The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter 26

For a moment, Harry and Lupin just stared at each other. Then Lupin lowered his wand.

'Harry?' he said carefully. Harry blinked at him, and for a moment, Lupin had the impression that the boy was as surprised as he was. 'I didn't know you could Apparate, Harry. You know you're not allowed to until you're seventeen, don't you? And that you need to pass a test and get a licence first. And that it falls under the category of underage magic if you do it during the holidays?'

Harry shook his head, as if to clear it, frowning around the hall. 'I didn't Apparate,' he replied. 'I read about something and thought I'd try it.'

He and Lupin gazed at each other in thoughtful silence for a while. 'Well, I was about to have breakfast,' said Lupin at last. 'Why don't you join me and tell me all about it?'

There were no more memories of Anzori Snape. After what he had seen, Moody doubted if the old man's death had seemed like much of a tragedy to Severus. But in context, there was something vaguely disquieting about the absence of any memory of the death of such a significant figure.

Not that he had time to think about it right now. As he had suspected, the next set of memories were also themed: Severus Snape versus James Potter and Sirius Black. There were fewer gaps in these memories than in the previous set, but they too flowed in a time sequence. Moody passed through them all in an increasingly grim mood. Why on earth had Minerva and Albus allowed such disgraceful behaviour to go on? No wonder the boy had ended up in the bad company he had, when he was continually the victim of such concentrated bullying. There never seemed to be a teacher or a prefect around until Snape started fighting back. So it always looked as though ugly little Severus had started it, while James and Sirius were the innocent ones. And as for that episode by the lake after the OWL exams!

So absorbed was he in the dramas playing out before him that Moody was only dimly aware of his sympathies shifting. He was starting to feel angry at Sirius and James, when previously he had felt… what? He hadn't really known James particularly well; and until a year ago, he had sincerely believed Sirius to have been a treacherous murderer. He frowned, a small self-revelation just out of reach. There wasn't time to think now about how he was dealing with this new information. Best to just concentrate on what he was seeing, and reflect on it later.

No sign of either Lucius Malfoy or Frank Longbottom so far. But then, they were unlikely to have featured in any "bad" memories of school, weren't they? And there came another twinge from the back of Moody's mind, some valuable assessment of what he was seeing trying to make itself clear. He shook his head, and tried to concentrate as the Pensieve continued its parade of misery.

Down in the kitchen, Harry cooked while Lupin got out plates and cutlery.

'So this book was a present from Severus, was it?' Lupin asked.

'Yeah. Dobby said it was about Occlumency, and the one at Hogwarts wasn't good enough. There's a lot more than just Occlumency in there though. I didn't think I'd be able to do what I just did, actually.'

He put the plates of food on the table and sat down, frowning. 'I'm not sure what exactly it was that I did do, to be honest.'

'What you did was to move yourself from a bedroom on the second floor to the hall on the ground by magical means. Which is technically illegal,' murmured Lupin. He munched thoughtfully. 'I wouldn't mind seeing that book.'

Harry said nothing, picking at his food. 'Yeah, if you want,' he said, feeling suddenly listless and disinterested. Lupin watched him for a few moments, then said quietly, 'I got a letter from Gringotts bank. Did you get one?'

Harry studied the edge of his plate. 'Yeah.'

'Maybe after we eaten, we could go and see them?' Lupin said tentatively. 'I don't think we should hang it longer than necessary; the longer we leave it the harder it'll be.'

Harry stabbed his fried egg. 'It's Sunday,' he said. 'Won't all the banks be closed on Sunday?'

'Not Gringotts,' Lupin replied. 'The goblins don't pay any attention to the human world. That's how Sirius was able to get to his money and sort out his will without getting into any trouble.'

The gaps between the memories were bigger now, and the scenes shorter.

The incident with the Shrieking Shack and his discovery of Remus' lycanthropy had been the longest; although it was less clear to Moody why this had felt so bad. It seemed to be the first time that Dumbledore actually recognised James and Sirius for the rather unpleasant young people they had been back then, instead of treating them like loveable scamps; for once, Severus was being recognised as the blameless victim instead of antagonist.

Whatever the scene meant to Severus, it meant nothing to Moody. He must have spent almost two hours inside the Pensieve by now, and yet had learned nothing of any use.

One last memory, an odd little scene in the school library. Severus was standing between the book stacks, a large book cradled in his arms while his attention was focused on something happening on the other side of the shelf.

Moody caught his breath as he followed the line of Severus' gaze. James and Lily were setting at a desk with Remus and… Alice Longbottom.

