The History of Those We Thought We Knew

by StaceyLC

As Harry begins his quest for the remaining horcruxes, his world is turned completely upsidedown by the return of Severus Snape, and Harry learns more than he ever thought possible about Snape, his parents, and the burning question of Dumbledore's death.

1. The Other Side

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and all it's character's belong to J. K. Rowling and the WB.

Harry Potter

"The History of Those We Thought We Knew"

Chapter 1

The Other Side

If there was one thing that could be said about the derelict little town that contained a street called Spinner's End, it would be that, if on the off chance that you were perhaps on the run from wizarding law - or any other law for that matter - it would be the last place on earth that anyone would come looking for you. Spinner's End was the last signposted street in a long line of very similar looking streets with very similar looking houses, complete with garbage strewn walkways and gutters. The place had an odd sense of abandonment. Not a single person could be seen either outside or within their homes, for the windows of all the houses were so encrusted with grime that even if there were people living in them, there would be no chance of seeing them from the outside, or for them to see anything from the inside. And this was exactly what the man who appeared out of thin air liked most about Spinner's End.

Quiet and privacy . . . especially now.

The man was tall and thin, and what could be seen of his face through his long, dark and greasy hair was pale. He carried a wand, which he did not bother to hide, because he knew no one would be around to notice it anyway. There was a smaller man - no, a boy, almost a man - in tow, and he couldn't have been more different from the one that was leading him up the winding street. He was also pale, but in an "I'm about to be sick" way, his blond hair sleek and shiny and slicked back. He also carried a wand, and he was gripping it so tightly it looked like it was about to break. His eyes were icy gray and wide with fright, as opposed to the taller man's, who had just swept his hair away from his narrowed, dark ones.

The dark-haired man lead his companion to the very last house. It seemed that the younger man had had enough, however, for he tried to tug his arm out of the dark- haired man's grip.

"Don't be an idiot," said the man without taking his eyes off his surroundings. Before he got to the door of the house, he did an odd wave with his wand and a red light seemed to engulf the house and the yard around it before it went back to normal. He then pointed his wand at the door, which clicked and opened, and shoved the younger man inside. He took one last look around Spinner's End before slamming it shut and locking it once more. With another flick of his wand, the man had lit the candles in the hanging ceiling lamp above them, which illuminated the room and its two inhabitants in a faint, orange glow. The younger man looked around the small, shabby room. He still had not put away his wand.

"Where the hell are we?" he demanded. His voice tried to sound commanding, but there was a definite note of fear and shock in it. The other man had thrown his cloak down onto the grubby little couch and was busying himself over by a wall of books, which he pushed open to reveal another room.

"My home," he answered.

The younger man looked like he was about to say something rude, and then thought better of it. "What was that thing you did outside? With the light?"

"A certain type of barrier spell," the dark-haired man answered. "It will alert us when they arrive."

He disappeared into the door. The younger man didn't seem to need an explanation as to who "they" were. Instead, he gulped slightly, his eyes widening even more. He looked down and noticed that the hand that still held his wand was shaking. He put his wand away finally and put both hands in his pockets to make it stop. "Do you think the Order will come after us right away?"

There was the sound of clinking from the other room, and the other man's voice floated back through the door. "Of course not. Besides, they would never think of looking here."

The younger man, who was just about to sit down on an old armchair, jumped right back up again. The older man continued: "No, I expect a few of our . . . friends . . . will be joining us very soon. That is why we came here." The younger man pulled out his wand again, but the dark-haired man had reappeared in the tiny sitting room. He scowled at the wand that was now being directed toward him. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco. You will not be harmed."

"Oh yeah?" sneered Draco Malfoy. "Why did you bring me here, then? You knew that when we didn't Apparate with the others that he'd . . . he'd come looking."

"Yes," the older man said. His voice sounded odd. "I did."

It was then that Draco noticed that the older man was holding a small vial. He walked over to Draco and pushed it roughly into the blonds' other hand, then turned and walked back across the room. Draco looked at it. It was extremely dusty and contained some kind of liquid. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Tut, tut, Mr. Malfoy," the older man sneered. "And you did so well in Potions."

