Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her
characters are hers. Original characters are mine. Please see first
chapter for full disclaimers and description.
Thank you to my Beta Elaine!
Chapter 19: Seeking Answers
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Darkness enshrouded him like a palpable thing. He stalked the corridors, black robes billowing behind him. The characteristic sneer was firmly upon his face, and he longed to find a student out of House after curfew upon whom to vent some of his irritation.
Unfortunately for him, the hallways between Rowena Lupin's quarters and Albus Dumbledore's office were deserted. He snarled the password at the hideous gargoyle that guarded the entrance.
"My, aren't we in a bright and cheery mood this evening?" the stone monster commented.
"Shut up and move if you don't wish to be reduced to rubble, you worthless chunk of granite!" Snape barked, though the statue was already in motion.
It was quite indignant at the apparent slight to it's... um... heritage? "Granite? GRANITE?!? Did you accuse me of being GRANITE!?! I'll have you know I come from the finest marble known to...."
But the statue's tirade was lost as the spiral stairway began it's ascent, and Severus ignored it at any rate. There was little satisfaction to be gained by insulting a statue.
Albus was not in his office. A new door was there that was not a normal feature, and Severus passed through this as well. It led to a small padded room with a sparse bed and firmly barred windows. A wild and sickly appearing woman lay rigidly on the bed. Albus and Poppy were both present, tending to her. Severus merely regarded her in disgust.
"She's not well, Headmaster. I don't know how long we can keep her alive. Her mind is gone completely. St. Mungos really would be better for her. I just don't have the skills for this kind of illness," Poppy said worriedly, neither of them acknowledging Severus at the moment.
Albus sighed and shook his head. "We'll just have to do the best we can, Poppy. There is too much risk. If we return her to St. Mungos, word would eventually leak of her presence. Nymphadora's life would be immediately forfeit. There's nowhere else that's completely secure where we can tend her. It will have to be here."
"If she dies, Tonks will be found out immediately as well," Severus said from where he leaned against the door.
They both looked at him questioningly, though neither appeared startled at his presence.
"The Dark Lord will feel her death. When he does, and 'sees' Claire Lestrange alive, he will know she is an imposter. She must be monitored closely. If her death is imminent, word must be sent to Tonks so she can use her Portkey or she will be killed instantly."
"There's nothing physically wrong with her that I can find," Poppy said in frustration, appealing to Severus, "she ought to be improving physically, even if her mind is gone. I don't understand it."
Severus shrugged. "She is mad. She wishes to be returned to her Master. She grieves over the loss of her Dark Mark that connected her to him, and is anguished that she is the one who dug it out of her own flesh. She is quite insane, Poppy. Insanity can be just as fatal as any other illness. We'll just have to keep her alive as long as we can."
He waved his wand and retrieved several potions bottles. "Strengthening draughts, healing draughts, and dreamless sleep potions. As long as she does not injure herself physically, her body should persist a while yet. The sleeping potions will be less harmful than paralyzing charms you're currently using, though I suppose you have to paralyze her to treat her."
"Of course," Poppy said, affronted. "I don't generally go around hexing my patients, Severus. Thank you for the potions. I'm sure I can deal with this from here."
And so saying, she chivvied both men out of the room.
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Albus had been regarding Severus with grave concern ever since he entered the patient's room. Severus seldom deliberately sought him out, especially late in the evening, and he was concerned for the reason. Once the door to the concealed room had been closed and sealed, he turned his piercing gaze fully onto Severus.
"Do I need to summon the Order?" he asked at once.
Severus shook his head in disgust and retreated to the window seat that always managed to appear when he particularly wanted to avoid the Headmaster's searching gaze.
"No, Albus. Unfortunately, my problem at the moment seems to be of a more... personal nature. Not something I'm willing to discuss with any other Order members, I assure you," he said dryly.
Albus relaxed at once, and the amused twinkle found it's way into his eyes. There was so much worry and stress over horrific things these days. This was a pleasant diversion to say the least. He was pleased beyond words to think that this young man whom he had come to regard so highly was at last tasting a little of the pleasanter things in life, even if that tasting did have the poor boy in obvious turmoil.
"Well, then, Severus. May I offer you a drink? How can I help you?" he asked.