He slid around the shelf for a better look. Alice, before she married Frank, Remus, James and Lily before they all left school. Given all the books and parchment lying around, Moody imagined this must have been during the revision period before the NEWTS.

The four young people sat in a friendly little group, chattering in excited whispers, while just out of sight, Severus watched, alone and unwanted. The empty, lost expression in those cold, dark eyes seemed all the more striking when compared with the bright happiness so much in evidence before him.

No matter how close he got, Moody could not make out a word they were saying to each other. He realised that Severus had never managed to do so either; more than that: Severus had no idea what they had been talking about, and his memory had never filled in the blank.

Something sharp twisted in Moody's heart as he watched the faces of Alice and Lily. He suddenly felt sure he knew what was making their pretty faces light up. What else could they be talking about, but their wedding plans? Both girls had married very soon after leaving Hogwarts. Alice seemed to glow, and it suddenly occurred to Moody that she was beautiful. Round faced, but like a china doll, with delicate colouring and big blue eyes that shone with vitality and intelligence. What a waste.

Moody turned away, a lump rising in his throat, catching a last glimpse of Severus' lonely face before the scene faded. The fog thickened briefly, then cleared. It was with some relief that he realised the school memories were over, as the scene opened in a room unlike any he had seen at Hogwarts.

Severus was sitting in a small, candlelit room, at an ornate desk littered with scrolls and loose sheets of parchment. Moody studied it carefully. Old, solid wooden furniture indicated old money and good taste; the absence of dust and the meticulous order in which it was evidently kept suggested servants to maintain it. Moody nodded to himself, a sense of satisfaction building as he worked out where he was. This room in which Severus was poring avidly over his document had to be in Malfoy Manor.

Moody moved closer to Severus, studying his appearance. This was Severus Snape as Moody first knew him. The oily hair gleamed, falling in a glossy sheet to below his shoulders. The flowing robes, a far cry from the plain black school ones, looked as though they were made of silk. Very pretty, Moody thought cynically. Malfoy paid well, but he had forceful ideas about how his staff should look, didn't he? Not that you objected, you vain sod, I remember you poncing down the hall in front of me like you owned the place…

He moved closer, pushing his own memories aside as he tried to see what Severus was reading. The boy might have looked magnificent in that outfit when he stood up straight and squared his narrow shoulders, but he was looking a bit pathetic just at this moment. Hunched up and somehow shrinking into himself, the long-nailed fingers seemed to be holding the parchment too tight, and much closer to his face than was necessary. The thin mouth was compressed into a thin line, but the eyes – blacker than Moody remembered them, even from a few hours ago – held a peculiarly intense look that he couldn't quite decipher. It was clear that the mess of parchment had been created by Severus, as if he had found a box of scrolls and upended the lot without caring what fell where. As he came closer, Moody noticed that Severus' breathing was quick and shallow. Whatever he was reading, it was upsetting him badly.

There was a muffled banging somewhere in the distance. Severus didn't seem to hear it at first. It came again; and slowly he lowered the parchment onto the pile on the desk, his eyes distant and intense. He rose slowly from his chair, then suddenly grabbed the edge of the desk, the little colour in his face draining so swiftly Moody thought he was going to faint. He took some slow, deliberate breaths, steadying himself. Then he straightened and turned, opening the door almost gently.

Moody followed him, and found himself in a room he recognised. Octavian Malfoy's study. If only he had been able to search it as thoroughly as he had wanted! But even back then the Malfoys had been sufficiently able to buy off the Ministry and so tie Moody's hands.

Severus closed the door to the smaller room as if it was made of paper; when it shut, there was nothing to indicate its presence in the oak-panelled room. He stood for a moment gazing at it, expressionless except for those black eyes, intense with terrible emotion; then he turned and strode off to answer the front door. Moody gave the hidden door a last look, then followed him.

Severus seemed almost to be floating as he swept off towards the entrance hall. Moody found himself struggling to keep up. This memory was coloured by more emotion than he had ever encountered in a Pensieve before, and it was getting in the way. Pensieves generally stored only pictures; occasionally, if the memories' owner had been particularly disturbed by the recorded event, the memory itself became very difficult for any third party to endure. Moody had been concerned this might happen, but he was intrigued that it was this memory producing the effect.

The front door was open when Moody reached it, and Severus was standing in the open doorway, robes moving slightly in the breeze. With a small shock, he recognised the voice of the man on the doorstep.

'Good afternoon, Mr. Snape. Is your master in?'

