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HP still belongs to Rowling.
Chapter 16. Falling – part two
Severus had no energy left to waste on howling against the wind and pain. He grabbed on the rocks with desperate determination and climbed up on the road. Struggling to his feet, he was sure he could never regain his composure before he left this damned island behind, so without giving a thought of possible splinching, he turned on his heels and Disapparated for Little Hangleton.
Upon arriving at a field just outside the village, Severus fell and didn't even try to move. He kept choosing this spot for its easy distance from the old manor house, but now lying on his face in the short grass, he appreciated it anew. Although the ground was cold with the autumn chill, the sun shone warm on his back, and the grass held the smell of recent rain. Lying there with arms stretched about him, it felt as like hugging the earth, and with the comforting sunshine and the raindrops on the grass, the earth seemed to hug him back. Severus melted into this unexpected moment of peace until life and strength returned to him, then readied himself to face the inevitable.
Entering the ramshackle manor, muffled voices came into his ears from the parlour. An actual crowd gathered already in the house, and the Dark Lord called him as soon as he stepped through the threshold.
"Step closer, Severus. I want to see in your eyes the truth of Avery's tale."
He walked through the living room, carefully avoiding the giant snake, noting Malfoy with his monkeys, a sure sign Cissy was not around; Nott among his French friends, all seemed to come but Iris and the Roux; Nott and two guys he hasn't seen since – well not long enough; and finally Avery, who wore such a smug look he found it alarming.
"See, Severus, Avery was so eager to repay his debt to you. Turns out he diligently watched after you and cast a locator spell this morning to see where your business could take you from your appointed station. Can you imagine his surprise when he saw you visiting Azkaban?"
The Dark Lord's voice was mild, but it only made it more threatening. Severus swallowed dry and tried to win some time to figure what could have been going on in his absence.
"My lord, I am very much admiring the way your presence influenced him to a level he could successfully cast a spell. Had he come and asked me, he could have spared the effort."
He heard Malfoy repress a chuckle and saw Avery turning confused eyes on him, but the only thing of import was the small sparkle of amusement in the red eyes that searched him.
"We may appreciate your savage remarks, Severus, but this time you're unjust. Avery here took good care of you. Now you are in a position to account for the journey to Azkaban."
Severus bowed and kept all appearances of an open mind but couldn't help asking: "Might this mean, my lord, his debt is finally settled?"
Now the amusement was less recognizable in those inhuman eyes.
"Do you need me as a judge, my servant? Or should you make your own case with your indebted? Avery, do you find your case settled for last and plan to focus your attention on your appointed tasks?"
It was hard not to sigh with relief as Voldemort's attention turned on Avery. The fact he trembled under his gaze was the cherry on the cake. It was too good a moment to last. On a light lift of Voldemort's wand, Severus and Avery both emerged in the air and travelled about thirty feet each to a respective corner of the room.
"Am I to tolerate your childish games? Your mindless rivalry? Your mercantilism and self-interest?" – With every question, a different Death Eater fell backwards, and the Dark Lord crossed the room. "Your impudence! Did you deem me a worthy part in your infantile quest to satisfy your undeserved pride?"
The long black wand turned on Avery, and the room filled with his harrowing cries. When the man had no more strength to use his voice, Voldemort turned from him and targeted Snape.
He would have already pulled himself up from the floor if he could, but in his fall, his leg got caught on something, and his head hit the wall without anything reducing the impact. Severus first hit the wall with the back of his head, then fell on his face, unable to move for moments. His first realization upon gathering his senses were the agonizing screams from Avery's throat, and revealing how much his consciousness was still wandering, first he wasn't even sure if it was him who screamed or not.
When Avery's cries subsided, Severus was finally able to find some coherence in his thoughts. The Dark Lord wanted a detailed account of his dealings. Also, he probably wished for his advancement in gathering the prophecy. Damned bloody prophecy! Can't he ever get rid of his misfortune ever coming across it?
It was no time for self-pity, although the temptation was severe. It felt like something closed the roads for every train of thought, for every possible approach to give an acceptable report. Dumbledore made it clear, he must not share a word about the Hall in the Department of Mysteries or about the reasons behind Podmore's failure. He had straight orders against revealing the Headmaster's curiosity on any kind of dark artifacts too. So what was there that remained to show?
