1981

by Iva1201

Chapter 11: Welcoming the Prodigal – Part 1


A/N: Betaed by cardigrl. Thank you!

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Corridor in front of the Potions Classroom

September, 1976

Potions – Snape had always loved the class, even with Slughorn teaching it. He supposed that was partly because of Lily, who enjoyed the subject as much as he did and with whom he was – unbelievable as it might sound given they were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin – genuine friends. Well, at least they once used to be... Now, though, Severus had the best of reasons to dread the class – because of Lily Evans once again.

Potions was to be their first class together after that unfortunate incident during the OWLs; the first meeting he couldn't very well avoid after the afternoon he had called her a filthy little Mudblood and she had told him that he ought to wash his pants.

Was one summer enough to forgive and forget? Severus pondered, nervously pacing the empty dungeon corridor in front of the classroom. His answer was negative. No, not even close! One can't forgive and forget such humiliation... But then, Lily was never part of the Marauders' prank. She… she wanted – he hated it! - to help him. Nothing more and nothing less – something friends should do for each other... And he called her that name... Snape bit his lip – again wondering if he was able to swallow his pride and apologize.

He didn't think he was up to it. And then, suddenly, Lily arrived, still much sooner than the others, and they shared the silent corridor as they had done many times in the past. He remembered her speaking to him in the same place for the first time after their Sorting and shuddered over the loss. With a careful side glance, Severus saw that the girl's face was showing similar emotional turmoil – but still, both of them continued to avoid the eyes of the other until the rest of the NEWT students arrived and Slughorn invited the class inside.

Solely out of habit, they each took their accustomed seats in the first row and let Slughorn babble enthusiastically about their Outstanding performances in the OWLs. In any other situation, they would probably be glancing at each other right now with slightly ironic smiles. But that unconditional understanding was now sadly over.

Sharing one workbench probably wouldn't have helped to settle their argument – if Lily hadn't been entirely too nervous in unpacking her books and Potions set. As the vials fell from her suddenly clumsy fingers and threatened to shatter in a thousand little pieces on the floor, Severus – purely out of instinct – stretched out his hand and caught the set. Handing it back to Lily, their gazes met for the first time since that unfortunate summer day, and they both saw the other's embarrassment and nervousness. "Thank you," came from Lily and "I am sorry," from the boy in the same moment. At this, Lily chuckled, happy sparkles glittering in her kind green eyes. Severus felt the corners of his lips turn up at the sight. "Friends?" Lily whispered and he nodded, both grateful and ashamed, reaching for his own Advanced Potions Making text...

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Little Hangleton

The night of the Dark Lord's return

June, 1995

When a quiet pop announced the arrival of a newcomer and a dark-haired man appeared in the swirl of the accustomed black robes, Lucius Malfoy silently swore. Damn you, Severus! he thought. You Gryffindor idiot! Whatpossessed you to come here now? Can't you give Him at leasta few days to recall that you are more – much more - than just a Dumbledore protégé?

Lord Voldemort had been resurrected for only a few short hours, but he had already managed to restore fearful respect in his followers. When the dark wizard announced that there would be men killed from their midst earlier that evening, Lucius tried not to think of Snape. Severus had become much too close to the old Hogwarts' Headmaster in recent years even for his liking. Surely, the Dark Lord would take it even more seriously… And Severus must have known this much!

Not that Igor wouldn't be an even bigger idiot – priding himself in the safety of Durmstrang's walls when everyone knew that the magical schools were as much dependent on the strength of their heads as their Headmasters and Headmistresses were able to lean on their power… The Dark Lord would surely kill him without a thought just forthat impertinence! Lucius shuddered inwardly, recalling the burnt corpse of Narcissa's cousin, and feeling the ache of tonight's punishment in his own body…

The Dark Lord rose behind Lucius's back at the sight of the newcomer, his lips twisted in a dangerous smile. "The prodigal son… how unexpected," he whispered with clear interest and moved towards the young Professor.

Snape felt to his knees. "My Lord," he spoke to the ground. "Forgive me for being late…"

"I am not interested in your reasons!" The Dark Lord's voice hurt like a blow of a whip. The dark wizard drew his wand. "Nor I am interested in how you want to justify all the years you spent as Dumbledore's lapdog, Snape! Didn't you think I would remember that it was you who saved the Potter boy?" Voldemort hissed, his menacing figure looming over Snape.

