Remembrance and Renewal by Nigel Tatsuya and Avatar Arkmage
Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Road to Hell

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" little Harry wailed into his grandfather's shoulder long after Severus had left. "Father! FATHER!"

Knowing neither what to do or say, Lucien just held Harry and apologized repeatedly. In his own mind, he could do little to reassure even himself. Had Severus been summoned merely because Voldemort needed his potion stores replenished, or would Severus be tortured as Lucien had often been whilst he was alive? 'Of course it would be both!' Lucien mused to himself, remembering his own cruel treatment at the hands of The Dark Lord only too well.

Voldemort seemed to be able to sense which of his followers were not yet broken, and would mistreat them the most. Although Lucien had been gravely brain damaged, a part of him always remained unbroken, and the Dark Lord would delight in trying to wear away that last trace of what Lucien Snape was before taking the mark. Even on the day he died, Lucien was not completely broken, and possessed a sufficient measure of his fatherly instincts to save Severus from something far worse than he ultimately endured.

The image of Severus's tearful face emerging from the behind the Death Eater mask a short while before burned itself into Lucien's mind. For a moment, the adult Severus looked not too unlike the child Lucien had nurtured so many years in the past. A brave child. Although Severus had known what was to come, the boy... no the man, faced it with the same quiet dignity he had possessed all his life.

"Grandfather," Harry scrubbed at his eyes when the worst of his sobbing passed. "Voldie-uh-Mouldyshorts is going to kill him!"

"I do not believe he will," Lucien said, more to comfort Harry and himself, than because he truly believed it. Voldemort had been the cause of Lucien's death, after all. Would Severus suffer the same fate?

"HE WILL BE KILLED!" shrieked Harry. "VOLDEMORT is going to be SO ANGRY at father! He couldn't go when the Dark Bas-Lord last summoned him because I wouldn't let him, I didn't want my last parent to die so when we were both in the infirmary, and father was trying to sneak off to The Death Eater meeting, I grabbed him and held on. At the time, I was only 'arrogant Harry Potter' to him, and he struggled to get away from me, and when he did break free, I fell against the railing of one of the beds. When father thought I had broken my neck, he held me in a supported position and no longer tried to go to the Death Eaters that night!"

Lucien's ghostly eyes widened. He had seen what happened to Death Eaters who failed to come promtly to meetings when summoned.

"And then I made things worse for father by stealing polyjuice from his labs and kicking Volde-Mouldyshorts's ars-behind!" Harry buried his face once more in Lucien's ghostly hair. "I know I shouldn't have done that, but I wasn't thinking. I was too mad at Voldemort to think! When I saw what the Interventio Interferous potion did to father, I got so mad ... I wanted to kill the Dark Bast-Dark Lord right then. But I've only made things worse for father!!"

Harry watched Lucien's facial expressions seemingly fight for dominance, ranging the entire gamut from being aghast at Harry's use of the name 'Voldemort,' to shock at Harry's near usage of expletives, to amusement at the thought of his own grandson attacking the Dark Lord and doing some serious damage, to total horror.

"Have faith in your father, Harry." Lucien said, once again not sounding entirely sure. "He has survived The Dark Lord's wrath this long, he will surely survive this time. The Dark Lord needs his potions master after all..."

"So even if Voldemort doesn't kill him...he'll still hurt father, won't he?" Harry fretted, taking handfuls of Lucien's white hair and tugging hard on them. "What if he hurts father so badly that father becomes brain damaged like you were when you were still alive?"

Lucien shuddered.

Harry pulled back slightly, a brave expression gracing his features. "But...I just want him alive...no matter what. I'm not going to love him any less if he's brain damaged. If father wants to start beating me, I'll try to understand. I'll love him no matter what he does, and if beating me makes him happy, he can do it... I deserve it! I got him into more trouble than he was already in, so yes, I probably deserve it." Even though there were tears in those bright green eyes, the look of determination was unmistakable and unwavering.

"You don't deserve that! Nothing could justify hurting a child the way I hurt Severus!" Lucien clutched Harry's shoulders firmly, but not enough to cause Harry pain. "And no parent beats their child because it makes them happy to do so...at least I do not believe that to be so... What you saw me do to Sevvie, I did because I had trouble controlling my own actions. I was mad, very brain damaged. Never, and I am sure of this, would your father derive any pleasure from hurting you!"

"Then..." Harry began sniffling, "...then make me a teenager again. Brew me a re-aging potion! Please grandfather, I can't help father this way. I can't fight Moldyshorts like this! I'm too little, and if father comes home brain damaged and beats me, at least I'll be able to withstand a beating more as a teen."

"Harry..." words failed.

"Besides," Harry said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, "I cry even more than father does now. Mouldyshorts will use that to his advantage! I want to be a teen...no wait, age me even older than that! Make me an adult so I can fight Mouldyshorts as an equal!"

"Harry...I..."

"Please, Grandfather! Brew me a re-aging potion so that I can...Aaaaaaagh!" Harry screamed dangerously close to his grandsire's ears.

Fortunately, because Lucien's ears were no longer organic, Harry's strident cry caused him no pain. "Harry?! What...what's going on? Are you in pain?"

"That bloody Voldemort!" Harry wailed, obviously sensing something horrendous. "He cursed father. He cast the cruciatus on father!"

"No!" Lucien exclaimed inwardly, for he remembered every nanosecond that Voldemort had employed the curse on him whilst he was still living. "Condemn you, Dark Lord! Condemn you!"


Severus pitched backwards onto the stone floor as the cruciatus curse ripped through his body like the materialized shards of Voldemort's wrath. The Dark Lord had cursed him soon after he joined the circle of Death Eaters through the ebony doors of the elegant Montcastle Mansion. Judging from the sheer intensity of the curse, Voldemort was incensed.

Severus bore the assault in silence, but could not help but note the Dark Lord's enfeebled appearance. It was subtle, but still evident. Apparently, Harry had put him in quite a bad state, and Severus's purposely botched potions healed him only partially, for he lacked the endurance to cast a Cruciatus curse with a particularly long duration. To Severus's relief, the worst of the curse lasted only around twenty seconds and gradually resolved. Before the curse ended fully however, Voldemort pointed his wand at the area over Severus's kidneys and sent a far smaller, though localized Cruciatus curse there. Because Severus often spent a considerable amount of time standing over a caldron, his lower back was already prone to aches, making the explosive pain of the curse all the more difficult to bear. Severus screamed.

