Tomorrow

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Xoxoxoxoxo

Mystery Man

xoxoxoxoxo

Harry sat and stared into the fire, too stunned to speak after the revelations of his mentors. Ron and Hermione held hands, supporting each other.

“It can’t be so. Dumbledore wouldn’t do something like that.” Harry now shook his head in negation. “No, I don’t believe it.”

Remus looked at Minerva before speaking. “Harry, if I were in your shoes I’d have a hard time believing this as well. If the information hadn’t been given to Minerva and I separately, I would probably still doubt it, but a time sealed letter from Gringotts is pretty much incontrovertible. Two letters delivered simultaneously to different people, pretty much seals the deal.”

“Why didn’t he tell me before… before...” Harry could not finish.

“We think he didn’t get the opportunity, Potter,” said Minerva quietly. “Draco’s move was a bit premature in Albus’ timetable.”

“I don’t think Draco made Severus privy to all his plans. At least, that’s what I garnered from the pensieve memory.” Remus fell silent, not sure how to continue, but Harry began to fill in the gaps.

“That night, when he left Slughorn’s party, Snape was trying to get information from Malfoy. Malfoy said he didn’t need help. He was angry Snape asked.” Harry started to work through the events of his last year at Hogwarts. “Hagrid heard Snape and Dumbledore arguing. Snape wanted out of something.” Harry continued. “He could have killed me, but he didn’t, and he stopped another Death Eater from torturing me… could it be?” Harry was more confused than ever.

“Harry, what ever else Severus Snape might be, he is a man of conviction. He feels deeply and he has a long memory. Those who did wrong by him will never be forgiven. By extension, you are your father and not worthy of his respect,” Remus advised. “However, Dumbledore accepted Severus and offered him a means to personal redemption.” He regarded the young man closely before continuing. “Part of the means was to keep you safe. A painful dichotomy, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I had always believed that he was tasked with your safety, Harry. What happened to Dumbledore shook that belief, but now you say it was true, he was on our side.” She looked at the elders hopefully.

“Yes,” replied Lupin. “Albus’ always had the Unbreakable Vow with Severus and only the Bonder would have known.”

“Who was the bonder?” asked Hermione.

“We don’t know,” replied McGonagall.

“How long have you both known?” asked Ron, still looking doubtful of what he’d been told.

Minerva looked down at her hands which were fiddling with a handkerchief. Lupin looked into the fire without speaking.

Harry looked at both of them. “Well, how long have you known?”

Remus took a deep breath. “Actually, we were sent the letters two days after Albus’ funereal.”

“Two days! You mean you’ve known all this time?” Harry stood and began to pace. “You’ve let me feel this anger inside all this time...” He turned and looked at them once more. “I hated Snape as much as I have hated Voldemort. I was having a hard time deciding who to hex first when I met them. He ran his had through the ubiquitous mop of hair on his head. ‘Why? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Harry, as much as we’d like to believe everyone in the Order is loyal to our cause, there have been leaks. We don’t know who,” said Lupin. “It was better to keep the information to ourselves rather than put Severus’ position at risk any more than it already is.”

“Why are you telling us now, then?” asked Ron.

“Severus sent his Patronus to us telling us about the woman named Prince last night. He’s going to try and get her out,” Lupin revealed. “He doesn’t yet know when, but he’s also trying to get some others out at the same time.”

“Of course you understand there must be no mention of this to anyone outside this room. Not even your family, Ron,” warned Lupin.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” replied Ron, who looked unusually thoughtful.

‘Professor, has prof... Snape passed any other information along to you? Perhaps something that made no particular sense at the time,” asked Hermione.

Lupin reached into his jacket and pulled out a packet of envelopes which he passed to Harry. “Perhaps if you were to read the letters yourselves you might discover what you are looking for.”

Harry took the letters and sat back down. “I suppose we should read them here.”

Minerva rose. “That would be best. We’ll leave you alone then, shall we?” She led the way to the door followed by Lupin.

“I’ll ward the door to keep the others out,” said Lupin, and then closed the door behind him.

Oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Snape contemplated the dishevelled woman sitting by the fireplace. If a Creevey brother were still alive, they could have captured a photo and published it as an illustration for Cinderella... if they were still alive. Alive.

He sat at the table to wait while the soup continued to heat. He wanted most ardently to question this woman on her roots – his roots. Why did fate throw her into his path now, of all times? Why couldn’t they have met by accident in Hogsmeade? Then again, he wouldn’t have given her a second look - well, perhaps he might have, but she would have looked away from him, just like all the others.

