The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter 30

Moody sat at the table and brooded at the Pensieve without really seeing it. Snape was asleep, curled on top of the covers. Another hour before his next dose. Time to think, to try and make sense of everything reeling through his brain. If Moody's world had seemed to turn sideway with the revelations of the Pensieve, it was nothing to how he felt after his earlier conversation with Dumbledore.

The meeting in the kitchen had ended shortly after he arrived. Lupin had taken Harry back up to his room; Tonks and Shacklebolt had returned to the Ministry. Minerva had gone to visit Snape; Moody already knew he would never tell her the truth about Alice's lost baby. She hid it well, but Minerva's grief was as raw as his, and unlike him, she cared just as much about Snape as she did about Alice and Frank. It was unfair, he felt, that he couldn't feel the same way, now he knew the truth. But long held beliefs took some unseating, and Moody knew he would need time to come to terms with everything he had learned in Severus Snape's Pensieve.

Albus Dumbledore had remained where he was as everyone left. Moody settled himself in a chair opposite, and together they waited until the door was closed and the sounds of the others had disappeared before speaking.

'How was your journey through Severus' memories?' Dumbledore enquired in a cool voice. Moody regarded him thoughtfully.

'It was very interesting,' he said eventually. 'It may please you to know that I intend to let him go, having satisfied myself that he was innocent of the attack on the Longbottoms.'

Even if it was because of him they had fallen, he added silently. Did that still make it his fault? In a way, it did. But by that reckoning, was it any less the fault of Alastor Moody? Snape thought it so, on both counts. But he wasn't looking for revenge, or even absolution for its own sake. Moody found himself unsure of what that realisation meant, and put the thought aside.

'I've returned him his memories, and he seems to be making an excellent physical recovery,' he continued. 'I'm not too sure about his mental state, however.'

Dumbledore nodded slowly, his gaze trained on the table. Moody watched him, suddenly aware of how old the Headmaster looked, worn out and in need of peace.

'I failed them, you know,' Dumbledore said quietly.

Moody frowned. 'No you didn't,' he replied bluntly. 'What makes you think you did?'

Dumbledore gave a tired smile. 'Severus was bullied mercilessly at school, and I never noticed. It forced him into unsuitable company and down a path he would never have taken, had he truly known where it led.'

Moody waited, but no more came; so he asked. 'Why didn't you notice? Not just you, but Minerva as well.'

Dumbledore closed his eyes. 'Severus has always been a closed book to me. In all the time I have known him, since he was eleven, I have never had the slightest idea what he is thinking unless he tells me. All the times I have spoken to him about his fights with James and Sirius, and I had no idea now deeply it was affecting him. He always fought back so well, and was quite as defiant as either of them.'

Moody nodded thoughtfully. 'Well it's clear he's extremely powerful, and has been from an early age. He's intelligent and he's taught himself a great deal. And he actively plays on other people's assumptions about him. So you can hardly blame yourself if you misunderstood him.'

Dumbledore gave a shaky laugh, and Moody felt a slight chill. He could not remember a time when Albus didn't seem entirely in control of himself; now he seemed almost on the brink of despair.

'I didn't believe him, Alastor,' Dumbledore whispered. 'He warned me Harry was in danger from Quirrel, and I didn't believe him. Not until it was almost too late did I realise he was right. He told me he believed there was something wrong with you while the impostor was teaching my students in your place – and I didn't believe him.'

'Yet you believed him about the Lestranges and Crouch?' Moody probed quietly. A chunk of conversation seemed to have gone missing somewhere in Dumbledore's answers, but he let it go. There was something badly wrong here somewhere, and he realised he would have to be patient if he wanted to know what it was.

'Oh yes,' Dumbledore replied. 'Severus was devastated by what happened to Frank and Alice. He risked everything to save them both, and then at the last he failed them.'

Moody's frown deepened. 'Do you really think so?'

Dumbledore gazed at him with equanimity. 'I believe that Severus regards himself as having failed them. He was so distraught when he came to us, sixteen years ago, so determined that he should be punished for his crimes, and desperate to save an innocent child. How else would he regard their attack, but as his failure?'

'He was in love with Alice Longbottom!' Moody burst out, unable to stop himself. 'This wasn't just some selfish sense of failure…' he broke off. The expression on Dumbledore's face hadn't altered, but a void had suddenly opened up in the depths of the bright blue eyes.

'Severus plays on people assumptions about him,' Dumbledore murmured softly, and his voice held only the slightest tremor. 'Yes, that would make sense. So much easier to lie about what you really are when you simply allow people to believe what they want. Was Alice in love with him?'