Severus looked up at the raspy sound of swishing robes and saw Voldemort already approaching him. Panic had to be shoved away with the remnants of his force of will.
Umbridge used a Black Quill. Dumbledore was anxious about Knockturn. He wanted the background and listed her messing with half-bred legislations. Fuck, what did he say?!
Salis' tale was particularly boring; he only had to cut the end. Schoshak – the memory of his earlier rage gave some clarity to his thoughts even now. Also, he nearly lost it there. His Patronus didn't work. Let's just cut the scene there and hope for the best. No way was he ready to show the desperate digging through his closed-up mind, thus revealing his own secrets!
Now he had something to show.
Podmore. He was in a sad state; there was no harm in showing his black-veiled mind. Potter's hearing would amuse the Dark Lord. He could even mix in some of his own memories. Lucius's curse was enough for the Headmaster. Let's just leave it at that!
"Aaaargggh" A rumbled cry escaped his lungs as his body lifted in the air. Severus could hardly recognize his own voice.
"Legilimens!"
Severus' mind produced images and fragments of feelings in deliberate rapidity. Dumbledore's nonverbal Legilimency in the Great Hall, his waiting on him in his office. Snape's impudence at the sight of those old fingers piled together like a tent. He could not escape the Headmaster mentioning Sage's role but pulled through it quickly and focused on the Quill. The change in the Headmaster's eyes. He asked for background on Umbridge, and he listed all he held against her. Snape was horrified. Why deny it? The shores close to Azkaban; he sent sparks into the air. Podmore looked like he was dying. His mind was an empty mess, no conversation, just pulling the veil. He nearly got sick but pulled again—the hearing. The vision of that thrice-damned chair – a memory of his own horror and pain radiated through the memory, of course, the Dark Lord changed direction! Young Snape's escapade abroad of consciousness thankfully stopped the intruding mind.
"Is that all?" Voldemort demanded, and Severus saw those piercing red eyes again.
He made a weak attempt to shake his head, but it caused immense pain, and he sensed the distinct smell of blood – probably his own.
"No, my lord," – he managed to rasp out and relayed Lucius's curse, wondering if the Headmaster should know about it.
Salis' tale was boring enough, the Dark Lord made him skip it entirely, and Schoshak was dead.
"You will hardly prove yourself a useful servant for the old man," Voldemort remarked, letting Snape's body fall.
His shoulders, neck and head were thick with pain, but Severus clung to consciousness and tried to gather himself as much as he could.
"I am sorry, my lord, for not serving you better. My greatest aim is to gather more about what you are searching for."
"I could see that."
These words might have been spat on a tone of contempt but still carried a measure of comfort. He did not fail yet.
Voldemort turned to ask Lucius. The pathetic old sweat only now tried to stand up from the floor. Severus wondered how he'd fallen there. He had no memory about the time between his fall and the Dark Lord finishing with Avery at all.
As Lucius now trembled and struggled under that red glare, Severus risked a silent Episkey aimed at the back of his neck and head. The dizziness didn't stop, but he felt a modicum better, and he could move again without maddening pain. He had felt worse, he decided and closed the bothering ill-feeling into a separated box of his mind.
Lucius relayed in his usual quiet and sanctimonious voice his experiment with Podmore. "He was the right target, even if he couldn't overcome the Unspeakables guarding the Hall. We couldn't send in another since he failed. Thus I have to suspect the Order is guarding the corridor."
"This is not enough!" The Dark Lord's voice pitched high with his fury. "Avery!"
The man moaned in the opposite corner from Snape's. "Ennervate!" Voldemort lazily flicked his wand and asked again. "Avery, what holds back the advancement on the corridor in front of the Hall of Prophecies?"
"I am yet to understand that, my lord. Lucius thinks it must be the Order for we are yet to- "
The Dark Lord turned away with a growl. "I should find a more competent servant to assist me against your bungling! Lucius!"
"Yes, my lord" – he bowed low in front of the fuming dark wizard.
"You mentioned one you have great hopes in. The one settled close to Dumbledore."
Malfoy was only too eager to reply. "She's not yet one of us, my lord, but Iris Dubois sponsors her, and Lefevre here attests to her abilities. She is the one he bargained with you before. Iris guaranteed me she would join our endeavours with sufficient persuasion."
