The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter 25

Only when consumed by passion is the human mind ever truly void. While lesser emotions will cloud the intellect, grand states of arousal will empty it. True terror will wipe it blank, while true oblivion is found only at the point of sexual climax –

Harry blinked, and looked up at Dobby in amazement.

'Severus Snape said you needed this book. He said there was one at Hogwarts, but it was too incomplete,' said Dobby.

So this book belonged to Snape, did it? It was certainly more colourful than Dumbledore's version. Harry gave a wry smile. 'I'll bet,' he said. He flicked a few pages and tried the glassless mirror again.

Find a point in space and focus your self upon it. This is your anchor in time and space, the point to which you will return. Focus until nothing is real to you but that point; and then matter will recede. Now visualise the place where you intend to go, and there you will be.

A movement in his peripheral vision made him look up. Dobby had jumped down from the bed and was once more peering through the wall. Harry was struck by a sudden thought.

'Dobby? Why do you always call Moody the One-Eyed Wizard?' Harry could see why someone might call him that now, but he remembered how Moody had looked in Dumbledore's memory of Karkaroff's trial. He might have lost part of his nose by then, but he still had two perfectly normal brown eyes.

Dobby looked back at him over his shoulder, an uncharacteristically cold expression on his little face. 'Dobby calls the Wizard the "One-Eyed" because he watches the world with only one eye and sees only half of what is there.'

Moody sat in the dark silence, wand in hand, and considered carefully what he was about to do.

Invading someone's memories was no trivial undertaking, and despite his determination earlier, he had to admit a certain trepidation. He had only done this once before, and he remembered well that once inside, there were only two ways out. The first was if the owner of the memories came and removed you. The other was to go through every memory until there were none left, at which point the Pensieve released you naturally.

There were a lot of memories in here, apparently. What would a Death Eater (reformed or otherwise) consider a recollection so distressing that he would remove it before going to face a Dementor?

Moody took a last look at his patient. Snape lay in a restless, drug-induced sleep, his stump freshly cleaned and bandaged. Now that he was free of the coma, Moody had augmented the vitalis potion with a liberal quantity of tranquillising herbs to keep him from waking up. As well as to keep the nightmares away.

Moody frowned, and turned back to the Pensieve. He might have argued to Dumbledore that what he was about to do would be in Snape's best interests, if he had cared enough to argue.

No matter. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind and focusing on his motives for what he was about to do – and lowered the tip of his wand to the surface of the Pensieve.

At first it was like standing in a dry, grey fog. Moody glance around, wondering if he should have focused a bit more on what he specifically wanted to know. Then he thought he heard a voice.

'That is very impressive. I knew you were very talented. But this is only half the spell. Can you turn them back? Or is that too difficult?'

Moody moved towards the sound, and the fog cleared to reveal two figures standing on a small patch of stone floor. The first was tall, with a long silver beard and an apparently kindly expression as he gazed down at the second, a small dark haired boy with his back to Moody. But the bright, familiar blue eyes held a glint of ice, and as Moody drew nearer, moving around so he could see them both clearly, he could see the smile on the boy's face fade abruptly.

'Yes, ov courrrrrse I can. I vouldn't leave them like that, that vould be dangerous.'

The boy waved a disproportionately large hand in a complicated signal over his head, and the scene expanded to reveal a large classroom. For a fleeting moment, it was a silent, empty space. Then, even as Moody realised what he was looking at, the room was suddenly full of children at their desks, all looking around with exclamations of puzzlement as they realised that Professor McGonagall had been replaced by Albus Dumbledore in what seemed to them the blink of an eye.

Dumbledore turned his attention away from the boy and addressed the class. 'Ladies and gentlemen! I'm sure you will be pleased to know that today, classes will finish early. You have an extra ten minutes for tea! I would hurry along to the Great Hall if I were you, before all the nicest things have been eaten!'

In a babble of happy chatter, the class emptied. Dumbledore put his hand on the boy's shoulder before he could follow them, however. 'Not you, Mr Snape,' he said in a very different tone of voice. 'You will come with me, please.'