Moody moved next to Severus in time to see the blank expression disappear into a sneer. 'Good afternoon, Mr Moody. No, he is not. If, in the future, you would have the courtesy to let us know when you are coming, I'm sure Mr Malfoy would be only to happy to receive you.'

'More time to prepare for my visit, you mean? Yes, I'm sure he would. But since he's not here, perhaps we could speak to you?'

Moody let his breath out slowly, only now realising he had been holding it. He remembered this little encounter. It was the second time he had ever met Severus Snape, and on this occasion, Frank Longbottom had been with him.

He remembered the door opening, and that young man in his flowing silken robes looking down his hooked nose at him with expression of utter distaste, ignoring Frank completely.

As he remembered, Frank had always disagreed with his assessment of Snape. Moody had thought him a stuck-up little fop; Frank had said he was glad that he looked so well, even if he was wasting his talents on the Malfoys. Moody had believed Snape had been as deep into whatever the Malfoys were into as they were; Frank had believed him an innocent caught up by the wrong crowd. Moody had wondered why; now he knew.

There was a long pause on the doorstep. Standing behind him in the memory, Moody could see the long-nailed hand suddenly tighten on the inner door handle. Outside, Moody the Auror, able-bodied and unscarred, tried in vain to discern the expression in those unreadable dark eyes. He had expected the insolent young wizard to tell him he would have to apply for a warrant if he wished to enter the premises without Mr Malfoy's express permission.

'Of course. Do come in.'

To his surprise, Severus Snape had stood aside, opening the door wide. Moody and Frank came in, and Snape gave the door an almost careless shove. It had slammed, and Moody remembered putting it down to teenage petulance. Now, though, he noted only the change in mood, and wondered what it meant.

Moody and Frank stood in the hall, and Snape slid past them with a sideways glance of contempt.

'I'm in the middle of an assignment for Mr. Malfoy,' he said, sweeping away into the house. 'You will excuse me if I continue with it while you ask your questions.'

And Moody remembered how that had rankled, this jumped-up little nobody in his master's house, graciously allowing them an audience. He followed Frank and his younger self as they trailed in Snape's wake down long corridors and into the study with its little hidden room. And now he wondered how he could have failed to have picked up on how odd this was at the time. Octavian Malfoy would have been furious if he had known Snape had allowed them in there. So why had he done it when he could have spoken to them on the doorstep?

Because he wanted to you to find that room?

Back inside the study, Snape turned his back on Moody and Frank and began taking books out of a collection which lined two walls of the room. Moody had seen them once before, on the only previous occasion when he had been able to gain access to search the manor. A very learned collection, but nothing incriminating. Snape took an armful and dumped them on a desk near the window. He sat down, picking up a quill and some parchment, and began writing down the title of the first. Then he looked up at Frank and Moody, still standing there.

'Well? I haven't got all day. What did you want to discuss?'

'When did Mr Malfoy leave?'

Snape rolled his eyes; was it Moody's imagination, or did his gaze linger slightly on the space where the hidden door was located? 'Last Thursday, at 2pm,' he replied in a bored voice. 'Next?'

'When will he be back?' Behind him, Frank was giving the room an apparently idle once-over.

'Not until next Tuesday. I don't know what time.' Snape scribbled the author of the book, then, to Moody's amazement (then and now), threw it to the floor. It landed open and face down, the stiff pages buckling. Snape stared defiantly at Moody, who raised an eyebrow.

'I don't think Mr Malfoy will be happy with you treating his books like that,' he had commented.

Snape's nostrils flared, and the look of distaste became almost hatred. 'My relationship with M-m-mr Malfoy is none of your business.'

Snape had stuttered. ('English isn't his first language, you were making him nervous,' Frank told him later). The only wrinkle in that arrogant self-composure, and he had accepted Frank's explanation of it! Now Moody felt certain it had nothing to do with nervousness and everything to do with what he had been reading in that room. (And what exactly had he meant by that strange answer?)

'And what about your friend Lucius? Is he around? Presumably not, if you feel like abusing his father's property.'

'I don't know where Lucius is, nor when he will be back. I'm not expecting him today.'

'Why not?'

'How should I know? I'm a-a-a-a- servant!'

Frank was frowning just behind his superior's shoulder. Moody hadn't know what to make of that answer at the time, and had decided there was nothing more to be gained by staying. He had concluded, however, that Severus Snape was hiding something important, and he had wanted to go back to the Ministry to revise all he knew of him.

'Okay, well, thank you for your time, Mr Snape. Let Mr Malfoy know we were here, and that we will be back to talk to him at some point.'