"How come, my servant, you haven't convinced her already? Don't I keep you for your refined skills in persuasion?" As the tone of the question turned milder, Malfoy's neck shortened until the wizard seemed to lose inches of his height.
"I could get near her, my lord, I already have high hopes in her joining us, but she's hesitant and has an-"–Lucius cleared his throat visibly embarrassed – "an uncommon resistance against Imperius. But she is not a hopeless case!" – He hurried to highlight – "She may be teaching at Hogwarts and close to Dumbledore, but her cousin arranged our frequent meetings. I… "– he hesitated – "I did all I could. My lord."
The way he bowed again showed his fear of punishment clear enough, but Severus found he could not commiserate with him like other times. This base, brutish, bitchy bastard just put up Beauxbatons of all possible choices! What the bloody hell did he mean he frequently met her? Then slowly, it dawned on him. Sage refused his help against her cousin's plot. A plot to make her Lucius's target. And the only one he could fault her being exposed to Iris… Oh, gods, have mercy! If Lennier never came in his way, if he didn't kill him if he didn't betray his remorse… It was his own fault! Again!
While the Dark Lord sent Lucius to get the girl for him to examine, Severus had the strangest sensation like the ceiling and walls were rolling over him, and breathing became as challenging as if he was still within the circle of Dementors. Should he never even think of anyone… never consider trust, hope or a measure of care to receive? To accept? But he screwed it even before he came to understand his possible loss. He could never redeem himself; he just keeps sinking lower and lower to this mud!
The truest fright only came when his vision darkened, and Severus realized he was not in any position to give himself to panic. No thought about redemption, arnica, or friendship. He would only make all worse! Occlude, dammit! Discipline your mind!
And he did. In so short a time, he was ashamed of it there were no more feelings or humanity. It took less than a minute from his initial bewilderment to the total blankness of thought and feeling. He watched Malfoy leaving the room and heard the pop of him Deapparating, unblinking. When Voldemort sought him out with his red reptile eyes, Snape respectfully stood up in the corner to face him.
"Severus, you never mentioned such a treasure is hiding right under your nose."
"Lucius never told me he was in any need of my aid." He kept his composure. "Had he ever asked my opinion, I could have told him, the witch is far too close to Dumbledore to try."
"Could she know more about the old man's dealings? Aren't you jealous that she might be of more use?"
"If I believed she was able to help you, you would have already had her assistance, my lord."
Voldemort probed his mind for long seconds but could find nothing that showed falsity.
"We will see if you or Lucius has a better understanding of her character. If Dumbledore likes having her around, the old fool better hopes you judge her wrong and Lucius is right." The Dark Lord chuckled, and most in the room politely joined his amusement. Snape couldn't make himself crack a smile.
Contradicting any impossible hopes, Lucius soon returned with the witch Severus didn't want to see here at all. She wore her knee-length Hogwarts robe above a Beauxbatons-blue skirt, like all days of the last month. Her hair was tidy and this time hung to her shoulders, signalling she wasn't coming from the school. Her bony hands curled into fists as the only sign of her possible discomfort.
Lucius bowed deep, but she only politely nodded and waited for someone to address her.
"Here she is, my lord, came voluntarily to your service."
Voldemort seemed well-pleased.
"Has she?" – He looked at the witch.
"I came voluntarily indeed, your lordship, but I doubt I am ready for any kind of service."
"You doubt, do you?" The hissing voice was menacingly quiet. "Come closer!"
Sage reluctantly stepped closer indeed but covertly tried to hold some distance. For Voldemort's wave of a wandless hand, her body lifted on her toes, her back bend backwards, and she shifted as close as arm length. Levitating about an inch above the floor, she turned her face away with obvious disgust.
Voldemort forced her to look upon his face. "Do you find me repulsive, witch?"
"Sir, you have no nose!"
About half the room sank into bewildered silence, while the other half was in an uproar of outrage. The Dark Lord reached to hold her chin up, and his piercing red eyes sank into the depth of her gaze. Snape didn't wince when he heard her shriek with the sudden pain.
"Another occlumens!" Voldemort announced with a cold laugh. "Let me show you how pathetic and useless your art is against me!"
Another shriek signalled the moment the Dark Lord's Legilimency touched her mind, and Snape's teeth clenched involuntarily. He was familiar with this touch and knew only too well how damaging it could be even when the Dark Lord didn't want to cause special pain. If Voldemort decided to destroy her from the inside to punish her impudence, no living soul would ever get her out of St Mungo's.
