Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 6

The morning after Harry's rescue attempt, the students, now five with the recent addition of Neville, gathered around the kitchen table for breakfast. Harry eyed the urn of coffee that Mrs. Weasley refused to serve him while the other four went on excitedly about the previous day's adventure. He had not slept well at all. Voldemort was angrier than usual, and while Harry's growing proficiency as an Occlumense protected him from getting caught up in that anger, the spillover had caused him a full night of nightmares and fitful sleep. Across the table, Ron was boasting in Neville's place to Remus, explaining how the little town had jumped to Longbottom's defense.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Remus said. "I had no idea your grandmother didn't tell you what your parents had done. We'll fix that, though, I promise. Your parents left a legacy you should be proud of. Just about every member of the Order owes their life to your parents in one way or another, and I'm ashamed that you have to learn that now, after so many years."

Neville kept his head down and focused on his eggs. "Thank you, sir. I'd like very much to know more about my parents."

Remus was fully healed now, so stories would have to wait until he returned from whatever business he was being sent on this time. Harry smiled to himself, happy for Neville. He had spent eleven years not knowing how or why his parents had died, but they was so famous that once he was at Hogwarts, it seemed the entire Wizarding world was eager to share stories with Harry. It was terrible that Neville had grown up in that world with no one taking the time to do the same for him.

To Harry's left, cutting her toast into symmetrical bite-sized pieces, Hermione was speculating on how the Death Eaters had found them with Neville and how Avery had summoned so many of his fellow dark wizards in so short a time. No one was really listening to her, though Mrs. Weasley made the occasional noise of agreement, mostly out of politeness, as she was absorbed in seeing that all the housework was being done and checking Ginny's letter to Dean periodically to make sure it didn't contain anything inappropriate.

"Ginny! You can't say that to a boy! Remove that immediately." Ginny scrunched up her nose and erased the offending lines with a quick spell. "You can't tell him that either. What if the letter gets intercepted?"

"But Mom, he wants to know where I am."

"Tell him you're on vacation, then, visiting Bill or something. Bill can forward any letters along. Honestly, you should know better than to talk about what's happening here."

Absorbed as the others were, only Harry noticed Tonks slip into the room and help herself to some toast. She sat down next to Harry with a smile and summoned a cup of coffee to her. Harry returned the smile and was about to ask the young Auror about Snape's latest Death Eater meeting but was interrupted.

"How do you kids do it?" Tonks asked.

"Uhm, do what?"

"This." She waved her toast at Harry's friends. "Yesterday, if I've heard right, those three," she said as crumbs flew in the direction of Hermione, Ron and Neville, "were cornered by roughly a dozen Death Eaters." The toast tipped towards Ginny, spilling some jam on the table. "She was knocked about by another, and you, and Severus saved the bunch of them." Harry dodged some jam at the last part. "Following that, you were pulled into the mind of the most twisted being on the planet. And here you all are chatting about it like it was a Quidditch match." She shook her head. "How do you guys manage to be so normal about it all?"

Harry looked around at his friends. How screwed up does your life need to be that an Auror of all people asks you how you handle it? "Normal's whatever your used to, I guess."

"Merlin, Harry." She stared at his scar and he turned his head. He hated when people did that, and one of the things he liked so much about Tonks was that she had never done it before. "What kind of life did he leave you?"

"There were only seven Death Eaters at the cabin."

"What?"

"You said a dozen Death Eaters. There were only seven. Eight, including the one that Snape. . ." So much for trying to make light of Tonks's question.

"He had no choice, Harry." Tonks looked carefully at Harry. "Look Harry, I'm not exactly a big fan of his either, and we probably all second guess his actions way more than we need to, but he had no choice. She saw him. If she'd lived, she'd tell. He couldn't risk a spell powerful enough to erase her memory completely. There's no way the other Eaters wouldn't have sensed it, and You-Know-Who would have blasted right through a memory blocking spell in no time. And killing her with a knife means no magical signature to trace back. He had no choice."

