just about finished with the last chapter (aka Epilogue) of this story.
There will be a sequel which will probably be started after the sixth book
comes out (yay!). I have really been neglecting my other story but thankfully, I have a lot
more time now to write so I owe my readers of my other story many chapters.. Thanks, once again to my faithful reviewers as well as my beta, Badbugz, and
sorry about the font, I wanted to get this out asap since I've delayed long
enough.
Chapter thirty three- Freedom at Last
"You really shouldn't worry too much," Hermione said confidently at dinner. "what with Damien finally telling what that horrible wart did to him and all."
"'eah," Ron agreed through a mouthful of potatoes. "It ob'ious s'nse 'e sai' i' un'er ve…veri-"
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Ginny snapped. Ron blushed and swallowed heavily with what looked like a lot of effort.
The Great Hall was louder then usual. It was quite obvious that those that had been present at the trial had eagerly shared what they had heard. Although it had been admitted under veritaserum that Damien was innocent, nearly every student was still positive that Damien Snape was guilty, after all, he was the son of Snape, the tormenter of all students, wasn't he?
"You think they would have tried to stick to the truth," Hermione said furiously as a rather loud-mouthed Gryffindor walked by, surrounded by a group of awed students. Ron murmured something that sounded strangely like "traitor" as Lavender Brown whispered something to Parvati Patil, both frowning at the three Gryffindors. The three Gryffindors continued their heated conversation completely oblivious to a silent but angry discussion going on at the Teachers' Table.
"The nerve of that woman!" McGonagall fumed to her companions as she speared her roast with a fork. "To use a blood quill on students!"
"Do you think it is true that she was going to cast the Cruciatus on Mr. Snape?" Flitwick piped up, ignoring the rather uncharacteristic display from the normally calm and controlled transfiguration professor. "Of course it is," Severus and Dumbledore voiced in different manners. "Are you saying that my son was lying?" Severus hissed quietly to the tiny professor, acutely aware of the students that glanced up at them.
"Now Severus," Dumbledore spoke calmly, as he had all night. "I'm sure Filius did not intend that." "Certainly not!" Flitwick exclaimed. "I just couldn't imagine why Dolores Umbridge would cast the Cruciatus on Harry Potter!"
"Then you undeniably did not see the two of them together," McGonagall had calmed down slightly. "I could tell just by the way she spoke to him. She seemed completely positive of exactly what kind of boy Damien was before she had even laid eyes on him." She paused to take a small sip from her goblet. "Her preposterous mannerisms aren't entirely unfamiliar, unfortunately." Her gaze flickered to Severus, who winced slightly.
"I admit that I had unfair claims against him at first," Severus said through gritted teeth as he glared daggers at the students who were quite obviously listening. "but I never, nor would I ever, do something nearly as extreme as that."
"Of course not, Severus," Dumbledore said softly, his light blue eyes dimmed.
"It always seems to be the defense teachers who are harmful to the students." "Yes," McGonagall agreed. "Except for…." She broke off and the table fell into a respectable silence for a few moments in which the only sounds were the normal chatter from the students and the familiar clinking of silverware.
"Do you think she will be found guilty?" Flitwick broke the tense silence. From farther down the table Hagrid, who had been listening quietly along with the other teachers, spoke up, "Reck'in she'll fin' a way ter weasel 'er way ou' of i'."
Most of the teachers murmured in agreement. Dumbledore remained silent, a slight frown on his wizened face. "I have a feeling, Hagrid, that she will not even take her chances with it." Severus nodded, privately agreeing to the unspoken prediction.
'This is really getting quite old,' Damien thought as he tried unsuccessfully to tie his matted hair up with a long thread he had pulled off from his dirty robes. He had never felt so filthy and couldn't even imagine what he must look like by now. His insides squirmed slightly at the realization of the impression he must have given the Wizengamot with his tattered robes and grimy hair. 'Wonderful,' he said mentally. 'Yet another thing she could turn against me.' With his luck, Umbridge would somehow find a way to turn lack of hygiene into insanity, or enchant the crowd with a tale of it being a 'mark of a dark wizard.'
He was debating with himself on whether or not he was going insane. He could have sworn that he heard a voice coming from the cell across from him though it was clearly empty. Damien shifted, pulling a disgusted face as his hair brushed against his cheek. Angrily, he swatted the hair back and once again tried to tie up his hair, only succeeding in breaking the delicate thread. He fumed with himself for the lack of ideas as to what exactly he could do to waste time.
The silence suffocated him and he found himself shuffling around once again simply to create some kind of noise other then his own breathing. A moment later he tensed and held his breath, waiting, hoping to hear that voice, even if it was just a hallucination his brain had created for him.