The other robed figures in the room looked on with sadistic pleasure. Severus writhed uncontrollably for what seemed to be a quarter of an hour before the remnants of the curses faded.

"Get up, Black Sssnake." The Dark Lord hissed, his wand still held at the ready.

Severus knew not to stand fully; he did not dare to do so in the Dark Lord's presence, instead he shakily rolled onto his knees and settled into a subservient, bowing posture. He lowered his head until his nose was nearly touching the floor. "Yes, Master."

"Remove your robesss!" Voldemort kicked Severus in the shoulder for emphasis.

Accustomed to humiliation, as well as pain from the Dark Lord, Severus unfastened his father's black cloak and slid it off his shoulders, revealing the white frock coat, white shirt and trousers beneath.

Unnoticed by all the other robed figures in the room, Voldemort's breath caught in his throat. Severus had always worn black before. Save for the potion master's shirt and occasionally his undergarments, Voldemort had never seen Severus wearing any colours other than dark grey or black. The only person who customarily dressed head to foot in white, was Severus's father. Why was Severus dressed so much like Lucien Snape now?

"Everything!" Voldemort ordered, noticing that Severus was taking too much time laying his outer robes aside.

Soft sniggering, some of which could have easily come from former students of the Slytherin House, filled the room. Severus did not dare anger the Dark Lord any more, and disrobed with all the quiet dignity the situation allowed..

Peter Pettigrew, better known to the others in the room as 'Wormtail,' led the chorus of giggling at Severus and made derisive comments about his former rival's nearly emaciated body and other perceived inadequacies. As Severus removed each item of clothing, Peter gleefully kicked it away from him; he loved the idea of Snivellus crawling across the room like an animal to retrieve his clothes once he was granted permission to get dressed again.

"Fluffing yourself, aren't you, Snivellus?" Peter mocked, his gaze moving lower as Severus removed his undergarments.

"If I were indeed 'fluffing,' which I can assure you I am not doing intentionally," Severus sneered, his voice barely audible as his own night-sky black eyes joined Peter's below his own navel. "At least the body part in question is meant to be 'fluffed.' Unlike you, Pettigrew, as you are more accustomed to fluffing the sparse contents of your skull, your non-existent muscles, your ego..."

Voldemort silenced Severus with a firm slap to his cheek, then followed it immediately with an even harder slap to the opposite one. "You were not given permissssion to sspeak, Darkling."

Some of the laugher in the room dissipated, and was replaced by horrified murmuring. Severus's body appeared wretched and pitiful. Even Peter's amusement seemed to wane at the very sight. The weeks of injury and the haemorrhagic fever had taken their toll on the potion master, whose hands seemed to tremble under the instinct to preserve what little sense of modesty he had left. Wisely, Severus held his hands up high in surrender, as he continued to kneel on the floor in obsequiousness.

Voldemort circled Severus slowly, appraising every scar, marking and feature on his potion master's gangly body. "Even though you were forced to heal without the use of magic, you've sssspent sssome time in the sssun, I gather." Voldemort motioned to the tan lines, causing Wormtail and the other Death Eaters to snicker softly once more.

"Yes master." Snape replied flatly. It had been a blessing in disguise that Severus had been stricken with haemorrhagic fever only days before. The aggressive disease had caused him to lose even more weight from his already thin frame, and had rendered his newly tanned skin the colour of soured milk. Severus knew he looked about as wretched as a wounded person forced to bear the Interventio Interferous potion in his body would be expected to be.

Voldemort grabbed Severus's left wrist and jerked his arm sharply, watching in satisfaction as Severus winced. "Your arm was reattached using muggle techniquesss wassn't it, Darkling?" Voldemort examined the faint scarring at Severus's elbow, which looked vaguely like a seam. "Ssssewed on like the arm of a doll. How...crude."

Severus exaggerated his reaction to the rough handling,and even moaned in pain when Voldemort twisted his arm. Severus knew Voldemort was doing this in part, to be sure that he was indeed Severus Snape, and not a polyjuiced imposter with Severus's arm this time; but also for the purpose of causing him pain and mortification.

Voldemort waved his wand over Severus to check for evidence of polyjuice use, but found none. His serpentine eyes narrowed as he traced his wand over a few healed incisions in Severus's lower abdominal and inguinal regions. "Ssso, you've experienced some of the muggle'sss cruder healing techniquesss."

Severus nodded, remembering how excruciatingly painful it had been when Poppy Pomfrey slowly repaired the damage caused by Crabbe and Goyle Sr. The agony from the treatment had been so intense that he lost consciousness a few times.

His dark eyes moved longingly to his undergarments discarded on the floor. Wormtail noticed, and stomped on the white items. Voldemort nodded to Wormtail then regarded his potion master maliciously. "Oh no, you'll not be allowed to get dressssed just yet, Black Ssssnake. I have not yet finished with you."

Though Severus steeled his features, he could feel himself trembling inwardly. Strangely, these were not the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. Severus surmised that the apprehension originating from deep within him was not his own, but that of a young child.

Harry!

Harry had been observing the proceedings of the night. Severus could feel the boy's presence even more strongly, now that he was mindful of it. Alas, there were some matters he did not wish to share with his son.

"This is is not for you, Harry," Severus spoke in his mind. Although his skill as an occlumens allowed him to guard against intrusions from anyone who tried to spy on his thoughts and experiences, he was not sure how, or if it were even possible to defend against all spying through the powerful spiritual bond he shared with Harry. He tried nonetheless, and channelled all the strength he possessed to close his mind.

"Now, Darkling." Voldemort clutched Severus's chin and forcefully raised his head, forcing Severus to gaze upon the still-healing fractures on Voldemort's reptilian cheekbones. "Look at my face. You'll note that I've sssussstained injuriesss since your last summoning..."

Not sure whether or not he had been granted permission to speak, Snape just feigned more confusion and concern than he actually felt.

