Chapter Thirteen: Frost Damage
"That boy's soul is not yet so damaged," said Dumbledore. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."
"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"
"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation," said Dumbledore.
Severus woke with a gasp, heart pounding in his chest. His heavy black sheets were drenched with sweat. He had stopped taking Dreamless Sleep, as he was starting to feel lethargic during his waking hours, and his conversation with Dumbledore the summer prior had been haunting his sleep ever since.
His body ached with lack of sleep, and his temper was worse than ever, but he knew that the end was coming soon and he needed his thinking to be clear.
The weather warmed with the arrival of June, and the grounds turned a verdant green, but Severus could not feel the beginnings of summer. Draco was running out of time, but it seemed that the boy was getting closer to a solution, as a strange sort of calm had settled over him. If not a solution, then Draco had passed the point of being afraid anymore and had fully accepted his despair, which Severus could not help with. Draco had refused all his offers for help and Severus could only hope to be there when the end came.
Severus was pouring himself a second cup of coffee when the flames in his fireplace flared emerald green and spat out a slip of parchment. He picked it up, and saw the Headmaster's handwriting.
Today, it read.
"Thank you for advance notice of my execution services," Severus muttered, then wordlessly set the parchment on fire.
It would happen soon then. Severus was not prepared, but he knew that he had no choice. He was not prepared to kill his mentor of nearly twenty years, the only person who knew the true depths of his actions and accepted him for who he was. He knew he would never be prepared to kill his last tie to the Order, to the Light side, and that he might as well have been signing his own death sentence by killing Dumbledore, even if the Order won. No one else could vouch for him now.
Dumbledore must have sensed that the end was near, because he had met with Severus again two nights ago and asked him yet again to promise that he would do his task, and to look after the children in Dumbledore's absence. No matter how lax and negligent Dumbledore seemed, Severus knew that Dumbledore remained Headmaster of Hogwarts because he truly cared for his charges. It was not entirely untrue for Severus either—teaching had not been his profession of choice; he knew that he did not have the temperament to be dealing with children on such a regular basis, but he did care for them.
Severus paced in his drawing room. What did one do on their last day as a free man? He was not free now, but soon he would be cut off from all his true allies, forced to watch over his shoulder for threats from both sides. He could not give any indication to anybody of what was going on. He didn't know what would happen, but he knew he would receive a signal of some sort when it was time.
He laughed at that. Time. He had so much time when he was younger, and he had spent it in the worst way possible, then spent the rest of his life atoning. His time had run out.
There was nothing he particularly wanted to do. It was too tempting to say something to Minerva; he thought longingly of their last chess match, now doomed to be forever unfinished. He thought of Sprout, who he had still yet to get back to about a new fertilising solution. He had not spoken to Charity for ages, as to maintain an image of distance from the Muggle Studies teacher, and Flitwick was too flighty for his nerves, especially on this day. There was a pang in his heart when he thought of Hagrid, the only staff member who trusted him without reserve, with no reason other than the fact that he did. Seeing him would be too painful of a reminder of what he was about to lose.
Filled with restless energy, Severus decided to prowl the dungeons and make sure that the school had one last orderly day before everything went to shit.
The familiar chill of the Bloody Baron haunted his every step as he wandered the dungeons.
"What ails you, Potions Master?" the Baron asked, after Severus made his third circuit around the potions classrooms.
The Baron rarely spoke to Severus, but it was always significant when he did. The Baron had reminded Severus that Slytherins always played to win for their own outcomes when Voldemort first came back, which had helped bolster his resolve to continue spying.
"I am about to tear my soul, and consign myself to an endless existence," Severus said after checking that there were no people around. He said this because the Baron had once told him that damaged souls could not pass on when Severus asked about his own soul, which apparently had not been so damaged yet.
"It is true that damaged souls cannot pass on. Souls are as close to immutable as time is, but nothing is forever. Even damaged souls can be healed." The Baron materialised beside Severus, face hooded by his bloody robes.
Severus laughed bitterly. "Do you know how to fix a damaged soul then?"
"Would I be here still, if I did?" the Baron asked back, then vanished again.
Giving his walk up as a waste, Severus made his way to his office and sat at his desk. He did not want to spend all his energy before his services would be needed.
"Fuck." And then it occurred to him, in what seemed to be an extreme oversight on his part, that if Voldemort's soul was damaged because of his Horcruxes, they would need some way of repairing his soul so it could be sent on.
Somewhere, James Potter was laughing at him from beyond the grave, because there was no way that he was in any way qualified to ponder the intricacies of repairing a soul.
