Chapter 2: Severus Snape
It's been a month since it happened, a month since the Dark Lord fell, a month since Lily died and the brat lived, the Brat Who Lived, but he's been trying not to think about that. It's been a month of hell – correction, a month of purgatory, it has been four days of hell, the four days since he was arrested, the four days he's spent in the Ministry's holding cells.
Purgatory or limbo … he's a bit hazy about these Muggle religious ideas but it's some kind of place where nothing happens, just waiting around. And that's how it's felt for a month – nothing. It's like someone has taken a Muggle vacuum cleaner and sucked out all his insides, leaving him completely empty. There's just an emptiness, a gnawing emptiness, and he can't feel anything, just numbness. Food has no taste and alcohol has no effect – he only eats because Dumbledore tells him to eat, he only sleeps because Dumbledore comes down to the dungeons every evening, watches him while he brushes his teeth, puts him into bed and gives him a goblet of Dreamless Sleep potion, and he only gets up in the morning because Dumbledore sends a house-elf to nag him.
Strangely, there's been no problem with his classes, the students seem even more afraid of him now than when he shouted, when he almost pulled his hair out with frustration when they melted their cauldrons, exploded their cauldrons … when the dunderheads thought that if the potion wasn't thickening properly after adding one rat spleen, then why not just add a double handful! He's been sleepwalking through his classes, he never gets angry now, he never raises his voice. And he doesn't notice the attractive girls, either, the ones who give their young Potions master bold looks, come hither looks, I won't go running to Professor Dumbledore if you don't … he has no appetites at all, not even for revenge. He'd felt nothing at all when Sirius Black was arrested, not even mortification that he'd been wrong – he'd always fingered Lupin as the traitor, as the Dark Lord's source of information close to the Potters, he'd agued with Dumbledore about it any number of times – or surprise that Pettigrew, the cowardly little rat who'd never dared to hex him when they were all at school together, had had the guts to take on Black.
Being arrested has, in a strange way, been good for him, because you don't know how sweet liberty is until it's taken away from you … and when he wouldn't talk - because if Sirius Black is one of the Dark Lord's creatures, if Sirius Black is a Death Eater, then anyone could be a Death Eater, even Alastor Moody himself - he'd got a dose of crucio. Moody had given him Veritaserum first, but that had just made him gag, he's swallowed so many gallons of the antidote to the stuff, so Moody had tried something else, he'd brought in a Ministry Legilimens, and when that hadn't worked, he'd tried something stronger. Oh yes, Crouch has authorized the use of the Unforgiveables against suspects now, and the Cruciatus Curse had hurt, though not as much as when it's the Dark Lord dishing it out. He'd thought – at least I can still feel pain, and then he'd felt anger, he'd felt rage and hate, and rage and hate have always made him strong.
Fuck Moody … the Ministry's champion Death Eater hunter, they've met before, but on that occasion he was wearing his mask and Death Eater robes, and Moody hasn't recognised him as the wizard who hit him with the bone-breaking curse that destroyed his leg, probably Moody wasn't an agent of the Dark Lord but that didn't matter any more, it was personal now. When Moody had tried the Imperius Curse, he'd conned Moody for a while, acted as if he was under the influence of the curse right up to the point where he'd told Moody to shove his wooden leg up his arse. A little rational voice at the back of his head had whispered that this wasn't a smart move, this wasn't Slytherin thinking, but he was in no mood to be rational, there was no way that he was going to give Moody the satisfaction, he'd rather die first - and when the Headmaster found out that Moody had killed his spy, Moody would be in for a right kicking. But when Moody had realized that he wasn't getting anywhere, the bastard had broken his wand, and that had hurt, a wizard without a wand is hardly more than a filthy Muggle.
Moody is supposed to be smart but he wonders about that, it was the oldest trick in the book putting him in the same cell as Lucius for a while, it's a Muggle trick. He'd read all about it in his father's books about the Muggle version of the war against Grindelwald, the books about prisoners making daring escapes, The Wooden Horse and The Great Escape and the others … they always put two prisoners in the same cell and listen to what they say to each other through hidden microphones. Lucius has been in Azkaban, and Azkaban sounds bad, very bad – Stalag 13 or Colditz would be a walk in the park compared to Azkaban.