Moody looked at him. He could have bitten out his tongue for telling Dumbledore about Alice and Snape; but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He considered the question carefully. No point avoiding the truth now; but what did he really think? Memories were subjective; people remembered the things they wanted to and tried to avoid the things they didn't. And particularly unpleasant memories could be repressed altogether. Was Alice's love for him something Severus remembered because he wanted it to be true?

No. He remembered, now he put his mind to it, that Alice had been unhappy for ages after she returned to work. And then one day she had been so very happy, and Moody had assumed she and Frank had made up their differences. It had been shortly after their first big arrest based on the new, accurate information that had suddenly surfaced from somewhere. But now he knew where that information had come from, and if he thought hard and carefully about it, he did recall that Alice's joy had not been shared by Frank.

If anything, selective memory was what he, Moody, was guilty of, not Snape.

'Yes,' he replied simply.

'Severus is a good man,' said Dumbledore in the same quiet, distant voice. 'He's a better man than I am, Alastor.

Moody opened his mouth to say something, but Dumbledore began to speak, and the need to unburden himself was unmistakeable.

'When James and Lily were killed, who mourned them? The night they died was marked by celebrations – because Voldemort was gone, defeated by their infant son. Who cared that two young people, barely out of childhood themselves, had been murdered? Who cared that their orphaned son would grow up in a family which hated him and everything about him? What did any of us care, except that the Boy Who Lived had defeated Voldemort, and might well do so again?'

Moody said nothing. He listened, more intently than he had ever listened to anyone.

'I returned Harry his father's invisibility cloak in his first year at Hogwarts, and it was instrumental in allowing his first encounter with Voldemort. How proud I was of him when he triumphed! But Severus was horrified. He said that I had allowed him the means to get into terrible trouble; that he could have easily died. But he had already survived certain death, I told him; and one day he would have to face Voldemort. I wasn't risking Harry's life; I was preparing him. And he had proved himself immensely worthy: why should we assume he would necessarily die? So I told myself, refusing to look at the point Severus was making.'

'Which was?' Moody interjected.

'That risking the life of a child made us no better than Voldemort. I argued that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few; how many children would we save?'

Moody said nothing. Another boy, wanted only by those who supposedly cared for him, because the sacrifice of his life might save theirs. Yes, he could understand how Snape would have been horrified.

'In the Department of Mysteries two months ago, I faced Voldemort in battle. We duelled, and he was weak; and then suddenly I had the chance to kill him. Kill him, and end the war before it began, saving untold lives.

'And I did not do it. Because killing Voldemort meant killing Harry. He had possessed him, and tried to trick me into killing him, thinking that if I killed Harry, he would be free. But what he did not realise is that the link between himself and Harry is so profound that, should one of them possess the body of the other and that body should die, then he will die also.

'Until I pointed my wand at Harry and knew that killing him would destroy Voldemort for good, I thought I could actually do it. In that final moment, I realised I could not.'

Moody felt something in his brain disconnect; for a moment he felt as if he were floating. Dumbledore suddenly seemed so very far away.

'In the days that followed, I finally understood something else Severus had been trying to tell me, something that he had quietly suspected for a while and which he felt had been confirmed during those events in the Department of Mysteries.

'At moments of extreme emotion, Harry and Voldemort are joined, just as they were when Voldemort possessed him. And, at any of those moments, killing Harry would also kill Voldemort. And vice versa.'

Moody stared at Dumbledore in disbelief, his heart thudding. 'Do you seriously mean that… killing Harry is all it takes to kill Voldemort?'

Something dark flamed in the depths of Dumbledore's eyes. 'Under certain conditions, yes. And those conditions were met when Voldemort possessed Harry. Those conditions are also met whenever a channel opens between Harry's mind and that of Voldemort, something which, as Severus realised, was happening with increasing frequency. The means to kill Voldemort is in our hands.'

Moody was silent, his mind reeling. If he had ever wondered why such a powerful wizard as Snape had not challenged Voldemort himself, this was surely the answer.

But if the wizarding world ever got the idea that killing Harry Potter would destroy the Dark Lord once and for all… the boy's life would be over. And Albus… actually considered killing a child…?

He looked at Dumbledore, his oldest friend, with a sense of terrible grief.

'Snape ran away,' he growled, 'to cast a spell to make sure those conditions were never met. And we broke it.'

Severus opened his eyes and found himself gazing at the ceiling, the covers drawn up to his chin. The room was becoming dark, and he realised he must have slept for several hours, although it felt like only a moment since he closed his eyes. He caught a sound, just to his right, and turned his head.

