Chapter 4: Evasion
Danger.
That was what filled his life now, danger.
Not that he could complain. He deserved it. The four years were the longest in his life, but Fate was kind to him. He wondered that his constitution had not broken. Maybe his strength would dissipate at the end of the war and he would die with no regrets, paying for what he had done previously. He prayed that it would be so.
The Dark Lord had increased immeasurably in power and influence. His followers were building in numbers and the terror was more and more widespread. Voldemort was getting more ambitious and impatient.
'Abomination!' was the most frequent word that screamed out of the front covers of every newspaper and magazine. Everywhere he turned, heads were ducked or gathered together to speculate about the darkest wizard to arrive ever since the one that Albus Dumbledore had defeated years ago. This time, there was substantial fear that it was more difficult to vanquish the new, faceless and foulest foe.
Until recently, there had been whispers of this unknown Lord Voldemort and his men who were called Death-Eaters. Sympathisers to the former's cause clamoured to join them. Arguments erupted over whether Voldemort was a curse or a blessing. True, some attested, Voldemort's methods were somewhat unorthodox, but they were for the better good. Others protested at the invasion of privacy and disruption of security. Then, as the Dark Lord's power grew steadily, the two camps became more and more driven apart. There was awe on one side and fear on the other, and both extended to such an extremity that the only thing they agreed on was the unwritten rule not to mention his name, if for different reasons. Lord Voldemort the entity became You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the presence. So choking was his grip over the wizarding world that even the hardiest would pale whenever any accident was reported, however minute or insignificant it was. Such was the reputation of the Dark Lord, that every incident must be linked to him.
He himself wanted to wring his hands at the sympathisers. They were making the same mistake as he did. He wanted to yell at them and show them the truth behind the lies of the Dark Lord. As his master became ostensibly more invincible, the darkness of his despair intensified and deepened. His gut lurched at the memory of the recent raiding of St. Mungo's. The smell of blood and rotting flesh lingered in his senses for a whole night. And the brutality and sickness of the activities the Death-Eaters indulged in. He thought he would not forget those girl's eyes as they stared into his while Nott raped her in the goriest way possible. Pleading, then pain, then nothing as she finally bled to death.
He groaned. Despite the help he gave Albus, it was evident they were on the losing end.
Albus. . . they were on a first-name basis now. The years of a Death-Eater did what the years of a student did not. They brought them together and made them embark on a partnership that was initially based on mutual aid, then tentative faith and finally true friendship, the kind that he had never experienced before. It was a joy in itself, to have someone one could trust unconditionally. Although he was still immensely secretive and did not disclose his thoughts or feelings as much as Albus, the Headmaster understood and respected him, which was another thing he had never before gained. The Dark Lord and his fellow Death-Eaters used him to achieve their own end. What was more, Albus received his undying gratitude for absolving him enough the first time to let him choose his own path and make his decision out of his second chance. Albus had taught him more about life in these years than he had ever learnt. He knew he would not be an optimistic man like Albus, but he was able to acknowledge the essential fact that life was what a person made it out to be. It was hard, and he sometimes caught Albus looking at him with worry. He knew the reason because Albus constantly reminded him of it.
'Don't hate yourself Severus,' Albus had said sadly, in one of countless conversations.
He did not know how to respond to that. How was one to stop loathing oneself, especially when one was justified to do so? Even if he now worked for the light, he felt he would not be able to repay all his debts and redeem himself. He was tired and dreaded the day when the Dark Lord would expose him as a traitor, a spy. Then all his efforts would be lost. Each time he arrived before the Dark Lord, he prepared himself mentally. Somehow, he managed to escape alive, if not healthy. Heavens knew how many times he had to swallow his pride and seek Albus' help in healing him. Thank goodness there was Poppy Pomfrey, the skilled mediwitch to turn to. She and Albus were the only ones privy to him being the spy in the Death-Eaters ranks.
