A/N: So sorry about the delay! I crosspost this fic on AO3, and I posted this chapter there a couple weeks ago. I also posted it here at that time, but it must not have actually posted. Again, SO SORRY! Enjoy this chapter, and look for Chapter 11 very soon!
Chapter 10- Severus
Sunday morning found Severus in his usual seat at the table, nursing a fresh cup of breakfast tea and perusing that day's edition of the Prophet.
"Anything good?" Harry asked, gesturing to the paper as he walked over to the kettle and filled his own mug, taking a pre-packaged croissant from the bag on the counter.
"Typical tripe," Severus replied with a sneer. "You'll be pleased to know that you've been elevated to 'Undesirable Number 1.'"
"Excellent. What have I done this time?"
Severus flipped back to the cover page and scanned the article.
"The usual. 'Spreading dangerous falsehoods and inciting rebellion,'" he quoted, "as well as, apparently, 'forming an anti-government organization with the intent to expose the wizarding world to muggles and undermine the sanctity of our society.'"
Harry scoffed.
"To what end? Why would I ever do that?"
"Your reasons are irrelevant. It is designed to sow fear. Exposure is what our society most dreads, therefore, it is the threat you will pose. If someone were to stop and think long enough, the logic would fall apart at the seams, but this is the general populace we're talking about. There isn't an independent thinker among them. And even if there were, they lack the spine to speak up about it." Severus sighed and looked at his son's image flashing on the front of the paper. It looked as if they'd used an image from a security device at the Ministry during Harry's foray into the Department of Mysteries. He watched as Harry looked back over his shoulder and pointed his wand at someone just out of frame, shouting a spell before the image reset.
Harry leaned over the table and scrutinized the image. He smiled.
"Well, at least they don't have a current picture of me," he said. "It's going to be hard for the public to turn me in if they're looking for that face."
Severus hummed in agreement.
"They've got my name right, though," Harry said, tapping the headline. Harry Snape (formerly known as Harry Potter) Wanted by Ministry. Named Undesirable Number 1. "I guess the paperwork made it through before the takeover."
"It would seem so. They do note in the article that the photo is out of date and that your appearance has changed. There are also several hundred Hogwarts students who could easily identify you. Mr. Malfoy, included."
"I'm not worried about Malfoy. He hasn't gotten the better of me yet. Besides that, he seemed a little…unhinged."
"Which is precisely why you should be concerned. Draco is desperate in a way he has never been before. I fear it has pushed him over the edge. Before, I was able to temper his darker urges, but any influence I once had has been totally lost. His dislike of you has grown into hatred. With his father and his aunt guiding him, I fear he will be capable of more than you would think."
Harry appeared to ponder this for a moment as he pulled a piece of his croissant and ate it. He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but Severus never found out what it would have been. His left arm suddenly flared with pain. He dropped his cup onto the table with a thunk, uncaring as it tipped over and the tea began spreading and dripping over the edge in rivulets. He hissed as he pulled back his sleeve. His dark mark was writhing, the snake sliding in and out of the open-mouthed skull. The skin around the mark was red and hot. Severus felt the compulsion to apparate away to wherever the mark would take him, but he resisted it. He clenched the back of his jaw and fisted his hands, knuckles white.
His mark had flared once or twice since the night the Dark Lord had tortured him nearly to death. Each time, Severus had luckily been alone. He had borne the pain and resisted the summons, but it had been deeply unpleasant. It would end as suddenly as it began, he knew. He only needed to withstand it for a few moments. He closed his eyes and bowed his head over the table, breathing shallowly, to ride it out when he heard his son hiss a breath in through his teeth.
Severus raised his eyes to see Harry clap a hand to his forehead and heard the boy grunt in pain. Harry's eyes lost their focus and he stared blankly into the middle distance, breathing heavily as if he'd run a great distance and swaying gently. Severus stood quickly from his seat, the movement causing the pain in his arm to flare. He cried out and curled his arm into his chest as he gripped Harry's arm with his right hand.
"Harry!" he called, shaking him gently. He didn't respond. Severus shook him again, harder. "HARRY!"
Then, two things happened at almost exactly the same time. Severus's mark stopped writhing and burning and Harry's eyes rolled up into his head and he dropped sideways out of his chair. Or he would have, if Severus hadn't caught him, wincing as Harry's head lolled against his still-tender arm. He dropped to one knee and adjusted his hold on his son, moving Harry's head to rest against his chest instead of his inflamed arm and reaching up to place his fingers at the pulse point on Harry's neck.
His son's heart was racing and his head glistened with sweat. Severus could still hear his breath coming in quick, short gasps. Suddenly, he breathed in sharply through his nose and sat up, his eyes flying open. He pushed against Severus in a panic, almost knocking Severus over and unseating himself. Severus shifted his hands to Harry's shoulders and held him firmly as the boy met his eyes, the green only just visible around his dark pupils blown wide in panic. He spoke quickly, urgently, and Severus could hear the panic and fear in his voice.
