The Birthday Present
by Excessivelyperky
Disclaimer: All belongs to Rowling and various assigns, including Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books, and so on.
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Chapter 21: Into the Labyrinth
Albus DumbledoreHe entered Snape's mind as gently as he could. He could not assume any barriers were up. He must step as carefully as if he were trapped in that silly swamp the Weasley twins had set up last year.
The Potion Master's House of Memory lay before him, the two large doors at its entrance wide open. The Headmaster moved up the steps of this model of Hogwarts. The grounds outside seemed oddly empty.
So were the halls. A few anonymous students walked through, paying no attention to their observer. Their forms seemed nearly transparent. Dumbledore allowed one staircase to take him below to the dungeons, the most likely place for Snape's wounded soul to find refuge. On the way, Albus checked the Common Room for Slytherin, but that, too, was empty save for the battered furniture and the pillar in the back. Once down to the next level, the door to the Potions office lay temptingly open.
The Headmaster went inside. He was delighted to see that Severus had kept up his collection of happy memories. He had helped Snape with this room's construction, and was glad to see it contained more tokens than when Severus had begun it.
He moved about the small room and picked up various items symbolizing various pleasant events, and tried to guess what they stood for. The silver cauldron, of course, was obvious. The owner was one of the youngest Potions Masters in Wizarding history. Albus gently picked up the matryoshka doll. Despite her failings, Severus still cherished the memory of his mother. It took him a few moments to puzzled out the boomslang skin and a modest clump of cat hair, but the older wizard laughed out loud when he finally figured it out. Why shouldn't a teacher enjoy the achievements of a student so skilled?
Dumbledore smiled sadly at the little stuffed dragon peeping down from the top of a bookcase. He'd never been able to understand Snape's attachment to the younger Malfoy. One would think the boy's resemblance to Lucius would kill any affection. However, since few understood his own protection of Severus, he supposed he ought to be happy that Snape had enough love left in him to direct to anyone.
Then he gazed down at the ham sandwich wrapped in wax paper with a long red hair caught in its folds. This was definitely a new addition, probably from last year when Molly Weasley was the only one at Grimmauld Place who understood what a trial the place was to Snape and was willing to do something about Black's cruel joke. Severus had hidden his feelings well, though Molly could always coax a civil word from the Potions Master when no one else could. Just touching the paper released such a feeling of hopeless longing that Albus was saddened by it. Most normal relationships were denied to Snape, given his Death Eater history and his duties as a spy. The Headmaster usually turned a blind eye to affairs among the unmarried staff as long as they were discreet, and when much younger, had taken advantage of Filch's collection. A pity that Snape and Professor Sinistra had not hit it off—if anyone ever needed a normal family life, it was the dour Slytherin.
Albus sighed, and put the sandwich down. Severus had shown no other signs of his attachment and deserved to be left alone about this. For one thing, Arthur had noticed nothing, and he was the first to brag of which men had fallen to his wife's charms, secure she would never return their advances. He was always right, too. It never ceased to amazed Dumbledore how someone with such a clownish manner was so intuitive.
Then he saw the rose petals on the counter, so far behind a couple of books he almost hadn't noticed them. Where was the flower they belonged to? He remembered when Severus had held a full-blown rose in his hands and gently laid it down almost two decades ago when this room was first created. That had been Snape's first deposit into this bank of happiness, even before the cauldron.
What else was missing? He left the chamber and wandered about. The rest of this imaginary Hogwarts felt much emptier than he was used to. Slytherin Tower still contained a grinning Lucius Malfoy, and Albus turned away before he could see what was probably in the part of this model that had turned into Malfoy Manor. However, some of the memories here had a shadow over them that meant they were left for Tom to see. He also avoided the Headmaster's office here. He suspected what he would find there, and didn't care to face his own cruelty.
Dumbledore went out to the grounds. Hagrid's hut was still there, of course, but once more other memories were missing. Where were the Marauders? He had wished long ago that Snape's recollections of them weren't so numerous or so brightly colored, and generally didn't care to view most of them himself. Yet their disappearance worried him. Perhaps he should warn Harry about the pensieve. It could hold a great deal more than anyone expected.
He approached the Shrieking Shack with trepidation. Albus almost never looked at this set of memories too closely. But it was clear of everything, including the pale shades of three students, Lupin in human form, and a ragged Sirius Black. He recalled Remus' recitation of events afterwards, and had been appalled at how Black had allowed Snape to be further injured with his clumsy Mobilicorpus, and how Lupin had, once more, allowed his friend to do as he wished without even a word. Dumbledore sighed. It had been much easier to allow Severus to take the blame for Lupin's resignation rather than give him any support. After all, any public word from him on the matter might have forced the Ministry to look more deeply into Sirius Black's escape. Well, that had been his excuse at the time. In truth, he'd wanted Harry and his friends to continue to trust him without question, and pointing out how a favorite teacher had nearly managed to kill three students, allow an escaped prisoner onto the grounds and into the castle, and refuse proper treatment to a fellow staff member would not have helped. He had also thought that exposure to Dementors and fear for their lives had been sufficient punishment for attacking Snape in the first place.
Instead, it was clear that the Trio had felt rewarded by knowing that Black and Buckbeak were safe, and had enjoyed watching Snape driven into a fury in front of the Minister of Magic. He suspected that Severus had guessed exactly how it had been done the moment that Madam Pomfrey lent him the Time-Turner last year. Dumbledore was glad that Umbridge had been in his place then; no doubt a great deal of suppressed fury had been directed to her.
He glanced around the empty Shrieking Shack one more time. How odd—the back wall was slightly open, as if it were a huge door. He walked through it and found himself in a shadowy Knockturn Alley. It appeared the way it had a couple of decades ago, but still had the same air of dank vice that it had today, and a hundred years ago, for that matter. Dumbledore was afraid now. He'd been inside this part of Snape's mind only once, but that had been enough.
Albus recognized the storefronts now, and stopped at Nora's. The Potions Master had grown up in one of the upper apartments after the ruin of his father's hopes for wealth. I don't want to go there! the Headmaster thought. Then he sighed. I have to find you, Severus. I can't believe that you're really gone. I always knew you'd return when I sent you out. You were always so strong and careful. Oh, you were hurt some of the time last year, but you always healed no matter what Tom or I did to you. No matter how you railed against the Potter boy and how I catered to him, you saved his life time after time no matter how your own was risked. This summer you managed a situation that I'd neglected for years. And what was your reward? To be despised by everyone, including me, because I forced you to walk on broken legs and you could not do it with a smile.
Albus could not imagine Hogwarts without that dark, sardonic presence. He forced himself up the stairs, knowing what horrors lay ahead of him. Fortunately the worst was still hidden in the evidence room of the Ministry's Department of Justice. The remainder was bad enough. Snape's parents had not led a quiet life, and their son had borne the brunt of it. Yet I was relieved when the Malfoys took responsibility for him after his parents were dead. I knew his fate the day the Hat chose him for Slytherin, and I was glad that I didn't have to find a temporary home for him. Who would want such an awkward, temperamental boy in their care?
