Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

29. Chapter 29: Memory is Pain

Rated T: Mentions of torture and rape in this chapter, flashback.

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

I apologize for taking so long with this chapter, but at least it's the longest chapter to date (over 13,000 words)!

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Chapter 29: Memory is Pain

Harry stepped into the bedroom he had used for exactly one night and fought the lump in his throat. Charlie and Bill had been really nice to let him stay in here. Already, the cramped little room held good memories and felt … familiar. He was leaving it now, and probably would never come back. He could hear Mrs. Weasley talking to the Headmaster downstairs, and all of her kids were elsewhere. It would have been nice, Harry thought, to say good-bye and thanks to them all. But Dumbledore was in a hurry. He just wanted Harry to grab his clothes and things so they could leave.

The boy picked up his duffel bag and checked to make sure everything was still in it. The broken toys he had grabbed from his cupboard, the empty potion bottles, his clothes, even his blue baby blanket were all tucked away inside. There wasn't anything else he needed. With a sigh, he zipped up the bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. He missed Snuffles all of a sudden, almost more than he missed the Professor. He blinked back tears and wiped his nose on his wrist before he remembered that he was supposed to be using a hankie. But his pockets were empty when he checked. Who knew where the Professor's handkerchief had gone. The thought of losing that little thing that the Professor had given him made his eyes burn again and he sniffled uselessly.

"Hey," a soft voice said at his elbow.

"Don't cry," another voice said at his other elbow.

Harry jerked in surprise, but it was only the Twins. They were smiling down at him and their blue eyes twinkled with concern. Harry tried to smile back, but he was feeling too miserable to manage more than a tiny one.

"I'm sure you'll come visit," the boy on his left said cheerfully.

"Mum won't rest unless you do," the one on his right added.

Harry nodded and wiped his nose on his wrist again. One of the boys handed him a handkerchief from his pocket, and Harry took it gratefully. As he wiped his nose, he caught the boy's scent and he froze in surprise. Here was a way he could tell them apart. Even though, since they were brothers, (and twins moreover) their scents were very similar, Harry could find tiny differences that registered in his brain, though he probably wouldn't be able to articulate what exactly was different.

"Wh-which one are you?" Harry timidly asked the boy on his right, the one who gave him the hankie.

"I'm Fred," the boy grinned.

"But good luck telling us apart," the other boy, George, pointed out mischievously.

"Oh, I can remember you both now," Harry said confidently. "Fred smells more like … pancakes."

The twins burst out laughing and Harry felt his face blushing. "Well, I can't describe it," he mumbled self-consciously.

George was still laughing as he pulled him into a headlock and messed up his hair. To Harry's bewilderment, once he was released, Fred pulled him into a hug with Harry's back to him.

"We'll see you soon," Fred said cheerfully as he let go.

"Little Harry-kins," George finished, reaching out and messing up his hair again.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, trying to smooth down his hair. When he looked up, the rest of the red-headed kids had congregated outside the bedroom door. He felt his face growing hot again, wondering what he'd done to deserve this. The kids were telling him good-bye as if they'd … miss him. He'd miss the Weasleys, of course, but that was because he'd never had a real family before.

"Bye, Harry," Charlie said, pulling him into a quick, one-armed hug. "Maybe you can write to us."

"We'll write you!" Ron butted in, shoving a little bundle wrapped in newspaper into his chest. "Erm, I didn't get to show you my room, but I wanted to give that to you."

"Thanks," Harry whispered, on the verge of tears. He shoved the little present into his pocket to open later and accepted a quick and awkward hug from the other boy before he stepped back, red to the tips of his ears.

"Don't worry about anything, Harry," Bill said, grinning down at him and squeezing his shoulder. "I bet we'll see you again. No crying, alright?"

"Okay," Harry said with a wet laugh. He scrubbed his face with Fred's hankie and then tried to give it back. The twins vehemently told him to keep it, pretending to be horrified by the wet cloth and making Harry laugh some more.

"B-bye," little Jenny, or Ginny, or whatever her name was, squeaked at him before she ran away.

"So weird," Ron snorted in amusement. "She is never that shy. What's got into her?"

Harry shrugged. He kind of knew how she felt. He was shy of strangers too. But for all that, the little girl was still nice enough to say good-bye to him.

Percy didn't hug or touch him. He stayed a little apart from his siblings and only greeted Harry when he made it out to the hall. "You'll be fine," he said a bit gruffly, looking uncomfortably stiff. "Just … stay safe. Right?"

"Right," Harry answered quietly. Suddenly, he lunged forward and hugged the skinny, awkward boy. The hug was brief, but Harry knew how good a hug felt when you didn't know what to say or do. He remembered how the Professor used to hug him when he was crying, and it had been just what he needed. Percy seemed surprised, but he awkwardly patted Harry's shoulder before the smaller boy let go and hurried downstairs, leaving the Weasley kids behind.

The Headmaster was waiting by the fireplace in loud orange robes, still talking to Mrs. Weasley. Harry took a deep breath and braced himself.

"I'm ready, sir," he said quietly, hoping that he didn't look like he'd been crying. But apparently, he did, because Mrs. Weasley hurried forward, looking on the verge of tears herself, and wrapped him in a hug that smelled like their wonderful breakfast and fresh laundry and baking.

"Take care of yourself, dear," she murmured, giving him a firm kiss on both his cheeks. "You'll be just fine, alright? And you just let Professor Dumbledore know when you want to come visit again."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry whispered. "Th-thanks for everything … Aunt Molly."

"You're so welcome, Harry, love," Mrs. Weasley chuckled, stepping back to dab her eyes with her apron corner. "Well … I suppose that's all the good-byes done then."

Harry looked up and saw the seven red-haired siblings all hanging off the stair banister watching them. They all looked forlorn, and sad that he was leaving. He felt terrible, suddenly. He hadn't meant for them to miss him so much. Feebly, he waved at them before he took Dumbledore's offered hand and allowed him to hold him tightly as they stepped into the leaping green flames.

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Albus had not had guests in his family home for decades. In fact, he barely lived there anymore. Ever since his beloved sister died and his brother moved out to run a tavern and raise goats, Albus had been left alone in a too-large house filled with memories. His house elf, a wizened old creature that had practically raised him and his siblings, was the lonely house's only year-round inhabitant. Harry would be quite safe here, but the downside would be that the boy would be isolated, save for the house elf. Hopefully, the boy had been able to pick up enough of normal interaction through his childhood, because Albus Dumbledore could not afford to allow Harry to be further corrupted by the magical world, and yet he could not entrust the boy to another muggle family. Not only would he not be protected from Death Eater remnants, the muggles would be exposed to a werewolf, even if he picked Harry up every Full Moon. Rumours said that Fenrir Greyback was able to partially shift into his wolf even during the lesser phases of the moon.

Bumblebee Manor was old and rather grand, built near a stately old village of the type that attracted tourists. The grounds were lovely, and fenced all around with hedges and wards that would keep the boy-who-lived quite safe. Isolated it may be, but Harry would be well protected here.

Stepping out of his grand entrance floo with Harry's hand held tightly at his side, he was struck by many bittersweet memories. The last time he had stepped foot in this house had been two years ago. Gellert used to visit him here, and the thought of his old friend filled him with keen sorrow. Shaking off memories of the past, he turned to the little boy beside him, wondering how Harry liked his first view of Bumblebee Manor.

"Alright there, Harry?" the old man asked gently. The child was shivering and clutching his hand like a lifeline.

The boy jerked his head in a swift nod and yanked his hand away from Albus, trembling a bit as he brushed off his clothes and tried to pat down his hair with one hand.

