Chapter 3
The week after his emotional breakdown, Harry came again to my chamber. We avoided emotionally draining conversations, as he must have been ashamed of the incident. I didn't press him about it, for I was very familiar with that feeling. I too, had avoided Albus for almost a month after my break down. I hadn't even thought that he would ever seek my company again, but against all odds, he came back.
Unable to bear the uncomfortable silence, I asked him about his lessons, if he had any difficulty in following his classes. He shook his head. I asked him about Potions and why he couldn't excel my class although he had the potential for it. The boy was as bright as his father. But unlike James, he didn't excel in his lessons, although I knew he put more effort into his work than James did. After some inquiries, I concluded that Harry had difficulties because of his Muggle upbringing. Since he was trained in Muggle's logic for eleven years, he has difficulty in comprehending the fundamentals of magic. That was why he couldn't develop a spell of his own, or combine what he has learned.
Of course, offering to tutor him seemed to be the most logical solution, wasn't it? Besides, it could put his mind off his unhappiness.
So there he was, sitting behind the large table in my office, frowning from concentrating too hard on his textbook. "Sorry, Sir, but I still cannot understand the meaning of 'different kind of logic' as the author of this book says."
I leaned against my chair, looked at him, and unusually patient, began my teaching, "We think differently from Muggles, Harry. That is one of the main differences between wizards and Muggles. As you can see, some Muggles too possess some magical abilities, like what they call ESP or intuition. But they cannot tap into their power, neither set their minds to control their magic."
"So, you're saying that what sets us apart from the Muggles is the way our minds work?"
"Yes, and of course our inborn magical power. That is why wizards often see themselves as far more superior to Muggles."
"How do our minds work differently from theirs?"
"We think *above* common logic, or what we call Muggle logic. For example, if we add two apples and two pears we can have four apples if we want to bother transfiguring the pears. We can go to a faraway place in the blink of an eye, without any means of transportation. These are, according to the non-believers of magic, opposing logic and physical laws, and thus cannot exist. They deny that there are some things that they cannot explain with physical laws. Those are the people who bind themselves and their knowledge within the boundary of physical laws. Of course, there are some Muggles who don't merely rely on physical laws to explain things. Most of them live in eastern part of the world, I believe. They use magic on daily basis, though most of the effectiveness of their effort is hindered by their non-existent magical power."
"So, we are twisting logic and physical laws with our magical power?"
"Not exactly. We are working *beyond* them. You see, there is another law that is working in the universe beside the physical laws. It is what religious Muggles call 'spiritual law'."
****************
"I think I get it," he said. This was the fourth time I tutored him about the basic laws of magic. He progressed far quicker than I had previously predicted. He was truly a bright boy. How could he not be? He was the youngest person ever in mastering the Patronus charm, winning the Triwizard Tournament, and of course, he repeatedly escaped from Voldemort.
"What do you get?" I asked him, my voice devoid of any sarcasm or sneer I usually showed in class. I must have been getting soft.
"Floo Powder is like a warp, isn't it?"
"What is a 'warp'?" I frowned.
"Um. it's a Muggle thing. Never mind." He chewed his Sugar Quill, a gift from Granger for agreeing to be tutored by me. "I mean, traveling by Floo Powder is like this." He drew two dots on a blank parchment in front of me. "If we want to travel from here," he pointed to one of the dot, "to here," he pointed to the other dot, "the Muggle way would be like this," he drew a line from the first dot to the other. "But the wizard's way would be like this," he folded the parchment so that the two dots touched.
I smiled.
He smiled too.
Seeing his bright expression, I wondered why I didn't smile more often.
**************
"So what's the difference between Muggles and wizards then, Harry?" I tested him. If he knew enough of the fundamentals of magic, I could stop the tutoring that had taken much of what little free time I had between teaching and spying. Strangely, deep inside of me there was a little annoying voice that told me I'd miss these sessions. Worse, that dratted voice knew that I somehow wished he would fail the test so I could keep giving him private lessons. Had I gone mad?
Maybe I had been Crucio-ed too often.