He'd never seen Lucius so scruffy, and he'd looked ten years older, but it was still good to see him, it was still good to see his best friend. Lucius' trial is coming up soon but he'll be OK, his father Abraxas will move heaven and earth to get his son out of prison, and spend as many galleons as it takes. Lucius hadn't lost his wits in Azkaban, and he'd had the good sense to keep the conversation casual, outrage that one of Dumbledore's own staff should be suspected of Death Eater activity, a whinge about the Ministry's anti-Slytherin bias, and some pious exclaiming over the martyred Potters and the Boy Who Lived. He'd wished Lucius hadn't brought that up but it was unavoidable, really, all good citizens were rejoicing over the disappearance of the Dark Lord. And the fact that the brat had lived … James Potter's brat had lived, and Lily had died.
Time to think of something else … Merlin, it had been scary what Lucius had told him about Azkaban – Lucius had tried not to think about Narcissa and Draco, because any happy thought brought the Dementors swarming around his cell. Azkaban! He's not going there, he'd rather die first … and he'd remembered what his mother said about Azkaban.
It was right at the end of the summer holidays before the start of seventh year, his father had known better than to piss him off since he turned seventeen, since he came of age and could use magic away from Hogwarts, the filthy Muggle had known to watch his manners around his mother, because now that he could use magic he could look after them both. He'd been lurking in his bedroom, half-reading a book and half-thinking about the Muggle prick teasing bitch who let him kiss her in the back row of the cinema, she let him put his hand up her blouse, she even let him slip his hand under her skirt but she wouldn't let him go any further, like he wanted a Muggle anyway but he'd never dare to touch a Hogwarts witch, when the shouting started in the kitchen.
Fucking hell, what was his father saying this time? Suggesting that he wasn't even his son, oh that's rich, dad - I see your nose every time I look in the mirror … and then it was more than shouting, he could hear things being smashed, the filthy Muggle is drunk again and it's four o'clock in the afternoon! He'd walked into the kitchen with his wand in his hand and when he saw his father standing there with his fist raised, and his mother cowering, it had just been too much. How dare a Muggle raise his hand to a witch! He'd screamed crucio ... and his mother had flung herself on him, dragged the wand out of his hand, she'd been hysterical, babbling that it was an Unforgiveable Curse, it would mean Azkaban, never use that curse, it will be Azkaban if you use that curse.
His bloody mother! How could a witch let a Muggle treat her like that! He'd been furious with her, and so he'd got his school stuff and walked out of the house that day, and he hasn't been back to Spinner's End since ... Spinner's End, what a foul Muggle dump! He'd been prepared to do anything to get away from Spinner's End, he'd had his hopes pinned on getting a job as a Gringotts curse breaker, he'd been absolutely gutted when he got the owl, "Thank you very much for your application but unfortunately there are no suitable positions available at this time ..." and he couldn't understand it, his NEWT results were outstanding. Lucius had said, it's anti-Slytherin prejudice, a Slytherin hasn't got a chance unless he's well-connected - and there's someone I want you to meet, someone who can help you. At first he'd been reluctant to meet the leader of the party that espoused the cause of blood purity, but then he'd thought, I've got nothing to lose, and no-one knows that I'm a half-blood anyway.
His first meeting with the Dark Lord had been a shock, Lucius had shown him into the Dark Lord's room, and then backed out of his presence, he'd been a little surprised to see Lucius, who considered himself to be the closest thing the wizarding world had to royalty, behaving in such a respectful, even servile, fashion ... and then the Dark Lord had looked into his eyes, and all his most hideous, humiliating, wretched memories had come racing through his mind, as vividly as a Muggle film. His father's blows and insults ... the squalid little house in Spinner's End ... second hand robes and tatty books ... the Marauders' torments ... Lily's voice, I'd wash your pants, if I were you, Snivellus ... the werewolf slavering over him in the Shrieking Shack ... Dumbledore threatening him with expulsion if he said a word about Lupin ... the sordid groping with the Muggle bitch ...
