This chapter should have been posted yesterday, and is only being posted now. My apologies, tigergirl1723.
A Study in Friendship
Chapter Nineteen
Harry frowned in disgust at the words the solemn wizard in black robes was uttering over Dumbledore's grave. "Nobility of spirit... Intellectual contribution..." The man obviously knew Dumbledore only by reputation.
Who wrote this politically correct, completely lacking in heart eulogy? Surely Dumbledore deserved to have a personal and heartfelt goodbye. He deserved to have someone speak of his mischievousness, of the fact that no matter how brilliant he was, or how many titles he possessed, he always treated everyone as equals. The tufty-haired man should be speaking of that, no of his "Open-minded attitude". Harry glared at the wizard, hoping to wandlessly set fire to his hat.
A hand tapped him. It was Luna, accompanied by Neville and Ginny. "We're getting out of here," Ginny told him "to give Dumbledore his own sendoff, a proper one. Want to come?"
Harry happily got up, and Hermione and Ron followed him. He could only imagine what Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill would have to say about this sudden departure from the funeral, "In a desperate bid for attention, disturbed Potter hooligan demonstratively leaves funeral in the middle of beloved Headmaster's eulogy." but it didn't matter. He had come here to mourn Dumbledore, and he wanted to do it properly, there was a lot of history between the two of them.
It was especially hard, having to listen to the dark robed wizard speak of a 'long and full life' and being the only one to know that the life could have been much longer and fuller. He was probably the only person there who knew that Dumbledore hadn't simply tripped, he had been murdered. Snape wasn't there, as far as he could tell, and Harry was glad of it. If he did see Snape, Harry didn't know if he would be able to stop himself from attacking him right then and there. He was glad to quickly follow his friends off the lawn and into Hogwarts.
Despite the fact that the summer holidays had yet to end, the doors to Hogwarts were wide open. They made their way quietly to the Room of Requirement undisturbed, meeting no one.
The room opened for them, brightly lit and comfortably furnished with couches colored in a red and gold that reminded Harry of Fawkes's plumage. On the wall hung a black-and-white picture of Dumbledore laughing.
Two bottles of Firewhiskey later, and they were all sprawled on the couches swapping their favourite Dumbledore stories.
"An educated and accomplished speaker!" Harry scoffed, swirling a shot of Firewhiskey in his hand "That's what they called him in the eulogy! Well let me tell you something: I remember his start-of-year speech to us in my very first year at Hogwarts. You know what his idea of 'a few words' was? I quote: 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!'".
Everyone chuckled.
"That was his idea of a speech" continued Harry "not that pompous swill."
Ron was still chuckling to himself at the memory of Dumbledore's speech, and it occurred to Harry that Ron may have had a little too much Firewhiskey. That was a sign that he too should probably stop. He excused himself, and left the Room of Requirement.
He walked quickly through the halls, heading towards the exit, intent now on getting back home to Sherlock and Tom. Though they had offered, Harry had not wanted them to accompany him to the funeral. In light of their own feelings towards the man, Harry did not feel that he would feel free to mourn him properly in their presence. Now, however, he missed them, and was eager to see them again.
He hurried through his familiar school, meeting no one, and then headed out of the school and across the lawn towards the gates.
He paused as he passed near the lake. A white marble gravestone that hadn't been there before was glimmering in the now setting sun. The crowds had already dispersed, and Harry took a moment to go up and stand over the grave, lowering his head silently in respect.
Over the past year he had become disillusioned with the old Headmaster. It had happened in part thanks to Tom and Sherlock, both of whom disliked Dumbledore, and in part thanks to his own observations.
Though Sherlock and Tom had fun making up crazy conspiracy theories such as Dumbledore stealing from his Gringotts vault until Harry got the key at age 11, or even that he paid the Dursleys to abuse Harry, Harry knew there was far more to the man's actions than just manipulations for his own benefit, and he thought that Sherlock and Tom knew that as well.
He was a brilliant man who had taken a heavy weight upon his shoulders- the weight of fighting evil. Harry had often gotten the short end of the stick due to this fight, but while he couldn't help resenting that, he did believe Dumbledore's intentions were pure.