"Wonderful," the Headmaster smiled. "Then I believe it is time we had a little chat, wouldn't you say, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, still not looking up at Albus Dumbledore, and fiddled with the straps of his bag.

"First, you ought to meet my house elf. Kooky!"

Harry looked up at last, curiosity on his face. There was a loud pop right in front of them, and Harry yelled before ducking behind Dumbledore's bright orange robes. The wizened house elf likely looked bizarre to the boy, and the nasty scowl on the creature's face probably wasn't doing it any favours.

"Master finally decides to come home," the house elf croaked in a voice like a rusty gate.

"Yes, I have come home, Kooky," Albus replied cheerfully. "I apologize that I was away so long this time, but you know how busy I can be."

"Oh yes, Kooky knows," the house elf snorted. "What does Master want Kooky to do with the midget?"

"Ah, this is Harry," Dumbledore answered, stepping aside and putting a hand on the boy's bony shoulder to keep him from hiding again. "Harry, this is my house elf, Kooky. Would you like to say hello?"

The boy swallowed twice before he managed to croak out something that sounded like 'hi' and Kooky scowled and didn't answer.

"Well, that's all the introductions done I think. Would you mind taking Harry's bag, Kooky? He'll be living with me for some time as my ward."

Kooky snapped his fingers without even raising his hand, and Harry's bag vanished from his hands. The boy gasped and looked at the creature with obvious fear, unconsciously groping for the comfort of his bag of clothes.

"Where does Master plan to keep his ward?" Kooky demanded, his bulbous eyes narrowing.

Albus had to take a second to keep his composure before he said softly, "The north wing ought to be best. Harry must be kept as safe as possible. There are those who wish to harm the child."

"Miss Ari's rooms be hardly fit for a dirty little boy, Master," Kooky hissed, affronted.

Albus winced internally. "I know, Kooky. Which is why you'll be fixing them up for Harry while we have a chat here. But before you go, would you mind fetching tea? It is getting on mid-morning now, and I'm a bit peckish. What do you say, Harry?"

The boy flinched at being addressed and looked up at him warily, his bright green eyes pulsing with streaks of gold. "Y-yes sir?" Harry whispered, clearly not knowing what he was saying yes to.

"Tea for two, and biscuits if you have any, alright Kooky?"

"Kooky fetches tea," the house elf grumbled. It shot a hateful glare at Harry. "And Kooky will 'fix up' Miss Ari's rooms for the nasty little boy."

"Now Kooky," Albus said sternly. "You know how much I dislike giving you direct orders … but I must insist you treat Harry with respect. As my ward, you are bound to be courteous and kind to this boy, do you understand?"

"Oh, Kooky understands," the house elf sneered. "Excuse Kooky; he has lots and lots of work since Master dropped in with no warning." With a loud crack, he rudely disappeared again and Albus sighed. Clearly, the house elf had issues, but it was only natural that the poor creature would resent a stranger taking over Arianna's rooms. Shoving thoughts of his sister far away from his mind, Albus turned cheerfully to the trembling boy at his side. It was time for their long overdue talk.

"Why don't you follow me, Harry?" he said gently. "You could get lost in a big house like this."

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Harry looked all around at everything while the Headmaster led him along a corridor and up a broad set of stairs. The house was big and airy and bright, filled with priceless things and old fashioned decorations. He felt like he had come to a rich house sometime in the past, like the mysterious manor in The Secret Garden. He couldn't help but think of the ruins he had slept in after he ran away from Snuffles and the Professor. Even the big fireplace here was similar, with a shield thing on an old-looking tapestry hanging over the mantelpiece. He had no idea that the old Headmaster lived in such a grand old house, but he supposed it suited him. The house was old and brightly decorated and mysterious, and moreover, it smelled like lemons. The creepy little elf-thing here was scary, but the Headmaster apparently could order it around and the elf could do things with magic just by snapping its twig-like fingers. That would take some getting used to for sure.

The old man led Harry into a stuffy little sitting room with a small fireplace and several windows covered with rich red drapes. With a wave of his wand Dumbledore opened the curtains, letting sunlight flood the cheery room. There was a painting of flowers and fruit on one wall, and some portraits of people in strange robes with solemn expressions above the mantelpiece. The sofa and chairs were covered in velvet upholstery of a deep red colour, and the matching rug under Harry's feet felt thick and soft. A fire immediately sprang up in the grate like a gas burner had been switched on, and Harry jumped in surprise. He was still uneasy around blatant magic, especially while the old Headmaster was in the room. He stood where he was, awkwardly trying to be inconspicuous and wondering what the Headmaster wanted to talk to him about.

"Alright now, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Why don't you have a seat? Kooky should be coming with the tea any moment now."

Slowly, Harry tiptoed into the nice room and perched on the edge of the closest chair. Dumbledore sat down across from him, and with a wave of his wand, transformed one of the sofa cushions into a table that would have looked at home in a Dr. Suess book, and set it between them with a twinkly smile. Almost at once, a tray appeared about three inches above the table and fell on it with a loud clatter that made poor Harry almost jump out of his skin. The Headmaster sighed and shook his head, looking disapproving, but not saying anything. Harry never would have dared to move if the old man hadn't held out a cup to him.

"Be careful,' Dumbledore warned him gently. "It's still quite hot. Biscuit?"

"N-no, thank you," Harry whispered. He wrapped his cold little hands around his teacup and blew on it. When he took a sip, he almost choked. It had way too much sugar. He'd never tasted anything so sweet. It made his eyes water. He didn't drink more than a few sips to avoid being ungrateful, but he really would have rather put the cup down and not drank anything.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. He cheerfully sipped his tea and munched a scone, making what Aunt Petunia called 'small talk'. He chatted to Harry about this old house, how it had been built by his great-grandfather and how he had grown up here with his brother and sister. It was hard for Harry to imagine Dumbledore being a kind like him. The only image he managed to get was a shrunk Headmaster kid with the funny spectacles and a long white beard. Harry smothered his giggled with a sip of his tea and tried to listen like a good boy, but he didn't understand too much. He sat silently while Dumbledore talked about the gardens and how there was a special place his sister had created with her magic for plants and how he would show it to Harry sometime soon. He told Harry about the times he and his brother would spy on their parents in this very sitting room from a secret passage in the wall, and pointed out a little hole in one of the paintings where a gentleman's button was supposed to be. Harry did smile at that, thinking that it would not be so bad here if there were secret passages to explore.

But eventually, the small talk stopped and Harry's teacup was cold in his hands. He felt better now, and wasn't so scared. The Headmaster really was nice. Harry remembered when the old man had come to visit the Professor and stayed for breakfast while talking to him about Hogwarts. Why had he been scared of Dumbledore again? Oh right; because the Professor didn't like him much and because Dumbledore took him back to the Dursleys. The little boy's smile faded and he swallowed hard, wondering when the old man was going to finish resting here and take him back. Dumbledore noticed how tense Harry got, because he suddenly asked if there was something wrong.

"When're you taking me back?" he asked softly, struggling to control the pounding of his heart.

"You'll be staying here at my house for some time, Harry," Dumbledore answered quietly. Although his eyes still twinkling kindly, his face looked very serious. "I'm afraid your relatives are … out of the question right now."

Harry's heart jumped in his chest and he wondered if he was hearing things. "Really?" he whispered. "You were tellin' the truth? I'm not going back there ever?"

"Well, you're not going back now," the old man said carefully. "You'll stay here under my protection for the moment, possibly for a good long while."

"What about … the Professor?" Harry asked timidly.

"He has work to do," the old man said with a gentle smile. "I'll take care of you, alright?"