"Hello?" he called quietly, gripping the bars in a white-knuckled grip. He clung to the bars, desperately straining his ears in the silence. The only response he received was a soft hiss. Damien blinked rapidly. It was a snake?
He licked his lips nervously and tried to draw up the image of the basilisk he had fought so many years ago before hissing, "Hello?"
"You sspeak our language," a voice returned. "I have only met one other who can." "Voldemort," Damien agreed quietly, wondering if the snake was a spy. "Is that what he callsss himself?" the unseen snake hissed back. "Hiss name wass once Tom Riddle, wass it not?" "Yess, it was," Damien answered, chewing nervously on his lower lip. He relaxed his grip on the bars and slid down to a sitting position.
"And you, young one, are you in allegiance to Tom Riddle?" the snake questioned. Damien swallowed and hesitated.
"No," he hissed finally. The snake hissed something that Damien didn't understand, an exclamation of a sort he presumed. "You bare hisss mark," came the suspicious reply and Damien started, his hand reflexively clamping onto his left forearm, a habit he had picked up from his father. "I do," Damien said carefully. "But I do not ssupport him." He mentally berated himself, knowing that his father would most certainly reprimand him for giving away such information. "Then why do you bare hisss mark?" the snake demanded, sounding defensive. "You are a sspeaker like he; why do you not ssupport him?"
"I do not agree with his waysss," Damien hissed back, wondering why he was talking to the snake in the first place. When the snake didn't answer, Damien quickly changed the subject.
"What are you doing here?"
"I have lived here for many yearsss, sspeaker," the snake said smugly (Damien wondered briefly how it was possible to convey an emotion through parseltongue).
"I would rather not experience the outer world."
"Why?" Damien questioned, feeling curious. He really had never talked to a snake before. Not that he had a desire to, but the first snake he had ever spoken to had been decent, which should have been proof in itself that not all snakes were bad. Once he had gotten to Hogwarts, he had been told simply that. Damien found it ironic that the same thing applied for Slytherins.
"There was a time, young one, when ssnakes were not hated so," came the wistful reply.
"But then one day, wizardsss and witchesss, both which we ssnakes have always been on good termsss with, recognized uss as dangerous creaturess, yet they continue to use our venom for antitodesss to their pathetic troubless." Damien didn't know what to say to that. Creatures had always been discriminated in the Wizarding World, yet the ministry continued to make use of them. He often couldn't help but feel ashamed to be a wizard considering all of the creatures who hated them, and with good reason.
The door banged open and Damien jumped. He heard a faint hissing noise as the snake retreated back into the confines of the cell and Damien resisted the urge to tell it good-bye. When he looked up at the intruder, Damien's first thought was that he had finally gone insane, but when Dumbledore spoke, he felt relief blossom in him, instantly warming him.
"Damien," Dumbledore greeted gently as he bent down to Damien's level.
"Professor," Damien croaked, unable to keep the grin from forming despite the circumstances. His grin faltered slightly.
"Is it already time for the trial? I've only been in here for a day…"
"Yes, I know," Dumbledore interrupted quietly.
"But Dolores Umbridge apparently didn't want to take her chances." Damien chewed on his lip, feeling something akin to dread creeping up on him. "What do you mean?" he asked very slowly. "She has fled the country," Dumbledore said simply, his blue eyes twinkling.
"You're joking," Damien murmured, hardly daring to believe it. "She's gone? But…but that means that we will have to continue my trial! And they will make me take veritaserum again to answer that last question!" Damien felt his mouth go dry. "Professor….I have something I need to tell you…" "That can wait," Dumbledore interrupted again. "Madame Bones has been elected as the new Mistress of Magic. She heard you're admittance under veritaserum and has given you a full pardon." Damien blinked, "What?"
"You are free to go," Dumbledore smiled at him.
"But….but…" Damien said weakly. Everything seemed to be going far too fast for his brain to keep up with. He shook his head, still feeling the guilt weighing upon his conscience. "Wait. I have to tell you, Professor," he said urgently. He paused for a moment and fumbled with the right words to say. "I….I tried to cast the Cruciatus on Lestrange last year at the Department of Mysteries," he blurted out, dropping his head in shame. "It didn't work, but I still tried it."
Dumbledore stared at him with an odd expression written on his ancient face. "Well…" he began and cleared his throat. "We can discuss this later, Damien. All I am concerned about is getting you out of here."
Damien looked at him. "But you're not going to say anything?" he asked incredulously. "I cast an Unforgivable on another human, Professor. I still want to," he whispered the last part.
"You still want to cast the Cruciatus on Bellatrix Lestrange?" Dumbledore asked slowly, the odd look on his face intensifying. Damien flinched and nodded. "She killed Sirius and Remus, Professor. They were like an uncle and a step-father to me."