"My assssailant," Voldemort went on, "not only bore your appearance, but your blood as well."

Sensing that Voldemort would have his answers at any cost, Severus braced himself and only stared with the most perplexed expression he could conjure.

"Now," Voldemort moved the tip of his wand so that it was just millimetres away from Severus's left cornea. "We will discusssss your progeny, Darkling..."


"He forced me away!" Harry sobbed. For the past few minutes he had been concentrating on his father, observing events at the Death Eater meeting, and reporting all that he saw to his grandfather. Now he could detect not even his father's presence.

"Had Severus been watching me at a Death Eater meeting, I would have done the same." Lucien stated, levitating Harry into his arms and carrying him to the kitchen. "Come, I will make some drinkable chocolate."

"Chocolate?!" Harry asked in astonishment. "How can you think about chocolate at a time like this?"

"It would not do for you to cause yourself illness with worry." Lucien replied. "And you need to keep your strength up if you wish to fight the Dark Lord."

Lucien withdrew a special cauldron from the cupboard and ignited a fire beneath it. Harry noted that the caldron looked as though it had a layer of copper beneath it, and when heated, the copper layer separated off the bottom of the caldron, forming a cushion of steam between it and the levitating caldron above. Lucien then vanished briefly and reappeared, bearing a burlap bag labelled 'roasted cacao beans' and a bottle of cream.


Harry resumed his attempt at reestablishing a connection with his father, but found time and again that he could not. In the end, Harry just sat silently and watched his grandfather add raw cane sugar, extracts and other ingredients he could not readily identify to the ground cacao bean mixture bubbling gently in the caldron. When Lucien was satisfied with the results, he decanted the rich chocolate liquid into two mugs, stirred in some of the heavy cream and topped it with even more of the cream and some finely ground cacao beans.

He gave one mug to Harry, summoned Rastus and gave him the other mug, then joined them at the table after taking an empty mug for himself.

"Drink all of it." Lucien instructed, putting the empty mug to his ghostly lips. "It would seem that you both need it."

Because it sounded like a direct order, Rastus did as he was told. Harry sniffed the beverage skeptically, before concluding that it looked and smelled very much like muggle hot cocoa...only stronger. The flavour could best be described as miraculous. The freshly ground, roasted cacao made the taste much bolder than ordinary cocoa, yet the sugar and heavy cream rendered it extremely pleasant tasting.

"It's good!" Harry exclaimed, swallowing more of the delicious beverage as quickly as he could without scalding his tongue.

"I am glad you like it. It used to be your father's favourite drink as well when he was a young child. You may not have seen this when you were outside of your body," Lucien said, curiously watching Harry's eyes, "but I've often made this drink for your father and grandmother. I was quite fond of it myself, and seeing them both enjoying something so much was a pleasure." He exhaled heavily.

Harry began sniffling and put his cup down. "Maybe I'd better not drink all of this. Father will need it more when he comes back..." Harry started whimpering in earnest, "If he comes back at all, he'll need this drink more than I do."

Lucien put the mug back into Harry's hand. "He will come home! I swear it!" Lucien would make sure of it...as soon as he could find a way to both escape from Snape Manor and from Harry. As much as he loved his grandson, he wanted to keep Harry out of the line of fire for as long as he could. "Go on, drink your fill. I've always purchased large quantities of roasted cacao beans and heavy cream along with my potions supplies each month whilst I lived and stored them away in the vault. You can have as much of this drink as you like. I will prepare a fresh batch for your father when he arrives home."

Harry wiped at his eyes and finished his cup. "Grandfather, will you please brew me a re-aging potion?"

"Have more chocolate first." Lucien said, ignoring Harry's question and trying to distract Harry at the same time. He ladled more of the rich chocolate from the caldron.

"Yes, I love this...uhhhh...oh, I feel so sleepy all of a sudden. Grandfather, can I please have some re-aging potion...oh...uh... I'm so tired! I can't..." Harry's green eyes crossed, rolled back and finally closed as he slumped against the kitchen table.

"Master Lucien!" Rastus gasped, his amber coloured eyes crossing similarly as he looked into his own empty mug. "What has happened to Young Snape?"

"Nothing more than the effects of a dose of the dream-inhibiting sleep potion." Lucien replied, lifting both Harry and Rastus into his arms and carrying them to the bedrooms. "Both of you have had a harrowing day and require sleep unencumbered by dreams."

"Master Lucien, if Rastus is sleeping, how will he tend Young Snape?" Rastus fretted.

"Fear not," Lucien whispered. "This potion only works fully on pure humans. Your elfin blood renders this potion only as effective as a mild sleeping draft with a dream suppressant. Should Harry require your assistance in my absence, you'll be able to wake without undue difficulty."

The octarelf began whimpering. "In your absence? Master Lucien! Master Severus has instructed Rastus to not allow Master Lucien's ghost to leave Snape Manor One!"

"That is why I've had to sedate you." Lucien spelled the duvet off one of the large beds and replaced it with light blankets, better suited for the warm Summer weather. "You'll not be able to stop me from leaving. Rest assured though, that I am only doing this to help Severus. I have no intention of hurting him again."

Once he put Harry and Rastus to bed, he whispered softly to their sleeping forms. "Forgive me, both of you. But the chocolate beverage is also one of the best methods for disguising the flavour of potions. I've fed Severus and Mervidith many a healing potion in just that manner." Lucien tucked the covers around Harry's small body. "You would not have slept had I not done this. And even so, you would have been plagued by unpleasant visions, courtesy of the Dark Lord."

Lucien retrieved Harry's wand from the night stand, where Harry had left it on the previous night after putting his memory of Draco into Lucien's pensieve. "Harry, I've promised that your father would return." Lucien floated over to a large open window at the opposite end of the room. He raised Harry's wand and drew a giant circle in the air, hoping he would be able to cast a spell using the wand, since his own magic was not effective against the powerful wards Severus had cast upon Snape Manor nearly seventeen years ago.

Because Lucien was not entirely compatible with Harry's wand, incantation after incantation failed. The first spell only caused the invisible barriers to tremble, while the second rebounded explosively into the room and crashed loudly through the floor. The next few attempts caused the wards to creak and groan loudly like a structure under the onslaught of a powerful storm.

