Oblivion

By K. Cloak

A/N: This chapter and most of the last chapter were written before the release of HBP, but I hadn't finished them off before the book came out. Therefore they are not overtly HBP-compliant. However, they are still plausible, depending on your personal theory about Snape. I just didn't want to leave this story hanging, even if it (and especially "The Furnace") has been somewhat canon-balled. Also, these last two chapters have not been extensively worked over, as medical school is now upon me and fic-writing time is at an all-time low. If you find grievous spelling/grammar errors, send me an email. I'll fix 'em. Enough rambling. Enjoy.

Chapter 4: Dismantled Memories

"Get up, you damned drunk!"

Severus awoke to a lurching, damp world of black and pale yellow, the cause of his sudden awareness standing over him, one shoe on the backswing from the kick that he had just delivered.

Severus lay on his back on a concrete sidewalk, a wall to his left and a stranger to his right. With a groan, Severus raised a hand to his head, barely noticing the suited Muggle who'd kicked him into awareness. The blossoming pain in his head would have been strong enough to drown out the feeling of a good set of broken ribs, and the Muggle hadn't kicked him hard.

Struggling into a sitting position, Severus watched as the Muggle turned and began to leave, apparently having vented his share of belligerence for the night. Disoriented and having difficulty focusing on the world around him, he blinked and tried to concentrate.

He sat on a sidewalk next to a dirty brick building, the street dimly lit with Muggle electric lights. The sidewalk was mostly deserted; three young men stood smoking near a streetlight some distance away, apparently not caring about the fine, cold rain that now fell on them all. There was a bar about twenty feet away in the other direction; now that Severus was paying attention, he could hear Muggle music coming from the interior.

Putting his head in his hands, Severus tried to think. How had he gotten where he was? His robes were soaking wet in front, but dry in the back; he figured he couldn't have been outside for more than half an hour – or that it had only been raining for that long.

He didn't remember it being so cold when he'd left his house; his hands were stiff and his skin felt waxy under his cold, wet robes. Dizzy, he struggled to his feet, trying to find focus on the night's elusive memories. He'd been to a meeting… and then he'd woken up here. Frustrated at the sudden jump in recollection, Severus focused harder on his memory of the early evening. He'd been to a Death Eater meeting, which hadn't been very interesting… and then he'd woken up here. There was nothing in between – not even a sense that any time had passed between then and now.

Frowning, Severus turned his unsteady gaze to the door of the bar, putting a hand on the brick wall to stay upright. He felt vaguely nauseous, and there was a bruise and what felt like a good deal of dried blood on the side of his head. He had been feeling rather depressed lately. Had he gone to that bar, gotten drunk enough to forget where he was, gotten into a fistfight with a Muggle – who'd won – and then stumbled outside to pass out in the rain?

Severus closed his eyes and leaned back against the wet bricks. No, he couldn't have. The Muggle who had kicked him had been British. He would never have gone to a bar in England, where he might run into someone he knew. Anyway, he would have won in the fistfight.

Gods damn it all, he thought. The answer was obvious: He'd been Obliviated. And since the last thing he remembered was the meeting, he'd most likely been Obliviated by a fellow Death Eater.

Somehow, Severus had a feeling Albus would know about this; the old man always knew what was going on, even when it was none of his business. He reached a hand down into his robes, finding his wand where he always kept it, but a warning buzz tingled through his fingertips as his skin brushed the wand's polished handle. Confused, Severus held his right hand in front of his face, almost expecting the skin to be slightly singed.

He knew that sensation; it was the vaguely precognitive warning that most witches and wizards received before attempting a spell beyond their capabilities. It was the feeling that every wizarding teenager experienced when trying to Apparate for the first time - a felling that said "don't even think about it, kid." Severus realized that his concentration was shattered; replacing his wand in its loop, he began to walk down the sidewalk. Hopefully, a stroll through the cold rain would wake him up enough to Apparate; it was either that or take the Knight Bus.

Severus shuddered at the thought.

