Chapter 11 - A Connection Is Made

The skies were grey, hiding the sun as rain beat against the windows in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was sitting beside the window, his potions essay in his lap and a pile of textbooks at his side. Ron was sitting across from him, staring absentmindedly into space as he munched on a chocolate frog. He seemed more concerned about working his way through the collection of sweets that had accumulated on the couch than doing home work.

"So, what's the latest on Snape? He hasn't croaked or anything, has he?" asked Ron, sounding rather hopeful.

"No, he hasn't. Last I heard he was finally released from the hospital wing earlier this morning," Harry answered, not looking up from his essay. "But they're trying to keep quiet about it, and they haven't said anything about if or when he'll go back to teaching classes."

"That greasy ole git is going to have to give up his job as Potions Master if this keeps up. Oh, not Dumbledore again!"

Harry looked up from his essay and saw Ron toss a trading card of Dumbledore down onto a growing pile of chocolate frog cards that was spread out on the couch. "Are you going to eat all of those chocolate frogs in one go?" he asked, grinning at the look of disappointment on his friend's face.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Depends on what we're having for dinner this evening. If it's tuna caserole again, I'd rather fill up on sweets instead. Unless, of course, you can get Hermione to transfigure that slop into something nice like roast beef." He unwrapped another chocolate frog, taking a bite and chewing it slowly. "You don't think this illness is serious enough to force him to take an early retirement, do you?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, returning to his essay and crossing out several lines. "Worst case scenario, we'll end up with Slughorn taking Snape's place a little while longer."

"Why would that be a worst case scenario? Be a bit of an improvement, if you ask me."

Their conversation was interrupted when Hermione walked in. She was carrying a heavy book bag, which she unceremoniously dumped on the couch next to Ron and his mountain of cards.

"Watch it!" Ron exclaimed, as several of his cards scattered onto the floor.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. Don't you think you ought to be doing something more constructive? We have three essays due by Friday, and here you are, still playing with your cards and stuffing your face."

Ron was on his hands and knees, his butt in the air as he looked under the table for the cards that has sailed under the furniture. Hermione had to lean back in her seat to avoid having a close encounter with Ron's arse as he backed up against the couch.

"But I did work on my essay, Hermione," came Ron's voice from under the table. "It's there on the couch. Don't you see it?"

Hermione looked at the pile of sweets, and spied a sheet of parchment peeking out from beneath some thin, plastic wrappers. There were sticky, brown blotches on the parchment, the entire essay stained with bits of chocolate. She picked up the soiled piece of parchment, holding it with two fingers like it was a dirty diaper. "How charming." She then turned her attention to Harry, and was pleased to see that at least one of them was working.

Ron gathered his cards and flopped down in the couch next to Hermione. "And what about you?" he said with a nod in Harry's direction. "You still working on your essay? It's not due until next week, you know. We've got plenty of time."

"I know that," said Harry. "But I've been doing better in potions class. So I thought I'd go ahead and get a jump start on things."

Ron chuckled and reached for another chocolate frog. "Of course you've been doing better, mate. It's because we haven't had Snape breathing down our necks."

"Not necessarily." Harry reached into his book bag and took out a worn, tattered textbook. "It's because of this book I got this last week. Go on. Take a look." And with that he placed an old copy of Advanced Potion Making on the table for his friends to look at.

Ron munched on his frog as he looked at the book on the table. "What's so special about that?" he asked around a mouthful of frog.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing really. But whoever owned this book scribbled some really useful information all over the pages."

Hermione picked up the book, looking at it with suspicion. "You're following instructions from this old thing?" She opened the book, and saw a peculiar message written in an untidy scrawl across the back cover. It was barely legible, but there in bright green letters were the words "This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince."

.oOo.

The rains increased steadily throughout the evening, drumming on the windows as Severus climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office. It seemed the higher he climbed the louder it got, until the heavy sound of pouring rain was assaulting his ears, making his aching head pound with each drop of water that hit the windows.

He longed for the peaceful silence that filled the dungeons, far away from the noise of the storm. He didn't feel like crawling out of bed and hauling himself up the steps, not when he could be relaxing in front of the fireplace with a hot cup of tea. But he had an important meeting with the headmaster regarding the night Selebi had found him in the woods.

Step by step he climbed, higher and higher, as the sun set behind a mass of bruised and blackened clouds. He was cursed, he was ill and exhausted, he might even be dying, but his bold spirit and fierce determination kept him moving forward. He didn't come this far just to curl up and die on Albus' doorstep. He raised his hand and knocked on the door, and was welcomed in where he took a seat opposite the headmaster at his desk.

Dumbledore noticed right away how worn Severus looked, his face flushed with perspiration standing out on his forehead like a galaxy of fine dots. The Potions Master all but collapsed into the chair, his left arm hanging limply at his side, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"Severus, I feel I must offer you my apologies. If I had known it would be such a struggle for you to reach me, I would have come to you instead."

The dark man said nothing, his hand reaching in his pocket and withdrawing a silken handkerchief that he used to wipe the sweat off his face. He found that if he leaned back and scooted forward in his seat, it relieved some of the pressure that was closing around his heart and lungs, making it somewhat easier for him to breathe.