The one thing Harry resented above all others, the thing that was hardest for him to forgive, was how Dumbledore had allowed Harry to be treated at the Dursleys. He may have placed Harry there out of a true desire for him to be protected by his mother's sacrifice, but Harry did not think he had to be treated the way he had been.
There was no way that during the last five years Dumbledore had no idea how miserable Harry was at the Dursleys. Harry was pretty sure that he knew very well. He understood Dumbledore's reasons for not taking him out of that house, but why couldn't he have threatened the Dursleys? Harry was sure that if they knew that any miserable treatment of Harry would bring about retribution from a fully qualified wizard with permission to use magic, his time at the Dursleys would have been far better. Still, Dumbledore had never intervened on Harry's behalf in that front.
Harry had a feeling that he knew the reason for his Headmaster's actions, or lack of them. Dumbledore had been a long time fighter for muggle rights. He firmly opposed actions such as muggle-baiting or even muggle-hunting and all such activities that had been considered fun pastimes in various Pureblood families. He wouldn't go against his ideals by threatening muggles with magic, even if it was justified, even if the results would have been saving an innocent boy some misery. Dumbledore was so firmly rooted in his high-minded ideals, that he wasn't willing to do the right thing if it involved some dirty work rather than noble actions.
The man had always wanted to do right, though, and Harry couldn't deny that he had been brilliant, fun and charming. And besides, Harry's terrible time at the Dursleys was the reason he met Sherlock, so in light of Dumbledore's death, he decided that the time had come to forgive him.
Gently touching the white stone with his hand, Harry felt at peace.
And then someone grabbed his arm.
"There you are, Potter! Thank Merlin I found you! Where the hell did you vanish during the funeral? Was it too hard for you to attend an event that wasn't focused solely on you?"
Harry turned around. "Snape!"
"That's Professor Snape, you insolent-" but he was cut off mid sentence by a flash or purple light Harry had sent at him. He barely jumped out of the way in time, and there was a hole scorched in the grass where he had been standing a second before.
"How dare you?" Harry hissed, advancing on Snape, relishing his shocked and angered expression "How dare you come to his funeral? How dare you go near his grave?"
"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Potter?"
Of course, Snape had no way of knowing that Harry was aware that he was the one who murdered Dumbledore. Harry ignored the question in favor of shooting another curse at Snape. Snape, was ready this time, though, and deflected Harry's spell with almost lazy ease before firing a red beam of light at Harry. He was so quick that Harry barely had time to dodge.
Snape was obviously quicker than him at firing spells, so Harry tried a different approach. His next spell was pointed at the space above Snape's head. A huge boulder appeared where Harry's wand had been pointed and began falling. Snape only had a split second before he was crushed, and Harry doubted he'd manage to stop the boulder in time. He sent one more spell Snape's way to finish the job. To his shock, Snape managed to stop the boulder's descent a hairsbreadth from his head, and deflect Harry's second spell, though barely.
Harry paused in shock. How fast was this man?
His second's hesitation had been his undoing, because that was all it had taken for Snape to dissolve the boulder into dust and go on the offensive. "Trying to kill me, Potter?" He growled, shooting spells at Harry at an alarming speed "Gone dark now, have we?"
"Don't pretend innocence." Harry was breathing loudly, from the effort of dueling a wizard far superior to him "I know that you were the one to kill Dumbledore. You hit him when his back was turned, like a coward."
Just as he said that his shield gave out and Harry was hit with a petrification spell and fell to the ground, legs snapping together. He saw Snape's face, frozen by shock, before his head hit the ground.
After the black circles cleared from his eyes, Harry looked up and saw Snape's grim features looming over him. Harry suddenly realized just how grim his situation was. He could only hope that Snape would decide to bring him to Voldemort rather than take matters into his own hands like he had with Dumbledore.
To Harry's surprise, Snape did neither. He picked up Harry's wand, conjured ropes to tie Harry up, and then lifted the body-binding hex.