He had been annoyed when faced with what the Marauders had done to the boy, and had been happy to use Remus Lupin as an excuse to let them off lightly. Oh, he'd said all the right words. Severus had even believed them enough to come to him when he couldn't stand being Riddle's puppet any longer. But I never meant them. Not really. Even after that he'd used Snape ruthlessly in the war effort, then let him fall into Moody's hands. I didn't rescue him till it was almost too late. If Mad-Eye hadn't owled me himself that last time, Hogwarts would be an entirely different place. For one thing, Harry would almost certainly have died his first year.
How gracious he had been to allow Severus to teach here! When Snape gave the school an international reputation in Potions, he had been glad enough to bask in the glory, though somehow neglecting to pass any of it down to the man who had earned.
Albus did not like himself much just now. He put his hand on the knob that led into the dingy little apartment where Snape had lived, and prepared himself for the ugly scenes he'd seen before.
This place was empty as well. No. He was wrong about Harry's pensieve, he had to be. The boy would surely have come across something horrible by now if so much of this were in his possession, and he clearly hadn't. Dumbledore's heart sank. Was Severus gone, and the memories still left visible merely for show? He sat down on the sagging, stained couch and wept.Then he stopped. This apartment had more than one floor. Where were the stairs? They'd hung down from the room above to this tiny parlor. He looked up at the ceiling. The plaster had dampness marks, but revealed no evidence of any opening. He pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos." A beam of light sprang from his wand up to the ceiling. The square outline of a hatchway and the shadow of a handle appeared. Albus reached up and pulled it down, letting the narrow stairs unfold. He began to climb.
The bed was empty, too. The pallet sat on spindly legs and had a couple of thin, ragged blankets on it. Next to it was a small, rickety night-table. The only other item in the room was a sturdy chest bound with chains. More shadows hid the edges of the room, especially over to one side. The Headmaster raised his wand to examine the place more thoroughly.
"Go away…please go away," a soft voice pleaded from those shadows.
Dumbledore sent soft light in that direction. A badly beaten boy huddled in the crawl space and pointed a bloodstained wand at him. The young Snape's face was bruised and slashed, while his hand trembled.
"Let me help you up on the bed," the older wizard said. He re-sheathed his own wand and began to step in the boy's direction.
"No! You don't mean it!" Severus replied. He stayed where he was. "You just want me to do your dirty work. That way you can pretend that you're perfect and everyone will love you, while they hate me. The only one who counts for you is Harry. No matter what I do for him, it's never enough. It won't ever be enough." The boy choked on a sob. "It hurts so much. Please, just let me go…"
"You know you can't stay here," Dumbledore said gently. "What will your apprentices do without you?"
"Die. Or become like me. I don't know which is worse. One or two of them will be weak enough to believe you. Use them the way you used me. It's not as if they're Gryffindors, after all."
Albus flinched. That was too close to the truth. "Why can't you protect them?"
"I'm not strong enough. I keep wanting things, even though I know I can't have them. Everything I do is wrong. Everything I am is wrong. I can't even summon a Patronus."
"That's not your fault, Severus."
"Oh, yes, it is. If I hadn't been stupid enough to take the Mark in the first place I could carry the full weight of being Head of Slytherin. The other House Heads don't talk about it any more, but they know the pillars aren't in balance. They pity me."
"You were strong enough to stop this curse from killing several people, Severus. I don't know anyone else who could have done that."
"And won't Mad-Eye be upset about that!"
"One of the people you saved was Percy Weasley. This wasn't Moody's work, I know that much. He was genuinely worried about the boy this morning, but not in the way that he would have been had he miscalculated. I've learned to examine what he says, too. You may have saved Harry Potter's life again today as well."
"But that's why I ran away. I couldn't stand the pain any more. Please go away. It's not safe here." The wand wavered in the boy's hand.
Dumbledore began fumbling with the chain on the chest. "What's in here that's so dangerous?"
"Don't open it!" Severus pleaded. "You can't!" He began creeping out of the shadows into the lit part of the room. He appeared too injured to walk.
Albus stepped away from the chest and towards the boy. As he bent over to help the child up on the bed, Snape flinched. "Don't touch me," he whispered. "You saw what I'm like. You saw what, what I did. You hate me for it."
"I hate what's happened to you," the older wizard said, tears thickening his voice. "I hate myself for pushing you away when I should have helped you. I was trying to get inside without you knowing it so I could remove the nightmare hex. I never should have done that to you."
"Why didn't you just say so?"
The boy weighed so little. "I didn't want to admit that I'd sent it to you. I wanted you to stop hating Harry. I thought if you knew what his life truly was you wouldn't think he was like his father any more."
"But you're the one who keeps sending him there!" Severus screamed. "What is wrong with you? Did you want him to worship you for taking him away from that hellhole?"
The Headmaster blinked as he carefully lay the wounded boy on the pallet. "I thought for a long time that his aunt's house was the only safe place for him. I thought that others had endured worse and had grown strong anyway. We need him strong, Severus."
"You might end up with a new Dark Lord, you fool!"
Dumbledore had heard that argument before, sometimes in his own mind. "I know. That's one of the reasons I give him so much when he's at school. I want him to love Hogwarts as much as I do. He isn't like his father. You know that much yourself."
"Then why have me change anything, if your arrangement is so bloody perfect? Or did the temper tantrum he threw in your office finally convince you that it's not working as well as you thought. Oh, wait, I know the reason now! Since I succeeded with the Dursleys, you'll be able to take the credit, but if I had failed, you'd let him know about it, so he'd be able to blame the way his relatives treat him on me and not you."
Now it was the Headmaster's turn to flinch. Had he really meant it that way? He knew if he looked back he would probably find other incidents where he'd done exactly that. "That was not in my conscious mind when I asked you to help," he said. "I believe you saved his life this morning along with your apprentices as well. As far as we know, his summer with the Muggles has been much better than it ever was before. Moody asked me a lot of questions, too, after someone dropped a few hints to him that the boy's home was…unpleasant. I think you learned a great deal during those Occlumency lessons, Severus, and had concluded that I wasn't going to lift a finger after all these years. It worked. Due to you, things are better."
The boy grimaced and turned his head towards the wall. "And what good is that going to do the next time he goes on a Ministry Raid? How many will die then?"
"I think he has learned. He loved Sirius Black, and eventually he will face his own responsibility for his godfather's death. I know he blames you, and I have done almost nothing to stop him. But I need to know more. I need to open this chest," Albus said.
"You don't want what's in it," Snape said, looking back. Tears ran down through the blood and the dirt. "You never have. You want everything to be beautiful and kind. I don't have much of that any more."
"Where did it go?"
"I gave most ofit to Harry." The boy smiled. "He's been your victim, too. I know…I know I won't live long. When I die, all those memories will be gone anyway. Please don't open the chest. You don't want to see what's in there. You really don't."
