The Serpent Cycle

~Part Two~

"The Professor"

~Saturday 7 November 1981 – Early Evening, My Room

I'm in the room, my room. I don't know why I am writing this, but I think that I have to, for her.

I am afraid. I know what I must do and I will do it - though I have no idea how I will ever manage the thing. Even now, I want nothing more than to die. I never had the courage to do so in the past, but after last night… I cannot allow that to happen again. To die now would be the most cowardly act I could ever commit. I am alive now for one reason, I cannot betray that for anything. Last night made me see that if I am to do this, I must first focus and start taking care of myself. I must find some way to gain control over my thoughts and emotions. When the moment comes, I will be ready.

I have to stop this somehow. My every thought is one of horror. I cannot shut out my memories or even think straight. The events of the past few days have been so disorienting and I cannot help but to relive them over and over. The moments have past and yet they might just as well still be happening for the amount of detail I can recall from each event. My memories are so vivid that they drown out the present, and yet there are still events of the past few days that I do not remember at all.

When I was young, I prided myself on my memory. In school, I could read or hear something once and never forget it. I didn't need to study or even try as my classmates would have to have done... Now they are free to forget while I am cursed to remember everything - every painful moment - every word in every conversation. I sit alone in the room ruminating over the things we said – all of the things I regret and wish I had done differently. I can hear the things they said about me still. I allowed my feelings and my memories get the better of me, and I was nearly undone as a result.

I must silence my thoughts now as I once did when I was in school. Back then I wrote to relieve my frustrations and to keep track of my memories. It seems stupid now… three years ago – I thought I knew darkness. I knew nothing. Still, it did help to alleviate my trivial fears and thoughts. Considering all I have seen and done… well, I suppose now I shall just have to write in greater detail…

At some point I will have to face what I have forced myself to forget. That, I cannot – nor will I ever write, ever. For now, I will record what has happened in these past few days. I so need to remember this week - but to think on it no further. I will write everything. What else can I do really? There is just – all of this – time… a terrible void of endless time and I have nothing. There is nothing to focus on… nothing with which to fill the empty space of time… Perhaps that is the true reason I wanted to start a new journal… I have no idea what else to do.

No – I cannot think that way. Not any more. I have to be strong– for her. I can do this.

~The Early Days of November

I don't remember much, after what happened... I want to think that a blessing, but I hate to think now that I gave up so much control. I don't know what they did to me and that I find deeply disturbing. In all of that time, I know that I was not Imperiused. The missing fragments of memory are of a different nature than those lost under the Imperious Cruse. Which almost makes the memory loss all the worse for the chances are in that case, that I have no one to blame but myself.

I want to know what they did to me in that time. I need to, but I am afraid to unlock my thoughts from those days. As soon as I deal with the present, I will make sense of it. They will not have such power over me. I won't let them.

That is the other reason I must write. I keep dreaming, every night – the most vivid horrid things. Dreams weaken my powers of Occlumency. If I write, then perhaps it will help me to empty my thoughts before I sleep and I won't dream at all.

~The Portraits

The first thing that I remember, albeit vaguely was Dumbledore's office. That is when I woke up. I had been awake for days so the portraits said, but I do not remember that. I do recall them speaking, I heard them as if they were a million miles away. I thought it a dream, but now that I have come to my senses, I know they were real. I heard their voices through the haze… they were talking about me.

That is when I slowly became aware of where I was, and how I learned of what had happened in those days. I was sitting in a hard backed wooden chair. One of the portraits, I think it was Phineas Nigellus, asked another portrait why I was there in the office. The other former headmasters told him that I had been sitting unnaturally straight upright in that chair, for days. "He just sits and stares unblinking at nothing. It is a bit creepy," he had to add, "He has been completely motionless - but for his slow shallow breathing, we would think him to be dead."

It was a woman who started the argument. "He is still in shock, it's only been a few days what do you expect? Look at his eyes!" she said.

"I did." The first portrait answered. "That's what I find so creepy about the kid. They're blood-shot and odd. Who has black eyes?"

The woman argued in my defense for some reason. "Well for starters Everard, his name is Severus. Furthermore, his eyes are blood shot because he has cried himself past the point of being able to produce tears! Don't be so cruel. And I don't see what you find creepy about his eyes. He has such sweet doe like eyes."