Severus buried these thoughts deep in his mind. He could not afford to be distracted today.
He stared at the piles of marking that he had collected from the end of term, and wondered why he had bothered with marking them in the first place. That was one aspect of his job that he would not miss. At least they were halfway through OWL and NEWT testing; even in the midst of war the children had been provided some semblance of an education. That it took until mid-June for the end to arrive was already more than he could have hoped for.
Ignoring the pile of books he had collected for researching methods of Horcrux destruction, he turned to his potions periodicals. He wouldn't absorb much while he waited for what felt like was his own execution, but it would give him something to do.
It was nearly lunch when he stopped reading completely. He had stopped many times due to the restless agitation that had taken over him, but he knew that he needed to conserve as much energy as he could for when the moment came. A house elf had left a tray of sandwiches on his desk without his notice.
Severus thought of taking one last walk around the grounds, giving the students one last innocent scare before they had something real to be scared about, feeding his marking to the Giant Squid, or even seeing Albus one last time. But he knew those things would only make things more difficult in the end.
After eating the sandwiches that he barely tasted, he decided to clear his mind, a practice he used to engage in before battles.
He extinguished all but one candle in his office, and sat in a relaxed pose with his eyes lightly closed. He breathed in deep and slow, and exhaled just as slowly. In his mind, he formed an image of a vast formless void, and focused on losing himself in the nothingness that was the space in between his thoughts. His thoughts briefly turned to the warmth of Granger's mind—their last Occlumency lesson had been a few weeks ago, and he knew he would miss the absolute trust he could feel in her mind, but he pushed past that thought, as he let all his thoughts pass.
He didn't know how long he spent, sitting still, processing his thoughts and feelings without feeling them too closely, clearing his mind bit-by-bit while focused on the sound of nothing but his own breathing and the image of nothing.
A whisper of a crack broke him out of his trance. It was close to eight, and dinner had appeared on his desk. Mind clear now, he managed to eat most of his steak pie. He felt as calm as he could, but did not think he could return to meditating, so he turned back to his potions periodicals.
He was engrossed in a highly theoretical article on the uses of potions to treat nerve damage—nothing he didn't know already—when Flitwick burst into his office. A glance at the clock told him it was nearly midnight.
"Severus, you must come with me! There are Death Eaters in the castle," the diminutive man said, hair sticking up wildly.
"Of course," Severus said smoothly, and cast a silent Stupefy on his colleague. Flitwick would be safe in his office, and he didn't want to duel with the former duelling champion tonight. There were enough issues as it was.
Severus tightened his grip on his wand and swept out of his office only to nearly stumble over Granger and Luna Lovegood.
There was no time to wonder why they were there, and here was another excuse to get more innocents out of the way of the fighting.
"Professor Flitwick has collapsed in my office," he said, "He needs assistance to reach the Hospital Wing. There are Death Eaters in the castle. I've been told I'm needed elsewhere."
He let his gaze sweep over the two young women, taking care not to look at Granger too closely. He didn't want to see what her face would look like when that trust was broken. He was not afraid to look into Luna's eyes; she might have been a natural Legilimens but his Occlumency was strong.
Lovegood and Granger nodded, their faces pale smudges in the dim dungeon lighting, and then they hurried into his office. Once they were inside, he sent a small slicing hex at one of his fingers, and sealed the doors with an unbreakable ward that would not expire for at least an hour. He doubted the fighting would last that long, but it was better safe than sorry.
Then he was off. It was silent in the dungeons, but he had some idea that the Death Eaters would want to choose a highly visible place.
As he passed by the potions stores, an idea came to him. He removed all but the weakest of wards guarding the ingredients, and continued on his way.
The Great Hall was empty of the usual castle inhabitants, but there were a few Order members looking alert. He heard someone mention the Dark Mark appearing over the Astronomy Tower and found his destination.
He paid little attention to his surroundings as he approached the Astronomy Tower. Nobody stopped him; for once, everyone was convinced he was on their side.
"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us—" he heard Bellatrix screech right as he entered the tower. He took in the scene in front of him: Dumbledore, lying prone on the ground, wandless. Draco, holding his wand with a wildly shaking grip, surrounded by three Death Eaters and a werewolf.
"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus said, "the boy doesn't seem able—"
There was a sudden hush as Dumbledore spoke. "Severus…"
Severus thought of nothing as he pushed Draco out of the way and walked closer to Dumbledore.
"Severus...please..." Albus was pleading.
Severus tried to cast with a clear mind but found that he couldn't. Severus let go of his Occlumency for a moment and channelled weeks of rage, resentment, despair, and bitterness.