"Brandy. I do not know how to make Rowena Lupin realize that I am not worthy of her affections. I wish to release her from our charade at once, and for you to remove her from this school before she is seriously hurt. Put her at 12 Grimmauld with Remus for now. This is not working," he said, bluntly.
Albus was silent as he walked over and provided Severus with a snifter containing a healthy measure of brandy. He then drew up a chair so that he was close to the window seat, gazing at his friend directly.
"I think we must start with your basic premise. Rowena Lupin is fond of you, and you do not believe yourself worthy of that regard? Please elaborate for me. I would like specifics. What is it that makes you so unworthy?"
Snape shot him a look of pure venom.
"You of all people know exactly why I am so unworthy! Has recent stress made you as daft and foolish as Fudge wants everyone to believe?" he spat, cruelly. "Or perhaps you would like to hear me once again detail every crime I have ever committed, as I once did to you before?"
Albus was implacably calm, listening. Severus sat staring out the window, trying to turn his body away from the older man as much as he could. He sipped his brandy in silence before he could continue. His voice had every drop of hateful, sarcastic bitterness he could squeeze into it.
"I am a Death Eater. I am a Murderer. I have tortured people. I have poisoned people. Why do you BOTH insist on pretending that never happened??"
He fell silent then, unable to articulate the self-loathing that filled him. His hands clenched tightly around the snifter and his body became rigid, as though he could physically pull his body into himself as much as he did his mind and emotions.
"Are you ready for my answer, my friend?" Albus asked once Severus had sat stewing for several long minutes. Snape turned to look at him in disbelief. He plainly did not think there was an 'answer' to his problem, his questions and rantings. He remained silent, though, and Albus waved his wand.
Two large file boxes appeared at his feet. One was black, the other white. Albus could be as subtle as anyone Severus knew. But he was also fond of obvious symbolism when demonstrations were needed.
"Do you remember what I asked you to do, Severus, that night over 17 years ago when you came to me with your confession? When you nearly begged me to give you over to the Dementors at once? Do you recall?" he asked with the air of Professor to student.
Snape answered in the same vein. His turmoil was such that any sense of normalcy was a welcome relief, even if it meant temporarily regressing to the student role. "Yes, Professor, you instructed me to write a detailed account of all my crimes. I was to give each victim his or her own page, provide names when possible, and head each page according to its crime—murder, poisoning, torture, etc."
"And did you comply with that request?" the Professor asked his student.
Oh yes, he had complied. He had poured his guilt onto those pages in horrific detail. Each word had felt as though he was engraving his own personal monument in Hell with the blood he'd shed.
"Yes, sir, and I have continued to do so when my work for the Order has made it unavoidable for me to perform my duties as a Death Eater," Severus the student replied.
"Very well," said Albus. "What you see here is a result of that work. The black box contains all of your 'crimes'. The white box is MY contribution. It details every life you've saved, every individual you've helped, every bit of torture you have endured personally in your work for the Order, every unrewarded deed you have done since your return.
"I have thinned the boxes over the years. Every time you have saved a life, I have paired my page with one of yours detailing a person of matching gender and similar age, and burned both pages. A life saved for a life taken, do you see? The same for your other 'crimes'."
"Albus...," Severus's voice began to rise in irritation, leaving his 'student' role once again, "It's not that simple, and you know it!"
"Severus, do not interrupt me," Albus admonished firmly, his wise blue eyes peering mercilessly at the younger man. "True, it is not that simple. No amount of forgiveness bestowed on you by others can replace the need for you to find peace within yourself.
"But you are the one who wants to quantify your guilt. I think that it might be a useful exercise to do precisely that. You prefer to analyze things as much as you can; to have physical evidence that can be weighed, measured, and carefully defined whenever possible. I know this about you, my friend. That is why I have kept careful track of these records all these years."
He pushed the boxes across the floor towards Severus.
"I want you to open those boxes now and see the accounting of your 'evil' deeds weighed against your redeeming ones," he said. It was not a request.
Severus's body was a tense as a tightly coiled spring as he moved to comply. His black eyes glittered darkly as he regarded those boxes, black and white. The obvious symbolism did not amuse him. With a sigh of trepidation—he was not at all certain he wanted to see what was inside—he waved his wand so that both boxes opened simultaneously.