“I think the soup may be warm enough now.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke, merely continued to stir with the long-handled ladle.

Snape brought a large bowl with him to the pot and used a pothook to pull the crane towards him. He took the ladle from her and dished out a generous helping of tomato soup for himself. There was still a fair amount left in the pot, which she noticed. He hadn’t brought a bowl for her, so she returned to her previous pose of leaning on the ingle and studying the flames. The chain attached to her manacle rattled when she reached to scratch an itch in her ear.

When he returned to his chair at the table, Snape continued to study her. He had to be careful. If his Master were to have her brought before him, she would have to show the proper level of respect, no, make that fear. Treating her kindly, no, wrong word... with consideration, yes that was it. Treating her with consideration would be considered a weakness. For now, she would need to maintain a healthy dose of dread in her daily dealings with him. He would need to keep her unbalanced.

“Did you eat your crust, woman? I despise waste,” he told her curtly.

Caitlin glanced back, and then quickly averted her eyes. “I... I dropped it into the hearth, sir. It got burned.” She waited for his wrath to descend, hearing the chair scrape the floor as he stood. His footsteps came closer and she closed her eyes anticipating his punishment.

“If you lost the crust, then you’d best make do with this.”

Caitlin opened her eyes and saw a bowl, spoon and thick slice of bread held out before her. She looked up into the inscrutable eyes of her jailor, confused by his actions. She reached out and took the proffered items. “Thank you, sir. You’re most kind.”

Snape laughed quietly at her gratitude. This woman had been conditioned to subservience long before she’d fallen into his hands. “Don’t waste anything this time.”

Caitlin served herself a modest portion of soup and ate reservedly, not wanting to let him know she was famished. The spare meal restored her however, and she felt warmer having had the soup.

A short time later, Snape took the soup bowl from her and used his wand to clean the dishes. The soup went into the larder with a Preserving charm upon it to keep it fresh. He returned to the other room to work, leaving Caitlin alone once more.

Boredom and weariness overtook her, making her feel drowsy. She twice almost fell off the stool and finally decided to sit on the floor with her back to the wall. At some point she must have nodded off asleep, because when next she remembered, it was daylight and the room was freezing, the fire having gone out. Snape was sleeping in the bed that was tucked into an alcove. It had been covered by heavy curtains before. It appeared he was still sleeping soundly, if the snores were any measure of his slumber.

Caitlin pushed herself up and stretched. She began to pace the short distance allowed by her chain. The links clinked together sounding very loud in the quiet room. She then knew she needed the euphemistically titled convenience and looked for the bucket. It was sitting in the corner where Snape had left it the night before, just out of reach. Looking around, she found the pothook. She took it and lay down on the floor, stretching both arms out from her sides. As much as she strained, she still could not hook the bucket to pull it towards her. She gave one final stretch and dropped the hook with a loud bang.

“What are you doing?” demanded Snape from behind her.

Caitlin turned and looked over her shoulder to find the wizard, wearing a greyed nightshirt and holey socks, pointing a wand in her direction.

“I have to go. I needed the, ah, convenience.” She didn’t move from her place on the floor.

Snape dropped the offending wand and ran a hand through his matted hair. He jammed his feet into his boots that had been left beside the bed and walked towards her, pulled her up from the floor and then grabbed his cloak.

“So do I and I go first.” He vanished the manacle and chain before dragging her out to the outhouse.

He entered the convenience, leaving her outside where she shivered in the morning wind. She saw the house had been built on the side of a hill. Further down the slope, she saw a brook wending its way to a river in the valley below. There were trees growing in a sporadic pattern around the house. Caitlin thought it must have been pretty in the summer. An old walled garden sat off to the side, neglected and barren. It didn’t look like Scotland – it didn’t feel like Scotland.

“All right, make it quick,” said Snape, holding the door open.

Caitlin was thankful she didn’t have to use the bucket, but wondered why a wizard would choose this rather than make a comfortable magical alternative in the house.

She had little time to think as Snape set her the task of making breakfast after he lit the fire. She did her best with some coaching and snide comments on her abilities from her captor, but the porridge and toast with tea were acceptable.

When they’d finished, Caitlin fiddled with her mug, not wanting to look up at Snape.

“Why didn’t you carry a wand?” asked Snape suddenly.

“I told you, my grandfather wouldn’t let me,” she replied.