The battle held longer than he expected, and Severus found himself reciting all the reasons why he should not intervene. He simply must not. His teeth clenched so strong it brought back the headache, but then with a sudden cry of agony, the witch's body collapsed on the floor, and Voldemort took a deep breath like someone just emerged from under the sea.
Severus could only stare at the unmoving body, and for his intense shock, it suddenly wavered. Like her body disappeared for a millisecond but widening his eyes, he saw her lying there the same. It must have been something wrong with his vision. Probably his head colliding the wall.
"Hold her up!" Voldemort commanded, and Nott and Lefevre hurried to pull her into a standing position, adjusting her face to let the Dark Lord look into her eyes.
"This one begs to be killed!" – Voldemort told the room. "No wonder, child, you are so daring if you believe the worst fate was your death! But rest assured, I will not kill you… for a very long time."
Sage's cry marked the second he entered her mind again, and Snape's struggles began anew. He knew his suffering was nothing compared to hers now, but he couldn't feel the agony more if was it his mind under pressure. This time the torture was shorter and ended with the Dark Lord slapping her across the face with the back of his palm.
"INSOLENT!"
By the force of the hit, she sank lower in Nott's grasp, and Snape relived the sensation like something was wrong with his eye-sight.
"Once more you try to enter my thoughts, witch, and I will torture you out of your mind!"
It was unbelievable, impossible, but she didn't seem to be worn out by the Dark Lord's trespasses!
"Show me Dumbledore!"
"Show me the prophecy!"
"Show me the Order!"
"Show me!"
"Show me…"
The questions came endlessly, marked with her shrieks, collapse, wavering, persisting. It was maddening to watch. However, unlike the others in the room, for Snape it was also encouraging. He could not fathom for the life of him how she could do it, but the fact she showed no fatigue was a spark for hope.
"Show me the prophecy! Show me what you know!" – Voldemort commanded again, but this time when the witch collapsed, he signalled for Nott to let her fall.
"Leave her!" – He cried with contempt. "Your candidate knows no more than my Severus!" The Dark Lord turned to Lucius with fury. "Crucio!"
He showed his wand first fleetingly to Malfoy, then to Sage, and the room filled with cries of anguish. Severus wished he could turn away, or close his eyes, even more his ears, but there was no help. With compulsive masochism, he watched the witch's body writhe on the floor and hoped for the miracle of her form wavering again, of her mind somehow surviving the torture, of any chance for her to escape the worst. But her cries dulled into silent groaning like he saw others' dull before the end and realized he had no means to stop this—nothing, but to slowly watch her leave the world of the sane.
Goddam Dumbledore! Damn him to the seventh depths of hell! He didn't help Lily, he didn't stop this madman, and he never stepped in to save someone's soul! But his. WHY? At the trial, however unworthy, he saved him… and thrice-damned Potter, who couldn't die! To what end?! How could he let her go through this insane plan? Why had she never told him of Lucius's advances? What the fuck did Mad-Eye think to leave her alone with that loathsome cousin of hers and abandon his own daughter to this fate?! If he just stood up and betrayed Podmore's memories…
"My lord, I beg you to spare her! Please, think about the deal we made!" – The timid voice of Martin Lefevre seemed stronger in the silent room than it actually was. Severus unconsciously held his breath, realizing what a mistake he'd come close to making. Miraculously, the Dark Lord turned towards Lefevre and lifted his wand. All the eyes in the room turned on the bold man, who tried to reason with Voldemort in his ire. All but two.
"My lord, you have all our alliance but the Rasicals. This witch is half-Rasical, on her mother's right and already possesses the Coquinne fortune as the only heiress of Héloïse Coquinne. With her on our side, we could spread your rule through half of Europe. For your benefit, my lord, I beg you, give her one more chance."
Snape only half-heartedly listened to Lefevre's appeal and watched the witch's unmoving body on the floor with growing alarm. What if it was already too late? He was close to giving up all hope when her form finally wavered. He couldn't ever tell why he felt so relieved, but it gave him back that spark of hope.
As he watched her eagerly, Sage opened her eyes, and their gazes met. Suddenly her look turned lighter, and he was sure she had stopped occluding. Wide-eyed, he stared at her before he realized it for what it was: an invitation. Probably the only chance to communicate. A cautious glance toward the Dark Lord and a nonverbal Legilimens.