The thing about the Killing Curse was that the caster had to mean it. The caster had to want the other person dead, will the other person no longer be living. The man in front of him was the one who had drawn the noose around Severus, and in that moment Severus felt nothing but hatred for him. Dumbledore had said that one could fuel the Killing Curse with mercy, but Severus felt too much to be fuelled by mercy just now.
He raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light hit Albus squarely in the chest. Something inside Severus tore to pieces. It was as if he was burning alive from the inside. It seemed Albus had been wrong about his soul after all.
Severus watched as his former mentor flew from the force of the curse and fell over the battlements. For a moment, time stood still.
Then the sounds of the Order approaching from behind reached him, and he came to himself.
"Out of here, quickly," he said, grabbing Draco by the scruff of his neck and forcing him through the door. Draco had stood frozen before he was forced on his feet, then he caught himself and ran with Severus and the rest of the Death Eaters.
More Death Eaters were in the castle as he tried to search for a way out. He sent stunning hex after stunning hex, not caring who he hit in his way so long as he could make it out. There were some who relished in the fight-he did not.
"It's over, time to go!" he shouted at the Death Eaters who had arrived. He had to draw them away from the castle—the Order had arrived and could handle this number of Death Eaters, but all it would take was for one child to investigate the sounds of fighting and decide to be a hero before the situation would turn into a real bloodbath.
Severus was just outside the main doors and running past Hagrid's hut when he felt a jet of magic shoot over his head, following the voice of Harry Potter shouting "Stupefy!"
He urged Draco forward, before turning to look at the Potter boy. Potter's wand was high and he was broadcasting his every move.
"Cruc—" Potter started, and Severus parried his attack with a snarl.
Someone set Hagrid's hut on fire.
"Cruc—" Potter tried again, and Severus blocked the attack again.
"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" Severus shouted, determined that in this, he would at least protect Lily's son from corruption. "You haven't got the nerve or the ability—"
"Incarc—" Potter tried again. It was laughably easy to block the attack with a languid wave of Severus' wand.
"Fight back!" Potter screamed at Severus. "Fight back, you cowardly—"
In that moment Severus saw nothing but James Potter. James, who hid his attacks behind Lily's back in the later days; James, who was the ringleader of the 'Marauders' who lived to make his life a misery; James, who never attacked unless backed up by his cronies. James, who had not lived to face the impossible choices that he had and soldiered on despite the awful hand that life dealt him.
"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" Severus shouted. He needed to end this, before Potter could get hurt, and Potter was always predictable with his sore spots. "Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?"
"Stupe—"
"Blocked again, and again, and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!" Potter needed to learn—
Severus turned away from Harry, and addressed the Death Eater behind Harry. "Now come! It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up—"
"Impedi—" Potter stopped on his own this time. Severus looked at Potter, who had kneeled over in the grass from someone else's curse.
"No!" Severus roared. "Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord—we are to leave him! Go! Go!"
The unbearable tension in his shoulders relaxed very slightly as the Death Eaters listened to him, and ran to the gates.
Potter screamed in rage, and Severus could feel his anger rising to match it; trust Potter to be the one to not appreciate another chance at living.
"Sectum—"
Severus faced Potter at this, face contorted with rage.
"No, Potter!" he screamed, and sent the softest blasting hex he could at Potter. Potter flew back and hit the ground hard, and lost his hold on his wand.
"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my own inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so...no!"
"Kill me, then," the boy said, panting, getting up to look for his wand. Severus wanted to laugh. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward—"
Severus wasn't laughing anymore. To be called a coward after he sacrificed everything to protect the boy—"DON'T—" he screamed, seeing red, "—CALL ME A COWARD!"
Severus slashed with his wand, and saw the boy fly back again from his magic. Suddenly Severus was dodging a number of sharp claws, and found himself under attack by a Hippogriff. The smell of animal mixed with the smell of smoke coming from Hagrid's blazing hut. Returning to himself, Severus ran for the gates without looking back, knowing that Potter and the school were safe, for the time being.
He barely passed by the gates before he pressed the burning mark in his arm and Apparated.
Severus took a moment to gather himself before he entered Malfoy Manor. He forced himself to feel nothing but relief and anticipation. He was not one prone to expressing extreme moods, but he had to manufacture some sense of celebration for the Dark Lord.
He strode into the Manor as if he owned it, and headed straight for the grand drawing room, where a black makeshift throne made of steel and stone rose from a dais and a series of ornate black chairs were arranged in a crude approximation of a court. The room was lit by a multitude of flickering candles but there was little light.
He bowed briefly at the door as an excited hush fell on the Death Eaters gathered.