Snape, now looking quite worried, reached for his bag. Before he could grasp it, however, he found himself being swept out of the room by the headmaster, who had taken a tighter hold than Moody had realised at first. The boy stumbled, almost falling over, and Dumbledore hauled him upright by his robe. Moody frowned as he followed them out.

The walk from the Transfiguration classroom to Dumbledore's office was ellipsed by another moment of grey fog, for only a moment later they were standing in front of his ornate desk.

Moody took a moment to study eleven-year-old Snape. The boy seemed rather small for his age, but he had large hands, hinting at the height he would attain in adulthood. The hooked nose, however, looked as if it had already reached its adult size; strangely, it was the only feature that really identified this boy as the man Moody had known. Altogether, he was strongly reminded of a gawky fledgling crow.

The icy self-possession was certainly several years away. Snape looked terrified as he stood there in the headmaster's office, and Moody wondered at the particularly severe expression on Albus' face. But the more likely reason for Snape's terror was standing at the fireplace, one long-fingered hand resting on the mantelpiece.

'Albus. You have my absolute assurance that this will never happen again.'

The man spoke in a smooth baritone, with only a hint of the accent which lay so heavily in his son's voice. Anzori… Snape? Moody studied him carefully as he moved to stand behind Severus.

The resemblance between father and son was unmistakable – certainly the hooked nose must be a family trait. But Moody was fascinated by how different Anzori was from the adult Severus. Slightly shorter but broad shouldered and powerfully built, there was nothing scrawny or underfed about this man. A powerful, hawkish face, with high cheekbones and olive skin, framed by long, straight white hair. The eyes in their deep sockets were slightly slanted, unlike Severus'; but the real difference lay in the expression. Severus' eyes were cold, dispassionate and distant, even when he was angry. Anzori Snape's eyes seemed to burn with an intense vitality.

Dumbledore sighed, glancing down at the papers on his desk. Moody was immediately fascinated. He had never seen Dumbledore fail to meet anyone's gaze before.

'I shall have to consider what is best for the school, Anzori,' Dumbledore replied. 'As I am sure you are aware, the possible consequences of Severus' actions today are frightful.'

'My son was misguided,' Anzori replied. 'He is young and eager to do well. He has had little experience of being with other children; he needs time to adjust. I do not condone at all what he has done today, but I ask your forbearance on the grounds that he never intended harm upon anyone. I shall take him home for a few days and you may consider your ultimate course. I only ask that you take time over the decision, whatever you choose to do.'

Dumbledore was silent, still gazing at his desk. Then he raised his head to look Severus in the eye. 'I shall do as your father asks, Severus. However, you must understand that what you have done today would justify your expulsion from this school, and I must consider carefully if Hogwarts can still accommodate you. Do you understand?'

Severus, white-faced, nodded jerkily.

'Very well, then,' Dumbledore replied. 'I shall see you both next week, when I will have made my decision.'

Moody followed the Snapes down the spiral staircase and out of the castle. Anzori swept up the drive to the gates with a brisk stride, and Severus had to run to keep up. The moment the gates shut behind them, Anzori rounded on his son.

'What the hell did you think you were doing?' he snarled. The formal tone and the accent both seemed to have disappeared.

'Nothing!' Severus cried; and he too seemed suddenly fluent. 'Sirius Black said I was no good at magic because I wouldn't kill a mouse and I said he was cruel and that he didn't know what real magic was and so I showed them… I showed… I…' His voice trailed off in the face of his father's volcanic glare.

'You… stupid… little… boy!' Anzori hissed. He grabbed his son's arms and shook him hard. 'Have you any idea what you have done?'

Severus stared at his father with a frozen look of shock, then burst into tears. Anzori pulled him close – and in the next moment, the grounds of Hogwarts had disappeared. Moody looked around. They were now standing in a large bedroom with stone walls and tall windows with glass so clear it seemed invisible. A sizeable bed stood against one wall, draped in rich, warm-looking coverings, with a few cuddly toys propped against the pillows. No prizes for guessing whose room this was; but Moody felt slightly surprised at the lack of more masculine toys. He turned his attention back to the Snapes.

Anzori released Severus and stood back, gazing down at the sobbing child with a burning look of anger.