Snape rose from the desk, fixing them with a truly icy stare. 'Very well. I will show you out.'

He held the door open and Moody went out. He did not see, as he was seeing now, the slightly desperate look in Snape's eyes as he watched Frank follow Moody out of the front door and into the sunshine.

The door had slammed, and Moody and Frank had Disapparated back to the Ministry.

Behind the front door, Moody watched intently as Snape slammed both fists against it in sudden fury. He panted for a moment, then turned and sped back to the study, spinning on his heel to slam the door shut then turn towards the wall with its hidden door and…

… found Octavian Malfoy calmly straightening the damaged leaves of his book. He looked up with a calm expression as Snape froze.

'Hello Severus. You've been a bit careless, haven't you?'

Snape swallowed. 'I'm sorry, I dropped it…'

The pointed face in its frame of ash blond hair suddenly hardened. 'Don't play games with me. Did you really think I'd go to such lengths to hide my private papers in a secret room, only to leave no way of telling when someone had invaded it?'

Snape closed his eyes. Malfoy walked over to him, a cruel smile lifting the corner of his mouth. 'You've been very naughty,' he said. 'What am I going to do with you?'

Snape bit his lip. 'I owe you my life,' he whispered.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'Do you?'

Snape nodded, swallowing. 'I realise now, after reading your diary, that if it were not for you, I would never have been born.' He opened his eyes, and gazed up at Malfoy from under his eyelashes, innocent and submissive. 'Ask anything of me, master. I owe you my life.'

Malfoy's smile lengthened, and Moody noted with disgust the suddenly greedy look in the cold blue eyes. He stroked Snape's cheek, then slid his hand round the back of the boy's neck to pull him forward and plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Snape let his head fall onto Malfoy's shoulder, his body limp in the older man's embrace.

'Dear child,' Malfoy breathed. 'Show me your father's house.'

Snape put his arms around Malfoy's waist like a child; the image of room around them blurred and slid out of focus. The colours swam, reformed, and then… Moody recognised the location from the view out of Severus' bedroom window in that very first memory.

Malfoy looked around him. 'Ah yes,' he said. 'I think I remember this beach.'

Snape stepped back from him, doe-eyed and eager. 'This was my favourite place when I was a child,' he said. 'I used to come here to avoid my father.' He looked suddenly downcast.

Malfoy caressed his face again. 'All over now, little one. Daddy's dead and you're safe with me. Now, take me inside. You know what I want to see, don't you?'

Severus gave him a peculiarly sweet smile. It looked out of place on his face, and Moody watched in astonishment as he took Malfoy's hand and led the way up the beach to where the sand gave way to scrubby grass and ended in a solid rock face. He stretched out his free hand and stroked the rock, and suddenly there was a large, ornate wooden door set into the stone.

He released Malfoy's hand and gave him another innocent, childlike look, his hand resting on the door knob. 'Go on, then,' Malfoy said encouragingly, but with the slightest tinge of impatience. Severus smiled, and pushed the door open.

'Is this the way you came in last time?' he asked, as he led the way into a vast carven hall. Malfoy gazed around, seemingly as impressed as Moody privately was, at the beautiful array of stalactites and stalagmites which covered the ceiling and lined the floors. 'No,' he murmured, 'there was an entrance at the top, and we came in that way and-'

He broke off. Severus, almost at the foot of the sweeping staircase, stopped and turned towards him. 'What's wrong, Octavian?' he said. Moody noticed the innocent tone had disappeared.

Malfoy frowned, rubbing at his throat. Then he fell to his knees, gasping. Severus came towards him, black eyes glittering with hatred.

'My father was too late to save any of them,' he said in a deadly whisper. 'But he was determined that it should never happen again. So he cursed the house. Only those of Khvalibog blood may cross the threshold and live.'

Malfoy stared up at Severus in horror. He stretched out towards him, but Severus backed away, and in his eyes Moody saw again the expression he had worn while reading that document. Malfoy gave a pathetic cry, and suddenly his body seemed to shrivel and dry, like a leaf in a flame. The blue eyes rolled in agony before desiccating; and then his whole body turned to sand, collapsing into the path.

Severus watched, blank-eyed and expressionless. The skirts of his robe ruffled suddenly as a wind came from nowhere to sweep Malfoy's remains out of the hall towards the beach, where they were scattered by the sea breeze.

Moody stared after them, stunned. Behind him, Severus sank to the floor of the cave, and began to weep.

