Chapter 30:
A dead man's worth 2:
Severus woke several times, only to find himself alone in the cell. At the third time, he finally managed to stay awake sufficiently and collect enough of his remaining strength to get up on his knees and crawl to one of the walls, propping himself up against it. He guessed that the blood loss was to fault for his current weakness, but slowly, Voldemort's healing curse seemed to bring some of it back. Even as the dryness in his throat was still present, the pain seemed to have somewhat diminished.
As he sat there, leaning against the wall, he took the time to inspect the cell a bit better. There was no furniture, windows nor sanitary facilities, only cold, grey concrete walls surrounding a four by four metre space. One solitary torch, left in a rectangular outline in the wall in the shape of a door across from him, threw a flickering, unsteady light over the walls, making them look irregular and even rougher than it already felt against the potions master's skin. Severus was aware of the bareness' sense of this room, the absence of a bed and a toilet. When the torture would start, then the most fundamental bodily needs would loose their importance very fast.
At least it was dry here and not as cold and drafty as his cell in Azkaban had been.
Severus knew the procedure. It had been no coincidence that Malfoy had come to announce his return for the torture. The other wizard just seemed to forget that Severus himself knew about the tactics of torture. He had even learned some of it under Lucius himself.
'The true art of torture, Severus, is to break the victim's spirit without even using violence,' he heard the voice in his head, as Lucius had given him his first lesson. 'There are some useful ways to accomplish that. Depending on the mental strength of the victim, you don't even need to touch him or her one single time. It's a game in which you hold complete control. You play with your superiority and his or her fear."
Plant the expectation of something terrible in the victim's soul and then let them wait. It was a common method to make the victim nervous and fearful before the actual torture even took place. Unfortunately for Lucius, it wouldn't work on him. Severus already was in immense pain and he wouldn't fight the Crutiatus. Of course, it was an undignified and painful death, but he had nothing to lose at the moment. If he played it just right, he would get Malfoy to keep the curse on him long enough to grant him a relatively fast death. A human's normal reaction would be to try evading the pain but Severus would do no such thing. Two could play at that manipulative game and he planned to play it better than Lucius.
Of course, he felt a healthy amount of fear of what was to come. No sane human being would welcome the prospect of such agony, but even if he feared the pain, so not death. Not anymore. Since the day that he had understood the connotation of life and death, he had not stopped to ask himself why he was alive at all. Only had he always been too much of a coward to actively do something to correct that mistake. Now, he would soon be getting to know the other side and the fact that he had expected this outcome since the beginning of his mission, made the whole story here to be the probably most complicated suicide of all time.
Severus had no means to know for how long he already sat here. Mostly, he had been unconscious and there was no daylight by which he could judge the passing of time. The absence of smoke above the flame on the torch showed him that it was a magical fire, which didn't really burn or consume the wood of the torch and thus indicating any passing of time. This too was part of the exercise to weaken torture victims. Take away their feeling for time, their orientation and later their identity and they will do and say everything you want from them.
They had taken away his robes and shoes too but at least he still had his trousers and his black shirt. It wouldn't have surprised him, if they'd taken away all of his clothes. A weak person could be robbed of their defences by forcing them into public nudeness, yet Voldemort, as well as Malfoy would know that those means would not impress him. Too often had he been humiliated in comparable ways, so it would hardly break him anymore, especially if he knew the reasons behind.
Severus sighed, thankfully realizing that it didn't burn all that badly anymore to make a sound. He leaned his head on the cool concrete wall behind his body and stared at the ceiling, while he busied himself to mentally work through his newest potions-experiment, a draught against the after effects of the Crutiatus curse. He smirked bitterly. Kind of ironic, if he thought about it. Not that he would ever be able to finish the draught anyway now, but it gave him something else to focus on whilst waiting for Voldemort's dark curse as it slowly healed his wound. Something that he was less than thankful for. It would only increase the time, and therefore the pain, when Lucius could hold him under Crucio.
It felt as if time had stopped flowing while the three teenagers sat silently on the two beds in the boys' dormitory, until a soft sob from Hermione broke through the silence.
"I should have known, I was not happy about it from the start. I should have tried to stop it more vehemently", she said with self-loathing, while tears of anguish built in her eyes.
Ron was with her instantly and laid one arm comfortingly around her shoulders. "It wasn't your fault, Hermione. We have all been parts in it. Don't beat yourself up over it. You've been the only one who showed any second thoughts at all, anyhow."
She didn't seem to hear him, however, or if she did, she didn't take notice of his words. "I am a murderer."
"Not just you", Ron whispered and Harry noticed a shiny film, looking conspiringly like tears, cover the read-head's eyes s well.
Harry's tears flowed again, no matter how much he tried to keep them at bay. It had all been so perfect. His hate for Snape had justified all his actions back then, but now, everything had changed. It was, as if he had grown up in a heartbeat the minute that he had seen the party, and now all his well-nourished feelings of hate felt nothing but pathetic anymore.