"Blank staring creepy eyes. What is wrong with him? Does he not care that his clothing is so badly disheveled? It is full of dirt and ash. Look at his hair Dylis! See he does not even bother to pick the bits of leaves from it - or even pull it back from that gaunt face of his!? Is he a vampire with that long black hair and pallor!? He doesn't even look alive. Dylis you are wrong about him?" Then he went on laughing and arguing with the others. He kept insisting that I must have been a vampire because I had not slept or eaten in days. I have been insulted as such for my whole life. It hurts, no matter who says it - students, teachers, or even long dead Headmasters... But he was right. I honestly didn't care what I state I was in - let alone what I looked like.

The woman argued with him further. "He looks sick," she said.

"He is sick," another voice said…

Someone else spoke, and then I knew it to be Phineas Nigellus. "Why has Dumbledore not done anything for him? He does not seem upset to see Severus in this deranged state."

"Of course he's not," another voice was saying. "It was he who had locked Severus in his office and left him to sit staring for days. Albus may not have offered his not-so-former student any consolation at all, but this imprisonment was not an outright act of cruelty. He had done it to protect Severus as much from himself as much as from the Wizarding community at large, but that's over now."

Phineas cut in yelling, "What on Earth are you talking about!?"

"Honestly, where have you been Phineas? Dumbledore knew Severus wanted nothing more then to cut his own throat and die. He threatened to do it several times, we all heard him. He'd even broken free once. It was an hour before the Headmaster could find him and bring him back to the school. After that, Albus left Severus here then locked in the office to cry and rage himself into nothingness."

Had I? Memories began to come back to me, but at that point I hadn't the strength to take them in. I shut down again and went back into my trance. Whether they had gone on arguing about me or not, I do not know.

~The Trial

It could have been hours, or it could have been days, but the next thing I remember was Dumbledore. I was still sitting rigid in the chair. I felt my hands draped over the arms of the thing and yet, I felt oddly detached from my body. And when Dumbledore spoke, his voice floated through to me from beyond… from another world.

"Are you ready Severus?"

"Yes…...Headmaster." I was somewhat aware of having spoken. I had heard my own voice from the same distant place. I wasn't quite sure of what I had said. And I didn't care. The portraits said I didn't look alive, and I certainly didn't feel it. I remember thinking that this was not my life - that this was not any life at all.

He spoke again. I heard him clearer the second time, he said, "I am afraid, with Bartemius Crouch seeking out anyone with even the remotest connection to Voldemort, that it was only a matter of time." He beckoned me forward. "Come then, and be assured I have that I have this all under control. You will of course be cleared of all charges once I have had my say. There is no reason to be afraid."

"I'm not," I said, but my heart was racing. I knew it was only my body fearing physical pain and torture. But I wasn't truly afraid, because I knew I deserved it. Still, I was going to have to do something to stop the chemical reaction and control my heart rate.

I closed my eyes, drew breath, and something else took over. I stood up and walked lifelessly and walked across the room. I didn't feel much. I certainly didn't feel my feet upon the floor. It seemed as if an invisible force was drawing me forward. But I know there was no such force. I walked across that floor myself with the last of my strength. Whatever I had to do, I would do it.

The Headmaster led me directly to the Pensieve. Somehow this seemed to make sense, as if it had long been planned. It must have been, for I knew exactly what to do. I raised my wand to my forehead and held the tip of it between my eyes. One by one I removed my memories. I dropped the fluid silver strands into the Pensieve and watched them swirl and distort in the water. Dumbledore helped me to cast a rather difficult charm on them that I still do not quite understand. Each of the six silver strands split in two. I knew I was to take the duplicates and replace them back into my head. I did this with out speaking. My mind was blank, I'm not even sure if I knew my own name let alone what I was to do. I looked at Dumbledore. He only nodded at me, meaning for me to continue, so I did that. I took out more and more memories and left them in the stone basin. I finished and stared at him.

"You are sure that is all of them?" He asked. I nodded. "Good," then he waved a hand over me. "That should do it," he said when he'd finished. From what the portraits said, I suppose him to have cast some sort of charm to clean me up a bit.

One of them cried out from the wall, "Well, he still looks frightful, but for now at least he is clean-shaven and his hair devoid of debris."

Dumbledore ignored this. All he said to me was, "We should leave immediately for the Ministry of Magic. It will be best if we arrive as early as possible for your trial." I nodded and followed him out of the office. Get there early? What did I care about the time? Time is meaningless… that is all that there is now, so the details of the thing are rather insignificant.

