Chapter 47
Separate ways
The wand weighed tons in his hand. His words were fueled by the necessary anger to perform the Unforgivable Curse:
"Avada Kedavra!"
And in only a second, his mentor, his friend was there no more.
He could feel a turbulent sea of emotions surging from his chest. His Occlumency spurred into action, carefully barricading each wave of sentiment behind impenetrable walls. His well-trained, militant and disciplined mind protected him of the deep pain of causing Dumbledore's death.
But he almost shattered. He almost shattered when he saw her eyes. Bright, teary doe eyes.
"Severus…" —she had murmured.
At that moment he felt his mind split. His mouth spoke for itself, his gestures were cold and calculated. Snape the Death Eater had taken possession of the body, of the actions. But deep down, Severus, the man who had loved; who had been loved, felt that his soul had truly been torn apart by that infamous act, by betraying Laurel.
He couldn't help it. He felt an overwhelming desire to touch her one last time. He didn't know what came out of his mouth as he approached her. He knew it was dangerous, that her stoic mask could fall at any moment, but the urge to caress her hair, to feel its softness against his fingers was stronger than his sense.
His heart pounded, for a second, he felt his Occlumency crack. He felt his chest burn with helplessness. He looked into her eyes and a strong wave of remorse washed over him and only one thought filled his mind:
"I am beyond forgiveness".
He stepped away from her quickly, knowing he could not remain in her presence much longer. He swallowed hard, taking his control back.
His dark cloak billowed behind him as he walked determinedly through the entrance doors followed by the other Death Eaters. They crossed the gardens. Ancient trees surrounded them with their shadows as they walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A few steps separated them from Hagrid's hut. Just a little over a mile and they would be crossing the gate into Hogsmeade.
—SNAPE!
Snape could recognize Harry Potter's voice. He saw him run towards them. The Death Eaters stopped. Bellatrix shouted mockingly. An explosion. Flames.
The young man raised his wand at him, in a vain attempt to attack him. One after another, Snape blocked his spells.
"Fight back!" —Harry yelled at him. — "You, coward, fight back!"
Deep rage stung his efforts to keep his Occlumency intact. That brat dared to call him a coward after having sacrificed everything to protect him.
"Did you call me a coward, Potter?" —He screeched. —Your father never attacked me unless it was four against one. What would you call him?"
"Stupe…!"
"Intercepted again, and again, and again, until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind open, Potter!" —Snape sneered, and deflected the curse again.
He turned to the Death Eaters, who were laughing, watching Hagrid's attempts to put out the fire that was consuming their home.
"Let's go!" —He yelled at them, turning his back on Harry. —"We have to get out of here before the ministry arrives..."
"Impe…!"
But before Harry could finish the spell, he felt an excruciating pain that made him fall to his knees on the grass. He screamed, sure that the pain would kill him. Snape was going to torture him to death or madness...
"No! — Snape bellowed, and the pain disappeared as quickly as it had started; Harry lay curled up in the grass, clutching his wand and panting.
"Damn it, Bellatrix, have you forgotten the orders you were given? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord! We are to leave him! Go! Leave!
The group ran away laughing, leaving Snape behind. Harry stood up trembling, pointing at him with piled up rage. He no longer cared about dying.
"SECTUMSEMPRA!"
The Death Eater swung his wand, blocking the attack again and throwing Harry into the air, causing him to drop his wand. Instead of following his accomplices, Snape took a few steps towards the young man. The flames were reflected in his rage contorted face. His lips no longer showed any mocking gesture.
"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter?" I invented them! I am the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I won't allow it! No!"
Harry lunged to retrieve the wand, but Snape cast a hex at it and the wand flew away into the darkness.
"Then kill me," —panted Harry; He didn't feel fear, only wrath and contempt. —"Kill me like you killed him, you fucking coward..."
Snape lost control of his emotions; he could almost hear how his mighty mind walls fractured at those words. He raised his wand hatefully, glaring at the boy.
"Don't call me a coward!" — Snape bellowed, and his face took on a demented, inhuman expression, as if he were suffering a pain more inconceivable than a Crucio.
Those emerald eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. That was Lily's son...
Strangely, Severus' memory did not go to his childhood sweetheart, but instead flew back to what happened in the Great Hall, upon Laurel's crying face.
He had sacrificed her.
He looked at the castle for a millisecond. He then turned on his heels, leaving the boy abandoned on the grass and ran like hell towards Hogsmeade.
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He buried himself, no longer feeling a thing. Drifting in darkness, in blessed emptiness. Occlumency did its work.