It was just under three hours later, and the summer sun was shining brightly. Harry and Lupin walked in silence from the tube station back to the house in Grimmauld Place.

Harry felt numb. There seemed something indecent, improper, about the speed with which Sirius' last wishes had been executed. In a small office on the first floor of Gringotts Bank, he and Lupin had learned that they were the only beneficiaries of Sirius' will. Lupin was to receive a sizeable annuity for the rest of his life, while everything else went to Harry.

And that was it. Nothing else to be said. A couple of scrolls detailing everything Harry now owned, plus the keys to the several vaults which contained the Black family fortune. Harry clenched his fist around the keys in his pocket until they sliced his skin, while somewhere deep inside he screamed. Sirius deserved more than this. But this was all there was.

Lupin opened the door, and Harry trailed inside, out of the sunlight and into the gloom of Sirius' house. It's my house, now, he told himself. Lupin shut the door, and Harry felt the dark engulf him.

Snape stood barefoot on the beach, gazing out to sea with agonised eyes. The light was failing, and Moody wondered how long he had stayed here after Octavian Malfoy died. Above him, the first of the stars began to shine in the early night sky. Then Severus looked up, hands clutching at the oily hair; and the sky abruptly changed.

A confusion of sounds and images broke across the space over Moody's head. Anzori Snape snarled his disapproval and disappointment; Lucius Malfoy smiling, handsome, gazed down with a look of deepest love and said, 'The stupid little boy thinks I'm his friend. This is couldn't be easier, Father'. A small girl in a strange headdress held a china-headed doll and smiled; Moody had a fleeting impression of a huge horned figure rearing up behind her before she faded into blood red shadow. Dark figures, cloaked and hooded, fanned out around a central figure who lowered his cowl with pallid fingers and spoke in a high-pitched whisper, 'There are two. We will kill the Aurors' first.'

Severus threw back his head and screamed.

The sky went dark, the scene contracting until there was nothing but Severus kneeling in a patch of sand, choking and gasping for breath. Then suddenly there was a new sound, an anxious little voice.

'Severus Snape! Are you ill? Is there anything Dobby can do, Severus Snape?'

The darkness receded, and Moody saw that they were back in Malfoy Manor, back in Octavian's study. Severus still knelt on the floor, his arms clutched around his stomach. He looked up and around, and the scene expanded to reveal a house-elf gazing at him with huge, bulbous green eyes. Moody gave a quiet snort. So that's why the elf had seemed familiar!

'Dobby?' Severus stared dazedly at the little creature. He closed his eyes and sat back, cross-legged on the floor. 'Dobby… I've killed the master.'

Dobby recoiled, horrified and speechless. Severus looked at him, blank-eyed. 'Dobby. I have to leave. I've suddenly realised… I can't stay here. I can't go on here.' He lurched awkwardly to his feet and over to the wall which concealed the smaller study, half falling against it as he placed his hands on the hidden door. The wall faded, and Severus tumbled inside, the little house-elf scampering after him. Moody frowned. He couldn't work out what it was Severus had done to open it.

Inside, Severus grabbed a wooden box Moody hadn't previously noticed. Into it he shoved every scroll and piece of parchment he could find, jamming the lid closed. Then, with a wave of his wand, he shrank the whole thing to the size of a matchbox. He picked it up with clumsy fingers, then turned to leave.

'Severus Snape…' Dobby spoke in a voice that was suddenly forlorn, not frightened.

Severus turned, and crouched down so he was almost level with the little elf. 'I would free you if I could,' he said, his eyes sad. 'But I cannot. Although you must do as I say because I am employed by the household, only those who own you can free you. I am truly sorry, Dobby.'

Dobby bowed his head. Severus scooped him up with a gentleness that surprised Moody, and carried him out of the room. The door closed, apparently by itself, and Severus set the elf down on the floor.

'I'm going to Alastor Moody,' Severus whispered to him. 'I will give him everything he has been searching for, and the Ministry will come and arrest Lucius. You will no longer need to fear him.'

Dobby looked up at him with a fresh look of terror. 'The One-Eyed Wizard!'

Severus stared back, dull resignation in his eyes. 'Who better? Who else in the Ministry can see the Malfoys for what they are? It doesn't matter any more, Dobby. I no longer have any reason to fear him.'

He got up, slipping the little wooden box into his pocket, and went over to the desk and spent a few minutes rummaging through the drawers selecting various sheets of parchment. He folded them up, stuffed them into another pocket, then turned back to the elf.