'I am deeply disappointed in you,' Anzori said quietly, after a long pause. Severus fumbled for a handkerchief, choking into it as he struggled for control of himself. 'I have allowed you to learn as much as you liked, and then, because you were lonely, I consented against my better judgement to allow you to attend school. And this is how you repay my indulgence and trust?'

He scowled down at Severus, who gazed back out of anguished eyes. 'As if the harm you could have done with that spell wasn't enough! Did it ever occur to you that you have no idea who anyone is in that school? How do you know that one of those children isn't the child of one who would harm us? Even now, my enemies may have discerned the power you have squandered with your pathetic showing off! You could have brought us both into terrible danger!'

Moody felt himself starting to get angry. Why on earth did he teach the kid such a spell if the consequences of using it were so dire?

'Daddy,' Severus said in a trembling voice. 'I'm sorry! I didn't know it would be bad! I didn't mean to do anything wrong, and I would never hurt anyone! Sirius Black and James Potter were making fun of my accent, and –'

'You've only yourself to blame,' snapped Anzori. 'If you'd practiced your English more at home before you went to school, no one would have any cause to tease you about your dreadful accent. But we shall start work on that immediately, if the ridicule of children bothers you so much. From tomorrow, you and I shall speak nothing but English to each other. For the Christmas recess, I shall arrange lessons to correct your pronunciation.'

Tears welled up again as Anzori turned away. 'But my English isn't very good,' Severus whimpered.

'Then it will improve,' his father growled, sitting down on the bed. 'Come here.'

Severus gave his father a blank look. Anzori glared. 'I said, come here.'

Moody sighed, guessing what was coming next. He went over to one of the windows and concentrated on the beautiful view. Behind him, Severus screamed and cried as his father beat him.

Most of Severus' memories seemed to be of being beaten by his father. Moody passed through them with growing sense of disapprobation. It wasn't that he disapproved of strong parenting; it was that in all cases the discipline seemed wildly excessive. Most of the time, the boy looked genuinely surprised that what he had done had aroused such wrath, and Moody wondered if he was looking at some significant change in Severus' relationship with his father. The look of misery and bewilderment in the boy's eyes was beginning to gnaw at him.

The memories appeared to follow a time sequence, the earliest being Severus' dramatic display of power at school. After a while, Moody realised that the subtle changes in accent, tone and rhythm occurred whenever the Snapes spoke English: fluency indicated their own tongue, formal phrasing indicated true English. So why was he hearing everything in English? He could only suppose it was because Severus understood both languages equally well; but it still seemed odd.

Something else that puzzled him slightly was the absence of any more scenes from school, given what he knew of the antithesis between Severus and James and Sirius. So far, every recollection appeared to revolve entirely around Snape senior. Then again, Moody mused as he watched Anzori fly into another rage, sometimes people did store their recollections like that. Here are all the times I went to the beach, or here are all the times I had to spend with my mother-in-law. Here are all the times my father thrashed me for something trivial, and made me feel like scum.

The grey fog parted on a scene in which Severus appeared to be fifteen or sixteen. Up until now, everything had taken place in that stone house with its big, empty windows, in either his bedroom, or a library, of which there had been several. Here, however, Severus was sitting alone on the low stone wall of a church yard, a long, winding stone stair leading down to a seaside town from which came the dim light of street lamps. It was late at night, very dark, yet the sky was clear and fine. Severus was staring intently up at the stars, his face expressionless. Moody followed the line of his gaze, trying to work out what he was looking at. He had just identified Polaris when a sharp voice made them both jump.

'Severus! What are you doing out here?'

Severus turned slowly towards his father's voice, the faint light shining in his eyes as the long, greasy dark hair fell across his face. Already he was acquiring that cold, distant look. 'I was searching for the eye of God, Father,' he replied.

'Facetious idiot,' Moody muttered to himself. 'You know what he'll do to you – why the hell are you provoking him?'

However, just for once Anzori did not look provoked. He gazed steadily at his son, and for a long moment they regarded each other in silence. Then a small, satisfied smile appeared on Anzori's face. 'You are getting very, very good at that, Severus. I am proud of your achievement. Your mind is your most precious possession. Never allow it to be compromised.'

