wand again. Behold Octavian the beetle.
"Ooh!" Aggie moaned. "Octy! Octy, can you hear me?"
The beetle - a rather fat and dim looking member of the species - began scuttling in frantic circles. McGonagall placed her right foot above the scurrying creature.
"Noooo!" Wailed Agatha.
"I'm offering you a chance to save your husband. What was on that list?"
"All right! All right, I'll tell you."
McGonagall lowered her foot, grabbed a glass from the bedside table, and put it upside down over Octavian-beetle.
"You have five minutes." She told Agatha.
There was a pause.
"I can't remember." Mont-Strepping femme replied.
"Jog your memory quickly." Growled McGonagall.
"All right!" And Agatha reeled off a list of names. McGonagall eyed her narrowly, then swiftly scooped up the trapped beetle and held it before its wife's bulging eyes.
"I threatened to make you eat him, Agatha..."
"No!"
"Give me the real names, now, and I'll go away and leave you both in peace."
"You...won't hurt us?"
"I'm not a barbarian. All I want is what I came for."
"But...don't you want revenge?"
"For what?"
"Your husband!"
"Severus Snape is most certainly not my husband." Replied Minerva firmly.
Agatha whimpered.
"Very well." She hissed, eyeing McGonagall hatefully.
Five minutes later, Minerva left the Mont-Streppings' bedroom with a sheet of notepaper, on which she had transcribed the names Agatha had eventually given, and with which her husband had separately concurred. The pair were hardly intelligent enough to concoct a consistent list of false names to be used during questioning. Minerva opened the cellar easily from the outside and made her way carefully down the steps.
Snape was sprawled in a heap of beige and blood, motionless, his black hair falling over his face. Minerva leaned over him, smoothed the hair - wiping her hand on her dress afterwards - gently pulled him into a position in which he was not lying on his damaged arm, and pointing her umbrella at him, muttered an enervating charm. Snape mumbled and twitched. McGonagall slapped his face gently.
"Wake up, come on now."
"Hmmm?"
"Wake up, Severus! I have the information we need. Come on!"
Grumbling, Snape allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position. He offered Minerva a sleepy scowl.
"It worked then." He muttered.
"Yes. Perfectly. Because they thought I was a Muggle, they never suspected that I could attack them. But it was a gamble on your part - what if they'd decided to do dreadful things to your 'corpse'?"
"It was far less likely than them doing dreadful things to me while alive." He replied crisply, getting slowly to his feet, and stretching. "Ouch!"
"Oh, you arm - here, let me..." The wand was employed once more. Not being an expert in magical medicine, Minerva had cast a simple analgesic charm and fixed the arm in place until it could be properly mended.
"Thanks." Snape said shortly, looking down at the limb. "Now - what do we do about *that*?" He pointed to the Serpent Spyglass, which they had covered over once more before the Mont-Streppings' final entry into the cellar.
"I can't believe," remarked Minerva, "that even those two could be so stupid as to have the spyglass in their cellar, and not know about it. I think they found it here while house-hunting, or something, and were biding their time to make a gift of it to Voldemort."
"Agreed."
"In which case, there is only one option."
"I know..." Snape removed the covering and gazed wistfully into the glass. Dumbledore could be seen at his desk, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he went through some papers.
"Over a thousand years old..." the potions master sighed.
"Don't make personal remarks!" Minerva admonished.
"I meant the glass, woman!" He snapped, thoroughly awake now. "But I suppose I we must destroy it, we may as well get it over with..." taking his wand From McGonagall - she had fetched it from the umbrella stand along with hers - he aimed it reluctantly at the glass. Before he could say anything, however, a sudden, violent tapping drifted down to the cellar.
"What's that?" Snape hissed.
"Somebody at the front door." Replied Minerva, anxiously.
"What have you done with the Mont-Streppings? Are they in any state to answer?"
"I used a memory charm. They won't recall anything about you being a spy for Dumbledore, or about the list, or about the spyglass."
"Then we'll just leave it and hope whoever it is doesn't investigate further."
The knocking continued unabated, however, and after a few minutes a voice could be heard shouting,
"Octavian! Octavian, come out of there!"
Snape visibly paled.
"Oh Merlin." He muttered. "It's Malfoy."
"Lucius Malfoy?"
"The same. I'd recognise that voice anywhere."
"Octavian!" This time a female voice.
"Narcissa!" Snape almost groaned.
"What are they doing here?" Demanded McGonagall.
