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Chapter 7
"Perhaps I should be telling you why we were going to Knockturn Alley. To do so, however, I will have to share with you a secret - information so classified that only a few select wizards and witches in the world's governments know this - that has been hidden for centuries. Let me warn you from the onset: if the Ministry knows that I am sharing this information with you, we will both spend the rest of our lives in Azkaban. While I am sure you may be capable of breaking out, Headmaster, I am not so fortunate, and so I do not need to tell you to treat this with the utmost secrecy.
The ultimate aspiration of the wizarding race is thus: to conquer death. It is an extremely foolish wish. Dangerous as well. We wizards have all too well learnt what happens when the natural order of things is inverted. Nature posses a magic that is so powerful and stable that the greatest among us can only look on in wonder. To meddle with nature is to meddle with one's own destruction. To conquer, prolong or altogether stop death - perhaps it can be achieved, perhaps it cannot - is a dangerous thing. Not only because it can fall into the wrong hands, but because, if not done properly, it can have devastating consequences. I shall explain that in a moment.
A few hundred years ago, the greatest learning centre for potion-making was Arabia.
Arabic wizards discovered - after years of searching and experimentation - a certain ingredient. This ingredient - the name, nature or properties of which is unknown - when mixed with a certain combination of other ingredients produced a most singular potion. A potion which simultaneously had the power of Unicorn Blood, of Phoenix Tears, of the Elixir of Life... in effect, a potion which had great healing powers and the potency to prolong life and to bring back a person from the edge of death. Not only this, this potion had one other amazing quality. It possessed the potency to - no more, no less - bring back a person from death; to, in short, make a dead person come alive.
And here we face our first problem. Muggles grasp this concept better than wizards and witches do; the soul is not an object to be controlled at will. It is at once, a most beautiful and potentially terrible thing, and is incredibly magically powerful. It is a terrible thing to say, but if the power of the soul were fully harnessed... but no, I shudder to even think about the possibilities that could occur. Little is known on the subject, but what I can say with absolute certainty is that when the soul leaves a human body, it's natural inclination is to travel onto the next world; the higher plane. I cannot say with certainty what exactly this is. However, a soul, even though truly gone from this world still has an unbreakable connection with its former body. After much thinking, I have realised that if the potion were successfully made, then it would use this connection to bring the soul back to its body. But, the huge, the terrifying question always remains: is it possible that something other than the desired soul could cross over to our world? Or something could perhaps cross over with the soul? I do not know. I do not wish to know. This potion should never be made.
If people consider Voldemort to be terrible, then they'll be rather rudely awoken if a demon or monster from another world comes knocking on their doorsteps.
But enough. I carry on too much.
As with all great things, some wished to use it in their dark and terrible plans. There were several attempts to learn the secret of this potion and to capture the last remaining collection of it. This was mainly the period of time when the Cruciatus and Imperius curses came into being - as the Arab potion brewers were tortured to try to obtain the way to brew the potion. Many long and gruesome wars followed - termed by the Muggles as the 'Crusades.' However, along with their genius, the Arabic wizards had realised the terrible consequences that their potion could bring. So they hastened to destroy it. The secret of this potion went with them to the grave.
There have, of course, been many recent attempts to duplicate that one, key ingredient that went into the making of this coveted potion. All of these attempts have, of course, been absolutely unsuccessful. A bridge cannot be complete without its centre-stone; similarly this potion cannot be made without that one unknown ingredient. I have had time to think about the components that would be required for this potion, and have reached one conclusion: this ingredient will act simply like a catalyst. It will make all the other reactants work. Without it, it is impossible to make this potion.
Now I mentioned that this whole affair is a secret. Why? Simply this: the secret ingredient, the crucial element needs to be something so immensely powerful, so incredibly magically potent that it can only be one of a very few number of things. Each of those things are either so heinous, so terrible or require something terrible to be committed to obtain them that if it were publicly known there would be outrage; an enormous backlash of anger and fury. An example of a possible thing being the key ingredient is the sacrifice of an innocent life... a child, or Unicorn perhaps.