Severus gave his father a small, gratified smile, and Anzori sat down next to him. Now he had adjusted to the poor light, Moody was interested to see that both of the Snapes were wearing muggle clothing. Severus was wearing jeans and plimsolls, a dark t-shirt and a black leather jacket; his father was dressed like a business man, the long white hair drawn back into a ponytail and carefully hidden down the back of his jacket.

'Nevertheless,' Anzori continued in his slightly accented English. 'You could be doing this from your bedroom at home. Why have you chosen to disobey me and come here?'

Severus' nostrils flared almost imperceptibly, the only indication of his fear. 'I haven't disobeyed you, Father,' he replied in a slightly higher voice. 'You said I could go out, you said I could go-'

'On condition you came straight home afterwards. Instead, it has been over an hour'. Anzori cut him off in a mild voice, but Moody could see the temper already starting to rise. 'I believe I have also mentioned the foolishness of wandering about after dark. And yet, here you are, almost two hundred metres from where you said you would be.'

Severus fell silent, biting his lip.

'I brought the car,' his father continued coldly, getting up. 'We shall continue this discussion at home.'

Anzori drove in silence, Severus brooding into space next to him. Moody was vaguely interested to see that the memory had somehow planted him in the back of the car while giving him no sense of actually riding in it; it was as if he was floating somewhere in the background. He spent the short, silent journey puzzling over why everything had changed so much, from a fairly standard, if slightly exotic, wizarding background, to this entirely muggle scenario. Nothing he had seen up to now had suggested that Anzori Snape was the kind of wizard who would want – or need – to interact with the muggle world in such a fundamental manner.

The car stopped, and Anzori got out, slamming the door behind him. Severus took a shaky breath and fumbled with the seatbelt, just managing the release as the door beside him was wrenched open. Moody gazed into the old man's blazing eyes as Severus slid out of the passenger seat as fast as he could. From mild disapproval to towering rage in … five minutes? Hard to tell inside a twenty year old memory, but Moody had an idea that distance from where they had begun to wherever they were now was as short as it had seemed.

Moody took a glance around as the car dissolved around him. He was standing on a recessed area of tarmac taken from the front lawn of a small, nineteen-thirties semi-detached house. It overlooked a large lake which lay just beyond the winding road, and Moody felt suddenly certain that they were now in England. He moved after the Snapes, who had gone round the back of the house. Here, beyond the possible sight of any muggle, Anzori dispensed with his unlikely image and opened the back door with a snap of his fingers. He shoved Severus inside with a low snarl and slammed the door behind them.

They were standing in a narrow kitchen: clean, functional and tidy. A hall led off towards the front door, with a staircase leading upstairs on the left, and a door leading into a small sitting room on the right. It looked more like a rented holiday house than a home; and then, something which had been niggling Moody for a while finally clicked. There was absolutely no sign of anything feminine. Where was Severus' mother?

'You are disgusting,' Anzori growled; and Moody's attention snapped back to the scene currently in motion. 'Look at you! You look as if you haven't bathed for a month! You have twenty minutes to scrape off the filth. Then I expect to find you waiting for me looking presentable!'

Severus turned and ran up the stairs. Anzori watched him go with a look of fury, then slammed his fist down on the work surface. Moody frowned, and went after Severus.

Upstairs was a short corridor with a large window overlooking the lake at one end, and at the other, a narrow staircase leading to the attic. Following the sound of someone taking a shower, Moody climbed it.

The entire top floor had been converted into a bedroom, with a fanlight in one sloping roof, and a huge dormer window in the other. Moody admired the rather fine telescope which stood there, facing a magnificent view of the sky. He momentarily wondered why Severus had preferred the church to this, when up here he could have seen so much more and also avoided his father's wrath.