Severus felt as if his heart had stopped. So this is the end, he thought bitterly. Someone saw what happened in Godric's Hollow that night…But had he ever been ashamed of what he did there? Most certainly not, Snape answered himself. At least in retrieving the boy from the house, he fulfilled – entirely too insufficiently – his obligation and promise to Lily...

Severus decided that he didn't want to die like a coward now – not when he hadn't betrayed himself in the past decade. Slowly, he willed the tension in his body to disappear and looked up, his Occlumency shields thankfully still firmly in place. His voice proud, the young man answered clearly, "No, my Lord. I knew you would remember."

"And that I do, my unloyal servant, that I do…" the older wizard's voice was cold. "But I wonder, Severus, why are you here tonight if you knew… Shall we find out?" Voldemort asked in a low voice, raised his wand, and exclaimed, "Crucio!"

Snape desperately tried to remain quiet while his body uncontrollably whimpered and twitched on the ground, but at last, he couldn't keep his teeth clenched together for any longer. He let out a painful cry, one that couldn't have left anyone doubting about the agony he suffered. A twisted, deeply satisfied smile appeared on Voldemort's face at the sound; the assembled Death Eaters, however, followed the happenings rather impassively, probably only too grateful that their own punishment was over for now…

The Dark Lord held Snape under the spell a long time – too long for there not to have been damage. When, finally, Voldemort wordlessly lowered the wand and with a quiet sweep of his expensive silk robes returned to his seat, Lucius inwardly sighed in relief. For the Dark Lord, this was still a lesser punishment – one that damaged but did not destroy...Snapemightstill survive this.

Maintaining his silence, the Dark Lord lowered himself on his throne-like chair, his red eyes fixed on his spy. The Death Eaters stood unmoving in the circle around him, presenting a strange ensemble of black clad figurines; Snape was prostrate in their middle, his breathing heavy, blood freely running down his face and neck from where he bit through his lip. Severus knew what was expected from him now – but it took some time to catch his breath enough to manage it.

Thankfully, the Dark Lord decided to be patient for once. Severus knew to appreciate the fact. When he finally managed to breath the required "Thank you, my Lord," it actually sounded genuinely grateful. Severus fainted only a few seconds later – hoping against all odds that he would be allowed to live...

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When Snape regained consciousness some time later, they were alone. He, lying in a puddle of his blood and other bodily fluids he didn't care to identify, and Voldemort, sitting on his high chair, his long fingers playing with the returned wand. "Awake again, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked quietly. "I know that you are sane so you may as well answer me!"

The Professor couldn't react vocally right then but his face still revealed much more than he was accustomed to… Voldemort smiled at the incredulous expression on his spy's face. So, you expected to be insane or dead by now, Severus, he smirked. Aloud, however, he stated only a calm, "I have better uses for you, Severus, than to let you rot in St. Mungo's. Even disloyal, you have your value for me…

But then, we never resolved this, did we, Severus?" The wizard once again raised his wand and Snape unwillingly shuddered. The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed into two red glinting slits and his gaze bored into Snape's. "So, Severus, how is it - are you loyal to me or to the old fool? Show me!" he commanded and flicked his wand. "Legilimens!"

The memories of the past fifteen years were running through the former Death Eater's head, but the Dark Lord did not realize they were in the order Dumbledore and Snape thought best for the occasion. Unexpectedly, Voldemort never reached for the memory of Godric's Hollow on that unfortunate Halloween's night fourteen years ago; instead, he concentrated on Potter's first year in Hogwarts. "Why did you protect the boy?" Voldemort hissed in Snape's head, and Severus finally understood what he had been asked about before.

"My Lord, I assume you are speaking about the brat's first year in Hogwarts?" he asked quietly when the connection broke and he finally recovered his equilibrium as he managed to remain standing – even if only on very shaky legs. "Dumbledore told me later you were there with Quirrell... I regret you never revealed yourself to me. I might have assisted you, my Lord." Snape bowed his head, a pained expression on his face.

"And could I have trusted you, Severus?" Voldemort inquired and his eyes narrowed again. "Or would you have run to Dumbeldore?"

