Chapter 7: Obliviate

Harry lay on his side on the cold floor of the cell. His brain felt fuzzy and for some reason, his eyes refused to focus. His entire body felt numb, which was a blessed relief after the excruciating pain he had felt just minutes ago.

To say his father was mad would be an understatement; Harry was not sure he had ever seen the man more enraged in his entire life. All of the anger and frustration that Voldemort had felt was directed straight at Harry, who had no choice but to lie on the ground and take it. Never in his whole life had Harry ever experienced such pain from the connection he had to his father. The blinding pain had built up to such an extreme level that Harry had worried his head was going to split open from the pressure. If his father had chosen to cast the cruciatus on him in that moment he wasn't sure if he would have been able to register it.

After several long minutes, something seemed to have distracted Voldemort. Whether it was Frank or something else, Harry would never know and, frankly, he didn't care to know. All he knew was that the pain in his skull had finally dimmed to a manageable level. He had stayed there, in the same position he had fallen, as he tried to untangle his thoughts and regain his senses. It almost felt like the aftereffects of the cruciatus, except somehow worse.

Harry blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his vision. He was starting to hear the murmuring of voices coming from somewhere behind him, but he couldn't yet make out the words or who was speaking. It felt as if his head was underwater. With another couple of quick brushes with his eyelids, Harry's sight finally became clear, but suddenly he wished it hadn't.

There, on the ground next to him was the body of Frank Longbottom. The man's face was turned toward Harry, his vacant eyes staring at him. Frank's chest and face had been ripped open by some dark spell and the large pool of blood was enough to make Harry ill. The young wizard quickly slammed his eyes shut again trying to block out the nightmarish sight. This was not the work of the draught. Voldemort had killed the man sometime after Harry had fallen to the floor. Part of him wondered if perhaps Frank had seen him in pain and had tried to stop the dark wizard somehow. But Harry doubted that. There was no way that the dead man would have tried to protect Harry when he had been the one who had tried to kill Frank in the first place.

As Harry lay on the ground, trying to calm his nausea, his ears began to finally begin to pick up the conversation going on behind him.

"I will dispose of the body, my lord," Lucius's sharp voice cut into Harry's skull like a knife, giving him a headache, "But what will you do with the boy?"

There was the sound of boots on stone. Voldemort. Harry could recognize those footsteps anywhere. He kept his eyes closed and resided the urge to flinch as his father's voice hissed from somewhere above him.

"Seeing as I no longer have Severus to deal with him, I'll just have to do it myself. However, it will provide me with the opportunity to understand how he managed to fool two potion masters into thinking the draught was legitimate."

"And what if it was nothing of his doing? Given Harry's track record with potions, I hardly think it likely that he would have the skill to purposefully pull off such a stunt."

There was a pause before Harry felt the hard sole of his father's boot come to rest on his head, pressing it into the unforgiving stone.

"Perhaps it was just an error on his part," Voldemort continued, "Or perhaps not. But I will find out, that you can be sure of."

The last bit seemed to be directed at Harry, who groaned softly as the pressure from his father's boot disappeared. Voldemort's footsteps seemed to retreat slowly.

"Get rid of the body, Lucius, and make sure that you have Bella take the boy back to his chambers. I have another, more pressing, matter to deal with before I talk to Harry."

The door to the cell was thrown open and a cold draft blew in, causing a shiver to run down Harry's spine. He knew his father had just left, but he didn't dare open his eyes to check. He didn't know if he could stand to look at Frank's mangled body again. In some ways, he wished that the potion had worked because then, at least, the man's death would not have had to be so, well, bloody.

Soft boots padded over to where Harry lay and a second later a warm hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him over gently. Harry pried his eyes open and found himself looking directly into Lucius's worried face. The death eater reached into his robes and withdrew a familiar bottle. Pain reliever. Before he could stop himself, Harry thrust his hand forward and grabbed the small flask from the man's hand, downing the potion in one go. The pounding in his head dulled instantly.

With a sigh of relief, Harry let his eyes fall shut again, fatigue now worming its way through his body. Somewhere above him, Lucius let out a deep sigh and said sadly,

"What have you done, Harry? What in Merlin's name have you done?"

It had been the end to a remarkably quiet evening for Severus Snape when he had received word from Dumbledore that Frank Longbottom had gone missing. The headmaster had insisted that there was nothing, as of yet, to insinuate that death eaters were, in any way, involved.

But Severus didn't need evidence…he already had a feeling he knew what'd happened.

Since the start of the year, Voldemort had had one goal on his mind: to wipe out any and all members of the Order of the Phoenix. The wizard had been tricked, beaten, and humiliated far too many times by the likes of James Potter, Frank, Longbottom, Sirius Black, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. On more than one occasion the dark lord had expressed the idea that Albus had managed to get one of his own death eaters to join the order. The powerful wizard seemed to know his plans too frequently for it to be a coincidence. This notion had sparked something dangerous and deadly in Voldemort in the past few weeks. The man had become more erratic, less predictable, and far more volatile.

