That morning, as Snape entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he overheard snippets of a muffled conversation between Dumbledore and McGonagall. It was still very early and only a few students were at the tables, but тАУ curiously тАУ most of the staff had already assembled.
"Don't be ridiculousтАж go mad when he hearsтАж not to show it to him hereтАж students in the crossfireтАж" McGonagall's voice was low, but her anxiety was apparent.
Dumbledore tutted at her reassuringly. "тАжgrown manтАж. take it like an adultтАж well-controlled emotionsтАж confident he'll be fineтАж"
"Oh, Severus," Hooch called over sweetly. "Seen today's Prophet?"
"Why?" he asked suspiciously, noticing how all the other faculty seemed to cower away from him.
"Thought you might find this interesting." Hooch levitated a copy of the paper over to him, and the rest of the staff table whispered hasty Protegos.
Snape read the lead story and went first white, then red. "Er, Severus my boy," Dumbledore began uncertainly, his confidence abruptly waning at the expression on the Potion Master's face. "Please do not let this тАУ"
Snape's full goblet of pumpkin juice missed the Headmaster's ear by mere inches. "THAT MISERABLE BASTARD!"
The students in the Hall stared, eyes huge, as their normally icy professor threw platters of food and drink around the Hall while the rest of the faculty ducked for cover under the table.
A few house elves popped in to remonstrate with whoever was wasting food in this fashion, but one glance at Snape's countenance and they instantly vanished. Only after he had entirely cleared the staff table of food, shredded Hooch's copy of the Prophet, and stomped on the remains, did Snape's furious shouting come to an end. Heads tentatively popped out from under tables as the man took a deep breath, straightened his robes, and stalked from the room.
McGonagall transformed back from her feline form, in which she had cowered underneath Hagrid's broad torso, and turned to eye the Headmaster, her smug expression proclaiming "I told you so". Dumbledore sighed and looked at the wreckage of the Great Hall. "Well, that could have gone a bit better," he admitted sadly.
Back in his quarters, Snape threw himself into a chair with a huff. That idiot Black! How dare he improvise his own lines? Those remarks about chocolate and Swiss women? He'd be lucky if the locals didn't string him up by his тАУ Hmmm. Snape's lips quirked into a smile. Actually, would that be so terrible after all?
He forced his mind away from such pleasant mental images and once again scanned his own copy of the Prophet. Yes, the press release he'd written had been used by the Swiss president practically verbatim. It was amazing what the promise of a generous contribution to a campaign could do. The Swiss were always soтАж business-likeтАж about such things. And of course the man had been dying for the opportunity to repay Fudge for that love potion stunt. Snape smirked. It always paid to stay up to date on international politics, and after keeping track of the dizzying maelstrom of the adolescent grudges at Hogwarts, it was surprisingly easy to track diplomatic enmities. They were quite sedate by comparison to the ever-changing alliances of hormonal teenagers.
He rolled his eyes, remembering how flabbergasted Lupin and Black had been at the suggestion they go abroad. Seeking allies outside of Britain had apparently never entered their little minds. "Do you imagine that Voldemort is hanging around Godric's Hollow or the Forbidden Forest?" he had demanded, nearly pulling out his hair in frustration over their incomprehension. "He is surely long gone from Britain тАУ seeking new allies and recovering his strength. You need to do the same!"
"I won't act like some Slytherin Dark Lord!" Black had snapped, outraged at the suggestion.
"Fine. Stay here and end up as a soulless shell, you nitwit!" Snape snarled. "I expect Fudge will mount Lupin's head on his wall once the axeman gets through with him."
Sirius had frozen, stricken at the thought of Lupin facing execution for aiding him, and much of his opposition had melted away. "Well, why Switzerland?" he sulked. "It's cold there. Why not somewhere with lots of bikinis, like Brazil, or topless beaches, like Denmark?"
Snape gritted his teeth. "Only you would be dunderheaded enough to choose a potential sanctuary based on bathing costumes," he growled. "Switzerland has no extradition treaty with Britain, its current president despises Fudge, its population was neutral in the war so your reputation as either a Death Eater or Order member will be irrelevant, and their banking system is famous for being independent."
Lupin, unsurprisingly, got it first. "So you think that their local Gringotts would permit Sirius to access his vaults?" he asked, eyes lighting up.
Gryffindors. Snape rubbed his forehead and did his best to explain things in very small words. "It is well known in banking circles that all Gringotts branches are magically connected. Goblin magic is quite adept at linking two distant sites. Didn't you pay attention in Binns' History class? How do you think they managed all those ambushes?"
Black snickered. "You actually listened to the ghost? What a loser! Did you take notes too?"
"The point," Snape ground out, "which even the werewolf appears to grasp, is that in Switzerland you will be able to bankroll yourself, thus ensuring your safety from prosecution while you launch a counteroffensive in the world press."
"Oh." Black thought about that. "That would be good, right?"
Snape again reminded himself he was dealing with Gryffindors. "No rats," he said slowly and distinctly. "No Dementors. Money. Attention. Women."
Now Black was looking very happy. "Why didn't you say so?" he demanded. "Let's go! Come on, Moony! What are you waiting for?"
And now, looking at the front page of the Prophet, Snape saw the results of his labors. He had to admit, Black looked good. Lupin and the house elves had managed to reverse many of the ravages of Azkaban, and Black now looked the picture of noble suffering, gaunt but still ruggedly handsome rather than filthy and emaciated. No wonder the European paparazzi had gone wild. He was rich, handsome, young, and single: every young witch's dream.
Snape grimaced at the thought of how women were surely fawning all over Black. Knowing the mutt, he would quickly realize how effective a "tortured by Dementors" spiel would be in attracting the witches. Leave it to Black to use languishing in Azkaban as a means of picking up chicks.
Remus was in Switzerland as well, though he was following orders and keeping a low profile. He'd be better able to portkey back and forth that way, continuing to hand out Marauder justice to the Dursleys and negotiating with Bones at the MLE on Black's behalf.
Snape hastily Vanished his copy as a tentative knock sounded on his door. "What?" he snarled, opening it to reveal a rather apprehensive-looking Dumbledore.
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right, my boy," Albus said soothingly. "I have already remonstrated with Rolanda for springing the paper on you in such an abrupt fashion."
"I am entirely uninterested in Black's whereabouts or condition," Snape said coldly. "If those Swiss dunderheads are willing to shelter Death Eating scum, they deserve everything they get."