CHANGE THE ENDINGS
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.
A/N: As the chapter title hints, I've changed the ending of DH, as well as the ending of our hero. Those who prefer a fully canon-compatible story should stop reading one letter before the end (at "struck down") and ignore the next two chapters. I intend subsequently to add an alternative DH-compatible ending. Thanks to all my reviewers and especially to my previewers, Bellegeste, Lady Memory and Whitehound.
I feel I must warn that Snape's closing words may offend Christian and aggressively atheist readers alike. An explanation follows in my A/N. The story till now: Since Harry's first year, Snape has been easing his troubled mind by sending time-spelled letters twenty years into the future to Hermione. It is now seventh year…
Charity died today. I have watched people die before (chances to change their endings are pitifully few) but she was the first ever to beg me – me! – for aid. What use is it to sit at the Dark Lord's right hand only to watch and do nothing?
Then he called the snake for "dinner" and I felt his hunger, Hermione. He was eating death. The name he chose for his followers belongs to him, not us, and suddenly I understood. He does not "possess" the snake; he is the snake. It is a Horcrux.
He has no scruples to stop him splitting his soul for immortality, nor would he aim so low as to stop at one. Since the diary in your second year I've wondered, but I imagined two or at most three. But diary, snake and boy make three by themselves, and surely "fear for the life of his snake" triggering the boy's sacrifice indicates the existence – and, by then, the destruction – of at least one other.
One? Or more? Seven is the most powerfully magical number. Would he stop there?
Lily's boy knows, I'm sure. This was the information given him last year "for him to do what he needs to do", the information I was not trusted with. (What was I ever trusted with?) And he will give his all. Not for one moment do I doubt that, and it keeps me still tethered, still obedient. I can't save his life, but I can at least ensure his death is not useless.
But how many other lives must I pay to do it?
My predecessor is still pulling the strings. On his orders, I have this very day told the Dark Lord what date the boy leaves Petunia's house. I have already planted the idea with Fletcher to protect him with decoys, multiple Potters to draw the Dark Lord's fire. Targets. I know you will be one of them … Gryffindor.
Fly safely, Hermione. Survive.
S
It was not you, Hermione! Surely it was not you I maimed! You were riding a thestral, not a broom, you must have been. You hate brooms.
(I too. I forced myself to learn after that first disastrous try but I much prefer my own propulsion. Hah, you did not know I could fly free, did you?) But when Yaxley aimed at Lupin's back, I couldn't watch another colleague die, not so soon. His wand arm was too small a target, but I dared not reveal my betrayal by aiming more directly. I can't afford to lose the Dark Lord's trust and with it all my usefulness. So I took a chance.
And failed, as usual. I hope it was not you I maimed.
Moody's dead, I hear. The Dark Lord killed him himself. No other Order bodies were found, so I must hope the rest of you survived. Of all the ridiculous plans! (Sometimes I think the portrait would spend every Order life to shield the boy, but how can he know it will be enough? Or does the prophecy assure that he must survive till the end?)
Is it the prophecy that causes every wand the Dark Lord holds to fail against Lily's boy? He didn't trust his own but borrowed Lucius's, and still it was destroyed. How? I don't know what answer he tortured out of Ollivander, but it seems to have sent him off to find Gregorovitch. For another wand? What wand could he desire that Ollivander could not make him? The Deathstick? I imagine he's as likely to find that as Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem.
S
I stole Lily's photograph today, and her signature on a letter. It belongs to her boy, but I need it. I need the reminder. Surely he will not miss one picture; Hagrid amassed him an album in your first year.
She laughs and I can almost imagine she's smiling at me, as she used sometimes when we were children. I cannot even remember the last time she looked at me like that, only that it was long before I broke our friendship. How many times she must have wished me away but was too polite to say. Too many.
No wonder she spurned my apology. I remember how she looked at me with all the loathing and contempt I always see in her boy's eyes, the same that I used to see in his father's, in her sister's. And after that, it was worse, for she never willingly looked at me again. But she was my friend once. She used to look at me and smile with this same joy.