But the Dark Lord had been ... kind ... to him, the Dark Lord hadn't been concerned that he was a lowly half-blood, he'd said this will be our little secret, and the Dark Lord actually seemed to understand how he felt about his mother – she was a witch, she could have hexed his father to hell and back so why didn't she, why didn't she use her magic? – and his father, the filthy Muggle. And the Dark Lord had told him that an unpleasant memory can be a source of strength, not weakness, told him how the most powerful of all curses, the Avada Kedavra, requires a memory that inspires hate and anger, had promised to have him taught the curse ... and the tutor selected by the Dark Lord had been none other than bold, beautiful, sexy Bellatrix Black, oh yes he'd been more than a little infatuated with Bella in those days. And the Killing Curse had been a buzz to use, even on Muggles - better than sex, better than "recreational" potions.
When the Dark Lord had told him that there was no good and evil, no right and wrong, only power, and those too weak to seek it, he'd been impressed, that was certainly how the world worked, even if Slytherins were the only ones honest enough to acknowledge it. The Gryffindors wrapped it up in a lot of high-sounding words, but that's what it was really about – power. And everyone who had ever had power over him had used it to hurt him or manipulate him, everyone except Lily, she knew he was a half-blood and she must have guessed how he felt about her, not that he was in love with her or anything, and she had never used it against him. Dumbledore was a different matter, Dumbledore had acted like he cared, at least a bit, right up until the point when he'd finally got something on the Marauders, something that could get them expelled ... and then the Headmaster had made it clear where the power lay – with the Gryffindors. Oh yes, it was all about power, when you stripped away the kindly manner and the sherbet lemons and the twinkling eyes, it was just about power – who had it, and who didn't.
And the Dark Lord had appreciated his abilities, the Dark Lord had told him that he had great potential, that he would be a valuable asset – and when the Dark Lord was Minister for Magic, he would reward those who had been devoted, those who had given faithful service. He'd been honoured that the Dark Lord had chosen him to join his elite followers, the Death Eaters, he'd been avid to explore the kind of Dark magic that he'd only ever read about before, and the Dark Lord was a great wizard, it was only right that his followers should show him proper respect, approach him on bended knee and kiss his robes. For the first few years it had been fine, sure, he'd seen – and done - some nasty things, but the Muggles deserved everything they got, and it was war against the Ministry, an underground war, a guerrilla war, but still a war. It was exciting, intoxicating, and it wasn't always piss-easy Muggle-baiting, often it was dangerous, when they duelled with the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix. And sometimes they – the reckless young ones he hung around with, anyway - got sick of having to be so secretive, they'd go looking for trouble, drinking and picking up girls in the Aurors' pubs, itching to start a fight, itching to openly declare their allegiance to the greatest, the most powerful, the most charismatic wizard in the world.
Yes, the Dark Lord was a great wizard, and he did great things - terrible things, but great things - and he would do even greater things when he was the Minister for Magic. And the Dark Lord had praised him and rewarded him, given him personal tuition in Legilimency and Occlumency, he didn't have to worry about money, the Dark Lord provided everything ... and he was rarely singled out for punishment, OK, once or twice he'd got a slap over the wrist because everyone does, even Lucius and Bella, the Dark Lord's favourites amongst the younger Death Eaters, got the occasional taste of the Cruciatus Curse. Which hurt, really hurt, but he'd taken the Dark Mark, it was his master's prerogative to punish him if he disappointed his master, he couldn't resent that.
Oh yes, he was junior but rising fast in the Dark Lord's favour – until the Dark Lord sent him to Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore. He'd overheard the god-damn prophecy, and there was no doubt that it was the real deal, Trelawney wasn't faking that, so he'd gone running to the Dark Lord with it, and only a few months after that everything had gone pear-shaped. The Dark Lord had called them together, told them that he was going after the Potters and their child ... and he hadn't been quick enough to hide his feelings, the Dark Lord had seen right through him, he'd said, "I can see you're … attracted … to the Mudblood witch. You can have her when I've killed Potter and the boy." The others had sniggered – they'd known what this meant – a Memory Charm strong enough to obliterate Lily's memories of James and the baby, leaving her an empty shell, it would be worse than killing her, nearly as bad as a Dementor's Kiss, she'd be just a body to use. He couldn't let that happen, and he couldn't let the brat die, not when he'd bumped into her by carefully orchestrated chance in the Leaky Cauldron not long after it was born, he'd seen the tiny, mewling lump in her arms and realised how much she loved it, she'd do anything to protect her little Potter-clone.