"How fortunate that you are both in a potion induced sleep." Lucien commented to Harry and Rastus. "It is sufficiently noisy in here to rouse even the dead."

Severus had been in a bad emotional state when he first cast the wards, and they were especially resistant to Lucien's efforts to break them. Still, Lucien immediately attempted to break down the wards without the aid of a wand. Eventually, after more than seven years, Lucien resolved himself to being imprisoned in his own manor for all time.

Lucien wanted to get out now, and hoped beyond hope that magic, however unfocussed and unpredictable, cast through Harry's wand would be successful. After several more spells which shot from Harry's wand like a bizarre fireworks display, Lucien took a deep breath and shouted: "Concordia discors!" This time, the wand fired like a great undulation cannon. The wards began to flicker, and large, fiery fissures began to appear randomly. While Lucien had not been able to remove the wards completely, he had successfully caused a profound disruption in their integrity. When a small fault began to appear just out of the open window, Lucien replaced Harry's wand on the nightstand and quickly sprang through the tiny fault.

For the first time since his death, Lucien felt what could best be described as extreme discomfort. Although he had been able to pass through the fault, part of his right elbow, right hip and most of his right leg had come in contact with a jagged projection of the disrupted wards as he descended two stories to the ground.

Unhurt from the fall itself, but somewhat shaky due to the passage through the powerful wards, Lucien looked down at himself and realized that part of his elbow, hip and leg were gone. They were not just invisible, but gone. Although Lucien felt no pain, and did not suffer the ill effects a typical individual missing parts of his body would, he could not make them reappear. The projection from the wards had damaged his magical core.

Lucien tried to walk toward the tree leading out of the grounds of Snape Manor, but found he could not; for he no longer had his right foot or indeed most of his right leg with which to walk. "I guess I'll have to travel like a true ghost then, good job the wards didn't go through my head!" Lucien said to no one in particular, as he turned himself completely invisible, flew to the tree and floated out of the grounds of Snape Manor for the first time since he had become a ghost.

"Sevvie, what a dutiful son you are to wear my old Death Eater mask despite the horrific memories you must associate with it. Or...did you know about the tracking spell I've placed on it?" Lucien raised his arm in the air. "Even if there are anti-apparation wards on your location, and I am certain there are, I will still be able to find you, my son. Anti-apparation wards work on the living, not the dead!" Lucien closed his eyes and concentrated his magic on the mask on his son's face. "Dirige nos!"


Draco threw what must have been the hundred and forty-seventh heavy tome aside and stomped back to the tall shelves. After grabbing another, larger stack of books from the high shelf, he hobbled back to the black leather sofa he had spent the greater part of the day at. Since the early afternoon, Draco had been in the grand libraries of Malfoy Mansion, hoping to learn more about portkeys as well as how to create them. Even as midnight approached, Draco was still no closer to his goal of learning the methods of making a portkey. He did however know a considerable amount about their history and why they would be useful, but as far as Draco was concerned, that information was as useful to him as a vegetable garden would be to a carnivore.

"Taric!" Draco called irritably after a while more.

"Yes sir, young Malfoy sir?" An elf with big green eyes said as he scuttled into the room.

"Taric, I need your help, " Draco stated, reclining on the louge and wresting his forearm across his brows.

"Anything sir, what does young Malfoy want Taric to do?" The elf asked, bowing before the pale boy.

Draco sat up and handed the tiny elf three large texts. "I want you to help me read through these books and find whatever you can on the creation of portkeys."

The house elf began shivering. He gingerly placed the stack of books on a nearby table and backed away.

"Are you refusing to do as I say?" Draco scowled.

"Oh no sir, Young Malfoy. Taris will never refuse willingly, sir!" Taric whimpered. "But Taric may not to do illegal deeds."

Besee, who had been watering one of the potted plants in the library, bowed dutifully to Draco and turned to leave the library. Draco beckoned her. "Besee, come here."

"Yes, Young Malfoy, sir?"

Draco handed Besee three tomes. "I want you both to help me read through these books..."

Before Draco had finished, Besee began whimpering, her big, cerulean blue eyes wide with horror. "Young Malfoy, house elves is not supposed to be reading books."

"We is not supposed to be learning about magic too." Taric added.

"House elves is not supposed to disobey my commands!" Draco drawled in a house-elf like accent. "While there are laws against teaching house elves to read or study magic, this is our home. And we can do as we please in our own home! No one has to know what we do here right? It is none of their business!"

Taric and Besee were both too afraid to disagree with Draco.

"Besides, we Malfoys don't teach our elves to read for nothing." Draco said, remembering how he, having no one to play with as a small child, often played with the house elves. He even made them sit in desks and pretend to be students while he 'taught' them to read. "Tell me the truth, you two. I thought I was teaching you and the other elves to read when we played 'school' when I was a little boy. But you're both older than my great grandmother Dracaenas! I'm sure I must not have been the first Malfoy heir to teach you to read, am I right?"

Taric and Besee exchanged nervous glances.

"That's what I thought." Draco smirked. "You were just pretending to learn when you've known how to read all along!"

Besee nodded, raised her spindly fingers and produced a walking stick with a viper on it's handle and handed it to Draco. Both Besee and Taric turned away from Draco, leaned over and raised the hems of their pillow cases, exposing their backs.

"What?!" Draco threw the stick into a nearby shelf in disgust. "I don't want to beat you! What would I do that for anyway? Because you played along with me when I was a kid? Because you can read when house elves are forbidden to? Because you won't follow my commands because you'd rather not break the law? What do you think I am? A spoilt prat from 1848?"

"No sir, Besee would not ever think or say anything against Besee's family. Besee does not think Young Malfoy is a spoilt prat."

"Then I am giving you both a command." Draco flung the stacks of books back into their arms. "You're going to help me look for information on creating portkeys!"

Taric opened his mouth to protest, but Draco scowled him into silence.

Both elves bowed and sat on the floor next to the sofa Draco was seated upon. Dutifully, they opened the tomes and began reading.