Even her shade must hate me now. I shall send her son to his death and she will never forgive me.
S
That fool of a boy! I told him not to say the Dark Lord's name. I told him, but when did he ever listen to me?
It was nearly disastrous. Rowle had already called the Dark Lord home. At least someone had the sense to Obliviate all witnesses so no one knew whether the boy was alone or accompanied. (The latter, surely: I doubt he even knows how to cast an Obliviate.) Was it you? You've always been a quick study. I cannot imagine him succeeding even this far without your help.
Rowle paid the price, of course. The Dark Lord chose Draco to cast the Crucios, saying it was all he was good for. Poor Draco. He understands now, too late, what it means to be a Death Eater. I remember the eulogy over Cedric Diggory in your fourth year: a lot of waffle about unity and welcome, but not a word about slavery and horror, not a word that could undeceive the misled. Had I known there was never a chance of protecting Lily's son, what might I not have said? I failed them. I failed them all.
The Ministry fell all too easily. I hear Scrimgeour died for the boy, resisting to the last. I have wondered sometimes if it was a mistake for the Order not to cooperate with him last year. Would he have staved off disaster if we had shared what we knew about the extent of the infiltration? Perhaps not, but at the least he'd have arraigned Madam Toad, and the new Muggle-born Registration Commission would be in less experienced hands.
You will need more than an Invisibility Cloak to stay hidden now. Grimmauld Place might be safe. It has far the strongest protections of any Order house, but will you dare go there, knowing I am a Secret-Keeper too? (In truth, it is Mundungus Fletcher's discretion you should worry about, not mine. I have said the Secret died with the Keeper, and fortunately, the workings of the Fidelius are too obscure for anyone to contradict me.)
If you are there, stay put. Otherwise, keep on the move and don't get complacent. If ever there was a time to remember Moody's old catchword, it is now.
S
Spattergroit? I hope that is merely a ruse to conceal the Weasley boy's being in your company, for none of you can afford to get ill now. They listed your name in the Daily Prophet today as "wanted for interrogation" but I hope that will be as unsuccessful as their earlier listing of Lily's boy.
Skeeter's book has caused much gloating here. Dumbledore's hypocrisy, his alliances with Grindelwald, his hidden Squib sister and her mysterious death … I wonder if Potter will still call himself Dumbledore's man after he reads it. (Supposing he reads it at all, which is doubtful.) For myself it makes no difference. If anyone can understand how a youth may change his views with age, it is I.
S
I returned to Hogwarts today. When I came here for the first time, I imagined I would find it a home. When I returned as a teacher, I knew it for a prison. This time, it is a coffin, with the lid nailed shut.
Phineas tried to welcome me to their "august company". (The very words Lucius used all those years ago. Purebloods call every company they belong to "august".)
"I have already joined one august company too many," I told him. "I no more wish to hang on these walls than hang on a gibbet."
S
A raid on the Ministry? You foolish children! What were you hoping to achieve? Was it Moody's eye you hoped to liberate or the Muggle-borns of the day? You may have saved those few, but that was a drop in the ocean, and you have made it impossible for the Order to do anything for the rest. Security has been ratcheted higher than ever and Order members who work at the Ministry are particularly closely watched.
Yaxley confirms the infiltrators numbered three, of dubious identity. (Yet I do not doubt it was you three. I know your style.) Grimmauld Place is no longer Secret-kept now. If the Dark Lord were not out of the country hunting a wand, I might have had some difficult questions to answer on that score. Lucky me.
Already your exploits have sparked imitators here. Longbottom, Weasley and Lovegood tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor (a copy only, but they didn't know that) from my office. How they thought they could get it to you I can't imagine, for I saw their ignorance of your whereabouts clearly in two minds. (Lovegood's is very curious. She was thinking of gold chains and paintings.) How I am to get it to you I don't know either. But at least now I have an excuse to send the copy to Gringotts, so that when the real one turns up in the right hands, it will not be blamed on me.