Harry frowned at that, but he didn't know how to say that he'd rather stay with Professor Snape in a respectful way. He ought to say thank you, he knew … but he was starting to feel uneasy again. Besides, he was being ungrateful. Professor Snape was very busy … and it was nice of the Headmaster to let him stay here. At least it looked like here, nobody would beat him, and he would probably get enough to eat if this tea was any example. There was way too much food for the both of them, even if Harry was actually hungry.

"So Harry, you were taken from your home by a stranger, weren't you?"

"Yes," Harry answered at once, a little surprised that he had answered truthfully, so quickly. But was Snuffles a stranger? He had to stop and think about that.

"Did you know who he was?"

"Sirius Black," Harry answered again. It was an odd feeling, answering so quickly and honestly, when he would really rather not answer at all. Was the old man using some kind of magic on him?

"That's right, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "Sirius Black tried to kill you when you were a baby, and he killed your parents. He is very dangerous. Did he hurt you at all?"

"Yes," Harry blurted out, wanting to slap his hands over his mouth. "B-but he didn't do it on purpose!" he added desperately.

"I know he burned your hand … but did he do anything else to you?"

"No," Harry replied, feeling a little relieved. But why was he just blurting everything out? A panicky fluttering started in his stomach and he had to put his tea down before he spilled it with his shaking hands.

"Where is Black now, Harry? Do you know?"

"No," Harry whispered, looking down at his lap.

"Harry … why do you trust Black?"

"He's nice to me," Harry whispered, fighting uselessly against the compulsion to reply. It wasn't natural, this urge to be honest. He screwed his eyes shut and rocked slightly from the effort to keep his mouth shut. "He saved me from Uncle Vernon, and he's Snuffles too, so he protected me from the big bad Wolf," Harry babbled. "He gave me my own room and carried me and said he cares about me. He told me stories about my dad and he's … nice."

"Snuffles?" the old man repeated softly. "Harry, who is Snuffles?"

Harry struggled against the urge to answer again, determining to keep his mouth shut this time. He wouldn't tell Snuffles' secret. If he did, his godfather wouldn't be able to find him again.

"Harry, I need you to tell me who this Snuffles is. How did you meet him? Is that what Black wants you to call him?"

Harry shook his head desperately and kept his lips pressed together. He couldn't tell. He wasn't going to submit to this … whatever it was. Nobody could force him to say anything he didn't want to. His stomach flipped nauseously and the sick feeling only grew the longer he fought.

"Is 'Snuffles' your nickname for Black?" Dumbledore asked patiently, his blue eyes shrewd and no longer twinkling.

"Nooo," Harry moaned softly against the added pressure, fighting the words that were trying to get out. He pressed both hands over his mouth and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to blurt it all out. Snuffles was a stray dog, and Harry's only friend; Snuffles was actually his fairy godfather, and tried to keep him from getting hurt. Snuffles was a big black dog and he was a tall man named Sirius Black too. Harry didn't realize that he'd been mumbling the word 'No' over and over until the nausea that had been clawing his insides suddenly erupted. He fell off his chair and threw up on the floor. After he finished retching, the urge to talk wasn't quite so strong. He was able to keep his mouth shut without saying 'no'.

But his elation vanished suddenly, leaving him cold with horror at the thought of the trouble he was in now. Not only had he told an adult 'no', he had made a mess on Dumbledore's nice carpet. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry …." He cringed and wrapped his arms around his head, whimpering softly at the thought of the punishment he was about to receive.

But when the old man crouched beside him, Harry wasn't punished. Instead, Dumbledore gently rubbed his back, murmured words of comfort, cleaned the mess with a wave of his wand, and helped him onto the sofa before draping a blanket over his trembling shoulders.

"I'm truly sorry, Harry," the old man said quietly. "I was only trying to make it easier for you to tell me if anything had happened. Do you feel better now?"

"Yes," Harry answered without hesitation. He still felt compelled to answer truthfully when he was asked a question, but it wasn't so powerful. He could fight it if he wanted, and the knowledge helped him to relax a bit more.

"You'll be safe here, for now," Dumbledore said, tucking the blanket neatly around Harry. "There are some rooms in the house that were built specially for my sister … They are the safest rooms in the house. But you may not leave them unless I or Kooky are with you, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Harry whispered. His mouth felt nasty and he was still shivering and he felt dizzy. He just wanted to lie down for awhile, but he knew better than to ask before the old man was finished talking to him.

"Alright then, I'll have Kooky take you to your room." The old man stood and looked down at him with a strangely sad look on his old face. "You have no idea how special you are, my child," he whispered. "I am only trying to keep you safe. Please understand that. I am not your enemy."

Harry blinked in confusion.

"Kooky," Dumbledore called in a louder voice. There was a pop, and the strange elf-thing was standing there, scowling and flexing its twig-thin fingers. "Please take Harry to the bedroom, Kooky. From now on, he's in your care. Once you have him settled, come back and I will give you further orders."

"Yes Master," Kooky grumbled. He limped forward and grabbed Harry's foot, which was peeking out of the blanket he was cocooned in. The world seemed to shift. It was as if Harry was sitting still while everything around him was sucked away, to be replaced by a very different room. It was a round room built entirely of stone. He was sitting on a four-post bed with soft blue curtains and a coverlet, decorated with a pattern of white stars and clouds. The room was quite bare, save for some rugs on the floor, a wardrobe, and a chair by the bed. There was an open doorway to a bathroom, and beside it was a closed door of heavy wood and metal. The only windows in the room were some very high ones like slits up near the flat roof. The shape of the stone room gave Harry the feeling of being in a giant can, like the ones Aunt Petunia sometimes got soup out of.

Kooky suddenly let go of his foot and vanished with a pop, and Harry was left alone in the cold room. He shivered and hugged his blanket tightly around his shoulders as he looked around again. This was nothing like the Professor's small, cozy little bedroom, with the two nice windows and soft white curtains and powdery whitewashed walls. He spotted his empty bag hanging on the handle of the wardrobe and Harry felt his heart sink into his toes as he realized that this dungeon place was going to be his bedroom. He wondered how long he would be kept here by the old Headmaster. There was no denying that it was safe … but the wolf inside him began to howl for sunshine and fresh air.

Harry curled up on his side on top of the bed's coverlet, and sobbed his heart out, missing his Professor more than ever before. Here, there was no one to beat him, but there was no one to hold him either. There were no angry shouts, but no one to talk to either.

He was completely alone.

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"Is Harry settled?"

"The nasty boy is in Miss Ari's bed, Master, just like Master says," Kooky snarled.

Albus sighed and rubbed his face. "Kooky, please," he murmured. "I have had an extremely trying morning, and you are making it worse. Harry needs to be kept safe, and nowhere I can put him now is safe enough. Arianna's rooms are all I could think of."

"Miss Ari's rooms don't belong to the filthy little boy!" Kooky shrieked.

"They do now!" Albus said sharply, stopping his ill-tempered elf cold with his uncharacteristic outburst. "Arianna is dead," he said more gently. "But I think she would be pleased to give her rooms to a little child who needs them. You must let her go."

Kooky huffed and looked away from his master, but he didn't object.

"Harry is the boy who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort as a baby," Albus explained. "His relatives are no longer suitable, and I have no one else I trust to raise him properly. He cannot be allowed to become complacent, spoiled, or lazy. I would like for you to enlist his aid in performing chores in his quarters. I will send you some curriculum and you can oversee his education as you did for my brother and I, most admirably."

"What about magic?" Kooky asked sourly.

"He does not need that right now," Albus replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Right now, I would like for him to simply have a normal childhood. You can allow him to play when he finishes chores and school, and you can take him to Arianna's garden when you deem it prudent."

"Master is making Kooky be parent," the house-elf grumbled. "Will Master be doing nothing for filthy little boy?"