"I need you able to talk, Potter." He muttered in explanation, scrutinizing Harry. "Now, how did you know what I told the Dark Lord about Albus Dumbledore's death?"
"None of your business."
Snape sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair in a tired gesture. "Generally, Potter, I would not give a damn what you think of me, since there is not a single person in the Ministry who would believe me over you. Now, however, I find myself in the unfortunate position of needing your trust in order to give you some very important information. I hope this will suffice in convincing you of my loyalties."
He lifted his hand and incanted: "Accio Veritaserum!"
A minute later, a small vial zoomed across the lawn towards them, and Snape caught if deftly.
He uncorked the vial, and mockingly raised his hand in a toasting motion.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "How do I know it's not just water?"
Snape rolled his eyes in response. "If it was water, it wouldn't have come when I said 'Accio VERITASERUM'. Now, I am going to take 2 drops. I dearly hope you know what that means."
Harry may not have liked Potions, but he'd just had an OWL in the subject and he wasn't a complete idiot. "2 drops allows you to keep whatever information you want to yourself. You won't be forced to answer any question, but if you choose to answer it you won't be able to lie."
Snape nodded curtly and measured out two drops into his mouth.
"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore?" Harry asked directly, getting straight to the point.
"No." Snape rolled his eyes at the confusion on Harry's face as he attempted to piece the puzzle together.
"He really did fall down the stairs? You lied to Voldemort to gain his trust?"
Snape snorted. "As if Albus Dumbledore could die from a fall. No, he was killed by a curse. The curse was triggered when he stole an object precious to the Dark Lord, and he did not want the Dark Lord to make the connection between the object and the curse and realize his possession had gone missing. We planned out the details together to make the death look like an accident. You are right, though, in assuming I lied to the Dark Lord to gain his trust."
Harry nodded his understanding. He didn't ask Snape what the object had been both because he didn't think Snape would answer, and because he was fairly sure that he knew what it was- the ring.
Instead he simply told Snape "You can untie me now, I won't try to kill you."
"Not that you could succeed in such an endeavor." Snape sneered as the ropes around Harry began to slither apart.
"Now," Snape said once Harry stood up "it is imperative that you tell me how you knew of my conversation with the Dark Lord."
"Sometimes I have visions of Voldemort, where I can see into his head." Harry answered, truthfully. Snape was one of those people who could always tell when you were lying, so Harry tried not to say anything that was an actual lie. "I'll be sleeping, and suddenly see what's happening where he is. Usually I see it through his eyes."
"I assume you have no control over this?" Snape inquired.
He smirked in triumphant contempt when Harry confirmed his assumption by shaking his head. "I should have known. Now, judging from the fact that Minerva treated me perfectly cordially during the funeral, you have told no one from the Order of your visions before. That can only be attributed to pure stupidity. From now on, you will report to Minerva McGonagall every time you have a similar vision. The Order of the Phoenix can make far better use of that information than you can. Understood?"
Harry nodded obediently, but inside he smirked with smug vindication. The fact that Harry had not reported to the Order that Snape was a spy was a huge tip-off that he was on Voldemort's side, and if Snape hadn't been so quick to believe any indication that Harry was stupid he would have realized that. His blind hatred of Harry had finally backfired, and Harry felt victorious.
"Now," Snape continued at Harry's show of humility "I have something of urgent importance to tell you. This place isn't safe enough, we must meet in your aunt and uncle's house. It is the only place guaranteed to be safe from the Dark Lord. We must go there now."
"I don't live there anymore." Harry told Snape. "In fact, I promised myself that I would never go back there in my life."
Snape raised his eyebrows, but he didn't sneer like Harry expected him to.
"Dumbledore always told me that the protection would only hold as long as I consider that place my home." Harry continued "So the protection's no good anymore. I think you'll just have to give me this information somewhere else."
Snape considered that for a moment. "I will go to your relative's house and scope out the enchantments for myself. I will see if the protection is indeed gone. If it is, we will need to meet here. It is the next safest place after your relative's house. I will need your relatives' address."
"Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Harry answered. "And make sure to come dressed in wizard clothes and wave your wand around a lot."
