Big thanks to Gina Starr, who was the only person who reviewed last chapter. Have I scared the rest of you off with my weirdness?

Chapter 15 – Slytherin Redemption

Severus focused on the potion he was brewing, concentrating on it as hard as he could to at least momentarily banish the day's images from his mind. His head was still throbbing from the headache caused by the tension of the afternoon's meeting. Mundungus Fletcher was being his usual obnoxious self. Arthur Weasley, though still the foolish man with a childish affection for Muggles, Severus had at least built up some sort of respect for – but the twin sights of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, close as brothers, sitting at ease in the staffroom, seemed to tear up any sort of moral high ground he had once thought he had.

When Voldemort returned, Severus had indeed realised that Black was – well, not innocent, the idea was ludicrous – but not guilty of the multitude of crimes for which he had been sent to Azkaban. It had never really hit home until Black and Lupin were talking idly, friends who knew each other inside out, and the strength of Severus's denial had been shattered with nauseating efficiency. Sirius Black, he was forced to admit, was not a monster. Over the years, he had nursed the idea that he had not fallen so hard, he had not been as terrible as Black had. But it wasn't true. Peter Pettigrew was a pathetic wretch, true, but the extent of his fawning robbed him of any sense of humanity he might have had. Pettigrew was a coward. Any trace of that old Gryffindor courage had long since vanished.But Severus didn't want to think himself better than Peter Pettigrew – he wanted to think himself better than Black. Black, who had belittled him, and ostracised him – and tried to kill him. Never mind any belated apologies – he wanted to think that James would have been sorry to always take Sirius's side. He wished he could prove to James that Sirius Black was a psychopathic killer. That Sirius Black had driven him over the edge.

Yet Severus had to admit the fact that, even now, he had to return to kiss Voldemort's hem was not due to Sirius Black. The Sorting Hat had always known him for a Slytherin – and yes, he had always envied the power the Slytherins had. He was not taken over with the beast as Lupin was, not even mistakenly lashing out against a wrongdoing, as Black had when he had mistakenly took Severus for the betrayer – even if it had only been an issue of a personal pride. Severus knew with the greatest clarity that he had no excuses.

*

It was nearly the end of term. Hogwarts was more melancholy than it had ever been – the Dark Lord was back, the infant saviour of the wizarding world loped around as if he'd lost the will to live, and Severus was muddled between the quiet world of denial and the demanding yet satisfying world of purpose. He hated Harry Potter for taking his purpose away, for rendering him but a poor leftover from the war, a criminal to be accomodated. As a spy, he had purpose. But Harry Potter, damn him, was also partly the reason that he had that role again, that hated role, that fearful role. It wasn't fair to blame him, of course, but the boy's scarred forehead was a symbol of the resistance. And he hated it.

He came into the staff room thinking to just read any important notices and then leave. His attention was caught by Lupin, now not accompanied by the accursed Black, conversing animatedly with a woman he didn't recognise. The woman's eyes seemed to be flickering over at him, periodically.

"I don't know what I can do," she was saying. "I feel like a bit of a traitor for missing the worse parts of his last reign. Well, I say worst, but Greentrees was awful – horrifying. I can hardly think of anything more terrible. I ran away to Africa like it didn't affect me. It makes me feel awful. When I got your owl – I had to come. Dumbledore thanked me but I haven't a clue what I can do. This time, I can't just sit by. Who knows, maybe Africa won't even be safe if…"

He knew that voice. He knew it… and the tone, it was so familiar…

"I know," Lupin said. "I sometimes wonder what use Dumbledore has for a werewolf with a long history of unemployment… But even if we only have a little, we must all do our best."

"Why is it called the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Well, it's a code name. Many of our members have to work in secret – because of Fudge, you know. He would block anyone he suspected of being involved out of the Ministry. Sirius said he would rather believe that Harry is mentally disturbed. And the phoenix – well, it's a name we all associate with Dumbledore, and the phoenix is a rather appropriate animal. Its tears have healing powers – we hope that our sadness will turn to action – healing. It can carry heavy loads – fighting against Voldemort is a pretty big burden, don't you think? And it can rise again from the ashes. We may not be phoenixes, but we can dream."

