Chapter 29:

The road to hell is paved with good intentions:

Harry's thoughts were still a perfect imitation of a roller coaster, as, late that night, he found himself on his way to the Gryffindor common room, Remus Lupin walking at his side. After all the explanations this morning, Dumbledore had sent the werewolf to cancel all of Harry's classes. Remus had told the other teachers, as well as Ron and Hermione, that Harry would be needed to assist him in a project that would be taking up most of the day. Towards Harry however, Dumbledore had guiltily admitted that he would certainly need some time to get over the shock and that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his lessons anyhow.

And so, Harry had spent the whole day in the company of the man who meant so much to him and whom he thought never to see again.

This alone might actually have been enough reason to celebrate, but his joy was clouded over by the knowledge of Dumbledore's betrayal and the fact that it had been himself who had ruined everything and sentenced a man to death for something that he was not guilty of. All the old good reasons, which he had laid down in his mind before and which had made the whole thing seem right, had just evaporated into nothing and it had taken a long time for him to believe Dumbledore and Sirius' words that it hadn't been his fault and that Snape's chances to survive had been less then slim from the beginning. As soon as Voldemort would have noticed that his powers were growing weaker, which without doubt would have happened eventually, the dark lord would with all likelihood have seen through the potion master's game and have killed him. Snape had been aware of that from the start and had still agreed to try.

Moreover, the poison had been a good chance, but not their only one; the adults had tried to comfort him.

Still, Harry found himself wondering if they believed that themselves or if they were merely trying to placate him. He remembered all too well how Dumbledore had warned him not to take the affair into his own hands, since the border between good and evil was so small. Harry asked himself, not for the first time today either, if he hadn't already crossed that border. And it was this thought that frightened him above all else.

"What are you thinking about, Harry?" Lupin's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing", Harry answered, distractedly, chasing away his doubts for the moment by concentrating on something different. "Say, Remus. How was it possible for Snape to smuggle the poison into Azkaban in the first place, if you even went so far as to create an injury to hide the small portkey. How could Snape have hidden the vial with the poison?"

"He didn't", answered Remus. "He didn't have the poison with him in Azkaban. He retrieved it later here in Hogwarts."

'Of course', Harry thought. That made sense.

"The writing on the wall", he said out loud.

Remus nodded. "Yes. He told you-know-who that he wanted revenge on Dumbledore and planned to frighten him. The dark lord likes such games, as you have seen in your second year. Snape told him that he knew of a secret passage that he could use. The headmaster had put the vial behind a loose brick before and we had agreed that Severus would leave a message if everything went according to plan. Against common belief, Snape's true nature is not to kill and when he was a deatheater he somehow acted against his nature. Those who didn't know would see in the message nothing else but a threat, but in reality it confirmed Snape's loyalty towards professor Dumbledore."

"But why didn't Voldemort start an attack here in Hogwarts, if he could get to know a secret passage?"

"Because the passage is too small to let an army through and the dark lord has too much respect for Dumbledore. Pettigrew knows of some secret passages too, yet never before did Voldemort attempt to attack through one of those."

They walked silently side by side for a moment, when Harry remembered something else. "But why did Dumbledore tell us that you, after Sirius was...after it looked like Sirius were dead, had been given a sedative, if you'd known that he was alive?"

Remus laughed softly at that. "He lied to you to explain my absence. If Sirius would really have been dead, I certainly would have been in the hospital wing with him."

"Then why were you not there?"

"Because I'm such a lousy actor."

Harry had definitely not expected such an explanation. He regarded the werewolf perplexedly. The older wizard smiled, embarrassed. "Sirius and Severus had for once agreed on something. They both were convinced that I'd mess up the whole thing. I can hardly tell a convincing lie, especially if I have to look someone in the eyes." He shrugged apolitically. "It's been like this since my own school days, and it hasn't changed. We all decided that it would be best if I'd be present as little as possible."

If only Remus would have given away the plan, Harry thought bitterly, then he wouldn't find himself in this position now. But he knew that it were useless to ask again for the 'why'.

