Darkness
by Iejasu
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian.
Chapter 7 - Preparations
Snape changed his tactics concerning his apprentice. He allowed her to sleep
without the shackles after a few weeks of lessons, but he kept various
awards up all the time, so he would know if she surpassed his orders.
He still slept on the couch in his laboratory, as he had done for years.
Snape knew he looked scruffy and that he was lacking personal hygiene, but he
rarely cared enough to be bothered. But now he had to make the effort in
order to put his plan into action.
Cat watched him silently as he walked into his bathroom, stripped and tossed
the clothes into a corner. His pale body was covered with a slight sheen of
long dried perspiration and a lot of unpleasant scars and marks from old injuries.
She walked behind him, unsure if her presence was appreciated. He seemed either
completely ignorant to her presence or chose to ignore her. She supposed the latter.
Cat and watched him filling the large tub and stepping into the scalding hot water.
Hesitantly she grabbed a cloth, silently asking him for permission to assist. He nodded in
acceptance and she started to clean him up. His body was not lean, it was emaciated.
He studied her though his half closed eyes, as if she was a student who had drunken
an unknown potion. She could see black spots on his arms and legs, where the
hypodermic needle had marked his flesh. Cats realisation came sudden even though the
insight was carefully concealed.
He was dying. Slowly, coldly and without a single wail, the life escaped his body like
a shadow vanishing at noon.
Cat was not his apprentice, she was his testament. A testament written in flesh
and blood.
Snape felt her hands on his skin. It was a strangely solemn moment. One day she
would outstrip him, leave him behind. She would take his place and let him rest.
Maybe she would even honour him by caring for his corpse and holding the death-watch.
He smiled at that thought.
In a whim he held her wrist for a second, keeping her from continuing her actions.
"It is the way things have to be", he murmured placidly.
"I know, Professor." She answered in the same dreamlike voice.
****
He took clean robes from the wardrobe, and dressed with great care. Even his hair
shone like it had never done during his teaching days. Cat could see that he must
have been a striking man in his youth, or would have been, if he would have had
ever allowed the chance. Not beautiful, but striking. But the years of torture had
ripped it from his body and from his soul, leaving behind a shadow of what once
might have been.
He took a wand and cast a glamourie charm on himself, changing his appearance to a
younger self, only his eyes remained the same. Empty, hollow and without light.
Eyes that had witnessed too much.
"Cat, you will stay here, you will guard the property and remain invisible. Is
that clear? Everything depends your action. If anybody becomes aware of your
presence, we are as good as dead and everything has failed." His black eyes
fixed on hers and all she could do was nod in acknowledgement and remain silent.
Yes, he depended on her, she would not fail him.
*****
Snape left the ruins to seek the target he needed. And he was aware that it would
take some time. And he could not lock her in for more than three days. Also there
he had to demonstrate his trust in her loyalty. This demonstration was necessary
for her utilisation. It was dangerous, but he had no choice. He could ask nobody
for assistance, certainly not Potter and his idiots.
Cat stared at the cupboard, shivering slightly. He trusted her. She would not fail him.
*****
"How is Fred?" Harry's inquiry sounded more tired than inquisitive. Since
the raid on the Pettigrew Manor, violence had escalated.
They had forged a small victory, but they had also paid for it.
Malfoy had declared that for every pureblood wizard killed, five half-bloods or
ten mudbloods would be executed.
They had labour camps where those muggle born where held. Terrible places that
reeked of death.
Every wizard had to produce a parchment, stating his ancestors for at least five
generations. Most mixed bloods where allowed to be useful but those whose loyalties
where in question, had been sent to the camps as well.
The muggle bloods never had a chance.
Forged papers showing a "clean" family tree where in high demand and drove quite
some families into ruin. But better poor than dead, was the motto of these days.
Families that had allowed a mudblood to marry into it, disowned their children or
parents, who had committed such an abomination. Otherwise the whole family would have
been endangered. Sometimes a quick divorce from the mudblood followed by a large
bribe to the right address could solve the problem.
And those who actually had been involved with a muggle, could only flee or show
some kind of penance, hoping that the Dark Lord and Malfoy would kindly allow them
to continue breathing. Many hoped in vain.
But Harry faced more severe problems.
To a large majority he was not popular anymore. Only those who had already lost
everything and had gone into hiding, firmly believed in him. To those who had
found an uneasy stance in this new wizarding community, everything that endangered
this "peace" was an enemy.
Each action of Potter and the resistance endangered every half blood family
that had managed to be tolerated.
Ron often swore and called those "tolerated" wizards 'cowards', but sometimes Harry
was not sure if he would not do exactly the same if given a choice. Not that he
ever had a choice.
It was so much easier just to cower, shut up, bribe the right ones..... and to
hope for better times.
That was the same course of action, Malfoy and the others counted on. And their
strategy worked out.
You can ask a person about right or wrong only after you have fed them. Starving,
hopeless people will not often muse about such philosophical issues when their life is
at stake.
Ron sat next to the bed of a terribly pale Fred Weasley and shrugged. Harry could see
that his hands were trembling. He must have spent every spare second of the last few
weeks at the side of his older brother.
"Not good. Something is wrong and Poppy thinks that there was something else involved.
They probably worked with some kind of 'poison'. The transfusion went fine, but
he is not getting better. He runs a very high temperature."
Harry's shoulders slumped. He could see the pleading for his brothers life in Ron's eyes.
He had to do something...anything. If not, he would loose the faith of his
last 'true' friend.
Harry went off to go to the only man that could provide help. The only potion
master left in England skilled enough to produce advanced healing potions and
loyal enough to 'hopefully' comply.
He went to Severus Snape.