She smiled. Then her eyes flickered again to Severus. He stopped, and gave her the now perfected version of the death glare. She looked at him curiously.

"You don't look well," she said at last. It was a strange greeting, although somewhat reminiscent of something. Lupin looked from her to Severus, appearing somewhat at a loss.

"Mandy Farrell?" he finally said. She was apparently another one in the steady train of people who had arrived at Hogwarts to pledge their allegiance to the Order.

"Severus Snape," she acknowledged, giving him perhaps the coldest look she had ever given him, and yet still, he could see a hint of – pity? Her eyes seemed softer than her expression.

"So you're joining the Order," he said, for lack of anything else to say. "Good. I expect I may see you at meetings." His tone was brisk, abrupt, but he couldn't work out why this unwelcome reminder of his school years seemed to open an old wound, an mysterious sense of loss.

He turned, and strode out. It was his usual abrupt exit, but something quickened his steps, some anxiety pushed him forward and away.

*

She turned up again later. He was restoring his Veritaserum supply – ah, what memories that brought back. McKenzie had vastly improved it, and yet he knew he had perfected it. It was his passion and his nemesis. She stood at the door, so shyly that for a moment he mistook her for a student, until she spoke his given name. He turned around. "What do you want?" He was being unnecessarily hostile. But he didn't want to talk to her. Not to display his entrails, to see her disdain as she saw what he had become.

"I just wanted to… talk."

"Why don't you talk with Lupin?"

"I want to talk to you."

"For Rowena's sake, why?" He flinched as he realised that, for some reason, he'd used an old Ravenclaw oath. The sight of her had brought back those memories. Her eyebrows quirked, and she half-smiled, amused by his slip-up. He continued. "I'm sure you've heard everything from Lupin."

"I've heard what Remus thinks. But I – you were my friend. You always kept my secrets – you know the ones. I wanted to…"

"Re-kindle our friendship? Have a few cosy chats? Play chess?" Severus spat. If she was going to leaving hating him, he wanted to get it over with. "I am not the same person, anymore. Perhaps I was never the person you thought I was. I am the least popular teacher in this school – except among Slytherins, naturally. I am a Death Eater who left out of fear. I doubt my remaining respect for the cat is really enough common ground to base a friendship."

She was silent for a moment. For a second she looked broken, hurt – but then she straightened up, appearing resolute, and decided to peruse his book collection. She stopped when she found what she was apparently looking for and laughed out loud.

"You bought it! Not exactly Newt Scamander, but you bought it!"

She pulled out a slim volume with the title Studies of African Magical Fauna by Amanda K. Farrell. Severus found himself becoming enraged at this unfair advantage she had discovered.

"I did not buy that for sentimental reasons. African magical creatures can be vital for certain potions ingredients…"

"Do you know, I think that's even more of a compliment."

What was wrong with the woman? Earlier she had attempted to match the death glare, now she was acting like she wanted to be best friends.

"It is a good book," he said loftily. "But it would be a good book if someone else had written it."

The same look of pity appeared, now covering her entire face. "What happened to you, Severus? I remember you being so gentle…"

"I was not gentle, I was afraid."

"You seem fairly afraid now."

He spoke over her words. "According to the Sorting Hat, I would have been in Slytherin from the start were it not for my foolish fears. When the Dark Lord…" That was a sentence he hadn't meant to start. But he followed it through. "When – when I bowed to him for the first time, my fears went. Do you know what I did when I was no longer afraid? All sorts of terrible things. I am truly Slytherin – not the Ravenclaw you thought you knew…"

"Not a Ravenclaw, for Rowena's sake," she interjected.

Brutally, he continued. "Remember that curse the elder Mr. Malfoy placed on your mother? I used something similar to my own ends."

She turned pale, and looked shaken. He'd gotten to her. She would leave soon, and take her train of unwanted memories with her. "Who was it?"