Coupled to that was the balancing act he had to accomplish in his everyday life. After the capture of a few worthless Death-Eaters who were 'caught' because the Dark Lord had no use for them or was displeased with them, Slytherins were the focus of the blaming ritual. The grand name of Slytherin was besmirched almost overnight. Prejudice, once rooted, was nearly impossible to destroy. Witches and wizards alike avoided Slytherins and former Slytherin students found greater difficulty in finding work. In Hogwarts, Slytherins were mocked and ridiculed, particularly by Gryffindors.
Many knew of his background and connections to some more notorious Slytherins. He had to be careful not to react to every accusation made in his face, most of them ungrounded but nonetheless wounding his pride. Pride for himself and pride for Slytherin. Sometimes, officials from the Ministry 'visited' him, on the pretext of receiving complaints which he did not report regarding the state of his house. They would check every corner and leave disappointed.
Still, time was fast slipping and Albus' force was running out of options. The Ministry was in a worse state than them, having no coherent strategy or foresight.
Albus himself was getting tensed, always a sign of distress.
As if on cue, Albus' head suddenly floated in his fireplace.
'Severus, if you are free, which I hope you are, please come to my office now.'
'Of course.' He disliked using the Floo network, but it was efficient.
When he stepped into Albus' office, he greeted the sole occupant besides himself.
'Hello, Fawkes.'
It always amazed him to see the phoenix genuinely pleased to see him. Fawkes promptly flew to his shoulder and gave him a peck.
'I'm fine. See? There's no need for your tears today, precious as they are.'
Fawkes gave a huff and pecked again, this time harder, and hence more painful.
'Ow!'
'That is not the usual way one welcomes a familiar face Severus.' Albus smiled as he walked into the room.
He rubbed his cheek and glared at Fawkes who had flown to Albus and back to his perch. 'I'm not certain I like him newly reborn Albus. He's too frisky at the moment,' Albus chuckled. 'What is it that you've asked me to come here for?' It had to be important or his mentor would not have called for him. It was risky.
'James and Lily are settled in their new place. You ought to know.'
'I see.' His mood darkened. Whilst he felt no enmity toward Evans, the rage he possessed toward Potter would not abate. He also knew it was childish jealousy that was adding to his hatred for Potter. It was incredulous though, that those two got married. Not that he cared, but it was curious.
'They have their Secret Keeper.'
'Of course. The Dark Lord will not be happy, but it is expected. Ever since he heard about the prophesy, he's been obsessed by it. You know, it need not be Potter's son, Harry, is it Harry?' At Albus' nod, he continued, 'Anyway, it may be the Longbottoms'.' He sank into reverie for a while as he bemoaned the loss of two fine minds. He had wanted to rescue them but that bitch Lestrange was too much a favourite of the Dark Lord's. It was too late to save them when he had the opportunity. They had succumbed to the repeated doses of the Cruciatus curse. Twisted, sadistic, Lestrange.
Albus spoke up, 'The point is that Voldemort (he tried not to wince) chose Harry as his equal. Strange how Voldemort chooses Harry, isn't it?'
'Not that strange, but I suppose that was a rhetorical question.' It had been a revelation to know the Dark Lord's true heritage. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, but a halfblood as well. He shook his head. Must a person fall prey to bitterness against the world as a result of his upbringing?
'That is why we have to protect the Potters,' said Albus.
He nodded his head.
'I'm glad you have not let your feelings for James affect your dedication in the Order. I wish James can react better,' said Albus regrettably. 'He doesn't know who you are of course, but when he heard that our informant is a. . .'
'Death-Eater,' he contributed colourlessly.
'James was outraged.'
He shrugged, 'Well, you can't blame him, though I'd like you to. I have the advantage of a whole world's experience of containing emotion throughout my life while he doesn't.'
Albus looked at him sharply, then said sadly, 'Yes, you have. Severus, I'm arranging a meeting between you and Lily.'
He raised his eyebrow in surprise, 'Pray tell why.'
'I need you to administer a potion for her. Her magical strength has been weakened after her birth and it needs to be enhanced. You'll have to see her to know what is required in the potion. She is discreet Severus. I trust she will not tell anyone your identity, including James.'