The black one was empty, completely and utterly empty. The white one was more than half full. Even Severus in his bitter pessimism couldn't view it as 'half empty' as it stood next to the gaping void of the black box.
Several silent moments passed as he stared at the two boxes in disbelief. Then he picked up some of the files from the white box for examination. He expected to see nonsense fluff. "Passed Neville Longbottom when he deserved failure" and "Carried trunks for Minerva", or the like.
Instead they read exactly like the pages he had written... that he still wrote when necessary... agonizingly describing every detail.
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LIFE SAVED: Allyson Smith.
Age: 30, Gender: Female Bloodlines: Muggle Description: pregnant mother of two wizarding children, husband is a wizard.
Rapid action in warning Order Aurors prevented the raiding and burning of the Smith home when Mr. Smith was away on business and Mrs. Smith was home alone with the children. Severe punishment received by Severus due to his being suspected source of 'leak'.
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The box contained dozens of pages of similar documents. He could not refute the validity of a single one.
He would never feel completely free of the guilt; never stop hearing the screams of his victims in the silence of the night. But somehow seeing solid evidence of the results of his attempts to somehow repay what he had done... it did offer something of comfort.
He looked at Albus then, openly for an instant, and his anguished gaze met the compassionate one of his friend.
"I can't erase your sorrow and remorse, Severus," Albus said gently. "I can't change the past, anymore than you can. I can offer you my heartfelt assurance, whatever it may be worth... I believe in you. I believe are completely worthy of every drop of Rowena's affections.
"I'm keeping her here, of course," Albus continued in a lighter tone, "I need her research on the school shields. She is safer here. But I know that part of your request was simply out of your distress over the main issue."
Albus stood and placed a hand on Severus's shoulder and smiled at him gently, "You deserve to live your life, son. It is time to begin healing."
Severus could think of nothing to answer to that. He simply shook Albus's hand warmly and silently left the office, deep in thought.
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The remainder of that week and all of the next passed in a blur. Severus had "Order Business" several evenings and the weekend, and Rowena did not inquire. She felt all the shame of her cowardice, but she really didn't want to know more than she 'needed' to know. Nothing of the Gryffindor nosiness in her!
Harry came twice more for Occlumency the first week, and twice the second. Albus came during one session and expressed not only his approval that she had taught Harry Legilimency, but also his wish for Harry to strengthen that discipline as well. He apparently thought that Harry might have need of it, and that it would help improve Rowena's Occlumency in the process.
None of them were fully aware of the deep suspicion Harry held towards all of them. Snape in particular, of course, but whatever was going on, Harry felt all three of them were involved. He had decided after last year that never again would the adults in his life keep him in the dark as they had done. He had avoided eye contact with Albus all summer, and Snape... well, he always avoided Snape if he could. They knew he was angry, hurting and distrustful. They didn't realize the extent.
Harry had taken to avoiding his friends and his homework in favor of lurking near the potion's lab in his invisibility cloak.
Severus was often in the lab brewing. Any spare time he could find, he devoted to either researching new potions or preparing needed healing and strengthening draughts. St. Mungos was seeing more injuries. Muggle deaths were beginning to occur with alarming frequency. His primary current Death Eater role was to 'tend' to 'Claire Lestrange'. He did at last succeed in persuading the Dark Lord to move her to the Malfoy Manner, and so her danger decreased.
The school year prevented him being as closely involved with the Death Eaters other activities as he was during the summer, in any other capacity than treating 'Lestrange'. The Order now needed to rely more heavily on Tonks's information, filtered through Lupin as often as she could check in.
Remus Lupin looked like hell, but Snape didn't care. He hadn't bothered to exchange a word with the werewolf since the night of the feast, and he suspected Rowena hadn't spoken with him either. When he came to collect his potion, Snape made him do it through the house elves. He had no desire to deal with the mutant.
Rowena. Well, she was an entirely different problem. He had dealt with her by NOT dealing with her... trying to maintain his distance. He wasn't rude. In fact, he was painfully polite and played the role of attentiveness when they were at the staff table together for the sake of the students.
But he avoided being alone with her, and she did not press the issue. He visited Katrina while Rowena was in Occlumency with Harry. She visited Katrina while he was away on 'business'. He was grateful to her that she was so readily willing to give him the space he needed to simply consider what he wanted to happen there.