Severus looked up, suddenly grateful for the arguments he had had with Dumbledore back in that year. Projecting the memory of them on the front of his mind, he answered without even a slight hesitation. "You were present at all my encounters with Quirrell, my Lord. You surely know that I never reported him to Dumbledore until the very end. I was... hopeful... that he was working for you... in the beginning, at least... But – forgive me, my Lord," Snape cast his eyes down again, "Quirrell was too incompetent to succeed on his own... and I, unfortunately, formed the impression that he was interested only in his personal gain..."

Now, Severus completely bowed his head and only very quietly admitted, "I am deeply ashamed of the fact, my Lord, but my main interest at that time was to remain in Dumbledore's good graces. I... I ask you for your forgiveness, my Lord. I believed you dead." Severus swallowed and awaited the blow. The Dark Lord must have known what they all – except Bellatrix, maybe – had thought, but Snape was probably the first one to voice it in front of the man... and now rightfully expected to be the first one to be punished as well.

When he was spared another round of Cruciatus, Severus – immensely surprised – carefully looked up. He saw that Voldemort observed him with open curiosity. "My Lord?" Snape asked.

"I see you have decided to be most frank with me this evening, Severus," the Dark Lord quietly said in reply.

Snape wasn't sure if the statement was meant to be positive or negative, as his one-time master's voice was emotionless. He resolved therefore to give a simple nod of obedience. "My Lord."

Voldemort surveyed him thoughtfully. "You have always been clever, Severus," the Dark Lord said after a while, a dangerous smile playing on his thin lips. "Much too clever for your own good. But I always knew to appreciate your value. Tell me now – has the old fool ever really recognized your talents?" Voldemort smirked. "You are still teaching Potions, Severus, aren't you? If he really trusted you, wouldn't he give you your real heart's desire? "

Snape's expression clouded. "He claims to trust me..." he mumbled, doubt creeping into his voice, "but he says that he would be unhappy if my devotion to the Dark Arts," Snape let his past passion be heard in his voice, " would bring on a relapse..."

"He does, doesn't he?" Voldemort darkly chuckled. "And still you are here tonight to prove him wrong..." Snape could detect a hint of curiosity in the voice. Shall he tell the truth now?the Professor wondered, and resolved that it might be the best course of action. Too many lies – even if supported by the strongest Occlumency – were after all only too difficult to keep.

"I am here on his bidding now, my Lord," Snape admitted, his eyes directed to Voldemort's evil red gaze and a light smirk played on his lips. "I trusted that you would value my undisturbed contact with him. Should you be so inclined, Dumbeldore trusts me his now more than he ever did before; he has already asked me to spy on you for his Order. Sadly, he doesn't see that I am more interested in spying on the Order and him for you, my Lord." Snape bent his neck, finding in the depths of his mind the long past devotion to their cause and the dark man in front of him. With them in the front of his mind, he sounded most sincere.

Voldemort observed him without a word. Snape held his breath – the end of their conversation was drawing close, he was sure. But he knew also that the questioning was not yet over...

"What will you do if I commanded you to bring me Potter?" Voldemort indeed inquired just a moment later.

And here it comes, Snape thought. "Nothing," he dared, "if you still wanted me to keep my position in Hogwarts. Everything necessary, should you wish otherwise, my Lord." Snape looked at the man in front of him and again lowered his head in a gesture of servitude.

For a while, it was completely silent. Then, however, Voldemort burst into unpleasant laughter. "You have grown reckless, Severus," Voldemort commented, his voice strangely amused. "I wonder how Dumbledore holds with this temper of yours."

"He burdens me with the care of that insufferable brat." Snape grimaced. "Hoping in vain that I will turn a dedicated caretaker."

"That sounds very much like him." The Dark Lord nodded, lips thinned in an ugly smile. "Then I entrust you with care of the boy for me as well, Professor Snape. I promise that I won't be displeased, should the boy happen into something unpleasant..." Voldemort laughed again. "But you shall first ensure that the old fool doesn't realize anything… I indeed do appreciate your closeness to him. Very clever, Severus, waiting on his bidding to come here tonight – very clever." The dark man held his servant with an appreciative gaze. You have grown up, Snape, he thought.

"Come, Severus," Voldemort gestured at the younger man then, "we need to return to the rest. The night is growing short and there is still much that needs to be dealt with..."

Snape nodded with a hint of gratitude and limped behind him.