So he'd gone to the Headmaster, to the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, and blurted it all out, begged Dumbledore to protect Lily ... and somehow he'd ended up spying on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore, and being a Death Eater was no longer a thrilling game that he was certain of winning, it was a deadly serious business.
And in that last year, after he'd started spying for Dumbledore, things had changed - the war had really hotted up and the Dark Lord had become increasingly angry and frustrated because they couldn't locate the Potters and he didn't want to make the final move until the boy was dead and out of the way. The attacks on the Muggles had got really out of hand, he'd wondered if the Dark Lord was actually trying to start a war between wizards and Muggles, and the Dark Lord had forged some alliances that made him very uneasy, with the giants, the vampires and even the werewolves - with that foul beast Fenrir Greyback. And that had really worried him – surely the Dark Lord knew that Greyback deliberately attacked children, but only the children of wizard families, he wasn't interested in Muggles, a Muggle has no magic and can't become a werewolf, a Muggle bitten by a werewolf just dies. He'd realised that Dumbledore was right, if the Dark Lord couldn't be Minister for Magic, he was prepared to destroy the whole of the wizarding world, like a kid who'd rather smash a toy than share it.
Yes, things had changed in that last year, when the Dark Lord had started to suspect that someone had turned traitor he'd gone a bit odd, even a bit paranoid. The punishments had become more frequent, more prolonged and more erratic, sometimes there were gruelling tests of loyalty, when they'd had to do such pointlessly cruel things that it made him feel a bit ... sick, and the Dark Lord had been at him relentlessly to find a way to get Dumbledore to tell him the rest of the prophecy. And then Regulus Black had cracked up, lost his nerve, tried to leave the Dark Lord's service, and that had been a learning curve. It was fair enough that the Dark Lord had decided to kill Regulus, but the way that it had been done had been an educational experience, oh yes, the things the Dark Lord had done to Regulus before he was executed had been truly inventive – and not in a good way. Regulus' death had brought home to him – and very forcefully – that the Dark Mark branded on his left arm was forever, it meant a lifetime of service or death, and it was probably going to be death, he was going to get caught out lying to the Dark Lord long before the Potter boy grew up and had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.
Playing the role of a double-agent, spying on Dumbledore for the Dark Lord and spying on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore, had been hard, much harder than he'd ever thought it would be when he'd jumped at Dumbledore's offer, and he'd been through seven hells that last year, trying to keep Lily safe, and for nothing, and maybe it would be Azkaban anyway ... though Dumbledore had promised to protect him, and he trusted Dumbledore. When he'd gone to Dumbledore, he'd known that he was in serious trouble, really serious trouble, this time it would be much more than a thrashing with his father's belt or fifty points from Slytherin for your disgraceful behaviour Mr Snape, it would be Azkaban, and a lot worse than that when the whole story came out. The entire Auror Corps would be laughing over it – have you heard, it's absolutely delicious, that filthy Death Eater Severus Snape has a thing for James Potter's wife, not that Lily would ever have looked at the greasy Slytherin git, not when she could have handsome, charming, athletic, talented, wealthy, pureblood James Potter, such a good family, the Potters, and this is even better - Snape is a half-blood, his father was some drunken penniless Muggle! James would know, and the rest of the Marauders ... he couldn't bear to think of it, he'd rather die first. So he'd stood in front of the Headmaster's desk, with his wand in his hand, a seething cauldron of fear and shame and rage, thinking, when the Aurors arrive I am not going to go quietly, hell no, and maybe I should just do it myself, get it over and done with ... and then Dumbledore had flipped the wand out of his hand without uttering a word, told him to shut up and sit down, and he'd been so surprised, and so impressed by the power that the old man had so casually displayed, that he'd done as he was told. And then Dumbledore had been very matter-of-fact, had calmly discussed how he might best help Lily to evade the Dark Lord, had pointed out that unless the Dark Lord was vanquished, Lily would never be safe, had explained how valuable the intelligence that he could provide would be, had promised to tell no one ... and that had made sense, a lot more sense than Azkaban or killing himself.
