I cannot believe that, after all this time, we are finally here at the penultimate chapter of Tricks of the Mind. Would have got here quicker if I had not taken a seven-year break. Ah well. Better late than never, as Albus would say. Not this Albus. This is an evil Albus. ~ Much love, SS19

Tricks of the Mind
Chapter 19 of 20

"Legilimens."

Legilimency was, at its heart, perfectly simple. Once a mind had been penetrated, there was little that could be truly done to prevent the perusal and examination of memories. With the lapse of control, it was even easier; he was where he needed to be even before Dumbledore realised.

He would regret teaching Severus the finer art of Occlumency, in preparation for being sent like a pig to slaughter. Dumbledore floundered, yes, trying to expel Severus – unsuccessfully – trying to divert Severus – foolishly – trying to obscure the memory Severus wanted – desperately.

But where Dumbledore was patient; Severus was even more patient. He would wait. He would persist. He wanted the memory that he no longer possessed; and every time Dumbledore tried to waylay him or distract him, he maintained that desire. It was easier, far easier than he had thought possible when he had concocted this plan, and more concerningly for Severus was the little voice at the back of his own mind that considered just how good this felt, how he enjoyed the control, the control that Dumbledore had always had over him, the control Severus had never been afforded –

"Let me see." He soothed. He heard Dumbledore's resistance, the faltering stumbling grasping resistance, and just waited, seeing tendrils of the memory Dumbledore was trying to keep from him, but the more Severus remained, the more those tendrils could come together – for him to reach out – for him to hold – for him to tug –

Tug, he did –

Somewhere, distantly, there was pain, but that could have been either of them in the present or either of them in the past and he discarded it – he needed to see – he wanted to see – he had to see –

He saw himself. He saw himself through Dumbledore's eyes – he was small, shaking, not a child, but reduced to this state by – the clothes he was wearing – Azkaban – he did not recall – but what he recalled was not important, he needed to surrender a little of the control now, to be swept away into what Dumbledore saw and remembered. He needed to feel all that Dumbledore had felt, so he could be sure.

He let go the tiniest amount.

"Severus." Artificial affection, carefully constructed. "I wish to see you freed from Azkaban, you know that, so I have had you brought here to see me." He would not set foot in Azkaban; Azkaban was for prisoners, and Albus Dumbledore would never be a prisoner again, literally or metaphorically. "Will you look at me, child?" A term of endearment to add to the soothing; he needed the eye contact, and then he would build trust, and if Severus refused his demands then he would resort to the other means – but he could not do that when there were others in the room – the Ministry could not see this –

"My friends." He announced to the three Ministry officials in the room, two either side of the quivering and cowering Severus, "Severus poses no threat to me; I trust him. Please allow me some time to speak with him, alone." The room had no windows that looked inward to the building and the door was solid; if they were alone, they would not be seen. They would be just them. Albus would be able to do whatever he so pleased.

Fear, overwhelming, intoxicating, suffocating, threatened his firm control of how far he allowed himself to drown – he took a breath – the image wavered – he would not lose this now –

The officials conferred and all the while Albus ensured he was smiling genially, brilliantly, benevolently. He was the Leader of the Light after all, most brilliant wizard to have ever lived, and the Ministry fawned over him, and what was this Severus Snape character anyway? He was nothing – he focused his attention on perhaps the most senior of the officials and the slightest hint of a mental suggestion meant that the man nodded his assent, and the three left him and Severus alone.

Triumph and victory flickered in his chest, but that was premature.

"Severus." He murmured, approaching the once Death-Eater now, who still would not look up from his knees, where his forehead was pressed, and where his thighs were against his chest, and where his arms were wrapped so tightly around his shins that Albus could see the muscles straining and the veins twisting with the sheer exertion. "It is just us, now." He would have to find a way to keep it just so, just them. He would always need Severus to feel slightly alone, slightly the outsider, to ensure his every confidence was passed to Albus, so that Albus would always know how he was feeling, what he was planning, whether the loyalty was wavering and fading.

The loyalty he had yet to claim.

He wanted to beg his former self, his past self, his truest self, not to look up, but suddenly he was, through Dumbledore, staring at his own irises, and they were rimmed with red and sparkling with grey and lined with purple –

"My boy. My dear, dear boy." He knew how much Severus craved affection, craved the tender tones, craved the endearing nicknames, so he would use them in plentiful amounts, both now and in the future he was envisaging, "I will free you from here, but to do so, I need something from you."

No response from the boy. Boy? Man? He was a mere twenty one – against Albus he was nothing more than a boy, but this was a boy who had made a man's choices, and Albus would be sure to remind him of that if ever he needed to in the future; Severus had made many, many choices that could be used against him, and Albus wondered how many of those he truly remembered. "You will have to answer me eventually Severus; I know you are scared. I know the prospect of spending the rest of your life in Azkaban terrifies you beyond any rational thought, but I am here to make this much easier; and I hope that your next rational thought is to accept my proposition."