"I know that." He did. That made it worse.

The conversation was cut short when an owl suddenly appeared in the kitchen. "How in the world did that get in here?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Stand back, everyone." Tonks, always on guard, drew her wand and coaxed the animal to land on the counter. "Anyone expecting mail?" The young auror looked ready to blast the owl if it so much as hooted without permission.

"Uhm, I don't think you need to worry about it. I do, maybe." Neville said. He was staring at the owl in a bit of a panic. Hermione giggled and Ron and Harry let out raucous laughs. They recognized the owl, and the fierce red letter it held was unmistakable.

"It's a howler from Mrs. Longbottom." Ginny decided to give her mother and Tonks a break. "Everyone at Hogwarts knows that owl. We all have to cover our ears when it shows up during lunch.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said. She patted Neville's arm with a wince. I just owled your grandmother, Neville, and explained a little bit of what happened. Neville nodded but didn't take his eyes off the package waiting to explode. Gathering his nerve, the boy reached over and retrieved the letter. It shook in his hand, gave him a paper cut, and flew straight at Mrs. Weasley.

"It's for you!"

Harry didn't think Neville's eyes could have grown wider, but the surprise at finding who was the target of his grandmother's wrath quickly replaced his fear.

"Well." Mrs. Weasley clutched the letter in two hands. "I should probably. . . open this. . . elsewhere."

The students burst into laughter as Ron's mother nearly ran from the room. When Mrs. Longbottom's voice echoed down the stairs, Ron had to wipe the tears from his eyes. Most of it was too muffled or too incoherent to make out, but no one needed the details to enjoy it thoroughly.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen. Her hair had fallen out of its bun, and her robes were wrinkled and twisted about her. Harry wondered if she'd taken notes and hoped, for his best friend's sake, that she hadn't. And if he knew his best friend as well as he did, Harry was sure Ron was at that moment trying to control himself. By the expression on his face, Harry could see that Ron's better sense was losing. Luckily, Ron never had a chance to say whatever it was that was trying to get out.

Snape swept into the kitchen with his usual stride. "Molly, is Albus in?"

"Oh, Severus, you're back." She straightened her robes at Snape's glance. "Yes, he's upstairs." She watched the students finishing up breakfast. "Perhaps we should join him." Hermione's eyes narrowed and Harry could practically hear her plotting the best way to eavesdrop. She was saved the trouble of a plan, though.

"There is no need for that yet. I want everyone to hear this." His gaze swept over the group, causing a chill that only he could manage. With a whispered spell, Snape let Dumbledore know he was needed.

In moments, they were joined by the Headmaster, as well as Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall and Hestia Jones. Harry had not realized the latter four were even in the house, but with so many people coming and going, he had given up trying to keep track.

"What do you think's going on?" Hermione asked him in a whisper. Harry simply shrugged; they'd find out soon enough. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's disinterest and turned to ask Ron the same thing.

Once everyone had settled themselves, Snape stood; his dark presence quieted everyone without a word. "The Dark Lord's plans have changed." As Snape was the Order's highest placed operative, it was not real shock to those gathered that he would have heard this. It was a shock, to Professor McGonagall at least, that he would discuss it in front of Harry and his friend, and she said as much. "They need to hear this Minerva, if for no other reason than to make sure they understand the grave danger they are all in. Potter's little clan has proven incapable of forethought and common sense thus far. That is going to get them killed very shortly." Under Snape's eye, the five teens squirmed and shifted in their seats. "Between what occurred in Department of Mysteries and the rather embarrassing defeat of eight Death Eaters yesterday, Mr. Potter's friend are now nearly as wanted as Potter himself."

"For what?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "They're just children."

"Revenge," Snape said. "And bait. It was not lost on the Dark Lord that it was Harry who arrived to help those three."