We walked in silence through the corridors of the school. The portraits upon the walls all murmured to each other as we passed. "Stand up straight boy," one of them called to me. "Stop stooping over when you walk. Would it pain you to hold your head up?"

I know, I know. I never stand up straight and I do not walk properly. I can't - what do they all want of me? I'm too tall for my own body and there is nothing for it. Oh, how she used to say it – all the time. "Why do you always stand with your head down? Why do you hold your shoulders like that – you're so tense! You look like a cowering dog in fear of being hit by its master!" she would say. What could I even begin to say to that?

Nothing. Just keep walking. The portraits eventually fell silent. I could not bring myself to look at them - but all too well, I felt the weight of their penetrating stares. I knew that they could all see my guilt. I closed my eyes and prayed that the Wizengamot would as well.

The Trial. My trial, for having been a Death Eater… I wanted to turn myself in. I longed for Azkaban. I begged Dumbledore to send me to that impenetrable prison. I remembered that much even as we walked. I would so gladly have accepted a life sentence. The perpetual torment of Dementors slowly sucking out my soul – forcing me to relive my most painful memories – locked up alone forever… I deserved it. I wanted it - but Albus Dumbledore had other plans…

I was so numb. I barely felt the bitter cold of November - or even noticed the fact that we had stepped outside. We walked still in silence across the grounds and to the gates. There was no life. No birds sang. I heard only the sound of dry, dead sticks and leaves cracking under my feet. Only the sound of Dumbledore's cloak dragging the brush against the dust and that horrible ice-cold wind... The sky was violent, blustery and gray. It was only the later afternoon, but the sun was long gone. Of course the sun was gone. She was gone - everything was gone. The old world had been burned away and the sky was now full of ash and smoke. No life left, only Albus Dumbledore walking through the bleakness with a wraith at his side.

We reached Hogsmeade. Dumbledore finally turned to look at me, but I didn't look back at him. I just kept starring forward as he held out his arm to me. Fine. I was a good dog. I reached out my arm and took his. One violent crack of thunder - the lung crushing pressure and that was it. We'd left the woods and reappeared before the Ministry of Magic.

That dark marble building was nearly as cold inside as the bitter November air outside. Dumbledore seemed to make no sound as we made our way down the empty corridors, but the thunderous sound of my own wooden boot heals echoed endlessly down the hall. I hated it. I felt the terror taking over. What was happening to me? My heart was beating hard again. Each heartbeat matched my heavy heal strikes with cold hard intensity. It felt like a death march.

I couldn't understand it. I knew I would live, I knew I would not be imprisoned. The trial was nothing more then a show. They all were. Scores of witches and wizards with even the most remote ties to The Dark Lord had been called to stand trial. In that week alone, nearly sixty trials had been scheduled to occur. The series of show trials were intended to make the Ministry appear to have control over the chaos that had erupted since the death of The Dark Lord. Dumbledore had explained all of that to me at some point… I understood it. I was nothing, just another cog in the wheel of their plan, so what was it I feared?

The massive metal doors at the end of the corridor drew closer. There truly was nothing behind them that I feared. I knew Dumbledore's word and well-laid plans would be more then enough to clear me, despite my guilt. My guilt - which was greater than most of the people who would be tried… How many might be unfairly called to stand trial? How many would be unjustly sent to Azkaban while I walked free? My footsteps became louder. My heart beat harder. Suddenly the doors flew open and slammed violently into the marble walls. Light poured into the hallway and blinded me.

The light swept over me and seemed to transport me into the room. For a moment it seemed all was blinding white light and no sound. And though I had no clear memory of having done so I must have stepped forward over the threshold, for when the flash of light faded, I was inside of that room facing the whole of the Wizengamot.

Almost immediately two massive Aurors moved towards me. I froze there at the edge of the room, standing hunched over as I always do. I know I do this to hide the awkwardness of my body. I'm so sickly thin and far too tall. I don't want people to look at me. I don't want them to notice me and see strange I am. Of course it was all in vain. There is no hiding in a room when all eyes are upon you, and there would be no hiding from the two Aurors that had descended upon me.

They snatched me up on either side by my scrawny arms and made to drag me to the center of the room. Dumbledore tried to stop them. But I turned and looked back over my shoulder at him. I nodded just enough for him to notice – to let him know that I would be all right. Then I dropped my head and walked away willingly with the Aurors.

