Chapter Thirty-One: Resentment

Severus Snape slumped into the headmaster's chair, leaned forward with his elbows set upon the ancient oak desk and buried his face into the palms of his hands. He held his eyes closed as tight as he could, pleading the night's events to fade from his mind.

"Severus?"

Snape raised his head wearily and craned his neck to the side of the chair, eyes darting upward to the portrait behind him. Dumbledore stared down from his portrait, his electric blue eyes piercing the passive exterior of the once potion's master of Hogwarts.

"Potter has the sword, as you instructed," said Snape, his voice flat.

"That is excellent news," said the portrait, "but forgive me, Severus, you seem far overexerted for the task that was at hand."

"There were…complications," said Snape, looking away. He stood then, hands flat on the desk, his gaze lost in the glassy surface of the Pensieve. He had seen many dark things in his life: the torture of innocents, mass killings of magical and non-magical people alike, and spells that few would willingly contemplate. Once, he had taken part in those things. But nothing had prepared him for dark magic he witnessed in the Forest of Dean.

"Nothing you could not overcome, I am sure."

"Miss. Granger's protective charms are exceptional but not flawless. They are adequately protected from the wandering Muggle or the inexperienced Snatcher stumbling through the country. They appear to relocate on a fairly frequent basis as well. She manages better than I expected for an unqualified witch."

"Your praise is as difficult to attain as ever, Severus," said Dumbledore as he clasped his hands together.

Snape detached himself from the desk and began to pace, arms tucked behind his back.

"Speak your mind, Severus," said Dumbledore, "I often found the answers to my questions by speaking them aloud."

"I do not wish to speak my thoughts at the present moment."

Snape halted a moment, his eyes fastened to the bookshelf in front of him.

"What has happened, Severus?"

"The ring that cursed you," said Snape, his lips curling into a grimace, "you concealed its true nature from me, didn't you?" Snape turned on his heels to stare accusingly at Dumbledore's enchanted painting. "The ring belonged to the Dark Lord." It was not a question.

Dumbledore did not answer. Instead, he nodded gravely.

Snape resumed his pacing, his steps accelerated.

"I've seen dark magic, Dumbledore, magic unfit for the eyes of adults, much less children." said Snape as he ran a hand through his greasy curtain of hair. "And yet, what I witnessed in the forest was an evil far beyond anything I'd ever imagined possible."

"What did you see, Severus," asked Dumbledore.

"I placed the sword at the bottom of a small, frozen pond at the edge of a forest clearing," said Snape, his eyes closed as he recounted the events. "As you directed, the sword needed to be claimed through a deed of courage. Potter stripped down—needlessly, mind you—broke the ice and plunged in. I waited for him to surface. The pool was no more than twenty feet deep. It quickly became clear Potter was having difficulties..." Snape shook his head as his pacing turned him about the room. His eyes found the large window overlooking the school grounds and beyond, the Black Lake. It was still dark.

"Harry came alone?"

"Yes," replied Snape. "He was clearly on watch when I lured him away with my Patronus."

Dumbledore nodded for Snape to continue.

"I approached the water to find him struggling with a locket about his neck," said Snape, his voice flat but his eyes lit faintly. "The locket appeared to be strangling him as it pulled him away from the sword and to the edge of the pond. I nearly intervened." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. Snape turned slowly once more, his eyes distant as he surveyed the previous Headmaster's face.

"Miss. Granger arrived just in time," he said, finally. "She rescued Potter from the pond and removed the locket from his neck. Potter insisted on making a second attempt but it was clear he was in no condition physically or emotionally to do so. Miss. Granger was likewise clearly emotional but appeared to have channeled it appropriately as she broke the ice sheet on the pond clean in half with a simple severing charm. She retrieved the sword without incident. I followed them back to their camp." Severus closed his eyes yet again, but even his skill of Legilimency and mental discipline could not un-see what had been seen. His ears could not un-hear what had been heard. He swallowed and recounted all of it.