"This is your fault, Severus." McGonagall stepped forward. Her face was red and her lips pursed. Harry had never seen so visibly upset. "If you hadn't allowed the boy to put himself in danger. To use him as bait-"

"He didn't use me. I volunteered," Harry said.

"Please, Mr. Potter, you do not understand the gravity of this."

Harry laughed, a single, short burst of sound without a hint of humor. "I don't understand, Professor? When I close my eyes, I see his victims dying in front of me. I've felt how he enjoys their pain. I've felt his pleasure at people's suffering and the anger and hatred that's so strong, it consumes everything else. Can anyone else here say they understand Voldemort as well as I do? Some of you have fought him and his followers your whole lives. But do anyone of you know what his greatest disappointment is?" Harry's eyes held no emotion as he looked around the room. "It's not me, actually. He probably hates me more than anyone else, except maybe my mother, but that's different. His greatest disappointment is the weakness of the human body. Not his. He has all the Dark Arts to protect himself. It's the weakness of his victims he really regrets. They all die too soon."

Harry sat up straight in his chair and thought he could see a look of mourning in Snape's eyes. He went on. "Professor Snape didn't force me to do what I did. I knew that anyone else might be able to distract a few of the wizards, but not all of them. But there was no other choice. No one else knew where we were. There was no help coming, and even Professor Snape couldn't handle all of them at once. Someone would have recognized him and escaped, and he'd be dead, and maybe Ron, Hermione and Neville, too. He wouldn't want anything to do with any of them if they hadn't risked their lives for me. No one here can tell me I can't help my friends."

Hermione hugged Harry. "That's very sweet, Harry, but. . ." She swallowed hard.

Neville took up the thread of her sentence. "You're more important than us, Harry. As long as you're alive, everyone thinks there's a chance. If he kills us, it's just a few more dead kids. If he kills you, then he's finally managed to kill The-Boy-Who-Lived, and what hope does anyone else have, then?"

"They're right Harry," Ron said. "I mean, we don't mind the danger, because you're our friend, and we're going to be there for you. But you're more than that to so many people."

"Gryffindors," Snape said, "are so predictable. Haven't you heard a word Harry said? Haven't you paid attention at all the past two years?" The look of disgust on Snape's face was far beyond anything they'd seen before. "If any of you are captured, Harry will experience every moment of your torture and death. His Occlumency is progressing, but the connection will be too strong to fight." Ron grew pale; even his freckles disappeared into the pallor of his skin. Hermione barely stifled a shriek and had tears in her eyes as she stared at Harry.

"Oh, Harry, I never thought of that. Oh, I'm so sorry." Hermione said and hugged the boy again. Ron refused to even look at Harry.

"Mr. Neville must stay here for the time being," Snape said. "And all of you must stop. Running. Off." No one responded. Harry suspected that none of his friends had considered what their capture would do to him. Snape had, though, which didn't quite surprise him. A week ago, he would have been sure that Snape's dramatic speech would have been done just for the pleasure of scaring the Gryffindors and perhaps even as a selfish attempt to keep Harry safe until Voldemort was dead. But now, Harry was not so sure. Could Snape be trying to spare him more pain?

"Well, then, now that's settled," McGonagall said. She straightened her robes and looked to Snape. She'd dropped her previous argument, Harry noted. "Was that all, or do you want to terrify everyone a little more?"

Snape let the comment go by without remark. "That is not quite all. It has been made clear that Potter's capture is paramount. He is focusing all his energy, and the energy of all his followers, on that alone."

"That is unfortunate," Dumbledore said. Harry had been wondering when the Headmaster would speak up. "And when school starts next term?" The old wizard looked at Snape.

"If Mr. Potter is still alive by the end of the summer, I must deliver him myself. There will be no excuses tolerated."

"Even if he lost his ability to spy on Albus through you?" Hestia Jones asked.

Snape nodded. "If Fudge himself were an agent, the Dark Lord would have him reveal himself if it meant Potter's death."