Severus suddenly found himself in Hogwarts, the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore walked his rounds between the window and Fawkes' perch, a sure sign of his rare moments of agitation.
"Have you thought this over?" – The Headmaster suddenly turned to one of the armchairs. Sage sat there comfortably, with her feet pulled up under her skirt. "Would you risk all the knowledge you gathered about us all, all you know about your father, not to mention your life for a gesture?"
"Albus, you know me better than that," – she smiled calmly but with a defiant glint in her eyes. "Should I remind you who I am? I'm not far enough away to forget that I am responsible for my blood and people. I will do what I deem the best for them. If you're afraid I know too much, by all means, lend me your pensive!"
The Headmaster didn't look pleased at all. "I might." He continued his pacing and finally stopped by the phoenix, visibly relaxing while caressing the bird. "If I cannot convince you to leave it at that, why did you insist upon my involvement?"
Sage leaned back in the armchair. "Oh, Albus, it only makes sense. I cannot let Lucius torture my cousin, and he made it clear that he or your Tom will eventually kill her. You have people to look after. Would you just watch them die? I doubt you wouldn't risk your life for the Order or for your spy as a matter of fact, so why do you suppose I shouldn't? Moreover, I need you to do me a favour."
"Sage, dear girl, I might go a great length for some, but the war has its necessities." The old wizard sighed. "Your grandmother knew this only too well, I remember. Sometimes we endure for the greater good. The crimes and sins the enemy commits are none of our choices."
"But our reactions are." The witch sat up, and she wasn't smiling anymore. "Albus, I might fail, but I don't do this blindly. You know my family more than most, we have magic rarely known or used, and I have a plan. Now may I have your word you carry out my last will if I fail?"
Dumbledore hung his head for a moment, but the phoenix chirped melodically, and that made him smile and nod. "All right, you have my word that I will indeed try. Although I cannot be sure if I can protect your aunt."
"Thank you, Albus. And the other matter?"
"Why would you worry for Severus now? I assure you, my dear, that boy keeps proving himself stronger than any of us gave him credit for as a lad."
"I cannot know about that. I only ask, don't let him see it. Please, Albus! You've been around since I was a mere girl. For the sake of our past, for your memories of grand-mere. Would you want me to beg you to spare him the sight?"
"I can send him for an errand so you'll be alone." The Headmaster decided. "Hopefully, this will make it easier for you to come back and tell me the tale." He waited for the witch to smile with gratitude before he went on. "If it comes to that, I wouldn't mind if you gathered some knowledge about Tom's set of mind. Is your plan good enough?"
The memory suddenly blurred, and Severus found himself out of the witch's mind. He had no time to dwell upon all he just learnt, as Sage barely had a chance to restore her occlumency shields. The Dark Lord stepped closer to the witch and kicked her leg to see if she was still around.
"Could you hear what he says? I saw it in you, you know him!" All watched as Sage slowly gathered enough strength to sit up and turn her head towards the Dark Lord. "Your value lies with your bond to Dumbledore and the service you can do for your compatriots. Your skills cannot assist you against me, and I know you want to save that dear cousin of yours."
She gave no reply, and the Dark Lord motioned for the Frenchmen to stand her up. Leroy stood closest for his misfortune, and when he reached for her arm, the witch spat on his offered hand with violent fury.
"Don't you dare to touch me, worm, remember my promise!"
"Finally!" Voldemort cried out with something in its coldness resembling a laugh. He waited for Martin Lefevre to reach and steady his prey. "How could you possibly yield to the temptation to live out your true self if your enemy haunts you from our rows? I understand your feelings…" Sage stared at the reptile-like face with something like bewilderment, but the Dark Lord went on. "You cannot believe your pathetic machinations could stop me from searching your soul! All that knowledge of darkness engraved in you! Whoever trained you did a fine job. Indeed, nothing for the old fool to accept or to choose! I make it easier for you."
With that, the Dark Lord waved for Leroy to step before him.
"Unfortunately for you," – he told the wizard in his mildest tone – "your mind and heritage would never develop to be such an asset. Avada Kedavra."
With a flash of green light, Leroy's corpse landed on the floor next to Sage, and for the first time since she entered the room, the witch looked truly frightened.
