Death Eater No More—Chapter Thirty-Eight (Celebration and Mourning)
As Poppy watched Aline and Severus repeatedly practicing the counterspell to release Bayly from that appalling curse he'd been subjected to, she understood why Aline had indicated that a person skilled in Dark Arts would be capable of performing the spell. The jerky, precise wand motions accompanying the chant were wholly unfamiliar to one whose only experience with magic lay on the Light side. This was not the time to be learning new techniques, not when a boy's emotional well-being hung in the balance.
"Are you ready?" asked Aline. She had to admit—to herself, at any rate—that she was impressed with the man's aptitude. She'd only had to show him the spell once and he'd been able to duplicate the wand gestures perfectly. Now as long as he didn't stumble over the words (a combination of Old English and Middle English, like the curse itself), everything should be fine.
Severus lifted his wand solemnly and gave a deliberate nod. He turned to Bayly, who'd sat watching the proceedings with mixed awe and dread. To the trembling teen he said quietly, "I will not hurt you, Mr. Young. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, sir, I'm just afraid…" He gulped. "What if it doesn't work—or makes it worse?"
"That won't happen, Bayly," Aline assured him, coming over to press a cool hand on his shoulder. "Professor Snape is an expert in the field of Dark Arts. If he thought it wouldn't work or might harm you, he wouldn't do it. And if I thought it might hurt you, I wouldn't have shown him what to do."
Bayly took a deep breath and nodded. "What do I have to do?"
"Nothing. Sit there and don't move….and try not to blink at the end," said Aline. She shuffled backward a few paces out of the way and offered a quick, silent prayer to heaven for success.
Once more Severus took up position in front of the youth, raised his wand, and tapped Bayly on the head. Immediately the wand jerked to the right and proceeded to the left in an arc around the boy's head and down along his face, continuing and growing painstakingly slower as it reached the full revolution at the point of origin.
"Onchayne gemynd bindand to other," intoned Snape.
He lay his hand flat, palm up, three fingers loosely curled around the wand while the straight index finger supported the length of the wood; an abrupt thrust upward with a sharp snap of the wrist made Bayly flinch, but he didn't move from his spot. In an instant the hand reversed toward the floor and Snape slashed hard down the length of the boy's body.
"Scearu peine na mara."
A simple counterclockwise revolution of the wand in front of the face.
"Restoren pes."
Holding the wand like a quill, Severus brought it up to within two millimeters of Bayly's open eye, then he jabbed it forward with the minutest of motions as he said:
"Beon freo."
A thin, delicate golden thread of light snaked out to shoot into the young man's pupil. Trying hard to obey Professor Conn's admonition not to blink, he gripped the stool in both hands and stared straight ahead, scarcely daring to breathe.
Snape dropped his arm and stumbled back, heaving a sigh of relief and…exhaustion? Miss Conn hadn't warned him how draining this spell was, yet he felt set to topple over. He lurched around to latch onto the edge of the table, acting as nonchalant as a person on the verge of fainting was capable of acting.
It was done. Aline approached Bayly, smiling on the outside and fighting a swarm of butterflies on the inside. "Well? How do you feel?"
For a moment Bayly didn't say anything, he was sorting through his mind for the fear and shame and horror that kept him awake at night and marred every second of his days. He couldn't find it. Raising his face to the teacher he grinned ecstatically. "I feel…different. It's gone!"
Not thinking about propriety or authority or anything but sheer joy, Bayly leaped off the stool and crushed Aline in a bear hug, lifting her right off the ground and swinging her in a circle. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"You're very welcome," she answered, patting his back affectionately. Inside she rejoiced heartily, overcome with gratitude to the point of tears that it had worked, Bayly was finally spared the pain that had tormented him. "It has been my privilege to help. You can put me down now."
Bayly set her gently on her feet and turned to Snape, poised to fling his arms around the wizard, whose strength was slowly returning. Severus hastily threw up a hand at chest level to repel the attack as he stated gruffly, "I do not hug my students."