"I'd bet a thousand Galleons it isn't a social call. They're here for the list, or the glass, probably both."
"The Mont-Streppings must have been expecting them. If no one comes to the door...Severus, we must do something immediately."
Snape rubbed his chin, apparently on the horns of a dilemma. He shook his head, then abruptly grabbed Minerva by the shoulders.
"If they send me to Azkaban will you come to visit me?"
"Severus...what are you going to do?"
"There's no choice." He ran up the steps. "Where are they?"
"The bedroom...what are you planning?"
"It's better if you don't know. Or at least pretend not to notice." Snape threw open the bedroom door. The Mont-Streppings lay side by side, unconscious, upon the bed. Snape grabbed Octavian and shook him violently.
"Wake up, you git!"
"Er...what...who...eh?"
"Imperio!" Snape cried.
McGonagall gasped.
"Severus, that's an unforgivable curse!"
"I've done a lot of unforgivable things. I've always been forgiven before" Was the dry response.
Controlling the cursed Mont-Strepping as easily as a puppet, Snape directed him to the front door. The two professors slipped back down to the cellar, leaving the trapdoor open to listen to the conversation going on above.
"Octavian. Finally! We've come for the merchandise." The spine-tingling voice of Lucius Malfoy sounded clearly in the cellar.
"Merchandise? Oh. I'm afraid there's been a problem with that, ha ha ha!"
"Problem?" Hissed Malfoy.
"Problem?" Echoed Narcissa's bloodcurdling purr.
"Yes, ha ha ha, the truth is I'm a dimwitted git with less intellect than a dead goat, ha ha ha..."
"Severus!" Admonished Minerva, softly. Snape shrugged.
"So you see, ha ha ha, we no longer have the list."
"What!?"
"We lost it. Burnt it. Accidentally of course. Ha ha ha..."
"And the glass?" Demanded Malfoy.
"Glass...?"
"Oh, get out of the way, imbecile!"
"Ha ha ha..."
Pounding footsteps coming closer.
"He's coming down here!" Minerva exclaimed.
"Nowhere to hide. We'll have to kill him."
"That's your answer to everything." Muttered McGonagall. "There's a better way. Do you trust me?"
"Ah...can I consider that for a while?"
"We don't have time!"
"Very well. Yes, I trust you."
"Good. Close your eyes and relax."
"What are you..." but Snape was cut off in mid-sentence by a flash from Minerva's wand, and a moment later, Snape-the-fox sat looking bewildered on the cold stone floor. Minerva quickly transfigured herself, and dragged Snape-fox into a dark corner behind a pile of old cardboard boxes.
It was not a moment too soon. Lucius Malfoy stalked into the cellar, followed by Narcissa, who wrinkled her perfect nose at the dank smell. Lucius approached the wall on which the Serpent Spyglass was mounted, smirking triumphantly. In the corner, Minerva-cat tensed, preparing to employ the element of surprise to its full advantage, when Malfoy gave a sudden roar of rage.
"It's gone!"
"Gone?" Narcissa sashayed over. "Where is it?" She wondered, not sounding especially bothered.
"How should I know? Where's Mont-Strepping?"
"Lukey, Lukey." Soothed Narcissa. "It isn't Octavian's fault. The Spyglass must have been relocated."
"And who could have done that? There are only handful of pureblood Slytherin wizards in the country who might have been able to use the Spyglass. And all of them are working for us - I mean, for the Dark Lord."
"Sevvy could do it." Purred Narcissa, dreamily. McGonagall-cat shot a half-amused glance at Snape-fox, who buried his nose in his paws.
"He *could*, " agreed Malfoy, "but he doesn't know anything about the Spyglass. Voldemort does not trust him sufficiently yet for that. He wouldn't have known how to activate it, much less relocate it. And besides...I have complete faith in Severus."
"Ooh, so do I...he's so sinewy."
"Yes...true." Murmured Malfoy. Snape-fox gave a small unhappy whine; McGonagall-cat poked him with a paw to shut him up.
"We should return to the Dark Lord immediately and report this development." Declared Lucius. "As for your foul relations...we'll see what Voldemort makes of them!"
With that dramatic statement, 'Lukey' and 'Cissy' departed. McGonagall-cat crept carefully out of her corner, followed by a dazed-looking fox-Snape. Sure that the coast was clear, Minerva transfigured, and looked down thoughtfully at the animal at her feet. It was a small, sleek, red fox, with a twisted front leg, and Snape's glittering black eyes.