“Why would he prevent you from having that possession which is most important to those who are magically gifted? Are you so incompetent that it makes you dangerous?” he asked.

“No!” she declared. “No, not for that reason. He... It’s a long story.” Caitlin fiddled with her cup once more.

“What were your father and grandfather’s names?”

Caitlin wondered why he was curious, but talking was better than silence. “My father was Jacob Prince. He was the only son of my Grandfather, Brendan Prince.”

“The names are unusual for Wizards in Scotland or England. Where were they from originally? Why did they come, if they were not native-born.”

“They came from Ireland. My father said grandfather and his brother moved to make money in England selling potions and creating new spells. At the time, there was a great demand. My father was young.” Caitlin wondered why he was so curious.

Snape contained his surprise. “What was your great uncle’s name?”

“I was told it was Liam.”

“You were told – you mean you never met him?” Snape knew he was getting closer to an answer to a question he’d had for many years.

Caitlin shook her head. “No, I never met anyone from that side of the family. It was forbidden to speak of them.” She paused wondering how to continue. “There was some huge disagreement about how things should be – how wizards should live – long before I was born. The two brothers stopped speaking to each other when my father was just a boy.”

Snape took a deep breath. This was more than his mother had ever told him. “Where did your father attend school?”

“Durmstrang,” she replied. “My grandfather disagreed with the policy of Hogwart’s to allow Muggleborns to attend.”

“And your mother?”

“Beauxbaton’s., she was from Sark. From what she told me, she didn’t go there for very long.”

“How then did they meet each other?” asked Snape, eager to further his knowledge.

Caitlin shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure, but I believe the Prince family was looking to align themselves with a Wizarding family of similar beliefs. I think it might have been arranged.”

“What kind of beliefs would have caused a rift of this nature? Most families I know are quite close, unless...” he paused remembering Sirius Black. “Did the two brothers disagree over the fundamental practise of the magic arts?”

Caitlin looked at him closely. His questioning had become almost urgent sounding. “Yes. From what my father told me, his uncle was a staunch supporter of Grindelwald and wanted the rest of the family to follow him as well. My grandfather disagreed.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Snape said, more to himself than her. “Did he tell you anything at all about his uncle’s family? Did he have children? Is he still alive?”

Caitlin knew then he was desperate for information. “Why are you asking all these questions about my family? I told you we’re not wealthy.”

Snape banged his mug of tea down on the table suddenly, making her jump. “You’re forgetting your position again woman. If you don’t cooperate, you can go back to your chain.”

“I’m sorry, I just... as far as I know, his uncle is dead. He told me he had a cousin. A girl.” She looked up at him and saw a strange look pass quickly over his face. The same one she’d seen when she had revealed her name.

“Do you know her name?”

“I think he said it was Aileen or Eileen...” She watched him as he suddenly stood up and turned away. “She was the first Prince to attend Hogwarts and the first female in the Prince family to actually finish school. I remember my father was rather pleased at that.”

“Why?” asked Snape at the curious comment she’d made. He watched as she stared at her hands, a look of anger crossing her face. It was not directed at him however.

“It wasn’t deemed necessary for women to be educated above the minimum required to do housework in the Prince family. It kept them in their place, firmly under the thumb of the Prince men.” She had sounded resentful when saying this, but continued on in a softer voice. “I think that’s why she went to Hogwarts. They don’t really teach the Dark Arts there.”

“True,” he replied, “but the true Dark Arts are passed on in families as traditions and they are passed from parent to child,” he remarked, quietly.

He’d told her the last part in such a pensive tone; she knew he’d been talking about himself.

“Is that how you learnt, from your parents?”

He spun back on her. “Again, you forget yourself. Do not question me!” He pulled out his wand and cleared the table of the breakfast things then pointed it at her. “You will be called before He Who Must Not Be Named. It would be wise to stay on my good side. I can make it easier for you. Do you understand?”

Caitlin nodded. “Yes.”

Snape grabbed his cloak. “I will be gone most of the day. You may eat anything you can find in the larder. There is water in the ewer over there.” He shared a snide smile with her and added, “You needn’t think you can leave, for the doors and windows are well warded. Oh, and you will have to use the indoor convenience after all.” He indicated with his thumb the bucket in the corner then banged the door closed.

Caitlin looked at the door for a moment then stood and walked to the bed alcove. She was confused by this man, afraid of him, of course, but he seemed almost vulnerable to her at times. All in all a mystery best pondered while taking time for a long nap upon the vacant bed.