"I have to, Severus. I have to face a lot of things I don't want to." Dumbledore worked on the chains again, but to no avail. "If I don't see myself and others clearly, then everyone could die, or worse." For a moment he stopped trying to break open the chest, and looked at the boy. "I have done one thing right. The way I did it was wrong, but now you're the one confronting me for treating Potter badly. I never expected that."
"And you'll do whatever you please anyway!" Severus said, panting for breath. "It never matters what I tell you. You're not listening to me about that chest, either. Why do you think you're the only one who knows what's right? You and Tom deserve each other!"
The Headmaster bit his lip on the retort that almost escaped. He was furious that anyone could compare him to Voldemort. But this last summer he'd proven himself quite capable of the same kind of ruthlessness. Hadn't he listed Snape among the necessary sacrifices? Hadn't he concentrated on his desire to free Tom from the horror of being Voldemort, as well as his wish to save Harry? In fact, he'd done it even after Malachite had begged him to decide what his true feelings were for the Potions Master. "This is why I have to see what's in the chest," he said in a low voice. "You have to open it for me," he added. "It will be much safer for you that way. I don't want to do…what I will have to do if you don't."
"Why don't you just tell me the truth? Why don't you tell anybody the truth? I would have worked for the Order even if I'd known you really despised me." The boy's eyes began to close. Albus was terrified. If Severus disappeared from this place, he would be dead or worse than dead in the real world.
He gently stroked the boy's hair. "I despise myself even more." Tears of his own blurred his sight. "You seem so strong, I keep forgetting how badly you've been hurt. I put some of those wounds on you, too." Every bruise and cut on the injured boy on the bed symbolized the pain of his heart and soul.
"Yes, I will tell you the whole truth this time," Dumbledore said. "I do love Harry. I love him more than any other boy who's gone to school here. I have no other children, Severus. The ones I adopted half a century ago died in the Grindelwald war, and I didn't have the heart to marry again.
"When Harry walked into the Great Hall, he was only an abstraction to me. I knew that if I paid him too much attention those Death Eaters who had escaped prison would wonder why I was so interested. I even kept Lupin from checking on the boy so they wouldn't track him to Little Whinging. Then I saw him for myself and it…it was like seeing my own child in front of me, not James' or Lily's. Even being raised by the Dursleys he hasn't given in to bitterness or despair, though he came close last year. I feared what would happen to him this summer. He needs love so very, very much, and with Black dead I couldn't think of anyone who could give it to him without endangering the Weasleys.
"I overreacted. In a way I supposed I blamed you for the situation, even though it was of my own making. I thought it was only right that you should be punished for treating him so badly all these years. I thought it was proper that you used the skills you've developed to protect your Slytherins to help him as well. I didn't think I could just ask you for that help, Severus. I thought I would have to force you into it."
The boy's eyes were wide open again. Albus continued. "I know your Slytherins have paid for my favoritism. In fact, all the houses but Gryffindor have. Last year the point system became altogether meaningless because I was foolish enough to think that Umbridge would never go so far. She was a Hufflepuff, and I never expected anyone from that house to act the way she did. I forgot that other houses besides Slytherin are tired of my favoritism, too. You saw how she used your students against my Lions. She knew that Malfoy and his friends would leave other students alone when more tempting targets were in sight."
Severus looked stunned, as if he never expected to hear such frankness. The Headmaster held the boy's hands in his. They were so thin. The only time the Potions Master gained flesh had been during the years before Harry's arrival, when he had felt safe. "I tried to stop them," Snape said. "Only a few of them listened."
"I'm amazed any of them did, now that I think about it. Oh, I've been at this game for quite some time. I was the one who saw to it that Tom was expelled, but I hated doing it. Even then he had enough charm to reach me, to reach all of us. If he had been a Gryffindor, I would have looked after him from the first day. I would have found out what he went home to every summer. But he was a Slytherin, and I blamed that house for the rot that turned him into a monster. After that, I blamed that house for everything that went wrong, I think.
"Even now I keep hoping that Tom is still alive, and that I can reach him. You'd think I'd know better after seeing what he's done to you."
He took a deep breath. "I failed you the most. Even as Headmaster, I cared only for my Lions. Minerva rebuked me on occasion for it, and she was the Head of that House! Sprout and Filius began to isolate themselves more, and their students along with them. Bellwood gave up entirely when I allowed the Marauders to rule the school. I thought you were provoking them when no one else was watching, and believed you were being vicious when you were only defending yourself against ugly odds.
"Fortunately, James loved Lily enough that he stopped tormenting you if he thought she might find out. Poppy tried to tell me that even after the Shrieking Shack that it still wasn't over, but I didn't want to listen to her. I thought everything was fine, when all I taught the boys was that they were free to do as they wish as long as they didn't kill you. I gave up on all the Slytherins that year, not just you, and for some time after. I was much more worried about Black."
The boy tried to hide his sobs. Dumbledore took a handkerchief and wiped the blood, dirt and tears from the child's face. "You wanted the truth," he said. "I wasn't surprised to learn you'd taken the Mark. But when I thought Sirius had betrayed the Potters and killed those Muggles, I didn't know what to believe. And then you came back to lay yourself at my feet. That is still one of the most joyous moments of my life, Severus." He remembered that terrible evening, that rich voice so dead and the dark eyes so lacking in hope. "Even then I was careless with your life. Almost as much as you were. When we thought it was over, I pretended not to know what Moody did with prisoners and you nearly died in his hands. If he hadn't sent that last owl personally, you wouldn't be here now.
"I basked in your worship. I thought it was my due. I wasn't quite so happy once you got back on your feet and behaved like a man instead of a broken boy. I've…I've never had children that lived long enough to grow up, you see. Once my students are old enough to go, they stop arguing with me. Oh, I'm usually welcome to visit, or they come here for a short time, but those who don't like me simply move on. They don't often stand nose to nose to me and fight. Most of the staff either agree with me or stay out of my way as well. Both Flitwick and Sprout have seen beyond the lemon drops for years, I'm afraid, but they're old enough to realize when they can't win. You…you don't care about odds. You're used to fighting even when you're losing." His voice shook. "That takes more courage than I can imagine."
"No, just stupidity…" said the boy. "A Slytherin should know when it's time to give up." His eyes were starting to close again.
Dumbledore looked down at the chest bound with chains. "But you never have, even though I've kept you dependent on me for everything, including your freedom. I was so angry when you refused to follow my lead with Harry. It upset me when you pointed out how the privileges I gave him could ruin him instead. I thought you hated him because of his resemblance to his father, and I never suspected that you were only telling me the truth. I only saw Harry, and how much he was hurting. I didn't want to admit how much of that was my fault, either, for leaving him with the Dursleys. I thought you were a fool for caring so much for Malfoy's son. In some ways, I still don't understand it."
Severus smiled weakly. "Sometimes I don't, either."