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster's Office

April, 1981

When the dark silhouette in the far distance finally stopped hesitantly lingering around the gate leading to Hogwarts' grounds and the figure stepped on the school's property, Albus Dumbledore sighed in relief. The long minutes he had spent watching his visitor's indecision had worried him. Now, however, when the young man had safely passed the gate specially enchanted for the occasion, Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, and turned from the window back to his desk.

"So, Severus, you mean no harm to Hogwarts. The wards wouldn't let you in, if you did," the old wizard mumbled while seating himself behind his enormous table that was, as ever, overloaded with paperwork.

Absentmindedly, the old man reached for the boy's letter. Holding it, the old man tapped his bearded chin and again voiced his thoughts: "A matter of utter importance you need my help with, you say, Severus… Now, my boy, you will have to be more forthcoming if you indeed look for my assistance…"

"Precisely my words, Dumbledore." Phineas Nigellus Black quietly smirked from his frame. "The ungrateful brats always think that we have nothing else to worry about than their pitiful arses!"

Armando Dippet and a few others of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses, who were still awake, admonished the Slytherin's language with sounds of disagreement. "Phineas!" Professor Dippet in particular called at his predecessor in reprimand, his old, wrinkled face showing a deep disappointment. "Those brats you speak about – an ugly word, really – are children under our care whom we are sworn to protect! Do you not remember your vow to guide them through the difficult years of their growing-up and acquiring magical education? We are supposed to help them, Phineas, not to do the opposite – even if it may be too late sometimes…" his voice grew sad at the thought of Tom Riddle and faded off.

"Thank you, Armando," one of the stern looking witches with old-fashioned spectacles nodded in agreement, taking up the debate. "There are not many things Phineas wouldn't remember clearly from either his life or the years his portrait spent hanging here and listening in to the conversation had in this room. You don't have to remind him of his vows. On the other hand, Dumbledore," she turned her eyes to the present owner of the Headmaster's suite, "the majority of us doesn't agree with your decision to give this boy another chance. You explained to him often enough what the dangers of the Dark magic were."

The witch looked at her painted colleagues for confirmation and received agreeable nods from all the sides. Some, among them Professor Dippet, opted to retain a neutral, if concerned, expression. Only Dilys Derwent unmistakably shook her head in disagreement.

"Do you want to add something, Dilys?" asked the other witch asked, sounding offended. She continued, her expression becoming even more severe. "Might we inquire as to why you think the boy Dumbledore here caught spying on him only several months ago more redeemable than the rest of us do?"

The old mediwitch smiled sadly. "Like in illness, also in life, it is never too late to hope. I have seen many miracles during my years in St. Mungo's and I refuse to decline a helping hand to a misguided boy who obviously happened to have a difficult life… Also, I have seen this boy often enough in St. Mungo's in recent years to know he was not an uncaring person. And, my dear, who of the most gifted wizards didn't fancy the Dark Arts at some point of their lives?" She pointedly looked at Dumbledore. "The biggest strength of a wizard doesn't lie in his power – no, the biggest strength is that we find it in ourselves to fight the temptation and turn away from the easier, yet dangerous ways. I, for myself, completely agree with Albus that people should be given another chance."

Fawkes squeaked his support to Dilys Derwent's statement from his perch in the back of the room and turned his magnificent head to his master. Dumbledore set Snape's letter aside and beamed at the old Headmistress. "Thank you, Dilys and you all, for your opinions." Dumbledore let his eyes wander over the painted faces of his predecessors. The majority of them pretended to be (or genuinely were) asleep by now. Dilys was kindly smiling at him, while Phineas wore his usual smirk and Dippet had a genuinely worried expression.

Dumbledore gave all of them another grateful nod for their comments; then the old man's eyes left the portraits and rested on the Phoenix. Fawkes inclined his head to the side, his black coral eyes curiously peering at his master as if the Phoenix would ask a question.

Albus Dumbledore had probably understood the gesture, as he stood and approached the bird's perch. There, the Headmaster raised one hand to caress the Phoenix's rich plumage and quietly said, "Yes, I can't deny that I am hopeful, Fawkes. But I am also much too aware that I may be hoping in vain. I promise you that I won't keep my hopes high… I saw the boy last year myself after all, and I fear that there is no doubt on whose bidding he was in Hogsmeade." The old man sighed.

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