Draco leaned back on the sofa and tried to concentrate on the tome in his lap, but found he could not, for he had already been reading for too many hours. He put the tome down and stood from the sofa.

"Does Young Malfoy want anything?" Besee and Taric asked at the same time.

"Yes, I want you two to keep reading until you find something." Draco said, walking out of the library.

A house elf clad in a tea cozy came running out of the kitchens. "Is Young Malfoy wanting something to eat?"

"Sure, Dolfi." Draco replied, letting the aged elf lead him into the dining room.

The kitchen elves had apparently anticipated Draco's response, for the table was bedecked in a way that would rival the tables at any of the feasts at Hogwarts. There were roasted pheasants, hams, bread stuffings, dinner rolls, boiled lobsters, mashed potatoes, sirloin steaks, fresh tossed greens, and any dessert Draco had ever mentioned liking.

"Wha-?" Draco said, sitting at his setting at the table. "How am I supposed to eat all of this?!"

"Young Draco has not eaten all day." Dolfi replied. "Dolfi thinks Draco will be very hungry."

"Of course I'd be hungry enough to eat all of this," Draco sneered, "if I were Takeru Kobayashi!"

"What is a Takeru Kobayashi?" Dolfi asked, serving Draco some bisque.

"You mean who is Takeru Kobayashi. He's a competitive eater." Draco replied, remembering a hot dog eating contest he had watched on an international network. "I saw him on a muggle telly. He can eat fifty frankfurters in less than 15 minutes."

Dolfi was momentarily overcome with envy over the house elves who served this Takeru. Surely a boy who could eat that much could only have been a magical person.

Seeing all the food before him, Draco heart grew heavy. If neither Lucius, nor Narcissa, nor Draco specified what they wanted for their meal, the elves would prepare virtually anything they knew the Malfoys enjoyed eating. Narcissa was especially fond of lobster served with clarified butter, and Lucius enjoyed a variety of flavourful bread stuffings with his meals. Draco could hardly stand to look at the food now that his parents were gone.

"Besee! Taric! Moira! Gyl!" Draco called until he had summoned all the house elves currently serving in Malfoy Mansion into the dining room.

They lined themselves before him in disciplined ranks and bowed in unison.

"Every one of you," Draco addressed them, "join me at the table."

The elves started to protest as to why it was not proper for them to do that, but Draco shouted them into submission with a firm: "NOW!"

"I will explain what a competitive eating contest is to all of you," Draco simpered at each elf in turn. "And then, we are going to compete...!"


Severus did not remember all the events of the night, and wasn't sure whether that should have unnerved or pleased him. He came to full awareness whilst standing over several caldrons in a huge laboratory. Strike that, he was not standing, but being supported by two cloaked Death Eaters. He was not sure he was strong enough to stand on his own accord. His body ached everywhere. Severus blinked his heavy lidded eyes, and realized that his face was covered in drying blood.

The events slowly returned to him as he took in more of this surroundings and the throbbing in his body. Earlier, Voldemort had probed him for information about the son Severus allegedly had. Each time Severus denied any knowledge of an offspring, Voldemort employed the localized version of the Cruciatus curse. Because Voldemort himself was not fully healed, he soon became too fatigued to continue casting the curses, but not too fatigued to stop the interrogation. Severus had been allowed no respite, for Voldemort quickly turned to the other Death Eaters in the room and delegated the task of torturing to them. "Employ the localized Cruciatussss cursssse where you feel it would be the mosssst... effective." The Dark Lord had instructed.

A sharp slap brought Severus back to the present. "You are to replenisssh the ssstores of potionsss here," Voldemort commanded, handing Severus a thick roll of parchment. "You are to be allowed no food or ressst until you have completed all the potionsss I require."

The two Death Eaters, who had been holding Severus upright, released him. Greatly weakened, and in great pain, Severus collapsed upon the stone floor.

"Get up, Darkling!" The Dark Lord hissed. "Did I not tell you that you would be allowed no rest until your work was concluded?"

"Yes, Master." Severus hastily scrambled to his trembling feet, colliding several times with the other robed figures, the counters, and the shelves as he did so. He noted groggily that the buttons on his shirt and frock coat were done up wrong, his socks were cuffed, his shoes were not properly on his feet, and that his trousers were only pulled up to his hips; Severus concluded that he either had not dressed himself, or else he wasn't in the right mind to have done so properly.

"Bivensss here will ssserve as both your guard and your assisssstant should you require either." Voldemort said before leaving the room.

The bedraggled potions master immediately began his work at the caldrons. He gasped in agony as he hobbled to the supply cabinets and gathered the items he would require. Sharp pains shot through Severus's legs with each step he took, for one of the masked Death Eaters had used the Cruciatus on the soles of his feet. The Dark Lord had instructed the Death Eaters not to do anything to Severus that would render him incapable of completing his tasks as potions master... perhaps the one who did this failed to see how inhibiting Severus's ability to walk would do just that?!

Bivens squawked at Severus when he lay across the desk to prepare the ingredients, but Severus turned on him. "Then perhaps you'd like to explain to The Dark Lord why you are preventing my from completing my duties?" Severus pulled off his shoes and socks, revealing his bruised and grossly inflamed feet. "As you can plainly see, Bivens. I am incapable of standing for prolonged durations. Unless of course, you are volunteering to hold me upright for the next few hours or so."

Bivens averted his eyes, and said nothing more. Severus picked up one of the sharpened blades and began chopping, cringing as waves of pain raced through his arm with each slice. Peter Pettigrew, who had always been jealous of Professor Severus Snape's dexterity, intelligence and usefulness to The Dark Lord's cause, had sent a localized Cruciatus directly into Severus's wrist. Although Voldemort had in turn cursed Pettigrew for potentially compromising Severus's ability to fulfil his duties as a potion master, it offered little comfort to Severus now. The damage was done. His wrist would hurt with each fall of the pestle, and each stroke of his knife for the next few days.

Unseen by either Bivens or Severus, Lucien descended through the ceiling into the spacious labs of Montcastle Mansion. It had taken him longer than he anticipated to follow the faint signature from his Death Eater mask. Because his passage through the wards of Snape Manor left him magically wounded, he could not properly apparate, so he was relegated to flying after the Mask's signature many kilometres North of Snape Manor. Thankfully, Lucien found that spirits, even with missing limbs, could fly great distances rapidly. By the time he arrived at Montcastle Mansion nearly two hours later, he estimated that he had flown all the way to somewhere in the South of Scotland.