The shower stopped, and Moody turned. Against the middle of one wall stood a large bed facing out into the room, but against the other, next to the stairwell, some fitted wardrobes and a small bathroom had been constructed. Severus emerged, naked and dripping, vigorously towelling his long black hair. Moody was surprised. The boy was slender but surprisingly athletic, possessing a fine skeletal structure laced with sinewy muscle. A far cry from the dying wreck he worked so hard to save. It wouldn't have surprised him to have seen evidence of starvation this far back, given the abusive relationship Severus seemed to have with his father. It certainly didn't take much Healer training to identify the self-hatred responsible for inflicting such damage. But Moody had expected it to be visible now. Instead, he was looking at someone at the peak of physical health and well being, well nourished and well looked after.

Severus moved over to the bed, shaking his hair out of his face., and rubbing himself dry with clumsy haste. He struggled into a nightshirt, then sat down on the end of his bed and gazed at the stairwell with an apprehensive expression.

Moody sighed, studying him. 'You've only yourself to blame with this one, lad,' he murmured. 'Why on earth did you do something like this when you knew how he'd react?'

Then something else suddenly occurred to Moody. There was a sizeable gap between this memory and the last. Now he was looking more closely, he could see that Severus seemed to have grown into his hands and nose; they no longer looked out of scale. His hair was much longer than it had been in the earlier scenes, more like it had been when Moody had first met him at Malfoy Manor. How old would that make him? Eighteen?

A shadow fell across them, and Severus' face became a mask. Anzori rose from the stairwell, dark and angry; but, Moody found himself relieved to see, no longer on the verge of uncontrollable temper. He had changed out of his muggle business suit, and was wearing long dark robes which billowed slightly as he strode across the room, hands clasped behind his back. He came to stand in front of his nervous son, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment or two.

'Father, I'm sorry', Severus began. 'I only went there to test an idea I had, and I forgot how long –'

Anzori's eyes narrowed. 'You were doing magic?'

'No! No, of course I wasn't! I just wanted to check something, and that was the best place, and –'

Severus' voice died as his father drew a thin cane from behind his back. There was a short silence. Then to Moody's surprise, anger flared in Severus' face, and he jumped to his feet so he was looking Anzori straight in the eye.

'NO! That's not fair, there's no need for that!'

'Isn't there?' Anzori stormed back. 'You know perfectly well why I don't want you wandering about by yourself; you know why we spend all our time here hiding, and then you go off by yourself, doing precisely what I've always told you not to do! If this is the only way to get these simple facts through your empty little head, then so be it! Turn around and kneel across the bed!'

Severus seemed momentarily suffused with emotion, rage and humiliation blazing in his eyes as he struggled to answer his father back. Finally he burst out with, 'I haven't done anything wrong! You just do this because you like inflicting pain, you don't care about me, you're just a bully who hates me –'

And Anzori slapped him so hard he fell back onto the bed, his head twisted to one side, blood trickling from his mouth. Moody winced.

'You are a stupid, ungrateful, disobedient little fool,' Anzori said in a terrible whisper. 'I have taught you everything I can think of, given you knowledge and wisdom that other people have killed for, and you risk it all on a selfish whim! The muggle world is full of evil! Have you forgotten the murders of those who came before you, or do you care so little for the responsibility with which you have been privileged –'

'I don't want it,' Severus replied thickly, struggling into a sitting position. 'My blood is all you want, why don't you just drain it all and give it to him?' He wiped away the blood and his voice gained strength. 'Then you could go back to your mausoleum and spend the rest of your precious life with YOUR FAMILY and I could just die! I wish I was dead! I hate you!'

Anzori's face went blank. Then he reached out with hooked fingers and clawed Severus towards him, long fingers digging into the nightshirt and then into the boy's arms as he pulled him close. He tried to speak, but for a moment nothing came out but heavy gasps as he struggled to rein in his fury. Severus struggled, but as Moody watched, the boy's energy seemed to evaporate. Now so close their faces were almost touching, Severus dissolved into a silent howl of grief, sinking his head onto his father's shoulder as the old man shook with rage.

'Why do you hate me?' Severus choked. 'I try so hard to do everything you want, and it's never enough!'

Anzori's face twisted, and he flung his weeping son back onto the bed with an expression of revulsion that left Moody feeling sick.