Severus repositioned himself, making himself as comfortable as he could, then began his tale about the night Selebi found him, explaining in great detail about the snake attack, the boy who called himself Voldemort's son, and how Novox had created a curse that effected those within Voldemort's ranks who were not loyal to him.

"So, Voldemort has a son," Dumbledore quietly stated.

The dark man flinched when he heard Dumbledore say his name. "Yes Albus. But I haven't the faintest idea who the child's mother is. Simply knowing who the father is does not offer us any clues as to who the mother might be."

"No, I'm afraid it does not. But this is worrisome information, Severus. The fact that Voldemort has a child could mean disaster for the wizarding world if he is anything like his father."

"That is highly unlikely. Personality is one thing, strength and magical skill is another. As powerful as the Dark Lord is, it would be difficult for his offspring to possess as much power as he has. Besides, the Dark Lord is much older and wiser, and has accumulated a great deal knowledge and strength. The boy is hiding in his father's shadow, and isn't likely to posses any sort of substantial skills or abilities."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his lap. "Be that as it may, the boy still counts as an added member among Voldemort's ranks. And although he lacks the fierce, unrestrained power that his father has, if he has but a single ounce of his father's intelligence, he will have all he needs to become a formidable foe. You of all people should know, Severus, that a wizard with a brilliant mind can accomplish great things."

Severus couldn't help the smirk that formed on his thin lips. "I once was a Death Eater bent on serving the Dark Lord and destroying you. I don't think that counts as striving to accomplish great things, Albus."

"You were smart enough to steer clear of that lifestyle before it brought about any unfortunate consequences," Dumbledore stated calmly.

"No, that is not true." Severus' gaze faltered and he stared down at the desk infront of him. "I was not wise enough to see the error of my ways until it was too late."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Too late you say?"

"For her..." His voice was no more than a breathy whisper, harsh and low in his throat. His right hand gripped the arm of the chair, and his body tensed as he felt a wealth of emotions constricting his chest, adding to the weight that was pressing against his lungs. "You know why I'm here, Albus. You know that I cared not for my own safety, but for her and her alone." He paused, looking deep into the headmaster's bright, blue twinkling eyes, and softly murmured, "I was a fool, Albus."

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His arm was aching again, but the pain that pulsed through his aching heart was far greater. "Lily's son," he said slowly. "Why is it that he suffers at precisely the same moment I do? I should think that the burden of my actions would be mine alone to bear. Why should he suffer the consequences of what I've done? Is it not enough that Lily had to die because of me? Must Potter now suffer as well?"

"So you've been informed of his collapse on the night you were admitted to the hospital," Dumbledore said serenely, a faint smile flickering across his face.

"Indeed I have."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully as he pondered Severus' question. "I believe this may have something to do with the connection forged between Harry's mind and Lord Voldemort. I assume you remember the Occlumency lessons you gave Harry last year, and the reasons why he required them?"

A sneer twisted Severus' lips as he remembered how Harry had managed to pry into his memories. His look of contempt told Dumbledore all he needed to know.

"I see that you can only offer Harry so much concern before your patience runs low," Dumbledore said, chuckling at the disgusted expression on Severus' face.

Severus frowned and shifted his gaze away from Dumbledore. "I'm afraid that I can only tolerate so much when it pertains to matters of my past," he said dryly. "I bear him no love, that much is clear. I'm not doing this for him, I'm doing this for her."

"It is still an action carried out with love and good intent, Severus. Your heart is in the right place, even though your main focus is and always will be on Lily."

The dark man suddenly rose from his chair and headed for the door. He couldn't stand listening to them talk about his former lover. And recalling the moment when Harry was able to witness his worst memory made his blood boil.

"Now wait just a moment, Severus," Dumbledore said, placing his hands on his desk and rising from his seat. "We have not yet finished our discussion."

Severus stopped, his hand on the doorknob with his back towards the older man. He was still, listening and waiting for Dumbledore to continue speaking.

"Now, as I was saying, I believe that Harry's connection to Voldemort has something to do with this. This curse, as you described it, is caused by a variation of the spell used to conjure the dark mark, correct?"

"Yes." Severus' voice was smooth, like water gliding over silk. He kept his back towards Dumbledore as he spoke, ready to leave at a moment's notice should the conversation take an unpleasant turn.

"And Lord Voldemort's son is responsible for altering the spell?"

"That is correct."

"Well, in that case I'd say the answer is quite simple. Harry is effected by this because they both share a connection that links them together. You are bound to Lord Voldemort by your mark, Voldemort's son is bound to him by blood. All four of you are bound together, which transfers your pain to Harry via the link you share."

"I see." Severus did not sound pleased to hear this. "Albus," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "When will this end?"

"I'm afraid that this will continue until Voldemort has passed from this world," Dumbledore replied.

"That's not what I meant!" Severus spat.

"And yet my answer remains the same. I know what you meant, Severus. And if your curse can not be cured by normal means, then the only other course of action would be to destroy Lord Voldemort. When he, his son, and his followers are no more, then you and Harry will be free."

"No, Albus. Some of us will never be free."