Before, he had taken into account only the death of Sirius' killer, without spending a thought about the human being. A person who had known about feelings and pain. A human being with a past, a childhood and friends. Who had once been a little innocent kid, loved by his parents. Everybody is somebody's best friend; he had once read that in a muggle-magazine. Everybody, even a bitter, unapproachable, and student-bullying professor was a human being with fears and feelings. That spiteful teacher had possessed a sense of honour, which had let him risk his life for the mere chance to defeat the dark side. The mean, greasy git of a man had just made it so easy for them to forget, or willingly overlook the fact, that he was ready to do everything in his power for the side of light.
Yes. Today, three sixteen-year-old teenagers had been brutally ripped into adulthood, he thought, whilst he watched Ron comfort Hermione, holding her tightly and speaking soothing words to her.
They had to do something to make it up to Snape. At least as much as they still could. His decision made, he jumped off his bed with determination. "We will go down there now and tell everybody what really happened. That Snape died for our cause. If we, especially myself, have taken his life, then I will at least take care that he's keeping his honour intact. He will stay in everybody's memory as a hero who died fighting evil and not as a traitor."
Ron looked at him with shock. "But you can't do that. Do you want to tell them that Snape was a spy? The Slytherins would get wind of it eventually."
"And so what?" asked Harry defiantly. "What can they do? Go spill the news to Voldemort?" He ignored his friend's wince at the mentioning of the dark wizard's name. "Snape is dead, Ron. It doesn't matter anymore if we tell the truth. His cover can't be blown anymore. Voldemort already believes the truth, but we can at least give Snape the recognition for his acts."
"And what do you want to tell them about Sirius? He's still a wanted fugitive. If we spill out that he's not dead and happily residing in Dumbledore's quarters, then he, as well as the headmaster are history."
"We will tell them the truth but leave out that Sirius is still here. The ministry may not believe us, as well as some of the students, but the Gryffindors have been told by us before that Sirius is my Godfather, so they probably will."
Ron nodded seriously and Hermione chewed her lower lip in an attempt to suppress her tears.
So, they made their way back towards the common room. They expected noises from the party to drift up to them, as soon as they stepped into the hallway but all that they met was a pregnant silence.
Curious, they descended the stairs towards the common room.
They stopped at the lowest stair step, when a horde of Gryffindors, their back to them, blocked their way. Harry and his friends tried to get a look over the crowd to see what had captured their interest at such a point, but he only succeeded when he retreated two steps up the stair. Ron and Hermione mirrored him and they all looked curiously over the heads of the crowd towards the entrance of the common room, where everybody else seemed to be caught by something of great interest.
There, right in front of the opening stood professor McGonagall, having her arms stemmed into her sides and wearing an expression that would easily freeze hell.
"As I can see, nobody seems able to answer my question appropriately," she hissed in a perfect imitation of her Animagus form. "You really have no explanation as to why you find the death of another human being so amusing?"
Some of the students lowered their heads guiltily, and Harry had the impression he had missed an important part of what had happened so far.
A short plump Auror, holding a goblet of fire whisky walked, with a somewhat unsteady step, up to her. Mayweather, who had together with Percy arrested Snape those weeks ago had now been assigned to help guard the school. He had been placed to watch the Gryffindor common room whenever any students were there. Harry hadn't paid any attention to the man's presence before, but the self-sufficient smirk on the Auror's face managed to enforce his already existing dislike of the flabby man.
"C'mon, m' dear McGonagall. You're not really going to believe this crap 'bout You-know-who killing Snape? In the fight agains' the light side, that man is a way too importan' soldier for him. Snape knows Hogwarts an' all its weaknesses. The whole information is nothin' but a kid's dream." His words were slightly slurred, testimony of already too much alcohol in the Auror's system.
He leaned over to the professor and brought his hand up, shielding the side of his mouth, as if he intended to whisper, but in his drunken state he only spoke louder. "That's no reason to leave out a party, anyhow, he? A' long a' the reason is good enough for the kids, i's fine with me. If the ministry is dooming us to do a babysitter's job, then we can a'least expec' some fun from time to time. Whataya think? "
McGonagall grimaced degusted as the fire whisky-stinking breath of the man hit her face, but she didn't step back and only gifted the man with one of her coldest glares.
"You are a shame for any decent wizard and especially the honour of the respectable Auror-corps, Mayweather. You even encourage those children to rejoice in the death of another human being. What kind of person are you to take the death of a person, deatheater or not, as an occasion to throw a party? Even if it has only happened in a vision. This irreverence for a human life is the most abdominal thing that I have ever seen. Until now, I have never been forced to witness somebody able to do that." She paused and looked significantly over the crowd of students. "I congratulate you all. You just proved that you're able to think exactly like he-who-shall-not-be-named."