"You are to call him Harry, Kooky," Albus said sternly. "If I hear you ever call him a filthy little boy again, or any other derogative name, I will have to insist that you punish yourself. Is that understood?"

"Yes Master," Kooky snarled, reaching up to twist his own ears in agitation.

"There is more," Albus said slowly. "The reason Harry is to be kept in Arianna's chambers instead of elsewhere in the house is because he is also … a Werewolf. He was bitten almost two months ago now, and every Full Moon, you will need to lock him in a secure room where he cannot hurt anyone … including yourself. Be careful, Kooky."

"Master keeps a pet Werewolf," Kooky repeated incredulously. "Is Master going mad?"

"He is not a pet; he is an unfortunate child who was hurt through no fault of his own … like Ari was. He needs our help and protection. You were so kind and good to Arianna, and I'm sure that you will be just as kind to Harry."

Kooky was silent at that.

"You can come to me at Hogwarts if you need me, but I trust your judgment, Kooky" Albus said gently. "I'm sure you and Harry will get along splendidly. Now, I'm afraid I've left some loose threads un-snipped and I must go. Just take care of Harry and let me know if you run into any problems."

"Kooky doesn't have to listen to Harry-Wolf's demands?" the house-elf asked flatly.

"No, Kooky, you do not have to obey any of Harry's orders," Albus assured him. "He is in your care now. I leave him to you."

"Yes Master," Kooky mumbled. He bowed and disappeared with a pop, and Albus Dumbledore sighed before leaving the sitting room and returning to his floo. He had damage control to run.

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Severus Snape was back in the dungeons, brewing in six different cauldrons to keep his mind busy. But it didn't really matter. He couldn't stop thinking.

Albus Dumbledore stole his memories last night. How could the old man do that? Severus had trusted him. Not even the Dark Lord ever took his followers' memories. Obliviate was a weapon. Severus had often wondered why Obliviate was not an unforgivable curse. To steal someone's memories was almost tantamount to stealing their soul. You took a person's identity with their memories. Even if you took something painful and terrible, the person was still left with psychological scars that never went away. But according to Minerva and Lupin, Dumbledore had taken nothing but good memories from Severus. Apparently, he had actually gotten along with the Potter brat. He had even felt protective and nurturing towards the child. Well, he supposed that anyone would feel pity for an innocent child he'd saved from bleeding to death after a vicious attack. In a flash of memory, he saw the corpses of the children he had not been able to save from Death Eaters, and a righteous anger and grief rose up strongly in his chest at the memory of those innocent victims, reduced to playthings or experiments for new curses or poisons …

Severus shook his head sharply, dispelling the memory. He could feel pity, certainly. But Minerva had seemed adamant that he felt … something more, for the Potter boy. He couldn't imagine it right now, but apparently, those feelings were connected to memories that he no longer had. Maybe if he saw the boy again, muscle memory would kick in. It would be rather … awful, for the child if he expected an understanding man and instead met a bitter, impatient old git; because Severus couldn't imagine not getting irritated and annoyed with any human creature under the age of thirty.

He stirred a fever draught vigorously while adding two handfuls of chopped fresh feverfew and lowering the flame under the cauldron. He set the stirring rod down and added crushed peppercorns to a cauldron of pepper-up potion, sprinkling it over the surface and turning up the heat. The bubbling would stir the pepper in on its own. He was turning back to his Magical Core Replenisher, which was nearly done, when the chime for his office door went off in the peculiar pattern he had set for Dumbledore. He froze in panic before shoving everything behind his occlumency shields the way he had when facing the Dark Lord. He needed to project … normalcy. He needed to be mildly curious about why his memories felt off, but he would accept whatever explanation the old man came up with. It was imperative that Albus never know that he knew what was going on. He needed to protect Minerva and Lupin, who had no defense if their minds were probed. He'd been tempted to demand that they go to Flitwick for a memory wipe after they finished their council of war, but that would have required finding him, and bringing someone else into their conspiracy besides. He just had to assure Dumbledore that all was well.

Right. Should be easy.

The old man knocked on the lab door and Severus took a deep breath, glancing at the clock to note the time in case he was Obliviated again. He would know if he was missing a chunk of time.

"Come in!" he barked, purposefully putting his back to the door and slowly stirring the Magical Core Replenisher. It was bubbling like mad, almost as thick as pudding at this stage, and Severus was holding a small cup of strongly brewed Arabian coffee, the last ingredient.

"Severus, do you have a moment?" Albus asked from the doorway, where he was peeking in.

"No," Severus replied shortly, carefully stirring the potion while pouring in the coffee, which he had brewed so strong it looked like ink.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Irritated with the world, but how's that new?" Severus snapped dismissively. Act normal, act normal.

"I was worried about you, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "You've not been yourself lately. Are you certain you feel well?"

If Severus had not known that the wily old devil had wiped his mind last night, he would have believed the sincerity of his words. As it was, he felt his temper boiling with indignation. He hated to be used. He hated being manipulated. And he absolutely hated the thought of anyone messing with his head. His mind was his own, and even though a lot of the memories in it were not pleasant, they were his. Severus took a few seconds to control his rage, and still didn't turn around.

"I feel well enough to be brewing in six different cauldrons at once. What do you think?"

"All the same, I'd like for us to have a chat when you can get a break," the old Headmaster cajoled.

"Fine," Severus snapped, finally looking over his shoulder to give the old manipulator a glare that would have reduced a First Year to tears. "Now get out and let me concentrate."

Albus Dumbledore silently left, clicking the lab door shut behind him, and Severus sighed angrily before going back to work. In a few minutes, he finished the Magical Core Replenisher and bottled it, and cast stasis charms on the other cauldrons. He took one of the warm bottles he had just filled and stared at the blue potion before he drank it down, boiling hot as it was. He burned his tongue, but this particular potion worked best the fresher it was. He braced himself against the wall as his magical core responded hungrily to the potion, leaving him lightheaded. His magic roared in his chest and the bottles on the table trembled a bit with the rush of energy that washed through his body. He was left panting and invigorated, his fingers tingling with magic and itching for his wand. He directed the extra energy into his occlumency shields, and cast a patronus to get rid of the magic that was practically jumping out of his hands.

His silver doe leapt gracefully from his wand-tip and landed on the worktable, turning to look at him with wise eyes … but there was something off about it. It was smaller than it should have been and the eyes and ears were too large. Severus blinked at it in shock, unable to form a coherent thought. His patronus had changed. How was that possible? Had the Potter boy truly affected him to such a degree that his very magical core had changed?

His patronus was no longer a doe. It was a fawn.

Trembling and badly shaken, Severus canceled his charm and the small fawn vanished in a shower of blue sparks. He took a few minutes to regain his equilibrium and put the memory of his patronus far from his conscious mind. When he was ready, he took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall and left the lab, locking the door behind him out of habit. A strange thought came to his mind of expecting his lab door to be open. Was that a silver bracelet on his wrist? Blinking in surprise, Severus held his hand up to his face … and his bony wrist was as bare as it ever was.

Shaking his head at himself, though secretly wondering if he was actually remembering something Dumbledore had taken from his mind, he crossed his office and entered his sitting room. Of course the old man had made himself comfortable, ordering lunch and conjuring his own version of a comfy armchair. Severus smirked as he raised his wand and silently changed the colour of the chair from purple to a more sedate green. There. That was better. And the old man hadn't even noticed.

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled, turning to wave at him. "That was rather quick. Won't you join me?"

"Never mind that this is my sitting room," Severus muttered, taking his own chair and glaring at the feast on his cocktail table. He didn't usually eat much, and the sight of so much food when he was already so on edge made him nauseous.

"Are you hungry, my boy? I called for lunch, but I wasn't sure what you usually have."

"You could have asked the house elves what I have," Severus sneered.

"I actually did," Albus smiled. "Flip told me you never have lunch."

"Indeed," Severus snorted, glaring at the old man. "So there goes your excuse."

The old man chuckled and piled up his plate. Severus took a few crackers and some cheese, for appearance's sake. His roiling stomach wouldn't let him put anything into it right now.

"Severus, what do you remember from yesterday?" Albus suddenly asked.

"I remember absolutely nothing of importance," Severus retorted easily. "Why? Did we have some deep conversation I no longer remember?" He mentally winced. That was hitting a little too close to home, and he berated himself for letting his temper speak for him again.

"No, not at all," the Headmaster smiled, looking relieved. "You actually got into a bit of a tiff with Lupin. Have you gone out into the corridors yet?"

Severus frowned. "No," he said slowly.

"Lupin is fine, but I was worried about you, dear boy. You took quite a blow to the head."

"Did I?" Severus asked mildly. His mind was racing. Why would the Headmaster bother with such an odd story? Lupin didn't look like he'd gotten into a fight with anyone recently … but he had looked extremely nervous, especially around Severus. Could there be some truth to this story?

"I wanted to make sure you were quite alright," Albus said apologetically. "Even before your fight, you were acting … odd. And you left before Poppy could check you over thoroughly."

"Well, I feel fine," Severus snapped. Mentally, he made a note to speak to Poppy, if she hadn't been wiped yet. Perhaps she could corroborate Minerva and Lupin's claims about Potter … and other things.

"I'm glad to hear it, Severus," Albus said gently, with real concern in his tone. Severus wondered uneasily if he was the victim of some Gryffindor prank. Were Minerva and Lupin currently rolling on her office floor, laughing and his gullibility? Did they just want to cause him to doubt everything about himself, including Albus Dumbledore?

"Albus," Severus said hesitantly. "You … you trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Severus," the Headmaster replied easily, a curious tilt to his eyebrows. "I would never have hired you as my Potions Professor if I did not trust you implicitly."

"You wouldn't hide things from me? Or … or take them from me?"

Albus studied him shrewdly and Severus wondered if he'd gone too far.

"It is only that …" Severus backtracked, floundering for words and looking anywhere but at the old man's sincerely concerned face. "It is only that I do not think I trust you anymore … and I don't know why. I … my mind tells me one thing, my instincts tell me another. I don't even know why I'm thinking this, I …"

"Severus," Albus said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. "It will pass. You've had a difficult life, and you do not trust easily. I am honoured by any trust you choose to give me, however little. But I want you to know that I trust you to do what is right, and I know you will not disappoint me, however much you fear disappointing yourself. I do not blame you for re-examining why you trust me … but I think if you reflect on our past, you will find that I have given you every reason to trust me. I feel for you as I would for a son, Severus. Remember that."

Severus glanced incredulously at the Headmaster, suddenly at a loss for words and thoughts. He needed space. He needed to think. A mere hour ago, he had been completely convinced that his mind had been infiltrated and his memories stolen and modified, but now … he didn't know what to think anymore. If Albus was to be trusted, then Minerva and Lupin were up to something. But if Dumbledore was not to be trusted … who indeed could be trusted?

While Albus ate lunch, the old man started to chat cheerfully about the Ministry, saying that some Aurors and some Unspeakables from the Warding department would be coming tomorrow morning to reinforce the school's protective wards in light of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban. Though it was unlikely that the escapee would attempt to enter Hogwarts, some parents had expressed concern, so the wards had to be inspected and strengthened. Severus listened with one ear, humming or making other noises to show he was listening, but he wasn't really. He was simultaneously examining his memories, thinking about what Minerva and the Werewolf had told him earlier, and wondering what it would take for him to betray Albus Dumbledore. It had taken Lily being in danger for him to betray the Dark Lord. Did he feel that way about anyone else? An icy cold feeling trickled down his spine as he wondered whether Dumbledore had taken his memories of the boy because of that fear … that if it came down to it, Severus would choose a nine year old boy over the mightiest wizard in Britain. Had he truly felt so deeply for the Potter brat that Dumbledore felt … threatened? It was ludicrous, but the only thing that made sense. But what could possibly be the cause of such a choice? He knew from Minerva that the Potter boy was abused by his muggle relatives, (it didn't surprise him; after all, Petunia had always hated him and been jealous of Lily because of magic) and he knew from Lupin that Dumbledore condoned the abuse and didn't seem willing to allow anyone else to take Harry from that place. Severus could not imagine volunteering to raise a brat … but according to Minerva, he had offered to do just such a thing in her presence, to Dumbledore's face.

Could the loss of his memories be tied to the fact that Dumbledore, and he alone, wished to have Severus' allegiance? If so, Albus was no better than a Dark Lord himself.

Abruptly, ignoring Dumbledore's chatter about Sprout's greenhouse project, Severus stood and left the sitting room, leaving through the office, and striding up out of the dungeons. His heart pounded hard in his chest and he didn't hear anything over the thundering of his pulse. With quick strides, he made it up the dungeon stairs and passed a spot where the corridor was warped and burned. He gave it one glance before he kept walking. He didn't know if Dumbledore was following, and he didn't care. He just had to get out. He needed to get somewhere he could breathe and think … and maybe scream and let off a few very nasty curses.

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Apparition left him weak in the knees, and Severus wondered whether his magical core was still suffering, despite the potion he had drunk. He had landed in a random spot in the Scottish highlands, miles from the nearest habitable place. Rocks and mountains surrounded him, heather and clumps of grass waved near his feet, and a hare darted away from him, disappearing into a rustling clump of thistles and coarse weeds. It was a bit cloudy, but the air was still and warm. Severus drew his wand and silently blasted the nearest rocks apart, gouged a jagged crack in the earth, and slashed the grass and bushes all around him in a neat circle with various cutting curses. When he was finished with silent battle spells, he began to shout until he was hoarse, throwing showers of earth explosions in the air, calling lightning strikes around his position, setting the grass on fire and then dousing it with jets of water, and casting clouds of inky darkness into the sky. A storm was gathering from the force of his spells, and he knew that someone was bound to notice.

Tired out, Severus lowered his wand and wiped his sweaty face. His throat was sore and his clothes were singed and damp. He was covered in dirt and he felt sticky and filthy. But at least the fury boiling under his skin was gone, replaced by a helpless fear.

What do I do now? If Albus Dumbledore was not to be trusted, then who could he trust? If he could not even trust his own mind, his own memories, how could he be sure of anything anymore?

He knew only one thing with absolute clarity. He needed to find young Mr. Potter again. Perhaps the child could help him make sense of a senseless world. Perhaps seeing the boy would help jog his memory, if that was possible. The fear that he would never recover those memories and experiences almost made him scream out unforgivables, despite the lack of a target. He was standing in the middle of a black crater he had created, surrounded by the Scottish mountains. He was utterly alone.

Oh, except for the big black dog watching him from the edge of his crater.

Wait, what?

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Snivellus was sure in a snit over something, Padfoot thought with some amusement. He had never seen such a show, but entertaining as it was, he knew better than to approach. Lightning flashed and clouds rolled in, coiling like a slow-motion tornado over the dark wizard's position. It was a surprise, finding Snape all the way out here, but a plan was beginning to take shape in his mind. While Lupin was talking to Dumbledore and McGonegall about Harry, having left Padfoot with the run of his mountain cabin, Sirius Black could figure out if Snivellus knew where Harry was now. Once Snape got tired and stopped cursing the air black, Padfoot got up and stretched, carefully hopping down from the rocks he had been perched on, making his way toward Snivellus.

He watched the dark wizard warily, but Snape didn't seem interested in blowing things up anymore. The bare, black circle he was standing in looked like an impact crater, like those pictures of the moon he'd seen in muggle books. The look on Snape's face was bleak and sad, and Padfoot stopped, wondering why Snivelly looked like somebody had killed his dog or something. Not that he could picture Snape with a dog.

Snivellus looked up suddenly and saw him. Sirius Black froze.

He didn't move as the wizard slowly approached him, striding over the blackened earth, kicking up swirls of ash and powdered rock. Snape stood a few feet away, regarding him with a fair bit of angry suspicion in his scowl.

"A dog in the middle of nowhere," Severus stated flatly. "That isn't suspicious at all. If you were sent by that meddling old fool, go back to him and tell Albus I'm done. I will not be dragged back to him like a dog! I am free, and I refuse to bow before him again! Do you hear me, mutt? Tell your master that he can find a new lapdog! I'm finished with him and his games! I'm done being his willing tool and puppet! I am through being lied to and manipulated and used! Do you hear me, mutt? Tell your master he is no longer mine! I will not fight for a Dark Lord ever again, no matter how benevolent or wise!"

Snivellus was screaming by now, looking both demented and grieved. Sirius didn't know what to think, let alone say, (as if he could say anything anyway, being a dumb dog) and he wondered what Dumbledore had done to break Snape like this. It was obvious that the old man did something … unforgiveable. It was just as obvious that Snape really had been loyal to Dumbledore, but something had happened. Something to do with Harry, maybe? Padfoot just stared up at the man and made the most impulsive decision of his Gryffindorish life.

He transformed.

The look on Snape's face would have been funny, if he suddenly didn't have to dodge a nasty cutting curse.

"Hey!" Sirius protested hoarsely. He had to dodge again, a blasting curse this time, and he yelped as a rock took the curse instead and showered him with sharp pebbles. "Stop it, Snape!" he spat, as the earth exploded in front of him, covering him with damp dirt. "Stop! I'm not here for a fight and I'm not here to kidnap you either!"

"You're an animagus!" Severus shouted. "I ought to have known! That was your big secret! That was why you Marauders always followed Lupin out on Full Moons! That's how you escaped Azkaban! I ought to kill you right now, Black! You murdering traitor!"

"Hey!" Sirius yelled again, putting his hands up. "I'm unarmed, Snape! Will you just calm down and listen to me?"

Snivellus did not lower his wand, but he did stop firing spells, which was good enough. His thin, sallow face was twisted with hate and his eyes snapped like black fireballs. "Speak," Snape hissed. "Before I simply apparate you to the Ministry and have you kissed."

"And collect the reward, I'm sure," Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. "Look, Snape … I just wanted to say … I'm sorry I kidnapped you, okay? And I'm sorry about Harry too. Remus explained a bit to me … about what you did. And I wanted to say, (However hard it is for me to say) just … thank you. It was … it was decent of you to take care of him, even though Merlin knows how much you hated all of us back in the day. You didn't owe Harry a thing, but you helped him anyway."

Snape blinked and his hand trembled. The fire seemed to go out of his eyes and he shivered all over. Sirius cocked his head curiously. Was Snivellus sick? Or was he so shocked by Sirius Black actually complimenting and thanking him in one go that it was breaking his brain?

"We … we met … recently?" Snape asked hoarsely, slowly lowering his wand to his side. "You … you what? You kidnapped me? And Potter?!"

Snape's wand was back up, pointing at his chest, and Sirius took a nervous step back.

"You don't remember?" Sirius smiled awkwardly. "Well … that's odd. I mean, how the hell do you forget something like getting kidnapped? I portkeyed you from Hogwarts. You were brewing something and you got upset with me for not letting you put it in stasis or something … You really don't remember?"

"No," Snape whispered, lowering his wand again. He looked absolutely devastated … and strangely sad. "I don't remember anything."

Cautiously, Sirius took a few steps closer, and Snape didn't seem to notice him. "You knocked me out and took Harry," he said carefully. "You honestly don't remember? You took Harry to the Weasleys. I tracked you that far, then Remus came looking for me."

"Lupin," Snivellus growled, but without much heat. "He knows where you are?"

"He knows I'm innocent," Sirius retorted. "Not that I expect you to believe me, but I didn't betray the Potters. Wormtail did it."

"Worm-what?"

"Pettigrew," Sirius huffed. "Honestly, I told you all this already before you punched me in the face. Why can't you remember? Somebody hit you in the head?"

"Dumbledore!" Snape shouted, his voice a vicious snarl and his eyes flashing with fury. "He took my memories. All I remember is a typically dull summer and nothing of Potter! Minerva says I'm supposed to be taking care of him, and Lupin says I was somehow worried about the brat, and now you of all people agree with them!"

Sirius stared in horror. Snape's outburst earlier made a lot more sense now. Why would Albus Dumbledore erase the memories, (good memories, by the way) of a man who was supposedly loyal to him? Well … Sirius had often wondered why Dumbledore left him to rot in Azkaban. And he had been wondering why he'd left Harry to be hurt by the Dursleys. Why wouldn't Dumbledore treat Severus Snape the same way (or worse than) he treated his so-called friends?

"I believe you," Sirius heard himself blurting out.

Snape looked up, seeming surprised, if not outright shocked.

"There's something up with Dumbledore," Sirius burst out in frustration. "Remus sees it, I see it, and you obviously see it."

"Minerva sees it," Snape added in a dull tone.

"Okay then, there's another point for us." Sirius reached up and ran his hands through his hair, grimacing when he snagged on some knots. "So you really don't remember?"

"What is it about you Gryffindors always needing things repeated?" Snivellus snarled. "Are you deaf? I told you already I don't remember! I do not remember anything out of the ordinary for the past seven years!"

"Okay, alright, I got it," Sirius sighed, throwing up his hands in surrender. "So you don't remember. That's bad. But you haven't killed me yet, so I guess things are good."

"What terms did we last part on?" Snape demanded.

"Kind of hostile, actually," Sirius grinned ruefully. "I went a little bonkers and you punched me in the face. Then you stole my wand and used a sleeping curse, before you broke the damn thing and ran off with my godson."

Snape's blank expression morphed into a strange blend of horror and confusion. "Godson?" he repeated sharply. "You swore the oath of Godparent?"

"Yes," Sirius answered, smiling wryly. "Now do you believe me?"

"If you swore the oath, you can't possibly have …" Snape faltered, and his glare turned shrewd. "Unless you are lying," he added darkly.

Sirius snorted and folded his arms. Honestly, would he have to argue about his innocence to everyone he met? Well, come to think of it … yes, he probably would. What a pain in the arse.

"Yeah, if I'm lying about the secret-keeper thing, then I'm definitely lying about taking the godfather oath 'cause otherwise my own magic would've killed me for breaking my oath to Harry and betraying him. But If I'm not lying … then I think I already did my time in Azkaban for being an illegal animagus, don't you think?"

Snape just glared, but he suddenly put his wand up his sleeve and adjusted his stance, no longer holding a fighting position. Sirius was too shocked to say anything. Snape putting away a wand in his presence was tantamount to calling a truce. He didn't dare move, fearing that Snape was just waiting for the right moment to Incarcerous his limbs or hit him with a stunning curse. But he didn't. Snape stood there, glaring impressively, but no longer out for his blood. It was rather … startling.

"Well?" Snivellus demanded, just as snarly as ever. "Are you going to stand there with your jaw hanging open all day?"

"Oh, I, er … I don't have a wand on me," Sirius said sheepishly. "I mean, you can search my pockets if you want …"

"I have no intention of touching you, Black," Snape sneered.

"Git," Sirius growled, feeling his bad mood returning. Snape sure knew how to be an A-class bastard, didn't he? "But side-along apparition works best if we're touching, you know. We need to have a council of war and here's not a good place."