Alastor Moody closed the heavy, leather-bound book he had been reading, and gave Severus a shrewd look.

'Are you awake, now?' the old wizard asked, and his voice seemed much gentler than it had earlier. Severus gazed back, feeling empty and defeated. Moody came to sit on the edge of his bed, shuffling awkwardly so he could get his wooden leg into a comfortable position. The magical eye spun madly, until the blue was no longer visible. Severus was momentarily fascinated, and allowed himself to wonder, irrelevantly, if it had been painful, enlarging the eye socket to accommodate that massive orb. The normal eye fixed him with a penetrating stare, and Severus' mental defences automatically slid into place. Moody's ugly face arranged itself into what Severus decided must be as close as he could get to a smile.

'Definitely feeling better, eh? You'll be pleased to know I've already given you your latest dose. So, nothing to interrupt the rest of our interview.'

Severus turned back to the ceiling.

'You just don't give up, do you?' he whispered.

'No. Stubborn, me.'

Severus felt his lip curl contemptuously in an automatic movement. 'The word should be "stupid". '

No answer.

Severus turned towards Moody, and was caught by the look in the normal eye. The anger and hostility had gone, and something else had taken their place, an expression he could not identify.

'Something I want to say, before we go any further,' the old man said gruffly. 'Severus Snape: I apologise to you, absolutely, for any belief I may have had that you were guilty of any wrong-doing after you left the Dark Lord. I apologise for any injury or distress I have caused you, and freely offer you, from now on, any gift of friendship you may need or wish.'

Severus stared at him, stunned and speechless.

Moody looked away from him suddenly, his normal eye glittering.

'I've been wrong about a lot of things,' he muttered. 'I can only hope I haven't done too much damage.'

He turned back, and met a piercing gaze from Snape. He gave a small smile. 'Don't try your mental tricks on me, lad,' he said. 'You're more powerful than I ever was, but I've been a wizard far longer than you, and I'll always know a few things you don't. Power's no good if you don't know how to use it.'

Severus turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

Moody sat down on the edge of his bed and rested his hand on Snape's other side so they were facing each other.

'That spell you cast on Potter, to keep the Dark Lord out,' he said. 'Any plans to try it again? It was the combination of that and your "atonement" that almost killed you. And I had to break it in order to save your life and Potter's.'

Severus gave him a ferocious glare. 'You stupid, ignorant old man!' he hissed. 'YOU were the one who almost killed me! If you hadn't been there, Dobby would have taken me home and I would have healed myself! But you had to get in the way and wreck everything!'

Moody's normal eye narrowed. 'What do you mean? You can heal yourself? Why haven't you, then?'

'Because your bloody wards are in the way!' Severus spat. 'They cut off my connection to the outside world, and thus to my father's house. I have no inherent power to heal – it's the house– '

'But that didn't work on your hand, you said it bled for weeks–'

'That's different! That didn't heal because the demon was keeping it open.' Severus gave a small gasp, as if the sudden anger had taken all his energy. Moody stayed where he was, thinking about what Snape had said.

'Your fingernails…' he mused. 'They're short normally, but your ghost has long nails. In Frank's house you made them grow like cat's claws.'

'I made them heal to the length I prefer to have them,' Severus said in small voice, looking miserable. 'Not really practical for school.'

Moody nodded slowly. 'So… when I release you… you'll heal? And go back home to finish whatever you were doing.'

Severus swallowed and turned back to face him. 'Yes.'

Moody sat back. 'Okay then,' he said thoughtfully. 'But I want you to take this book back with you. Potter's too fragile to be offered this kind of magic.'

A burning look appeared in Severus' eyes. 'So you noticed, then?'

Moody raised an eyebrow.

'Your stupid obsession with me, when there's someone under your nose who needs your help. That boy has been through hell, and none of you give a damn, do you?' From somewhere deep inside, swallowed and forgotten about, some stray part of Harry's grief and loneliness welled up in a bubble of self-pity. He burst into tears and turned his head aside as a wave of misery shook him head to toe.

Moody watched silently at him for a while. 'Don't worry about Potter,' he said quietly. 'I'll make sure he's all right.'

'He needs a family who care about him, who love and support him…' Severus sobbed.

'Yes,' murmured Moody, getting up and moving to the end of the bed. 'And if you'd had those things, you'd have never turned to the Dark Lord, would you?'

Severus raked back his self-control with an effort. 'No,' he glowered. 'And Potter could go the same way I did. Kill one dark lord and another rises up. How bad was Grindelwald?'