"He's looking for me. He's using the mark. He's trying to track you. I don't–I don't know how it works, but I could tell. He's going to keep doing that until he finds you."
Severus gripped both of Harry's shoulders firmly and spoke calm reassurances.
"The mark doesn't work that way. It allows me to come to him, but it should not allow him to be able to find me unless I summon him." Severus paused. "Perhaps this was a false vision," he postulated gently.
"No," Harry refuted, adamantly. "No, I don't think so. You have to listen to me," Harry said, urgently, grasping Severus's shoulders in a similar way that Severus was still grasping his, but his touch was out of fear, not comfort. "He's figured out a way to use the mark to find you. He was really happy that it was working, then really angry because it didn't work well enough. He's going to try again. I know it."
Severus looked deeply into Harry's earnest eyes. It was clear that Harry believed what he'd seen. Severus, though, was not entirely convinced. The timing of the vision and the way it coincided with the burning in his scar was seemingly not coincidental, but the Dark Lord had proven himself capable of planting false information in Harry's mind. Though, Severus couldn't see a clear purpose in this endeavor in this case.
It was true that Severus didn't know all there was to know about his Dark Mark. He had done enough research to know that it was an entirely unique spell created by the Dark Lord and therefore he would likely never know its particulars unless he asked the man directly. He had done so, in fact, adding in the appropriate amount of ego-stroking and purely academic curiosity, but the Dark Lord had remained tight-lipped, saying only that it was one of his more brilliant ideas in that it allowed his followers to come directly to him without the need for pre-arranged meeting sites. That was about the extent of Severus's knowledge about it. Even Dumbledore had not gleaned much, or if he had, he had not shared it with him. It was conceivable that what Harry claimed was within the realm of possibility. Perhaps the Fidelius had thwarted his efforts. But there was still the issue of the accuracy of Harry's vision. They had proven false before.
He brought himself back to the present, filing those thoughts away for later. There was one way Severus could evaluate for himself the likely reliability of Harry's vision. Harry was still looking at him fearfully, still gripping his shoulders as he gripped Harry's, their arms outstretched between them as if they were performing a strange sort of dance, though they both still knelt upon the floor. He gave his son's shoulders a gentle squeeze and slackened his hold into something more natural, settling his hands on Harry's arms instead.
"I would not ask this of you if it was not of utmost importance. But I would like to–"
"Yes," Harry interrupted him, accurately guessing the trajectory of Severus's thoughts. "You can see it."
"Are you certain? We have an…uncomfortable history with Legillimancy."
"I trust you."
Those three words nearly knocked Severus back onto his heels. He knew Harry trusted him with the horcruxes. He knew Harry loved him as his father. He even suspected, strongly, that Harry trusted him and loved him a great deal more than he typically expressed, given his emotionally-restricted upbringing. But to hear it said so plainly still always came as a shock to him. And to hear that Harry trusted Severus not to abuse his powers of Legillimancy, even though Severus had done this very thing to him in the past, well…
Severus blinked hard to keep the tears from rising into his eyes. He would need to see clearly for this next part.
He took his right hand from Harry's arm and reached up onto the table, picking up his wand and flicking off a bit of spilled tea. Slowly, he pointed it at Harry's temple. The wand wasn't strictly necessary. Severus was capable of performing Legillimancy without it, but there was something about doing it this way, using his wand and saying the spell verbally, that seemed important. He wanted Harry to know what was happening, to have a chance to back out.
Harry didn't back out.
"Legillimens," Severus incanted deeply, and he fell into Harry's mind.
Harry's mind was familiar to Severus, and yet, it always jarred him. Harry's mind was unorganized, as Severus would expect from a teenage boy, but what was not expected, or at least took a bit of getting used to, again, was the level of Harry's emotions. Severus had forgotten that a trip into Harry's mind was like a walk through a busy carnival. As soon as Severus entered, he was bombarded by Harry's emotions as if they were hawkers at a fair, each vying for his attention. Harry felt things, and he felt them strongly. Harry's panic was foremost, followed by his fear, though there was a warmth in Harry's mind that Severus had not felt before. His trust in his father. And love. It was a pleasant change from the oppressive coldness of distrust and malice he had felt in his previous forays into Harry's psyche. The memory Severus was looking for wasn't difficult to locate. It practically flew at him and he drank in the scene. When it finished, he blinked hard and pulled his wand away from Harry's temple, breaking their connection and stepping out of Harry's mind.
He released Harry's arm and stood, reaching a hand down to help his son off the floor. Harry blinked a few times, then took the offered hand and hauled himself up.
"Did you see it?" he asked. "Are you finished?"