He'd only been walking for a minute when he was interrupted by another rude voice. "Hey faggot, nice dress." For the second time in five minutes, Severus found himself being called inaccurate names by an arrogant Muggle. The three smoking men, whom he had been passing by, stepped in front of Severus, halting his progress.

Severus narrowed his eyes at them, not in the mood to have a conversation, hostile or otherwise.

"Apparently you need to have your eyes examined, as I am clearly not wearing a dress," he said, turning to leave in the direction from which he had come. The shortest of them, solidly built with short blonde hair, grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back around to face the group.

"Get your hand off of me," he said to the blonde man, shaking the hand off of his shoulder.

"Why, faggot? I thought you'd liked to be touched by men." This comment came from another of the trio, a black-haired, thin man who looked a lot like Severus himself. Severus sneered at him, wrapping his finders around the wand handle under his robes and ignoring the warning buzz that returned with the contact.

"Hey!" yelled the blonde, grabbing Severus by the collar. "Don't go getting any ideas." He released Severus with a shove; unbalanced, Severus fell backwards and landed on the wet sidewalk, skinning his hands as he reflexively put his arms back to break the fall. The new pain in his hands and his frustration at finding himself picked on by a trio of arrogant Muggles evoked a sudden fury in Severus, and for the first time in a long while he felt his old hatred for Muggles rising back up in him. Clenching his hands into fists, Severus returned to his feet.

Sneering at the three men, he took an aggressive step forward, driving the man closest to him a step back. He then proceeded to do something that Severus Snape rarely did: he turned and ran.

The three Muggles took only a moment to stand there looking surprised before giving chase to the young wizard. Severus, who soon realized he wasn't in much of a condition to run, began to slow down. He briefly wondered how much of the Muggles' violence was just bluster and bravado – he'd find out soon enough. After a hundred feet more, Severus was forced to stop. The Muggles had not gone away. One of them now snapped open a switchblade as he began to stalk towards Severus.

Severus took his wand out of his robes as the man with the knife approached him. Once again, his hand tingled in warning, but Severus had little time to consider his options; as the man with the switchblade closed the distance between himself and Severus, Severus disapparated, leaving the three drunken men to stare at the empty space where he'd just been.

- - - - -

Severus awoke in a tangle of low brambles in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. For a moment, he couldn't remember how he had gotten there; then, the memory of his encounter with the Muggles, and his lack of memory of the rest of the night, came back to him. Apparently, the warning buzz he'd felt had meant something; Apparating had knocked him unconscious and had done nothing for his headache.

Severus struggled to get to his feet without tearing himself to shreds on the brambles, which were oddly leafless. He cursed as his black robes caught on the thorns; he freed the fabric from one bramble, cutting his hands in the process, only to have them snag on another place. Eventually, after Severus had been sufficiently lacerated to grasp the futility of his struggle, he emptied the pockets of his outer robes and took them off, draping them over a section of the brambles and stepping over them to get out.

What a horrible place to Apparate into, thought Severus. He wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge the fact that, most likely, he'd only narrowly avoided splinching himself. Tramping away from the brambles and the robes they had claimed, he took a moment to orient himself and began to make his way toward Hogwarts.

- - - - -

By the time Severus had picked his way through the dark forest and reached the border of the Hogwarts grounds, he'd recovered enough to run, albeit slowly, across the grounds to the castle. By the time he made it to the doors, the Strangling Hex was already making his breathing difficult. He tried the doors that led to the great hall, only to find them locked.

Crap, he thought, looking back over the distance he'd covered. He'd never made it back to the Forbidden Forest. He knocked on the door impatiently; although he doubted that the Strangling Hex was lethal, he didn't particularly want to find out.

"What do you want this time?" asked the sour voice of Argus Filch, as the grouchy caretaker opened the door a crack and wedged his skinny body into it.

"Let me in," said Severus. "I need to talk to Dumbledore."

Filch took in Severus's bruised and bloody face, missing robes, and altogether disheveled appearance. For a moment, the only sound was Severus's ragged breathing.

"You don't learn, do you?" asked Filch, giving Severus the kind of look he usually reserved for misbehaving second-years.

"What?" asked Severus.