He could not remember how much time had passed until he found himself in front of his master.
Voldemort's hideous snake-like features were contorted into a triumphant grimace, presiding over the somber assembly.
The pale light of a few candles flickered on the faces of the Death Eaters, who watched with a mixture of fascination and envy as The Dark Lord, wrapped in a billowing robe, smiled at Snape and extended a hand towards him.
"Severus," — he hissed, his words slithering through the air like a venomous snake. — "You have proven your loyalty and cunning. Your actions have led to the demise of our most formidable adversary. For this, you shall be rewarded."
"I am only a servant." —Snape knelt and kissed his pale hand.
"A very good one, indeed. One that shall be elevated, that shall sit to my right-hand side, and one whose voice should command the other ones".
Voldemort sighed gloatingly, motioning for Snape to stand and looked towards the fake-smiling Death Eaters, beckoning Narcissa Malfoy forward, her sleek blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She approached Snape with measured steps, her movements a delicate dance of deference. Kneeling before him, Narcissa pressed her lips to the hem of Snape's robes.
"Severus Snape," —she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. —"for your unwavering loyalty and the fulfillment of the task Draco could not bear, I present to you a token of the Malfoy family's gratitude."
With elegant poise, Narcissa presented a lacquered box adorned with the intricate Malfoy crest insignia. Snape accepted the box, his expression unreadable beneath the curtain of dark hair. As he opened it, the dim light caught the glint of precious gems and family heirlooms, testament to the Malfoy legacy.
"I know you must be feeling bitter for the loss of your little toy". —Voldemort whispered in Snape's ear, his crimson eyes shining with malice. — "I am sure, Narcissa would be willing to do anything you ask of her".
Narcissa's heart skipped a beat as she processed the weight of Voldemort's words. To be offered as a reward, to be handed over like a prized possession, sent shivers down her spine. She snapped her head up, her eyes trying to catch Severus'. He was not looking at her, though. He was staring at the back of the dark room, where a thin figure was squatting against the wall, his blonde head down, hiding a silent wail.
"I wish for Lady Malfoy to tend to her son". —Severus bowed to the Dark Lord. — "I seek no other recognition or prize than your victory, my lord".
Voldemort let out an amused snort and turned his back to him.
"Dumbledore is dead!" —He exclaimed, rising his arms in triumph —"Tonight, we celebrate not only the demise of Albus Dumbledore but the dawn of a new era!"
The Death Eaters erupted into cheers and applause, their voices mingling with the sound of clinking goblets and grotesque laughter. In the midst of the chaos, Narcissa stood up and walked silently to Draco but before they left the room, she stared at Severus who nod, encouraging her to leave.
He remained next to his master for the rest of the night.
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Several days passed before Laurel saw sunlight again.
She sat still on the wet steps leading to the boathouse. Her eyes, staring at the lake down below, had a dry glitter and looked irritated, as though she suffered from a shortage of tears.
That day, when she finally left the darkness of the dungeons, she spent hours looking at the funeral preparations, looking how the staff placed numerous golden chairs and a huge table by the lake. She counted the mourners who were slowly arriving and sitting down, all facing at the marble table in front of them.
She didn't dare to get close, afraid of the surreptitious looks, afraid of the whispers, of the hate. She was a pariah, and she knew she deserved it.
Time passed; the chairs filled up; the water of the lake splashed and at least a dozen mermaids emerged from the depth, their voices singing a melody that left her broken soul in disrepair.
Laurel let out a sigh as she noticed how Hagrid walked slowly up the aisle between the chairs, carrying Albus Dumbledore's body wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars. He placed the body on the table, and she was unable to look no more.
She covered with the hood of her robe, burying her face in her arms.
Then she heard that known song.
She lifted her puffy face up to the skies and saw Fawkes circling the lake, singing the phoenix song from afar, slowly getting lost in the immense red of the sunset.
Laurel dared to look down again and in place of the table where Dumbledore's body lied there was a marble white tomb.
The Akardos remained in that same place until darkness took over and the light of the moon bathed Dumbledore's tomb with its ethereal glow. She could have stayed there the whole night.
"I've been looking for you".
It was Remus who approached her with restless steps.
"Laurel" —he scratched his neck nervously when the woman didn't respond. —"We are worried about you".
The woman stood up slowly, her body aching.
"I am sorry, Remus. I don't want to cause more trouble".
"No, that is not what I mean…"
"I think I must return home".
"What? No… It might be dangerous… Snape can…"
Laurel lowered her head upon hearing that name and Remus apologised quickly.