"Severus, my dear boy…" Voldemort rose to greet him. The honour of this was not lost on him.
"I have heard the good news, and I am very pleased," he said, drawing closer and clasping his arms around Severus' shoulders. Severus willed himself not to flinch at the contact, to feel relaxed, to keep his mind clear.
Voldemort swung an arm out and gestured to the rest of the assembled Death Eaters, who were all standing.
"Today, one of our own has eliminated a most vexing problem of mine. Albus Dumbledore, who hides behind the protections of a castle full of children and refuses to meet me in open battle, is no more," Voldemort said, withdrawing from Severus to settle on his throne again.
"I am most pleased to announce that Severus, one of my most loyal, has accomplished this task," he said. Nagini slithered out from behind the throne, and tasted the air with her tongue. Seeming to find nothing interesting, she twined up the arm of the chair and settled her head in Voldemort's lap.
"Come, Severus. Let it be known that Lord Voldemort rewards loyalty. Name a boon, and I shall grant it," Voldemort said indulgently, gently patting Nagini on the head.
This was the moment that Severus had been preparing for.
"Hogwarts. I would like it," he said, his steady voice clear in the vast room.
"As Headmaster?" Voldemort looked a little surprised, but not hesitant.
"Yes, if you would please," he said.
"How fitting!" Voldemort laughed. "It shall be done. Wait two months, and the school is yours."
Two months, Severus thought, before letting that thought dissipate into nothingness.
"I have another request, if you would be so generous," Severus said, willing his heart to keep a steady beat.
"Oh?" Voldemort's voice held a warning.
"Draco has proved himself most cunning and adept during the course of this school year. Without him we could not have overwhelmed the castle defences. Please allow me to oversee his training from now on," said Severus, voice and face carefully blank. Severus had to control the narrative, had to make it seem like this was the plan that they had all agreed on all along to keep Draco safe.
"Hmmn," Voldemort turned his head to peer thoughtfully in the corner, where Draco stood stock still, half hidden behind his parents.
"And you would take on a boy who could not kill a defenceless man?" Voldemort asked. There was a collective inhale, and the silence in the room was heavy with anticipation as they all waited to hear Severus' words.
"Draco has proven himself most useful in the past years as my student, and I believe his talents should be well utilised despite his weakness," Severus replied evenly, mind as blank as he could make it. "He is still young, and has much to learn. He would be of great assistance to me when I become Headmaster."
"It is done then," Voldemort said, suddenly sounding bored. The tension in the room eased by several degrees.
"I grow weary of discussing these tiresome matters. A great task has been accomplished tonight, and we move forward with our plans. It is late, but let us celebrate. Narcissa, would you kindly prepare the refreshments?" Voldemort said, dismissing Nagini with a flick of his fingers.
Narcissa Malfoy replied in the affirmative, and left the room, only a faint tremor of her hands betraying her mental state. The Dark Lord had killed all but two of the Malfoy elves, and she had been forced to clean and cook in the Manor as punishment for Lucius' failures. It was a testament to her strength that she took her punishment stoically and managed to produce impossible feasts despite her handicaps. Severus suspected that she had some help from house elves or friends from other families, but had kept his thoughts to himself.
He looked around him at the faces of his fellow Death Eaters while he waited for Voldemort. Admiration, envy, and hatred he saw in their expressions. There was once a time that he would have welcomed those looks. He didn't want any of that now, but now was not the time to be thinking those thoughts.
Voldemort rose from his seat, and followed Narcissa out of the room.
Severus fell in line with Lucius and Draco as they walked to the dining room; Lucius looked as if he did not know whether to be relieved or not, and Draco was as pale as a ghost.
Severus did not say anything. There was nothing to be said; it was entirely due to the death of Dumbledore raising Voldemort's mood that had allowed Draco to escape punishment for failing to carry out his task. He did not know whether Draco would be grateful but it did not matter.
When they entered the drawing room, Voldemort indicated the seat to his right for Severus. Severus forced himself to feel honoured, and sat. The table was laden with finger foods and champagne; there were small pastries and cakes; salads of fennel and oranges; tomato, cheese, and onion tarts; baskets of fresh bread; tureens of soups in cream, orange, and green; and other foods he could not identify. The Malfoy elves had outdone themselves, and Severus had never been less hungry in his life.
"Please enjoy yourself, Severus. I find killing always works up an appetite," Voldemort said with a fond smile, and Severus managed to turn up the corners of his lips in something that wasn't a grimace. It was good that he was normally prone to scowls or expressionlessness, because he could barely twist his face into something that was not a grimace. Beneath his Occlumency, he could still register the searing pain from the Killing Curse.
