Unleashed Shadows : Chapter 10
Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own Harry Potter or any related characters, including Severus Snape.
Author's Notes: Not much to say, except to please tell me if anything in this story doesn't make sense, or is wrong in any way. This is a WIP, I don't have a BETA and I'm not perfect, so I'd love any help anyone can give. Thanks.
OKAY, OKAY, I KNOW… So, I guess enough people have told me this story's been going VERY slow, and it's finally gone through my think skull. So…
THIS IS THE CHAPTER!! Yes, the time has finally come… Snape's going to tell Harry. Oh joy… Another note is that this chapter is pretty long, as I had to go through A LOT to make up for suddenness of this chapter. So please don't flame about that problem, I did the best I could. Be proud of me.
***
H. Potter's POV
I closed my eyes and tried to forget, but I couldn't. I opened them again and my hands were trembling as I picked up my glasses from the table. I looked to my left and saw that Ron was asleep. I looked to my right and the hourglass said it was only five in the morning.
I felt like screaming.
The nightmares hadn't been happening since the end of Fourth Year, and even then, they had been about the TriWizard Tournament. And Cedric. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, half-expecting to see gravestones, blood-red eyes and Cedric on the ground. Instead, I would be staring at the carpet, in my bedroom in Privet Drive.
Voldermort killed Cedric. He killed my parents. And he's been wanting to kill me for as long as I've lived. Ever since I became The-Boy-Who-Lived, ever since his spell backfired. And every time I face Voldermort, ever since second year, I've been met with rage and hatred – not just fear. Maybe it was because I saw what happened to Ginny. Maybe it helped me realize that the people he hurts, or kills, have families and brothers and friends. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was when he taunted me with my mum and dad. He said they were brave too, and that they had died because of that bravery…
I wanted to hurt him. No, not just a curse that caused a fast, painless death. I wanted to make him feel… to let him experience every Unforgivable he had ever cast on another… every death…every little bit of pain…
That's when I ask myself that question. The one that sends me into issues of morality and rightness. Do I want revenge, or justice? And then, after, I ask myself a question that should have been answered three years ago. The Sorting Hat… Dumbledore said it was choices that got me where I was, in Gryffindor. But just how much did I know then? What would have happened if I had met Draco Malfoy first instead of Ron on the train? And now, when I think about what I want to do…the emotions running through me…my instincts when it comes to Voldermort…
I'm not sure anymore. Not about being in Slytherin, not about being ruthless, not about anything…
***
S. Snape's POV
I woke up in a bad mood. More so than usual. But through dim light and my unfocused mind, I had a feeling I knew why. The Dreamless Sleep Potion didn't take effect last night, and the results were something I would've rather forgotten.
I had dreamt of her. It was only a matter of time, but I would've given anything to not face it. And if hiding away from it was the only way, then hide I shall. But no one can hide forever. Not even one who dresses in shadow and cloak and whose closest friends were an annoying old wizard and a part-werewolf.
And so this dream of sorts, was inevitable. And it made me realize something I had forgotten, or perhaps had purposely put off, for fifteen years.
"Albus." The old wizard. He would know what to do.
I threw a black robe on, and practically ran out the portrait hole. Several students ran across my path, and I didn't even stop to take off housepoints. Climbing the stairs from the dun –
What was I doing?
Shaking my head, I retraced my steps and entered my room again. Salazar wasn't the faintest bit happy, but then again, neither was I. 'You're going to lose it one day,' A slight voice said to me.
I told myself to shut up as I reached inside the old jar. My hand emerged a second later along with a handful of Floo Powder, and I stepped into the fireplace and threw the contents onto the ground as I called for the Headmaster's Office.
I stepped forward, and a hand reached out, handing me a cup of black coffee.
"Thanks," I coughed, as I breathed in the remainder of the smoke and soot.
"Not a problem," the Headmaster answered pleasantly, sitting down at his table. "Made it especially for you. I know how you can't stand to drink white, Severus."
"How did you know I was coming?"
He didn't answer, and instead sipped his own cup of tea. He looked up and I swear, if his eyes twinkled anymore, they could officially be classified stars. But in that few moments, I didn't see merriment or mischief dancing like I usually did, instead, I saw…
"YOU! ALBUS…the Dreamless Sleep Potion… " Perhaps I was choked with rage for words, or perhaps I was somehow thankful that I didn't have to explain myself to Albus. I had told him about Lily, about Harry, in Harry's third year. He was surprised, maybe a little amazed, but I had always though he had suspected something...
"I did what I did, Severus." Albus said carefully, "But now, I guess you have some things to tell me."
I felt like a child, a student who was in trouble and had been sent to the Principal's Office. I didn't like this feeling at all.
