Chapter 12, A Lecture in Potions.
Two days earlier.
"The difference between wand magic and the magic created by potions is entirely material. A wand, by itself, is not magical, of course. It is just a piece of wood. The magic is also not found in the words a witch or wizard speaks in order to perform spells. The magic is found purely in the mind and body of the user, with incantations to focus the desire and the wand to, in a sense, aim.
"Potions, on the other hand, are created by combining any number of magical ingredients to cause the desired effects. The magic is not from the mind of the person brewing, and so the power is very physical, rather then mental. Any muggle with the right ingredients could create a successful potion full of magic. Wand magic can be fought with a powerful mind, as long as it is more powerful a mind than that of the person wielding the wand. But to give someone a potion is foolproof, whatever your desire, because of the ingredients; they themselves are magical. It's a tangible sort of magic, with it's own color, scent and taste, all of which transmit the magic through the body, where it effects and/or enhances the capabilities, knowledge, or actions of the drinker.
"For the purpose of this discussion, we will view the complex potion, Veritaserum, as an example of physical magic. Who in here knows what Veritaserum is?"
A few hands raised.
"Fred Weasley?"
"I'm George, Professor Snape."
"George, then." he said, irritated.
"S'a truth serum."
"Very good, thank you for your annual confirmation of substandard intelligence and grammar. Veritaserum is not exactly a potion to make someone tell the truth, but rather a potion to make someone incredibly impulsive.
"When someone asks you a question, under the influence of this potion or not, the first impulse a human being has is to answer truthfully. This is simply because the truth is easier. Any lie, no matter how good at it a person might be, demands preparation. It must be invented, first of all, and it has to be believable and credible and beneficial to the liar. The truth you already know, and weather it benefits you at all, it is still much simpler than a lie.
"Veritaserum's individual elements work in the human body to isolate the first verbal impulses and eliminate all other options, causing the affected person to blurt the complete truth to any question he or she might be asked.
"A truth spell, cast by a wand onto a person can be overcome if the need to lie is stronger than the caster's need to hear the truth. Why?"
Here he pointed to a Slytherin boy.
"Because mental magic, or wand magic, comes from the caster's own mind."
"Elaborate, you're just repeating me."
"Sometimes the mind of the caster is weaker than the mind of the person being questioned, making it possible for that person to give evasive answers or even lie completely."
"Yes, right. Five points to Slytherin. Now, Veritaserum is a very . . . effective sort of potion. One drop will have any person pouring out their darkest secrets at the slightest suggestion from someone else. An overdose of the potion can have increasingly brutal effects. Firstly, if someone is oblivious to the fact that they have been given this sort of potion, as they usually are since not many would willingly undergo this administration, fear would undoubtably set in at the first sign that they have lost control over their speech. And since Veritaserum encourages the first impulses, that fear would turn quickly into panic and desperation, and the need for self preservation, any creatures leading instinct in any situation, would be enhanced and the impulse to either fight or flee in order to maintain control would be put into immediate action.
"Veritaserum should be used carefully at all times, and its distribution is closely monitored by the Ministry of Magic . . . . .
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Viola was immobilized. Her arms were pinned solidly to her sides, and no matter how much she struggled, he held her tight with one arm circled firmly over her chest. The force made her whimper as her breasts were crushed. His other arm rounded her neck slowly, pulling her head back against his shoulder.
The tendons stood out vividly on her neck. She could feel his breath, hot and harsh, on her ear, and he was pulling her head back so far that for a split second she thought he was going to kill her. Suddenly, as if he had been burned, he let go and stood back.
She whirled around to face him and was shocked. His eyes were wild, exploding with fiery dread. His entire body was shaking, and he was so much paler than usual.
"How much did you give me?" Snape groaned, and she knew he was in pain from trying so hard to control himself. He was having trouble speaking without revealing anything.
"I'm not answering your questions." Viola spat disdainfully, surprising herself with the confidence in her voice.
He made as if to grab her again, but stopped when she pointed her wand at his chest.
"Are you a Death Eater?"
"Yes." He answered through clenched teeth. There was no thought, no deliberation at all in his mind. Only raw instinct and the unfortunate truth.
"Jesus Christ . . ." she was visibly appalled. "How can you keep this from Dumbledore?"
"He knows."
She hesitated before saying, "Explain," unaware that the effects of the Veritaserum would make for a very long and detailed story. Severus looked at her for a second or two, his expression unreadable. His mouth was already opening when he sat down heavily on a stool behind a worktable. The first words had already left his mouth as he raked a rand nervously through his hair, and he prepared himself to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
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19 years ago.
It was such a long walk from the Slytherin table to the teachers' table, and the boy was troubled and shaky. He never faltered though, and collected his diploma from the deputy headmaster with a quiet sort of dignity that was rarely seen in the clumsy, skinny teenager. He nervously adjusted his black pointed hat on his sable hockey hair.
As he took his seat again, he thought for a moment that the graduation ceremony was going to last forever, and seventeen year old Severus Snape kept glancing at his watch, much to the annoyance of the blond boy sitting beside him at the Slytherin table.
"Relax, Sev." Lucius Malfoy whispered. "We'll go as soon as this shit is over."
Severus didn't reply. His throat was too choked with nerves to allow any coherent words through.
A camera flashed, and he looked to where the graduates' parents were situated, their faces proud and teary-eyed, and he saw Nicola. She was smiling at him, waving a developing moving Polaroid.
Fucking great. Severus thought. The last thing I need is for her to be here.
The sight of the small old woman made Severus want to cry. His parents weren't there, of course, but why should they be? He hadn't been allowed to see his parents since he was fifteen, and they hadn't even raised him before that. Nicola had.
Cyrus and Deanna Snape were not the most affectionate of parents. They were both wealthy and aristocratic, and upon the birth of their fourth son they were very tired of raising children. Little baby Severus was handed over to one of the servants, a middle-aged woman named Nicola whom they had enlisted as a nanny. He never had much contact with his family, as the Snape manor was rather large and Nicola had a tendency to keep Severus busy in areas where no one was likely to find him. She loved the child fiercely, and had no desire to see him turn out like his older brothers.
His parents barely noticed him growing up. Periodically they would take time out of their lives to sneer at him, and the boy quickly learned to mimic the expression. His grandmother, who lived with them in the house, was even worse. She was completely mad in her old age, and had a habit of staring at him with her milky, sightless eyes.
His brothers, Julian, Mason, and Gabriel, were much older than him and were away most of the time at Durmstrang, where they attended school. All three had received letters to attend Hogwarts, but their father had said no, his children were never going to a magic school for muggles. When the boys returned home in the summer, young Severus was a guinea pig for the frightening hexes and curses that they had been taught. Severus learned very quickly to avoid his family.
On his eleventh birthday, in the basement of the manor where no one would look for him, he received his letter.
Nicola knew it would be coming as soon as his birthday started approaching. She searched through the mail every morning for it, waiting. Finally it came, addressed to Mr Severus Snape in curly script. She hid it in her apron until that night.
In the dark, with only a flickering candle for light, the young boy read his letter and begged Nicola to find a way to let him go there, and not to Durmstrang with his brothers. She promised.
Cyrus Snape was a hard man, and gave little credit to his family. Especially that skinny runt of a son, but it hardly mattered. Durmstrang would toughen the little sod, and if not a good beating would do it. Cyrus never expected his youngest child, usually so quiet and reserved, to disobey him.
Severus had faced his father in the Dining Hall of their home one week after his birthday, the Hogwarts letter held tightly in his hand. Severus, who weighed maybe sixty pounds soaking wet, and who had never said more than 'yes sir' to his father in his entire life, stood and faced him and said that he would be going to Hogwarts, and not Durmstrang.
Cyrus was shocked more than anything, and it took him a full minute to react. One minute and one second later, the boy lay sprawled out on the hardwood floor, blood pouring from his broken nose. When he woke up in the morning, Nicola was nowhere in the house, and his name was down for Durmstrang in the fall. He attended the Bulgarian school until the end of his fifth year, when he was saved by Albus Dumbledore.
Even though Nicola had been forcefully removed from the Snape household, she never forgot her promise to the young boy she had loved so much. She immediately sent an owl to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, begging him to somehow get Severus out of his father's reach, for his own safety. Thought there was nothing Dumbledore could do at the time, he kept a close watch on the manor, waiting for the reason he knew would soon come before he could do anything.
When it finally did, it was nearly too late. After five years at Durmstrang, Severus was very different from the silent, degraded boy he once was. They used the cane there, and his back was calloused from his share of beatings. His large sad eyes had been transformed. They were now sharp and cutting, glittering black diamonds.
And oh how he hated them all. He hated how his mother fawned over the older brothers, and ignored him. He hated how he had no friends at that school, how he never made the Quidditch team even though he was good. He hated the teachers for caning him when he did better work than the other students. He hated the girls who laughed at him because he was ugly. He hated how he was forced to spend his time reading all alone in the dark
Severus Snape hated himself, because it was all he knew how to do.
But most of all, more than anything in the world, he hated his father. Hated him so much for breaking his nose and sending him there with his three violent brothers for company. Hated the looks of concept he had been forced to live with his entire childhood. He had never done anything wrong, and he hated his father because he knew Cyrus hated him.
He had returned home for the summer for the last time, and for the first time, he was greeted at the door by Cyrus Snape.
"Got a present for you, Sev," he said, holding out a long parcel wrapped in brown paper. Severus was surprised, to say the least. His father never spoke to him, and to receive a gift . . . it was unheard of. Gifts from Cyrus Snape were reserved for Julian and Mason and Gabriel, not for him. Never for Severus. For a moment his eyes softened back to their shy, nervous expression and he took the gift from his father.
"Thank you," he mumbled. Five years of getting caned had a way of making one remember to use their manners. Carefully he opened the package, and soon he was staring, dumbfounded, at a broomstick.
"I thought it was about time you made the Quidditch team at school, since your brothers have graduated." for the rest of his life, Severus would never have a clue why Cyrus had gotten him anything, but it hardly mattered. Maybe it was fate.
Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Of course he had tried to make the school team. It was the only thing he ever really tried to do. He even had his own broom. He had to save every scrap of money he came across for a year but he bought one and still didn't make the team. His brothers had always done something, anything, to make him miss practice. His broom was standing in a corner in his bedroom, collecting dust ever since he had given up on doing anything as good as his siblings could.
Oh god he hated him. His young soul was devoured by disgust and rage. He trembled with revulsion.
Don't think.
Did the man just not give a shit at all? Did he just have no clue about anything that went on in his youngest child's life?
Don't think Severus. Keep moving.
He started to walk into the house, past his father, eyes aimed carefully forward. It would have been fine if Cyrus had decided not to say anything more to his son, but alas, it was meant to be this way.
"You ungrateful little fuck, got nothing to say to your father?"
"Fuck you, Dad." Severus said. And gods, did he mean it. He meant those words with every fibre of his being, and they were very nearly his last.
A week later, when he had regained consciousness in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, Severus asked Headmaster Dumbledore how he had known he needed help. Dumbledore looked down at the bruised and broken teenager, fractured bones wrapped tightly but still in so much pain.
"I heard you scream." was all the old man said.
It was not nearly as simple as that. Severus found out later that his father had beaten him an inch from death. Two broken arms, seven cracked ribs and a fractured skull. Long, dark bruises branded his back, as if someone had went at him with a broomstick. A severe concussion, and many assorted cuts and abrasions. Half the town had heard him scream.
Nicola heard him. Ever since she had been ejected from the Snape manor, she kept a home very close by. She recognized the agonized cries as his, and used her fireplace to call Dumbledore.
The Headmaster arrived at the house a half hour later, and by then the shrieks had stopped. This worried him greatly, the house was so silent and cold. It had started to rain, but Dumbledore was so intent on his task that he didn't even notice. Walking slowly up the path to the door of the manor, he spotted Severus laying in a heap on the front porch. The rain was sloshing blood away from his body in swirls of sickening red, washing it down the stone steps in little crimson rivulets. No one else was home except the grandmother, who laughed madly as the old man levitated Severus and apparated him to the school.
He spent half of the summer in the Hospital Wing recovering under the care of a much younger Miss Pomfrey, and the other half he spent in Hogsmeade, where he lived with his guardian, Nicola. When fall came around, he joyously attended Hogwarts for the first time.