Now it was Draco's turn to scowl, but he reexamined the vial again, more closely, and this time a look of comprehension dawned on his face.

"That's a concentrated dose," the older man explained. "It should do. You should drink that immediately."

"But . . . you killed him. The oath . . . the oath should be done now-"

"Do as I say," the older man said sternly.

But Draco didn't move. The older man walked back across the room and didn't stop until his hooked nose was barely inches from Draco's face.

"You are being a foolish little boy," he said in no more than a whisper. "Less than an hour ago you were about to kill what some considered to be the greatest wizard in the world. Have you lost that much nerve in such a short amount of time, that you cannot now find the courage to drink a bit of potion?"

Draco whimpered. "But, I didn't-"

"No. You didn't. And that is why you must do what you are told."

The room suddenly flashed a bright red. Draco blinked against the harshness of it, but the dark-haired man simply stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

"They're here," he said, simply. He took hold of Draco's arm and yanked him into the other room, which turned out to be a small, dank kitchen. "Drink it now," he ordered. "We're running out of time."

Draco looked like he was about to be very ill. He uncorked the vial as the dark-haired man swept back into the sitting room. He looked around for a moment, took out his wand, and pointed it at a spindly looking chair, which promptly broke clean in half. Draco jumped, almost spilling the liquid everywhere. "What are you doing!" he exclaimed, as the older man pointed his wand at another wall of books, sending them flying. It was then Draco noticed that the man's arm was bleeding. There were three, long gashes in the material of his robes, and Draco looked down to see spots of blood on the kitchen floor. The dark-haired man turned to him.

"Making it believable," he said. "Drink. It. Now."

There was a noise outside, the sound of many feet making their way up the walkway that lead to the dark-haired man's house. The dark-haired man glared at Draco, who hesitated no longer, and downed the contents of the vial in one gulp. He stood quite still for a moment, and then went as pale as death. He convulsed slightly and then fell to the floor in a heap. The dark-haired man walked over to the fallen form of Draco. He was as still as stone, the vial still clutched in his cold, white hand. The dark-haired man picked it up, waved his wand and murmured, "Oblitero." The vial vanished. Then, pocketing his own wand, he retrieved Draco's and ripped off some of the cloth covering his unwounded arm. Jaw clenched, he pointed the wand at his exposed skin and drew several long, deep, and horrible lines in his own flesh. He tossed the wand aside as, mere seconds later, there came several loud bangs on the man's front door. He walked over and threw it open.

There were five black clad and hooded figures standing in his walkway. There was a sixth figure as well, although he was not dressed in the robes that the others were, his face not hidden in a dark mask. His face was white as a skull, with red eyes and slits for nostrils. He considered the dark-haired man in front of him, who was breathing heavily and leaning against the door frame, blood running down both his arms.

"Good evening, Severus," Voldemort greeted him, in a cold voice.

Severus Snape managed a bow, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's gaze. "My Lord."

He moved aside, so that Voldemort and the Death Eaters behind him could move into the dismantled sitting room. Voldemort barely took his eyes off Snape as he shut the door and turned to face them. He swept over to Voldemort and bowed once more.

"Alecto tells me that we have succeeded," Voldemort began. "She also tells me that you were the one to do it."

Snape gave the faintest of nods. The blood from his newest wound was dripping into a small puddle on the floor.

"Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort spat, "killed by one of his own most trusted professors. I commend you, my friend. You have triumphed where all others before you have failed." His eyes swept across the room. "No one else before me had the courage or the power to do what the Malfoy boy could not."

Some of the Death Eaters shifted around uncomfortably. Voldemort beckoned Snape to stand. "You will be most rewarded, my friend. I know now that you are my greatest and most faithful servant. However..." He narrowed his red eyes. "There is still the matter of the boy." He glanced at Snape's bleeding arms. "Why was he not brought before me? Why did you not return with the others? I would have most enjoyed hearing the tale of the great Dumbledore's demise from the tongue of his murderer."