A frown devastated that smooth brow, far smoother than Albus which was lined with the wrinkles of time. He needed more masterstrokes, so he lowered himself so he was on his knees before Severus, but no power had transferred and if anything it reduced Severus more, that Albus would have to lower himself so that they could be on either the same dimension of the same level, that Albus would have to lower himself into such a base and degrading position to be able to reach Severus, and reach for him he did, a hand resting upon a shaking shoulder, the other remaining in his lap – for now – "Severus. What I am going to ask is very, very simple. Should Lord Voldemort – " The terrible, terrible flinch and the softest, softest moan, "Ever return then I will need someone to help me gain information on his whereabouts. I feel you would be the best to do this. If you agree to spy, should he return, and bring me information – then I will release you from here, and you can stay at Hogwarts, where you will be safe and sound." Those black eyes had not left his, but there was a twitching of the lower halves of the eye sockets that suggested more magic needed to be cast, "Can you imagine that, Severus? Living at Hogwarts in total safety? Compare that to every night and day spent in Azkaban; where your only company is the memories, and not the pleasant memories, but the memories that the Dementors enjoy and take great pleasure and vitality from forcing you to relive, over, and over, and over again. Could you stand that, Severus? Speak, boy, tell me, could you stand that?"

Somewhere, he was shaking.

"Not – not – back to him – anything – anything but that – " The broken sentence surprised Albus, he had not been expecting such an open denial, why was Severus so afraid of Lord Voldemort that he would take Azkaban and lifetime imprisonment? "Severus, think carefully, think rationally – this is a good choice for you to take – "

"No!" Severus shook his head violently. "No, no, no, no, no!"

The strength of feeling and passionate denial was tangible in the saliva that, when spat from Severus' mouth, made contact with Albus' hand and beard. He considered. "Why are you so afraid of him?"

Severus had returned his head to his arms, "Send me back to Azkaban."

"No, Severus. I do not want to send you back to Azkaban. I want to take you with me, in the knowledge that I have a spy, a brave and intelligent and…" He leaned close to whisper, "Loyal…spy."

"No – anything else – please – anything – anything else – "

"You told me you would give me anything, Severus, when I tried to protect Lily – you swore to me you would give me anything – "

"Not this. Not him."

Albus sat back, contemplating the huddle of grey and black and white and purple and blue – what was he to do now? Severus clearly would not agree to his conditions and therefore would not sign the contract in his own mind. He could –

Yes.

Albus cast his gaze to the door, and the softest whisper and touch of wandless magic ensured the lock clicked shut –

Severus was suddenly aware he was against the wall, and there was a wand at his throat, and it was not his wand, and there was a fist clenching in his robes and that was not his fist, and he was looking up into furious but clear blue eyes – "No." Dumbledore hissed, "You will not see that – "

With a lashing out of his leg that he had learned on the streets of Muggle Cokeworth, he forced Dumbledore to recoil and as he did so he wriggled free of the grasp, holding out his hand and summoning the fallen wand to his fingers, but he knew before he was even near it that the door was locked and he would not be able to open it – and so they faced each other, wands in hand, either side of the office, both out of breath – and the portraits scattered in fear, all bar one that remained to Severus' right, and Severus only grasped his wand tighter, "What is the problem, Dumbledore? Why so scared to show me what happens next? That which I cannot remember?"

"It matters not, Severus – you will still do as I command – "

"No, Dumbledore – you will show me the rest – "

"I will not – "

"You took it – "

"I did not." Dumbledore replied coolly. "I took nothing."

Caught out, Severus stumbled a step forward, "What?"

"I took nothing Severus; you just choose not to remember."

Severus swallowed – that could not be true – "You lie."

"Not often, Severus."

Their wands were still aimed squarely at each other, and Severus was aware that Dumbledore's did not tremble, while his did, "Why would I choose not to remember?"

Dumbledore shrugged, ambivalently, "Only you can explain that, Severus. Now. Lower your wand."

"No."

"Lower. Your. Wand."

"No."

"I could disable you Severus."

"You could kill me, Dumbledore."

"…No."

Eyes, locked. Severus frowned. "Because of my potential use?"

"Perhaps."

Ever the master of riddles and arrogance and smugness and Severus' rage snapped with a jagged blast of blue light from his wand which Dumbledore met in the same moment with a return of purple – the curses met and intersected and battled for overall dominance and to disable the other, tendrils of lose magic splintering and shattering innocuous and unimportant items in the small office even as Severus heard something whispered at the back of his mind –

"You will regret this, Severus."

"If not voluntarily, then – "

He flinched, and barely deflected Dumbledore's curse away from him – Dumbledore attacked again and he protected himself, ever the defensive, and between them, in between them, their eyes locked over the crackling cracking cracked magical bursts and whether he knew he was looking, or where Dumbledore knew he was projecting, he did not know, but then between was more than gazes and magic for there was a word – spoken, thought, breathed – Severus did not know – but it was a word –

Shihai.