'I see. Oh dear,' he smiled wryly, 'Potter will not like this.'
'He will not know of your meeting.'
'Where are we meeting? Surely not at their hide-out?'
'By no means. We'll have it here.
So it was that Severus found himself face to face with Lily Evans and her son two evenings later.
'He does look like James, doesn't he?' Evans said softly when he expressed astonishment at seeing Potter junior.
Too much for his comfort. 'He does,' he suppressed his scowl. Then again. . .
'He has your eyes.'
'Everyone says that.' Evans turned to the boy, 'This is Mr. Severus Snape, Harry. He's going to help us, so you must be thankful.'
It was surreal to be in a mother-son session. He snorted, hence startling the other two.
'I owe Potter a debt Mrs. Potter.' He alluded to the Whomping Willow incident, wondering if she knew about it.
She simply said, 'I prefer Lily.'
'Very well,' he did not take up the offer. 'I think we should begin straightaway.'
It took him a week to detect and confirm her weak areas and find a suitable agent for her body. By then, he was slightly exhausted, for he had to carry out his experiments in the dead of the night to prevent rousing anyone's suspicion. When Evans took the potion from him, she was alone.
'Thank you, may I call you Severus?'
'I shall tolerate it since we seldom meet.'
She looked at him thoughtfully, 'You've gained in confidence since your school days. You look so much older.' Nature had not seen it fit to bless him with favourable looks and he did not bother about his appearance. He said blandly, 'I'm twenty-three Mrs. Potter. It's a long six years.'
'It must be.' There was something in her eyes, something like what he saw in Albus', something akin to compassion. He recalled the days when she was the only one who defended him. He never thanked her for it, and he was reluctant to bring it up now.
'Take care Severus. We live in uncertain times.'
She smiled and Apparated. It was the last time he saw her smile.
Author's Note:
Got a yahoo domain where I keep fanstuff. Not much there yet, just some pictures and fanfic that can be found here too. It's a precaution in case fanfiction.net gets hung up or something. Hopefully, I can get my fanart posted soon.
Danger.
That was what filled his life now, danger.
Not that he could complain. He deserved it. The four years were the longest in his life, but Fate was kind to him. He wondered that his constitution had not broken. Maybe his strength would dissipate at the end of the war and he would die with no regrets, paying for what he had done previously. He prayed that it would be so.
The Dark Lord had increased immeasurably in power and influence. His followers were building in numbers and the terror was more and more widespread. Voldemort was getting more ambitious and impatient.
'Abomination!' was the most frequent word that screamed out of the front covers of every newspaper and magazine. Everywhere he turned, heads were ducked or gathered together to speculate about the darkest wizard to arrive ever since the one that Albus Dumbledore had defeated years ago. This time, there was substantial fear that it was more difficult to vanquish the new, faceless and foulest foe.
Until recently, there had been whispers of this unknown Lord Voldemort and his men who were called Death-Eaters. Sympathisers to the former's cause clamoured to join them. Arguments erupted over whether Voldemort was a curse or a blessing. True, some attested, Voldemort's methods were somewhat unorthodox, but they were for the better good. Others protested at the invasion of privacy and disruption of security. Then, as the Dark Lord's power grew steadily, the two camps became more and more driven apart. There was awe on one side and fear on the other, and both extended to such an extremity that the only thing they agreed on was the unwritten rule not to mention his name, if for different reasons. Lord Voldemort the entity became You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the presence. So choking was his grip over the wizarding world that even the hardiest would pale whenever any accident was reported, however minute or insignificant it was. Such was the reputation of the Dark Lord, that every incident must be linked to him.
He himself wanted to wring his hands at the sympathisers. They were making the same mistake as he did. He wanted to yell at them and show them the truth behind the lies of the Dark Lord. As his master became ostensibly more invincible, the darkness of his despair intensified and deepened. His gut lurched at the memory of the recent raiding of St. Mungo's. The smell of blood and rotting flesh lingered in his senses for a whole night. And the brutality and sickness of the activities the Death-Eaters indulged in. He thought he would not forget those girl's eyes as they stared into his while Nott raped her in the goriest way possible. Pleading, then pain, then nothing as she finally bled to death.