'Make sure the house is clean and that there is no obvious sign that anything has changed. If Lucius and Narcissa return sooner than expected, there is no reason for them to think that you know anything. If they ask you, then I order you to pretend you know nothing. Understood?'

Dobby nodded sadly.

Severus gazed at him for a long moment. Then the room dissolved, and Moody caught a glimpse of a dark alleyway before the memory faded into the familiar grey fog.

Lupin squeezed Harry's shoulder. 'Well, at least it's over, now.'

A flame of anger crawled in Harry's stomach. Was that all it meant to him? He shrugged Lupin's hand off his shoulder and moved towards the stairs, fighting the fury down with a deep breath.

'You said you wanted to see that book,' he said, in a voice that was slightly too loud. 'I'll just go and get it, shall I?'

He ran upstairs without waiting for an answer, and into his room where he threw himself down on the bed with a sense of relief. Right now he just wanted to be on his own. He closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out his feelings as easily as his view of the ceiling.

The fog cleared, and Moody found himself standing in a sitting room, curtained against the night and lit by the friendly glow of an open fire and a couple of soft lamps. For a moment he grappled with a peculiar sense of a double-image: he was looking at somewhere which seemed familiar, but there was another memory – his own – fighting to superimpose itself. Then, with a nasty jolt, he realised why.

That wall opposite the window, with the pretty, patterned wallpaper… drenched in blood, four long, deep lines scored so deep the brick underneath was damaged… That nice, forest green carpet, deep-piled and soft… soaking in blood so it welled up over his shoes and stained the hem of his robes as he walked across it towards …

… that boy, in his long black Death Eater cloak, holding a two year old child at wand-point, visceral hate burning in his eyes as the child's parents lay silent in the morass of blood…

…sitting in his silken robes, hunched in a chair by the window, a pile of parchment on the table in front of him.

Frank Longbottom sat opposite Snape, his handsome face serious as he stared at the parchment. Severus seemed to have almost shut down. His eyes, fixed on the table cloth, were utterly blank, empty of any emotion. Moody had an impression they had been sitting like that for a while. Then the door opened. Alice, with her young son sleeping against her shoulder, came in, followed by Albus Dumbledore.

Frank looked round with a slight start, and rose to greet Dumbledore with an unmistakeable look of relief on his face. Moody felt a peculiar jealousy stir inside. Why hadn't Frank called him? Why Dumbledore?

'Dumbledore! Thanks for coming. Have a seat.' Frank gestured to the chair he had vacated, and Moody noted with interest that Severus looked anything but pleased to see his old Headmaster. Frank glanced from Dumbledore to Severus as he spoke, then frowned. Severus' gaze had flickered to a space just over his shoulder, suddenly becoming intense. Frank turned to see Alice standing just inside the room, still holding Neville, somehow excluded from what was going on.

'Alice,' said Frank, and his voice had a curt tone that Moody couldn't remember him using before. 'Shouldn't you be getting Neville to bed? It's late.' Alice gave him a sharp look, and left, the door snapping closed behind her. Frank turned back to Snape and Dumbledore, the faint look of annoyance subsiding as he drew up a third chair. Snape was once more staring at the table, but now he looked angry.

'Well,' Dumbledore said brightly. 'This is a surprise, Severus. What brings you here tonight?'

There was a short silence before Severus spoke. 'I've already told Frank,' he said sulkily without looking up. 'I wish to speak to Alastor Moody. I have information which he requires.'

Dumbledore regarded him with kindly eyes. 'I'm sure you do,' he replied gently. 'However, Alastor would see you in Azkaban within the hour. He would only have to look at your left arm for all the proof he needs, would he not?'

Severus looked up sharply, meeting Dumbledore's gaze with an intense look. 'Yes,' he said jerkily. 'But I have come here to surrender. I do not deny that I am a Death Eater. I deserve Azkaban. But no one else believes the Malfoys are guilty. Octavian has bought his immunity from the Ministry, and the evidence Moody needs to breach it has, until now, been out of his reach.'

Moody watched the scene intently. Dumbledore's gaze was locked into Snape's and it was clear that Severus was beginning to lose control. How good at hiding his thoughts was he when he was really upset?

'This is true,' Dumbledore replied in the same quiet, sympathetic voice. 'But why are you handing it over now, Severus? I thought the Malfoy's were your friends. They have been very good to you, haven't they? After your father died…'

Severus' jaw tightened, and he covered his face with one hand. He screwed his eyes shut, but two hot tears forced their way out before he could regain control. Frank looked away, a mixture of sympathy and slight embarrassment on his face. But Dumbledore sat back slightly, and Moody thought he discerned the faintest look of triumph in the bright blue eyes. How much of what had happened had Dumbledore managed to discover during this interview?