The curses relinquished in the same moment and Severus bent forward, one hand held up, and Dumbledore did not continue, watching detachedly, as he had in the memory, as Severus –

Severus –

Severus remembered –

The gentle finger under his chin, raising his head, the uttering of the spell, then the emptiness, no, not emptiness, there was just those eyes, and that presence, and that feeling of peace was determined by the caster of the spell, projecting onto him, projecting into him, taking him, taking over him, guiding him, guiding him to –

"No…"

Guiding him to grasp a quill.

He did not know what the words said. There was no meaning to the marks on the parchment. Were they letters? He supposed they must be. There were gentle fingers on his wrist, supporting his movement, ensuring he was able to sign, and when he signed, he supposed he ought to sign his name, not that he supposed his name mattered now, all that mattered was the strangely satisfying soft surrender –

All that mattered was him –

"That – " He backed away from Dumbledore, shaking his head, "That is – that is – "

"I did warn you, Severus. I warned you not to press so far – "

"You tricked me – " Severus interrupted, and Albus pursed his lips, "Not a trick, Severus. You surrendered."

"You gave me no choice!"

"I did say you had no choice."

"But – you – that magic is forbidden – "

"Ends, means, necessity, Severus."

"Is it still active now?" Severus whispered, and when Dumbledore did not appear to respond, he launched himself across the office, pushing the older wizard, "Is it still active now?!" He bellowed into that wizened face and those serene blue eyes, "Am I still – " His breath caught and he would not utter the word, he would not give Dumbledore that satisfaction, "Is that why you cannot kill me?" He jabbed his wand beneath Dumbledore's chin, "Answer me!"

"Your weapon is useless, Severus. You cannot harm me unless I ask you to do so; just as I cannot cause you any great harm."

His voice fractured. "All this time?"

"Always."

In his devastation that his entire future was compromised by one piece of Dark magic spoken so many years before his muscles relaxed and Dumbledore caught him as he staggered and then they were both sat on the floor of the office and Dumbledore held both his wrists as Severus attempted to pull away. "Breathe, Severus."

"That curse is against wizarding law – if anyone knew – "

"I would be arrested, of course. I would, I believe, have the same punishment that I saved you from."

"This is not – " His syllables shattered. "Saving!"

"But it was, Severus, in a way – and you saw, I gave you the chance – I gave you the opportunity – but you refused, and as you rightly identified, I have seen too much and lost too much in the past, and therefore, I had to resort to other methods. They are not methods I am proud of, but as you are seeing, the benevolence of the Light is sustained, at times, by the Dark and the grey in between."

"Release me." Severus whispered. "I will not serve you under such a pretence."

"I cannot release you. That is not how the spell works."

"It is not a spell. It is a curse."

"A matter of semantics, Severus."

"Let me go, then."

"If I let you go, you will not find peace."

Severus jerked himself away from Dumbledore and shakily got back to his feet, though Dumbledore did not move. "I do not seek peace; I seek escape."

"If you go – I will not protect you – your enemies are multiple in number, Severus. I may not be able to harm you, but others can. If Lord Voldemort returns, and you are not among his number, then he will kill you, will he not?" Dumbledore smoothed his robes as he stood, "I doubt it will be slow."

Severus turned to face away from Dumbledore.

"You know, now, Severus, so perhaps I will offer you the choice. You know that there is magic on your soul which – though I despise the term – binds you in a way to my will. You know my will is that you spy on Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort is returning, and his followers will be commanded to hunt you down and capture you and if they do so, I will not offer any protection. Whereas if you follow my command, I will do all in my power to protect you, to keep you safe, and to heal you and support you. You will always feel divided, should you leave, an inner battle, that you will not be able to resolve until you return here, to me, to do as I command."

"And if I go to the Ministry with this knowledge and show them what the great Albus Dumbledore has done?" He turned his head, just slightly, "The type of magic he is willing to use to win this war; magic that the Dark Lord himself has not even explored?"

"You could." Dumbledore reasoned. "But I think, somewhere underneath all your projected hurt and protracted sense of injustice and partial selfishness, you know that I have done what I must. I will always do what I must, to ensure the Dark does not triumph. I am sorry that this means you have become something of a pawn, Severus, but it was the result of your own choices. You forced my hand. I am entirely innocent in my decision making that led me to using that magic on you; you gave me no alternative."

Severus remained silent.

"I am saddened that all this has had to be revealed, Severus, in such circumstances. I am saddened that you have seen this, of me."

"Your worst."

"From your point of view. I see it differently."

"How?" He faced Dumbledore now. "How could you see this differently?"

"The lengths I am willing to go to, to protect the Light? This is my best, Severus. You doing the same, would be your best, not your worst. So. What is it to be?"

The final chapter will be posted on Sunday 5th July.