I am sure you have guessed where I am heading. The Ministry had - I presumed (since I do not remember the specific instructions) - asked us to try to replicate this potion. I am not surprised that my memory was altered; indeed, if it had not, then I would have had the single-handed power to bring the Ministry crashing down onto its self-righteous feet. Some recent research had made the brewing of this potion more possible. I do not remember this research. Once again memory alteration.
Naturally, any ingredients of this potion would have been less than... respectful and so we were to go to Knockturn Alley to secure certain components needed for the potion - which, predictably were removed from my memory.
You may ask why we were complying with the Ministry's requests. The potion was a highly unethical one. And yet, the advantages had to be weighed against the disadvantages. The war was raging all around us; Voldemort was gaining power daily, growing stronger and stronger. Also, his followers were gaining in numbers and strength. I sympathised with the Ministry because I knew that it had to resort to desperate measures to have a chance of defeating the dark side. Having said this, however, I will still maintain that the Dementifying Potion was too much. There is a certain line in potion-making, and if we had made this potion then we would have crossed that line.
Anyhow, suffice to say, I was intrigued by this potion. If it was made, then truly amazing things could happen. The Four Founders of Hogwarts could be resurrected - together more than a match for the Dark Lord and his followers.
o.o.o
"After I left Petale, I went back to my house in Spinner's End I went. I could never call it a home. I, Severus Snape, had never yet had a home. It is a pathetic thing to say, but you cannot miss that which you have never known.
That first night I felt more hopelessly desperate than I had ever yet felt. All the dark and painful memories that I had suppressed came crowding back to me. I tried everything: drink, potions... but nothing worked. My emotions were raw. The thunderbolt had stripped me of all of the defences I had put up to stop myself being a simpering, over-sensitive, self-pitying fool. And so I sat through the night, having the rather irresistible urge to perform a memory charm on myself.
Recalling the two weeks I spent brings back pain.
And so I shall leave any details. I will tell you only this, that I felt miserable. What I can say with absolute certainty is that there was an innermost recess of my being that held a place for Petale. I assumed that there was a similar place in her soul for me. And I knew in my heart that Petale felt miserable as well. At times, it was almost as if I could see what she saw, feel what she felt. It was times like these I could almost reach out and touch her - times like these I wanted to grip her small shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled for making me feel like an over-emotional teenager.
They were the most difficult and gruesome two weeks of my life.
Christmas passed without any event. I received nothing; nor gave anything. New Years day passed also without any note-worthy occurrence.
Let us now move towards the end of my holidays. Two days before I was to resume work at the Ministry, I took a trip. I had never before done what I was about to do. Indeed... I was going to buy a Christmas gift.
Suffice to say, the intended recipient of my present was - from what I could tell - totally and utterly miserable at the moment. I knew perfectly well what I was going to get her. And to do that, I would have to dress as a Muggle.
o.o.o
So, there I was, a few hours later, standing in front of a large shop in Muggle London. I had donned a large overcoat on top of my robes - it was winter and so I had an excuse - and could just about pass for a suspicious-looking Muggle. I also had a few notes of Muggle money, which I had changed from galleons in the wizard-muggle currency-exchange office in the Ministry.
Taking a deep breath I walked in, and immediately was bombarded with an over-bright, over-enthusiastic young man with astonishingly white teeth.
"Good evening, sir. And how may I help you?"
I nodded my greetings and then said: "Your assistance will not be required any further."
He nodded, still with the same smile, and walked away.
My eyes were drawn towards the gold shimmering and glimmering around me. I stood in a large goldsmith's shop. Immediately, without any further ado, I set about to do my work.
A few hours later, I apparated in front of the house I knew was Petale's. The curtains were drawn, and there was a light on in one of the rooms downstairs. I gently opened the gate and without any sound, proceeded up the path. Gently, I laid down the package I held in my hands. It had a white slip which read thus: "To, Ms Petale Black."
Somehow, I knew she would know it was from me.