"Forgive me, My Lord," Snape began. "I wanted to save you the bother of dealing with him."

Voldemort said nothing, so Snape continued: "He trusted me and looked up to me. I did his task and I also dealt his punishment. It seemed... fitting."

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and lowered their hood. Bellatrix Lestrange glared at Snape through her heavily-lidded eyes. "Where is he?"

Snape nodded to the hidden door that lead into the kitchen. Bellatrix and another Death Eater immediately turned and went through it. Voldemort surveyed the wreckage in the sitting room and glanced at Snape's wounds again. "I take it he did not go quietly?"

"He thought he could, er, defend himself, My Lord," Snape replied.

Voldemort laughed, cold and cruel. "Fool. Must have taken after his father. Lucius turned out to be quite the disappointment."

Bellatrix returned to the sitting room, followed by the other Death Eater. She turned to Voldemort and nodded. "He speaks the truth. My nephew is dead." She sighed in an annoyed sort of way. "My sister will be most aggrieved."

Voldemort gave Snape an appraising look. "Well done, my friend, well done. You've surpassed my greatest expectations." He took out his wand, pointed it at one of Snape's ruined arms, and began to heal it. He then did the same with Snape's other arm. "Voldemort always rewards those who are faithful to him."

Snape bowed again. "Thank you, My Lord."

"He did it to you, I suspect," said Voldemort, nodding toward the kitchen. "Powerful magic, that. Sectumsempra, I believe."

Snape nodded.

"One of your more ingenious inventions. I take it you taught it to him?"

"Indeed. Although, I regret doing so now."

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Rise, Severus," he said. "It is they who should be bowing to me." He indicated the Death Eaters around them. "They, who so unwisely distrusted you, even though I did so implicitly. They, who apparently thought they knew better than the Dark Lord himself." He stared at each of them in turn as they bowed and muttered apologies. "Here stands the man whom all of you claimed would betray me, claimed would be my next downfall. He stands before you now the greatest of my loyal Death Eaters, and he will be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. This man," he pointed at Snape, "killed Albus Dumbledore. This man. Not you, Amycus, with your boasts of duels and Muggle tortures." One of the Death Eaters trembled slightly. "Nor you, Alecto, who could not even deal with a few simpering Hogwarts students. Not even," and he turned to face Bellatrix, "you, Bella, who was so keen to dissuade me from putting my confidence in Severus."

Bellatrix bristled. "I would have, My Lord. But, you deemed it necessary for me to keep watch on Narcissa-"

"Yes," Voldemort snapped, making Bellatrix jump, "I deemed it necessary. Do you again doubt me, Bellatrix? It's beginning to get tiresome."

Bellatrix's eyes widened slightly and she bowed deeper than ever. "Of course not, My Lord. Never. I just-"

"Silence! Your jealousy of Severus' talent and relevance has become quite tedious. I will tolerate it no longer."

Voldemort turned his back on her, but Bellatrix continued to glare at Snape with pure loathing.

"However," Voldemort continued, "I do have to admit that even I had become suspicious. Especially after you did not return with the others." Snape didn't move, nor did he break eye contact with Voldemort. "Amycus told me that you were still... teaching... Potter when they Disapparated. I thought, perhaps, that the boy had somehow managed to harm you. Or, you had lost your nerve, and returned to the Order of the Phoenix, begging for their forgiveness. Especially once I found out that you had come here." Voldemort smiled slightly. Snape was now staring at a point beyond Voldemort, his lip curling slightly, as one of the Death Eaters began twitching nervously. "Yes, I knew you were here," the Dark Lord continued, interpreting Snape's gaze correctly. "I thought I would give you the benefit of explaining yourself to me. Wormtail here saw you and the boy Apparate in the street and came at once to report to me."

Peter Pettigrew whimpered as Snape rounded on him. "Why you filthy, sneaking little vermin," Snape spat at him furiously as Pettigrew squealed and tried to duck behind another Death Eater. "You dare spy on me? You dare to try and turn the Dark Lord against me?"