I wasn't afraid of them, even though they were both nearly twice my size. I can only imagine what it must have looked like, me walking with a twitch between them… Almost instantly, the room was full of mutterings. I hated it. I heard every single thing they said about me.

"Who is he?" I heard the voice of one snarky woman ask.

"I don't know but he looks sick," a grunt man was saying. Why, why does everyone have to look at me? Why must they talk about me? Do I really look that sick?

Another woman whispered – loudly, "He looks like a plant that has never seen the sun," as if I'd never heard that before…

"A plant? He might as well be an abyssal fish." Who ever said that didn't even bother to whisper.

Someone else stopped laughing long enough to say, "He looks like a weed being dragged by two trolls!" before convulsing into muffled laughter again.

"He is a mere child - Is he really in need of such escort," another man who was also laughing said, "doesn't seem much of a threat does he?"

"That's just it, isn't it?" a woman said ominously. I didn't like her tone at all for I knew where she was going with it - "What dark magic could cause such a sickly creature to be so unafraid under such a circumstance?" The others around her began to voice their agreement.

Finally I'd survived the gauntlet of taunts and reached the center of the room. There waiting for me was another large Auror who stood with his hand outstretched. "Your wand." He demanded.

The other Aurors released their grip, but only slightly. I had to reach my arm oddly through their clutches to draw my wand from where it lay in my left sleeve. My fingers closed around the ornately carved handle... The familiar feel of it calmed me instantly as I drew it from my sleeve. The weight of the unusually heavy wood in my hand only added to my feeling of peace and strength, but they took it from me and as they did I felt my breath leave my body with it. Panic wanted to take me over, but I wouldn't allow it.

Its just an object - its just an object, I can do magic with out it I kept telling myself. But, it was a friend who had been with me for almost all of my life. I didn't look at back at the black ebony wand as they took it away, lest I allow them to see me in any way upset. Still, I couldn't help but to think on the possibilities as I let them lead me to the chair upon the raised platform.

Their hands dug painfully into my arms as they took me up the steps. I felt the absence of my wand grow worse with each breath but I fought hard not to show fear. I was determined to hold my head up before the whole of the Wizengamot. I had to somehow stop staring at the floor so I lifted my head. I intentionally did not focus my eyes on anything or anyone. Everything was a blur, a sea of darkened faces and shadows. My head was swimming again. I began to feel as lost and numb as I had felt in Dumbledore's office, but this was different. This time I had a sense of purpose, and I found peace in that for some reason. I silenced all else and focused only on my final steps to the chair.

They were going to force me into it, but I took my place willingly. Almost instantly gold chains sprang up and coiled about me in one fluid motion - wrapping themselves about my neck, chest, wrists and ankles. Seconds later they solidified with out warning and I was bound to the chair – permanently so it seemed. Chains. Chains? Were they joking? I suppose this to have been a rather useful tactic when used to terrify the lot of the accused, but did they really think they could frighten me – with chains? What were chains to me after all I had been through?

Such arrogance, such shortsighted assumptions on the part of the Wizengamot… I felt near contempt towards them all. I almost smiled as I thought upon how amusing it all was in truth. I thought back upon the last time that I had been bound I such a way – but the second that thought crossed my mind I crushed it, burying it deep in my memory - lest my thoughts endanger another. Took a deep breath, emptied my mind and finally lifted my head. I looked my captors directly in their faces. My heart beat slow and steady. They had no power over me.

Barty Crouch, that insufferable, arrogant, god-fearing tyrant looked down at me from his would be throne. I saw it, for the briefest of moments in his stony face. He was unnerved. Surely he did not like the look of the sickly, abyssal fish of a mere child glaring back at him with black eyes. He looked away from me as quickly as he could, pretending to focus on his stack of parchment. He cleared his throat, and spoke with a commanding voice that consumed the whole of courtroom.

"The Wizengamot will now hear the case number 261 on this the forth of November in the year nineteen eighty one." Then he looked at me, his eyes narrowed, "Severus Snape, son to the Pure Blood Witch Eileen Prince and to the Muggle Tobias Snape current resident of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the care of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"

"Yes," I answered. My voice did not carry far, for I always speak softly. It took Barty Crouch a moment to register that I had even spoken at all.

He nodded slightly then continued. "Severus Snape, you stand accused of having been associated with He Who Must Not be Named. You have been accused of having been a Death Eater, and of bearing The Dark Mark – do you deny these charges?"

"No." I told him, and I was calm when I said it, for I do not deny the truth.