Those words hit deeply. Some of the Gryffindors winced, whilst some even gasped at the implication and nobody managed not to suddenly look very guilty and embarrassed. Only Mayweather still grinned unimpressed.
"You-know-who has never been bothered by somethin' like that. Why should we? I don't care as long as i's one of them who gets it."
McGonagall looked as if she could barely hold back from hexing the man into next week. "Get into your room and fast, Mayweather, or I swear, I will send an owl to the ministry and tell them that I found you drunk while you were supposed to guard the children."
The man paled at the threat and stared at McGonagall with open mouth, as if he would not be able to make his mind up if the professor only bluffed or not. When he came to the conclusion that she wasn't bluffing a bit, he hurried towards the adjoining rooms, which had been set up for him, and disappeared into it. But not without having grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey on the mantelpiece in the process.
"The same goes for you too. Go to your dormitories", the professor ordered her students. "I will send some house elves to erase this..." she seemed at a loss for words for a moment, as she glanced at the blankets, and her eyes became even colder, "this filth here. You have really deeply disappointed me, and if I ever see something like this again, or hear that you talk with joy about the death of a man who had even before you-know.who's first downfall risked his life to save others, then I will personally deduct so many house points that it'll make your head spin. Understand?"
Some of the students nodded and everybody turned around to mount towards their dormitories. Harry too, turned to return upstairs, when McGonagall's voice held him back.
"Mr. Potter, Mr.Weasley and Miss Granger. You stay here!"
Harry stopped and pressed himself against the wall to let through other boys, who were walking up to their dormitories, and throwing him, Hermione and Ron pitying glances. Harry already suspected what was to come. He had been the one who had told Ron about the vision, which his friend then had relayed to all the others. They would certainly get an earful about that. Hermione was also unlucky; she was their trusted friend and would therefore certainly not be spared the scolding. Harry was prepared to carry the responsibility of his acts and a scolding or detention seemed too little to appease his guiltiness, anyhow.
Only after the last of the other students had vanished to their dormitories did Harry and his friends step all the way down the stairs and walk reluctantly to their head of house.
"Come with me", McGonagall ordered, turning around and walking through the hole in the wall.
Outside, she waited for the three teenagers to follow her and watched the portrait of the fat lady close the entry, before she addressed them.
"I don't want to be overheard by your house mates, so we better talk out here."
"You are not aware of all the facts", Harry blurted out. "We have to tell the others the truth. Snape doesn't deserve this. You know, he hasn't really..."
"I know", the professor interrupted sharply. "The headmaster has told me everything and he asked me to tell you to keep all of it a secret for the moment."
"But why?" asked Ron.
"Yes, why? Snape deserves that they know the truth. Already I am guilty for his death. I don't want to be additionally guilty that the others are unaware of all he did for everybody. I don't want them to hate him just because of me." Harry's voice had, while he talked morphed into a desperate, urging quality and McGonagall's hard eyes softened and she looked at him with compassion.
"I am afraid, Mister Potter, that it was Professor Snape himself who took care of the latter. He just made it too simple for people to hate him. And the saddest thing about it is, that in Severus' eyes, it was his only means to protect himself." She looked very sad, all of a sudden.
"I am just glad that you know the truth at least and that you're honouring his memory. Unfortunately, the others can't know just yet. The Aurors would with all probability not believe your story anyhow, but there could be doubts. Doubts that may compromise Professor Dumbledore's influence. For over a year he's been in discourse with the ministry and has finally made Fudge acknowledge You-know-who's return, even if the minister is still in denial outwards. The continued presence of the Aurors here, however, proves that he doesn't really doubt anymore. And don't forget about Sirius, who can move relatively freely now, since everybody thinks that he's dead. He's an important weapon for our cause, which we can't lose right now. His Animagus form is widely known. You-know-who has certainly been told about that secret by Pettigrew.
Besides, the headmaster ensured that the Dementors are not the only guards anymore and that there are always human guards there too, but he wants those creatures out of the prison. With a little bit of luck, he will succeed soon."
Harry was well aware of the headmaster's thoughts on the Dementors and he too believed, that those creatures would cross over to Voldemort without any further thoughts. His vision of the McGregors proved that Voldemort already planed to get those monsters on his side. If that happened, it was certainly better if they didn't guard a bunch of deatheaters the moment they turned over to the other side.
"Promise me, that you won't say anything for the moment. I know, it's not fair towards professor Snape, but he would certainly not be happy if we now endangered everything for which he ultimately gave his life."
Harry could almost see Snape's disgusted sneer and hear that cutting voice of his. 'The famous Harry Potter just had to spoil everything once again. Not that it would overly surprise me. Ten points off Gryffindor."
Harry smiled fleetingly, at the thought. "We will hold tight, professor, if it's helping our cause."
Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement, their faces set tightly.
T.B.C.
Note from Lilith: Okay, Sorry, that there wasn't much happening in this chapter either but I don't see the three of them just letting the party go on, knowing the truth.