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Friday evening found him working in his lab, trying to finish an antidote that he believed would soon be needed. He actually hoped to go and find Rowena later, perhaps play a game of chess and just spend some time with her again. Wild dragons couldn't have dragged the admission from him, but he had missed her.
A knock on his door roused him at once. He scowled darkly at the student entering his domain after his office hours, uninvited. Still... appearances must be maintained.
"Yes, Draco, what is it?" he asked in his bored tones.
The self-appointed Slytherin Prince drawled lazily, "I've just received a note from my parents, Professor. Mother wants me to tell you that she's low on her restorative potion. She wonders how soon you can supply her with more?"
Snape's scowl darkened further, "I provided your mother with six-weeks worth of that potion barely more than three weeks ago, Draco. I did tell her that the ingredients would be hard to come by."
"Yes, Professor," said Draco with a smirk. "But of course my Auntie needed some, and then they have an ill friend whom they thought would benefit. My father says to tell you that he would be delighted to help you...er... acquire your ingredients if you need assistance."
Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. Bellatrix of course. And possibly they would have tried to supply some to 'Claire Lestrange'. The real Claire was a cousin of Bellatrix's husband after all. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. Bloody hell.
"I do not require assistance, Draco. Tell your parents I will deliver the potion Sunday," he said in bored tones.
Draco smirked and left the dungeon, and Severus sealed it. He was not possessed of a Magical Eye like Alastor Moody. He had no way of knowing that a certain invisibility-cloak-bedecked student was even now hunched in the corner of his lab, watching.
Harry had spent much of the last month of the summer between the Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place. And he had spent much of that time finding devious ways to learn what exactly was going on around him. No more secrets. He'd had enough of that, and their consequences, last year. Not again!
He had heard what had happened to Katrina. He was pretty sure he knew now what sort of potion it was that Narcissa wanted. Fred and George were involved in blocking shipments of some of the more questionable potions ingredients to Knockturn Alley. But they had told Harry that Snape was still to be given whatever ingredients he required, whenever he required them.
And he had heard Draco bragging about how close his parents were to Snape, how easy it was for them to get things they needed from Snape because of their connections. If Snape had already made the potion once since Katrina had been rescued, he would have had to find a replacement for the blood.
It was time to find out what it was that Snape was using as that replacement—if he was even using a replacement! Harry half-expected Snape to go and retrieve the child surreptitiously from her bed in the Burrow, and cut her vein or something while she slept.
The truth was almost as horrific.
As the blood flowed freely from Snape's own wrist held over his cauldron, Harry fought mightily not to be sick and reveal his presence. How long Snape allowed the cut to gush, he couldn't have said. But the increase in sickly pallor of Snape's face was plainly visible.
His Uncle Vernon had talked about blood drives at work, but had never donated, not wanting to make himself 'all weak and tired'. Harry also knew that they did these drives only once every 8 weeks. Apparently it was unsafe to do it more frequently.
Snape definitely allowed more than a pint of blood to flow into the cauldron. And it had been less than three weeks since he had last made the potion. Had he used his own blood that time as well?
At last Snape finished and stored the potion into small phials. He carefully wrapped them and locked them inside his private store cabinet, sealing it with several wards.
He then wearily made his way into his office where he literally flopped, very un-Snape-like into a chair, utterly exhausted. When Harry was certain he was sleeping—and not dead from his actions—he sneaked out the public door, very grateful he had paid close attention to the sealing charms Snape had used when he closed it.
Okay, he hated Snape. But he wasn't going to just let the greasy git kill himself by making a potion for that Malfoy woman. As far as Harry was concerned, that would just be allowing himself to sink to Snape's level. Besides, the Order needed him to spy or whatever. And Harry hadn't finished trying to figure out why the prat hated him so much. This certainly gave him much to think about as he hurriedly made his way back to his dorms.
Time to talk to Hermione and the Weasleys.
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A/N: We will see more of Harry in future chapters. The next chapter is written and will be posted in a day or two. Death Eaters attack _______________. Come see who survives! How's that for a cliffhanger?
I am so grateful for all the reviews—I can't tell you how much they make my day. Happy reading!