"Make your choice, witch!" – Voldemort commanded, pointing his wand on her heart. "You join your enemy, and I pay my visits to your loved ones in person, or swear me your loyalty and be who you really are."
Sage Moody slowly bowed to the Dark Lord with trembling knees, crawled to his feet, and kissed the edge of his robe.
"Forgive my obstinacy, my lord. You are gracious to gift me. I am your humble servant. I swear on my wand, I choose my real self for now and for all."
Severus felt like day suddenly turned into night, and it was effortless to keep his feelings and thoughts closed up for good. He didn't even look up as Lucius escorted the witch out of the room and put her in Iris's care. He was not at all ready for the next words that came.
"Be this a proof that no one can defy me. Severus, you must be overjoyed! Lucius's candidate proved your worth immensely. You know more about the Order than the one Dumbledore believes to be his own pet. Now come, my servant, I'm in a good mood and ready to reward your repeated efforts." With that, the Dark Lord walked past him, and Severus absently bowed to his back. With his mind shut with locks, there remained nothing but practised awareness. And he followed his lord out of the old manor.
His so-called reward apparently waited in an abandoned ruin of a house a short distance from the village's other side. As they turned on a cart road that led into a forest, Severus's instincts protested with alarm. When he saw the house, it seemed to moulder under the weight of years. With the short stairs already broken, Severus had to climb up to the door. He clenched his teeth against the returning ache to his head and nape, but when Voldemort whispered an Alohomora and entered the ruins, he followed.
The inside of the house was dark, with ages of dust covering the windows, and the smell of rot and mould lingered everywhere.
"Where are we, my lord?" – Severus risked asking. Regarding how this day progressed, he expected the worst.
"In what used to be called the house of the Gaunts." Voldemort graciously replied with more than a hint of affection in his voice. "It is only just if I use what belongs to me."
Snape looked around in what probably used to be a living room and watched the Dark Lord pulling a long pale finger on a table, drawing a channel instead of a line into the dust. The table's legs modelled snakes, just like everything that remained in the house was ornamented in the same kind.
"Muggles fear and avoid this place" – the Dark Lord told him with apparent amusement. "But you should not, Severus. Your justification came just in time. I can sense you didn't neglect your practice. We have to develop your skills, my loyal servant."
"I am grateful, my lord, for- "
"As you rightfully should be. Now show me what you've learned!" – Voldemort cut his words and waited.
Snape stuck to the approach he'd previously used. Although his stance faltered and his head throbbed with the returning ache, he released some of the bonds tying down his magic, but carefully not too far. He felt his magic tingling at the edges of his fingers, waiting to shoot out at the smallest sign of a goal.
The Dark Lord's searching gaze travelled Snape's face, form and eyes while he lifted a handful of dust from the table with magic, curled it into a ball by pure will, then let it fall apart.
"I couldn't catch the incantation you recited in your mind." Voldemort thoughtfully noted.
Severus swallowed with some alarm, but he smoothly replied it was only a simple levitation spell. The Dark Lord shook his head.
"Severus, Severus, you are and have always been a pathetic liar. Maybe that is the reason I trust you against the advice of some… What made you attempt wordless magic?"
There was no use to even try to deny. "I read about it in an old tome at Hogwarts, and my curiosity was piqued, my lord."
"The Secrets of the Dark Arts?"
Snape became visibly confused. "That tome is not even in the Restricted Section. The Evilest of Darkness – An advanced Guide through the Night, by Protea Blackthorn. It conveyed an obscure hint of the possibility, and I tried to catch her meaning."
"Don't be too modest, Severus. This is more than most wizards achieve. However, I advise you to be more cautious in your explorations, for once you fully release your magic, you will not be able to bind it down again. It will turn against you, may even destroy you. Now let me right your error and bind it back to you! What spell did you use to unbind your magic?"
Severus tried hard not to show his surprise. He swallowed again but could not fathom what to make of the question.
"Only my will, my lord." He confessed when he realized there was no escape this time.
Those red eyes narrowed with disbelief, but no searching could possibly reveal anything but the truth.
"Attack me then!"
Severus' eyes rounded wide with fear. "My lord?"
"Heard me, servant, attack me with that unbound magic you have! I will not destroy you."
Dumbledore's words came to mind. …you already exceeded that point, Voldemort, Tom, now knows this. And he has to decide whether you prove to be an enemy or a good ally.