Snape frowned at him. "This is a serious matter, Potter. I will not have my mission jeopardized by hysterical screams of 'Freak' that would attract the attention of muggle neighbors. I will send you an owl within the next few days."
"How did you kn-" Harry began, mystified, but Snape had already turned away from him and began walking. Harry shrugged. It must have been a coincidence that Snape had used Aunt Petunia's favorite catchphrase.
He turned back to Dumbledore's grave. "This is all such a waste of time." Harry told it, rolling his eyes. But secrets were secrets, and Snape believed that he had an interest in fighting Voldemort. So Harry would have to meet with Snape, and pretend to be interested in what he had to say. He groaned at the prospect, before beginning to walk towards the Hogwarts gates, heading home to his real family.
"Harry!" called Sherlock, stepping into his room "I need you to hold this- Look out!" He jumped back in fright, narrowly avoiding being impaled in the stomach by a shirtless Harry wielding a sword.
"Sorry." Harry said sheepishly "I didn't see you until it was too late. What can I do for you?"
"What were you doing with that sword?" asked Sherlock suspiciously "And what are you watching?"
"Fencing for beginners." Harry replied proudly "I think I'm rather good. I figured that since I wouldn't be using the Gryffindor sword for destroying Horcruxes, I might as well find some other use for it."
Sherlock sighed. "That is definitely the superior object between the two Dumbledore left you in his will. I wish it was as obvious what he intended you to do with the other object he gave you. That's actually why I came up, though, I need you to hold this for me." He held his hand out and presented Harry with the Snitch that Dumbledore had left him in his will.
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're still on that? Let it go, it's really not important, since I have no intention of killing Tom."
As if Sherlock could let a puzzle go. And in any case, it would be wise not to underestimate the damage Dumbledore could do from beyond the grave. So he simply held the snitch out to Harry stubbornly, who sighed, but smiled good naturedly, taking the snitch into his hand.
Sherlock scrutinized the tiny golden ball, but nothing happened.
"What are we expecting to happen?" Harry asked curiously, looking at the completely motionless snitch.
"I'm not sure." Sherlock replied, "I was reading up on snitch lore, and apparently, the snitch has flesh memory. That is- it remembers the first person to touch it. It's how they're able to decide a match if two seekers managed to put their hands on it at almost the same time. I thought that it would recognize your skin and respond to it somehow."
"Ah." Harry was chewing his lip and frowning down at the ball. It was cute of him to try to solve the mystery where Sherlock himself had failed, but it was useless. It was also nice of him, since Harry himself saw no need to solve the mystery.
"I think I might have an idea." Harry finally said.
Sherlock was surprised. "You have?"
"In my very first Quidditch match, I didn't catch the snitch with my hands," Harry explained, "I caught it with my mouth."
"Your mouth?" Sherlock snickered.
"It flew right into my mouth like a fly." Harry told him, and then took the snitch and pressed his mouth against it. Writing appeared on the once smooth surface of the snitch.
"Give that here!" Sherlock demanded, grabbing the golden ball from Harry. There were five words on it, written in thin slanted handwriting. I open at the close.
Harry leaned over Sherlock's shoulder. "I open at the close." he said "What do you suppose that means?"
I open at the close I open at the close I open at the close
"No idea." Sherlock finally admitted.
"Oh well," Harry shrugged, losing interest "it's still less cryptic than what he left Hermione."
That reminded Sherlock that he had a break-in to plan, and a book of fairy tales written by Beedle the Bard to steal.
He rushed out of the room, taking care to store the words I open at the close safely in his mind-castle.
Severus looked at his watch again impatiently, only to see that there were still 15 minutes until the time he had told Potter to meet him. He sighed. He was not looking forward to meeting with Potter, even less so than usual, in fact, but he was impatient to get it over with. He wished, for the dozenth time, that Albus had chosen someone else to break the news to Potter.
It had been bad enough to condemn him to death before, but Severus's experience at the Dursley abode had made it ten times worse.
