A Kindred Spirit
Disclaimer : The characters and basic plot belong to JK Rowling.
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There are times when you find yourself in a bottomless pit, smothered in darkness. Nothing can ever be right again. All sparks of joy, love, hope or any positive feeling have died out forever. This can happen without a Dementor's help. Life has a way of generating its own Dementorless dementia.
When this happens, there is no point in life any more, except, in certain cases, if you are lucky, a debt or a sense of duty.
That was what kept Severus Snape alive after Professor Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall had left him alone for the first time since the world was without Lily.
That morning, Severus had resumed teaching. He had deducted two hundred points from Gryffindor, a hundred from Hufflepuff, fifty from Ravenclaw and twenty from Slytherin. Neither Dumbledore or any of the Heads of houses had dared object. His white face and hollow empty eyes had terrified many of the students.
After loading all the classes with homework, he had walked back to his living quarters like an automaton activated only by the bitter fuel of duty.
Dumbledore had decided he was "better", and therefore could be left alone, ready to take responsibility for the rest of his life. Minerva... When you are at the bottom of the pit, you don't question Minerva's whereabouts or motives. You don't question anything. You just lie on your bed and close your eyes not to stare at the low stone ceiling.
You empty your mind because not doing so might tempt you to reach out for an overdose of Draught of the Living Death.
Inhale. Exhale. Out, Lily. Inhale. Exhale. Out, pain. Inhale. Exhale. Out, Lily.
I don't deserve to live.
Would it be so terrible if I died? Who would miss me?
Mother.
The Slytherin students.
And the child. Her child.
Dreamless sleep potion would help. Or better, Draught of the Living Death, properly dosed.
Severus dragged himself up, towards his office.
"Please," he moaned at the bloodstain-covered ghost that was hovering between himself and the Draught of the Living Death.
"As Slyterin ghost, I have certain duties here," remarked the Bloody Baron.
"Please, not now."
"Now it has to be, my dear fellow. Do you remember questioning why I had given my afterlife to Hogwarts?"
Severus looked hopelessly at the ghost. He might have had questions, long ago, but all was irrelevant now, except the jar of potion right behind the Bloody Baron's left
shoulder.
"Please..."
"I am going to answer a question you once asked, now that you have lost interest in the answer. You were one of the most brilliant among our Slytherin students."
"Not that it has helped me or anyone else."
"My dear chap, like you and many others - so many you would be surprised - I ruined my earthly life with my mistakes, and the blind following of my passions. Like you, I was tempted to end it all and no one came to stop me when I pierced myself with my sword..."
"You did that to yourself?"
Severus's interest was awoken.
"I did. At the time, it seemed the only honourable thing to do."
"Why?"
"Ah, fellow friend in pain, I killed the woman I loved..."
Severus closed his eyes. Even in death was there no escape?
"She chose to stay at Hogwarts to expiate for her sins. How could I not do the same?"
"Has she... has she forgiven you?"
"How could she, my dear friend? I killed her most cruelly in a fit of temper."
"I... I didn't kill her. I... It was a mistake. I never meant... I never expected..."
"And you intelligently chose to expiate your fault by staying alive. You made the right choice. I, as Slytherin ghost doomed to eternal expiation, have the duty to warn you, especially you, who have been made the youngest Head of Slytherin house ever : your death should be blameless."
"But she will never forgive me."
"Even if she doesn't, you must reach a point where you forgive yourself."
"That can never happen."
"If you give your life to protect your enemy's child, how can you not forgive yourself? I have missed the chance to learn from my mistakes, but it is never too late to teach others. Even though my physical body disintegrated centuries ago, I am still here to talk to you, to tell you my story."
"You think she will never forgive you?"
"You see, centuries of haunting this castle have taught me that though everyone is too wrapped up in his own pain to notice this, no story is unique. Tragedies repeat themselves : love, betrayal, disappointment. They all seem to end in death, though they haven't really ended."
"So you think there is still hope?"
The Bloody Baron adopted a comfortable sitting position in mid-air, still in front of the Draught of Living Death.
"Helena is forever beautiful," he said. "I believed her to be wise. I hope one day, perhaps in a few centuries, she will cease to be blinded by human passions. Until then I must expiate... and we must work together, my dear fellow. It is to us the future of Slytherin has been entrusted. We are to teach these youngsters how to move beyond pain and betrayal, and we must watch out for them. It is a heavy task, one the Friar or Nick could never carry out."
"Or Pomona or Minerva."
"As for Helena..."
"And Filius...?" said Severus, suddenly realising who Helena was.
"Ravenclaws seek wisdom," said the Bloody Baron. "We can only hope they find it."
There was a short silence.
"My job is to guard all potentially lethal potions from you, my friend. Death is tempting and though your company would be less disagreeable to me than some others I can think of... No, Severus, you should not join me. I must remain the only ghost of Slytherin. I allow you to take one spoonful of the potion, but that is all."
The Bloody Baron moved aside. Slowly, Severus reached for the bottle.
"Beware, young man, I am watching you... till the end of your days."
The Baron disappeared. Severus poured himself one spoonful of Draught of the Living Death. To be truthful, he wasn't tempted to take more. Not now, at least. He would go to sleep and forget and get up in the morning and teach. And even if Dumbledore and Minerva didn't visit him, he was not alone. He had found a kindred spirit.