"Right," Crouch was far too haughty when he spoke. The sound of his voice alone nauseated me to no end... "Let it be known to all here assembled, that the honorable Albus Dumbledore, a member of this Wizengamot has already vouched for this young man. He has already admitted to his guilt. Upon the word of Albus Dumbledore, this young man has already repented in full and has been acting to help our side for several months." Then he looked down at me and said in the most demeaning way possible, "I am sorry son, but all this is procedure. The formalities must be observed in all cases, even yours." I nodded my compliance and Crouch continued, "Now, can you show us The Mark in question?"

I couldn't help myself. "That's rather difficult," I said with out feeling, "Seeing as you've pinioned both of my arms." The crowd began to crack into laughter. Crouch seemed stunned, and yet it was still too easy. "I'd magic up my sleeve for you if you'd prefer, but that too I'm afraid would not be possible since you've taken my wand." By then the crowd was laughing openly.

Crouch was furious. I rather imagine the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not accustomed to being spoken to in such ways, but I didn't care. "Silence," he then ordered, "This court will come to order, now." Instantly the crowd fell into silence, "Now, tell me, tell the court – do you have a Dark Mark or not?"

"Yes," I told him.

Crouch seemed still irritated. "Yes you have it, or yes you don't?"

Had I not been clear? What part of the word "yes" had not been obvious to him? I fought hard not to display my annoyance. Was he really going to make me say it? That's when it struck me hard – just how badly I wanted to not talk about the violation that had been done to my body, and to my soul… still there was no denying it. "I can assure you, that I do indeed have the Dark Mark on my –"

But I was cut off "-Oh he has it!"

That voice. I whipped my head to face the source of that awful gruff voice. Sure enough there sat the sadistic, blood-stained assassin - Alastor Mad-Eye Moody. He just - sat there - grinning maniacally. I was furious to see him, but I was even more furious to see that Dumbledore had taken up a seat next to the ruthless Auror. I stared at him blankly. I did not dare let on how much I hate him for what he did – no less the manner in which he did it. It made my skin crawl as sat there, realizing how everyone in that courtroom surely thought him a hero for such acts – but I knew better. I was there. I saw it. I saw how he killed Evan Rosier – but again I silenced the thought before it could fully surface. I turned back around to face Crouch.

Crouch was silencing the crowd, which had broken into laugher and mutterings after Moody's insolent disruption. "Right." He said, to Moody, "You are sure of this Alastor – you can see it clearly?"

So smug Moody was when he spoke - "Crystal clear," he said. I could almost feel his magical eye upon me – the perversion of it – I was growing agitated, but I shook off the fear as best I could. Moody might be able to see tattoos, but he would only think to look at the Dark Mark, and that I did not fear him seeing…

"So you have been branded," Crouch said, now finally seeming interested and not simply going through the bureaucratic motions. "Can you tell me when you were branded son?"

Son he calls me. Boy they all call me. I am twenty-one I am no child! It was all becoming so intolerable, and now they wanted me to talk about the moment that it had happened… What more did they want of me? I remember it all too well, but I was not going to let even a hint of those feelings surface. Surely by then more than one Legilimens would have set to work upon me. I shut out all thought and stared forward unblinking - when I answered I was devoid of all feeling. "I received the Mark in April. April of 1978, just before the end of my final term at Hogwarts."

"Oh, well I see then. So you were one of the early ones." Crouch sounded disappointed to have to say it. "You were branded in the days when just about anyone was given the Mark. Yes I see now, according to the testimony given already by Albus Dumbledore that you were in fact inducted in an early wave." He ruffled through more paper, but this time he seemed to actually be reading them and not doing so to stall for time. After a minute or so he started muttering to himself, all the while the court became restless once again.

I looked out to the crowd. They all talked in separate groups and were no longer looking at me. Even that tawdry dressed gossip columnist seemed to be preoccupied by her nails. I was relieved, for it seemed that the suspicious crowd had dismissed me. If even Rita Skeeter could not be bothered with my trial, then surely I would be forgotten quickly.

My moment of relief, however was sadly short lived. I looked back to Crouch and waited… I knew what was coming.

"Now, Mr. Snape," Barty Crouch began, "You were in league with the Death Eaters, working for He Who Must Not be Named for nearly three years. Surely you can give us the names of other Death Eaters with whom you were associated."

This was the moment I had been dreading all along. I was going to have to give up names. I myself was about to sentence people to Azkaban.