Severus collected another ball of dust, and, resigned to his fate, he shoved it onto the Dark Lord. Voldemort easily stopped it before it could reach his face.
"Forget the dust!"
Severus was now truly unnerved – a rare occurrence in his hazardous dealings – and tried to escape the challenge. All in vain. Making sure he only used a fragment of what he had at his disposal, he debated the spells he experienced with. Lighting a fire did not seem a good choice; collecting charm was useless unless he tried for the wand. However, trying to collect his wand from the Dark Lord didn't seem a good approach either. So the levitation charm.
Carefully he tried to lift the Dark Lord like he remembered training with the limb of the elm tree at Spinner's End, and to his greatest surprise, Voldemort slightly seemed to encant—his answering spell was forceful and intense. It shoved Snape onto the table without hope to protect his aching head.
"You'd better stick to your potions," – Voldemort advised with mocking kindness. "Your skill is only enough to grab the concept of common wordless magic. Maybe smaller tasks you might achieve without a wand, but I warn you against combining the two. Now pull your wand!"
Voldemort taught him wordless magic, polishing his wand-moves, reciting theory and adding occasional praise, phrased to ensure him, this was enough, and all he could ever have. Snape diligently followed his commands. It was easy for he knew all this to boredom. At least he didn't disappoint again, not even fighting against the growing pain and queasiness until the Dark Lord looked finally pleased.
"You are my good servant, Severus, and a good servant pushes himself for the benefit of his betters. Now I gift you with my advice. You are never to try wandless magic again. The modest skills you show already elevated you to my attention, be glad about what you could achieve. You are not strong enough to rule your magic unbound and would only destroy yourself.
Magic is bound to your body. That is its container, just like for your soul. For most at least," – he added with a hint of a smile Snape could not understand. "You have not the power to unleash and rule such capacity outside of your material self. Unleash it, and lose it, becoming an obscurial if you're lucky, or a squib, if fortune does not favour you."
"Thank you, my lord." Severus bowed now with trouble standing up straight again.
He had no time for this madness of his physics. He tried to shove all signs and feelings into that separate box in his mind he earlier used. But somehow, it became harder and harder, and thoughts came to his mind unrequested. Like the ceiling hanging above his head at Spinner's End not too long ago. Was he to develop an obscurial? Were his struggles about ruling in his magic, in reality, struggles against the madness of it? What did he think? Or was the Dark Lord afraid of him practising anymore?
"I can see the question in your eyes. You may ask now."
Voldemort might have wished to seem gracious, but Severus knew better and didn't want to betray his doubts. He chose the philosophical approach.
"Where does the magic originally come from?"
"It is your birth-right. It pulses in your veins."
"Is this the reason no magic can counteract death? The lack of pulsing?"
"You are indeed in search of the greatest secrets of the Arts. Who told you there's no magic to counteract death?"
Voldemort laughed with smug satisfaction, but Severus only tried to fetch a reasonable question. Logic might have not failed him, but his judgment seemed to waver. He was in no way wishing for a discussion of immortality; he never meant that! But the Dark Lord went on:
"I am the living proof, such magic exists indeed, and the pathetic old fool of Hogwarts would never understand that! My knowledge is matchless. I counteracted death!"
The queasiness returning, Severus felt in no condition to ask about this dangerous field. Almost as wary as when the dark lord ordered him to attack not long ago, his only thoughts regarded trying to avoid throwing up and at all costs any further mentions of immortality. How could he be such a fool? Dumbledore warned him; he didn't mean to ask that! Voldemort's Legilimency took him by surprise.
Tom will never teach you what he – I believe – finds the ultimate dark magic. If you want to tempt fate and make him show you some of it, I suggest you ask him about mortality. His once a morning discussion with Dumbledore flashed before his mind's eye. He searched and enhanced the boundaries of magic. I'm sure your congenital interest would find his tutoring interesting.
"What else did he tell you?" The Dark Lord demanded. After the slip of the memory-fragment, it was impossible to deter his attention.
Severus quickly edited and relayed how the education bound the magic to the children and tried to make content the Dark Lord with the fact the Headmaster straightforward denied private tutoring. He was disappointed in his hopes.