"I want to thank you, Professor. I owe you not only my life, but my sanity," insisted Bayly, inching closer in spite of Snape's caveat. One arm reached out toward the man like a zombie intent on having its brain.
"Mr. Young, if you persist in this folly I will be tempted to—to give you detention for the rest of the year," Severus growled ineffectually, growing panicky. Egads, he couldn't even manage a respectable, credible threat with this dizzying feebleness, and he certainly wasn't stable enough yet to flee or resist!
"I'm willing to risk that, sir," smiled Bayly, obviously not intimidated, his eyes gleaming with euphoria. He'd welcome the chance to spend every day after class with the Potions master! "I need to show my gratitude and appreciation for all you've done for me."
"And mauling me would somehow accomplish that?" Employing a superb effort, Severus swung himself around onto the stool next to Bayly's vacated seat. "A handshake will do, I think." He thrust out a hand, which Bayly pumped so vigorously Snape temporarily lost sensation in the limb.
Observing the scene with amusement, Aline commented, "Perhaps I should have mentioned the fleeting weakness this spell causes. Sorry about that."
"You think?" Severus sneered back.
"What weakness?" demanded Madame Pomfrey, marching over to examine the Headmaster, who brushed away her advances with an irritated swipe.
"Are you alright, Professor?" asked Bayly, genuinely concerned. He couldn't bear to think the wizard was experiencing distress on account of him.
"I'm fine," he snapped. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was people making an unnecessary fuss over him. "The question is, are you alright? Do you remember what occurred at the farmhouse?"
Bayly's excitement dimmed perceptibly and his voice took on a somber tone. He hated talking about these things, the terrible events that had happened. He turned his head to stare at the wall, which wouldn't judge him or make him feel small. "I remember. I can still see dad—him—torturing those Muggles, only now it feels….normal. I mean, as normal as watching something horrible like that can feel. It sickens me, but it doesn't feel like he did it to me anymore—like all those emotions just disappeared. It's weird, but it almost seems like a faraway, distant memory."
"I'm pleased to hear that. What of the other things—the beatings and spells he used on you aside from the curse?" inquired Snape.
Bayly shrugged one shoulder and looked down blushing as he habitually did when confronted with embarrassing or painful memories. "That's still pretty vivid, I didn't expect the countercurse would change that. He wasn't exactly the best father…"
"He was hideously cruel," Poppy interjected. "Any man who would use the Cruciatus on his son, and do the things he did—"
"We're all agreed on that, Poppy," said Severus. He doubted the kid needed a rundown of the tortures he'd endured. "We only wish we could alter or fog those memories as well."
"I don't," said Bayly softly. He moved over to flop onto the stool he'd left earlier, carefully avoiding the 'why' looks he was sure were aimed his way from three directions. Of course he lamented the fact that his father had been sadistic and didn't have the vaguest concept of love; at the same time, he realized that forty years of Voldemort's tutelage could only produce a twisted mind. He directed the next question to all the adults present. "If your dad had been brutal to you, wouldn't you want to remember it so you wouldn't ever even think to treat your kids like that?"
Severus shifted uncomfortably, for a split second fearing the boy had seen into his past. He honestly could not say he enjoyed recalling Tobias' frequent slaps and whippings…but it did help him to restrain his own urges to do bodily harm to students. "I suppose I would."
Poppy glanced knowingly at Severus. His first year at Hogwarts she'd treated him for welts and bruises on his back that he'd tried to explain away as a result of 'falling down'. Having seen much of the same on many pupils over the years, she hadn't been fooled, but she had seen fit to teach the bright, adept young Severus healing spells.
"I'm really, really grateful for taking away those ghastly emotions and all, but I don't want to forget any of what he did," said Bayly plainly. He looked curiously at Aline. "There's something I don't understand. The countercurse makes it so I don't share those terrible experiences, right? But how did it take away all the shame and disgust and—all those things I've suffered since the curse? They weren't part of it at the time…"
Aline looked pensive for a minute before speaking. "As far as I can guess, when the countercurse reversed the curse, it did so at its inception. If you never shared the torture, you wouldn't develop the negative emotions on account of it, so they were wiped away—although I imagine you still carry some damage from watching what you saw."