"Wizards can think above logic," he answered confidently.
"What does it mean?" I inquired.
"The main difference between a wizard and a Muggle is that a wizard can accept and think beyond common logic, and thus they are able to utilize their spiritual power into use. Of course, the mind isn't everything. You'll need a great deal of magical power in order to twist the physical law. Both abilities must exist in order to be a powerful wizard."
"The ability to think beyond the obvious is not necessary in order to utilize our inborn magical power," he added. "Like Crabbe and Goyle for example." He almost smirked. I wholeheartedly agreed with his unsaid opinion about those two. "Because of our magical power, we can still do magic without thinking like a wizard should, but we cannot develop beyond certain points. And that is why some people cannot understand magic enough to be an Animagus or to get their Apparition license."
"That is a very accurate way to put it." This had to be the first verbal compliment I had ever given him. He noticed it and beamed happily. His eyes lighted up beautifully. Perhaps this was a better way to see his eyes spark with such life rather than taunting him cruelly in class.
"So, do you wish to continue our tutoring session?" I asked him.
He nodded.
I almost jumped in happiness.
Dear Merlin, I was positively insane!
**********
"Dammit!" I exclaimed.
Harry put down his quill and looked at me worriedly. I cursed once more, holding my burning arm and ran out of my chamber. "Tell Professor Dumbledore he's calling," I shouted.
I ran to the nearest Apparation point from Hogwarts, a few paces before the Forbidden Forest, and apparated. The Dark Mark burned intensely, signaling Voldemort's anger. He could will the Mark to burn more intensely than needed, just to torment us. Knowing first hand his cruelty to his own men, I shuddered to think what he would do to Harry if the boy fell into this maniac's hand.
I arrived at an eerie graveyard, a different one from the last meeting. Voldemort seemed to have this ridiculous penchant for graveyards ever since his return. With his red eyes, and his repulsive body, he reminded me of a zombie, neither alive nor dead. I felt like throwing up in disgust.
"My Lord." We fell to our knees and bowed deeply.
"Lucius, do you bring any news from the Ministry?" he asked impatiently. None of us dared to lift our heads before he ordered us. Judging by the burning intensity on my arm and his tone, I guessed that we would bow before him throughout the meeting.
"The foolish excuse for a minister still believes that you haven't returned again, milord. But the rest of the ministry staffs have started to doubt his leadership as well as his conviction about you. I have decided that backing him up will do more harm than good, therefore to ensure that people will doubt his competence and trustworthiness, I support Dumbledore's claim about your return, milord, pretending to back up that old fool's decision to defy you. In time, not only I can take Fudge's office, I can also gain Dumbledore's trust."
"Good plan, Lucius." Voldemort sounded pleased. I was not surprised to hear Malfoy's plan. Dumbledore had suspected it when the Daily Prophet had reported that Lucius Malfoy believed in the return of the Dark Lord. "I believe a reward is in order."
I heard Pettigrew's footsteps approaching and then a sound of fingernails clicking on glass. I was very curious as to what Voldemort had given him since it was not the Dark Lord's habit to be so generous, so I dared myself to peek a little. I saw Lucius pocketing a blue vial. What was in that stuff? A poison, maybe. I tried to sniff discreetly, but smelled nothing.
"I give your son the honor to assist me in executing Harry Potter, Malfoy. After he completes his task, I will honor him to be my youngest servant."
"Thank you, milord," Lucius said with satisfaction in his voice. Dear Salazar, he had to be mad, ordering his seventeen year old son to kill! And that certainly made my job a lot more difficult. I had to prevent that spoiled brat from poisoning Potter while Blaise would watch Draco to make sure that he succeeded. Interference from my part would cause suspicion from both of them, from other, yet unknown, spies. Whoever thought that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth had to be insane.
Voldemort approached me. I had to gather every ounce of my will not to shiver when I heard his dissatisfied tone. "It has come to my attention that one of our most valuable members has not come to me with any satisfactory reports. Severus, you have stayed at Dumbledore's side for such a long time. Yet, you haven't given me any useful report. What do you say about this matter?" It was very clear to me that the cause of his anger tonight was me.