"They referred to the locket as a Horcrux," asked Snape when he had finished. He eyed the portrait angrily, uncaring that his venom fell upon canvas and color. Dumbledore was dead, covered in marble. "I'm unfamiliar with the term, but I saw enough to know what it is, Dumbledore; they are destroying the fragmented soul of the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Severus, they are," said Dumbledore finally. Severus slumped once more into the headmaster's chair, summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey and poured a full glass.

"The ring that cursed you was one of these objects, yes? It contained a piece of the Dark Lord's soul?"

"It did."

"And they must be destroyed or the Dark Lord cannot truly die?"

"So long as a single one survives, even if he is ripped from his body once more, he cannot die."

"This is what you spent all your time last year teaching Potter?"

"Yes, and no," said Dumbledore. "It was actually Harry who discovered the depth of Tom's horrific scheme. I had suspected multiple Horcruxes… two or three, perhaps; I did not anticipate six of them. I taught Harry how Tom Riddle thinks. It is the key to finding them all. And Harry is uniquely gifted to do so."

"Six," repeated Snape, swallowing his first drink. "He made six of them?"

"You are taking it far better than I did, Severus."

"And you think Potter—with the help of Miss. Granger—will be able to find them all and destroy them?"

"I do," said Dumbledore.

"You said Potter shared a connection with the Dark Lord…that a piece of soul latched onto Potter when the killing curse failed?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Potter…he is one of them?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, closing his eyes. Snape poured a second glass and gripped it hard. He hated the boy. He loathed him. Still…to endure magic of such dark nature…to be handed a fate he, Severus, had been complicate in creating...was almost unfathomable. He drained the glass.

"Destroying the locket appeared to cause Potter a great deal of pain," said Snape after a pause.

"Voldemort's soul fragment is parasitic in nature," said Dumbledore sourly. "It has been attached nearly all of Harry's life, growing in strength."

"She knows his fate," said Snape, pouring a third glass. "It appears—as I've long suspected—she has feelings for Potter. Miss. Granger refuses to believe Potter must be left to his fate, and in turn, Potter refuses anything that might otherwise develop." Dumbledore smiled.

"This is excellent news."

"Excellent," repeated Snape as he scrutinized the portrait. "Miss. Granger—insufferable know-it-all she is—is far more deserving than Potter's affections." Snape drained the third glass.

"Harry does not deserve your resentment, Severus."

"He is his father over and again," said Severus, his mind tiring quickly of this repeated conversation. He hated the boy from day one. Why should that change tonight?

"You see only what you wish to see," said Dumbledore. "You continue to hold fast to a grudge wrought between you and a dead man, Severus."

"An arrogant, foolish, careless man who—"

"—made the decision you were to cowardly to make," interjected Dumbledore.

"—and allowed Lily to die," said Snape, his voice nearly rising to a yell.

"That is untrue, Severus," said Dumbledore as he rose from his chair and began to pace from one side of the portrait to the other. He did this several times before looking down on as Severus Snape as though seeing him clearly for the first time.

"I was wrong," said Dumbledore. "I believed your hatred of James were the remnants of a lingering schoolboy grudge." The aged headmaster's eyes widened in revelation. "You blame James for Lily's death."

"I blame them all," said Snape, vehemently, "the spineless rat, the gullible dog, and him." He eyed the emptied whisky glass. The lure of another glass sickened him. "He should have protected her," he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.

"What more could James have done, Severus?"

"Everything…"

"Everything," repeated Dumbledore.

"…Should never have trusted…"

"And you, Severus?"

"I did everything I could."

"Did you," asked Dumbledore seriously. "Could you look Harry in the eyes and tell him you did all you could to keep him and his family safe?"

"I—"

"Or better yet, if you could stand before Lily, would she believe you, Severus, that you did all in your power to keep them safe?"

"I came to you," he said in retort.

"You sought me out of desperation," refuted Dumbledore. "You doubted Voldemort's assurances that he would spare Lily." Snape glared at the desk. Dumbledore shook his head. "Is this the answer you would give Harry, or Lily? That you asked Voldemort to spare her, regardless of the fate of James and Harry?"

"I spied for you, I did everything you asked of me," argued Snape.