I sent them for detention with Hagrid. The Carrows, of course, are salivating at the prospect of dictating and supervising punishments, but I will hold them off as long as I may.
Where are you now and what have you done with Phineas's portrait? He tells me it lies in a jumble of possessions, including enough books for a library. He gave some names that confirm my suspicions: Secrets of the Darkest Arts, in particular. The newest portrait smiles and says we must hope you speak your location in Phineas's hearing. A likely prospect!
S
News of you, at last! Phineas is still spluttering with fury over your blindfolding him, but it was a good thought. You must know he reports to me.
You interrogated him about the sword and the punishment your friends earned for trying to steal it, but I was a little surprised you didn't think to ask how they are now. That was almost two months ago and surely you don't imagine they've grown more cautious since, just because the school is run by Death Eaters. They have been blooded twice – in the Ministry, and here, last year – and they are eager to bloody in return.
They do not suspect my connivance in their success. All the portraits and, to a lesser extent, the ghosts answer to me, and I have instructed them to shield the rebels from discovery wherever possible. The house elves keep faith with my predecessor, but as they cannot work directly against me nor disobey my orders they must content themselves with tormenting the Carrows.
S
What has happened to Weasley? I have heard no news of his capture, yet Phineas says he hears only two voices and Weasley's is not one of them. He says he hears misery in your voices and in the frequency with which you've begun to call him. You may take care to blindfold him, but he is not blind.
Finally you're asking about your friends, after all this time. Why the sudden interest? Did you only just remember them or have you nothing else to think of? And what might that mean for the progress of your task? Is there any, or are you as stuck as you sound?
The newest portrait offers no information, and I do not ask, for clearly, he doesn't wish me to know. (He told me last year that I was "a basket that dangles on the Dark Lord's arm ... And you do it extremely well," he added. Does he think me a child to be so easily pacified?) I could order him to speak, but he is no less evasive than ever and the task I am assigned does not include acting as your assistant and general factotum.
When I learn where you are, I will bring you the sword, but how will I do that? As soon as Phineas starts to probe you pack him back into your bag. I believe I know how I may approach you, however. Lily lives yet in my Patronus (it is a doe), and her boy will see her in it and follow. I have only to stay silent and out of sight.
Your friends are well, and up to mischief, although I've no doubt they call it battle and rebellion. Dumbledore's army lives. They have no idea how a real Death Eater would react to their defiance, and I will hold off the Carrows from showing them as long as I can. I've had to reinstate Madam Toad's restrictions on student societies and gatherings of three or more students, and ban Miss Weasley from Hogsmeade visits. That will not deter her, or any of them, of course, but as long as they stay undercover, I can feign ignorance.
Do you know what it is to be hated; to be pierced at every turn by looks that wish they could kill? Even Horace will not look me in the eye. If not for the portraits – batty and boring as they are by turns – I should go mad.
S
It looks to be the most miserable Yule I've had in a long time. All who could go home did so, leaving only those whose parents are in Azkaban or dead, and a few of the staff. In such small company, the Carrows are even more obtrusive.
I miss my predecessor's physical presence. His twinkle. His garish robes. I even miss the awful crackers he always insisted on pulling with me.
I'm afraid I have bad news about one of your friends. The Lovegood girl was taken from the Hogwarts Express on her way home to be a hostage for her father's good behaviour. His joke of a paper has become the voice of free thought (I suppose it always was, in a way, although the freedom was far greater than the thought), and that is not to be borne, it seems. Draco has unwillingly confirmed to me that she is in a Malfoy dungeon.
I've sometimes thought she would have made an excellent Slytherin, but that she seems never to have felt even the tiniest trace of ambition, which is to say, dissatisfaction with her lot. You will not find this a compliment, of course, but there is more to our House's proud history than Muggle-baiting and Death Eating. Does Slytherin even still exist in your time, or has dislike turned to annihilation? In my schooldays, there were Gryffindors who found my house reason enough to try to kill me, so it doesn't seem too far a stretch.