Dumbledore rummaged through his pockets and drew out a huge white handkerchief, crumpled but clean. He reached across to Severus and pushed it into his free hand. 'Come now,' he said gently. 'There are other ways of bringing down the Malfoys, you know. Better ways.'

Severus buried his face in the handkerchief for a moment before looking up with a glare. 'I don't need your help to deal with the Malfoys, I'm not here for them,' he hissed, and glanced at Frank. 'The Dark Lord is planning to attack you and your family. He believes that your child is one of two who might be able to defeat him. He has discovered a prophecy which predicts this, and he is planning to kill all of you.'

'The Dark Lord has always been after us –' Frank began, but Moody noticed that the bright light in Dumbledore's eyes had abruptly disappeared.

'What prophecy is this, Severus?' he asked in a sharper voice. 'How long have you known?'

' "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…" 'Severus quoted. 'I found out last week when the Dark Lord called us all to a meeting. It is rare for us all to be called together; usually he sees us in small groups. This was important. He believes this prophecy is true, and he intends to kill any child to whom it might refer.'

Dumbledore and Frank were silent. Moody studied them carefully. It was clear that they already knew about the Prophecy; of course they would, since Albus had witnessed the entire thing, worked out which children might be its subject, and alerted the Order. Severus seemed unaware of this, however. He seemed suddenly deflated, and once more stared at the table, looking lost and depressed.

'Severus,' Dumbledore said at last; and his voice was no longer gentle, but businesslike. 'Why did you come here tonight? No lies, boy; the truth.'

Severus looked up, shocked; and once again his gaze seemed locked by Dumbledore's. 'I intended to surrender to the Auror Moody. I couldn't find him, so I came here.' His nostrils flared as if he had suddenly realised the tacit accusation. 'I have no intention of killing anyone. If I had, I would already have done so.'

Dumbledore stared deep into his eyes. 'Why do you want to surrender?'

Severus' mouth trembled. 'I am not a child killer,' he whispered.

'But you are a murderer, aren't you?' Dumbledore's voice was as soft as brushed steel.

Severus gazed back with intense eyes. In them Moody could see the desire to run, to deny, to justify, all fighting with the decision to confess and accept the consequences. All because Severus really would not kill a child? Or because of what he had discovered about Octavian Malfoy's part in the death of his father's family?

'Yes,' Severus breathed at last. 'I am a murderer. A killer who tortured and slaughtered innocent muggles because the Dark Lord commanded it.'

The cold dark eyes bored into Dumbledore's steady blue gaze as if challenging him to recoil; but Dumbledore did not flinch. Instead he simply raised an eyebrow. 'And?'

Severus' gaze faltered. 'And because I wanted to,' he whispered to the tablecloth.

'Why?' Frank's voice held genuine puzzlement rather than horror.

Severus drew a ragged breath, the large nostrils flaring slightly. 'I hate them. I wish them all dead.'

'Even their children?' Moody thought he heard a faintly mocking tone in Dumbledore's voice; but Severus continued to examine the tablecloth and answered in a voice that was empty and tired.

'My father's entire family were murdered. By muggles; or so we believed. He always warned me not to trust anyone of non-magical blood, he said they were greedy for our power and would stop at nothing to get it, even though they lacked any ability to use it. They were amoral, worthless, less than animals.

'The Dark Lord also believes this. When I joined him, I thought I could at last avenge the murder done on my family, and help rid the world of such mindless evil forever. Every man or woman I killed utterly deserved to die. People who wouldn't think twice about sacrificing an innocent life if it might extend their own worthless span, begging me not to kill them.'

There was silence. Severus stared down at the tablecloth, eyes wide and blank. Frank looked truly revolted. Dumbledore, however, wore a shrewd expression as he waited for Snape to go on.

'I… realised that no muggle could have been responsible for what happened to my father's family', Severus continued at last. He propped his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands, hair falling across his face in long tendrils. 'But I didn't believe any true, pure blooded wizard could have been involved. Halfbloods, mudbloods… not a pureblood who brought the killers to my father's home. They all deserved death; and the Dark Lord would bring it to them. I was proud to serve him.'

'What made you change your mind?' Frank asked. Moody smiled to himself. Most Aurors practiced the subtle interrogation technique of manipulating a subject to say more than intended. Frank had always preferred the direct approach, and Moody had always respected him for it. He had always suspected that in some cases, it was more effective.