Moody gazed down at him, and concentrated. The pattern of his wards revealed themselves to him, and he withdrew his wand. 'Severus Snape,' he said, and touched his wand to the oldest node in the web which bound his prisoner, 'you are free to go.'

Severus took a deep, shuddering breath, then sat up in one fluid motion. He met Moody's gaze with a look of defiant triumph, then flung back the bed clothes and stood up. He swayed on his feet for a moment, as if he had got up too fast, his wasted body slightly hunched. Then, as Moody watched…

… the papery skin began to moisten and expand, swelling until the bones were hidden by a healthy layer of flesh. He straightened up slowly, and as he did so, Moody could see sinewy muscle stretch and flex in the long arms and legs; he raised his arms over his head and stretched a body that was lean, athletic and strong.

There was a moment of stillness. Severus turned slowly to face Moody, and there was a look of triumph on a face that was no longer gaunt, but sculpted and somehow younger. Snape took a deep breath, rubbing the long fingers of his good hand across his shaven scalp – and black hair began to grow, flowing like water out of his head until it hung in a glossy cloak down to his waist. Moody gazed in silence at the transformation. Only one thing was missing.

'What about your arm?' he asked. 'Don't you want that back?'

Severus raised both arms and flexed his fingers, long-nailed once more, one flesh and one spirit. 'Not yet,' he said quietly.

'I'd still like to discuss one or two things with you before you go,' said Moody quietly. Severus picked up his book and sat down on the bed. He looked at Moody through a glossy veil of oily hair, and said, 'Yes?'

'That spell you cast on Potter is broken. Without it, he's vulnerable to the Dark Lord; and, according to Albus, anyone who finds out it might be possible to kill the Dark Lord by killing Harry at a point when their emotions join their minds.' Moody stared deep into Severus' inscrutable eyes and wondered how much he should say.

'The Headmaster and I have often disagreed about Harry Potter,' Severus said softly, looking down at the cover of his father's book. 'I thought he should have protected him more. Instead, he allowed him to flout rules, and do what he pleased, and risk his life wantonly at every opportunity.

'I told him I thought him cruel and irresponsible. That no child should bear the responsibility he seemed to think he owned; that he had lived quite safely in the muggle world and could go on doing so, and that bringing him to Hogwarts would put him into danger. After he almost died fighting the Dark Lord at the end of his first year, I felt entirely vindicated in my belief. So vindicated that I tried to stop him returning for his second year.'

'How?' Moody asked.

Severus gave a small laugh. 'By using what was left of my influence over the Malfoys' house-elf to find some way of keeping him getting to Hogwarts. We almost succeeded. Dumbledore was furious with me.

'Until a few months ago, I believed that Dumbledore was entirely prepared to sacrifice Potter for the cause. So many people do terrible things because they think it's for the best.' Severus' voice suddenly seemed small. 'I did terrible things because I thought it was for the best. But when the chance came, when the opportunity to bring down the Dark Lord came at precisely the price I feared – he weighed up the pros and cons and chose not to become a murderer.'

Severus turned his head and caught Moody unawares with a sharp, penetrating look. There was a moment's silence, then he said, 'You thought Dumbledore seriously considered murdering the innocent. I spent years thinking he would. And we were both wrong. Potter has nothing to fear from Dumbledore.'

Moody said nothing for a moment. He had actually felt Severus sweep through his mind, like a cool sharp blade passing straight through his brain. It had not hurt and had been over in seconds, but it felt as weird as hell.

'What about the rest of the wizarding world?' he managed at last. 'If anyone ever works out…'

'They won't,' Severus replied sharply. 'No one else knows, or understands, what's going on. And Potter has now finally mastered the necessary skills at Occlumency to keep the Dark Lord out.'

He rose to his feet wearing a severe expression, the huge book clasped against his chest.

'Potter needs a father,' he said. 'He needs someone to trust and confide in, someone who will guide him. Not someone who sees him as their saviour.'

Moody nodded. 'That can be arranged,' he said. 'But what about you? There's no need to run any more. Shacklebolt's going to tell everyone I'm a mad old bat, you're innocent and that he's arresting someone else. I missed the part when he told us who, but after fourteen years I think I can manage a couple more days.' He gave Severus another shrewd look. 'I'm sure you're just as interested as I am.'

Severus' eyes were momentarily blank. Then he drew a long breath, his eyes narrowing on something Moody couldn't see. 'Yes,' he replied in a preoccupied voice. 'But there's something I have to do first.'

And in the next moment he had vanished.