It had been a profound disappointment to only find the mask, which lay upon the outer robes Lucien had given Severus to wear, in the parlour in the first level of the Mansion. Lucien searched each room, but saw no sign of Severus among the Death Eaters. Even when he explored the level below the ground floor of the Mansion, he found no one in the many cavernous rooms, which Lucien concluded were built for the purpose of aging wines and cheeses as well as for shelter during those dangerous times when the Muggles were at war.

The laboratories of Montcastle Mansion were built two floors below the ground level of the structure. Lucien could only watch Severus as he laboured over the many cauldrons in the windowless room. Every motion seemed to cause him great pain as he hobbled from one activity to the next.

"Sevvie..." Lucien said, weeping in silence, watching invisibly from behind one of the shelves in the large room, "oh Sevvie I'm so sorry." It had been very difficult for Lucien to work after being brutally assaulted by Voldemort and/or the Death Eaters. It was infinitely harder to watch Severus having to endure that same fate. Although Lucien hadn't been tortured on every occasion he was summoned, he had still been hurt quite often. How often was Severus the target of Voldemort's physical and mental attacks?

When Bivens eventually grew bored and dozed off, Lucien quietly prepared some of the ingredients Severus would need, while being very careful not to let his presence be known. He would have liked to have helped more, but decided that helping Severus complete his work as quickly as possible was all that could be done.

Severus was perplexed to find the graphorn horn, the runespoor eggs and ashwinder eggshells already prepared on the counter. He had not prepared them. Could Bivens have helped him, even though the man seemed to not know the difference between gillyweed and an algal bloom?

When Lucien had pulverized the last of the kukui nut, and saw that Severus would not be needing more ingredients prepared for at least an hour or so, he decided to help Severus fulfill his duties as a spy. He ascended to the ground floor and crept into the drawing room where Voldemort and a few of the Death Eaters were meeting.

Still invisible, Lucien floated near the ceiling of the room and grudgingly put to memory all that was discussed in the meeting, including accounts of the raids some of the Death Eaters had conducted that evening, plans for forthcoming attacks, and the acquisition of monies to fund their operations.

All the while, Lucien had to refrain from picking up a lamp and smashing it over either Voldemort and/or his minions' heads. He also pushed back thoughts of following Harry and Severus back to Hogwarts and putting a powerful cathartic into Headmaster Dumbledore's goblet. He hated that Severus was to be a slave to Voldemort until either he or Voldemort died. Lucien also hated that Severus was a spy for that old Gryffindor-loving fool Professor Dumbledore.

As far as Lucien was concerned, Albus Dumbledore cared only for the spoilt individuals from the Gryffindor house. It was doubtful that he cared at all for Severus Snape the man, as much as he did for Severus Snape the spy. Severus hadn't been a Gryffindor, after all.

James Potter and his cronies bullied Severus mercilessly from their first days at Hogwarts. Severus had sent an owl to Mervidith shortly after the year began, telling of his mistreatment at the hands of James and his friend Sirius. Lucien remembered grabbing the parchment from Mervidith's hands and reading the letter. He noticed that the parchment had random splotches of dried blood and that the ink was smudged in many places, indicating that Severus had not only been bleeding, but had also been crying when he wrote the owl.

Lucien crumpled the letter and owled Severus back. He had told Severus to fight back and to teach James Potter to leave him alone, or Severus would get worse when he returned home the following summer.

Lucien lowered his head in shame when he recalled how he had beat Severus for not fighting back more strongly against James Potter and his tagalong friends. After Severus's fifth year, he had even beaten the poor boy so badly that he had lost consciousness.

In retrospect, Lucien regretted not having the sense to put Professor Dumbledore in his place for letting the Gryffindor boys off so lightly for all the things they did to his son . Professor Dumbledore knew exactly what had been transpiring, for he himself had often owled Lucien and Mervidith when Severus had been injured or had committed an infraction against the rules.

Had James ended up in Slytherin, and Severus in Gryffindor, James would have been expelled for his antics long before he even returned for his second year at Hogwarts.

And Lucien could not forget Severus's nightmares following the werewolf incident...

Lucien forced himself to focus on the proceedings of the Death Eater meeting once more. There would be time enough for revenge later. If Severus insisted on spying for the old windbag, he would honour his son's wishes, however much he himself disapproved of them. Helping the old windbag was far more tolerable a deed than to willingly accept enslavement to Voldemort, after all.

"What about Lucius Malfoy." Goyle asked.

"I am aware of the ssssituation." Voldemort hissed and waved his wand threateningly at behemoth man. "As vital as he is to our operations here, we'll not be able to orchestrate his escape from Azkaban for at least a few weekss or sssso."

It made sense to Lucien. As high a profile criminal as Lucius Malfoy, or anyone from the Malfoy clan would be, The Daily Prophet and any other wizarding news agencies would have scouts prowling all routes to and from Azkaban Prison, hoping to be the first to report on any attempts to break him out, or on him escaping on his own. They would also be watching for the appearance of any members of the Malfoy clan, who would surely attempt to visit and/or try to aid Lucius Malfoy's escape. Surely any Death Eater activity to set him free would be front page newsworthy.

Lucien returned to the labs to assist Severus after most of the other Death Eaters left Montcastle Mansion either for their homes, or for further raids. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning when Voldemort, Wormtail and a few other masked figures entered the labs, startling Bivens to full consciousness.

"How much have you done?" The Dark Lord hissed.

Severus bowed dutifully and showed Voldemort the parchment, which had roughly half of its items crossed off.

"Very well done, Black Sssnake." The Dark Lord nodded approvingly. "Have you finissshed my healing potions? I would like a dossse now."

"Yes, Master." Severus hobbled to a nearby shelf and handed Voldemort one of the vials of purposely botched healing draft. The Dark Lord swallowed it down quickly.