"Yes," Severus responded, "to both. Did you feel my presence in your mind at all?"
Harry dropped his eyes to the floor. Severus assumed that meant he had not.
"I believe we should resume Occlumency lessons."
Harry's eyes shot back up to him. Severus noted they seemed wary.
"It will not be as it was before. However, what I witnessed in your memory was…unpleasant. I do not wish for you to have to experience it again."
"It comes in handy, sometimes. Like now," Harry responded. "Without a spy in his ranks anymore, it's probably even more important that someone knows what's going on. I can help."
"Don't be foolish!" Severus snapped. "I did not vacate my position as spy so that you could fill it! He has proven that he is capable of manipulating these visions. They are not a reliable source of information. Furthermore, it is unwise to allow such a connection to remain. He is far more skilled at the mental arts than you. Though it pains him to enter your mind, he may yet devise a way to do so that does not harm him."
"Dumbledore seemed pretty confident that he wouldn't."
"You are not Dumbledore's son!" Severus said, passionately. Why he had bothered with the logical argument when this was his real concern he wasn't sure. He knew Harry would not respond to logic, but his trip into Harry's mind had reminded him of what really motivated the boy. Emotion.
He would not be a true Slytherin if he didn't use this to his advantage. And besides that, everything he was about to say was true. He looked at Harry and allowed his mask of indifference to slide away, revealing the pain and fear he felt.
"No amount of information you may gain is worth the pain it causes you," he said. "If it is strong emotions that trigger the connection, then you are likely to see a great many things that I would never wish upon you. That which makes the Dark Lord happy is nothing you should have to bear witness to. You are lucky to have seen so little thus far." He held a hand up to forestall Harry's protest. "I know that you already know what he is capable of. But knowing it and seeing it are not the same thing. I would spare you from that, if I could. I cannot force you to do this. Occlumency cannot be mastered with an unwilling mind. This was our first mistake before. But, if you will allow me, I will show you how to protect your mind and stop these visions. Properly, this time."
Harry seemed to think on this. It did not take a legilimens to see when the boy was thinking, nor when he had made a decision.
"Okay," he said. "We'll do it."
Severus allowed Harry to see the relief he felt. He relaxed his shoulders and sighed, offering Harry a small smile.
"Thank you." Harry nodded and Severus grew serious. "But first, I do believe I need to deal with the present problem." He gestured to his left arm and began rolling down his sleeve to cover the mark. "Before you ask, no, you may not come with me. I am not sure how long this will take, nor when the Dark Lord will attempt to locate me again, and I would prefer to be far from your presence if that happens. I will fetch Bill from Headquarters. If anyone can unravel this spell, it will be him. In the meantime, please stay here. I know your friends are at Headquarters, but it is a location that is known to a great number of people, and I do not trust all of them, and neither should you. Things are still quite unsettled. You are safer here. I will send you a patronus if it appears that I will be gone for an extended time."
"I really think–"
"This is not a matter for discussion. After your actions at the Burrow two days ago, and the worry you caused me then, I believe you would say 'you owe me one.'"
"This is extraordinarily unfair. And that's blackmail."
"I'm told life often is. And that is not blackmail. That is emotional manipulation. Blackmail would be if I threatened to tell Molly Weasley where exactly my son puts his hands on her daughter. Her only daughter."
"Trust a Slytherin to know the difference between blackmail and emotional manipulation."
"It is an important distinction. Do I have your word that you will remain here until I return or instruct you otherwise?"
"Yes, fine. I promise."
"Your enthusiasm inspires such confidence," Severus deadpanned. "Nevertheless, I suppose it will be the best I can get. Do please stay out of the potions lab while I am away. I would like to return to a home that hasn't been blown up."
"It was one time!" Harry called as Severus strode out of the kitchen and into the sitting room, the only room in the house that could be apparated in or out of. He turned on the spot and vanished with a pop.
He reappeared in the foyer at Grimmauld Place. A mere week ago, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix would be quiet and nearly empty in the morning on a Sunday. Today, it was overcrowded and noisy, though less bustling than it had been a scant 24 hours ago. Most of the noise seemed to be coming up the stairs from the kitchen, so Severus made his way in that direction.
Bill was seated next to his new bride and surrounded by various other Weasleys and Delacours. He had informed Severus last night that he and Fleur had elected to postpone their honeymoon, though the two did intend to move into their new home as soon as they could, likely in a few days, once the rest of Bill's family was truly settled and Fleur's family safely returned to France. Severus wished he didn't have to pull the man away from his family at a time like this, but he could think of no one else who possessed the necessary skills to assist him. In fact, he was not sure even Bill could do it, but he had no other options.
Not wanting to get caught up in the tediousness of stilted pleasantries that were his custom with the Weasley family, he hovered quietly near the top of the stairs, barely visible and thankfully within Bill's line of sight. He saw Bill's eyes flicker in his direction briefly and he quietly slunk back out of sight. A few moments later, Bill emerged up the stairs.