"Calm yourself, Severus," Voldemort said, placing his long fingered hand on Snape's shoulder. "My confidence in you, as you know, as been restored. And," he smiled, and his red eyes seemed to glow even brighter, "I give you Wormtail as a reward, to do what you wish with him."

Wormtail's eyes bulged with fright. "But-but, My Lord-"

Voldemort ignored him. "Come," he said to his Death Eaters. "We have work to do now. No one will dare stop us now, thanks to Severus. He will forever be remembered as the one who defeated Albus Dumbledore. He will forever be remembered as Lord Voldemort's most faithful servant."

The Death Eaters rose and followed Voldemort to the door. Snape threw one more disgusted look at Petigrew before coming and opening it. "My Lord, if I may," he began. Voldemort nodded. "Narcissa had nothing to do with the boy's sudden lack of courage. In fact, I believe she pushed him hardest of all to accomplish his task."

"You ask me to spare her."

"I am asking you to take what I have said into consideration, My Lord, but only if you wish to do so."

Voldemort studied him before answering: "I am feeling somewhat gracious to you at the moment, Severus. It is done. For now, she will not be harmed."

The Dark Lord's meaning did not go unnoticed by Snape, who bowed once more. Voldemort again placed his hand on his shoulder. "You have served me well, Severus. Be prepared. I shall summon you when we are ready."

He swept out the door, the Death Eaters following him. Snape waited until they had Disapparated before shutting the door. Taking out his wand, he locked it again. Wormtail was still whimpering and sputtering, trying to hide himself behind the patched armchair. "You miserable little rodent," Snape snarled, grabbing Wormtail and pointing the wand at his throat. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't curse you into a thousand disgusting little pieces."

"Forgive me, Severus, forgive me!" Wormtail pleaded, shaking uncontrollably. "Th-there was no harm done! And the Dark Lord... the Dark Lord favors you now most of all-"

"Of course he does, you vile piece of filth, with no thanks to you! You were hoping him to catch me in some act of betrayal, no doubt. What, did you think that he would then confide in you? That you would be revered by the others as being his most trusted and loyal servant?" Snape shook him. Wormtail whimpered and cried. "I have tolerated your presence in my home for long enough."

"Severus," Wormtail begged. "Severus, please..."

Snape stiffened and his hold on Wormtail loosened ever so slightly. He narrowed his eyes and then threw Wormtail to the floor. Without giving him a second glance, he strode into the kitchen where the still form Draco lay. Wormtail, crawling on his hands and knees, peered around the door frame. When he saw Draco's body he gave a tiny squeal of fright.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked, voice quavering. "What you did to him?"

Snape snorted. "Doubtful." He was digging through a tall cabinet filled with rows and rows of clear, crystal vials, each containing a liquid of some sort. He reached in all the way to the back and retrieved a round, dusty vial full of some ominous looking green fluid.

"You're going to poison me!" Wormtail exclaimed, and jumped as Snape slammed the cabinet door shut, glaring.

"Be quiet," he hissed at him, uncorking the vial. "I have something else planned for you. Something more useful, if you can manage it."

Snape knelt down beside Draco, dipping the contents into his mouth. Wormtail stared at him as Snape sighed. "It pains me to admit that you were right in summoning the Dark Lord here tonight, Wormtail, for I did indeed deceive him. I had a feeling it was a matter of time before he discovered our whereabouts, but I was extremely surprised that he arrived here so quickly. I never dreamed that you would have the gall to spy on me. I knew you had taken to eavesdropping on my conversations, which was extremely irritating, by the way. But this amount of bravery from you, Wormtail, is nothing short of astonishing. You haven't had the 'courage' to report on me since our Hogwarts days." Snape dipped some more potion into Draco's mouth. "Of course, then you were merely reporting to your slimy little friends, so they could spring yet another prank on me for their amusement. Your transforming abilities served you well, even then. And now, they will be put to their most important use of all."

Before Wormtail could ask, he jumped a clean two feet in the air as Draco sat bolt upright, coughing and shaking. The color was slowly returning to his cheeks, but he still looked pale and clammy.