"That makes sense," acknowledged Young, relaxing inside. He'd been afraid to hope that the nightmares of torture and rape, the relentless fear, and the self-loathing were gone for good, but it appeared that they were. He was truly free! He was so happy he'd have kissed the woman if he thought for a second she'd let him. "Are we finished then?"
"Yes, we're finished. Unless the Headmaster has something for you to do, you're free to return to your dormitory," she answered.
Snape shook his head as if to signify he had no chores or tasks. Bayly flashed another beaming smile, bowed to the adults, and headed for the exit. Before he got there he was halted by Severus' voice.
"In the future, Mr. Young, I recommend coming to your mother or one of your teachers if you have a problem. We are here to help you."
"Yes, sir, I understand that now. Thank you both again so very much. I'm going to owl mum, she'll be so glad!" Once more he bowed, then practically skipped out the door.
"I'll be going, too," said Poppy, following the lad. "Severus, if you feel weak later, come to me. Do you hear me?"
Severus grunted a noncommittal one syllable, and Pomfrey left the room.
Left nearly alone, Aline could restrain herself no longer; she clapped her hands rapidly together as she hopped up and down grinning like a Cheshire cat. "It worked! It worked!"
"Are you only now telling me you had doubts?" asked Severus dryly.
The Potions mistress stopped celebrating and placed her hands on her hips, pouting just a bit. "They weren't doubts, per se….it's just that there's no record of anyone alive having ever seen that curse reversed, I wasn't exactly sure how much to expect. And it exceeded my expectations!" She gave another little leap of joy, to Snape's eye rolling.
"Speaking of which, how did you come to know this spell—"
"When you didn't?" Aline interrupted him with a smirk.
The glower Severus sent her way had no effect whatsoever, which made him scowl all the more. "I believe I asked the question I intended to ask."
It was Aline's turn to roll her eyes. Not finding a point in riling the wizard, who evidently had no sense of humor, she stepped up to plop next to him on the stool and said, "Like yourself, I enjoy studying the Dark Arts. In Salem there's no stigma attached to it as there seems to be here."
"Tell me about it," Snape remarked, a little astonished. He hadn't anticipated finding any common ground with this eccentric witch. "For years all I heard was that only 'evil wizards' studied such things. Salem appears to be a refreshingly enlightened place."
"In some ways," she replied, shrugging. "They certainly can't be trusted not to use that abominable curse, which is why it's been banned for over two centuries. Very few people even know of it anymore—once the inventor and his cronies realized they couldn't produce the countercurse, not many were willing to pass it on, and it wasn't looked favorably upon for obvious reasons."
"So how did you come to know it?" repeated Severus like a bulldog unable to let go of an intruder's leg.
"There are archives of our history, within which is a small section of very old scrolls; one of them describes scearu peine and the countercurse. Only select scholars have access to these scrolls, they're guarded and warded. With your credentials, I'll bet you could get permission to study there." Aline resisted the desire to laugh at the way he leaned forward eagerly at the prospect of new material to devour. His eyes held a spark that gave life to those otherwise fathomless orbs.
"I'll definitely look into it," he murmured, settling back onto his stool. "It still begs the question of how Dolohov got hold of the curse."
"Hmm, yes it does," agreed Aline. "Before Voldemort rose to power, the scrolls weren't so heavily guarded. I wonder if he somehow got in."
"Certainly within the realm of possibility. If Dolohov had known that curse for any length of time, I'm sure he'd have used it before this, so he was likely given the spell by the dark lord as a reward for something shortly before Voldemort's death."
For a minute they sat in contemplative silence, then Aline perked up. It was so highly unusual she was surprised she hadn't noticed it earlier. "Do you realize something? We're having a civil, normal conversation!"
"It's been known to occur," drawled Severus. "I, myself, have had many of them."