"You have done well, Darkling." Voldemort paused, a look of tranquillity graced his reptilian face as the healing potion began to work in earnest. "You are one of the only, if not the only, potion master who has the level of proficiency to brew a healing draft which works with my unique physiology."

Severus bowed once more.

Without warning, Voldemort cast a Legilimens spell on Severus's still bowed head. Because Severus was gravely weakened from both the torture from his bout with haemorrhagic fever, he was ill prepared to defend himself.


A fifteen year old Severus was nervously unpacking his school trunk in his childhood room in Snape Manor one. He was still clad in his Hogwarts uniform.

"Damn you for a fool, boy!" Lucien thundered, as he entered Severus's room.

"Wait, father!" Severus said, slowly backing away. "Please allow me to explai-"

Lucien punched his son squarely in the jaw, sending the teen sprawling onto the floor. "I am not interested in your excuses!"

"But...!" Severus held his face, blood trickling from between his slender fingers.

"You knew the consequences of your actions. You will learn to retaliate even if I must beat it into you!" Lucien undid his belt and pulled it from the loops of his white trousers.

"Oh please don't, father!" Severus begged, "Ow!" Lucien grabbed a handful of Severus's long black hair and forced him to lay with his torso on his desk.

"Lucien SNAPE!" yelled Mervidith, who hobbled into the room holding a large, bloody compress on her head. Severus concluded immediately that she must have tried to stop Lucien earlier and he had beaten her as well. "Don't beat him! He's already suffered enough! We haven't had our Sevvie home with us for ten months! We should celebrate that he's home! How can you do this to him?"

"Get out!" Lucien struck Severus between the shoulder blades to stay him, then threw Mervidith against the wall.

"I won't let YOU hurt him!" Mervidith screeched as she punched and kicked at Lucien.

"I'll not let you coddle him!" Lucien shouted back, forcing Mervidith back into the hallway with a barrage of fists.

"Mother!" Severus whimpered, running between his parents, taking a few blows to his own body, and trying to carry Mervidith to safety before Lucien killed her.

"I distinctly remember instructing you to stay there!" Lucien grabbed Severus's green and silver-striped tie and collar and threw him against the desk.

"Sevvie!" Mervidith screeched, running past Lucien and enfolding Severus in her arms.

"No wonder our son is incapable of fighting back properly!" Lucien hauled Mervidith to her feet and threw her out of Severus's room once more. "You're always coddling him."

"You want me to fight?" Severus ran in front of Mervidith to shield her from a particularly hard blow. While still dazed, Severus wound up and smashed his fist into the side of Lucien's head.

"That's it!" Lucien replied, an odd look of pride gracing his pale features. "Go on, try it once more."

Severus took another swing at Lucien, but this time Lucien was prepared for it and blocked it with very little effort. He ducked a third blow, tackled Severus around the waist and slammed him into the ballustrade. Knowing that Lucien was too strong, and had both a height and weight advantage over him, Severus tried to run away.

"You'll have to put more effort into a proper fight!" Lucien held Severus down and beat him relentlessly. "Come on, boy! Defend yourself! Show me what you'll do to James Potter the next time he tries to show your private parts to all your peers at Hogwarts."

"Stop it! You're going to kill him!" Mervidith screamed. She picked up a chair and broke it over Lucien's back.

The violence continued until both Mervidith and Severus lay unconscious on the floor. When Severus came to, Lucien threw him back onto the surface of his desk and beat him pitilessly across the back and backside with his leather belt.

Unable to escape, and in too much pain to endure much more abuse, Severus did the same thing he had done on the many other occasions his father had punished him this way. He cried.


Severus managed to replace the painful memory with one of him brewing a drawing salve, but not before Voldemort had seen a significant portion of it. Whenever Voldemort had managed to break into Severus's mind, he invariably was treated to endless memories of brewing potions or pages and pages of potion texts.

This was different. Voldemort would be sure to use this against Severus.

"You still insisssst that you have no knowledge of a son?" Voldemort hissed when he finally ended the legilimens spell.

"Yes, Master. To my knowledge, I have fathered no children." Severus replied, blinking away the tears which had intruded.

"How can you not know something as important as that?" Voldemort pressed. "Sssurely you would have remembered the name of the woman you conceived the bastard with?"

Severus forced a blank look.

Voldemort took a few steps toward the bowing Severus. "The woman'ssss name, Ssssnape!"

"I don't know."

"HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW THE NAME OF A WOMAN YOU'VE ENGAGED IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH?!"

"Because there have been many women!" Severus declared as convincingly as he could. "During your first reign, there were many female Death Eaters, and you've also granted us many trophy women following the raids. Perhaps one of the women I engaged in coitus with, was in the ovulatory stage of her menstrual cycle..."

"I don't ssseem to recall your partaking of any of the trophy women, ever. Or having a relationship with one of the other Death Eaters."

"I was a young, virile man then," Severus attempted to steer Voldemort as far off course as possible. "It is possible for us to complete the act of coitus in a matter or minutes."

"Of courssse, Darkling. "Voldemort said, the tone of skepticism heavy in his voice. "Following which raidsss then, did you claim thessse trophiesss?"

"I do not remember, Master." Severus stated.

Even though the woman's name may not be easily recalled, surely Severus would at least recall the general location of the women he had potentially fathered the bastard with. "How isss it that you can remember the ingredientsss required for the brewing of ssssome of the most complex potionsss, but you cannot even remember the locationsss you had sssex in?!"

"Well, the act of coitus can inhibit one's abilities to..."

"ENOUGH!" Voldemort was exasperated that Severus could not, or more than likely would not tell him anything. "Crabbe!"

"Yes Master." The large man bowed.

Severus gaped at Voldemort's next command.

"Give me your belt." Voldemort smiled evilly at Severus. If nothing could break him before, surely a beating like the ones Snape Sr gave him would. "Lay Sssnape over the desk."

As soon as Crabbe and Goyle held Severus down against the table, Voldemort brought the belt hard against his back. Although Severus willed himself to be silent, by the ninth lash he was sobbing uncontrollably, and by the twelfth lash, he was crying out in pain. Although Severus tried to push back memories of similar punishments at his father's firm hands, his body remembered all too well and reacted accordingly. "Perhaps this will help your memory!" Wormtail teased.