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Severus could hardly believe he'd actually let Black touch him. Thankfully, Black seemed about as uncomfortable with it as he was and let go of his arm at the earliest possible second after they landed. Severus looked up, for some reason expecting to see a little cabin in the woods with firelight in the windows. Instead he saw a small house nestled under a cliff. It was built like a cabin, but such a rickety one that Severus decided it was more like a shack than a cabin or a house. Despite Black's assurances that he wasn't a murdering traitor and he didn't have plans to kill Snape and stash his body in a well somewhere, Severus kept his hand ready to flick out his wand at a second's notice. Black didn't act guilty. In fact, he didn't look much like an Azkaban escapee. He was rather thin and gaunt, and his eyes held a haunted look that Severus was sure hadn't been there back during the war, but he didn't act crazy. He sauntered toward the cabin without a backwards glance at Snape, which was the height of stupidity. Gryffindor arrogance, Severus sneered, and cautiously followed the man, while carefully looking around for anything out of the ordinary. They were in a desolate place, and even in the middle of summer, the wind was cold.

Suspicious to the last, Severus carefully approached the cabin. Black threw open the door and sauntered in, leaving it open behind him. When Severus entered, his nerves high-strung and his senses on high alert for treachery, he was met with the sight of Black cursing while he fiddled with a wood-burning stove and a kettle. The cabin didn't have a fireplace.

Severus shook his head at the man's stupidity and marched over, reaching out to yank open the stove's belly. It was stone cold and needed to be raked out. A quick spell took care of the ashes, Severus picked up several chunks of split wood from the box next to the stove, and thrust them in before lighting them with another quick spell. He slammed the stove's door shut, filled the kettle with an Aguamenti, and slammed it on the stove.

"Merlin's balls, Snape, you don't do anything gently, do you?" Black commented with a sneer.

Severus sniffed dismissively and turned to the cupboards for tea. "You have no wand?"

"Not after you broke it," Black growled.

"I thought we were here for a war council."

Black shrugged and pulled out a chair at the rough table. There were only two chairs, But Severus pulled a chunk of wood from the box, tossed it in the air, and hit it with a transfiguration spell. In a flash, a sturdy chair almost exactly the same as the ones in his house hit the floor and Severus brushed off the seat before sitting down.

"Show-off," Black mumbled, looking rather envious. His hands twitched as if he wanted a wand, but of course he didn't have one.

Severus smirked superiorly and folded his arms. "Are we waiting for someone?"

"Moony should be here soon," Black replied. When he saw Severus' blank expression, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's Remus to you."

"I never could have guessed. 'Moony' is such a childishly obvious name for the Werewolf," Severus sneered.

"It's not half as bad as 'Prongs'," Sirius snorted, and then smirked. "Don't ask."

"I won't," Severus retorted.

"But there's no reason why we can't start now, I guess."

"Indeed," Severus narrowed his eyes at Black. "Begin by recounting, (honestly mind you!) any recent events which involved you and I, or you and … Potter."

"You called him Harry," Black replied mildly, an odd look in his eyes. "I wish I could ask you how long it took before you stopped calling him 'Potter'."

Severus swallowed hard and wondered why such an odd fact should unnerve him so much. As far as he could tell, he'd only had the Potter boy in his care for a little over two weeks. How long had it taken for him to graduate from 'Potter' to the child's first name?

"I will retrieve my memories," Severus suddenly announced, though he knew it was a slim chance that Dumbledore would give them up. He had erased them for a reason. "I must … There is too much missing." He hesitated, suddenly thinking of the strange flash of memory that kept coming to him since his memories got meddled with. "Black … have I ever been married?"

Sirius Black jerked in surprise and looked at him with innocently wide eyes. "That better not be a proposal!" he spluttered. "Because …"

"That was a joke in such bad taste that it wasn't even funny," Severus interrupted with a snarl. "Don't finish that thought, and simply answer the question!"

"No, as far as I know, you've never been married," Black sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Never," Severus repeated, frowning in consternation. "Have I …? Do you know … if I have children?"

"Oh, yuck Snape! C'mon!" Black groaned, rubbing his face. "Just thinking of you doing … Blech!"

"Black!" Severus barked impatiently. Honestly, couldn't the man get his mind out of the gutter for a simple conversation?!

The other man held up his hands, palm outwards, and sighed. "Alright, alright; look, I don't claim to be an expert in your … extra-curricular activities, but all I know is: you never went steady with a girl or really looked at one the whole seven years we went to school together, except Lily of course, so even though I've been out of the loop for seven years, I'm of the opinion that you don't have any little Snapes running around. Happy now?"

Severus frowned and didn't reply. He couldn't speak with so many thoughts competing for attention in his brain.

Give me back my son!

Was it a true memory? Or a dream? Or had Dumbledore somehow put it there?

"Snape?" Black suddenly spoke up. "Why are you asking such … weird questions? Did you meet an old girlfriend you don't remember?"

"No," Severus growled, shaking himself from his thoughts. "I have this … image, a memory, I think … but I cannot understand it or give it any context that makes sense."

"A memory of a girl? Or a kid?"

"Neither," Severus muttered. "It … likely isn't important. I believe it may simply be the remnants of a vivid dream … or possibly something from Dumbledore's memory charms."

"Hearing voices?"

"Absolutely not. Now kindly stop acting like a ten year old and tell me something I don't remember."

Black, surprisingly, obliged. He talked animatedly, waving his hands around as he used to do as a teenager when he was telling stories. Severus listened, and watched, and grew ever more bewildered. Listening to the story Black told of the two of them and young Mr. Potter … it was like listening to a story about someone else entirely. Was Severus really capable of being civil and caring and sympathetic to a child? Had he actually cooked in Black's cabin and left him alive when all of Severus' memories were telling him that he ought to have killed him where he fell? The Severus he thought he was couldn't be merciful, compassionate, and patient … could he? What had Albus Dumbledore done to him? The story of how Black had found the child in a closet under the stairs, naked and beaten, made his chest burn with indignation and horror. Was this what he had seen in the Potter boy? A terrified, abused child who shouldn't be held accountable for the sins of his parents, or his parents' choice of friends? Severus was starting to feel … uncomfortable. The feelings were foreign to him without personal memories or conviction to back them up, and he was much more likely to simply reject them. Was that actually Dumbledore's plan? To keep him miserable and tied to tasks he hated as a form of penance to soothe his restless, guilt-scarred spirit?

"So I went back later and found out that Harry's not at the Weasleys' anymore," Black was finishing. "Their kids were outside, but they seemed too sad to play. I guess they enjoyed having him there. They were all trying to figure out why you were being so nice to him when you're so mean to kids normally."

"I am attempting to figure it out myself," Severus muttered.

Black shook his head, looking almost sympathetic. "Whew, Dumbles really did a number on you, didn't he? I suppose I never realized how much of our personality is shaped by our memories."

"I have a feeling that this is not the first memory surgery I have undergone," Severus muttered through clenched teeth. "There are things … unraveling, deep in my mind. I have not had a chance to focus on them yet, but …"

"You're not going to go barmy are you?"

"Of course not, but if Albus used the technique I think he did, my memories are still here … simply buried, if you will. It allows a victim to function more or less normally while not being conscious of other memories."

"Like enforced amnesia."

"Precisely."

"Huh, makes you wonder how many folks with amnesia just got on the wrong end of a memory charm, 'specially in the muggle world."

Severus tapped his fingers against his forearms. When had he gone from exchanging deadly spells with this man to chatting amiably around a table while the kettle sang? The Potions Master shook his head minutely in bewilderment, and realized that the only reason he was sitting here with Black now was … Potter. Hmm, that made him stop and wonder just how much of his memories, or remembered reactions, were still there.

Severus got up and silently made tea, setting out a box of stale crackers, some chipped plates, and a bowl of hard sugar.

"Is this where you brought me?" Severus suddenly asked as he poured tea into ceramic mugs.

"Beg pardon?" Black blinked.

"Before …" Severus hesitated and looked around. "I … remember a cabin. I remember something, or I feel as if I should. Is this where you brought me after kidnapping me?"

"Oh that," Black chuckled. "Naw; that was a cabin James gave me years ago. It's actually on Potter land. This … this is somebody else's house."

Severus put the mugs on the table but didn't bother putting Black's tea in his reach. The other man had to sit forward to grab it, but he didn't seem to care. "Should I be worried about the cabin's owners returning in a snit?" the Potions Professor drawled snidely.

"Actually, no," Black chuckled, grinning ridiculously. "He gave me permission. I think he'll be here soon, then we can talk about what we're gonna do about Dumbledore."

"What can we do?" Severus demanded, feeling overwhelmed and hopeless again. His knuckles popped as he clenched his fist in agitation. "He is immensely powerful and influential; I am a suspected Death Eater, a very unpopular teacher, and a known Dart Arts aficionado. You are an Azkaban Escapee and a suspected Death Eater from an old Dark family. What can we two hope to accomplish?"

"I don't think it's as hopeless as you think, Snape," Black said, giving him a strange look. He tilted his head suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

Severus stood and grasped his wand as he heard the scrape of footfalls outside. Apparently, whoever it was moved remarkably quietly, since the door suddenly opened and Severus really hadn't heard anything before Black pointed it out. Nobody had snuck up on him in so long, but the thought of being ambushed out here far from help made his heart-rate speed up and cold sweat to break out on his skin. Strange and confusing thoughts and images flew through his brain so fast he felt dizzy. He felt his heart pounding heavily and his head growing light. He was having a panic-attack, he realized dully. He had a calming draught in his pocket, but he couldn't get to it. He was falling. Memory took him, with as much strength as a trip into a pensieve. He was helpless against the strength of the flashback, even though it wasn't a flashback of anything he remembered with any certainty.

He apparates to the Dark Lord's summons. His stomach twists with nausea. He arrives, already dressed in his robe and mask, and there are others here in the entrance hall. Looking up, he sees that it is not Malfoy Manor. It is a different place, the name of which he cannot recall off the top of his head. But his memory-self clearly knows, for he stiffens and dread pools in his chest. What the Dark Lord wants will certainly involve pain, for someone at least, and he can only hope against hope that the 'someone' is not him tonight.

Keeping his movements unhurried and deliberate, he follows the other Death Eaters. His arm throbs dully and he feels his wand sliding into his grip. He takes several deep breaths, struggling to recall the little bit of Occlumency that Narcissa's been trying to teach him. He manages to knock the thoughts and emotions to the back of his mind, and ends up in what appears to be a ballroom. Many of the Dark Lord's servants are gathered here already, but Severus notes that he is one of seven Death Eaters who were apparently summoned late. It is an ill omen, and he wonders what he has done recently to warrant public punishment … or perhaps death.

The Dark Lord himself lounges in his throne, his huge serpent familiar coiled around the elaborate wooden chair and flicking its tongue out at the attendants. He does not recognize the Dark Lord's slaves tonight, but they have the glassy, unfocused look of those under strong compelling curses probably unknown to Severus. Imperio does not leave the victim so … dead-looking.

"My faithful servants have arrived!" The Dark Lord calls to them, and the seven robed and masked men approach the dais where their master awaits. None of the other six seem the least bit apprehensive, even though Severus can feel his palms getting slick with sweat and his heart thumping hard against his ribs.

"Welcome, my loyal warriors," the Dark Lord says with a flourish of his pale hands. Slowly, Lord Voldemort rises, his black robes swirling silkily around his tall frame and his smooth dark hair framing his eerily pale face. His red eyes gleam out at them, and Severus flinches as he senses his Master skimming his thoughts. He tries to hide, he truly does. But the Dark Lord seems to smirk when he picks up on the young man's terror and worry that he's done something wrong that he can't remember. "No doubt you wonder what great revel I have gathered you for on this most Hallowed Eve," the Dark Lord intones, his deep voice echoing in the huge ballroom. "Rest assured that I, your benevolent Lord, have prepared the most exquisite delights for your enjoyment tonight, but first, there is the matter of these … latecomers."

Severus stiffened under the sudden piercing stare of his dark Master and his heartbeat rocketed again. What had he done? How long would his punishment last tonight? Surely not every loyal Death Eater and their spouse would be punishing him!

The Dark Lord clearly smirked, relishing toying with his servants like a cat with a bird. "I have called my seven most faithful ones together before you all, not for punishment … but for reward," he announced to the utter surprise of the seven men standing stiff and silent before him.

Severus feels his chest deflate with relief. He actually stands straighter and feels a flush of pride. He had thought he was doing well, and he wasn't in trouble for anything. Only this past week, he had impressed the Dark Lord's current Potions Master with some of his inventions. Thanks to his dark Master, Severus was able to pursue his Mastery in Potions despite him being only a poor half-blood. The thought that his creations pleased the Dark Lord made him almost smirk with pleasure and pride. He was good at something at least! Here he was proving himself! He could guess the identities of the other Death Eaters now that he knew this was a rewards ceremony. There is Lucius Malfoy, of course, and he thinks that Dolohov is there next to Notts. He wouldn't be surprised if Crouch is there too, after his actions in the battle last week.

"These seven followers of mine have been most faithful, using their talents and gifts in my service, to bring about the rise of my empire and the elimination of the weak and inferior," Lord Voldemort explained, his voice strong and compelling as always. "They have given us new numbers, and new bases of operations, and new spells and brews with which to destroy our foolish enemies. They have fought for our cause with unparalleled vigour and devotion. They have reached beyond all of my servants in their ambition for my favour … and my favour they have."

There was a polite cheer from the other followers gathered in the ballroom for this Halloween revel. Severus' heart was nearly bursting with pride, but in the back of his memory self, he knows that this pride and pleasure will not last long.

Indeed, before he even finishes the thought, he hears shuffling from behind a door to the right of the dais, and the Dark Lord flings out his hand in a dramatic gesture. He is smiling maniacally and his eyes flash red with pleasure and triumph. "Behold!" the Dark Lord bellows, his tones gleeful and smug. "I give you each the pick of your reward!"

Severus looks, along with the other six rewarded Death Eaters. The door opens and some of the new German Death Eater recruits enter; the Brutes, as they are derisively called among the first of the Dark Lord's followers. There are seven Brutes, and each one drags a prisoner with the word Mudblood carved into their forearms, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. Seven young women, muggleborn witches, are to be the rewards for the loyal Death Eaters, and the thought fills Severus with uneasy disgust. He has never understood the appeal of rape and torture. He likes the satisfaction to testing a new curse or poison and finding it works, but the thought of being given a victim of his own, that he will likely be expected to torture to death in the most depraved ways possible, fills him with nausea. But he daren't refuse his prize. He will take one, and probably kill her quickly 'by accident'.

As he decides on that course f action, he suddenly freezes where he stands and his mind screams in disbelief and horror. Third in line is a witch with red hair and green eyes that flash defiantly … and fearfully.

Lily.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Okay, this chapter turned out to be a lot more serious than I thought it would be. I've had this scene in mind for a very long time, since the chapter when Harry asks Snape if he's his dad, actually. So now we have an idea of how Snape is Harry's dad, but there are still so many details to hammer out. I'm sorry for the long long wait on this chapter, but I was having trouble with Dumbledore's house scenes.