"Oh, never mind," muttered Filch, opening the doors and letting Severus in. Severus took little notice of him as he made his way quickly through the halls and up to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"Chocolate frog," he croaked. The gargoyle continued to look at him with its stony, blank eyes.

"I said, chocolate frog!"

The gargoyle didn't respond. Severus cursed loudly at the gargoyle. When had Albus changed the password?

It took about ten more tries at the password before the hex caught up with Severus.

Luckily for him, it wasn't lethal.

- - - - -

"Snape?"

Severus opened his eyes to find himself in a chair in Albus's office; he was being held there by Argus Filch. Severus couldn't be sure what had woken him up: Filch's voice, or his breath.

Severus shook off Filch's hands, looking over the caretaker's shoulder at Dumbledore, who stood behind him.

"You changed the password," Severus said stupidly. His head was clearing, but not at record speed.

Albus ignored Severus's comment. "Mr. Filch tripped over you, Severus." Turning to Filch, he continued. "Thank you, Argus. That will be all."

Filch nodded at Dumbledore, turned, and left. Severus and Albus waited until he'd descended the stairs before turning their attention to each other.

"Albus," Severus said, putting a hand his bruised, bloody temple, "I think I got involved in something… unpleasant… tonight."

"You think?" replied Albus. As usual, he pulled up a chair and took a seat facing Severus. Severus didn't know it, but Albus had rarely seen him looking so unsure of himself.

"I… don't really remember… I think I've been Memory Charmed. There was a Death Eater meeting tonight – hours ago – it's the last thing I remember before waking up in some Muggle city about… well, I don't remember how long it's been since I woke up, I've been knocked out twice."

"Twice? What happened the first time?"

Severus frowned. "I Apparated back here – I was being accosted by a group of idiot Muggles. I just… woke up afterwards." Severus took a breath and let it out. "It was bizarre, Albus. Why would that happen? I haven't touched my wand since."

Albus was now frowning back at Severus, deep and normally unseen wrinkles forming between his eyebrows.

"I don't know, Severus – I'm no mediwizard." Stepping forward, he gently but firmly peeled Severus's now bloody hand from the side of his hand, surveying the damage. It looked like he'd been hit in the head with a hard object – his fall in the hallway had started it bleeding again. "Do you think you discovered the identity of the traitor?" asked Albus, almost offhandedly.

"Traitor?" asked Severus.

The sudden look on Albus's face sent a stab of fear through Severus's consciousness. Albus continued more slowly, as if his manner of speaking would improve Severus's understanding of the words.

"The one that you've been tracking, Severus. For two weeks."

Severus merely looked back at Albus, the confusion in his eyes slowly changing to a vague kind of horror. The look was mirrored in Albus's eyes.

"You must have," said Albus, his voice a near-whisper.

Severus frowned back at Albus, a very unpleasant thought taking root in his head.

"You must have found him out." Albus was shaking his head.

The unpleasant thought in Severus's head started to make itself heard.

"Damn." The single word, so uncharacteristic of Albus, set the unpleasant thought banging on the inside of Severus's skull.

"I haven't lost one night, have I."

The look on Albus's face answered that question for him. "What's the last thing you remember, Severus?"

Severus closed his eyes, a blanket of dread settling over him. "The meeting, around eight o'clock. On… September fifth," he said, gritting his teeth. There was a long pause before Albus spoke.

"Today's Halloween," he replied softly. "It's almost midnight."

Severus closed his eyes tighter, raking his hands into his hair and balling them into fists over his forehead. "Bastard," he spat, his teeth still clenched together. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and stood, the chair rocking precariously behind him. "Who the fuck would chop two months out of my memory for nothing!"

Severus began to pace, muttering as he went. Albus watched him with trepidation.

"Halloween! Halloween! I don't remember a goddamn thing!" Severus strode through the office with impressive speed, yet slightly unsteadily.

"I don't remember a goddamn thing," he repeated furiously, angrily swiping a tea towel from a low table and holding it up to his head, which was freely bleeding now. "Who the hell was I tracking, Albus?"