"Olivia."

The colour returned, she laughed bitterly, and he stared at her in surprise.

"You complete dunderhead. Didn't you realise – didn't you…"

"I didn't realise whatever sentimental statement you're going to come up with next," he said, but she waved her hand. "Olivia – oh Olivia, I was curious about the whole Graduation Ball thing and she was talking to her friend on the Hogwarts Express. Her friend said something like, 'So how was it, dancing with the glorious Severus, after waiting for him to make the first move? I'm astonished that he managed to ask before you started collecting your pension.' And then she had this funny, sad expression, and she said, 'You're going to think I'm silly but even though I wanted to dance with him so much, I felt so unsafe. Like everything was out of my control. He's strange – he's not who I thought he was…' " Mandy let her words sink in.

The wound was truly fresh now. All that he'd wasted… To think that beautiful and talented girl might have been his had he not been so hungry for power, had he not leeched off the Dark Arts for so long. He could not stand to lose his composure now, but a solitary, rebel tear leaked from one eye.

"Oh Sev," Mandy said, and for a surreal moment he thought, What a silly sounding nickname, why did I ever let people call me that? Everything was shattering afresh. He had spent years hiding from the memories, allowing them to escape in cold words, in measured sarcasm, in anything that did not let these feelings return.

"Why?" she asked. "Why did you do it?"

She had weakened him. Had she planned this? The words spilled out. "I didn't want to be afraid anymore. I wanted to be – bloody, bold, and resolute. And when I first came before him, although I was frightened and repulsed by what I saw, I knew – I wanted it. All of it. Murdered children and tortured Muggleborns faded out of the picture, and all I could see was endless strength, endless power. Control. Life always seemed perilously out of control…" He was talking like a fool. It was as if the words had always been trapped inside, and at the merest breach were now pouring forth like a waterfall that never ends. He had never spoken all these words, to anyone. Now he spoke at length. The first time in front of the Dark Lord – the first Cruciatus curse. Arabella Figg. The burning of the Ministry. She listened, attentive, even thought she was sometimes horrified.

She did not speak.

"So now you see that I am Slytherin, and, indeed, have always been Slytherin. Sirius Black was apparently right about me. I do not have some once a month affliction which renders me a beast; I have no excuse."

Mandy frowned, and then her lips actually curled into a smile. "You're not a Slytherin."

"I beg your pardon, but I believe the evidence suggests otherwise."

"You're a Ravenclaw playing a Slytherin in a school play. You're still hiding from yourself. You're angry and biased and surly, but what happened to Slytherin wiles and ambition? You sit in a dank little dungeon all day."

He found he still had some residual anger protecting the remains of his dignity. "I do not believe you are in a position to judge…"

"Is a Slytherin necessarily bad? Your cunning as a spy was surely Slytherin, and yet you saved lives… Ambition is not a bad thing in itself – it matters more the direction of your ambition…"

Severus did not respond. Even though she now, to some extent, knew more about it than anyone else, he did not want to listen to her preach. She did not know how it felt. Mandy rose from her seat. "Severus – I'm sorry I came in here and started probing. I just wanted to understand."

He nodded. Awkwardly she patted his arm. "Thank you for not throwing me out. I'm sure I will see you at meetings."

"Until then," Severus murmured, and she left.

For a few moments, he felt completely stunned. In the space of an hour, demons had been reawakened, wounds reopened, and yet he suddenly felt calmer. More confused than ever, but he suddenly had the odd feeling that somehow, the answer, whatever answer it was he was searching for, was nearby.

***

A/N – I owe the insight on phoenixes to Bored Beyond Belief's wonderful fic 'Never Alone, Never Again'.

A/N2 – Yes, it's officially AU now, as opposed to slightly skewed :) I figured I'd finish it in GoF era because in this universe, OotP would have had to have happened totally differently anyway.

A/N3 – I would have finished this earlier, but… well, for the reason, read 'The Ballad of Sirius Black'.

A/N4 – Epilogue still to come.