Because people had treated him like a little kid and had not trusted him with the truth. There lay the 'why' that had started the whole misery. Okay, Remus might be a lousy actor but they could have had a bit more faith in him to display the rumours even if he had known of the plan.

He would definitely have succeeded, he told himself to quieten the soft voice in the back of his head, which told him that he would never have been so convincing if his hatred for Snape were merely played. That hatred had eaten itself so deeply into his soul that not even now had it let go of him. Now that the man was dead, confirming with that Harry's terrible mistake, which caused a heavy guilt to settle in his heart with which he now would have to live for the rest of his life.

"Do you want me to come along, Harry?" asked Remus, as they arrived in front of the portrait of the fat lady.

Harry shook his head. "No. Thank you for accompanying me here, Remus."

Dismissing the werewolf, he named the password and stepped through the hole in the wall as the portrait of the fat lady moved aside, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Every last one of the Gryffindors was assembled in the common room singing and cheering loud paroles all at once, making the texts almost indiscernible, yet several linen sheets were hung on the wall with some of the paroles written on them. Harry could make one out just above the fireplace, the text of which he now distinguished as being sung over and over again.

Snape was greasy. Snape was a fool, now he's roasting in hell, oh isn't that cool.

"Hey, hold on for a minute", a beaming Ron yelled over the crowd. The common singing died out and everybody looked expectantly towards the redhead.

"How do you like that one?" he jumped on a chair and cleared his throat loudly and in mock-importance.

We once had a teacher who called us dunderhead.

He mangled with Potter and now he's dead.

Harry Potter is the best,

He's given the git eternal rest."

Harry felt uncomfortably touched, yet as he heard the cheering applause of the other Gryffindors he felt like being sick. It was really true what Ron was saying here. All the students hated Snape, even though the teacher had risked his life for them. They had no idea about what had really happened and only knew Ron's version, in which Harry had defeated Snape and which Ron had obviously shared freely. And then, for the first time, Harry realized that the man who he had hated since the beginning, didn't deserve that hatred, no matter how bad his attitude and how poor his ability to relate to other people was. Just like Sirius had been thrown innocently to Azkaban, Snape was blamed undeservedly.

Of course, he was an insufferable, bitter and often unfair man, but he had still been willing to go farther and risk more for the side of light than probably any of the students present. Damn; probably more than most human beings. No matter how much Harry may have despised the man in his class, he did deserve that his memory was treated with respect. Harry fought the urge to be sick, which grew steadily now. It was indirectly his fault that Snape had died and even if Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus told him over and over again that it hadn't been single-handedly his fault, he knew that it would never have happened without him either. And even if they told him that Snape knew the risk, then this attitude of the people here, this joy about the death of a human that they had known, managed to put him down for good.

Only then, Ron realized his being here and grinned widely at him, before he jumped off his chair, hurried over to him and laid his arm happily around Harry's shoulder. "Hey, mate. I hope you're not mad that I didn't wait for you to tell the others about Snape's…" with his flat hand, he made a cutting gesture over his throat, while he grinned, "…demise. I just couldn't hold back the great news any longer. They ought to know that the greasy git has gotten back every little thing which he has ever done to us."

"Oh will you just shut up, Ron?" Harry answered, angered about his friend's open enthusiasm. Ron had no idea what he was saying. Snape was a sorry bastard but he didn't deserve such a fate and all this hatred. Nobody did, but neither had he realized that until it had been too late.

"What's wrong Harry?" Ron asked perplexed. He had clearly expected that his friend would react otherwise, and this made Harry even angrier because in a time not long ago, which seemed millennia past, he would have cheered along with them -- sometime, before he had learned that things were often not as they seemed and that every life was precious.

"You all make me sick!" he finally screamed into the crowd of Gryffindors, who instantly quietened and looked confusedly in his direction. "You're all...Oh God." Harry felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes. All those people here were sick, simply sick and inhuman – just like him.

Harry twisted from under Ron's arm as his flight-instinct came on. He wanted nothing but to get out of here, out of the room full of students who reminded him painfully of his own faults. As fast as he could, he elbowed his way through the crowd and hurried towards his dormitory, barely registering that he was crying.

