3. A Friend
Time passed. In the beginning, Severus had had no way of keeping track of the days and nights and seasons that passed. Then he became aware of the pull of the waxing and waning moon, feeling it keenly when the moon was full and he knew that Lupin – the werewolf – was out there somewhere. He tried counting the moons, but after sixteen, he stopped. It made no difference to his situation. It didn't matter.
Since Dumledore had left only one person had come to see him. Not long after the headmaster had passed sentence and condemned Severus to this prison, Lupin had timidly entered the Shack, looking pale and tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were hollow. Then he had tried to apologise.
Severus had shrieked and cursed the boy who had murdered him. His ghostly form had been mutilated before Lupin's eyes as Severus relived his death. When Severus' throat was torn out and silvery blood sprayed the room, Lupin had fallen to his knees, retching and throwing up whatever he'd eaten earlier. And then the cowardly werewolf had fled down the passageway, leaving Severus still trapped in his prison, the small puddle of vomit on the floor the only proof any living person had been there. It had long since dried up and was now just another stain on the floor.
Sometimes Severus was silent. He would float through the Shack from room to room, sometimes through the walls and sometimes through the doorways. He would contemplate his brief life and wallow in self-pity and misery. This would inevitably lead to thoughts of his death, which would in turn make him shriek and throw himself against the walls, the floor, and the ceiling in an attempt to escape. It was the only way he could vent his frustration, no matter that it made no difference. Whenever the rage at the injustice done to him rose within him, he would experience his death again. He did not feel the pain – not exactly – nor the fear, only an all-consuming rage and frustration that literally ate and tore at him.
Sometimes he would huddle in a corner and weep. He would beg for a release from this prison, beg to be allowed to move on, to be allowed to escape. But his prayers were never answered, and Severus knew that they never would be. Dumbledore would never set him free, and Lupin obviously did not have the guts to do the right, Gryffindor thing and turn himself in.
Severus wondered what tale had been spun to cover his disappearance. Did they know he was dead? Or had the headmaster fabricated a lie and told everybody he'd run away? Ha. Where would he have run to? Hogwarts – miserable place that it had always been to him – was still the only real home he had ever known. He was not surprised in the least that his father had obviously not taken much trouble to investigate his death or disappearance. The older Snape was no doubt glad to have rid himself of his disappointing son.
Time passed, and Severus knew nothing of the outside world. Until one night.
He had heard disturbances outside before, whenever something particularly noisy happened in Hogsmeade, but nothing compared with this. Shouting. Jubilant Singing. Through the boarded up and grimy windows he could see multi-coloured explosions of light in the sky. Apparently, they were having a celebration of some kind. Curious, Severus pressed his eyes to a crack between some boards and tried in vain to see what was going on. He was so engrossed in trying to figure out what was happening that he only noticed the intruder when he spoke.
"Who are you?"
Severus jumped and spun around. His surprise was so great that for a moment all Severus could do was stare at the ghost hovering in front of him.
"I say, you look familiar. I didn't know Hogwarts had a new ghost."
"Nearly-Headless Nick?" He gaped at the Gryffindor ghost.
Sir Nicholas frowned, obviously not happy to be reminded of the fact he was nearly-headless and not just-headless. He was holding a tankard of ghostly ale in one hand, and there was a festive cap sporting an array of feathers on his head. He must have been celebrating as well.
"Sir Nicholas." Severus rushed forward and grasped the other ghost's arms. The fact that he could – that he could touch and feel the other – made him stare at where his hands clasped Sir Nicholas' elbows in wonder and amazement.
"Why, look here, young fellow," the ghost started, trying to extract himself from Severus' hold, but Severus was not letting go and he quickly interrupted him.
"You have to help me escape. Get me out of here; tell them he trapped me here and I did nothing wrong.
"How could he leave me like this? How could he not punish them? I am dead. They murdered me and he did not care. He just covered it up like some shameful secret, and I have been trapped here alone ever since. They murdered me and he doesn't care because I was just another slimy Slytherin – not one of his precious Gryffindors, whom he allows to get away with murder!"
"What are you talking about? Who murdered you? Who covered it up?" the other ghost interrupted. The jug of ale had disappeared, and he looked at Severus in confusion.
"You're a Hogwarts ghost – and at least five years old from the looks of you – why haven't we seen you up at the castle?"
Severus closed his eyes, still gripping the other ghost tightly. He tried to find the self-control he had always had when alive. Another thing Dumbledore had taken from him; his simmering rage boiled over even as he softly hissed his tale.
"Sirius Black lured me to the Shrieking Shack where he knew Remus Lupin was waiting for me. Lupin's a werewolf. He transformed when I arrived, and then killed me. He slashed my back and bit me." The wounds – Severus' stigmata – were inflicted again as Sir Nicholas looked on in horror. "He nearly tore my hand off." Severus waved the bloody appendage in front of the other ghost's face.
"And then he ripped my throat out, and I was dead. They murdered me and Dumbledore locked me in here. I cannot leave; he made this my prison. He covered up their crime, and I have been condemned to haunt the place of my murder. He is the headmaster; I was a student. How could he do that? They murdered me, I am dead, and he did nothing!" Severus shrieked at the injustice as his ghostly body relived the memory of the werewolf tearing him apart and feasting on his flesh.
Slowly Severus calmed down, and with the calm, his body was restored. Sir Nicholas had turned an even paler shade of silver, although Severus doubted it was because of his gruesome demise. After all, the other ghost could hardly be said to have died a clean death himself.
"You're that Snape boy, the Slytherin who disappeared seven years ago. They said you'd run away."
Severus nodded. "Yes, he lied. He lied and covered up their crime. And I have been trapped here ever since, trapped in this loathsome and pitiful existence because of the injustice done to me."
Slowly Sir Nicholas shook his head in denial. "There must have been some kind of misunderstanding."
"No. No misunderstanding. Black and Lupin did this to me. Dumbledore did this to me. They wronged me and I have been punished for their crime." Severus felt the small measure of control he had managed to regain quickly dwindle away.
"I will talk to the headmaster at once. This is not right; I am sure he will see the error of his ways." The ghost turned around and floated to the trapdoor in the floor, sinking through it. Severus rushed forward in an attempt to grasp the other ghost and stop him from leaving.
"No. Don't go. Don't leave me here. Don't tell Dumbledore. He won't change his mind. Tell the others; reveal what he has done to me. Please, Sir Nicholas."
However, the other ghost had already disappeared. Severus was left pounding at the floor, the exit the other ghost had so easily used and he could not pass through. Severus shrieked in rage and frustration as the back of his robes was slashed open once more.
Time passed, and Severus haunted the shack, desperate for Sir Nicholas to return, for anyone to appear and free him from this confinement and loneliness. He did not know how much time passed before the Gryffindor ghost appeared again, but he was reasonably sure it hadn't been more than a few days, there certainly hadn't been a full moon cycle anyway. There was a grave look on the other ghost's face.
"Severus."
"Sir Nicholas." Severus was nervous. The ghost had obviously spoken to Dumbledore. What would the headmaster do?
"I have spoken to the headmaster, and I must say I am ashamed of my house, Severus. I am deeply ashamed of three of its members."
The Gryffindor ghost was silent, and he looked away in shame before bravely facing the dead Slytherin once more.
"Dumbledore explained the situation to me, and he has sworn me to secrecy. He was going to put up new wards to prevent any other ghosts from coming here and accidentally discovering you like I did, but I managed to convince him otherwise. However, I am afraid I could not persuade him to let you go.
"The headmaster explained that he did this to prevent Remus Lupin's execution, and I can understand that. I too believe that young man was not involved, that he was as much a victim as yourself. Nevertheless, as Gryffindors, neither of them should ever have allowed this travesty to continue. I am sure there would have been other ways to deal with the situation that would have ensured your peace. Of Sirius Black, I can only say that it is a good thing he now rots in Azkaban. And I did not hesitate to point out to Dumbledore the tragedy that could have been prevented if only Black's murderous nature had been revealed to the world sooner..."
"Black is in Azkaban? How? Why?"
Sir Nicholas frowned. "You do not know? He was the Potters' secret-keeper, but he betrayed them to You-Know-Who."
Severus' confusion must have been evident – or Sir Nicholas must have realised that Severus had been cut off from the outside world for over seven years – because he quickly elaborated.
"You-Know-Who was after James and Lily Potter. They had gone into hiding under the Fidelius charm, and Sirius betrayed them. When the Aurors went to apprehend him, he killed another of his friends, Peter Pettigrew, and twelve Muggles. He was standing there, laughing, when the Aurors arrived, and they sent him directly to Azkaban. The Potters are dead, but young Harry, their son, somehow managed to deflect the Dark Lord's killing curse and defeat him. That was what we were celebrating when I found you."
While it did Severus good to hear that at least one of his murderers was now in Azkaban, it did not change the fact that it wasn't for the right crime. What did he care about the Potters or You-Know-Who? James had tormented him just as much as Black, and Severus had never been in the crowd of Slytherins devoted to Lord Voldemort. He had never been popular enough to join.
"So I am still trapped here?"
"I am afraid so. I tried to reason with the headmaster – surely a different solution could be found – but it was hard enough to convince him to allow me to continue seeing you.
"I feel that since Gryffindor has wronged you, a Gryffindor must make amends. While I cannot grant you your freedom, Severus Snape, I can keep you company."
"You'll visit me?"
The Gryffindor ghost nodded. For a moment, Severus felt relief and gratitude. Then the bitter rage welled up.
"I don't want your pity. What good is your company to me, Gryffindor? I want my freedom. I want justice. I want revenge! They murdered me. I am dead and Dumbledore covered it up."
Sir Nicholas watched Severus relive his death again, his face impassive, and he only spoke when Severus had worn himself out.
"I do not pity you, Severus Snape." That was all he said, then he turned and floated through the trapdoor again, leaving Severus alone.
Severus shrieked.
Nevertheless, despite Severus' harsh words, despite the fact they were oft repeated, Sir Nicholas kept coming back. He would talk to the Slytherin ghost; inform him of Peeves' latest mischief, the latest Hogwarts gossip, and just generally what was happening in the outside world.
Although Severus would never admit it, he was grateful for the other ghost's company, grateful for the distraction Sir Nicholas provided. He never said it, would still lose his calm and rage against the injustice, and shriek at the Gryffindor to help him or be gone. However, as the years passed, gradually the times he would lose control like that lessened, until it hardly ever happened in Sir Nicholas' presence anymore. This was the only way he could show his gratitude, his appreciation. Severus would never admit it to the other ghost, but he knew it was because he had finally found a friend, no matter how unlikely that friend had turned out to be.