Severus began without preamble.
"What do you know of the magic surrounding the Dark Mark?"
Bill's eyes dipped down to Severus's now-covered wrist before quickly coming back up. His brows furrowed.
"I haven't had much chance to examine one, to be honest." He pulled his hands through his hair and began gathering it into a ponytail, before allowing it to slip through his fingers unbound. "I'm not trying to be rude, here, but I assume we're talking about yours?"
"Astute observation. It has come to my attention that it may be a…security concern."
Bill's eyebrows raised and he held his hand out and gestured for Severus to pull up his sleeve. Severus shook his head.
"Not here. A neutral location that cannot be associated with the Order, but somewhere still defensible and where the use of strong magic will not be considered unusual."
Bill nodded and cocked his head. The Weasleys were such an expressive lot. Severus was starting to see where Harry may have picked it up.
"Do you trust me?"
What a loaded question. Severus trusted very few people, to be sure. Harry was foremost on the list, though he didn't even trust him completely (he had no doubts that the boy would break a promise if he believed it would save the lives of others). He had trusted Dumbledore, though recent revelations about the man's intentions towards his son were worrying, and, of course, there was the fact that he was now dead and therefore the trust he'd held was now meaningless. He trusted Minerva with matters relating to the school. Perhaps the sad truth was that there was no one he trusted completely and implicitly. He pushed away irrelevant thoughts of flowing red hair and a loving smile. No one alive, anyway.
He arched a brow. Bill seemed to get the message. He rolled his eyes.
"You clearly trust me at least enough to come here and ask me to help you."
"I have not asked you to help me," Severus intoned.
"Oh, my mistake. In that case, I'll go back to my breakfast–"
He reached out and placed a hand on Bill's arm, stopping him from turning.
"Fine. I require your assistance in this matter. I will trust you to handle it appropriately."
"That still isn't asking, but I'll take it. Hold on to my arm."
Severus adjusted his grip and Bill twisted them away. They landed in a small, windowless vestibule. Bill immediately led him down the hall and around the corner. Wall sconces flared to life as they passed. He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and pressed his wand against the place where a door handle would be and twisted it as if he were twisting the knob. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. They walked into a large room that appeared to have been carved out of solid rock. The walls, floor, and ceiling had all been joined smoothly, leaving no sharp corners or edges, and the entire surface of the stone room had been painstakingly polished to a shine so profound Severus could see his reflection on its surface. The door swung shut behind them and latched itself with a series of heavy clicks before it appeared to melt into the surface of the stone itself, leaving only the barest outline to indicate that there ever was a door there. The only objects in the room were a table and two chairs, each made of stone so dark that they appeared to suck up all the golden light that was emanating from the circular light fixture that was seamlessly embedded in the ceiling.
Bill pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for Severus to take the other.
"Welcome to Gringotts' Curse Breaking division. It's Sunday, so most of the chaps have the day off, but Gringotts is never technically closed, so our being here won't be remarkable, even if it is noticed, which is also unlikely. Let me see it."
Severus rolled up his sleeve and laid his arm on the table. The black stone was curiously warm. Bill bound his hair up with a strip of leather he untied from his wrist and leaned over Severus's arm. He was careful not to touch it as he scrutinized it for a long moment.
"Does it always move?" Bill asked. Severus leaned forward and frowned.
"It isn't moving."
"Yes, it is. It's subtle. You wouldn't notice if you weren't really watching for it. Look."
Severus stared at it. Sure enough, it was moving ever so slowly, the head of the snake slithering down his wrist no more than a hair's breadth before returning the way it came. He could almost convince himself that it wasn't happening, except that he abruptly became aware of a very mild tingling on his left forearm that wasn't present on his right. As Bill had said, it was subtle, but it was there. Now that he had seen it, he was aware of the accompanying physical sensation. It had not done that before, he was quite certain.
He shared this newfound awareness with his companion. Bill furrowed his brow.
"Why do you think it poses a security threat?"
"Since my departure from the Dark Lord's service, he has occasionally used my mark to…entice me to return. When a summons is made, the mark moves more aggressively and burns uncomfortably. There is also an accompanying compulsion charm that is meant to encourage a Death Eater to apparate to the Dark Lord's side. The mark acts as a sort of homing beacon that will take me directly to the appointed location. Resisting the compulsion charm is not particularly challenging, but the pain has been difficult to manage. This morning, he launched another such attack. Harry witnessed it and, at the same time, had a vision that indicated that the Dark Lord was attempting to use the location properties of the mark to find me, and by extension, Harry."
"Is this like the vision he had with Dad in the Department of Mysteries a couple years ago?"