Lisa/Shanti
Thank you to my Beta Elaine!
Chapter 19: Seeking Answers
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Darkness enshrouded him like a palpable thing. He stalked the corridors, black robes billowing behind him. The characteristic sneer was firmly upon his face, and he longed to find a student out of House after curfew upon whom to vent some of his irritation.
Unfortunately for him, the hallways between Rowena Lupin's quarters and Albus Dumbledore's office were deserted. He snarled the password at the hideous gargoyle that guarded the entrance.
"My, aren't we in a bright and cheery mood this evening?" the stone monster commented.
"Shut up and move if you don't wish to be reduced to rubble, you worthless chunk of granite!" Snape barked, though the statue was already in motion.
It was quite indignant at the apparent slight to it's... um... heritage? "Granite? GRANITE?!? Did you accuse me of being GRANITE!?! I'll have you know I come from the finest marble known to...."
But the statue's tirade was lost as the spiral stairway began it's ascent, and Severus ignored it at any rate. There was little satisfaction to be gained by insulting a statue.
Albus was not in his office. A new door was there that was not a normal feature, and Severus passed through this as well. It led to a small padded room with a sparse bed and firmly barred windows. A wild and sickly appearing woman lay rigidly on the bed. Albus and Poppy were both present, tending to her. Severus merely regarded her in disgust.
"She's not well, Headmaster. I don't know how long we can keep her alive. Her mind is gone completely. St. Mungos really would be better for her. I just don't have the skills for this kind of illness," Poppy said worriedly, neither of them acknowledging Severus at the moment.
Albus sighed and shook his head. "We'll just have to do the best we can, Poppy. There is too much risk. If we return her to St. Mungos, word would eventually leak of her presence. Nymphadora's life would be immediately forfeit. There's nowhere else that's completely secure where we can tend her. It will have to be here."
"If she dies, Tonks will be found out immediately as well," Severus said from where he leaned against the door.
They both looked at him questioningly, though neither appeared startled at his presence.
"The Dark Lord will feel her death. When he does, and 'sees' Claire Lestrange alive, he will know she is an imposter. She must be monitored closely. If her death is imminent, word must be sent to Tonks so she can use her Portkey or she will be killed instantly."
"There's nothing physically wrong with her that I can find," Poppy said in frustration, appealing to Severus, "she ought to be improving physically, even if her mind is gone. I don't understand it."
Severus shrugged. "She is mad. She wishes to be returned to her Master. She grieves over the loss of her Dark Mark that connected her to him, and is anguished that she is the one who dug it out of her own flesh. She is quite insane, Poppy. Insanity can be just as fatal as any other illness. We'll just have to keep her alive as long as we can."
He waved his wand and retrieved several potions bottles. "Strengthening draughts, healing draughts, and dreamless sleep potions. As long as she does not injure herself physically, her body should persist a while yet. The sleeping potions will be less harmful than paralyzing charms you're currently using, though I suppose you have to paralyze her to treat her."
"Of course," Poppy said, affronted. "I don't generally go around hexing my patients, Severus. Thank you for the potions. I'm sure I can deal with this from here."
And so saying, she chivvied both men out of the room.
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Albus had been regarding Severus with grave concern ever since he entered the patient's room. Severus seldom deliberately sought him out, especially late in the evening, and he was concerned for the reason. Once the door to the concealed room had been closed and sealed, he turned his piercing gaze fully onto Severus.
"Do I need to summon the Order?" he asked at once.
Severus shook his head in disgust and retreated to the window seat that always managed to appear when he particularly wanted to avoid the Headmaster's searching gaze.
"No, Albus. Unfortunately, my problem at the moment seems to be of a more... personal nature. Not something I'm willing to discuss with any other Order members, I assure you," he said dryly.
Albus relaxed at once, and the amused twinkle found it's way into his eyes. There was so much worry and stress over horrific things these days. This was a pleasant diversion to say the least. He was pleased beyond words to think that this young man whom he had come to regard so highly was at last tasting a little of the pleasanter things in life, even if that tasting did have the poor boy in obvious turmoil.
"Well, then, Severus. May I offer you a drink? How can I help you?" he asked.