Longbottom has surprised me. Miss Weasley adequately replaces all her brothers put together, and Lovegood used to contrive a good deal of cunning mayhem behind that vague manner, but it is the boy of the new trio who has been most openly defiant, undeterred by the stripes and hexes he earns as a result. I never thought to see the school rally around him.
S
The Forest of Dean! I would criticise your carelessness in letting Phineas overhear if it wasn't so welcome. After he reported your location, it was the work of a moment to Apparate there from outside the castle and loose my Patronus to lead me to your general area. I could not detect your campsite, but my silver doe was more successful.
She lured Lily's boy to the frozen pool where I'd placed the sword. It needed to be "taken under conditions of need and valour", and I conceived that immersing in icy water in the middle of winter would be valorous enough. It was not deep enough for danger, I thought.
I was wrong. The boy needs a keeper. He has not even sense enough to remove a Horcrux from around his neck before threatening it with destruction. (I could sense the locket's malevolence from where I stood, and his chest held a fresh scarlet burn that I glimpsed as the locket shifted. Did he not learn from its first attack to be wary?) Had not your other friend returned at that very moment, I'd have had to jump in myself.
Whatever young Weasley is lacking, he has at least some common sense amongst the recklessness. At his first words ("Are – you – mental? Why the hell didn't you take this thing off before you dived?"), my disquiet eased. Between the two of you, Lily's boy should be in capable hands.
The burn is not his only new scar. I recognise the puncture marks on his arm. He's tangled with Nagini – very recently, from the looks of it. That would explain the rumours of the Dark Lord's return, and of his rage. It must have been a very close call. Luckily, the bite must have been to immobilise only, not to kill, as the anti-venin is too complex for your skills, and in any case, takes too long to brew. I carry a vial with me always, but you would not accept it from me or even from unknown hands, and you have enough experience of Polyjuice to be wary even of a proven friend. (Except Hagrid, I suppose, but how would he reach you?)
Perhaps I could use my Patronus to draw you to what would look like a secret cache? Only you and Weasley might find her silence suspicious, and she can hardly speak to you in my own voice at this present. I wonder. Could I use a memory of someone else's voice to give my doe words? It would need to be one you trusted, and words that fit. I must think about this.
S
You've escaped again. Lovegood is too dotty to present much of an obstacle, but what were you doing there in the first place and why did you stay so long that you were almost caught? I cannot imagine a reason that makes sense. You can't have thought he knew how to free his daughter or where she was kept. Indeed, I gather he claims you asked him about Beedle's tales. A likely story!
I hope the girl will not suffer for it. Bellatrix rules at Malfoy Manor now, and she needs little excuse to torture. It is only the Dark Lord's forbearance that stays her hand.
(Yes, he can forbear where it suits him. He wants to remake our world, not destroy it utterly. Magic would still exist, and Hogwarts and life, and everything but what makes living bearable, courage and freedom and family and trust.)
S
It is months since I heard any news of you. Since Weasley returned, you stopped calling on Phineas. I suppose he scolded the pair of you for the risks you took in his absence. I should rejoice in his carefulness, but I confess I miss my regular reports of your doings.
The alternate trio is down to one. Miss Weasley has not returned from her Easter trip home. It seems her family has gone into hiding. They should be safe, for a while at least. Hagrid is gone too, I'm afraid. He was foolish enough to host a "Support Harry Potter" party. I was barely able to warn him in time.
This has been the longest year of my life. Every prick of student scorn, every stab of hatred from my colleagues, freezes me. It is all I can do sometimes not to throw the lie into their faces. I am not a Death Eater, we are on the same side! Or at any rate, I am on their (your) side; no one has ever been on mine.
I used to cherish the illusion that at least I did not lie to myself. I see now that I have never done anything else. Did I really believe that you (anyone) would truly read these maudlin ravings of mine, I'd be too ashamed to send them. And yet I do not destroy them, but time-spell each one as I finish, just as if I expected you to hang on every word. More fool I.