Lucien, who had been watching invisibly all along, went ashen. Seeing Severus tormented in this manner was unbearable to watch. With each lash, Lucien was reminded of how he had failed his son. And now The Dark Lord was using that traumatic memory against Severus in the worst possible way.

When Severus's frock coat and shirt began to fray from the lash, Voldemort simply drew his wand and cut them away. He struck Severus once more using the buckle of Crabbe's belt, causing a welt to rip open and bleed.

"Did thisss improve your memory at all?" Voldemort asked, walking around the table, grabbing Severus's hair and jerking his head up. "Where did you take your pleasure with these women?"

Severus steeled his features, but the tears on his face betrayed him. "I told you, Master. I know nothing about the son I supposedly have, nor do I remember the trophy woman I could have conceived him with."

Furious, Voldemort brought the belt down repeatedly on Severus's back with such force, that it quickly reduced his pale flesh to a striped, bleeding mess. Voldemort quickly grew exhausted and handed the belt to Wormtail who set about the task pure delight, even going so far as to smack Severus across the face and abdominal regions and relishing each time a cry escaped his former rival.

But Severus still would tell Voldemort nothing, wearing the cloak of ignorance like a stubborn, unwavering badge of survival. Voldermort instructed Wormtail to intensify the beatings on Severus.

"Master," Severus said when Wormtail finally had to rest his arm. "What one does not know, one does not know."

"Are you quessstioning my actionssss?!"

"No, of course not..."

"Continue!" Voldemort hissed to Wormtail, who resumed his position eagerly and kicked Severus firmly in the groin before employing the belt.

Now, whenever Severus opened his mouth, he only groaned or screamed in pain.

Lucien could neither listen to, nor watch the flagellation of his son any longer. When Severus hid his face against the hard table, no doubt to hide tears, Lucien decided that he had to help Severus by any means possible. But how? He would have to accomplish this without incurring any more of Voldemort's wrath toward Severus. Any more wrath could mean a sure death.

Lucien decided that diversionary tactics would be safest. Still aloft high in the room, Lucien kicked the cadelabras floating near him. He then transformed his invisible self into a mass of phosphorescent, visible light, and began flying around the room. He started shrieking and wailing in a way that would have rivalled a banshee's. Not even Severus would recognize his own father's voice in this way.

Wormtail dropped the belt in fright. Although Crabbe and Goyle stared dully at the entity flying around the room. Even Voldemort seemed alarmed.

Lucien knocked items off shelves and even dropped a heavy statue on Crabbe's head.

"POLTERGEIST!!" screamed Bacterian running toward the nearest exit.

"Demon!" Bivens caterwauled, running out the door after Bacterian.

"I have not yet excussssed any of you!" The Dark Lord hollered over Lucien's ghostly wailing. He picked up the bloodied belt and raised it over Severus's back once more.

Lucien swooped down on Voldemort, pulled the belt out of his hands and threw it toward one of the fires still burning under one of the cauldrons. Lucien's aim was off due to his trying to throw without a proper elbow...even a ghostly elbow. Instead of the belt landing directly in the flames, it hit the side of the cauldron with such force that it was upended. The oily potion simmering within, spilled all over the floor and into the flames under other cauldrons.

"Blimey!!" shouted one of the robed figured whose voice Severus could not identify.

But it was too late. What looked more like the blast from a fairly large incendiary bomb filled the room. It was all Lucien could do to shove Severus out of the way before he too was caught in the blast. Unfortunately, the shockwave still knocked the dour potions master unconscious.

The robed figures who had been standing in the range of the blast were either killed instantaneously, or else they caught on fire and ran screaming around the room.

The flames quickly spread to the potion racks, and to the oil paintings on the wall where it quickly spread down the halls.

"Dissmisssed!" Voldemort shouted to all the Death Eaters in Montcastle Mansion after magically amplifying his voice with the sonorous spell.

Refraining from chasing after Voldemort and Wormtail for the purpose of kicking them both in their backsides or worse, Lucien gathered his mask and outer robes from the where they had been hung near one of the exits, wrapped Severus in them, and shakily lifted his son into his arms and fled the quickly spreading fires of Montcastle Mansion. Severus was still mortal after all and could not withstand fire like Lucien could.

Not trusting the integrity of his elbowless arm, Lucien tore the Death Eater robes he had loaned to Severus and used them to secure Severus to his semisolid torso. Unable to walk in the ghostly way that Lucien was preferred, he turned himself invisible once more and floated as quickly as he could through dark open fields and unlit alleys back towards Hammersmith and Snape Manor.

Severus did not regain consciousness until they were safely back on the grounds of Snape Manor. It was still dark, although Severus was too disoriented to care. The blast had been too strong. Severus tried to focus his dark eyes on the person carrying him. He could not see the person's face clearly, but he knew this person well. Yes he did. This was the imaginary, kind, father he used to have dreams of in his youth. Severus remembered many sweet, vivid dreams of a man who looked very much like Lucien Snape, the same father who beat him, but the man he dreamed about was kind, caring, and allowed Severus into his potion's lab, even though Severus would sometimes spill potions or make them explode.

"We're home, Sevvie." Lucien whispered into his son's blood soaked hair as they ascended the steps to Snape Manor One.

Severus felt very weary and could hardly keep his eyes open. He did not dare close them though, because if he did, the good, though imaginary father would disappear and he would wake up to see his cruel father again.

"Don't leave me, father!" Severus whispered, his voice distinctly childlike. Severus hurt everywhere and guessed that his bad father must have beaten him. He knew his good father would make him feel better again.

"I won't, Sevvie. I'll never leave again." Lucien said, wondering just how hard the blast had impacted Severus's head to force him to regress to such an early time.

He stopped just before opening the door. The wards were still in place around the manor. How would Lucien pass through the wards? If he did, could he do so safely? Might he be destroyed altogether and not exist at all?

He looked down at himself, and saw that not only part of his elbow was gone now, but so was part of his upper and lower arm. A greater portion of hips had faded as well.

"Oh Sevvie...must I break yet another promise I've made to you?"

End Part Thirty-Seven