I bowed lower. "Forgive me, milord. But Dumbledore suspects me and no longer shares any information with me."
"And what, pray tell, have you done that he lost his trust in you?"
I stiffened. "Perhaps my frequent disappearances have led him to believe that I am reporting to you, milord."
"Are you saying that *I* caused you to be suspected, Severus? Crucio!"
The all familiar rush of pain hit me expectedly. I tried to stifle my scream by biting my lower lips. It bled. I fell onto the ground and curled up in fetal position, whimpering. Dear Merlin, no matter how many times I had suffered this curse, I could never get used to it. It burned like fire on every nerve in my body; it hurt like thousands of poisonous knives piercing my skin. Oh God, please stop it. Please. I'd give anything to make it stop. I finally gave up my resistance and screamed in pain.
After a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. I quickly gathered myself and resumed my previous kneeling position. Blood dripped down from my lips. The Crucio had been so powerful that I must have suffered an internal injury.
"I give you one more chance, Severus. Find information about Black and that werewolf's whereabouts within a month. Fail it and you'll wish you were dead," Voldemort said menacingly.
I swallowed the blood in my mouth and replied softly, "Yes, milord."
To my immense relief, he turned to the Death Eater beside me; my session for this night was over. "You, MacNair? What good news do you bring?" he asked.
"I have found the traitor, milord," he said triumphantly.
My heart skipped a beat. I heard a sound of someone being dragged, screaming and begging hysterically. Igor Karkaroff.
I let out a deep breath. There should be a law that forbids someone to feel so relieved when someone else was facing a fate worse than a Dementor's Kiss. But I couldn't help it. I knew that Igor's fate would be merciful compared to what Voldemort would do to me if he found that I was a spy for Dumbledore. Shivers ran down my spine. I would kill myself rather than fall into their hand.
"Crucio," Voldemort said calmly. Igor screamed. I could practically *see* the Dark Lord's sadistic smile above Igor's quivering body.
The screaming stopped after a very long time. Igor couldn't scream again. He was just whimpering pitifully. I had never liked him, but I felt no enjoyment in seeing him suffer. Hearing his screams and whimpering were pure torture; I almost couldn't stand it anymore. I wished I could run away. I clenched my fists hard. Remembering my previous torment, I couldn't imagine what Igor was enduring. I was tortured for five minutes and I barely could stand it. Igor had been crucioed for more than twenty minutes. God, or whoever hears this, please give mercy to the man! I prayed.
"So, while my devoted followers rot in Azkaban, you've spent your blissful life as the Durmstrang's Headmaster, Igor. I should have awarded you for your cunningness."
"Please, milord." Igor begged pitifully. "Have mercy."
"Mercy? Ah, but you spared no mercy for my poor followers just to buy your escape, didn't you, Igor? You *spilled* out their name."
Igor didn't answer. Wise decision.
"So, Malfoy. Since you've gained my favor today, what do you think I should do to this traitor?"
"Kill him, milord. Kill him slowly and painfully so that all of your followers shall see the consequences of betraying you."
"And how, pray tell, shall I carry out his punishment?"
"Burn his heart, milord." Lucius' cruelty was almost a match to his Master.
"You truly know what's in my heart, Lucius. Very well then. Cardiacus Incendio!"
I felt the burst of heat in front of me and I knew what was happening. Voldemort was killing Igor with the spell that burnt the heart of its victim from within. Igor had lost his voice because of the Crucio. I couldn't imagine what he would sound like if he had had any strength to scream. I felt very sick.
I felt the flame grow hotter before it faded and died. I raised my head a little and saw that there was nothing left of Igor's body but a diminutive pile of ashes. Finally his suffering ended. Never in my life had I felt so relieved that someone was finally dead.
"Severus," his hissing voice was merely inches above my bowed head. "Let this be a warning for you. I would love to try a more, ah, complicated spell should I know that you have turned against me. Do you understand?"
I swallowed again. "Yes, milord."