"Brandy. I do not know how to make Rowena Lupin realize that I am not worthy of her affections. I wish to release her from our charade at once, and for you to remove her from this school before she is seriously hurt. Put her at 12 Grimmauld with Remus for now. This is not working," he said, bluntly.
Albus was silent as he walked over and provided Severus with a snifter containing a healthy measure of brandy. He then drew up a chair so that he was close to the window seat, gazing at his friend directly.
"I think we must start with your basic premise. Rowena Lupin is fond of you, and you do not believe yourself worthy of that regard? Please elaborate for me. I would like specifics. What is it that makes you so unworthy?"
Snape shot him a look of pure venom.
"You of all people know exactly why I am so unworthy! Has recent stress made you as daft and foolish as Fudge wants everyone to believe?" he spat, cruelly. "Or perhaps you would like to hear me once again detail every crime I have ever committed, as I once did to you before?"
Albus was implacably calm, listening. Severus sat staring out the window, trying to turn his body away from the older man as much as he could. He sipped his brandy in silence before he could continue. His voice had every drop of hateful, sarcastic bitterness he could squeeze into it.
"I am a Death Eater. I am a Murderer. I have tortured people. I have poisoned people. Why do you BOTH insist on pretending that never happened??"
He fell silent then, unable to articulate the self-loathing that filled him. His hands clenched tightly around the snifter and his body became rigid, as though he could physically pull his body into himself as much as he did his mind and emotions.
"Are you ready for my answer, my friend?" Albus asked once Severus had sat stewing for several long minutes. Snape turned to look at him in disbelief. He plainly did not think there was an 'answer' to his problem, his questions and rantings. He remained silent, though, and Albus waved his wand.
Two large file boxes appeared at his feet. One was black, the other white. Albus could be as subtle as anyone Severus knew. But he was also fond of obvious symbolism when demonstrations were needed.
"Do you remember what I asked you to do, Severus, that night over 17 years ago when you came to me with your confession? When you nearly begged me to give you over to the Dementors at once? Do you recall?" he asked with the air of Professor to student.
Snape answered in the same vein. His turmoil was such that any sense of normalcy was a welcome relief, even if it meant temporarily regressing to the student role. "Yes, Professor, you instructed me to write a detailed account of all my crimes. I was to give each victim his or her own page, provide names when possible, and head each page according to its crime—murder, poisoning, torture, etc."
"And did you comply with that request?" the Professor asked his student.
Oh yes, he had complied. He had poured his guilt onto those pages in horrific detail. Each word had felt as though he was engraving his own personal monument in Hell with the blood he'd shed.
"Yes, sir, and I have continued to do so when my work for the Order has made it unavoidable for me to perform my duties as a Death Eater," Severus the student replied.
"Very well," said Albus. "What you see here is a result of that work. The black box contains all of your 'crimes'. The white box is MY contribution. It details every life you've saved, every individual you've helped, every bit of torture you have endured personally in your work for the Order, every unrewarded deed you have done since your return.
"I have thinned the boxes over the years. Every time you have saved a life, I have paired my page with one of yours detailing a person of matching gender and similar age, and burned both pages. A life saved for a life taken, do you see? The same for your other 'crimes'."
"Albus...," Severus's voice began to rise in irritation, leaving his 'student' role once again, "It's not that simple, and you know it!"
"Severus, do not interrupt me," Albus admonished firmly, his wise blue eyes peering mercilessly at the younger man. "True, it is not that simple. No amount of forgiveness bestowed on you by others can replace the need for you to find peace within yourself.
"But you are the one who wants to quantify your guilt. I think that it might be a useful exercise to do precisely that. You prefer to analyze things as much as you can; to have physical evidence that can be weighed, measured, and carefully defined whenever possible. I know this about you, my friend. That is why I have kept careful track of these records all these years."
He pushed the boxes across the floor towards Severus.
"I want you to open those boxes now and see the accounting of your 'evil' deeds weighed against your redeeming ones," he said. It was not a request.
Severus's body was a tense as a tightly coiled spring as he moved to comply. His black eyes glittered darkly as he regarded those boxes, black and white. The obvious symbolism did not amuse him. With a sigh of trepidation—he was not at all certain he wanted to see what was inside—he waved his wand so that both boxes opened simultaneously.