"Well, then," Dumbledore said and reached for bit of toast that had gone cold on the table. "It seems we have some planning to do."

Mrs. Weasley asked, "We can excuse the students now, Severus?"

Snape nodded, but Harry's voice soft but firm, drifted to Dumbledore's ears. "More secrets?"

Dumbledore looked sharply at Harry, eyes softening. "We are all agreed that Mr. Longbottom will join us for the summer?" The adults in the room all nodded.

"Perhaps you should owl her about that, Albus," Mrs. Weasley said. Ron sniggered but managed to keep himself under control with the help of Hermione's elbow in his ribs. "That's fine, Molly." Dumbledore had that twinkle in his eye again, and Harry knew the Headmaster had heard the howler. "In that case, I see no harm in allowing the students to hear what we are planning. This does not mean you will allowed to attend all our meetings, but as this does affect you, I will make an exception." Above the objections, he said, "They can divulge nothing if they do not leave, and I hope that they now understand the importance of keeping themselves safe. For Harry's sake, if not their own.

Ron answered. "Yes sir, we'll stay here if we have to. We won't try to leave the house, I promise." Dumbledore nodded and the conversation turned to Snape's dilemma.

-----

For two hours, Harry and his friends listened quietly as the members of the Order discussed options for protecting Snape's position as double agent. When it was noted by Shacklebolt that it was likely Snape would have to go further into Voldemort's service, Hermione whispered to Harry, "Why doesn't he stay at Hogwarts? Better to lose a spy than have him get killed, right?"

"He'll die if Voldemort finds out he's a spy. He can kill Snape through the Mark. He doesn't need to be in contact with him." Hermione must not have sorted that out on her own, and she commented testily that Harry seemed bent on keeping secrets from them all. Harry chose not to reply. His had no idea what was going on between him and Snape lately, but he had no intention of making things worse by gossiping about the teacher.

Eventually, it became clear that no answers were going to be found that day, and the discussion turned to keeping the students safe. Harry took the opportunity to ask a question he had been fretting over since his friends' danger was first mentioned. "Headmaster? What about Luna? She was in the Department of Mysteries with us. Is Voldemort looking for her too?"

Dumbledore gave Harry a fond smile. "Your concern for your friends is admirable as always, Harry. Professor Snape would know the answer to that question better than I, but I can assure that either way, Miss Lovegood is quite safe. Her father anticipated some danger and has taken his own steps to see to his daughter's safety. I believe they are out of the country at present, and intend to stay far away from anything resembling civilization." Hermione smirked, and Harry recalled Luna's planned trip to Sweden. He let the subject drop. Finally, it was decided that there would always be a member of the Order, in addition to Snape whose choices were too limited in emergencies, in the house at all times. Harry was not happy with the result of the discussion, but he chose to keep his objections to himself. He knew his concerns would be ignored. He also worried that if he argued, Dumbledore would change his mind about being more open with him.

-----

Two days later, Harry was sprawled across the Ron's bed trying to gather up some interest in the game of wizard's chess Ron was playing against Neville. Neville, it turned out, was not half bad at the game. While he lost to Ron more often than not, he was a better challenge than Harry had ever proved to be. Harry started watching with the hopes of learning some new tricks, but boredom took over fast and his mind wandered, as it had often recently, to Professor Snape. Nothing had changed, which meant that for a few hours a day in the library, Snape seemed to actually tolerate his presence. Once the Pensieves were emptied, though, he was back to his nasty, hateful self. Harry was pretty sure he understood the change. He was going through the same thing, for the most part, and actually enjoyed the lessons while they were happening. He couldn't bring himself to actually like the bastard when he had all his memories back, though. Still, every time he started restoring his memories, it became harder and harder to deal with the sudden shift in attitude. Every day he had to reconcile the patient, sometimes funny, instructor from the library with the horrible wreck of a human being he knew the other twenty-two hours a day.