"Impossible! What did he offer you? What are you hiding from me?" Voldemort roared in a frenzy that didn't help Severus' focus against his sudden weakness. He couldn't find anything to say. "I'll make you cooperative! Crutio!"
He fell back on the snake-legged table, and the last thing he remembered was a cracking sound from about his shoulder. The rest washed together with the all-consuming agony. There were no thoughts any more, or feelings, only endless pain.
When it finally eased, Severus's shoulder was crying with sharp pain, his head was swimming, and every spasm of his tortured muscles carried the threat of retching. The skilled Legilimens probed his mind, and he tried to convince him there was indeed nothing more to show.
We educate for safety…some…tempt the boundaries we teach them, and at some point, they get injured or die. Those are the talented.
"That's not enough!"
Leaning on the elm tree, Severus asked himself why anyone would bother to do this at all. He was alone.
"Heading back to Hogwarts, my boy?" – He managed to keep his face straight while the old wizard eyed him with a curious smile – "All right, I will not force you to wait upon me, but I believe we need to talk soon."
"Is there something more I can do for you, Headmaster?" – Snape's suspicious nature did not like this show. Albus already asking for a later meeting; what did he want now?
"Maybe," – Albus shone with one of his widest smiles – "or maybe there's something I may do for you."
"Sir? I'm not lucky enough to understand your meaning."
"Aren't you?" – Dumbledore's eyes pierced in his with unblinking intensity – "I can feel some kind of change, Severus, I cannot name it, but I'm sure you have a lot to tell." – The old wizard smiled – "Something in your demeanour, shifting… I'm only curious. Won't you humour me?"
Snape tried to burrow Malfoy's mask of elegant nonchalance. "I might on one of my better days, Sir. May I leave now?"
Severus evoked the familiar feeling of trust and let the flow of his magic run wild in his veins. He called the vial without thinking of anything but the call itself. All the vials on his bench began to shake. He focused on the one he chose, and just before he was sure it will move to his hand, all the vials broke into the dust of glass. Severus pulled his lips in a narrow line that McGonagall would have envied and cast Reparo with his wand.
Severus attempted a collecting charm for the second time sans-incantation, thin rays of water sprayed towards his face from all available water sources in the house, although his wand didn't move an inch.
Another time he sought to collect a leaf from a tall Wyche-elm, but it came down with the whole branch, and when Severus crawled out from under it, the leaf proved undividable from the log.
Severus woke with a start and rolled off his bed. The ceiling was hanging above his pillow, pipes, strings, and shingle dangling in the eddying brick powder. Judging by the amount of dust, it must have blown mere seconds before. Without a thought, he reached for his wand, which lay peacefully on the nightstand where he left it. He rushed out of the house and checked all the wards. Everything was intact. He searched the house, but no-one intruded. Finally, he braved the sight of his bedroom again. The dangling ceiling above his bed did not change a bit. "Reparo," – he said out loud, and the room soon returned to its normal state, only his breathing came shorter than usual.
Severus leaned on the doorframe. It was clear he'd had an exceptionally realistic nightmare. He still remembered most of it. In his dream, he let his magic roam free to attack. Did he really explode the ceiling above his own head?
He realized that his experimenting had taken a dangerous turn and tried to avoid the complications, but he found his magic's reactions unpredictable.
"This is a long and hard journey, Severus, and I am not sure if you have the time to walk it all the way. Maybe none of us have. I don't even know if it's possible."
"Believe it or not, I am convinced that you need no private tutoring."
Voldemort seemed finally pleased. "I am sure you appreciate my efforts in revising your dealings." – He said, putting his wand away. "Torture is surprisingly adept at revealing forgotten memories. I am glad you wasted no time on the babbling old man and came to me. We will continue next time when you prove again deserving."
Severus still writhed in the pain of his recent spell, and his head was threatening to blow up with throbbing. Voldemort's hard-earned trust and eventual departure felt like an incredible gift of fate. He tried so hard to secure parts of those memories, he felt like he used up all his last reserves of energy, and now it was hard even to breathe. He tried to conquer his condition, but his thoughts blurred and melted without a chance for him to grab on them.
Hogwarts!
-the only cry, the only wish for safety. Severus rolled off the short table and forced his eyes open, only to see something shiny between the floor's timbers. He must be hallucinating again! It was more a grumble than coherent thought:
Hogwarts.
And if he splinched his shoulder or his head off, at least the pain would cease.