"But not with me! We haven't sniped at each other or—at least on my part—thought up ways to wring the other person's neck." She gave a sheepish grin at the admission.
Severus swiveled his head in her direction, his face showing traces of shock he didn't try to hide. "So we are. There really is a first time for everything." Then, having been made painfully aware of their uncommon ease with one another, Snape experienced a sudden, pressing agitation at having dropped his self-protecting shields. He mentally propped them back in place, slid off the stool to find his footing steady enough, and said, "It's time I return to my duties. Thank you, Miss Conn, for alleviating Bayly's misery."
"It's my great pleasure," she returned, mystified at his reaction. She found herself studying him intently in a way that she could see made him shrink further inside himself, yet she couldn't stop herself from doing it. "And thank you for healing my concussion, Headmaster."
"Quite alright, Miss Conn." Severus nodded curtly and scurried from the room like his robes were on fire, making him feel like an awkward teenage boy, and making him angry for feeling that way.
He stormed down the nearly empty corridors back to his classroom where he flopped like a rag doll into his chair and ran a hand through his greasy hair to shove it off his face. Picking up his quill, he dipped it into the red liquid in preparation for what was destined to be a bloodbath of ink on the unlucky student's parchment.
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Lucius paced slowly back and forth across his bedroom with his tiny son perched over his shoulder. The tot's fluffy blond hair and grey eyes peeked over inquisitively, his miniature fists clutching his father's black Italian wool robes as he snuffled along biting into the butter soft fabric.
"What a good little boy you are," crooned Lucius, patting and rubbing the infant's back. All at once Ladon spit up a nasty patch of white onto his shoulder. Lucius rolled his eyes with a sigh as he hoisted the baby in front of him, his thumbs under the child's armpits and large hands cradling Ladon's head, to gaze with mock sternness at the imp. "You did that to make your father look bad, didn't you?"
In response Ladon belched loudly in his face, then proceeded directly to projectile vomiting that drenched Lucius' expensive garments in one hefty heave, not sparing the man's face. Gagging and retching, Lucius hauled the boy into the bathroom where Narcissa was getting ready for Udo Nott's funeral.
"Honey, what happened—oh, no!" She wrinkled her nose and held her breath as she plucked the now-crying infant away from his father. "Ladon, sweetie, is my precious baby alright?" she cooed softly, rocking her son while Lucius shot her a cross glare, which she ignored.
"Don't mind me, Narcissa, I'm only puked on." Already he was stripping off the offensive, smelly clothes, trying desperately not to vomit himself. As he climbed into the shower he griped, "He's definitely your son."
"Don't pick on my baby," she ordered, pulling aside the curtain so he could hear. Her eyes lingered over his nude body, so pale and taut, so beautiful still.
"See something you like?" leered the wizard. He let the water douse him, rinsing away most of Ladon's little gift, and began rubbing soap over his body. "Why don't you join me, love? Let Draco watch the baby for a little while."
A hint of a smile touched her lips; the glint in her eye matched that in his. "You know it's too soon, Lucius. Ladon isn't even two weeks old yet!"
"You can bathe anytime, Narcissa. I don't recall suggesting anything beyond that," replied her husband, smirking. He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled the smile that never failed to capture her heart.
"Lucius, don't. We shouldn't even be talking like this when we're headed to the funeral of one of your friends." Narcissa pulled her head out of the shower to carry Ladon into the bedroom. He appeared to be unsullied, that was a relief.
Snuggling the sleepy infant to her chest, she went to Lucius' closet to pick him out another set of robes, which she laid out on the bed. Andromeda would be here soon to babysit Ladon while they were gone, she'd better go downstairs to wait. As much as Lucius loved having his wife watch him dress—and as much as she enjoyed it—she'd have to forego the pleasure this time.
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The Malfoys were one of the first families to arrive at the church, where the coffin with 'Nott's' body sat up at the front in the aisle between the rows of pews. As was customary before the service began, the lid to the casket was open. Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco wandered up the aisle to view the body and pay their final respects, both men feeling like heels for not telling the sniffling Narcissa the truth.