"Quite similar, yes. I have verified the vision's validity to the best of my ability. I believe the Dark Lord is close to determining a way to locate me through the mark and has likely only been forestalled by the Fidelius around our home. And even if he is not as close as it seemed, it is…imprudent of me to continue to carry a mark with a compulsion charm activated by the Dark Lord. Though I have successfully resisted its influence so far, it would be foolhardy of me to believe myself invincible to it."
"Is there anything else you can tell me about it?"
"Only what I have already said. I know very little of the nature of its magic."
"Was there an incantation when it was applied? Does You-Know-Who do all the marks himself, or does someone else do them?"
"The Dark Lord marks each Death Eater nonverbally with his own wand by pressing it against the skin. The mark faded after his supposed defeat, but began to return faintly in the months preceding his return to corporeal form two years ago. It returned fully after that night and has the same function and appearance as it did before his fall."
Bill nodded as he continued to watch the mark.
"Well, the good news is that I have a firm belief that any curse or spell can be broken. The bad news is that sometimes this can take a long time. I'm assuming you don't want to sit in this room for weeks while we figure it out, nor would you want to return home until it's sorted. Am I right?"
Severus didn't feel the need to respond to such an obvious statement. Bill didn't appear to need him to.
"Right. Here's the process, then. We call it GEMS. G is for 'gather background information.' We've done that, as much as we're able to. E is for 'examine the artifact,' which is what I will do next. This will require a bit of spellwork and maths and is usually the riskiest bit for the curse breaker, as it is where I'm most likely to encounter protective wards or curses. M is for 'magically remove.' This is when I actually remove the curse. This is when the risk is greatest to the object, in this case, you, because any object is at greatest risk when it is being magically manipulated in some way. The last step is a last-resort option, but you should be aware that it exists. S stands for 'sever the ties.' If all else fails, we remove the cursed portion of the object and return whatever we can to Gringotts for restoration. You need to start thinking about this seriously. I will do everything I can to remove this curse mark. But if I can't do it in a timely manner, and you still believe it poses a security risk, you need to consider whether or not you're willing to lose the arm. Everything below the elbow, would be my guess. If that's what it comes to, I'll have to call in help. I'm a curse breaker, not a mediwizard."
Severus blinked in shock. Amputate his left arm at the elbow? He was right-handed, but the loss of an arm, even his non-dominant one, would be a major impediment. Magical amputations were rare. Grubbly-Plank had lost a few limbs to her magical creatures, but other than her, Moody was probably the only other person he knew who'd ever had anything amputated, and he was given to understand that this was down more to the man's distrust of major medical institutions than actual magical necessity. Unbidden and at a completely inappropriate time, an image of a grievously wounded Mad-Eye encountering a curse breaker and saying, "Skip to the end, boy-o. I haven't got time to waste!" sprang into his head. He blinked hard to clear the image.
Living life with only one hand. Could he do it? He likely didn't even realize the number of things he did each day that required two hands. Perhaps the use of magic would be sufficient to compensate, but his potion-making would be affected, to be sure. There were far too many potions that required adding ingredients while stirring simultaneously. Magic could overcome many things, but in the delicate world of potions, he wouldn't always be able to risk using a spell to do what he would ordinarily do by hand. He blinked again.
Bill leaned across the table suddenly, or perhaps Severus had just missed the movement, and gripped his upper arm. He was in something of a fog, his thoughts spiraling downwards until he'd lost track of where exactly they'd begun.
"Listen to me. I haven't used 'S' since I was a trainee, and I don't intend to use it today. If there's anything to be said about us Weasleys it's that we're bloody stubborn. Like I said: I believe that every curse and spell can be broken if you take the time to look hard enough and find the right solution. But I'd be remiss if I didn't let you know that it's, you know, an option. But only if you choose to use it."
Severus jerked his arm out of Bill's grasp and narrowed his eyes.
"I do not intend to lose my arm, Mister Weasley, so I suggest you stop making excuses for laziness and get to work," Severus growled.
Bill sat back and blinked at him once, twice.
"Yes, Professor," Bill finally returned with a sharp nod. Severus blinked back at him. It had been eight years since he'd been Bill Weasley's Potions professor, and the decade of age gap the two shared had seemed to be growing smaller and smaller by the day. But there was no denying that he had fallen back on some of his old tendencies today. Vulnerability did not sit well with Severus. Perhaps it was good that he was not around Harry today. He was having inordinate difficulty keeping hold of his acerbic attitude. He would have to apologize to Bill. He hated apologizing. It wasn't something he did a year ago. But now was not the time.
Dimly, he noticed as Bill reached out and pulled Severus's arm closer to him and waved his wand above it. A series of runes appeared above its surface. Bill conjured a parchment and quill and began writing them down.
Severus observed all this through hooded eyes and a scowl. He placed his usual mask on his face as he turned his focus inward. If this would take a while, then he should spend some time ordering his thoughts.