The death eaters sent out to kill Moody had been a seemingly spontaneous and poorly thought-through plan on Voldemort's part. For Merlin's sake, the psychotic wizard had even sent his own adopted heir out into the midst of it all. If anything, the failure in the mission rested solely on Voldemort's hands…but no one was brave enough, or rather foolish enough, to tell their dark lord that. Instead, the blame seemed to have fallen completely onto Harry's young shoulders.

In the week that had followed that mission, Severus had done his best to keep his distance from the manor. He had been coming up with excuses every time he had been called on. He had even postponed his scheduled occlumency lessons with Harry, saying that he had far too many responsibilities at Hogwarts that he needed to attend to…and everyone seemed to believe it. They seemed to have been under the impression that Dumbledore was running him past the point of exhaustion this term. No one argued with him about it either. After all, Voldemort valued Severus's position of authority in the school and would do seemingly anything to ensure his death eater kept that role.

For Severus's part, he had been battling extreme guilt. He had known for weeks now, that the dark lord was planning something against the order. He had told Dumbledore as much, but both had assumed, or rather hoped, that the attack on Moody had been the last of it. Severus simply felt too helpless and useless when he sat in the meeting and listened to Voldemort's plans for death and destruction. What made it all worse was the knowledge that he could not do a thing to stop an attack or raid from taking place, only warn Dumbledore. After years of this, he was simply tired.

Tired of being a death eater, tired of being a spy for Dumbledore, tired of the secrets he was being forced to keep…tired of being used by everyone around him. All he had wanted was a break from the chaos of it all…a small respite, a bit of peace.

But look where that had gotten him.

Severus had absolutely no doubt in his mind that Voldemort had been behind Longbottom's disappearance. The dark lord was the only one who would see the value in abducting the low-level auror. He was, after all, the weakest auror out of those in the order, and, therefore, the most vulnerable. Severus couldn't help but feel slightly ill at the thought of how much Longbottom would be able to reveal to Voldemort should the dark wizard use his legilimency skills. Ever since Dumbledore had told him of Longbottom's vanishing, Severus had been pacing around his chambers dreading the summons the dark lord he knew would soon follow. All he was able to do was hope that Longbottom's occlumency shields were better than his dueling skills.

It had been just after seven thirty in the evening when the summons had, at long last, come. The sudden burning in Severus's arm had made him stagger slightly at the sheer intensity of it. He had quickly taken a pain reliever and sent off a note to the headmaster. Then he had donned his black robes and checked to make sure his door was secure. As he went through these motions, part of him screamed that this was to be the last time he would ever set foot in Hogwarts. Severus grabbed a handful of floo powder from his mantle and stepped into his fireplace. He took a deep break and forced his frantic thoughts into the deepest places of his mind. In an instant, his occlumency shields slammed into place, locking everything away where only Severus could reach it. His face relaxed into its usual emotionless mask and his eyes hardened. He knew that Voldemort was waiting for him and he had waited far too long as it was. It was time to face whatever his lord had in store for him.

In a flash of green fire, Severus Snape disappeared from Hogwarts.

A minute later the stoic figure of the potion master gracefully stepped out of the fireplace and into Voldemort's private chambers, a place he was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

"You summoned me, my lord."

Voldemort didn't even bother to look at Severus but continued to stare out into the blackness that lay beyond the large window. Severus noted that the man seemed to be already angry about something.

"Indeed, Severus. I require your assistance as this lies within your particular realm of expertise."

"My lord?" Severus could not hide the look of confusion that flashed across his face. He was not the only potion master who existed in Voldemort's inner circle.

"The bottle on the desk," the dark wizard continued, seeming to ignore Severus's confusion, "It is a potion that I intended to use tonight. I want you to look over it and make sure that it is properly and correctly brewed."

Still slightly confused, Severus made his way across the room and took hold of the small glass bottle. The liquid inside shimmered faintly as he held it up to begin his inspection. This was a task he had never been called upon to do for the dark lord. Usually, Voldemort would summon the likes of Rabastan to brew all the potions he required. Unlike him, Rabastan was an expert in dark potions and could supply his master's needs more adequately than Severus.

Severus gently uncorked the bottle and held it up to his nose, trying to decipher what potion this might be. The thick scent of tree sap mixed with mint and soot flooded his senses. But there was something else behind the pleasant aroma. Something sour and rotten…something evil. Severus pulled his face away from the potion, the navy liquid looking decidedly less inviting than it had before. This was a work of dark magic.

"Something the matter?"

Voldemort was now gazing at him, his expression unreadable. Severus quickly replaced the top of the bottle, covering the sickening smell.

"That is a dark potion, my lord," he said, "I know not which one exactly. A poison perhaps. If you would permit me to take it back to my labs then I could examine it further and tell you exactly what you are in possession of. Or perhaps Rabastan would be able to identify it for you. Dark potions are, after all, his specialty."

Severus watched in surprise as the dark lord's face pulled into an ugly smirk.

"I am disappointed in you, Severus. You see, Harry himself was the one who brewed this draught and, at the time, Rabastan seemed quite proud that the boy managed to produce anything," Severus stiffened visibly as the dark lord continued, "But I am, perhaps, even more disappointed that you were unable to recognize one of my very own inventions."