"It was never about what you did for me, Severus," countered Dumbledore. "Do not act the victim here; it was you who set Voldemort on the path he now pursues. It was you, Severus, who voluntarily turned spy against Voldemort out of guilt."

"I returned to spy on your orders," said Snape.

"You could have refused."

"And from whom, I wonder, would you have received your intelligence, Dumbledore, had I not returned?"

"I daresay things would have gone further south than they had," admitted Dumbledore. "You are still not the victim. You spied out of necessity, Severus, necessity that transpired from the guilt that plagues your soul to this day. As much as it pains me to say it, Severus, you are the one ultimately responsible for the death of Lily and her husband, even though it was not by your wand. You, Severus, are ultimately the reason Harry has never known his parents."

"Enough," breathed Snape, his knuckles white as his hands balled into tight fists.

"Even now, more than a decade past, neither James' death nor Harry's looming fate weigh on your conscience—"

"Enough, I said," spat Snape. He stood from his chair and rounded on the accusatory portrait. "I have done all that you asked and more," he said through gritted teeth. ""I have protected him, I have endured the Dark Lord's wrath on account of him, I have suffered his ignorance—"

"—for all the wrong reasons," said Dumbledore. Snape, ready to retort, deflated almost instantly. He stared at the portrait, his fists still curled tightly and his mouth slightly agape, stunned into silence.

"Perhaps I am as much to blame as you," continued Dumbledore, "it was I, after all, that placed this path of redemption before you. I had hoped the grudge forged between you and James would soften in the passing years, years that Harry spent separated from the magical world. I had hoped that the day might come when you would look upon Harry and you would not see the son of James, or the son of Lily, but to see him as his own person." Snape slumped once more into the headmaster's chair, his head and shoulders slumped over as he stared at the floor.

"What difference does it make whether I hate the boy or not, Dumbledore," he asked quietly. "The boy will die regardless of my feelings toward him."

"What difference does it make," asked Dumbledore. "Resentment is an unnecessary, heavy burden to carry, Severus. You are still among the living; do not let slip the opportunity to make amends. Take it from an old, old man who wore similar shoes; do it before it is too late."

"No," he said simply.

Dumbledore shook his head wearily. The man in the portrait was not the least bit surprised however. He had been unable to persuade Snape when he lived; he did not reasonably expect a different result in death.

"You know, Severus, I think what burns so painfully within you is the very same thing that burned painfully within me," said Dumbledore after several minutes of silence. "Where as I found shame, you found resentment for Harry because at the early age of eleven, he showed us all he was a far better man than either you or I have ever been; that he was far more selfless than you or I ever were or could ever possibly hope to be."

Snape did not reply. He did not see Dumbledore leave his portrait. He took no notice of the first rays of dawn's light as it crept into the study. He poured a fourth glass of Firewhiskey but left it untouched as he eyed the shimmering surface of the Pensieve once more.

Horcruxes.

Fragmented.

Soul.

Three words Severus did not want to remember. Three words the Dark Lord could never learn he knew. Snape drew himself unsteadily from his chair and withdrew his wand. He'd used the spell once, he remembered that much. It was his invention; the ultimate spell of a Legilimens.

"Subsidium Memoria, in Perpetuum."

A long silvery strain clung to the tip of his wand. He observed it, no longer aware of what the strand of memory contained. He held it for a moment, his mind temporarily curious of what had been so dangerous as to forget it forever. He flicked his wand gently. The silver strand slipped into the pool of reflective glass and swirled into a cloudy mass of silver and gray.

Author Note: I know, I know, this is not the chapter everyone was expecting. But a while back I had promised a chapter in honor of Alan Rickman, (Snape), and the moment finally came into fruition. I had part of this conversation sitting in the pile, intended for far later in the story, but somehow it just seemed right to insert it here. I hope everyone enjoys a slightly different take on why Snape dislikes Harry so much. (And consequently, James and Sirius). This is something I'll explore in greater detail in Courage Rising.

I am writing the next chapter too, so for those who were slightly resentful of the cliffhanger ending of the preceding chapter, I would advise you to read this chapter again. Resentment is a heavy burden to carry :)