And that was how it had started off, he was useful to Dumbledore and Dumbledore was useful to him, he didn't have to like the old bastard, he just had to work for him, but it had become more than that. He'd started to think that Dumbledore actually cared about him, worried about him when he was summoned to the Dark Lord, knew how terrifying it was when he had to let the Dark Lord into his mind, when he had to guard his mind from the Dark Lord and not let him know that he was guarding it. And Dumbledore didn't give him a hard time about the things that he'd done for the Dark Lord, the things he'd continued to do, that was something that they didn't talk about more than was strictly necessary, they both knew that he had a dirty job to do and that was that. Dumbledore never actually said anything to him, it was more what he didn't say and didn't ask about that had started to make him feel safe with Dumbledore, and when he'd had a particularly hard time with the Dark Lord, the Headmaster seemed to know and would let his hand rest on his shoulder for a moment, and that was comforting.
So he hadn't worried too much when he was first arrested, surely the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be informed immediately if one of his staff was accused of Death Eater activity, and Dumbledore would sort everything out. But Dumbledore hadn't come for him, and by the third day he'd really wanted Dumbledore, really needed him, and he'd started to be really afraid, he'd started to think, the Headmaster doesn't need me any more now that the Dark Lord has fallen, I've got no more information to give him – and I've failed him, I didn't know about Black, I couldn't save Lily, he's angry with me, and he'll let them throw me into Azkaban, he doesn't care about me. He'd been so distraught that he would have cried but he never cries, he didn't even cry when Lily died, and they'd be watching him anyway, any sign of weakness and Moody would be on him like a starving thestral on a dead sheep. And then he'd heard Dumbledore's voice in the corridor and he'd got a grip on himself, but he didn't try to hide how pleased he was to see the Headmaster. And when Dumbledore acknowledged him, patted his arm gently, he'd smirked at Moody, the boot was on the other foot now ...
But then Dumbledore had wanted him to sign a confession, a list of the things he's done for the Dark Lord, and he'd baulked at that … but Dumbledore had explained, if he signs a written confession it will be quick, a private hearing before the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the confession will be confidential, no one else has to know. He'll just have to say that he's sorry for what he's done and Dumbledore will vouch for him, tell Crouch that he left the service of the Dark Lord a long time ago and turned spy for the side of the Light. So he'd provided the information, reluctantly, Moody had insisted on being present, didn't Dumbledore realise that he was forcing him to hand weapons to Moody, knowledge that Moody could – and would - use against him? And although Dumbledore has never asked prying questions, has never uttered a word of reproach to him, has never shown revulsion or anger, he'd guessed at what the Headmaster - a wizard so principled that he hadn't used the Killing Curse against even Grindelwald himself - must be thinking. Of course Dumbledore must have a pretty good idea of the sorts of things he'd done, but he'd hoped that Dumbledore would never have to know the details, and it had made him cringe to have to vomit it all up.
He'd glossed over the Muggles, it's better just to say, "I killed countless Muggles," no need to go into details, Dumbledore has a soft spot for Muggles and it's best if he doesn't know about the nasty little game they played with the Muggles - and he'd choked a bit when they got to Regulus Black, that had been ugly, very ugly. Poor bloody Regulus, he didn't have the nerve or the ability … and when he decided that he wanted out, he must have gone to his older brother Sirius - Sirius Black, Golden Gryffindor, member of the Order of the Phoenix! He'd thought, Sirius must have shopped his kid brother to the Dark Lord, and I bet it was Sirius' idea to finger me for the job of executioner, because I was friends with Regulus when we both at school. One of the Dark Lord's little tests of loyalty, and I wasn't allowed to make it quick, Regulus had to suffer ... and everyone watched. And it's a daisy chain, if the Dark Lord had found out I'd turned traitor, he would probably have made Lucius do it, because he's my friend.