Realization hit Severus in an instant. He looked down at the small bottle and breathed, "The draught of darkness."

"That's it," Voldemort's smirk was replaced with a look of anger, "Or at least what it is meant to be."

"But what do you plan to do with it, my lord?" Severus asked, not hearing the last portion of what Voldemort had said. He already had a horrible feeling about what the dark wizard was implying, but he needed to know for certain.

"Ah, now you are asking some interesting questions. You see I called you here tonight, not to check the potion, but rather so that you can deliver news to that fool Dumbledore."

Severus felt his face go pale.

"You see a few days ago I happened upon a close friend of his. A one Frank Longbottom. And well, let's just say that he's usefulness to me was quickly extinguished. As luck would have it, Harry was able to provide me with a solution for the occasion. The pathetic excuse of a man had now, after some attempts, shall we say, been disposed of. I figured that this news would come as a nasty shock to Dumbledore and I could think of no better person to deliver him the news than yourself."

Severus's hand that held the bottle began to shake slightly, "But, my lord, if I return to the school and deliver this news directly to Dumbledore then the man will know that I am a death eater. I shall be immediately sent to Azkaban. Surely, there is a better way to go about this."

The imposing figure of the dark lord seemed to radiate anger at this point, even as a sly smile played on his features. Instantly, Severus felt the dark mark on his right forearm erupt into agonizing pain. He gasped and sank to the floor, clutching the limb tightly as invisible flames licked at his skin. When Severus looked back up, he saw Voldemort standing before him, a grim smile plastered across his face.

"Indeed there are much better ways of going about it, Severus. But, I have a feeling that your precious Dumbledore will not allow the aurors to take you away to Azkaban."

"My lord, what are you saying?" Severus managed to choke out.

"I am not your lord," Voldemort hissed kneeling down and grabbing the hair on the back of Severus's skull, "And I don't think that I have been for quite some time. I have been growing suspicious of you throughout the past few months, but I didn't have any proof…not until a certain Frank Longbottom was able to provide me with it. You were foolish to think that the man's weak mind would be enough to protect your true motives."

Severus felt his blood run cold.

"I had such faith in you too, Severus," Voldemort continued, "But you betrayed me and that is unforgivable. I was blinded by your usefulness to me but I should not have expected anything different from the likes of a half-blood."

Long fingernails dug harshly into the back of Severus's head, "Yet, I am a merciful man. I am going to let you go free…for the time being. I have no doubt that whatever I have not already placed under the Fidelius charm has already been divulged to him which is why I shall also spare you your memory. But have no doubt that you can never be free of me. No matter how hard you try, you will always be connected to me, and that, I feel, is enough torment for you at the moment."

Voldemort withdrew his hand allowing Severus's head to fall forward. The dark wizard rose gracefully to his feet before he reached down and flicked his wand sending Severus skidding across the room and into the fireplace.

Severus managed to stagger to his feet as his former master strode over toward him, a crazed look on his face.

He's going to kill me, Severus thought frantically.

But instead of firing the killing curse, Voldemort simply reached out and tossed a handful of green powder into the fireplace.

"Leave while I still have the mind to let you live," the evil wizard spat out before he turned on his heel and walked back over to his desk, "And just remember that the next time I see you, Severus Snape, I will kill you. Of that, you can be certain of."

The next moment, Severus was being deposited onto the floor of his chambers where he collapsed into a quivering heap. The man stayed there for several minutes, his mind still trying to wrap itself around what had just taken place. He did not understand why Voldemort had let him live. He did not understand why Voldemort had not wiped his memory. Severus's mind was in chaos. All he really knew was that he needed to tell Dumbledore about Longbottom as quickly as possible.

Severus scrambled to his feet only to see the small bottle of potion fall from the fabric of robes and hit the floor. The fragile glass shattered on impact, sending droplets of navy liquid scattering everywhere. The potion master jumped back as a bit of it splashed onto his face. He pulled out his wand instantly to siphon the draught away before it could cause him harm but stopped short. The liquid was not burning him as he had expected. On the contrary, he felt a slight cooling sensation where the droplet sat; it was rather refreshing.

Severus shook his head and quickly banished the potion from his skin. He needed to focus on one thing at a time. First, he needed to see Dumbledore.

He strode towards the entrance to this chamber and quickly undid the charm he had put in place just a few minutes prior. Before he could do anything else, there was a knock on the other side of the door. Praying desperately that it was Dumbledore, Severus flung the door open quickly only to watch as Peter Pettigrew stumbled inside. The small man quickly righted himself, a blush rushing across his face.

If the Pettigrew had arrived in such a fashion at any other time, Severus might have mocked the groundskeeper for it. But as it was, he could think of nothing else except Voldemort. For Merlin's sake, an order member was dead.

"Wh-what is it?" Peter had obviously noticed that something was seriously wrong.

"Frank Longbottom's just been killed by the dark lord."

Severus watched, as Peter's mouth opened and closed, no sound coming forth.

"Wh-what? H-h-how? Wh-when?" the man finally managed to stutter.

"Just now," Severus brushed past Peter, "Come, we need to see Dumbledore immediately."