Begin with the most urgent first.
Amputation was not an option. Not for Severus, anyway. Potion-making was too important to him. Not only was it his job, but the methodical nature brought him peace. He appreciated things that were systematic and orderly, of which potions was certainly one.
If he did not choose amputation, however, there was a distinct possibility that he would pose an inordinate risk to Harry. If Bill could not remove the mark in a timely manner, Harry would be left unguarded (Severus hesitated to use the term defenseless, even in his own mind) at their home. The house was protected by the best wards, but that wasn't the real problem. If Severus didn't return home in a reasonable amount of time, he strongly suspected his son would take matters into his own hands, despite the promise he'd made to the contrary. Harry would do anything to protect those he loved. Severus was undeservedly blessed to be counted as one of those. And Harry had become equally important to him in a short time. He would cut his own arm off before he allowed harm to come to the boy, even by the boy's own doing.
But would he? Would he really?
Of course he would. Without a moment's hesitation.
He would put aside his potions. He would put aside his vanity (which, Severus was disgruntled to learn, was actually a factor in this decision. He'd thought he was beyond such drivel.). He would put aside inconvenience.
Of course he would.
For his son's safety, he would do anything.
Like bricks in a wall, his thoughts slotted into place, but before the dust settled, another brick appeared. Heavy. Cracked. Dusty. It was a thought he'd buried for so long that it was hardly recognizable. But Severus knew it. He'd seen it recently, but only briefly–when he'd stepped in front of the curse meant for his son.
That action was instinctive. It was a sort of primal reaction that required no forethought, no planning, no deliberation. He simply did it. But this–this idea of willfully, irrevocably changing his life, making this sacrifice, for the sake of his son–this was intentional. And that intentionality stirred something inside him.
He cradled it in his mind, this thought-brick that had served as a foundational stone of his mental walls for nearly two decades. Lily. Precious Lily. The woman who had loved him despite everything, because of everything. But that love had seemed to pale in comparison to the love she had for her son. Severus had never quite understood. Never fully grasped it. For her to give up her life for Harry had always meant, to Severus, that she was choosing Harry over him. That perhaps she didn't love him as much as she had said she did. And this thought plagued him and filled him with guilt, because no grown man should be jealous of an infant for receiving the love of its mother. So, he buried it. Tried to get rid of it. But, though he had chipped away at it over the years, the thought persisted. It remained. It refused to be excised.
Even now, even after, after brutal torture, emotional upheaval, a new home, Harry Snape, after everything, he still felt jealous of his son.
But he was wrong. Very wrong. And now, finally, in this moment, he understood. Lily's protection of Harry wasn't her choosing Harry over Severus. It wasn't her loving one more than the other. It never had been. Yes, choosing to die to protect Harry had meant that she forfeited any life she could have had with Severus, but what life would it have been? Harry was a fully grown, adult wizard, who had proven himself capable of defending himself several times over, and, yet, Severus was willing to knowingly, with forethought, cut off his own arm if it meant keeping him safe. How much more would he willingly have given for a defenseless baby?
Everything. He would have given everything. Even if it meant never seeing Lily again. And if he hadn't? If he had been faced with the choice she was given and had chosen the other path? He knew where that thought led, and he refused to follow it.
That thought-brick made of jealousy and guilt, beaten and abused and hidden away for so long, finally crumbled to dust. A new brick took its place–one made of pride and acceptance and love. And his wall stood all the stronger for it.
His thoughts no longer spiraled. His mental walls were rebuilt. The emotional upheaval of the last few days had finally been sorted. He felt himself again.
He blinked to refocus his vision. As often happened when he was in the midst of a mental fortification, he was unsure how much time had passed. What seemed to happen in an instant in his head could take hours, and what seemed to take hours could happen in a handful of minutes. Time was truly meaningless, though the stiffness in his joints told him that it had not been an insignificant amount of time.
His arm was now surrounded by a cocoon of indigo lines and Bill had several sheets of parchment covered in arithmancy calculations and runes that Severus couldn't even begin to decipher. He returned his gaze to the swirling lines. They spiraled around his forearm from wrist to elbow in delicate patterns. Bill was twirling his fang earring in one hand as he scrutinized the work in front of him, shuffling some papers around and squinting down at them. He sat up suddenly and flicked his wand at Severus's arm. The indigo lines shifted to emerald green and moved more rapidly. Bill flicked his wand again and they turned pale blue and became languid. He crossed out a line on the parchment and scribbled another below it. Severus leaned back and stared at the featureless ceiling.
The work continued in this way for a couple of hours–Bill alternately trying some spell or another, making notes. Severus had spent his time tracing mineral veins in the marble and estimating which was longest. He jumped in his seat as Bill slammed his hand on the table and cursed. He stood up and walked the length of the room and back several times, muttering to himself, hands on his head. Strands of red hair had fallen loose from the leather tie and now hung in his face.