The Headmaster wished that he could truly heal the poor boy's wounds, instead of making them worse. "We've all taken you for granted. No matter how much you do for the Order, the school, and for the students, it's never enough, is it? Nobody cares how much you risk your life. I was too busy playing silly games with Umbridge last year while you got the information we needed in the only way you knew how. I am so ashamed of myself for the way I reacted when I found out what horror you endured for all our sakes.
"I have to open that chest, Severus. I have to see what I've done to you. I know it will hurt you terribly when…whatever is in there comes pouring out."
"You can't get in there…please don't open it. Please."
"You're dying here," Albus said. Snape's body was becoming slightly translucent. "You need what you put in there, too. If I don't open it, nobody will see what you're hiding."
"Good."
"I can't let you die, Severus. We need you too much. Even Moody admitted that your information has been helpful, though I had to threaten to set his leg on fire first. I know I'll probably hurt you again after this. I…I seem to have a knack for it. But if nothing else, I think the nightmare hex I inflicted on you is in there. I can't remove it till it's out in the open."
The boy's eyes were closed. The bruises and wounds were beginning to fade. Soon Severus would, too. This was not good. He had very little time.
He had one last option. While he was teaching Snape Occlumency, he had left himself a special door, a door that only he could open. Unfortunately, that would destroy all the walls in the Potions Master's mind, and it could take Severus weeks to rebuild them.
The boy's skin was completely smooth now, save for his left forearm, and the image of the Mark was disappearing as well. Soon Snape's form herewould evaporate, and shortly after that his body in the real world would die. He must act now. Albus chanted the complex spell that would dissolve the younger wizard's final protections.
The chain around the chest vanished. Dumbledore opened the lid.
He shuddered and choked back a scream as the terrible memories flooded his mind. Fumbling, elderly hands invaded the privacy of his body, followed by the more skilled ones of Lucius Malfoy. He hung upside down in the air while James Potter and Sirius Black laughed, and then stood frozen with horror while a werewolf lunged at him.
The Headmaster saw himself in the memories as well—sometimes kind, but often indifferent, and occasionally impatient. He was there in Snape's mind over the years as an all-powerful, capricious figure who lavished love and favoritism on others, with an occasional crumb tossed towards the lonely Slytherin boy. Yet those crumbs had meant so much to Severus, who had so little, that he had offered his life in exchange for a chance at more. Love and resentment were equally mixed, though Snape's feelings often changed to anger, and then at last to indifference. Albus was astounded at the Potion Master's devotion towards his students. Did—did he really learn that much from me? Perhaps he ought to be more surprised that Severus was still able to love at all.
As he was overwhelmed by Snape's memories he was in Azbakan part of the time, suffering under Moody's intense interrogation techniques. Voldemort honored him for cruelty and punished him for any human feelings.
He finally understood why Severus became so frustrated. Time after time he was ignored when all he was trying to do was to protect his Slytherins from an administration determined to make sure everyone else thought they were evil, when some of the children bore inner wounds even worse than his. Dumbledore saw how Snape developed a system to protect those he loved, a system he had thought snobbishness. He finally saw the many times he'd contributed to the divisions between Slytherin and the rest of the school, even while openly calling for unity. I'm repeating the same mistakes I made when the Marauders were here. Severus kept trying to tell me. I even ignored Minerva when she made the same observations. But how could I believe them? I'm the warm, benevolent one, while Snape, and sometimes Minerva, were harsh and demanding. How could I possibly be wrong?
He saw other students through Snape's eyes. Harry neglected his work, while Ronald was clearly jealous of his friend's special position and his wealth. Miss Granger was obviously weary of doing their schoolwork for them. And Longbottom truly was that dangerous in Potions.
The memories kept pouring through. Albus cringed at the ones containing Lucius Malfoy. He cringed from the nightmare hex that he'd put there himself. The Headmaster saw it appearing as a poisonous green vine, and mentally grasped the end.
I did this to him, not Tom. I made him feel the ugliness that was Harry's life and didn't care what happened when his own memories were mixed in. No wonder he feared going to sleep. Even then he remembered the ink that was used at the Daily Prophet, when a lesser man might have stayed his tongue. He had to hang on to the end tightly, so he might unravel it, carefully detaching it from wherever it had taken root.
He felt the impact of the potions regime, which added physical illness to emotional catastrophe. Dumbledore nearly staggered under the weight of his years at times, but had never endured such bone-shaking weariness save during the Grindelwald War.
The memory of the suicide spell through the Dark Mark, which was a dragging burden at the best of times, nearly flattened him. Only Winky saw how much the Potions Master hurt, and had tried to offer what comfort she could. Even then Snape's last rational thought was to protect his apprentices. Dumbledore noted the names of the Slytherins who were also affected, in case they had something in common with the Weasley boy and Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, both Rosier children, and Marietta Edgecombe. He must remember those names, because if Severus did not survive, it would be his responsibility to protect them. Dumbledore did not feel optimistic about that. He had failed the House of Slytherin for too long for any of its children to trust him.
Now the boy sat up on the bed, screaming as the terrible swirling memories attacked him too. Albus gently wound a piece of the nightmare-vine around his finger and pulled a bit more out of the vortex of hellish recollections. "I will help you through this," he said. "You are not alone. I am here, too."
"You're going to leave me, you always do!" Snape cried.
At that moment Albus Dumbledore found himself back in Snape's real bedroom. For a moment he thought he saw something green wrapped in his hand, as if his hex had been so real one could see it physically, but it faded quickly. He was sitting several feet away from the bed, while the real Severus babbled and raved.
"What did you do to him?" Poppy asked as she took his wrist and checked his pulse.
The Headmaster felt dizzy and took a moment to catch his breath. "Most of his bad memories were locked away," he said, once the room stopped spinning. "I had to let them loose. He was dying."
"And this is so much better!" she snapped. "You were moaning in pain yourself. Are you all right?"
"I've seen…I've seen what his life has been here through his eyes," Dumbledore said. "I've seen what he's had to do for the Order. Even Tom has treated him better in some ways. I had to take down all his walls, Poppy. I didn't want to. Now I know more than I ever wanted to. I don't know what we're going to do now."
"I don't either," she said, glancing back at Snape.
"He can get well," Albus insisted. "He was fading away inside before I did it. He never would have opened his eyes again, or been alive behind them if they were open." Deep inside he was terrified that Snape would always twist on the bed and shout nonsense. 'You're going to leave me, you always do' echoed inside his mind.
There was no doubting it. He had to go back and repair the damage he'd caused, and get the rest of that dreadful nightmare hex. Dumbledore moved the chair closer to the bed and picked up the Potions Master's hand. Snape pulled away in sudden fear and hid his face in the pillow. "Severus, I won't leave you by yourself in there. I'll come back when I know what to do. I've hurt you so much because I put everyone else ahead of you. For once you're going to come first. I don't know how long it will last before I drop you again, but I swear I will try. Don't…don't leave us. Please."
Snape's head came up, and his eyes were full of anger and hate. Oaths and curses erupted from him in a rough Knockturn Alley accent. Albus bowed his head. "I know you've heard promises from me before. I don't blame you for doubting me. There are things I must see to, but I will be back."