"A Death Eater with close ties to, and plans to kill, the…" Albus hesitated. "The Potter family." He flinched as Severus exploded.

"The Potter family! I get my brains scrambled and my head nearly bashed in for the Potter family? This is ridiculous!" Severus continued to march around the room, filling the air with an assortment of muttered swear words.

"You… were going to find out which friend of the Potters had become the newest Death Eater," said Albus, his voice quiet.

"Albus, you idiot!" yelled Severus. He spun around quickly and wavered on his feet for a moment before sitting back down, rather violently, in his abandoned chair. "I just saw the newest Death Eater a few days ago – I mean… at the very beginning of September. He's taller than I am, and well-built, and he stands apart from the others as if he's better than everyone. Who do you think it is!"

"We've had this argument already, Severus."

"It's Sirius Black!"

"You don't know that."

"Who else would dislike me so much that he'd excise sixty times more information than necessary from my memory?" There was a moment of tense silence, like the silence just before a bomb goes off.

A few seconds of sudden silence ticked by.

Albus pursed his lips. "Everyone in Gryffindor house?"

For a moment, Severus stood, frozen in fury; then, ever so slightly, he relaxed in his chair.

"I suppose you're right," he said, sighing. "It could be anyone. I do know a handful of Death Eaters who wear more extensive disguises to meetings." He

looked back at Albus. "There has to be a way to find out anyway. You can undo a Memory Charm, can't you?"

"Somehow, I doubt that this was a weak Memory Charm, Severus."

"Well, what about Legilimency – I won't block you out."

"I'm not sure, Severus. You've become even better at Occlumency these last two months, and…" he looked at Severus's bleeding temple, "memories obtained under duress are often easier to hide."

"Well, maybe they're harder to remove as well. It's worth a try, Albus. Besides, I want to find out who did this." And break a few of his ribs, he thought.

Albus shrugged, removing his wand from his robes. "All right," he said. "At least you're tired. Legilimens!"

The moment Albus cast the spell, Severus cried out in sudden, unexpected pain. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice rising an octave above its normal range. Albus immediately backed down and looked at Severus in surprise: he had slumped forward and held both hands to his head.

Severus raised his head and looked at Albus with a mixture of pain, surprise, and disorientation. "What the hell was that?"

Albus once again looked grave. "You know… I think you've been injured worse than you thought, Severus," he said. "You should go to the hospital wing."

Severus shook his head. "No," he said. "Pain's gone now – I'll go later. Try again – I'll be sure not to Occlude you."

Although he looked as though he did not want to, Albus once again cast the spell and tried to work his way into Severus's Obliviated memory. What he, as well as Severus, saw was devastating in its starkness: nothing. A sea of white. From the night of September 5th to late at night on Halloween, there was a void.

Albus broke off the spell, and Severus opened his eyes. He didn't remember closing them.

"I'm sorry," said Albus. "It was a strong spell."

Severus glared, not necessarily at Albus, but at the world in general.

"Try one more time – focus on tonight."

"Severus…"

"Just try it!"

Albus took a breath and tried a third time, focusing all of his magic on penetrating the fog surrounding the night of Halloween. For several moments, the stark nothingness in Severus's mind glared back at Albus Dumbledore.

And then, from the depths of Severus's shattered memory, rose the damning words: "I'd make a perfect Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm protecting them." An unidentifiable voice, gloating, echoed from Severus's mind. "I'm going to tell the Dark Lord where to find the Potters," it said. "They'll die, tonight."

Albus and Severus emerged from the spell as one. Albus had turned paler than Severus had ever seen him. After a long moment of shocked silence, he spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," he said. His voice shook, only slightly, but enough to scare Severus.

"Who is it? Who is the Secret Keeper? You know, don't you."

Albus turned to Severus and spoke in a whisper, as if his next words would break him in two if he spoke them too loudly. "I'm sorry, Severus, for my blindness. You were right. Their Secret Keeper… is Sirius Black."

-o-o-o

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed the 3rd chapter: Katharina-B, Persephone Lupin, and Grey Grim. I appreciate it!