'We killed Regulus Black,' Severus said in a flat voice. 'The Dark Lord said he had betrayed us. He was a pureblood. I did not understand how he could possibly be a traitor. He did not care for killing, but that was just squeamishness, not a rejection of the cause…'

Severus' voice trailed off. There was a listening silence as Dumbledore and Frank waited for him to go on. 'Then, just a few days later, the Dark Lord summoned us and revealed the prophecy.'

'And that was it? You just decided you'd had enough and you were going?' Frank sounded disbelieving. Severus suddenly seemed to focus.

'I don't care what you think, Frank! You know what I am, I am not denying it! I am asking for no favours, no mercy. Only to give myself up, and to give Auror Moody the information he needs to arrest the Malfoys.'

Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle. 'I think you want more than that, Severus,' he said quietly, as the two of them looked at him in surprise. 'I think you want revenge as badly as you ever did. All that has changed is your perception of who is guilty.

'What if I could offer you a way of bringing down the Malfoys… and the Dark Lord… permanently?'

Severus gazed at him, his face tight.

'Surrender is such an easy option, isn't it?' Dumbledore continued softly. 'Give yourself up, confess your soul to Auror Moody, and … then what?' He fixed Severus with a knowing gaze, and in the dark eyes Moody saw the conflict. Had Severus realised, even as he considered the consequences of spending the rest of his life in Azkaban, that Dumbledore knew about his secret destiny? Had he actually considered it himself before leaving Malfoy Manor? Moody had a suspicion he had not. But he was certainly thinking about it now. There was a sudden hopelessness in his face as he turned to stare once more at the table, a look of utter despair.

And Dumbledore watched the internal fight with an expression of satisfaction. Moody studied him intently. You've got him, haven't you, you wily devil? he thought. You knew all the buttons to push, and the poor kid didn't stand a chance. Any more than he did with Voldemort.

'There is another solution, Severus,' Dumbledore said, after giving Severus time to consider the facts of his life as they currently appeared. 'Go back to the Malfoys. Continue with your life as a Death Eater and as a member of Octavian's staff. And tell me everything that happens from now on.'

Severus stared at him. 'Spy on the Dark Lord for you?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'What you have told us tonight is valuable, and we are not at all ungrateful. And I observe that you have taken an enormous risk in doing so. You have already witnessed the fate of those Voldemort believes to be traitors, and yet you betray him. Whatever your true reasons, this is an act of great courage.

'However, you came here tonight because you wished to save the life of an innocent child. I would ask: would you save this one and stand by while others die? For do not doubt, Severus, we are powerless to stop him. You have done a brave thing in warning us; but you have saved no one.

Moody watched Severus' face. From despair to hope to something which looked almost like panic as Dumbledore finished speaking. Moody suddenly realised he no longer doubted Snape's commitment to the Order. He would have to think carefully on all he had witnessed in the Pensieve to decide exactly what Snape's reasons for turning had been, but that his conversion had been total… Moody found himself suddenly convinced.

Severus' eyes now burned with passionate determination as he held Dumbledore's gaze. 'I'll do anything you ask of me,' he whispered.

The scene faded.

Harry sat cross-legged on the bed. The books, scrolls and translator thing lay in a tangled heap with the sheets and blankets. He began desultorily sorting everything out when there came a soft knock at the door. He sighed. 'Come in.'

Lupin pushed the door open, two bottles of butterbeer in his hand. 'I thought I'd save you the trouble of lugging a heavy book down to the kitchen,' he said lightly. 'If Severus' book is the unedited version of the one Dumbledore brought you, it must be quite big.'

He sat down on the end of the bed with a gentle smile and held out a bottle. Harry took it with a muttered thanks, and shunted the book towards Lupin who opened it with an look of interest. Then he frowned.

'Oh yeah,' said Harry, remembering. 'You'll need this to read it…'

He grabbed the translator as it was about to slide off the bed, and handed it over. As Lupin opened the book and began to read, Harry picked up the scrolls. A copy of Sirius' will, a list of deeds and titles, a bank statement with Saturday's date on it… a fat scroll with a broken seal.

Harry frowned. He remembered that one from earlier, but hadn't given it much thought; but now he realised he had no idea what it was. He unrolled it carefully, a stiff bundle of long, yellowing sheets of parchment. His eyes widened as he read the first few lines.

Just a note to say: I'm going to try posting double chapters from now on, probably on the Friday. Should have it all up by the time HBP is published. Twenty-one days to go!

S.

24th June 2005