Only a few minutes had passed when Fidelia and her children made their appearance. Lucius motioned surreptitiously and said quietly, "Draco, take your mother to talk to Fidelia. I'll be along in a minute."
Lucius gazed down at the body, startled yet again by how like Nott the corpse appeared. Had he not heard the story from Rodolphus himself and seen the real Nott with his own eyes, he would certainly believe this wizard was the Death Eater he'd known for twenty years. The man lay serenely, eyes closed, hands folded over his stomach…and Nott's family ring glaring up at all and sundry.
Furtively Lucius removed his wand from his cane and pointed it at the ring, which easily slipped off the wizard's finger and scooted to the side of the coffin nearest Malfoy; with a quick glance about to assure himself no one was watching, Lucius reached into the casket, snatched up the ring in his fist, and casually deposited it into his trouser pocket under the pretense of rummaging for a handkerchief, which he produced long enough to dab at dry eyes before placing it into his breast pocket.
Again pointing the wand, he lifted the left hand and placed it overtop the right hand, a reversal of position that conveniently his the fact that the ring was no longer there.
He slid the wand back into its spot in the body of his cane and strode down the aisle to offer condolences to Fidelia, Theo, and the other children. He quickened his pace when Fidelia raised her voice at a wizard who obviously didn't belong here, a redheaded young man wearing a green tweed blazer like a Muggle.
"Get out! You have no right to be here, you murdered him!" shrieked the widow, held back from attacking the man by her son Theo. In her grief and frustration she burst into tears, causing the younger children to break into sobs.
Lucius deliberately stalked right up to the young man, who gave the impression he'd have backed up if he weren't already flat against the wall at the back of the church. Sneering with undisguised loathing and contempt, Lucius said, "You're not so bold now that I'm no longer in a prison cell. Percy Weasley, isn't it? I had no idea you and Nott were friends."
"We aren't!" Percy retorted. "I mean, we weren't. I've been assigned here—"
"To monitor the funeral?" Lucius finished in a drawl, eyeing Percy coldly. "How gauche. While I wouldn't wager a galleon on your intelligence, I had thought Shacklebolt possessed more common sense than to think any Death Eater still at large would be fool enough to show up here. The family ought to be permitted to grieve in peace."
Percy had the decency to look abashed. "It's not my choice, Runcorn ordered me and two others to come."
"Why? Nott has been declared officially dead. He's lying there in front of your face!" Lucius snarled, pointing down the aisle with his cane at the casket. "No Death Eater is going to come. Is the family somehow suspect?"
"No…I don't think so." Percy shuffled uncomfortably. He hadn't asked for this task!
"Then don't you agree that waiting outside would be the proper thing to do?" asked Malfoy through clenched teeth. Despite his fury, he fully understood the workings of the Ministry. Until Nott was buried, there would be no respite from the aurors; the Nott family had been under surveillance right up until 'Udo' was killed, and even now Fidelia would be observed along with everyone in attendance, names would be secretly passed on to those in higher positions for purposes of blackmail later on. If anyone feared that a connection to Nott would taint his reputation, he'd best serve himself by not making an appearance today.
"I've been commanded to stand guard inside," insisted Percy.
"Then might you and your cohorts show the civility of making yourselves less conspicuous? I assume you learned disillusion charms in school."
Percy jerked his head in a show of consent, then squeaked along the wall until he was well past Lucius before bolting away toward another out-of-place man stationed halfway up the church, leaning against the wall. They conversed briefly, then Percy went off to locate the third man of their team; the one leaning on the wall stood up and covered himself with a disillusion charm. Unless one looked hard for him, he wouldn't be noticed at all.