**************
The week after his emotional breakdown, Harry came again to my chamber. We avoided emotionally draining conversations, as he must have been ashamed of the incident. I didn't press him about it, for I was very familiar with that feeling. I too, had avoided Albus for almost a month after my break down. I hadn't even thought that he would ever seek my company again, but against all odds, he came back.
Unable to bear the uncomfortable silence, I asked him about his lessons, if he had any difficulty in following his classes. He shook his head. I asked him about Potions and why he couldn't excel my class although he had the potential for it. The boy was as bright as his father. But unlike James, he didn't excel in his lessons, although I knew he put more effort into his work than James did. After some inquiries, I concluded that Harry had difficulties because of his Muggle upbringing. Since he was trained in Muggle's logic for eleven years, he has difficulty in comprehending the fundamentals of magic. That was why he couldn't develop a spell of his own, or combine what he has learned.
Of course, offering to tutor him seemed to be the most logical solution, wasn't it? Besides, it could put his mind off his unhappiness.
So there he was, sitting behind the large table in my office, frowning from concentrating too hard on his textbook. "Sorry, Sir, but I still cannot understand the meaning of 'different kind of logic' as the author of this book says."
I leaned against my chair, looked at him, and unusually patient, began my teaching, "We think differently from Muggles, Harry. That is one of the main differences between wizards and Muggles. As you can see, some Muggles too possess some magical abilities, like what they call ESP or intuition. But they cannot tap into their power, neither set their minds to control their magic."
"So, you're saying that what sets us apart from the Muggles is the way our minds work?"
"Yes, and of course our inborn magical power. That is why wizards often see themselves as far more superior to Muggles."
"How do our minds work differently from theirs?"
"We think *above* common logic, or what we call Muggle logic. For example, if we add two apples and two pears we can have four apples if we want to bother transfiguring the pears. We can go to a faraway place in the blink of an eye, without any means of transportation. These are, according to the non-believers of magic, opposing logic and physical laws, and thus cannot exist. They deny that there are some things that they cannot explain with physical laws. Those are the people who bind themselves and their knowledge within the boundary of physical laws. Of course, there are some Muggles who don't merely rely on physical laws to explain things. Most of them live in eastern part of the world, I believe. They use magic on daily basis, though most of the effectiveness of their effort is hindered by their non-existent magical power."
"So, we are twisting logic and physical laws with our magical power?"
"Not exactly. We are working *beyond* them. You see, there is another law that is working in the universe beside the physical laws. It is what religious Muggles call 'spiritual law'."
****************
"I think I get it," he said. This was the fourth time I tutored him about the basic laws of magic. He progressed far quicker than I had previously predicted. He was truly a bright boy. How could he not be? He was the youngest person ever in mastering the Patronus charm, winning the Triwizard Tournament, and of course, he repeatedly escaped from Voldemort.
"What do you get?" I asked him, my voice devoid of any sarcasm or sneer I usually showed in class. I must have been getting soft.
"Floo Powder is like a warp, isn't it?"
"What is a 'warp'?" I frowned.
"Um. it's a Muggle thing. Never mind." He chewed his Sugar Quill, a gift from Granger for agreeing to be tutored by me. "I mean, traveling by Floo Powder is like this." He drew two dots on a blank parchment in front of me. "If we want to travel from here," he pointed to one of the dot, "to here," he pointed to the other dot, "the Muggle way would be like this," he drew a line from the first dot to the other. "But the wizard's way would be like this," he folded the parchment so that the two dots touched.
I smiled.
He smiled too.
Seeing his bright expression, I wondered why I didn't smile more often.
**************
"So what's the difference between Muggles and wizards then, Harry?" I tested him. If he knew enough of the fundamentals of magic, I could stop the tutoring that had taken much of what little free time I had between teaching and spying. Strangely, deep inside of me there was a little annoying voice that told me I'd miss these sessions. Worse, that dratted voice knew that I somehow wished he would fail the test so I could keep giving him private lessons. Had I gone mad?
Maybe I had been Crucio-ed too often.