"I dreamt of Lily, Albus. And the potion, the potion, Albus. The Reflectage! No one else had known about it at the time. It lasts for years, the reason we used it. Only the Vueclair-dans and the Percevoir would see it, only there wasn't the simple counter. I found it in one of the old books…we thought it would work, as long as the Vueclair and the Perce'v wasn't used…"
Albus held up a hand to slow me down, and my mouth snapped shut. I couldn't believe I had let myself go on like that. The Headmaster's eyes suddenly lost their familiar twinkle and the seriousness of the situation seemed to fill every corner of the huge office.
"No counter, you say?"
I shook my head.
"Then we wait, we wait for it to wear." The old man leaned back and took a sip of white coffee from the pale coffee cup in his hands. "There's nothing I can do for you Severus. And the only thing you can do is tell him. Before, it wears." He added.
"Who? Harry?" I forced a hard laugh. "Albus, this isn't a time to make jokes. The Percevoir can't be made anymore. The last of the Rogue plants have been dead for years. And the Vueclair takes months to prepare…there isn't time, Albus!"
"Severus. Perhaps we should just leave this situation to turn out for itself. Perhaps it would be better, let's say, to let fate run it's course." Then the twinkle in his eyes was back. How could I ever have thought it was gone? "Of course, there's always the thing Minerva and ---"
"No need." I replied shortly, sensing one of his quiet and long reminisces.
Albus sighed deeply, "Severus. Just how long do you believe the Reflectage will last?"
"I don't know. Definitely not fifteen years. Next month the latest. I assume," I added.
"I'll say it again, Severus, there is nothing to do but wait. And in that time, I suggest you inform Harry of the situation. I myself, want little part to play in telling him of your relations."
I almost added, which defeats the whole purpose of the Reflectage, but couldn't even find the strength. How do I tell him? How do I tell him? How the hell do I tell him?
***
"Potter." I spat the boy's undeserving name like a curse. Or perhaps that was going too far.
He stood up. He didn't shake, he didn't tremble, and I knew he wasn't the slightest afraid. And he knew I knew.
"Yes, Professor?" Mild distaste coloring his tone in the same fashion it had colored mine in the last years.
What do I say now? "Professor Dumbledore and I have some, issues, concerning you. We would like to discuss them tonight, preferably in my quarters. You are to meet me here – in the classroom – at seven thirty, after dinner."
Harry nodded and went to sit back down. Already, I could see Weasley and Granger leaning over, no doubt to discuss what I had just told the boy. And everything in between.
"Weasley, Granger, Potter. No talking in my classroom. Unless, of course, you would find cleaning the remainder of the desks today enjoyable."
Merlin. What am I supposed to do? The fact that I've dragged Albus into the situation, despite his telling me of his being non-interfering. And I assure you, the talk with Harry would even be amusing – if it wasn't happening to me. I could imagine it now. It would be like a bloody clique from a bloody muggle film.
'No, Harry, I AM your father…"
***
Night seem to come faster than any other night. Just my luck. And now that Albus has refused to speak to Harry with me, I was waiting in my classroom alone. At least there's a familiarity here, unlike the situation poised in front of me.
Two light knocks came from the other side of the door, and without my reply, it swung gently on its rusted hinges. The boy was wearing his school robes, having most probably run straight from dinner. I myself, did not attend at all.
"Being late becomes a habit, Harry." I had not intended it, yet I had. The quicker it came out the better, the less explaining I had to do. The less painful it had to be.
The boy at the door did a double take. Leaning against the door frame, he looked up confused, perhaps even mildly shocked. Then, he straightened himself up again and walked up to me. I assume that he had just thought he had heard wrong.
"Sorry Professor," he said. No explanations. No excuses.
I motioned for him to sit on the closest chair.
I breathed. "Okay, Harry." (And this time, he did look shocked, but he didn't say anything.) "Al – Professor Dumbledore is not coming and we are having this discussion here. He knows that this situation is between you and me. Now, you have the understand that everything I say is true, and your decision to believe it is (I shrugged slightly), yours alone. Also, (I scowled the probably, infamous, scowl) nothing I say or you hear is to leave this room. Especially not to Weasley or Granger."
Harry nodded, possibly dumbfounded at a situation he did not yet know.
"The reason I am calling you Harry is because it is truly incorrect to call you 'Potter.' You are not the son of James Potter."
Harry opened his mouth the protest, but I continued, and he closed his mouth at my words. I'm not sure I would've believed what he heard, if we had switched places.
"Perhaps you don't realize this is difficult for both of us," I almost added an insult to the end of that, but stopped myself in time. He did not need to be provoked into anger. "I'm going to tell a story, and you will have to put the pieces together."