When Hermione and Ginny came into the room, head together and giggling about something, Harry decided to discuss his problem with his friends. Hermione had forgiven him for his harsh words days past. He suspected that a lot of that forgiveness had come from her guilt at not realizing on her own that Harry would certainly feel her death should she be caught by Voldemort. Saving her and getting her and the others access, though limited, to Order meetings certainly helped as well. At the very least, being a bit more in the loop meant fewer occasions to argue about spying.

Harry opened his mouth, then realized he had no idea how to go about getting advice for this. What exactly did he want advice about? It would be easiest if he could just hate Snape as much during the lessons as he did the rest of the time, but he knew the Potions Master would pick up on it if Harry left in some memories. Did he want Snape to like him? Bloody unlikely, that. Well, perhaps that was what he needed advice on. First decide what result he was going for, then worry about how to go about it.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked. Leave it to her to sense he needed her advice. She lived for this.

"Not wrong, exactly. I'm just thinking about Snape."

Hermione nodded. "Actually, I've been thinking about that, Harry. You know what I think?"

"Bet you'll tell us," Ron said. He gave Harry a grin; Hermione turned her nose up at the boy and kept talking.

"I think he's jealous that you got away from Voldemort and he didn't. That's why he hates you so much. And when he takes out the memory of who you are, he stops hating you."

"Or he hates you only as much as the rest of us," Ginny said.

Harry shook his head. "Not exactly. He called me The Boy Who Lived the other day, and he knew the Death Eaters would be after me more than anyone else when we were planning how to get you out. You're sort of right, though. There's a pretty specific reason why he treats me the way he does, and when he forgets that, he starts acting human."

"At that reason is. . .?" Hermione asked.

"You know I can't tell you, Hermione. Please don't ask me to."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well, if you won't tell us, we can't help you, can we?"

"It doesn't matter. I keep telling you that. There's a - thing - the details aren't important."

"Well, how can I be sure of that if you won't tell me?"

"I'm sure, so just trust me."

"Harry? Let's forget about what it is for now. You said you didn't blame him for how he felt." Harry nodded to Ginny's question, grateful for the chance to move on. Hermione sniffed and buried herself in a book. "So you think he really should hate you?"

"Not exactly," Harry said. He ignored Hermione. She would get over it eventually. "I understand why he hates me, but I don't think he really should. It's hard to explain."

"So it's like what Hermione thought." Neville joined the conversation. He looked over at the pouting girl and continued when it was clear she was not going to look up. Harry gave him credit for trying to bring her back into the conversation, though. "If he was jealous of you or something, then you could understand how he felt, but still not agree with him. It's sort of like that?"

"Then we just need to show Snape that he's being a moron." Ron directed one of his pieces to crush Neville's king and sat back in his chair. "Without knowing what it is, though, we really can't help much. I know! I know! I'm just saying." Ron looked apologetic, so Harry let the comment slide. "But somehow, you need to get him to see that you're just you. Not whatever he thinks you are."

"Okay, that makes sense. But how?" No one answered, and Harry knew they were all thinking the same thing. If Harry was going to keep his secret, there was not much they could offer.

"Well, I know one thing he thinks about you, Harry, that isn't really true," Ginny said. "And I think I even know how to fix it." Harry couldn't help but think of the twins when he saw the glint in Ginny's eye. Even Hermione looked up at the mischievous tone, and they all leaned in to hear what Ginny had cooked up.

-----

Another morning arrived with another Occlumency lesson. Snape and Harry sat across from each other in a ritual Harry had become used to. His instructor glared at him as they filled their respective Pensieves. Harry could always predict when Snape was finished as his bones were no longer chilled by the man's stare. Today, Harry intended to leave a single memory behind–a little note to himself, really. It was a gamble that depended on how much of Harry himself Snape was removing. If Snape was only taking out memories of James, then he would certainly see through this. But at worst it would simply earn another insult, and Harry knew he could handle that easily enough. He had practice. Once he was ready to begin the lessons, he no longer knew why he had left instructions for himself. Well, I do remember that it's important, so I'll do it.