Pomfrey sighed. "He can't stay here like this for very long. I'm not properly trained for this kind of…affliction. Flitwick and Lupin are waiting outside, though. Will you stay long enough to see what they have to say? Once they leave, though, you need to rest and eat before you can risk going back inside his mind."
"Of course I'll stay, Poppy." He would do anything to help repair the damage he'd caused. He deserved every obscenity Snape shouted at him.
The other two wizards came in. Severus calmed down a little as Flitwick approached him, but he cowered as soon as he spotted Lupin. "No, no, no, no, no…" he howled, and raised his hands to hide his face.
Remus grimaced. "I had best go. I'm only making things worse."
"Come back later when he's asleep," Poppy said. "I'm sorry. He's so very ill."
"And he's afraid of me. I think he always will be," Lupin said sadly, and left.
Flitwick stood over Snape with his wand, but the younger wizard stopped talking for a moment and looked up at him hopefully. "Please tell me what happened," the Charms professor said calmly.
"I found him here in the bedroom with a knife in his Dark Mark," Albus said. "I wanted to remove it immediately, but it was apparently stopping some kind of curse, one that was affecting others with the Mark with a wish to kill themselves, and I feared to risk them as well. We were also worried that Mr. Potter might have been involved through his scar. As I was speaking to Moody and one of the victims, the pain stopped. I rushed in here and found that Winky had removed the knife and bandaged the cut. Snape's eyes were open but he was not conscious. I used Legilimens, but I could not find Severus in his House of Memory until I went to the Knockturn Alley section. I found him in a hiding spot in a room above the main apartment where he used to live. In there as well was a chest bound with chains. He was fading away inside there, and I was afraid he would never come back, so I forced it open. It contained a huge amount of negative memories." He shuddered. They were not clear as they were at first, but their accumulated weight struck him like a blow. "Madam Pomfrey pulled me out."
"You were as gray as one of Professor Snape's nightshirts," the mediwitch interrupted.
"At the time, I was grasping the end of the nightmare hex and had pulled a bit of it away," Dumbledore said. "I don't know what damage that did, but for a moment I imagined I saw a bit of green in my hand when I awoke here."
Flitwick frowned. "That…that could be quite bad." He turned back to Snape, who was beginning to grow restive again. His black eyes flashed, and he twisted a corner of the bedspread in one hand. "I am going to take the bandage off, Severus. I don't mean to hurt you, but I want to examine what you did. I think you were incredibly brave to stop the curse that way."
Snape allowed him to remove the stained linen around his arm, though his face showed the pain it caused him, instead of keeping up his normal stoic mask.
"Rather interesting spell here," the smaller wizard said. The Mark had stopped bleeding. "Nasty thing. I don't think even Moody knows how to key a spell to this, though I suspect he'd like to. Let me shine some light on this." He waved his wand and chanted.
Streams of color sprang up from Snape's Mark. Blue light shone, interwoven with gray and black threads. "Ah, blue for loyalty," Flitwick said. "Black for death, but I don't understand where the gray is involved."
"Winky said that Severus was extremely sad this morning, and asked me if there were any…any 'Gray Ones' as she put it." Yes, the crushing despair Snape had felt this morning was much like that faced by those around a Dementor.
"I'm surprised she knows about them," Flitwick mused. He hummed and waved his wand again, and the colors disappeared.
"She visited Crouch, Jr. just after he was Kissed. I have no idea how she managed it."
Snape began shaking, and looked wildly from Dumbledore to the Head of Ravenclaw and back again. He moaned softly as he gazed down at the wounded Mark. Flitwick extended his wand again. "May I?" he asked Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey. "He needs to rest."
Albus and Poppy nodded. The shorter wizard chanted a sleeping charm. Snape closed his eyes and soon began breathing softly.
The mediwitch put a fresh bandage on the arm. "It's all right, Severus. You're safe now. We'll protect you. Rest easy." Then she turned to the others. "I need to speak with some parents over the Floo, or owl them," she said crisply. "The professor usually asks me to do so about this time of year anyway, to find out if his returning students have any health problems. He told me it also reminds the parents to encourage their little darlings to begin on their summer homework." She wiped tears from her eyes as she left the room.
"Well," said Flitwick in a firm voice. "Have any of the others shown this reaction to the spell?"
"No," Dumbledore admitted. "Snape's memory work and what I had to do to it seems to be affecting him more. Poppy told me this morning that he needed to go back to the clinic. He was attempting the regimen without the mood-enhancers, and he shouldn't have."
"I fear he doesn't have the resources to deal with this by himself, and Madam Pomfrey is clearly at the end of her rope," the smaller wizard said crisply. Two spots of color stood out on his tiny cheeks.
"I know," Albus said. "I've only made thing s worse. But he was dying inside. I'd rather have him swear at me like a whore standing outside of Borgin and Burke's than…than the emptiness I saw."
"You need to notify the Swiss that he will be off his regimen, then. It would be cruel to continue it under the circumstances. And you had better look for another Potions teacher. I think you have quite ruined this one." Flitwick turned on his heel and left the room.
Dumbledore summoned Winky. He needed to rest and eat before he dared to go back inside the poor man's mind. Best to do it now while Severus slept. He summoned Winky, who had clearly been standing just outside. "Please watch over Professor Snape for a little while. I need to leave for a time, but I will return."
"Of course, Master Headmaster! Winky will watch as long as you let her." The little house elf stood by the side of the bed and crooned at the unconscious man. "Don't worry, Master, Winky won't let anyone hurt you. My Barty had bad days too, but Winky never left him, never, even when he throws Winky across the room. Sleep well, Master." She patted Snape's hand. Severus took a deep breath, eyes still closed, then began to snore.
"Thank you, Winky. If something bad happens, tell me or Madam Pomfrey at once. He must not be allowed to hurt either you or himself. I'll tell the kitchen that you have other duties."
The elf looked up at him with adoring eyes. "Oh, thank you! Winky doesn't want to leave, oh, no."
Dumbledore wearily trudged up to his office. He had to find out what else was going on before he could rest. As soon as he sat down in his chair, he Floo'd Moody.
"Potter's nearly home now, Headmaster. Tonks saw him singing with the other boys in the car and heard some of the verses, so he must be all right. Potter won his bout at the boxing match and his cousin did, too. From what Tonks saw the spell must not have affected him that much."
Albus nodded. "Some of Snape's apprentices may have been bothered by it, too. Madam Pomfrey is pretending to do a health survey to find out."
Mad-Eye shrugged. "Small loss. Besides, Snape should be able to find out for himself without taking so much trouble."
"I hope. However, as you have often told me, very often, we should never overlook other potential sources of information on Tom and his friends. Professor Snape may not be always available," he said with an edge to his voice. "I examined his mind most thoroughly just today and he saw visions of the two Rosier children, Mr. Zabini, Miss Edgecombe, and of all people, Mr. Goyle, in some sort of difficulty because of this spell. He also saw Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, I might add, at the same time. I have a hypothesis as to why these children were affected, but I had trouble believing it once I saw that young Mr. Malfoy was also in danger."