I began to speak, fully aware of the death sentences I was handing down as I did so… Then suddenly, I was far away. I was looking down upon myself, but it wasn't me… or it was… I was confused for a moment, and then it all became clear. I had left. Snape was reciting from the carefully chosen list of names. Snape. That was it.

I had just been called Mr. Snape. That name, the named I hated – the name I have forever tried to deny. That was not my name. That was the name of – him. That one. The one that I wanted nothing to do with. I am not Snape. I am Severus. I took my mother's last name, Prince... The Half-Blood Prince…

So then, that other creature that spoke with my voice and visage – that thing was Snape. That was it. That would be the split and the separation. That would be how I would do it, how I could go on living, and how I would carry out all that had been asked of me. Snape would be a mask. The world would attack Snape, and I would remain safe from them as Severus. Alone in secret with my mother's last name – Severus – The Half-Blood Prince and no one would ever know.

At least I told myself that. I tried so hard to believe it, just as I do now. But even as I watched myself from afar, hearing my voice from a distance as if spoken by someone else - I knew it would never work, just as I do now. It was still my voice. I will never be able to fully separate… It was me – I was the one who did it.

I finally began to understand the fear I had felt from my trance in the hallway. The death march was not mine, but that of all those whom I was selling to gain my own freedom.

I hated it. I didn't want to give the names that I was giving. I suspected many among them of having been Imperiused. In truth it did not matter to me if they were guilty or not. Either way, I was about to ruin far more lives than I was naming... Families would be shattered. Adult children taken from their mothers - husbands and wives torn from each other - Parents would be taken and children would be left as orphans after this action had been completed. And I had to do it, upon Dumbledore's orders.

It came back to me then. All of the discussions that occurred in his office. All of his plans and my compliance… I had given him every name that I could think of. I told him who they were, and all that they had done… There were so many names I had wanted to give during the actual trial. I wanted to name Bellatrix her and her horrible husband – I wanted to name Luscious, Rabastan and Nott. I'd seen all of them commit terrible atrocities – before the war had even reached the peak of its hostilities… I wanted at least to name Avery and Mulciber and give them over to the Ministry, but Dumbledore would not let me. The names that I gave had all been precisely chosen by Dumbledore days earlier. He'd made me recite that chosen set of names countless times. I had been in such a state in his office, I had only been half present for those rehearsals… but I was slowly becoming aware, of just how frighteningly well Dumbledore had thought it all through.

I could not name the inner circle. They were all upstanding members of society - pillars of the Wizarding World. They could not be touched. Certainly the word of a scrawny git like me would mean nothing against theirs. Most of them had already been cleared by the Ministry, or had at least paid to be cleared. So the present reconstruction of society after the war had to be considered, but so too did the future. Dumbledore had explained this all to me... What would happen, he said, when the Dark Lord does return? What did I think he would do when he heard how I had sold out the whole of his inner circle? Surely I would be killed for this betrayal, and what good would I be as a spy then?

Dumbledore had forced me then, to give the names of not just those who had been low ranking enough to have been barely guilty of petty crimes, but those who had made grave mistakes against the Dark Lord. By turning them in, I would be seen as doing both The Ministry and the Dark Lord a great service. It was the perfect plan. Perfect, cruel and completely ruthless…

I know all to well about those who were forced into The Dark Lord's service against their will. At least half of them had done so under threat of death to themselves or loved ones. Others had been Imperiused, or had simply made mistakes. They may have claimed allegiance in fear, but most had never even considered committing any form crime. or violence. Their hearts were pure. Their hands were free of blood and they would now be sent to Azkaban for having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those who killed mercilessly then sang of their bloody conquests were now walking free - helping to shape the future of the Wizarding World. I would be set free – I - who was just as guilty as that inner circle was about to walk free. There was no justice. How could I be so stupid as to think that any form of alter ego could help me come to terms with that!?

My delusion was completely shattered. I was back inside of myself. I glared then at Crouch. The look in his eyes - he was as bloodthirsty and power hungry as the Death Eaters… I saw little difference – in any of us.

By then I had nearly finished giving up the names of the naïve. I had done my part in the continuing line of corruption. Crouch thanked me. I felt sick. But I still had one more name. One final soul to sacrifice… "Lastly," I said with difficulty, "Evan Rosier, though I understand he may have been captured or killed."

"Yes," Crouch said. He would have said more but once again the git Moody interrupted.