He groaned. Despite the help he gave Albus, it was evident they were on the losing end.
Albus. . . they were on a first-name basis now. The years of a Death-Eater did what the years of a student did not. They brought them together and made them embark on a partnership that was initially based on mutual aid, then tentative faith and finally true friendship, the kind that he had never experienced before. It was a joy in itself, to have someone one could trust unconditionally. Although he was still immensely secretive and did not disclose his thoughts or feelings as much as Albus, the Headmaster understood and respected him, which was another thing he had never before gained. The Dark Lord and his fellow Death-Eaters used him to achieve their own end. What was more, Albus received his undying gratitude for absolving him enough the first time to let him choose his own path and make his decision out of his second chance. Albus had taught him more about life in these years than he had ever learnt. He knew he would not be an optimistic man like Albus, but he was able to acknowledge the essential fact that life was what a person made it out to be. It was hard, and he sometimes caught Albus looking at him with worry. He knew the reason because Albus constantly reminded him of it.
'Don't hate yourself Severus,' Albus had said sadly, in one of countless conversations.
He did not know how to respond to that. How was one to stop loathing oneself, especially when one was justified to do so? Even if he now worked for the light, he felt he would not be able to repay all his debts and redeem himself. He was tired and dreaded the day when the Dark Lord would expose him as a traitor, a spy. Then all his efforts would be lost. Each time he arrived before the Dark Lord, he prepared himself mentally. Somehow, he managed to escape alive, if not healthy. Heavens knew how many times he had to swallow his pride and seek Albus' help in healing him. Thank goodness there was Poppy Pomfrey, the skilled mediwitch to turn to. She and Albus were the only ones privy to him being the spy in the Death-Eaters ranks.
Coupled to that was the balancing act he had to accomplish in his everyday life. After the capture of a few worthless Death-Eaters who were 'caught' because the Dark Lord had no use for them or was displeased with them, Slytherins were the focus of the blaming ritual. The grand name of Slytherin was besmirched almost overnight. Prejudice, once rooted, was nearly impossible to destroy. Witches and wizards alike avoided Slytherins and former Slytherin students found greater difficulty in finding work. In Hogwarts, Slytherins were mocked and ridiculed, particularly by Gryffindors.
Many knew of his background and connections to some more notorious Slytherins. He had to be careful not to react to every accusation made in his face, most of them ungrounded but nonetheless wounding his pride. Pride for himself and pride for Slytherin. Sometimes, officials from the Ministry 'visited' him, on the pretext of receiving complaints which he did not report regarding the state of his house. They would check every corner and leave disappointed.
Still, time was fast slipping and Albus' force was running out of options. The Ministry was in a worse state than them, having no coherent strategy or foresight.
Albus himself was getting tensed, always a sign of distress.
As if on cue, Albus' head suddenly floated in his fireplace.
'Severus, if you are free, which I hope you are, please come to my office now.'
'Of course.' He disliked using the Floo network, but it was efficient.
When he stepped into Albus' office, he greeted the sole occupant besides himself.
'Hello, Fawkes.'
It always amazed him to see the phoenix genuinely pleased to see him. Fawkes promptly flew to his shoulder and gave him a peck.
'I'm fine. See? There's no need for your tears today, precious as they are.'
Fawkes gave a huff and pecked again, this time harder, and hence more painful.
'Ow!'
'That is not the usual way one welcomes a familiar face Severus.' Albus smiled as he walked into the room.
He rubbed his cheek and glared at Fawkes who had flown to Albus and back to his perch. 'I'm not certain I like him newly reborn Albus. He's too frisky at the moment,' Albus chuckled. 'What is it that you've asked me to come here for?' It had to be important or his mentor would not have called for him. It was risky.
'James and Lily are settled in their new place. You ought to know.'