"Wizards can think above logic," he answered confidently.
"What does it mean?" I inquired.
"The main difference between a wizard and a Muggle is that a wizard can accept and think beyond common logic, and thus they are able to utilize their spiritual power into use. Of course, the mind isn't everything. You'll need a great deal of magical power in order to twist the physical law. Both abilities must exist in order to be a powerful wizard."
"The ability to think beyond the obvious is not necessary in order to utilize our inborn magical power," he added. "Like Crabbe and Goyle for example." He almost smirked. I wholeheartedly agreed with his unsaid opinion about those two. "Because of our magical power, we can still do magic without thinking like a wizard should, but we cannot develop beyond certain points. And that is why some people cannot understand magic enough to be an Animagus or to get their Apparition license."
"That is a very accurate way to put it." This had to be the first verbal compliment I had ever given him. He noticed it and beamed happily. His eyes lighted up beautifully. Perhaps this was a better way to see his eyes spark with such life rather than taunting him cruelly in class.
"So, do you wish to continue our tutoring session?" I asked him.
He nodded.
I almost jumped in happiness.
Dear Merlin, I was positively insane!
**********
"Dammit!" I exclaimed.
Harry put down his quill and looked at me worriedly. I cursed once more, holding my burning arm and ran out of my chamber. "Tell Professor Dumbledore he's calling," I shouted.
I ran to the nearest Apparation point from Hogwarts, a few paces before the Forbidden Forest, and apparated. The Dark Mark burned intensely, signaling Voldemort's anger. He could will the Mark to burn more intensely than needed, just to torment us. Knowing first hand his cruelty to his own men, I shuddered to think what he would do to Harry if the boy fell into this maniac's hand.
I arrived at an eerie graveyard, a different one from the last meeting. Voldemort seemed to have this ridiculous penchant for graveyards ever since his return. With his red eyes, and his repulsive body, he reminded me of a zombie, neither alive nor dead. I felt like throwing up in disgust.
"My Lord." We fell to our knees and bowed deeply.
"Lucius, do you bring any news from the Ministry?" he asked impatiently. None of us dared to lift our heads before he ordered us. Judging by the burning intensity on my arm and his tone, I guessed that we would bow before him throughout the meeting.
"The foolish excuse for a minister still believes that you haven't returned again, milord. But the rest of the ministry staffs have started to doubt his leadership as well as his conviction about you. I have decided that backing him up will do more harm than good, therefore to ensure that people will doubt his competence and trustworthiness, I support Dumbledore's claim about your return, milord, pretending to back up that old fool's decision to defy you. In time, not only I can take Fudge's office, I can also gain Dumbledore's trust."
"Good plan, Lucius." Voldemort sounded pleased. I was not surprised to hear Malfoy's plan. Dumbledore had suspected it when the Daily Prophet had reported that Lucius Malfoy believed in the return of the Dark Lord. "I believe a reward is in order."
I heard Pettigrew's footsteps approaching and then a sound of fingernails clicking on glass. I was very curious as to what Voldemort had given him since it was not the Dark Lord's habit to be so generous, so I dared myself to peek a little. I saw Lucius pocketing a blue vial. What was in that stuff? A poison, maybe. I tried to sniff discreetly, but smelled nothing.
"I give your son the honor to assist me in executing Harry Potter, Malfoy. After he completes his task, I will honor him to be my youngest servant."
"Thank you, milord," Lucius said with satisfaction in his voice. Dear Salazar, he had to be mad, ordering his seventeen year old son to kill! And that certainly made my job a lot more difficult. I had to prevent that spoiled brat from poisoning Potter while Blaise would watch Draco to make sure that he succeeded. Interference from my part would cause suspicion from both of them, from other, yet unknown, spies. Whoever thought that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth had to be insane.
Voldemort approached me. I had to gather every ounce of my will not to shiver when I heard his dissatisfied tone. "It has come to my attention that one of our most valuable members has not come to me with any satisfactory reports. Severus, you have stayed at Dumbledore's side for such a long time. Yet, you haven't given me any useful report. What do you say about this matter?" It was very clear to me that the cause of his anger tonight was me.