Moody looked thoughtful. "Why isn't Snape here speaking for himself?"
"First of all, you would not believe him. Second, the attack affected him as well. I believe he attempted to protect the apprentices from the full brunt of it. I cannot imagine the pain he endured when he put that dagger into his Mark, nor do I wish to." He didn't have to. That memory had joined all the rest when the chest had been opened. "I was forced to bring his walls down to keep his withdrawal from becoming permanent. He is…disorganized just now."
"He tried to retreat like that a few times in Azkaban," Mad-Eye said. "I suspect he's much better at it now. You should have called for me. I know how to get his attention."
"I know the methods you use. They wouldn't have worked this time. I almost didn't find him, and I am far more skilled at Leglimency. In his current state of health, you would have killed him before you'd given up. As matters now stand, I don't know if he's going to recover. We had a warning about this a little over a week ago when his memory slipped. I should have paid more attention."
Alastor bit his lip. "He could be faking, you know. He had me going a few times back then, and I should know better."
"No, Moody, he's not!" Albus snarled. "And I'm the one who did much of it to him. He never would have trusted anyone else to get so close, and I ripped him to pieces. His mental walls are entirely gone now. I wish you had been there! You would know what the truth was!"
"Oh." The old Auror sighed. "If he's really that bad I'll stay out of it. And if he ends up on Longbottom Row I'll keep a watch. I've heard funny rumors about St. Mungo's lately."
"Madam Pomfrey had some tests run privately for Professor Snape. The results were in Tom's hands before they were in hers."
"Maybe he'd better go somewhere else." Moody still looked suspicious, as if he really couldn't believe that Snape was truly so ill.
Well, why shouldn't he? I had trouble believing it myself, till it was rammed down my throat. Maybe I ought to have Alastor come here and see for himself. "He went to clinic in Switzerland for Brewer's Bog this summer. Their facilities might be secure enough," Dumbledore said.
"Well, I don't know if this would work, but when we had prisoners go off their nut from the Dementors and we still had to get useful information from them, we'd put them to sleep for about a week. That sometimes rested them up enough so they'd be rational for a bit."
"He's already on a program for potions overload. Sleeping charms don't last that long," Albus said. However, it was a thought. Snape had been on sedatives since the beginning of the treatment, and most of them suppressed dream activity. This was probably a good thing, considering the nightmare hex, but the lack of proper dreaming eventually affected the mind, or why Dreamless Sleep Potion was supposed to be used for a week at a time, then stopped.
"Surely an old hand like Flitwick knows more than one. Perhaps he could rotate them."
"I'll look into it," Albus said, who felt like putting one on himself just now.
Then Moody looked off to the side and reached out for something. Mad-Eye broke into a huge smile. "A quick note from Tonks—Potter's safe at home!"
Dumbledore felt weight ease from his shoulders. But another still lay there, and he sobered quickly. "Let's not forget the price paid for that," he said. "I know I have. I know the entire Order has. Try to remember that the next time you make some comment about Snape, especially around Harry. And try not to make Mr. Weasley feel like a traitor too often, or he may decide to become one. Keeping him isolated from his family is not a good idea."
Moody blinked. "Why, I thought that was one of the rules, after what you've done with your beloved Potions Master. Or is that just because he's a Slytherin? I suppose you think it's different because Percy's one of your Gryffs."
That hurt. Possibly because it was true. He'd forgotten that Alastor was a Ravenclaw. "You've always tried to keep your other operatives free of ties as well," he retorted. "I understand why, but I suspect you didn't mind the boy sobbing on his father's shoulder instead of on your own."
Mad-Eye shrugged. "Part of the job. There's something about this work that turns grown men all wet. After a bit the little darlings become my family, as it were. I'm the only one it's safe to have hysterics around in this business. Don't tell you haven't run into the same thing with Snape, though I've heard he's managed quite a few tantrums around his students, too."
Albus suddenly realized how similar they were. Two old childless men, trying to make do with what this new War had handed them. "Of course, you never had any prima donnas working for you, either then or now."
Moody smiled briefly. "We always do. You should have heard Mally whine about her Manticore when I was in France back then. So far my lot are relatively sane this time, though the Ministry wouldn't think so. But I lost a couple back in the old days to their nerves. I'd hate to lose Snape to his, too. You must have had a lot of fun putting him back together after I cracked him like a nut in Azkaban. To be honest, he's held up a lot better than I thought he was going to. I really thought he would have strangled one of your brats by now."
"Harry Potter is still alive and well, and so far undamaged by anything more than the hideous trauma induced by having a jar of cockroaches thrown at him, at least on that front," Dumbledore said dryly. "Remember that Snape is a Slytherin, and a Death Eater. Don't you think he could have managed something a bit more…permanent, had he wished?"
"You would have to bring that up," Alastor said with a frown. "You might convince me that he's really loyal after all."
"I hope to hear both of you snipe at each other over it again," Albus said, looking down at his desk. Perhaps Moody was right, and enough sleep would help Severus return to himself.
"Get some rest, Guv'nor," the other wizard said. "You look ragged out yourself."
"I plan to. And look after yourself, too. Your little family needs its head to be up to par. They wouldn't know what to do without someone screeching 'Constant Vigilance!' at them."
"Got that part right," Mad-Eye said. "At least the Potter boy is safe, for now. That's what really matters." The Floo went quiet as the Auror left.
"I suppose so," Albus said to an empty hearth. He held his head in his hands and wept. He knew what his feelings were for the Potions Master now, and they sat in his belly like bitter gall. The Headmaster imagined a Hogwarts without Snape, and he was appalled at how barren that world seemed. Despite his annoyance at being contradicted by that contentious man, the prospect of going without seemed savorless and dull. Even without being able to perform a Patronus, let alone the Patronus Slytherin, Snape's utter devotion to his House had nearly evened the balance of the pillars of Hogwarts without that enchantment to bind him.
As he sat in his office, Dumbledore let his spirit sink down into the heart of Hogwarts, where the four pillars became one. Even now the one belonging to Slytherin shone bright, though it had begun to fade. After Bellwood had left, the Headmaster had carried an enormous burden which had gradually lightened over the years. It bothered him that one still existed at all, but he'd done nothing to help Snape find a way to perform the spells that would ease it. It had been easier to complain to Minerva every once in a while rather than reach out to Severus and heal the wounds that were so deep. Last spring, when he'd talked to Harry, he'd put the blame on Snape for not somehow managing anyway rather than admit to his own complicity.
And then he'd had the brass to threaten the man with Azkaban not five minutes later if he didn't struggle along with a broken soul anyway! Oh, yes, he'd offered help—and had sent nightmares instead.
Albus sighed as he slowly returned to this particular version of reality and rubbed his eyes. Dobby brought him a tray. "Here, Headmaster, Mistress Nurse says you need to eat, then go to bed. Help Master Severus when feel better."