TBC....
by Iejasu
Many thanks to my proofreader Llarian.
Chapter 7 - Preparations
Snape changed his tactics concerning his apprentice. He allowed her to sleep
without the shackles after a few weeks of lessons, but he kept various
awards up all the time, so he would know if she surpassed his orders.
He still slept on the couch in his laboratory, as he had done for years.
Snape knew he looked scruffy and that he was lacking personal hygiene, but he
rarely cared enough to be bothered. But now he had to make the effort in
order to put his plan into action.
Cat watched him silently as he walked into his bathroom, stripped and tossed
the clothes into a corner. His pale body was covered with a slight sheen of
long dried perspiration and a lot of unpleasant scars and marks from old injuries.
She walked behind him, unsure if her presence was appreciated. He seemed either
completely ignorant to her presence or chose to ignore her. She supposed the latter.
Cat and watched him filling the large tub and stepping into the scalding hot water.
Hesitantly she grabbed a cloth, silently asking him for permission to assist. He nodded in
acceptance and she started to clean him up. His body was not lean, it was emaciated.
He studied her though his half closed eyes, as if she was a student who had drunken
an unknown potion. She could see black spots on his arms and legs, where the
hypodermic needle had marked his flesh. Cats realisation came sudden even though the
insight was carefully concealed.
He was dying. Slowly, coldly and without a single wail, the life escaped his body like
a shadow vanishing at noon.
Cat was not his apprentice, she was his testament. A testament written in flesh
and blood.
Snape felt her hands on his skin. It was a strangely solemn moment. One day she
would outstrip him, leave him behind. She would take his place and let him rest.
Maybe she would even honour him by caring for his corpse and holding the death-watch.
He smiled at that thought.
In a whim he held her wrist for a second, keeping her from continuing her actions.
"It is the way things have to be", he murmured placidly.
"I know, Professor." She answered in the same dreamlike voice.
****
He took clean robes from the wardrobe, and dressed with great care. Even his hair
shone like it had never done during his teaching days. Cat could see that he must
have been a striking man in his youth, or would have been, if he would have had
ever allowed the chance. Not beautiful, but striking. But the years of torture had
ripped it from his body and from his soul, leaving behind a shadow of what once
might have been.
He took a wand and cast a glamourie charm on himself, changing his appearance to a
younger self, only his eyes remained the same. Empty, hollow and without light.
Eyes that had witnessed too much.
"Cat, you will stay here, you will guard the property and remain invisible. Is
that clear? Everything depends your action. If anybody becomes aware of your
presence, we are as good as dead and everything has failed." His black eyes
fixed on hers and all she could do was nod in acknowledgement and remain silent.
Yes, he depended on her, she would not fail him.
*****
Snape left the ruins to seek the target he needed. And he was aware that it would
take some time. And he could not lock her in for more than three days. Also there
he had to demonstrate his trust in her loyalty. This demonstration was necessary
for her utilisation. It was dangerous, but he had no choice. He could ask nobody
for assistance, certainly not Potter and his idiots.
Cat stared at the cupboard, shivering slightly. He trusted her. She would not fail him.
*****
"How is Fred?" Harry's inquiry sounded more tired than inquisitive. Since
the raid on the Pettigrew Manor, violence had escalated.
They had forged a small victory, but they had also paid for it.
Malfoy had declared that for every pureblood wizard killed, five half-bloods or
ten mudbloods would be executed.
They had labour camps where those muggle born where held. Terrible places that
reeked of death.
Every wizard had to produce a parchment, stating his ancestors for at least five
generations. Most mixed bloods where allowed to be useful but those whose loyalties
where in question, had been sent to the camps as well.
The muggle bloods never had a chance.
Forged papers showing a "clean" family tree where in high demand and drove quite
some families into ruin. But better poor than dead, was the motto of these days.
Families that had allowed a mudblood to marry into it, disowned their children or
parents, who had committed such an abomination. Otherwise the whole family would have
been endangered. Sometimes a quick divorce from the mudblood followed by a large
bribe to the right address could solve the problem.
And those who actually had been involved with a muggle, could only flee or show
some kind of penance, hoping that the Dark Lord and Malfoy would kindly allow them
to continue breathing. Many hoped in vain.
But Harry faced more severe problems.
To a large majority he was not popular anymore. Only those who had already lost
everything and had gone into hiding, firmly believed in him. To those who had
found an uneasy stance in this new wizarding community, everything that endangered
this "peace" was an enemy.
Each action of Potter and the resistance endangered every half blood family
that had managed to be tolerated.
Ron often swore and called those "tolerated" wizards 'cowards', but sometimes Harry
was not sure if he would not do exactly the same if given a choice. Not that he
ever had a choice.
It was so much easier just to cower, shut up, bribe the right ones..... and to
hope for better times.
That was the same course of action, Malfoy and the others counted on. And their
strategy worked out.
You can ask a person about right or wrong only after you have fed them. Starving,
hopeless people will not often muse about such philosophical issues when their life is
at stake.
Ron sat next to the bed of a terribly pale Fred Weasley and shrugged. Harry could see
that his hands were trembling. He must have spent every spare second of the last few
weeks at the side of his older brother.
"Not good. Something is wrong and Poppy thinks that there was something else involved.
They probably worked with some kind of 'poison'. The transfusion went fine, but
he is not getting better. He runs a very high temperature."
Harry's shoulders slumped. He could see the pleading for his brothers life in Ron's eyes.
He had to do something...anything. If not, he would loose the faith of his
last 'true' friend.
Harry went off to go to the only man that could provide help. The only potion
master left in England skilled enough to produce advanced healing potions and
loyal enough to 'hopefully' comply.
He went to Severus Snape.
TBC....