I bowed lower. "Forgive me, milord. But Dumbledore suspects me and no longer shares any information with me."
"And what, pray tell, have you done that he lost his trust in you?"
I stiffened. "Perhaps my frequent disappearances have led him to believe that I am reporting to you, milord."
"Are you saying that *I* caused you to be suspected, Severus? Crucio!"
The all familiar rush of pain hit me expectedly. I tried to stifle my scream by biting my lower lips. It bled. I fell onto the ground and curled up in fetal position, whimpering. Dear Merlin, no matter how many times I had suffered this curse, I could never get used to it. It burned like fire on every nerve in my body; it hurt like thousands of poisonous knives piercing my skin. Oh God, please stop it. Please. I'd give anything to make it stop. I finally gave up my resistance and screamed in pain.
After a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped. I quickly gathered myself and resumed my previous kneeling position. Blood dripped down from my lips. The Crucio had been so powerful that I must have suffered an internal injury.
"I give you one more chance, Severus. Find information about Black and that werewolf's whereabouts within a month. Fail it and you'll wish you were dead," Voldemort said menacingly.
I swallowed the blood in my mouth and replied softly, "Yes, milord."
To my immense relief, he turned to the Death Eater beside me; my session for this night was over. "You, MacNair? What good news do you bring?" he asked.
"I have found the traitor, milord," he said triumphantly.
My heart skipped a beat. I heard a sound of someone being dragged, screaming and begging hysterically. Igor Karkaroff.
I let out a deep breath. There should be a law that forbids someone to feel so relieved when someone else was facing a fate worse than a Dementor's Kiss. But I couldn't help it. I knew that Igor's fate would be merciful compared to what Voldemort would do to me if he found that I was a spy for Dumbledore. Shivers ran down my spine. I would kill myself rather than fall into their hand.
"Crucio," Voldemort said calmly. Igor screamed. I could practically *see* the Dark Lord's sadistic smile above Igor's quivering body.
The screaming stopped after a very long time. Igor couldn't scream again. He was just whimpering pitifully. I had never liked him, but I felt no enjoyment in seeing him suffer. Hearing his screams and whimpering were pure torture; I almost couldn't stand it anymore. I wished I could run away. I clenched my fists hard. Remembering my previous torment, I couldn't imagine what Igor was enduring. I was tortured for five minutes and I barely could stand it. Igor had been crucioed for more than twenty minutes. God, or whoever hears this, please give mercy to the man! I prayed.
"So, while my devoted followers rot in Azkaban, you've spent your blissful life as the Durmstrang's Headmaster, Igor. I should have awarded you for your cunningness."
"Please, milord." Igor begged pitifully. "Have mercy."
"Mercy? Ah, but you spared no mercy for my poor followers just to buy your escape, didn't you, Igor? You *spilled* out their name."
Igor didn't answer. Wise decision.
"So, Malfoy. Since you've gained my favor today, what do you think I should do to this traitor?"
"Kill him, milord. Kill him slowly and painfully so that all of your followers shall see the consequences of betraying you."
"And how, pray tell, shall I carry out his punishment?"
"Burn his heart, milord." Lucius' cruelty was almost a match to his Master.
"You truly know what's in my heart, Lucius. Very well then. Cardiacus Incendio!"
I felt the burst of heat in front of me and I knew what was happening. Voldemort was killing Igor with the spell that burnt the heart of its victim from within. Igor had lost his voice because of the Crucio. I couldn't imagine what he would sound like if he had had any strength to scream. I felt very sick.
I felt the flame grow hotter before it faded and died. I raised my head a little and saw that there was nothing left of Igor's body but a diminutive pile of ashes. Finally his suffering ended. Never in my life had I felt so relieved that someone was finally dead.
"Severus," his hissing voice was merely inches above my bowed head. "Let this be a warning for you. I would love to try a more, ah, complicated spell should I know that you have turned against me. Do you understand?"
I swallowed again. "Yes, milord."
**************