Today they would again be practicing Occlumency against involuntary questioning. Harry still had not picked up the knack of hiding that he was hiding something. Snape always seemed to know when Harry was holding back, even if he could not discover what exactly what it was. However, a skilled interrogator could learn volumes simply by discovering what type of information was being withheld and what information Harry simply didn't know. Because of that, Snape was allowing Harry to come up with topics for interrogation. Snape would then attempt to discover if that line of questioning was a dead end or if Harry was keeping something from him. Harry was getting better at it, and Snape had taken almost twenty minutes to question Harry last time before deciding, correctly, that Harry did indeed know that Dumbledore purchased his lemon drops from a Muggle store just outside of London.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape said, settling back into his armchair. "What deep dark secret shall I dig out of you today?"

Harry chuckled. It had been a joke they shared over the past few days. Both Harry and Snape had made a game of trying to come up with the most inane topics for their exercise. "Well, I think I did pretty well yesterday." Harry looked up to see Snape nodding. "So I thought I would go for something more complicated this time." Let's hope this makes sense. "What do I think of being The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at the question. "Emotional responses are much more difficult to hide than simple facts. But you have shown impressive skill over the past few says. Let's see how well you fare." With that, Snape began a series of questions, all the while inundating Harry's mind with visions, unspoken questions, and even two attempts to enter Harry's mind directly. Harry could not help but smile with pride when he fought off the attacks while still maintaining the same reserved demeanor as he answered Snape's questions. After a quarter hour, Harry could feel himself growing exhausted. He was pretty sure he had let nothing slip by but also knew that would not last longer. Snape, no doubt, sensed this as well, and shifted his focus, trying to elicit the emotional response he had warned Harry about.

Three minutes later, Harry felt Snape's mind ease off of the shields he had placed around his own thoughts, and the older man smirked. Harry knew what the small smile meant. Harry had lost their game, again, but Snape was still pleased with the boy's attempt. "No, Mr. Potter. I think it's safe to say that you despise the attention you get as The-Boy-Who-Lived. If you had your way, no one but your teachers and your friends would even know you existed."

Harry sunk into his chair and took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"That was impressive, Potter. Especially given that you have not been sleeping well."

"Should I bother asking how you know that?" Harry grinned at his professor. Such revelations were hardly unexpected during what nearly amounted to as mind-reading lessons.

Snape shrugged and after a moment asked, "Nightmares still?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think he's really calmed down since the other day. He's angry all the time." Harry rubbed at his temples.

"We're done for today. Retrieve your memories and take the morning off."

"It's only been a half hour, sir. I can keep going."

"You did well, there is no shame in stopping early." Snape picked up Harry's Pensieve and leaned over to force it into the boy's hand. "Get some rest, Harry."

Harry realized arguing was pointless as his teacher picked up the other Pensieve. Harry grabbed his wand and began emptying the Pensieve again. As he progressed, he kept his head down, again conscious of the plan he had hatched the night before. He finished before Snape and stood to leave, hoping to get out of there before the Potions Master had time to catch up and realize what had gone on. Harry was a step from the door when Snape's voice halted him.

"Potter." Snape's face was completely devoid of any expression. He could have been carved from granite for all the life he showed. Knowing what was coming, Harry took a risk and completely dropped all the shields and wards he had learned to keep around his mind and thoughts. He was exposed, completely, to Snape's Legilemency.

"There was not one memory, not a single thought, in my Pensieve that had anything to do with my question. Like I always do, I only took out memories about you. Everything else I kept."

Snape did not respond. His face was still as lifeless as before, and Harry was suddenly terrified. He thought he had seen every bad mood Snape could have, but this was beyond anything he had experienced. Head bowed, Harry had to open the door with two hands. He couldn't seem to maneuver the handle with just one; he was trembling too much.