The black one was empty, completely and utterly empty. The white one was more than half full. Even Severus in his bitter pessimism couldn't view it as 'half empty' as it stood next to the gaping void of the black box.
Several silent moments passed as he stared at the two boxes in disbelief. Then he picked up some of the files from the white box for examination. He expected to see nonsense fluff. "Passed Neville Longbottom when he deserved failure" and "Carried trunks for Minerva", or the like.
Instead they read exactly like the pages he had written... that he still wrote when necessary... agonizingly describing every detail.
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LIFE SAVED: Allyson Smith.
Age: 30, Gender: Female Bloodlines: Muggle Description: pregnant mother of two wizarding children, husband is a wizard.
Rapid action in warning Order Aurors prevented the raiding and burning of the Smith home when Mr. Smith was away on business and Mrs. Smith was home alone with the children. Severe punishment received by Severus due to his being suspected source of 'leak'.
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The box contained dozens of pages of similar documents. He could not refute the validity of a single one.
He would never feel completely free of the guilt; never stop hearing the screams of his victims in the silence of the night. But somehow seeing solid evidence of the results of his attempts to somehow repay what he had done... it did offer something of comfort.
He looked at Albus then, openly for an instant, and his anguished gaze met the compassionate one of his friend.
"I can't erase your sorrow and remorse, Severus," Albus said gently. "I can't change the past, anymore than you can. I can offer you my heartfelt assurance, whatever it may be worth... I believe in you. I believe are completely worthy of every drop of Rowena's affections.
"I'm keeping her here, of course," Albus continued in a lighter tone, "I need her research on the school shields. She is safer here. But I know that part of your request was simply out of your distress over the main issue."
Albus stood and placed a hand on Severus's shoulder and smiled at him gently, "You deserve to live your life, son. It is time to begin healing."
Severus could think of nothing to answer to that. He simply shook Albus's hand warmly and silently left the office, deep in thought.
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The remainder of that week and all of the next passed in a blur. Severus had "Order Business" several evenings and the weekend, and Rowena did not inquire. She felt all the shame of her cowardice, but she really didn't want to know more than she 'needed' to know. Nothing of the Gryffindor nosiness in her!
Harry came twice more for Occlumency the first week, and twice the second. Albus came during one session and expressed not only his approval that she had taught Harry Legilimency, but also his wish for Harry to strengthen that discipline as well. He apparently thought that Harry might have need of it, and that it would help improve Rowena's Occlumency in the process.
None of them were fully aware of the deep suspicion Harry held towards all of them. Snape in particular, of course, but whatever was going on, Harry felt all three of them were involved. He had decided after last year that never again would the adults in his life keep him in the dark as they had done. He had avoided eye contact with Albus all summer, and Snape... well, he always avoided Snape if he could. They knew he was angry, hurting and distrustful. They didn't realize the extent.
Harry had taken to avoiding his friends and his homework in favor of lurking near the potion's lab in his invisibility cloak.
Severus was often in the lab brewing. Any spare time he could find, he devoted to either researching new potions or preparing needed healing and strengthening draughts. St. Mungos was seeing more injuries. Muggle deaths were beginning to occur with alarming frequency. His primary current Death Eater role was to 'tend' to 'Claire Lestrange'. He did at last succeed in persuading the Dark Lord to move her to the Malfoy Manner, and so her danger decreased.
The school year prevented him being as closely involved with the Death Eaters other activities as he was during the summer, in any other capacity than treating 'Lestrange'. The Order now needed to rely more heavily on Tonks's information, filtered through Lupin as often as she could check in.
Remus Lupin looked like hell, but Snape didn't care. He hadn't bothered to exchange a word with the werewolf since the night of the feast, and he suspected Rowena hadn't spoken with him either. When he came to collect his potion, Snape made him do it through the house elves. He had no desire to deal with the mutant.
Rowena. Well, she was an entirely different problem. He had dealt with her by NOT dealing with her... trying to maintain his distance. He wasn't rude. In fact, he was painfully polite and played the role of attentiveness when they were at the staff table together for the sake of the students.
But he avoided being alone with her, and she did not press the issue. He visited Katrina while Rowena was in Occlumency with Harry. She visited Katrina while he was away on 'business'. He was grateful to her that she was so readily willing to give him the space he needed to simply consider what he wanted to happen there.