"Of course, Dobby, thank you." He looked at the food and felt no appetite at all. Then he thought of something. "I hope you don't mind that Winky is helping the Potions Master just now, instead of you."
"Oh, no, Headmaster. Dobby worried when students come back, have no time to help. Winky happy crying over Master Severus, not drink bad stuff. And…" the elf said, eyes downcast, "This elf smell like Master Lucius to Master Severus. Dobby can tell."
"The professor hasn't said anything, has he?"
"Oh, no, Master Severus just sad. His eyes think about things when Dobby there. Always 'thank you Dobby'. But still sad. Winky makes him smile, till bad potions make him too sick. And Dobby is too happy talking about Harry Potter. Master Severus still says 'thank you Dobby' anyway, but is too quiet after. Winky loves only 'Master Potions Master' or just "Master", never thinks of anyone else. She belongs with Master Severus, stop crying over her Barty."
In simple language, the elf had just summed up a rather complicated set of emotional relationships. Albus wished he had that gift. "I'm glad to hear that, Dobby. Winky told me that she saw her Barty after he was Kissed. I wish I had known that earlier, or I would have understood about the butterbeer."
The elf's eyes became wide. "Bad for elves to be around Gray Ones, bad! Good thing Winky young, get over it sooner. Hate the year they were here, Headmaster. Makes all elves sick, we all drink butterbeer too much, didn't keep watch, or Fat Lady not get hurt. Bad elves, bad." Dobby hung his head.
"No, Dobby, you weren't bad. I should have remembered that Dementors have a nasty effect on house elves." He should have remembered a lot of things.
"Headmaster has lots to do to protect the wonderful Harry Potter," Dobby said.
"I know. But I have to protect other people, too," Albus said softly. The elf bowed and disappeared. He looked at his dinner. Instead of his usual hearty appetite, he found he had to struggle to get anything down. Snape had been like that for a long time, though much worse this summer. It would serve him right if he suffered even a fraction of what the Potions Master had endured for so long.
The Floo flared up again. Maybe Severus has the right idea about the wards on his, he thought. The face of Narcissa Malfoy hung in the fire, as beautiful and remote as the moon. "Forgive me, Headmaster," she said. "I tried to reach Professor Snape, but no one answers even though there's a fire in that hearth."
"He…isn't available just now," he said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Yes," she said decisively. I have to tell someone about the choice I made this morning." She took a deep breath. The stillness of her face shattered. "Draco almost died. If I hadn't been suspicious, he would have." Tears trickled down her perfectly sculptured cheekbones. "I had to fight my own son to keep him from killing himself. Then he stopped. His arm hurt badly for most of the morning. That stopped, too, and he told me the professor had stepped in somehow and protected him. I thought it was some sort of Ministry attack at first."
"What changed your mind, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"My sister. She Floo'd me and told me what really happened. It was a loyalty spell, you see, only powered by Dementors to make sure all of the new apprentices were really faithful to the Dark Lord. Then she told me what I had to do if anyone I knew was affected." She turned deathly white. "I lied to her. I told her that Draco was fine and had been all morning." For a moment she covered her face with a lace-bordered handkerchief. "She's probably called other pureblood families about their children as well."
"Madam Pomfrey said she would Floo most of Slytherin today for a health survey," Albus said. "But she dare not call just certain families. What was your decision, madam?"
"All these years I've loved Lucius no matter what. When Draco wanted…wanted to be like his father, I didn't stop him. Bella is my sister. I couldn't turn her over to the Ministry, Headmaster, you don't know what they did to her!" Her voice cracked.
"But Draco is my only child. If I knew where Bella and the rest were hiding, I would tell you now. Apparently the pain affected him, too!" She smiled grimly. "If Professor Snape was the one, then he can ask anything of me. Anything. I know he tried to talk my son out of taking the Mark, and I wondered a little about that. But we've been friends for so long, I didn't mention it to Bella. But now…" Narcissa swallowed. "I will tell you everything I know! I owled Lucius about what my sister said, and he's answered back already. He's spending a fortune keeping his guards sweet, and you might want to look into that as well. He was happy about the spell, damn him! He even said it was a good thing that Draco wasn't affected, because we'd have…we'd have to do something about it." The woman looked furious now.
"Oh, dear," said the Headmaster. "I am so very sorry. Does young Mr. Malfoy have doubts about his current situation, then?"
'Yes. We had a long talk about that. What my sister did to Professor Snape at one of the meetings affected my son deeply. He was already beginning to wonder if he hadn't been foolish already, but believed that it was what his father wanted. Now he's found out a few things about his father he did not care for. My sister will gossip about old times, and made some remarks about Snape being my husband's pet that Draco interpreted accurately, though he rather hoped not. He asked me a few questions, though we both nearly expired of embarrassment. I told him the truth." Narcissa's face was quite pink now. "I also had him look up some addresses for me. I have planned a modest gathering, with some guests whose names began with R. I also had to tell the truth why the name of Riddle isn't in the Almanach, since I carelessly lost my normal guestbook."
Dumbledore smiled. "Snobbery has its uses, apparently."
"Yes. For all of Professor Snape's er, exotic upbringing and occasional lack of manners, there is nothing wrong with his pedigree. Draco has made some comparisons and found his father wanting in both sense and sentiment in the past. I shall do my best to encourage those conclusions now."
This was unexpected. "I cannot tell you how happy I am that the boy is well, and is beginning to think for himself, though I am sad at how this came about," Albus said. "Naturally, we will take precautions with any information we are offered. We do so no matter the source, so please do not take offense. Many will think your change of heart is quite sudden."
"Go right ahead," she said crisply. "From what Kreacher has said, your…friends suspect Snape all the time. If he can manage, then I certainly can." Then she frowned. "May I speak with him? Bella has asked me to invite him to a dinner party soon, this coming Wednesday for preference. I have not been told, but I would not be surprised if I have many of the same guests that I had earlier this year when the professor was honored for his...diligence in the previous year. If you wish to do something about that, let me know. I will try to deal with the wards at the Manor. Unfortunately, I don't understand precisely how they work, and Lucius left them at a high level before he departed on that dreadful raid a couple of months ago. They appear to maintain themselves, but you might wish to consult someone who has made a study of them. Since Draco is not yet of age, he can't do much with them either. However, I believe a certain Minister of Muggle Artifacts has visited us so often in the past that he's on first name terms with the trolls guarding the grounds."
The Headmaster nodded. "I also believe Mrs. Weasley has been a guest there at times."
"Yes," she said sadly. "When I still had hopes of more children, I found her sympathetic and helpful." Then she smiled. "Perhaps I ought to consult her again about any…feminine problems. No doubt she would enjoy the chat."
That was a perfect solution. Molly Weasley was no Legilimens, but with seven children could smell a lie faster than Pettigrew could scent cheese. "I am certain she would be fascinated by anything you had to say," he said. "I am also certain that most of the men on either side would run to the nearest Dementor rather than listen to such intimate details." Including himself. It had been over fifty years since he'd been approached by a Gryffindor first-year female student with that sort of complaint and he really preferred it that way.