Oh yes, Sirius Black had betrayed his brother, and then he'd betrayed his best friend, the dirty dog, and they say that we Slytherins are treacherous! His lip had curled with disgust at the thought of Black, and then he'd realised - I've done what Black did, I've betrayed my friends, Wilkes and Rosier are dead and Lucius went to Azkaban because of me, because of the information I gave to Dumbledore, and Lucius might be going back again – for the rest of his life. And then he'd felt sick, if Lucius is sent back to Azkaban, Narcissa will completely fall apart, and they've got a kid, too, Draco is only a baby, what have I done? I know that Lucius is a nasty bastard but he's still my friend, and I never intended this to happen, I just wanted to save Lily ...
But he hadn't had the opportunity to dwell too much over the awful mess he'd made of his life, because Moody was badgering away at him, worrying at him until he got the admission that he wanted - the hypocritical prick, Moody's used the Avada Kedavra, he knows what a kick it is - but eventually he'd been so worn down that he'd muttered, "I enjoy killing. I don't do it any more. I know it is wrong," and finally Moody had left him alone with Dumbledore.
Then he'd told Dumbledore about the thing that's really upset him, Moody broke his wand, he's had that wand since before he went to Hogwarts and it's almost part of him - oak, dragon heartstring, thirteen inches – to have to watch it being broken in front of his eyes had been almost physically painful. And he feels blind and naked without it, even though they took his wand away from him the moment that they arrested him, the knowledge that it still existed and the hope of getting it back had been some comfort. Dumbledore had been sympathetic, given him some of his blasted sweets, promised that Crouch would see him first thing tomorrow morning – and they'll go to Ollivanders as soon as he's released.
And now he's waiting for Crouch, the examination should just be a formality, he's provided the confession that Crouch demanded, and there's no point in Crouch asking him questions – he's already told Dumbledore everything he knows. He's nervous but he's determined not to show it, he's thinking, I can get through this, shit, I lied to the Dark Lord for nearly a year and got away with it, I can handle this. But the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a busy man, he's running late, and they've been waiting for ten minutes. It's been a tense ten minutes, no one has said a word but Moody is radiating contempt and disgust, the young female recording clerk – who he vaguely recognises from his student days at Hogwarts – is anxious, and his nervousness is turning into irritation by the time Crouch walks through the door, takes the confession from the recording clerk, unrolls it and turns to him.
So this is Barty's dad! He'd almost forgotten about Barty, he hasn't seen Barty Crouch in well over a year, not since before he started teaching at Hogwarts ... and come to think of it, he's never mentioned Barty to Dumbledore, he'd never been on a mission with Barty and he'd just forgotten about him - it didn't seem important, there was so much other stuff happening. Crouch was beyond suspicion, and Barty wasn't one of the leaks in the Ministry, he wouldn't have anything to do with his father and he'd turned down the job in the Ministry that his father had arranged, which he'd thought at the time was a bit odd, because if Barty sucked up to his father and worked at the Ministry surely he'd be more useful to the Dark Lord ... whatever, it wasn't his business. So, oddly enough, he hadn't said anything to Dumbledore, and so unless someone else has ratted on Barty, Crouch still doesn't know that his son is a Death Eater, what a sick joke, the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a Death Eater, the son of the man tipped to be the next Minister for Magic belongs to the Dark Lord! And he knows that he should tell Dumbledore, but he thinks, what's the point of dragging Barty into this, he's just a kid and he probably hasn't done anything really bad, not like me, not like some of the stuff I've done, and it's all over anyway, it's all over now that the Dark Lord has fallen - and Barty was once a friend, and he didn't relish the thought of sending yet another friend to Azkaban, if he doesn't have to.