He had been greeted at the entrance to the suburban house by Petunia, still as stick-thin and horse-faced as ever, with a cold "You! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Believe me, Petunia, I take just as little pleasure in the meeting as you do," he had retorted coldly, pushing past her into the house "but unfortunately, there is something here that I need to examine."
She sputtered with indignity. "How dare you? Who's given you permission to enter my home? Out! I want you out!" She shut up abruptly when Severus pulled his wand out and pointed it at her.
"There is a war going on, Petunia." He snarled "People's lives are at stake, this is no frivolous matter. I have no time for your petty grudges."
She remained quiet, eyeing his wand with hate. Unfortunately, her husband had heard her raise her voice, and had come down the stairs at the sound of it. Severus felt a headache coming on at the prospect of dealing with two of them. He hoped the husband would be more reasonable than his wife.
That was not to be. The large man took one look at him, then his wand, and bellowed. "Freak! Get away from my wife! Out!"
Severus rolled his eyes and moved his wand from Petunia to her large, purple-faced husband. "Silence!" he commanded, and the man shrank back. "I have important business here. The less trouble you give me, the sooner I can finish and be on my way."
"Vernon, listen to him." Petunia pleaded with him, being sensible for once.
The fat man, Vernon, obeyed her and made no move towards Severus, though he looked as if he were dying to get his hands around Severus's throat.
"We thought we were through with your lot." He told Severus resentfully. "When the boy ran away, we thought we were done with all this freakish nonsense for good. Why do you keep on bothering us? We're decent people, we don't want anything to do with your kind, we just want to live our lives in peace. The boy's gone now, and good riddance, so why do you keep on coming back?"
From the way he talked it sounded as if Severus wasn't the first magical person to visit the Dursleys since Potter had left. Or, as it turns out, ran away. Interesting.
"You may have to take the boy back." He warned Vernon Dursley "For his own safety. There are dangerous people out there who want him dead."
"What business is it of mine?" the huge man bellowed "He left! He's gone! I'm not responsible for him any longer! He can die for all I care!"
Sweet Merlin, what despicable people. When Potter had told him with cold eyes that he had sworn never to come back to this house, Severus had guessed at the reason. He had seen the relationship between Lily and Petunia as it soured, after all. The two sisters had loved each other, but magic was a touchy subject. If brought up, it could often lead to huge fights and to long angry silences between the two.
Severus had assumed the apart from a few tense incidents of accidental magic, Potter's relationship with his aunt had been fine during his early childhood, but that his acceptance into Hogwarts had caused the relationship to become rocky. Tensions had probably mounted in the house, as they had with Lily and Petunia, and the atmosphere had become more and more tempestuous until Potter finally decided that the best course of action was to sever all connection and move out.
Now Severus realized that he had obviously been wrong. Potter had not had a good relationship with his family that was ruined by the arrival of magic, he had never had a good relationship with them at all. His relationship with his family had been affected by magic from the very start. There was nothing, not even a trace of love or concern for Potter in this family. Petunia had probably hated him before she even set eyes on him him for being magical, and Vernon had obviously followed her example.
It was sad for a child to grow up in such a way, hated and despised, though not as unusual as Severus had once naively thought. He knew of quite a few Slytherins that never once returned home for the holidays, and frowned whenever their family was mentioned. Severus felt a stab of sympathy for Potter. After all, he himself had once been a poor little boy, despised by and large by all who knew him. Of course, just because Severus felt sorry for the boy didn't mean Potter wasn't an odious little twit. Severus himself had been an odious little twit that age, and he had had quite a similar upbringing.
He frowned in disgust at the Dursley couple and then waved his wand at the house, beginning to cast magic-detecting spells. Both Dursleys jumped back from the colorful magic display, and stood huddled together, watching Severus with fear and loathing, but unwilling to leave him alone to his own devices.
Watching the colourful lights as they illuminated certain patterns on the walls and created runes in midair, Severus soon realized that Potter had been telling the truth. The moment he had stopped considering this place his home, the protection spell had failed utterly. It did not hold even the slightest bit of power anymore. It was no use, he realized with disappointment, they would have to meet at Hogwarts. It was the next safest place to have the conversation.
He turned to Petunia and her husband. "I'm finished here."