He felt awkward sitting on the tiny stool with the sorting hat on his head, but he was happy to be there, for the first minute or two. The hat took forever to sort him, and when it finally shouted "SLYTHERIN!" he was almost too embarrassed to take his seat. Perhaps it was fate yet again, but he sat down next to Lucius Malfoy, who took him under his wing. Lucius knew what Severus wanted more than anything, and maybe that's why they became such close friends. If it wasn't for Lucius, Severus might have been able to forget the old hate for his family, but Lucius was working for Voldemort, and Lucius had promised revenge.
But Nicola was always there for him, and that made it better. He would visit her on Hogsmeade weekends, and stayed with her on holidays and during the summer. He loved her, not like a mother because he never loved his mother, but something like that. That little bit of love was the only thing that kept him from running strait to Voldemort, like Lucius had wanted.
The thought of how he was betraying her now . . . for the first time in his life, he seriously considered committing suicide. Things had been going so wonderful. But now, two years later, he had found his way back into the hate.
The diplomas were all handed out and finally Dumbledore stood to end the ceremony. He spoke to his students, of hope and good times which would soon be on the horizon if they only thought very carefully about their futures. Their were all in the midst of very dark times, of course, and there was hidden agendas amongst many of the students and even some of the teachers, working right under the headmaster's nose.
The old man's crystal blue eyes swept optimistically over his students, his gaze seeming to linger on some. He looked for a full five seconds at Lucius, who just stared calmly back, his strangely beautiful face expressionless. He looked at Lucius like he was expecting something, a crack in the wall, a twitch, anything . . . and Severus, for a second laced with panic, thought the old man knew.
When he looked beside the blond young man at Severus, who was not so angelically handsome in his youth as his friend, Albus Dumbledore appeared only heavy-hearted and disappointed. He did know. Suicide was considered a second time. It was starting to sound live a very spectacular idea.
The sun outside was setting, it was warm and even birds were singing somewhere in the distance. It was a beautiful evening, really, but neither Lucius or Severus noticed it as they departed from the school for the first time as licensed wizards instead of as students.
In the general confusion of graduates and parents, it was easy to sneak away from the flow of people heading to the carriages which would take them to Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts Express. The two boys went instead to the Forbidden Forest, where they apparated illegally, since they wouldn't be able to take the test for another couple of weeks. They disappeared as soon as they were out of sight of the school, and reappeared outside a graveyard.
Lucius had been there before, of course, but it was Snape's first visit, and he was terrified. For a split second he considered running away, but knew that he couldn't. Deep down, he wanted to be there. He needed to be there.
"Don't be scared, Severus." Lucius said, genuinely concerned for his friend. "Voldemort rewards those who serve him. You'll get your revenge through Him."
That was all he wanted. It was petty and evil and sad, but that neglected, abused child was having a tantrum inside Sev's mind, shrieking to have his vengeance. He wanted to see that dismal fucking house burned to the ground, with all of them inside it.
He wanted his father to scream. Scream until death saved him.
"I've got you a present, Sev," Lucius smiled, looking a bit nervous himself. He opened his backpack and pulled out black robes and white masks. He handed one ensemble to his friend, and helped him to put it on, before donning them himself.
"Are you ready?" he questioned, his voice slightly muffled from the mask.
"Yes." yes. Ready. Ready to sell my soul to the devil. To Voldemort. So he can help me take revenge. Oh gods. Oh shit what the hell am I doing?
"Let's go then."
"Alright." oh shit . . . don't think about it. Don't think. Just walk. Keep moving.
They walked together across the sloping grounds towards the cemetery, where a crowd had already gathered.
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Argh . . Sorry to cut off like this again another third of the way into the chapter . . . I'll have the rest up in a week, hopefully . . . how do you all like Sev's story so far? Sad huh? Poor kid . . . every writer who has ever done a Snapefic has been faced with the challenge of deciding why he became a death eater, and then why he became a spy. Its getting hard to be original, but I tried my very hardest, honest I did!
Anyway, I've decided, dignity be damned, that I am going to beg for reviews. I am a crack addict, only not addicted to crack per say, just reviews. Yeah. Your reviews are like sweet crack to me. Review! Please!
I love you all.
Jeni
XOXO