And then he wonders if Crouch will recognise him, he's only ever seen him once before, in the distance, and it was a long time ago, Crouch was still only the Head of the Auror Office, that day he was with Barty in Diagon Alley, that day that Barty had insisted that they turn down into Knockturn Alley, to avoid running into his father. Merlin's beard, that had been weird, he'd thought he'd hated his father, but he had nothing, nothing, on Barty, Barty had been really bitter ... Nope, doesn't look like Crouch has recognised him.
Crouch says, curtly, "Severus Snape, you have been brought here today to answer charges that you are a servant of the Dark wizard who styles himself Lord Voldemort, that you are a Death Eater. How do you answer?"
Dumbledore speaks for him, "Severus Snape was a Death Eater but he left Voldemort's service forever nearly a year ago. He turned spy for me and provided me with much valuable information."
Crouch is asking another question, "Dumbledore, how do you know that Snape isn't a double-agent? How do you know that you can trust him?"
He feels a stirring of resentment, why can't Crouch just take Dumbledore's word for it? And a touch of fear, but Dumbledore won't say, he promised ... he turns his head to look at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore answers, "That is a matter between myself and Severus Snape."
He looks back at Crouch, but something has changed ... Crouch is looking at him with real loathing and disgust, even without his wand he can tell that.
Crouch asks, "When did you become a Death Eater? When did you take the Dark Mark?"
He remembers his branding with the Dark Mark, Lucius had said, it will sting a bit, and that had been the understatement of the century ... but why is Crouch asking him these questions, it's all in his written confession, hasn't Crouch even bothered to read it? Or is this just an exercise in humiliation? Hell, what game is Crouch playing at? His eyes flick to the parchment in Crouch's hands. Resentfully, he replies, "When I was eighteen. It's all written down in my confession."
For some reason, this reply seems to make Crouch really angry ... and then he realises, Crouch knows – and no wonder he's pissed, if it comes out that his son is a Death Eater, it will be the end of his career, I can just see the headlines in the Daily Prophet, that vicious bitch Rita Skeeter will really make a meal of it!
Crouch looks at Dumbledore, asks, "Dumbledore, was Regulus Black one of your agents?"
He thinks, what's going on? Why is Crouch so interested in Regulus, is it because Regulus and Barty were best mates at school? Why does he have to drag this up? Bastard!
Dumbledore shakes his head, says, "I was unaware that Regulus Black had left Voldemort's service until it was too late, until it was too late to help him."
Crouch turns back to him and asks, "How did Regulus Black die?"
He remembers, and the memory is sickening, and he thinks, Regulus must have been made of tougher stuff that I thought, because it took him a while to die even though he'd been knocked around badly – very badly - before I killed him, he lasted ... how long? Five, six minutes? And why is Crouch badgering me about this? If he keeps pushing me like this, I'm going to have to push back.
He answers with just one word, "Crucio", and he gives Crouch a poisonous look, a warning look - drop it, Crouch. Read my lips, Crouch, I'm warning you, leave me alone or you'll regret it.
But Crouch won't leave him alone, now he's asking an intolerable question, "What do you know of Voldemort's attack on the Potters? Why did he choose to attack a baby? And where is he now?"
Is Crouch an idiot, to push him beyond endurance like this? Barty was a friend, but friendship has its limits ... Crouch, do I have join the dots for you, any more of this and you can kiss goodbye to your hopes of ever being Minister for Magic! He snarls, "I don't know! The Dark Lord didn't tell me everything, and what I do know, I've already told Dumbledore! I've told Dumbledore the name of every Death Eater I ever worked with!"
And he can see by the look in Crouch's eyes that he's finally got the message ... first rage and then fear, yes, Crouch is shitting himself now, he's realised who has the upper hand, and Crouch is turning to Moody, telling him, "I've got no more time for this, I should have been in Courtroom Ten five minutes ago, you can release Snape into Dumbledore's custody - and give him back his wand."
And then a fresh wave of bitterness sweeps over him, what wand? Moody broke it, didn't he, I wasn't expecting to be awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, but to be treated like this ... and he remembers the firefight in which he'd given Moody his wooden leg, he'd smashed every bone in his leg into fragments, and he thinks, watch out Moody, one day I'll get the chance to finish the job … and I'll pulverise every bone in your body, not just the ones in your leg.