Petunia's bony body sagged with relief.
"I see no reason that you should ever witness a single additional display of magic in your life." he told her "You've finally freed yourself of magic. Though it would serve you right if I cursed you. Anyone who would treat a child the way you have deserves to suffer a bit."
Petunia merely glared at him hatefully, but her husband blustered with indignation. "How dare you! How we've treated him! We gave him food, didn't we? And a place to sleep? He should be damn grateful!"
Severus sneered at him. "He'd probably have been better off in an orphanage than with the likes of you."
Dursley's eyes narrowed. "What did he tell you? Did he say we hit him? Well it's a lie! I never laid a finger on him!"
"He never said anything to me." Severus replied coldly pointing his wand at the man "But the fact that you automatically thought you were being accused of physical abuse as well as your defensiveness when I hadn't even accused you, indicates to me that you did hit him."
Dursley paled and back away from the wand as Severus advanced on him.
"Don't like force when it's used on you? Don't like it when the tables are turned?"
"Stop!" cried Petunia. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. "Please! Please just go. Haven't your kind done enough already?"
This gave Severus pause. The phrase "Haven't you kind done enough already?" seemed to imply that this wasn't the first confrontation they had had with wizards that had ended badly. Severus remembered Vernon Dursley's words from before. "The boy's gone now, so why do you keep coming back?" Severus was not the first wizard to have visited the Dursleys since Potter left their house.
Severus scrutinized the couple, and then looked, truly looked, around the house for the first time.
The couple both had deep dark circles under their eyes, and there was a harassed tiredness to the way Petunia held herself. The house, which Severus would have expected to be spotlessly clean based on his earlier acquaintance with Petunia, was dusty and dark.
"What happened?" he asked Petunia "Who's been here?"
"I don't know who." she muttered.
"Don't lie to me, Petunia." Severus snarled, advancing upon her.
She stumbled back, and almost walked into a vase standing behind her.
Suddenly, the hydrangea resting in the vase lunged at Petunia, as if it were alive, and, teeth appearing out of nowhere, it bit her on the arm.
Petunia yelped and stumbled back.
"Ah, I see." Severus said, looking at the disheveled woman. They had not been cursed by Death Eaters. This was a hex, meant to harass rather than torture, cast out of anger and desire for revenge.
"It appears I am not the first person who has felt you deserved some magical retribution. Someone has beat me to it."
"It's worse for him." Petunia said, gesturing at her husband with her head. "He can't get near any of the furniture- chairs, couches, or beds. He has to sleep on the floor now."
"Hmm... Interesting use of magic." he told her. "Quite creative."
She flinched.
"Not necessarily legal," Severus mused, "but he would know there is no one you would report it to. Well, my work here is done. Goodbye, Petunia."
"Aren't you going to-" she burst out.
"What?" he asked harshly "Help you? Remove the hex? I don't think so. You made your bed, Petunia, you and your husband both. Now lay in it." And he swept out of the house.
Potter was resourceful, Severus had to admit to himself, to have gotten around the trace, somehow. Whatever it was he had done to his aunt and uncle, it had obviously gone undetected. But then, he had already known that Potter was a cunning little bastard. He has seen it in their duel after Albus's funeral. The second the little tick had noticed how fast he deflected the spells aimed at him, he had begun casting spells that weren't aimed specifically at Severus, but rather at the objects around him, causing them to attack him.
That just made it even worse, though. He wasn't just telling a sixteen-year-old child he had to die. He was telling a boy who had grown up in a terrible home and endured an abysmal childhood that just now, just as he'd managed to get away and begin a new life for himself, just as he finally avenged his past and began a better future, he had been doomed to die.
And now he was sitting in his office, and Potter would be there in just-, Severus checked his watch again, 8 minutes, and Severus would have to break the news to him. He rubbed his temples tiredly, and tried to recapture the absolute fury he had felt when he caught Potter snooping in his Pensieve. It was no use, though, he couldn't hate Potter anymore. Not now, not at this point, not when he was about to doom him to an early death.