She laughed like the tinkling of little bells, then became serious. "And Professor Snape? He will have to attend this dinner. I can delay it a few days with some sort of culinary emergency if he…if he isn't well, but no later than Saturday, I should think."
That sobered him as well. "That may not be possible."
Her eyes went wide. "Is he—is he alive?"
"Yes. However, you should prepare yourself to do without his presence, perhaps for a long time."
"I know he wouldn't abandon Draco or any of the other apprentices. Please don't send him away on some mission!"
"That isn't the problem. In his desire to protect his students, he drew more of the spell on himself than was wise. We are hoping the effects are not permanent." Yes, yes, blame it all on Tom or Bella, his inner voice said.
He shouldn't trust Narcissa Malfoy with this much information on such short notice, but something told him this was right. The woman appeared neglectful of her family duties, but Molly had always stopped people from saying so in her presence. Since everyone knew what the red-haired woman thought of the Malfoys, this spoke volumes by itself.
"Oh," she said. "I have resources that my husband knows about, but pays no attention to," Narcissa said after a moment's silence. "If nothing else, there are spas all over Europe who would face financial collapse if they fell into disfavor with me. Many of them have private facilities for those undergoing treatment for somewhat embarrassing disorders. I know one couple who would enjoy facing the challenge Professor Snape would give them." Her lips crooked into a smile. "They would have no difficulty offering sanctuary for up to six months. After that I fear their own people would begin to talk. And no one will suspect me of being anything but the vain, selfish bitch they're used to seeing. I owe a Wizarding Debt to Professor Snape for the life of my son. He may collect it however he pleases. But if he doesn't attend that dinner, some conclusions will be drawn no matter what excuse is given."
"Not even Azkaban?" Then again, the infirmary facilities there were primitive. Yet with no Dementors, that might be preferable to sending Severus off to his death. Unfortunately, the journey there might finish the Potions Master off by itself, never mind what could happen to him there without proper supervision.
"Oh, well, of course," she said with exasperation. "Wait, what about the clinic? I heard he was having a dreadful time with that horrible potions regime."
"I like that alternative much better," Dumbledore said. In fact, he needed to speak to Lowenstein today or tomorrow anyway, since Snape was off the potions till he recovered at least somewhat from his current crisis. "He is asleep now, or was when I left him. I will keep you updated on his progress." Should there be any.
"If there…if there isn't, I beg you to watch over my son when he returns to Hogwarts. I know I haven't been the best of mothers to him, but I'm wide awake now. My sister thinks I'm weak, and she's probably right. But I will die before letting them have Draco now."
The Headmaster thought he had never seen Narcissa Malfoy as beautiful as she was this moment, afire with a mother's protectiveness and love. "The past is past. You are on the right path. I am certain you will find Mrs. Weasley helpful."
"Thank you," she said, and withdrew from the flames, which died down.
Dumbledore wasn't sleepy at all with this new development. He Floo'd the Weasleys.
Molly answered. "If you're looking for Arthur, he had to leave on an errand. And in the middle of Sunday dinner, too!"
"That's not what I called about. A curse was sent out this morning, probably making use of a Dementor's power, to hunt down those disloyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Several people have been affected. One of them was Draco Malfoy." He would let Arthur decide how much Molly should know about Percy.
"What! That little snob?"
"Yes. He survived, but his mother was outraged. I suggested that she may wish to contact you with any information. She said she might want to discuss things in terms of her health. Apparently her attempts give Lucius another heir left her with some after-effects that only women could possibly manage to discuss."
"Ah!" Her eyes crinkled with her smile. "Do you think it's for real?"
"I have seen you when someone's tried to hurt your children. She has only the one. I would fear for an Acromantula's safety if one went after her little dragon right now."
She nodded. "I'll have a talk with her tonight. I'll know once I do. Oh, and since this spell was sent after traitors, how's Professor Snape?"
"Not well. He's asleep now, and I'll know more when he wakes up." Severus must recover in time for the dinner, or give up his position as a spy. Albus had no illusions about how the enemy would react, even if Snape was having a genuine crisis with the Swiss regime.
"That bad, then?" Molly sighed. "Perhaps it's a mercy if he doesn't have to go out any more. By the end of this last year, he was looking dreadful."
And I made it worse. "We will do all we can for him. He somehow managed to stop the spell, but it was at a cost," he said dully. "Madam Pomfrey is trying to contact any other students who might have been affected, but according to Mrs. Malfoy, her sister may have spoken with the parents first."
Molly nodded. Then she gasped. "What about Harry?"
"He's fine. Moody found out that he made it home with his cousin, alive and well."
She put her hand over her heart. "That poor boy! He wrote us, and said that his aunt and uncle were being decent for once, but that he still wanted to visit us. May he, Headmaster?"
"Of course." If Voldemort had been affected by the rebound when Snape stabbed his own Dark Mark, then it should be safe for Harry to visit the Burrow for the last two weeks before school started.
"Oh, good! Little Hermione's here now, though she tires a lot faster than she ought. Poppy sent her some potions for that, though. I tested them, of course, to make sure they're wholesome, but they are helping. She says it's because she caught a bad cold at home volunteering with some small children, but she's not getting better very fast. Still not over that Ministry raid yet, is she?"
"Not really, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said. That was another problem. Dolohov's curse and the side effects of the potions used to combat it could only be countered by potions compounded for a specific person. Few Potions Masters had Snape's skills in the field, and even fewer would bother for a Muggleborn. "Be sure to make her rest as much as possible. She may have to make the potions she has last till the beginning of school."
Molly pursed her lips. "We do take the professor for granted, don't we? Is there anything he'd like to eat while recovering? His appetite's always been bad, but Poppy said it was much worse this summer because of those awful Swiss."
"I'll let you know. But Harry should be there in a few days." He wanted to distract the woman before she began asking too many questions.
"Oh, good. And don't you worry about Narcissa Malfoy. I'll know if she's telling the truth or not once I have a talk with her."
A loud crash sounded out of sight of the flames. "Ronald! How many times have I told you not to use that pan!" she shouted over to the left, and broke the connection.
Albus bowed his head for a moment. He was so tired now he didn't want to move. Then he forced himself to get up and stretch. I have failed so many people, he thought. Severus most of all. I can't let him die now. If I lose him as a spy, I will find another. It would be so easy simply to Floo the clinic, and drop Snape on them. But he couldn't, not without trying to mend matters himself. He'd lived so much of his long life in times of peace and joy. Neither Harry nor Snape had had any of that.
Harry would be happy at the Burrow for what remained of the summer. It was time for him to give what he could to Severus.
Dumbledore turned away from his window and the long shadows of deepening afternoon. The light was fading faster these days. Soon the autumn, and then the winter, would come. Would any of them see the spring again afterwards?
He sighed, and stepped away from the door that led to his bedroom and dismally walked down to the dungeon. My folly, my arrogance, but Snape is the one who paid. It's my turn now.