Fortunately for him, Voldemort was distracted by the arrival of Yaxley to his left, and instantly became engrossed in a discussion of how much they could accomplish at the Ministry now that Dumbledore was out of the way.
Various Death Eaters congratulated him as they passed him to take their seats. Severus inclined his head at their praise and tried to look busy with his plate.
The Death Eaters ate boisterously, the mood celebratory as they revelled in the good mood of Voldemort and the fact that one of their major opponents was gone. Even Bellatrix had nothing bad to say to Severus for once. Only the Malfoys seemed to be in as poor spirits as Severus felt on the inside.
Severus overfilled his plate, and made a show of eating. He would stay for an hour, and retire early. It was past midnight now, after all, and he had the excuse of having a long day. He tried not to notice the slow progress forward of the clock hand of Malfoy's antique grandfather clock, going in the opposite direction of what he wished. He had long learned the futility of wishing for time to go backwards.
He continued to Occlude heavily the entire night. The lightest brush of frost formed on his fork from the chill of his Occlusion, but no one noticed.
Hermione nearly melted with relief when Harry finally dragged himself into the Hospital Wing. She had missed the fighting completely, having been tasked with bringing Flitwick to the Hospital Wing with Luna, and had spent the time with Luna helping Madam Pomfrey deal with the injured as they trickled in after the fighting stopped. There was a sense of grim satisfaction when she used her basic healing skills to deal with minor scrapes and wounds. At some point one of the large hourglasses holding the gems for the House Points had burst, and the shattered glass had cut several members of the Order.
She ran from the hospital bed where Bill was lying with his mangled face, and crushed Harry in a fierce hug. He hugged her back too, before stepping back to look over her shoulder. Hermione stepped aside to allow Harry space to see Bill for himself, and said nothing as Harry and Lupin engaged in a conversation about whether Bill was to become a werewolf or not.
Ron was going on about how Bill had been fighting for Dumbledore, and how Dumbledore owed him when Ginny said Dumbledore was dead.
"How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"
"Snape killed him," said Harry. "I was there, I saw it…"
Hermione could not hear the rest of what Harry said. There was a curious sense of her consciousness leaving her body; her senses dulled and all she could feel was the thunderous beat of her heart. It was hard to breathe. For one moment, she could not believe what Harry said, but from the expression on Harry's face she knew he was telling the truth. Her head swam. She didn't understand.
Then Fawkes was singing. It was a mournful melody, making the death of the Headmaster real. She had begun to doubt the Headmaster in recent months, but his death could only mean that things were going to get worse.
Snape had killed Dumbledore. Her eyes stung with tears. It didn't seem real.
It became more real when people began voicing their doubts about Snape, and she remembered how earlier in the day Harry had told her that Snape was the one who had overheard the prophecy. Then Harry dropped the bombshell.
"Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realised what he was doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead."
"And Dumbledore believed that?" said Lupin incredulously. "Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James…"
"And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn, either," said Harry, "because she was Muggle-born… "Mudblood", he called her…"
Hermione's head spun. It all made a cruel sort of sense—Snape had been friends with Lily once, but remembering the end of her conversation with Slughorn and his warning to never let go of Harry as a friend, she realised that he must have had a falling out with Lily. Hermione knew that Snape hated Harry's father.
Was his protection of Harry all part of an elaborate act? But then why help her without Dumbledore's knowledge? She couldn't think. There were too many people speaking, and the Hospital Wing was too bright, smelled too astringent. Her limbs felt numb. Snape had been friends with Lily once, and was a Half-blood. But he had killed Dumbledore. Snape had helped her send her parents away, without knowing their final location—but he had killed Dumbledore.
Then Harry asked her for her account of the evening, and Mr and Mrs Weasley arrived. Mrs Weasley finally accepted Fleur after her impassioned defence of her relationship with Bill despite his disfigured face and werewolf wounds, and Tonks and Remus had a confrontation...everything was happening in slow motion, and none of it real.
She barely noticed when Harry left the Hospital Wing with Professor McGonagall, or when Madam Pomfrey herded her to a small cot in the corner and told her to sleep.
She didn't sleep for a long time, mind empty and buzzing and unable to make sense of anything. Snape had killed Dumbledore. Her heart thudded dully, each beat making her aware of the muted pain in her chest. Nothing made sense anymore.
AN: I was blown away from the response the last chapter got (and all the chapters so far really)! A huge thank you to everyone, especially JessL, for all the wonderful comments you've all left. I'm very excited to hear what you all think of this one. :)