"But Jameswas your step-father," Dumbledore said blankly and Damien stared at him in surprise. "Yeah," he said slowly. "But they were like step-fathers to me." He paused and shook his head in frustration. "Professor, is something else wrong? You are not acting like yourself…"
"Everything is fine," Dumbledore said with a hint of impatience. "Now let's go."
Damien couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Wouldn't Dumbledore at least be angry or even sad about his attempt on the Cruciatus? He watched numbly as the old man opened his cell door with the flick of his wand. Damien froze as he stepped out of the cell, his eyes glued to Dumbledore's wand. Didn't Dumbledore have a dark brown wand?
"Professor," Damien began in a cautious voice. "What was it that you told me you saw in the Mirror of Erised in my first year?"
Dumbledore turned to him, looking confused and slightly irritated. "What?" Damien didn't move; he held the bars of the cell door in a white-knuckled grip. After a few tense moments, Dumbledore smiled gently and responded, "The Wizarding World at peace, of course! Why do you ask, my boy?"
Damien felt a weight settle in his stomach, severely hoping that his face hadn't paled. He shuffled his feet and tried to look casual. "Just a precaution," he responded with a surprising note of calm. The false-Dumbledore nodded serenely and turned to go, obviously expecting Damien to follow him. Damien took that opportunity to hiss quietly, "Ssnake? Are you ssstill there?"
There was a rustling sound from somewhere in the depths of the other cell. "Yesss, young one, what isss it that you need?"
"Damien? Are you coming, child?" Damien nodded and slowly followed. He jumped in surprise when he felt a cool band coil around one of his ankles.
"He iss a fraud, ssspeaker, do not follow him," the snake hissed.
"I know," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "But I have no choiccce; I do not have my wand." He didn't hear the snakes reply as the older man turned back to him.
"What is keeping you? Surely you will not miss this place," the fake headmaster said in an amused voice, though it was obvious he was getting impatient. "I'm not going with you," Damien blurted out, bracing himself for a barrage of spells he knew would be thrown his way. The other man's face twisted.
"You-" He broke off abruptly and his face turned ashen as the snake, which had suddenly appeared at the base of his feet, reared back to strike.
"Stupefy!" the fraud cried as he stumbled back away from the now petrified snake. "Culter!" he roared at Damien, who had been trying to make a run for it. He froze in his tracks as the dark blue curse hit him at full force.
Damien collapsed onto the floor, hitting his head with a dull 'smack' on the concrete wall. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying desperately to ignore the blood seeping from a large gash that ran across his chest.
The imposter gave him a cold look and crushed the petrified snake's head. Damien winced as he heard a serious of cracks issue. "You just couldn't make this easy, could you, Potter?" Damien flinched, hating the coldness that seeped from Dumbledore's usually kindly voice. 'It's not him,' he told himself. 'Dumbledore would never hurt me; it's not him.'
He cleared his throat and spat as poisonously as he could muster, "It's Snape, you imbecile, not Potter!"
"Our Master will be very pleased to have his heir back," the Death-Eater-in-disguise sneered, ignoring him as he raised his wand once again….
A resounding crash interrupted the curse he was about to form and the chamber door flew off its hinges and smashed into the opposite wall. Albus Dumbledore walked in; his wrinkled face was one of absolute fury.
"Expelliarmus!" he snapped, jabbing his wand (dark brown) at his counterpart.
Severus hurried in, followed by, surprisingly, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The imposter-Dumbledore backed away quickly, reacting with lightening-fast reflexes as he yanked out a dagger and lunged at Damien.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" Severus roared and some invisible force collided with the Death Eater, who was thrown off his feet and crashed into a wall with a sickening crunch.
"Severus!" Dumbledore admonished, but made no other move to chide the Potion's Master. Severus hurried over to his son and dropped down beside him.
"Damien? Are you alright?" he asked gently. Damien gave him a crooked smile. "Yeah," he said breathlessly, ignoring the continuous soaking off his robes and a warm liquid trickling down his head. "I'm good."
Severus grasped his arm and pulled him up. Damien swayed, feeling dizziness sweep over him as he collapsed in his father's arms.
"Don't worry, Severus, it's just blood loss, I'm sure," Dumbledore said quietly as he bound the unconscious Death Eater, who turned out to be Macnair under Polyjuice. He waved his wand and a silver phoenix emerged from the tip, taking flight.
"Is he going to be okay?" Hermione asked in a trembling voice as her professor picked the boy up and cradled him in his arms. "He'll be okay," Ginny replied confidently. "He's Damien, remember?" Damien groaned and said groggily, "Am I really free to go? Is Madame Bones still Mistress?" Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Damien, she is and you are, after much persuading of the Wizengamot, I'm sure." Damien sighed almost contentedly and lost consciousness.
A/N- Thanks and please review!