'Why do I hate you?' he whispered, his eyes wild. 'Because you are all that's left, and you are not fit for the purpose that awaits you. You are a weak, stupid child who resists my every effort to educate, to advance.

'But you will learn, and you will do your duty. You are selfish and spoiled, and you have never known what it is to see those you have loved ripped apart and destroyed. I cannot frighten you with the thought of the suffering you will bring to others if you break the Covenant. But know this, Severus Mikhail: if you rebel or if you fail, yours is the first soul the demon will devour when it returns to our world. You have no choice but to do exactly as I have taught you, every seven years after I die. And I shall do whatever it takes to see that you survive to do it.'

Severus stared at his father in wordless shock, blank faced and dry eyed. Such a question from teenage lips was never meant to evoke such an answer. The wide dark eyes looked as if something inside had shut down forever.

In the silence, Anzori reached over and grabbed Severus by his ankles, dragging him roughly down the bed, rolling him over onto his stomach at its end. Moody watched, stunned with disbelief as the old wizard raised the cane with a savage look of anger. Severus never made a sound.

It was six o'clock in the morning, and Remus Lupin suddenly found himself wide awake. He blinked at the ceiling, momentarily unable to recall where he was or why he was there. Then he remembered that Mad-Eye had succeeded in saving Severus' life, and relief rolled through him in a warm wave of joy.

He sat up, alert and ravenous. Sliding out of bed, he pulled on a robe and softly padded downstairs to the empty kitchen. The house was silent, and, as he rummaged through the pantry for eggs and bacon, he wondered how many people had stayed overnight.

A slight, unidentifiable sound caught his attention as he hunted for a frying pan He smiled, thinking perhaps Tonks had come to join him, and went to the kitchen door to meet her. The smile faded when he saw there was no one there. But he knew he had heard something.

Wary now, Lupin concentrated, reaching out with his mind as well as his hearing. Nothing. Wand out, he silently moved up the stairs, pressing into the fading shadows as he reached the hall. It was empty.

Shaking his head, Lupin turned to go back to the kitchen and his much-anticipated fry-up. He had taken only two steps when a sound behind him made him spin round, wand raised.

He froze in surprise. Harry was standing right in front of him.

I'm back! And, incredibly, I'm almost finished. Really wish I hadn't lost eight months last year; it really is rather tragic to think that this silly little fanfic has taken me longer to write than it took JKR to finish the real book 6! And I have to say, it's been very hard work, knowing that HP & the HBP is almost with us, since I began writing TOSOTD because I couldn't stand the wait! Ah well... nearly there now.

As ever, huge and fulsome gratitudes to all the kind and lovely people who've kept me going with their reviews. There were lots of things I wanted to say to you all, but I haven't a lot of time; please know, however, that every review has meant the world to me. Just two things for now:

Duj: There wouldn't be any sign in canon if someone suspected fake Moody, because it's all from Harry's point of view - he doesn't know enough to have any suspicions. And if Snape was subtle enough, there's no reason for fake Moody to know he was suspected. It wouldn't surprise me at all to find that Snape had his suspicions, especially after that scene on the staircase, when Moody and Snape have their confrontation and Moody makes Snape's Dark Mark burn. I don't see how anyone but another Death Eater could have done that, and it's the sort of thing that would give the imposter away to the only person who might suss him out. Meanwhile, Dumbledore might reasonably write Snape's suspicions off as another example of his obsessiveness. It seems to me, in several ways, that Snape and the real Moody actually have quite a lot in common! As for the principled healer bit- that's a contradiction which I think is already there. We're told that Moody is one of the better Aurors, that he always brings people in alive where possible. And yet nobody seems to question him transforming a student into a ferret and bouncing him off a stone floor? A good guy with rough edges is how I see him; and secretly more complex than might be at first obvious.

Qem: Actually I put the bit about Gryffindor Snape in before JKR confirmed he was a Slyth at school. It seemed a strong possibility at the time, and I still think the evidence is good. Makes me wish I'd included dates on the chapters of when I actually posted them though! I identified Aberforth as the barkeep of the Hog's Head before she confirmed it. Silly, but it's nice to be correct in even obvious predictions - and it would have given a semblance of logic to the ones proved false.