'I see.' His mood darkened. Whilst he felt no enmity toward Evans, the rage he possessed toward Potter would not abate. He also knew it was childish jealousy that was adding to his hatred for Potter. It was incredulous though, that those two got married. Not that he cared, but it was curious.
'They have their Secret Keeper.'
'Of course. The Dark Lord will not be happy, but it is expected. Ever since he heard about the prophesy, he's been obsessed by it. You know, it need not be Potter's son, Harry, is it Harry?' At Albus' nod, he continued, 'Anyway, it may be the Longbottoms'.' He sank into reverie for a while as he bemoaned the loss of two fine minds. He had wanted to rescue them but that bitch Lestrange was too much a favourite of the Dark Lord's. It was too late to save them when he had the opportunity. They had succumbed to the repeated doses of the Cruciatus curse. Twisted, sadistic, Lestrange.
Albus spoke up, 'The point is that Voldemort (he tried not to wince) chose Harry as his equal. Strange how Voldemort chooses Harry, isn't it?'
'Not that strange, but I suppose that was a rhetorical question.' It had been a revelation to know the Dark Lord's true heritage. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, but a halfblood as well. He shook his head. Must a person fall prey to bitterness against the world as a result of his upbringing?
'That is why we have to protect the Potters,' said Albus.
He nodded his head.
'I'm glad you have not let your feelings for James affect your dedication in the Order. I wish James can react better,' said Albus regrettably. 'He doesn't know who you are of course, but when he heard that our informant is a. . .'
'Death-Eater,' he contributed colourlessly.
'James was outraged.'
He shrugged, 'Well, you can't blame him, though I'd like you to. I have the advantage of a whole world's experience of containing emotion throughout my life while he doesn't.'
Albus looked at him sharply, then said sadly, 'Yes, you have. Severus, I'm arranging a meeting between you and Lily.'
He raised his eyebrow in surprise, 'Pray tell why.'
'I need you to administer a potion for her. Her magical strength has been weakened after her birth and it needs to be enhanced. You'll have to see her to know what is required in the potion. She is discreet Severus. I trust she will not tell anyone your identity, including James.'
'I see. Oh dear,' he smiled wryly, 'Potter will not like this.'
'He will not know of your meeting.'
'Where are we meeting? Surely not at their hide-out?'
'By no means. We'll have it here.
So it was that Severus found himself face to face with Lily Evans and her son two evenings later.
'He does look like James, doesn't he?' Evans said softly when he expressed astonishment at seeing Potter junior.
Too much for his comfort. 'He does,' he suppressed his scowl. Then again. . .
'He has your eyes.'
'Everyone says that.' Evans turned to the boy, 'This is Mr. Severus Snape, Harry. He's going to help us, so you must be thankful.'
It was surreal to be in a mother-son session. He snorted, hence startling the other two.
'I owe Potter a debt Mrs. Potter.' He alluded to the Whomping Willow incident, wondering if she knew about it.
She simply said, 'I prefer Lily.'
'Very well,' he did not take up the offer. 'I think we should begin straightaway.'
It took him a week to detect and confirm her weak areas and find a suitable agent for her body. By then, he was slightly exhausted, for he had to carry out his experiments in the dead of the night to prevent rousing anyone's suspicion. When Evans took the potion from him, she was alone.
'Thank you, may I call you Severus?'
'I shall tolerate it since we seldom meet.'
She looked at him thoughtfully, 'You've gained in confidence since your school days. You look so much older.' Nature had not seen it fit to bless him with favourable looks and he did not bother about his appearance. He said blandly, 'I'm twenty-three Mrs. Potter. It's a long six years.'
'It must be.' There was something in her eyes, something like what he saw in Albus', something akin to compassion. He recalled the days when she was the only one who defended him. He never thanked her for it, and he was reluctant to bring it up now.
'Take care Severus. We live in uncertain times.'
She smiled and Apparated. It was the last time he saw her smile.
Author's Note:
Got a yahoo domain where I keep fanstuff. Not much there yet, just some pictures and fanfic that can be found here too. It's a precaution in case fanfiction.net gets hung up or something. Hopefully, I can get my fanart posted soon.