"Oh I finished him off ages ago, he tried to get one over on me," he was smiling when he said this. The sick bastard was smiling and pointing with pride to that chunk missing from his nose. It was sick, he actually laughed then said, "He wasn't too bright that one."

His words infuriated me but I forced my face to remain still. My eyes did not betray me either as I stared at Crouch. I could not think on Evan, Occlumency had already taken over, and not a second too soon.

"Is that all you have for us," Crouch was condescending to me again.

"Yes,"

"Yes?" Crouch was sneering and glaring intensely at me. He was clearly not satisfied with my response. "Can you please tell us the specific nature of the task that was assigned to you by He Who Must not be Named? According to the testimony given by Albus Dumbledore, you were a spy."

"Yes,"

Crouch was prodding me, "You passed along information to You Know Who?"

"Yes,"

Crouch sniffed, I could see he was growing impatient. "I get the sense, that you are yes-ing me to death. Son, I do not care for one-word responses. You will answer my questions in full. Now tell me exactly what it was that you did for You Know Who!"

"I was a spy," I said as calmly as I could, "My primary assignment was to follow fortune tellers and repeat their prophecies to The Dark Lord, particularly those which pertained to him. When no predictions were made, my secondary assignment was to set a watch on the Hogshead. All discussions concerning The Dark Lord were to be related back to him."

"Yes of course," Crouch this without looking up from his parchment, "From all the reports we've been receiving, You Know Who was rather paranoid. It seems he had been especially concerned about what the world at large thought and said about him." This he said more to himself for he was mumbling, then he addressed me, "So, you were one of the many spies employed to monitor the public perception of You Know Who?"

"Yes."

I could see the triumph slowly creeping across his face. "Right," he drawled, the way he looked at me made me sick. "another meant to keep track of whispers and rumors. So you were incredibly low ranking among his followers then weren't you?"

"Yes," I said with no emotion, I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of letting on that I had recognized the thinly veiled insult. The fool, not even through Legilimens could he understand the true reason of why that statement had so upset me.

"Very well," Crouch sighed, "I see you really have given us all the information that you could give. You must not have been privy to much information then, since you would have only ranked above his petty thieves."

"-Like Rosier!" The obnoxious shout – he'd done it again. Moody insulted Evan then burst into laughter again.

I felt the sting. Pain and fury were growing within me. I fought hard, shut out my feelings and redoubled my wall of Occlumency. "Yes, I was of a very low rank." I said with a sigh. I had to. I knew I was going to have to submit. I finally had to give Crouch the satisfaction he had so lusted after by admitting my to weakness. That is the only way to stop the attack of a tyrant such as him, as I know all too well. I have far too much experience on the matter... I'd done what they had all asked of me, I wanted it stopped. I dropped my head and gave them what they wanted. "The Dark Lord viewed those of my standing as highly dispensable due to our number. I did count as little more then a petty thief." If only that were true...

"Thank you," Crouch said smugly, but he was far from finished. "We will be investigating those names, and those who are found to be guilty will be punished severely. Your information has been tremendously helpful. Albus Dumbledore has told me personally how much help you have been already son."

What more could he want of me? I had nothing else, then suddenly I was struck by a horrible sinking feeling – because I thought I could see where it was all going…

"What I hope you can help me to understand now is how such a seemingly fine young man like yourself could get mixed up with such a heinous organization." Oh dear God I was right, he's going to do that. "I've gone through your records," he said, speaking to me as if I were a child as he pointed to the stack of parchment. "You were an exemplary student. You received top marks. You achieved nine O.W.L.s and nine N.E.W.T.s. What on Earth would make you throw all that away by joining up with the Death Eaters?"

I almost cracked. Intense shame, sorrow and hatred overtook me in a second. I saw in my memories the awful thing that had been done to me – all the terrible things I had done – all that I had loved that had abandoned me, how I had lost all hope, given up on life and turned to – them in utter despair and desperation. I would never recount so much as a fraction of such things, but that's what people like Crouch do. They, lull you into thinking they are being sympathetic. That's how they get to you. You are meant to cry and spill your heart to them, and once you submit fully, once you've given up your heart and your dignity - they have you forever, as I also know too well…

In this case, Crouch had already won. His words were meant to wound and they had. My heart had been pierced, I was vulnerable, and yet still they could not get inside of me. I could sense the eyes upon me – boring into me harder then ever they had. Some of the most accomplished Legilimens were at work against me, and yet I still held them at bay. I am that good. No one else, no matter how practiced in Occlumency could have fought of such an attack, its just not done. I was so pleased with myself, when suddenly I saw it - Dumbledore had been right.

