WARNING: MASSIVE SPOILER ALERT! DO NOT READ ONE MORE LINE UNTIL YOU HAVE FINISHED HBP ENTIERLY!
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Author's Note: Well, here's my take on why Snape killed Dumbledore. Of course it's wrong—I have a knack for making the exactly wrong assumption each time. Heck, my three predictions about sixth book were that: 1) the Half-Blood Prince was Tom Riddle, 2) Tonks would inherit Headquarters, and 3) Tonks would NEVER profess love for Remus. How much do I know? But until seventh book comes out to prove me wrong, enjoy.
This is my first experiment in stream-of-consciousness. If you do review, please tell me how it went.
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"Only Muggles talk of 'mind reading.' The mind is not a book, to be opened at
will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls,
to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing,
Potter...or at least, most minds are..."
Severus Snape, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pp. 530
The voice of Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, trembled in a manner most unsuited to a Black (not even suited to a Malfoy, really) as she spoke the final words of the Unbreakable Vow. "And, should it prove necessary...if it seems Draco will fail...will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"
And Severus Snape translated her words inside his head: When Draco fails, will I kill the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore?
Words have power. It was the first lesson that Severus Snape's mother had taught him. Words, as they are commonly used, are unfixed, indecisive, fluid. They point first to this meaning and then to some quite other meaning at the speaker's or hearer's whim. Magic is nothing more or less than the ability to crystallize the raw material of words into clear, precise significance. That was the secret to spell-making. Snape had known that even before he graduated from Hogwarts. That was why so many spells were done in Latin. Dead languages are no longer growing and flowing in new directions.
On the rare occasion that a Gryffindor bright enough to understand it came along, he inevitably complained that it was not fair. All words ought to stay where you put them. All words ought to be as honest and clear as spells. Gryffindors are fools. A true Slytherin, like Snape, immediately saw the possibilities. Words are not like swords to be wielded, but like venomous snakes to wind around your enemy's defenses and strike where he least expects. Words are still tools, just as deadly as before and even more effective, because your enemy cannot easily block them or get a hold of them to turn them against you.
It was all well and good to tell Dumbledore that he did not serve Voldemort. It was all well and good to tell Voldemort that he did not serve Dumbledore. It was all true either way. The words were slippery enough and Snape was skilled enough in both Occlumency and lying that he could keep both sides duped, could keep both leaders, skilled though they were in Legilimency, from discovering the truth. He was not on either side. Severus Snape had no more a taste for killing mudbloods than he had a taste for consorting with them, and vice-versa. But what about Dumbledore? Yes, the old man was a doddering old fool. But his very idiocy was endearing in a way. No one had ever trusted Snape before. Dumbledore was a suicidal fool for even considering it. But his sincerity was almost enough to convince Snape to spare him if possible.
Will I kill Albus Dumbledore?
But the Unbreakable Vow was another matter. The Unbreakable Vow was every bit as fixed and solid as any Gryffindor could wish. And Bellatrix was waiting. No doubt the harpy would gleefully report to the Dark Lord if Snape showed any hesitation. There was no alternative.
It was only with great care and years of discipline that the Half-Blood Prince kept a most unbecoming tremble out of his own voice.
"Yes."