"Shall I begin pinning the sleeves of my robes now, or after you've worn a hole in the floor?" Severus inquired with a drawl.
Bill dropped his hands back to his sides.
"We aren't to that point, yet. It's just this location spell. Actually, most of this is rather straightforward, if you know what you're looking for. There's a surface level jinx that will be pretty painful if you try to remove the mark yourself, but it's pretty much straight out of the curse breaking handbook, so I won't have trouble getting rid of that, even if it is a bit time-consuming. The mark itself is just a slight twist on a livestock branding spell, which is easily dealt with. The compulsion bit would probably have tripped up a lot of curse breakers, because it's actually a version of old hedge magic that's mostly only used in traditional Druidic circles, which most people wouldn't know about. But I got dragon pox two months into curse breaker training and I had to stay at Aunt Muriel's so I wouldn't infect the younger kids at Mum's, and she dabbles–well, a bit more than dabbles, actually–in that sort of thing and had books on it, and everything. So, I–"
"Is there a point in all this?"
Bill sighed and resumed his pacing.
"Sorry. Yes. I'm frustrated. Makes me talk too much. Basically, I could dismantle the whole thing inside an hour, except for the location spell. I can see that it's there, but I can't detect how it's linked. I know what I'd normally do in this situation, but this is your arm we're talking about. You're not a canopic jar or a tiara. Most of my cursed objects aren't alive. I'm a bit out of my depth."
"What would you do in this situation if it were not my arm we were discussing?"
"The best way to evaluate a known curse with an unknown link is to activate the curse. This usually involves placing the object in a warded room, such as this one, tripping the curse, and observing the magic from a safe distance. That wall over there can be spelled to be transparent and there's a room beyond it for just such a purpose. In your case, activating the mark causes you great pain. Furthermore, it is controlled by You-Know-Who. We have no way of tripping it ourselves."
"That is not entirely accurate, but it does not come without considerable risk."
"What sort of risk?"
"In emergencies, Death Eaters can press the Dark Mark to summon the Dark Lord. Typically, he will then apparate to that Death Eater's location or send another. In either case, he would presumably have to activate the location component of the curse, either to summon a Death Eater to his side, or to appear at the side of a Death Eater. Could the same spell be used for both purposes?"
"It would have to be the same spell. There's only one location component to this curse. It must work reciprocally."
"Then, the risk is that the Dark Lord will know our precise location instantly and will know who has summoned him. He will suspect a trap, but he is too eager to capture me to pass up the opportunity. How quickly could you unravel the Mark after it is activated?"
"I'd need, conservatively, fifteen minutes, but it might not be a pleasant experience. With a half hour I could do it painlessly, but it might leave a scar. Forty-five minutes would give you a perfect removal–no pain, no scar. I told you, once you know the spells used, they're actually deceptively simple."
"I am no stranger to pain and care nothing about scars. Use your fastest methods. How secure is this room?"
"Very. We're several levels below the bank and this room is warded to the teeth. Hogwarts-level, at least."
"Can you apparate in or out?"
"The nearest apparation point is the vestibule where we arrived, and it's only accessible for inbound travel to authorized Gringotts curse-breakers. There's an employee floo two levels up, but it requires a password. General public has to use the main Diagon entrance, the patron floo, or the lobby apparation point. Are we really doing this?"
"Can you see another way?"
"Not a good one. But I have to pop back to Grimmauld first and get Apolline. I'd like her to monitor your health while I dismantle the curse, just in case something comes up."
"You will be putting her in danger."
"I know that, but I don't have much other choice. I won't do this without a trained healer on site, and she's, honestly, the best one I know. I've worked with her on sites before and have seen her treat some pretty gruesome stuff and tangle with her share of dangerous magic. She can handle herself."
"Do what you must, then."
"Wait here."
Bill returned less than 5 minutes later, his new mother-in-law in tow.
"Monsieur Snape," she greeted.
He tipped his head in her direction as another ebony seat materialized out of thin air and she took a seat next to him.
"All right. Well, I guess I'll get started, then. I'll dismantle as much as I can before we activate the mark. Apolline, if you could monitor his vitals and keep an eye on his magical core, let me know if anything seems off. Severus, I won't lie, this will probably hurt. I'll do my best. Anything else I should know before we start."
"I apologize for snapping at you earlier."
Bill shrugged.
"It's been a hell of a few days," he said. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pointed his wand at Severus's arm.
At first, it seemed as if nothing was happening. Bill was chanting rhythmically, but there appeared to be no noticeable effect. Severus was concerned that it wasn't going to work. Bill had explicitly stated that it would be painful.