Lucius sauntered back toward Narcissa, pleased with himself. Seeing her sobbing, arms around the wailing Fidelia, made his heart ache. She hadn't been close to Nott, but the pregnancy hormones combined with her natural empathy took a toll. How he wished he could stop the pretense, stop all the needless suffering, yet he could not. Roddy was right, this was the only way Fidelia and her children—and Nott—would ever truly be free. Once the coffin was in the ground, there'd be no more need to spy on the family, they could finally resume their lives normally. Of course, Nott couldn't return to his home, too many people would see him and grow suspicious….they'd have to move the family far away where they weren't known. But at least they could be together, and the aurors wouldn't be on their shoulders anymore.
He caught Severus coming in with Jacinta, Jack, and Glenna and hurried to pull them aside in the foyer. "There are three aurors under disillusion charms here to 'document proceedings'," he muttered. "Fair warning."
Severus nodded curtly. His reputation could do without association to Nott. Nonetheless he steeled his jaw and said, "Three boys—Nott's boys—were my students. As Headmaster, I have the right and duty to be here."
"And I don't care who knows he was my friend," spat Jack. His eyes looked a bit puffy and red. "We've been like brothers since we were little kids."
Jacinta didn't say a word, she simply marched into the church right over to the family and embraced Theo. Jack took Glenna's hand and followed Jacinta in, leaving Snape behind with Malfoy.
"I hate this, watching them suffer," Severus hissed. His hawkish gaze darted around the church in search of the aurors.
"I know," Lucius commiserated. Both of them fully comprehended what was at stake here; a few day's worth of sorrow for their loved ones was a small price to pay for Nott's freedom. If the aurors detected a lack of true mourning, word might get back to the Ministry. "We'd better go in."
Lucius slid into the pew beside Narcissa and Draco, only one row from the front, which was reserved for family. He smiled inwardly…sitting so close, refusing to distance herself from the Nott family was his lovely wife's way of telling the Ministry where they could stuff their petty rules and scrutiny, and it made his heart swell. Draco looked decidedly miserable, no doubt because he wished to tell his friend Theo the truth and dared not.
"Draco!" came a whispered voice from the aisle. Draco turned his head to see Pansy, accompanied by her hulking husband. "Want to sit with us?"
The boy's glance flitted to his father, who sat in the aisle seat. The man's countenance was blank, the way he habitually kept it in public, something Draco struggled to master. And yet, Lucius had the uncanny ability to say with a blank expression a wide variety of things. Combined with a slight tilt of the head, it meant Obey me or else. A lifting of the chin meant I'm proud of you. Looking down his nose and turning his head signified How repugnant!
At this moment Lucius had raised his eyebrows but a millimeter, which said Do as a Malfoy would do.
"Thanks, Pansy…you too, Goyle. I'll stay with my family." Another of the Malfoy rules scrolled through his brain: Malfoys stick together in times of trial. He looked back at his father, pleased to see the man's chin edge upward in approval.
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Severus was walking down a strangely empty hallway in what he knew to be Hogwarts, despite how nothing looked as it should. He stopped in front of a door…the door to his old quarters before he'd become Headmaster. He knocked sharply.
Aline Conn opened the door with a puzzled frown. "Headmaster, is something wrong?"
"No, everything is fine. I merely wished to express my satisfaction with your performance in aiding young Bayly the other day. I confess I'm both stunned and intrigued by your talent, Miss Conn."
Aline blinked several times, and smiled. "Thank you. May I ask why don't you call me Aline? You use other Professors' first names."
Severus shrugged. Why did he feel like a troop of monkeys had taken up residence in his rib cage? "I forgot to give you something earlier."
"Okay. Why don't you give it to me now?" she asked, extending her hand.
"If you insist," Severus said primly. He stepped in one pace, grabbed her by the arms, drew her to his chest, and planted a kiss on her startled lips. Releasing her, he stepped back and brushed down his robe. "Good evening, Miss Conn." He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving her gaping in shock.
Snape awoke instantly with a raspy inhaled gasp. His eyes shot open and he stared into the blackness for several seconds, his heart pounding, his mind whirling, until at last he recognized that it had been a dream. Just a dream. His body relaxed against the mattress, though his eyes continued to stare at the ceiling.
"Bloody hell," he croaked.