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Friday evening found him working in his lab, trying to finish an antidote that he believed would soon be needed. He actually hoped to go and find Rowena later, perhaps play a game of chess and just spend some time with her again. Wild dragons couldn't have dragged the admission from him, but he had missed her.
A knock on his door roused him at once. He scowled darkly at the student entering his domain after his office hours, uninvited. Still... appearances must be maintained.
"Yes, Draco, what is it?" he asked in his bored tones.
The self-appointed Slytherin Prince drawled lazily, "I've just received a note from my parents, Professor. Mother wants me to tell you that she's low on her restorative potion. She wonders how soon you can supply her with more?"
Snape's scowl darkened further, "I provided your mother with six-weeks worth of that potion barely more than three weeks ago, Draco. I did tell her that the ingredients would be hard to come by."
"Yes, Professor," said Draco with a smirk. "But of course my Auntie needed some, and then they have an ill friend whom they thought would benefit. My father says to tell you that he would be delighted to help you...er... acquire your ingredients if you need assistance."
Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes in disgust. Bellatrix of course. And possibly they would have tried to supply some to 'Claire Lestrange'. The real Claire was a cousin of Bellatrix's husband after all. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. Bloody hell.
"I do not require assistance, Draco. Tell your parents I will deliver the potion Sunday," he said in bored tones.
Draco smirked and left the dungeon, and Severus sealed it. He was not possessed of a Magical Eye like Alastor Moody. He had no way of knowing that a certain invisibility-cloak-bedecked student was even now hunched in the corner of his lab, watching.
Harry had spent much of the last month of the summer between the Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place. And he had spent much of that time finding devious ways to learn what exactly was going on around him. No more secrets. He'd had enough of that, and their consequences, last year. Not again!
He had heard what had happened to Katrina. He was pretty sure he knew now what sort of potion it was that Narcissa wanted. Fred and George were involved in blocking shipments of some of the more questionable potions ingredients to Knockturn Alley. But they had told Harry that Snape was still to be given whatever ingredients he required, whenever he required them.
And he had heard Draco bragging about how close his parents were to Snape, how easy it was for them to get things they needed from Snape because of their connections. If Snape had already made the potion once since Katrina had been rescued, he would have had to find a replacement for the blood.
It was time to find out what it was that Snape was using as that replacement—if he was even using a replacement! Harry half-expected Snape to go and retrieve the child surreptitiously from her bed in the Burrow, and cut her vein or something while she slept.
The truth was almost as horrific.
As the blood flowed freely from Snape's own wrist held over his cauldron, Harry fought mightily not to be sick and reveal his presence. How long Snape allowed the cut to gush, he couldn't have said. But the increase in sickly pallor of Snape's face was plainly visible.
His Uncle Vernon had talked about blood drives at work, but had never donated, not wanting to make himself 'all weak and tired'. Harry also knew that they did these drives only once every 8 weeks. Apparently it was unsafe to do it more frequently.
Snape definitely allowed more than a pint of blood to flow into the cauldron. And it had been less than three weeks since he had last made the potion. Had he used his own blood that time as well?
At last Snape finished and stored the potion into small phials. He carefully wrapped them and locked them inside his private store cabinet, sealing it with several wards.
He then wearily made his way into his office where he literally flopped, very un-Snape-like into a chair, utterly exhausted. When Harry was certain he was sleeping—and not dead from his actions—he sneaked out the public door, very grateful he had paid close attention to the sealing charms Snape had used when he closed it.
Okay, he hated Snape. But he wasn't going to just let the greasy git kill himself by making a potion for that Malfoy woman. As far as Harry was concerned, that would just be allowing himself to sink to Snape's level. Besides, the Order needed him to spy or whatever. And Harry hadn't finished trying to figure out why the prat hated him so much. This certainly gave him much to think about as he hurriedly made his way back to his dorms.
Time to talk to Hermione and the Weasleys.
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A/N: We will see more of Harry in future chapters. The next chapter is written and will be posted in a day or two. Death Eaters attack _______________. Come see who survives! How's that for a cliffhanger?
I am so grateful for all the reviews—I can't tell you how much they make my day. Happy reading!
Lisa/Shanti