Severus shifted uncomfortably, looking for a distraction, anything to take his mind off what was coming. There was nothing, though. Hogwarts castle was completely silent. Severus himself had purposely chosen a day in which he knew none of the other Professors planned to come to Hogwarts. He wanted the castle completely empty when disclosing the sensitive information to Harry.
Finally, after an agonizing few minutes, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in!" Severus called, and watched as Potter entered and walked towards him hesitantly. They were not here in the roles of teacher and student, but Severus could see that Potter was still slightly intimidated by being summoned to his hated Potions master's office.
"Have a seat, Potter." he said, trying to keep his voice level and calm. The boy obeyed.
"What is it you need to tell me?" the boy finally asked, when too long a time had elapsed and Severus had still not gained the courage to begin speaking.
He forced himself to look into Potter's eyes. Usually, he tried to avoid looking at the familiar green eyes, Lily's eyes, as much as he could, but he owed it to the boy to look him in the eyes as he broke the news.
"Albus Dumbledore has entrusted me with information that I am to give you when the time is right. I believe that now is that time." Severus swallowed before continuing. "Sixteen years ago, when the Dark Lord came to your parents' home and attempted to kill you, the Killing Curse he sent at you rebounded back and ripped his soul from this body. It did another thing, though, as well. It ripped his soul apart, and a small piece of his soul was separated from the whole. This piece latched on to the closest living thing in the vicinity- you. A piece of the Dark Lord's soul resides inside you. It explains why you have visions of him, how you can see into his mind when he is miles away. As long as that piece resides inside you, the Dark Lord cannot die."
"So," Potter said very slowly and quietly "in order for Voldemort to die, I would need to die too?"
Severus nodded, feeling wretched. "According to Albus Dumbledore, in order for him to die, you must die too, and it must be by the Dark Lord's hand."
"I open at the close." the boy murmured, he looked like something was dawning on him. "He knew. He planned it."
I open at the close? What was he talking about?
But he could not ask, the boy had already bolted out of his office, and begun to run towards the entrance. Severus quickly grabbed his cloak and followed him, hoping he wouldn't have to prevent Potter from doing anything foolish like trying to seek out the Dark Lord on his own. Potter did no such thing, however. He ran out of the castle and towards the lake until he reached Albus's grave.
Severus watched from a distance, remaining silent and giving the boy some privacy as he stood, staring at the headstone, chest heaving.
Then, it was like an explosion had taken place inside him, and he had to let it out. He began shouting.
"I FORGAVE YOU!" he screamed at the grave "I FORGAVE YOU AND MADE MY PEACE, AND THEN I FIND OUT THAT YOU WERE PLANNING FOR ME TO DIE ALL ALONG! LEADING ME ON LIKE A PIG FOR SLAUGHTER! I'D FORGIVEN YOU, I'D MOVED ON! HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU?"
He began punching the marble of Albus's gravestone. Over and over, paying no attention to the fact that his fist was beginning to bleed.
Alarmed, Severus rushed to the boy's side and physically restrained him before he could hurt himself any further. Holding Potter's hand in a vice-like grip, he pointed his wand at it and healed the bone. Potter sat quietly, suddenly drained of energy, and allowed Severus to heal his hand.
"I'd've expected no better from you." he said to Severus finally, as Severus waved his wand over the hand once last time. When he looked down at Potter's face, he saw tear marks. "I'd've expected no better from you," he said again, "but Dumbledore- I really thought he cared for me."
"He did." Severus told him, his attempt at sounding comforting coming out awkward and stilted. "He just thought you would die either way, and he wanted it to happen under the right circumstances. But he wasn't happy with it, this isn't how he wanted it."
"Shut up, Snape!" Potter snapped. And he pulled his hand out of Severus's grip and stormed off.
Severus sighed, before shaking his head and heading out of the school as well, albeit at a far more sedate pace. He had done his part, the rest was up to Potter, and Severus honestly wished him luck.
End of Chapter.
I'm really sorry for taking so long to post this chapter, I hope it was worth it.
As usual, I love reviews and promise to reply to each one (except the ones from guests, for obvious reasons). Have a nice day!