"I am sorry. I know it hurts you, but I think you shouldn't leave the protection of the Order. I have spoken to Minerva, she will allow you to remain in Hogwarts. I think that would be the best".
Laurel looked up at the wizard again, looking at his tired face illuminated by the moonlight.
"How is Bill?"
"He has already regained consciousness"—Remus sighed and dropped his shoulders, dejected. "We are not very sure what will happen to him. Greyback was not transformed when he attacked him."
"He will be OK. When Greyback bit me..."
"It's not the same, Laurel. His wounds have not healed as quickly as yours. Without the protection that Akardos blood confers, he will likely be scarred forever."
Laurel bit her lip, feeling incredibly guilty.
"If it hadn't been for him, I would probably be dead by now" —she said in a fragile voice. —"Greyback was after me, it was my fault..."
"No, no... Shh..." —Remus hugged her tightly. —"Bill is alive, he has his family and from the looks of it he very soon will marry a girl who doesn't care about his scars. Everything will be fine, you'll see..."
Laurel calmed little by little in Remus's arms, her eyes fixed on the silver crescent moon.
"Tonks doesn't care about your scars either, Remus," —she murmured softly.
"No, that's why..." —The wizard laughed nervously, while searching for something in his jacket pocket. —"That's why I was thinking of giving her this".
With trembling hands, he took out a handkerchief where a golden ring with a simple pink stone was wrapped.
—Do you think she will say yes?
Laurel looked at the ring and then at Remus and smiled for the first time in days.
—She will be delighted.
Remus laughed again and wrapped the ring delicately, carefully putting it back into his pocket.
"I think that if there is a time to be brave, it should be now." —he said, turning his eyes toward Dumbledore's grave. —"Life is fleeting, Laurel and after seeing how Bill was attacked… after seeing how her fiancée stayed by her side, cleaning his wounds even though he could turn into a monster every month…"
Laurel sighed deeply, the smell of wet earth and seaweed filled her lungs and with the firmest voice she could utter at that moment, she said:
"I won't abandon you, Remus. I will continue working on the cure. But not here... I don't want to set foot at Hogwarts again."
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Severus took another swig from the bottle of fire whiskey and staggered through the hallways of 12 Grimmauld Place.
He had a mission: to find any clue that Dumbledore could had left him, some information that would allow him to move forward with the confusing plan that the headmaster expected him to follow. However, the most important reason why he had gone to that disastrous and gloomy house was to drown his sorrows in a place where he could be completely alone.
He raised the bottle to his lips again and was surprised to find it empty. He angrily threw it against the floor, shattering it and waking up the portrait of Walburga Black who began shrieking from the floor below.
Shouting insults at the portrait, he continued up the steps, rummaging through each room, searching, keeping his drunk head occupied.
He finally reached the top floor and opened the first door he found.
He was a little surprised to see that this room was tidy and much more livable than the rest of the house. He knew immediately who this room belonged to when he saw the huge Gryffindor banner hanging at the head of the bed.
Severus hesitated for a moment but decided to enter. His tired eyes scanned the room, the posters of motorcycles and girls in bikinis made him snort disdainfully and he knew that this being Sirius Black's room, it wouldn't take him long to find more liquor to anesthetize his pain.
He rummaged through the wardrobe and the chest of drawers. He threw clothes, went through books, boxes and scrolls, rummaged through his desk and was about to give up until he checked the nightstand and his body paralyzed.
He could recognize the handwriting instantly.
Dear Padfoot:
Severus ran his eyes over the letter again and again, holding it delicately in his fingers.
Lots of love,
Lily
He then noticed the photograph that was next to the letter.
There she was, smiling.
He didn't know at what moment he started crying. His body trembled with the utter and definitive realization: He was a murderer. He had destroyed the life of people closest to him, people that cared for him. He was truly a monster.
For the rest of his life, he would remember that vivid flash of his wand and the echo of his own voice in the air, and the sad and resigned eyes of the man he had considered his closest friend. He could still see his flowing robes and long hairs floating in the air, like a broken puppet.
He felt dizzy, disgusted at his own skin. He wished for the pain to end once and for all.
He closed his eyes and remembered that strange dream he had so many months ago. In front of him was a tearful Laurel who screamed at him:
"Murderer!"
He fell face down into the dusty and musty mattress, drowning in moans of agony. He felt, in the midst of the darkness that he was the one falling down from the astronomy tower into the bottomless pit. In a last flash of consciousness, he realised that at the end of that endless fall, death was awaiting for him.