"But-but," Wormtail sputtered. "The Dark Lord... you told him he was dead! Bellatrix confirmed it."

"Because Bellatrix is an idiot, as are most of the people in the Dark Lord's service," Snape explained, as he helped Draco to his feet. "Oh, they can be clever, yes. Bellatrix can definitely be clever. And powerful. But even the cleverest person can let something sneak by them because they are not looking for it. There is a fine line between cleverness and ignorance."

Draco was still swaying unsteadily, his eye lids drooping. Snape shook him. "You must stay awake, Draco. The antidote will take affect shortly." He turned to Wormtail once more, who was shakily getting up off the floor himself. "The Draught of Living Death, as you very well know, is almost undetectable. It leaves no smell and is virtually tasteless. But it is also simple, Wormtail. So simply obvious that Bellatrix and her fellow Death Eaters wouldn't give it a second thought, because the fact that they could be tricked by it is laughable to them. Which is why it worked. I would even be so arrogant to presume that it would have fooled even the Dark Lord himself if he had chosen to come an examine Draco. I am a very accomplished Occlumens, Wormtail. The Dark Lord already believed me when I told him that I had killed Draco. He believed that the wounds on my arms with due to a duel with Draco, but in fact one of them was caused by a hippogriff and the other I did to myself, with Draco's wand. I planted a false memory in my mind, which I showed to the Dark Lord. And as I had destroyed the evidence that there was even a potion at all, he had no reason to doubt me."

Wormtail stood there in complete disbelief and fear. All the color had returned to Draco's face now, and Snape lead him over to the couch and let him sink down upon it.

"You are my reward, Wormtail," Snape said, smoothly. "The Dark Lord said I could do what I wish with you. I will not harm you, as long as you do exactly as you are told. And, as I am also a very accomplished Legilimens, if I get so much of a hint that you are going to betray me, either now or in the future, I will have resort to, er, drastic measures. I do not want to have to place the Imperious Curse on you, Wormtail."

Draco was regarding both of them curiously. "It worked, then?" Snape rolled his eyes. "Look, I was just making sure, okay? More than just my life's at stake here..."

"Touching. Have no fear, Draco, my brilliant plan worked," Snape said sarcastically. "For the moment, your mother is safe. As your father is in Azkaban, I think we can assume that he is as well."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked in a small voice. Snape didn't answer. When he spoke again it was to Wormtail:

"I made an Unbreakable Vow with Draco's mother that he would not be harmed. Your job, Wormtail, will be to make sure that it stays that way. I am going to send him somewhere that he will be safe and hidden. You will accompany him, as a rat, and make regular reports to me to assure me that all is well. You will not repeat what you have heard here tonight, and you will not reenter the Dark Lord's service, as he will believe that you're dead. If you do, the consequences will be most unpleasant. Do you understand?"

"What!" Draco exclaimed, jumping off the couch. "You're sending me with him? Are you mad?"

Snape pushed Draco back onto the couch. "Be silent, Draco. You haven't answered me, Wormtail. And do not even think about lying. Do-you-understand?"

Wormtail whimpered slightly, but nodded. "Y-yes."

Snape glared at him for a moment but seemed satisfied. "Very well."

Draco looked mutinous. "This is ridiculous! You have gone mad, You-Know-Who did something to you while I was.. whatever I was over there! You can't possibly think I'll be safe with him. Why can't I stay with you?"

"I assure you, you will be safe. You cannot stay with me, because I am sure that the Dark Lord will be making more frequent visits to me after what happened tonight at Hogwarts. You cannot be around if he drops by unexpectedly. It would be a surprise, to say the least, if he caught you here after I lied to him most effectively about your death. Furthermore, I have orders of my own for what I am to be doing with my time."

"What are you going to be doing?" Draco asked eagerly.

"What I have always done," Snape replied, coolly.

Draco frowned. "Where are you sending me, then?"

"Leavesden," Snape replied, going over to a pitiful little desk in the corner. He pointed his wand at the armchair, which zoomed over to him, leaving a trail on the dusty floor. Sitting down, he took out a quill, ink, and parchment from the desk and began to write. "I have an... acquaintance there. I have made arrangements for you to stay with him. I believe you will be well guarded, as I am quite sure no one in our world knows of his existence."

"And this bloke's okay with it, is he?" Draco asked, sounding unconvinced.

"He was reluctant at first but I...persuaded him to come around." Snape didn't say any more on the subject, but continued to write, the scratching of his quill the only sound. He dipped his quill in the ink again, and said, "I think it would be wise for the two of you to stay here until morning. There is another hidden room in the basement of this house. I suggest you stay there." He put down his quill and rolled up the parchment, sealing it magically, and handed it to Draco. "Give this to him when you arrive. You will have to open it for him, and then I think that is the last bit of magic that you should do for some time. At least until things are settled."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why would I have to open it for him?"

"Because I sealed it with magic," Snape said in a tone that he would have used if he was talking to someone very dense. "And seeing as he is a Muggle, he will not be able to open it."

Draco's eyes almost bugged out of his head. "A Muggle? You're-"

"If you insinuate one more time that I've gone mad I'm going to give you another dose of Living Death," Snape said, tiredly. "Do you think I'm stupid, Mr. Malfoy? Do you think I would just send you off with anyone without any careful planning?"

Comprehension dawned on Draco's face. "You knew I wasn't going to do it, didn't you? You've been planning this all along, waiting for me to screw up-"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told you at Hogwarts: You are behaving like a child. You were concerned about your fame and glory when I tried to council you at school, and now I am going out of my way to ensure you're safety and you blatantly accuse me of plotting your 'screw up', as you so eloquently put it. What do you want me to tell you, Draco? What do you want to hear? That it was all a setup? That you never were intended to kill Dumbledore? It was all some elaborate ploy?"

Draco's gaze didn't falter. "Was it?" he asked.

The two of them stared at each other, Draco glaring, Snape remaining stonily silent. "Make sure he gets that note," Snape said finally, and without another word he went back into the kitchen and opened a door in the floor. "The door is on the far wall, left of the portrait. The both of you are to remain there until I retrieve you tomorrow morning." Wormtail squeaked and hurried down the hidden stairs without having to be told twice. Draco, however, continued to glare at Snape from the sitting room. Snape walked over to him menacingly. "Go," he hissed at him.

"I'm not a child," Draco told him. "I've had to grow up a lot over this past year, and I have a right to know what's going on. I need to know."

Snape studied him, his dark eyes glinting. "Now is not the time, Draco. And as much as you think you've grown up, you are not yet an adult. You think you've seen horrible things... done horrible things? You have no idea what the people in this world are capable of, and you have yet to see anything remotely horrible, I can promise you. Now, join Wormtail downstairs. I will come and collect you in the morning."

Draco looked for a second like he was about to try and continue the argument. But, with one more withering look at Snape, he retreated into the kitchen and down the stairs. Snape followed and closed the trap door, making it again seamless against the dirty tiles of the kitchen floor.

Snape went back into his ruined sitting room. He looked around at the fallen books, some badly damaged now - spines torn and pages ripped out. The wooden chair still lay in pieces on the floor. With an almost irritated sigh, he took out his wand and pointed at the objects on the floor. They immediately repaired themselves and went back to their original positions - the books neatly on their shelves, the chair whole once more. He retrieved Draco's wand, which had rolled over by one of the bookshelves when he had thrown it. Placing it on the rickety old desk, he sat back down in the armchair and began to examine the places where Voldemort had healed him. He noticed, with no surprise, that there was a significant amount of scarring. He repaired his torn clothes with another wave of his wand, and with yet another he extinguished the candles in the ceiling lamp. He then sat alone in the dark and the gloom, the rustling of the wind and the occasional creak of a board the only break in the constant silence.

Meanwhile, a great distance away, a sixteen year-old boy was in a hospital wing, also retelling events that had taken place earlier that night, while a slow, mournful tune played across the grounds and drifted through the open windows.