God damn it. I was so sure I could do things my way despite him but he had been right, and only then did I see it! If I were to use my full powers of Occlumency, it would backfire. It would look too suspicious. In allowing the world to see what a good Occlumens I truly was, I would be giving away too much. My greatest strength had become a weakness… just as he said it would. I would have to let them in, or they would never believe…

Dumbledore really had foreseen everything and had worked even that eventuality into his plan. God, fucking, damn it. I hate it when he is right… So I let go. I carefully allowed the memory to float to the surface of my mind. I began to relate the tale as the sickening images flashed before me, and I knew they all could see what was in my mind.

The hazy past came back and Evan was shouting. There he was, the mousy brown haired teenager surrounded by four others including myself. We were all clustered together around a set of leather chairs in the Slytherin Common Room. "We are going to do this!" He was screaming and spitting with rage, "You are all cowards – You are always ruining my plans." We were all looking up at him. Everyone seemed to fear Evan, everyone, but me.

"It was Evan Rosier's idea," I spoke in the present to the court. "He was screaming at all of us. He wanted for all of us to meet with his hero - a man who was a friend of his father. Evan Rosier - his family name was the most respected amongst our group. We looked up to him… but the others, Avery Mulciber and Wilkes did not want to go at all."

"You say the others did not want to go?" Crouch seemed suspicious, "I have very strong evidence that names Avery, Mulciber and Wilkes as some of You Know Who's strongest supporters, but you say they did not want to accompany Rosier?"

I let the memory play itself out in full agonizing clarity. I allowed them to watch as in my memory as Evan went on screaming. He was cruel, and shouted terrible insults to each of us which I cannot bear to write... Then he cried out, "Do you know how the rest of the school views me – us?! If we did this – if we all were allowed to join – that would change everything!" The others were not convinced so he attacked again. "All of you are a disgrace – to your families – to Slytherin and to me! How can you even call yourselves wizards!? You disgust me."

Avery was pleading with him to stop - to leave the others alone. Finally I stood up. I walked over and literally took Evans side. "I say we do it. We will all go with you…" I was telling the others, "Evan is right. If we join up with them, then the rest of the school would be impressed and our families would be made proud…"

I could have vomited. "Avery, and the others were not responsible for their involvement," I said in the present to Crouch. "In the end, it was my fault. I finally agreed to go with Evan and convinced them to go." I hung my head slightly to give the appearance of mock shame. My real shame of course, they could never begin to imagine.

I looked back at Crouch to complete my explanation. "As soon as we had become Death Eaters, we regretted it. We all realized how foolish we had been. We all wanted to get out, but they threatened our families and we were all too afraid to defy the Dark Lord."

Crouch was nodding as I finished. He sighed then spoke with mock sympathy, "I fully understand. We have heard the tale time and again. Threats and attacks against family members and loved ones. Tragic. Like so many others you were naive. You allowed yourself to be lead astray, realizing it only after it was too late. Now I see Severus, yours is just another tale of typical teenage stupidity."

"Yes," I said this with what felt to be the last breath of life in me. Having delivered that death blow, Crouch was now finally finished.

"Well Severus, I can see no reason to keep you any longer. Severus Snape, you are here by cleared of all charges. I release you now into the custody of Albus Dumbledore."

What? I couldn't understand. My mind went blank and I felt nothing but shock and emptiness. I couldn't take it in, but it was over. The crowd forgot me and broke into muttering again. The chains that had bound me to the chair uncoiled and slunk away back down to the floor. Crouch had turned to an assistant and was already being briefed on the next case. The Aurors that had lead me in were nowhere to be seen.

So I was meant to get up and walk back to Dumbledore alone. I had not considered this. I had not considered walking away from that chair at all. I didn't know how I would be able to do it. Walking back freely was going to be far more difficult then walking as a captive. But I was… free.

Reality was setting in. I had been cleared. It hurt. I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me. But I was guilty! Don't they know what I have done!? I was guilty. I couldn't walk free - how could I walk free? This wasn't happening – but it was. The judgment had been given. The chains were gone, and Albus Dumbledore was waiting for me. There was nothing else to do. I stood up, hung my head, and walked unguarded back to the Headmaster.

I need to stop writing for a while….