S
The Dark Lord was here this morning, early, just as the sun was rising. He sent me back to the castle, choosing to wander the grounds alone. But he let slip a little news of you.
You escaped from Malfoy Manor, breaking out the other prisoners with you. He is furious, especially with Bellatrix, whom he left in charge. The Malfoys have all been thoroughly Crucioed for their failure.
Forgive the question, but are you quite well? Draco spoke of torture and you in one breath… (He would not met my eyes, of course. He has not since fifth year.) I rejoice at your escape, even as I tremble at the risks you take. Silly girl. How – Why did you let yourselves be captured? Surely you did not let yourselves be taken for the sake of freeing the rest, and yet it seems that everywhere you go you free the oppressed.
This is not the time. Yes, redeeming captives is a laudable objective, but not for you, not now. You have the job of defeating the Dark Lord, and you must not let yourselves be distracted by any lesser good on the way. (Or do I only say this in defence of myself? Have I kept my eyes too firmly fixed on the ends to properly deal with the middles?)
S
I should have known this long silence was the prelude to another desperate escapade. Even at Gringotts you found a captive to free. But I must suppose by the Dark Lord's fury that this latest adventure was a heavy stroke against him. Another Horcrux? He has warned me to watch for you here. And I shall, if not for quite the reason he wishes.
If you come, I shall have to persuade you to flee. It's too soon. To the best of my knowledge, the snake still roams free. There is no indication that he fears for her life, which means at least one other Horcrux remains. He must not meet Lily's boy before all of them are destroyed.
It is puzzling. Why would you come here, and why would he be expecting it? Has he reactivated the link between their minds? I warned my predecessor of the risk, but he insisted there was none, that the Dark Lord's soul could not bear the contact. Surely you do not expect to find a Horcrux here? At Hogwarts? Right under my predecessor's very nose?
I am racking my brains for a way to convince you to trust me. My Patronus will not be enough, not if it is my voice you hear speaking through it. If Madam Toad can produce a Patronus, why would you suppose the mere production of my doe a proof of good intentions or goodwill? Perhaps my memories … Only why would you trust me enough to dip into a Pensieve? Veritaserum is too easily subverted, apart from which you would not trust any I supplied and probably have none of your own.
I must go. Perhaps you are even now sneaking into the castle. I must find you before the Carrows do.
S
I have failed again. You were near, but I was blocked from speaking and barely escaped with my life. "Coward", Minerva called me, because I fled rather than hexed back. As if I could have borne to kill her or Pomona or Filius. Or Horace, had he joined in on their side. (Would he have stayed his hand long enough for me to explain? I really don't know.)
It is too late to beg you to leave now. You are too Gryffindor to abandon your friends to the fate you brought on them. We can't avoid the Dark Lord's wrath falling on the school, now that it is in open rebellion and he on his way back to find you. One of the Carrows must have called him here. I felt it in my own Mark.
At any rate, I have been freed of one of my promises by this expulsion. When I am able to tell Lily's boy that the Dark Lord fears for the life of his snake, I shall be freed of the other, and of my slavery. I rebelled against the Dark Lord almost two decades ago. It has only been my Order duties keeping me at his side since then.
My Patronus will take a message culled from my predecessor's own words: "Part of Voldemort lives inside Harry … while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to, and protected by, Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die … Voldemort himself must do it… when he does set out to meet his death, it will, truly, mean the end of Voldemort…"
Surely the boy will believe that.
And then I shall be free at last, free to save and protect as many as I can, free to fight without compulsion.
After – if there is an after for me (Do I even want an after? I'm not sure.) – perhaps I will find a den somewhere to hide in quiet obscurity. Somewhere they will never find me. (A pipedream. I cannot imagine such a pleasant end to my story.) Think of me kindly sometimes, twenty-years-hence Hermione, if you think of me at all. If the woman to whom I write indeed exists.