I breathed again, and I the words flowed easily, easier than I would've guessed.
"I, like you, attended Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was in the same grade as Lily – your mother – and James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. We were, if you were say, enemies, rivals. I was in Slytherin, and most of them, in Gryffindor. But house ties never used to be as important as now, and friendships were found in all houses. Even in Gryffindor and Slytherin."
I paused to see the boy's reaction, but his face remained passive and I could only guess what he thought would happen next.
"The four - Potter, Lupin, Black and Pettigrew – had given themselves the title of The Marauders. And they had become famous around the school, they had given themselves a name. But I, along with Lucius – whom you know as Draco Malfoy's father, somehow found our way into their enemy territory. It started off being only little things, pranks and such, but soon expanded into something bigger. Perhaps it was us six that started house rivalry, but even then, there were people who did not join in. Your mother being one of them.
"Hard as it may be to believe, we had a friendship, and to cut long stories short, many people did not agree with it. Despite this, we (I looked up as I said this, and watched the shocked look register on his face) were even married at one point. Then, as you know, I became a Death Eater, and your mother, I found out afterward, had a child. We separated, she not being able to accept my choice to become a Death Eater, and I not understanding it's… we separated, and she eventually married James, raising our only child as his. We decided that since… because I was… what I was, we had to conceal your true image. A potion, called the Reflectage was used, as it mimics one's image to place on another's. It's what we used on you, and if I'm right, it should have already began to wear. Patches of your true image should break through the Reflectage. It doesn't, shouldn't, last more than fifteen years."
Finally, it was over, and yet there was the slightest feeling that I had spoken wrongly. That I shouldn't have done it. I was ruining the boy's life, I was telling him things he couldn't have imagined when he had stepped into the room almost half an hour ago. This felt… wrong.
His eyes weren't focused, and he seemed to be looking through me for a moment. His face was expressionless, but only for a second. Then, suddenly, a look of anger and defiance replaced it and he stood up fiercely, not caring that the chair scraped noisily in the now bleak room.
"Bull." He exclaimed angrily. "You can't come in here, tell me a story and say that's proof you're my real father. My dad died saving my life, and his name's James Potter." His voice had lowered to an enraged whisper, and he turned surprisingly quiet on his heel and stormed out.
I slumped back into the student chair, suddenly weary with fatigue. He was right of course, about storming in and destroying everything he knew. And knowing that only served by adding to my confusion.
He believes it.
No, he doesn't.
He does. You can see it in his eyes. He's confused, and he doesn't want to believe it. But he does.
I didn't want to think about whether he cared. It would've been better if he didn't. I didn't want to think about what I saw in his eyes…I didn't want to think about Lily. And I didn't want to think about what I was to do after to Reflectage wears off. I didn't want to think or feel or even talk. Especially not to myself.
***
H. Potter's POV
NO! NO! No…
The word repeated soundlessly in my head, like an echo of someone's screams. I wanted to scream, I wanted to make it all go away. Maybe it was all a dream, another nightmare. One of those that I could forget, or at least pretend to forget. Maybe…
Except for one thing. It was real. It was true. All of it. I know I can pretend it isn't – wasn't, that maybe I could go back to being Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the boy who looks so remarkably like his father. But then, now, I'll always know why. Because I've got a potion, or a spell, or something, that was supposed to make me look like him. That I've got, I've had, a mask on all my life. That I'm someone completely different.
Did I want this? No. I don't want to live my life not knowing who I am, or what family I belong to. Or whether my name is still Harry Potter. And yet… did I want to continue living this lie, where I'm an orphan, where I didn't have a father at the age of two, where my father was James Potter. Where my name is Harry Potter. But it isn't. It's Harry Snape. How can that be? Like what, after fifteen years, he can come out and say a few words to make me feel better for fifteen years of nothing? I wasn't going to accept that. I'm never going to accept that.
I don't know why, but I start to laugh, almost uncontrollably. The idea is so ridiculous. Snape. Professor Snape is my dad!…
You've gone mad
I've got a dad that's alive…and he's Professor Snape! That's so ridiculous, it's almost funny… almost.
Yep. Definitely mad.
Shut up! I seriously don't know what's happening, but I don't know what to feel anymore. I can't feel happy. How can anyone feel happiness at a time like this? Was I scared? Was I sad? Man… not even I knew anymore. This just felt… wrong.
*
Fin Ch. 10.
Does it sound like I'm running out of steam. I think I am. I don't know. The next chapter will probably up in the next week, maybe two. I'm not feeling all that well these days. Don't worry though. Big things are going to happen. I'm skipping a lot of useless plot to actually get something interesting into the storyline.
It's all good…it's all good.
Please r/r. Flames accepted. Criticism appreciated.