No sooner had he finished that thought then pain erupted along his forearm. It came on so suddenly that he could not contain his cry. The serpent moved with an aggression that Severus had yet to witness, but he couldn't observe it for long as his eyes welled almost immediately with tears. Madame Delacour's wand waved as she cast a pain-numbing spell. It could not stop the pain completely, but it did take the edge off of it so that Severus could bear it.
Bill continued chanting, waving his wand in complex patterns. If this is what Bill considered simple, he'd hate to see what the man called complex. Suddenly, Bill flicked his wand up to the ceiling and a trail of runes followed its path and floated through the rock. He breathed deeply and began tracing a pattern around the mark with his wand as he started a new chant. It appeared that he'd conquered the first spell.
The second took longer than the first, but was less painful. When Bill again flung his wand upwards, this time trailing a swirl of purple and silver vapor through the rock, he followed it with his eyes and then sat back in his chair.
"Easy part's done," he declared, before inquiring about Severus's health.
"Vitals are stable," Apolline answered. "Only nominal core changes."
"How are you handling the pain?" Bill asked him.
"I believe there are several phials of pain relief potion awaiting me at home."
"Understood. I've dealt with the livestock branding spell and the pain jinx. There should be significantly less pain moving forward. I'm going to start on the compulsion charm now. This will be the most time consuming and will be the last I can do before activating the mark. Apolline, it's also the most likely to affect his magical core. Ready?"
The mark was no longer visible, but Severus could still feel the magic of it, crawling beneath his skin. He was ready for it to be gone. Severus and Madame Delacour both indicated their assent and Bill once again pointed his wand at Severus's arm.
Bill was right. This hurt far less now that the pain jinx had been removed. There was still some discomfort, but Severus was easily able to push it to the back of his mind. He was fascinated by the process of curse breaking. It was never a profession he'd envisioned for himself, but he could appreciate the skill and talent required to undertake such a task. He supposed it would also be a fairly exciting career–traveling the globe, encountering strange and dangerous magic that provided a continually changing atmosphere. Thrilling, to be sure, and not entirely dissimilar from the higher levels of experimental potion brewing (or the near-constant danger of mixing volatile ingredients with easily distracted adolescents), but Severus disliked the idea of being constantly on guard. He'd had quite enough of that in his life already, and he suspected he had quite a bit more to come as the father of the most hazard-prone wizard in the country.
He hoped that Harry had been able to maintain his patience. He had impressed upon him the seriousness of not running off half-cocked, but it would be difficult to recondition the boy after six years of quasi-vigilantism. Still, he believed that he had not been away long enough for Harry to truly panic. He was sure the boy was still–
Bill's chanting broke off into a string of colorful curses as Severus seemed to choke on his breath. His vision went white and blinding pain rippled from his left arm to fill every corner of his body. He heard Madame Delacour incant the pain-relieving spell again, but it did nothing. He was struck by a sudden awareness, a certainty that he could feel in his very bones. He feared it more than the pain.
He was coming.
"What did you do?" Severus grunted. Bill had pushed his chair back and now stood bent over Severus's wrist, his wand flying and sweat dripping down his forehead as he fought the spell.
"Bill!" Madame Delacour cried. "The magic is interacting with–"
Bill cut her off as he cursed again and met Severus's eyes.
"I'm not finished with this compulsion spell and it's tied more closely to your core than I had anticipated. I need more time. A lot of it. But I don't have it, do I?"
Severus shook his head infinitesimally. The movement made white spots dance in his eyes.
"He knows. He's coming," he croaked.
"The wards will slow him down, but I don't think–I can't–it's…it's not going be enough. We can leave now and try again another day, but I can't make any promises about how long…"
Severus didn't hear the rest. He blinked hard. So, it had come to this after all. Of course it had. But it was as he had thought. There was no choice. Not really. Not when Harry's safety was on the line.
An arm for Harry's life. So be it.
"Do it," he whispered, interrupting Bill who was still talking, spouting theories and alternatives, but Severus knew. There was no alternative. Realistically, they weren't going to get another shot at this. It was now or never. He met Bill's eyes with determination. Bill nodded, resigned, but resolute.
He looked at Madame Delacour and spoke in rapid, confident French. She nodded and gripped Severus's arm just above his elbow. The pain still coursing through his body made her touch feel like sandpaper.
"It will be quick, but it will hurt," she said.
"Can't get much worse," he muttered, but even he knew it was all bravado.
She stretched his arm out and cast a wordless spell. The sleeve of his robe fell away and a sickly green glow covered his entire forearm and spread across his wrist and hand. A few tendrils just touched the inside of his elbow. She waved her wand and he felt the pressure of an invisible tourniquet wrap itself around his arm above his elbow, well above the green glow that indicated the cursed area. She traced her wand around his arm just beneath the tourniquet, leaving a thin black line. As the two points came together, she said her spell, "Abscisus," and Severus's world went black.