S
Struck down from behind by Longbottom. How he must have exulted. The first I knew was when I woke up in this cell. They have given me paper to write a confession and I use it instead to write to you one last time, although I know no way of getting it to you without my wand. Broken, they tell me. I cannot even prove it was I that sent Lily's boy the Patronus. (Would I have fared better had I answered the Dark Lord's call? But when Lucius told me the snake was protected, I saw no need to bow and scrape again.)
The evidence Albus left was destroyed, of course. He had always too much faith in man's goodness. They plan to send me through the Veil tonight, in front of as many onlookers as the room will hold.
I, who have nothing left to hope for, find that I have still one last hopeful dream, that I see your face once more before the end. I mean no blasphemy, but the words of my childhood seem strangely fitting. Into your care I commend my spirit.
S
A/N The last paragraph was the first part of the chapter – possibly the very first part of the entire story – to be written. That was around two years ago. Because the twisting of Christian liturgy may offend some, I feel I need to explain why I found it necessary to keep it and even emphasise it.
The wizarding world has neither religion nor humanism, no attempt to grapple with death and loss. Snape's understanding of his childhood lessons remains at the level of his age at the time, precluding belief, but something of their power remains with him, causing him to reproduce imperfectly the half-forgotten patterns. After all, what has he been doing in these letters to Hermione if not "confessing" himself? And what can he be other than truthful?
For those less familiar with DH, I include a timeline by chapter and date/month, with events distributed into their time of occurrence, not their time of mention:
"Charity died..." - ch 1, late July
"It was not you..." - chs 4-5, July 27
"I stole Lily's photograph..." - before ch 9, late July
"That fool of a boy..." - ch 9, Aug 1
"Spattergroit..." - ch 11, Aug 22
"I returned to Hogwarts..." - ch 12, Sept 1
"A raid on the Ministry..." - chs 12-13, Sept 2
"News of you..." - ch 15, late Oct
"What has happened to Weasley..." - ch 16, Oct/Nov
"It looks to be..." - ch 16, Dec 20
"The Forest of Dean..." - ch 19, Dec 26
"You've escaped again..." - chs 20-21, Dec 28
"It is months..." - ch 22, March
"The Dark Lord..." - chs 23-24, late March
"I should have known..." - ch 26, May 1
"I have failed..." - ch 30, May 1
"Struck down from behind..." - end, May
Some quotes are from DH, for instance ch 33. There's no indication in canon whether Snape knows about Voldemort's Horcruxes, but I had him recognise the diary as one in ch 2, and if he is an expert in Dark Arts, he should have recognised the "fragment of soul … attached to, and protected by Harry" as one. "Seven is the most powerfully magical number" is Voldemort's reasoning in HBP, ch 23.
I've chosen for Snape to call Umbridge "Madam Toad", in line with ch 5.
I have chosen to identify Snape's memory of "a girl … laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick" (OotP, ch 26) as Snape's first attempt at broom flight.
The "august company" line is not canon. I've taken it from JK's description of the portraits when asked about Snape's absence in ch 36, and extrapolated it to Lucius's recruitment pitch. We don't actually know that he was Snape's recruiter, but it seems likely enough.
I place the attempt to steal the sword very early in the school year, because Griphook knew it before he left Gringotts, and he joined up with Dirk Cresswell a "couple of days" after Dirk went on the run, which must have been around the time of the trio's Ministry invasion on Sept 2. (The information against him is openly discussed by more than one Ministry worker in chs 12 and 13.) In ch 15, the day Ron storms off, Dirk says he's been on the run "six weeks ... seven ... I forget..."
Luna's "gold chains and paintings" is a reference to the portraits in her bedroom, linked with what appear at first to be golden chains, but are actually the word friends "repeated a thousand times in golden ink..."
We don't know when Neville took centre stage. I've placed it fairly early in the year.
We don't know if a Patronus could penetrate Hermione's wards, but there has to have been some way for Snape to narrow down their location within the forest.
The captive freed at Gringotts was the dragon.
Patronus messages always use the sender's voice in canon, but I've chosen to suppose Snape used his powers of invention to craft a method for using another voice. (I wonder if Polyjuice would work, BTW.)