"I always suspected that had you become an animagus, you might have been a fox." Minerva mused. "I have an instinct for such things."
The fox sat up on its hind legs and gave her what could only be a canine glare. Minerva reached down to fondle the velvety head. Snape-fox snarled meaningfully.
"Oh, I'm sorry..." a swift spell, and Severus Snape stood before her, looking annoyed.
"Next time you Transfigure me into an animal, McGonagall, do give me some notice."
"I beg your pardon. There wasn't much alternative."
"Hmph." Snape wandered over to examine empty space which the Spyglass had occupied. "At least this means the Dark Lord has not been spying on us - obviously no one believed the Glass to be active."
"Well then, you must have activated it."
"I suppose so...from what Malfoy said, I doubt the Mont-Streppings could have done so by themselves. But how could I activate the device without even realising it? I hadn't even got my wand."
"What exactly did you do, when we first discovered the glass?"
Snape thought.
"I did nothing except uncover it." He replied, after a moment.
It was McGonagall's turn to ponder.
"You told me," she mused, "that Salazar Slytherin set up the Spyglass so that only those he considered worthy of the legacy could use it - his own heir, presumably, and any Slytherin headmaster or mistress of Hogwarts."
"True."
"Well...obviously being the head of Slytherin House must count, especially since there have been no Slytherin headmasters."
"There's still time. Perhaps it's foreshadowing." Suggested Snape, with a smirk.
"Not in my lifetime." Came the smart response. "The point I'm making," McGonagall continued, "is that possibly someone 'worthy' of the Spyglass wouldn't need to *do* anything to operate it - it would just happen, naturally. You said Slytherin was a genius; he would have been more than capable of such magic."
"You're suggesting that the Spyglass has a form of rudimentary artificial intelligence? That it responded to my subconscious commands?"
McGonagall nodded. There was silence for a moment.
"At the time we discovered it," admitted Snape eventually, "I wanted nothing more than to be at Hogwarts, with Albus. The Spyglass showed me Albus, relaxed and safe in his office. And when I desired that Lucius Malfoy should not find it, he did not, against all logic. Is that how it works? And if so, it would suggest that this device is far cleverer and more dangerous than we previously believed."
"How so?"
"The Glass was able to show me Albus; according to legend, this was because Slytherin placed a transmitter in Gryffindor's office. But isn't it rather unlikely that after a thousand years no one would have found it? I suggest that, to the small number of people capable of using it, the Spyglass can use *any* mirror, anywhere, as a transmitter."
"Merlin!" Exclaimed McGonagall, astonished. "Then it certainly must never fall into Voldemort's hands!"
"I agree. The problem is - how do we find it again? If it has relocated, where would it have gone?"
"Perhaps you commanded it to destroy itself."
"Possibly. We may never know...in fact, let us hope that we never do."
The Hideyhole, Muggle London, 8p.m
"Well? What do you think?"
McGonagall pirouetted in a dignified way, the better to show off the glimmering green dress she wore. Her hair was down, splayed across her shoulders. She looked almost - Romany.
"Perfect." Snape told her. He was wearing a dinner jacket, and appeared far more comfortable in black than he had in the grotesque - and completely ruined - beige suit.
"I'm glad you like it."
"So - where is this fancy restaurant we're supposed to be going to?"
"Did I say we were going to a restaurant?"
"Well - you said 'dinner' and told me to wear this penguin suit, so I assumed..."
"It isn't far."
"Oh?"
"In fact...step through."
Snape followed her into the lounge, puzzled. And froze.
"Do you like it?" Minerva asked, softly.
The lounge had been converted into a dining room. It looked far bigger. In the centre, a table was set for two. A single candle was the only light in the room, apart from moonlight, which poured through the window.
"Amazing." Murmured Snape. "But why?"
"I just thought we deserved something a little special for our last night as muggles - our last night as husband and wife." She drew out a chair. "Sit down."
He sat, looking a little uncomfortable. Correctly guessing the source of his discomfort, McGonagall smiled.
"Don't worry - I didn't cook. I used caterers."
"Ah. Er...good."
The meal was excellent. They sat together talking for some time afterwards, drinking red wine in the moonlight.
"I'm glad we did this. I've enjoyed this evening." Snape remarked, after a while. Minerva smiled at him.
"So have I. I almost wish..."
"What?"
"Nothing, Severus. It doesn't matter."