He rushed up the steps and stormed into his bedroom, shutting the door with a loud bang behind him. Belly first, he let himself fall onto his bed and pressed a cushion close to his chest in a senseless try to chase away this feeling of desperate anguish. He was no better than his housemates. How could he ever have accepted so willingly the death of another human being? How could he ever have thought it to be a right thing to do?

He heard the door to the room creak open as somebody entered the piece. Harry wanted to be alone, yet at the same time he needed someone to whom he could tell everything. Somebody who would understand and whose understanding would lessen his sense of guilt -- if such a thing were feasible at all.

"Harry?" Ron asked hesitating.

Harry let go of his cushion and sat up, whipping the tears off his face with his sleeve. He looked up to his friend who studied him worriedly, but also a bit lost. Harry didn't know what to say. Where should he start to tell his friend that they had made a terrible mistake? In the end, only one single question came over his lips: "Where is Hermione?"

"She's in the girl's dormitory. She didn't really want to party along. You know her. Even if it was Snape, who deserved every thing he got, she's not the type to celebrate about something like that."

At Ron's words, the lump of guilt only took deeper root in Harry's chest and he became angry again, but before he could retort with anything, an breathless Hermione stormed into the room, sending the door banging against the wall in her hurry.

"Mione, what are you doing in here.? This is the boy's dormitory!" protested Ron.

Hermione ignored him and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "Patil came and told me that something seemed to be wrong with you, Harry. Are you hurt? Did something happen, while you were with Lupin?"

Hermione's worry hurt. A lot and Harry felt again, how new tears started to flow down his face. "I wasn't with Remus."

Ron sat down on the edge of his own bed besides Harry's and regarded his friend intently. "But we were told that you'd have to help him with something and wouldn't come to class today for that reason." He narrowed his eyes worriedly and suspiciously. "Harry, where have you been the whole day?

Harry only listened with one ear. His thoughts didn't want to keep still. Snape was dead, everybody hated him and it was all his fault. He didn't only take the potion master's life; no, he had destroyed the man in every possible way, although Snape had only wanted to save them. "Oh God. We have made a terrible mistake. Sirius was wrong. It HAS been my fault. Everybody hates Snape and for that too, I'm responsible. I destroyed him. Me alone."

"What are you talking about Harry?"

Harry hadn't even been aware that he'd talked that out loud, but he couldn't gather the force to answer Ron and instead only stared mutely at the red bedspread of his bed.

"Harry talk to us", Hermione now urged anxiously. "You're starting to scare us here. What happened? Where have you been?"

Harry regarded his friends pained "I was in Dumbledore's office. He told me to spend the day with Sirius and has therefore cancelled all my classes."

The two exchanged a worried glance, before they turned back to Harry. "Harry? I think you should go see Madame Pomfrey. You're not well." Ron said carefully.

Harry's anger came back. Why didn't they understand? He hurled the cushion, which he had just before pressed against his own body, forcefully against the wall behind his bed.

"God damn it, don't you understand? It was all planned out. From the beginning, they have played us and I have destroyed a life because of it."

Hermione's and Ron's expressions showed that they still didn't understand.

"What was planned out?" asked Hermione.

"All of it. The fight, the murder, Azkaban and the escape over to Voldemort… Well, just about every last bit of it." They still didn't seem to understand, or then not wanted to understand the implications of what Harry told them. "Sirius is not dead. It was all a lie!" he finally yelled.

Ron's eyes widened so impossibly big until white entirely encircled his pupils, whilst Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, as if to bodily hold back a shriek, which would have escaped her otherwise.

"But how… why?" Ron finally asked, and Harry told them about the Dumbledore's plan and the poison, which Snape should brew and bring to Voldemort. Of the whole, complicated but well thought through plan, which may even have worked out, if they hadn't made the mistake to send the disastrous letter.

"I would never have thought", Ron whispered after a moment of stunned silence, "that I'd ever see the day in which I'd be feeling sorry for Snape."

T.B.C.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake.