Unforgivable Promises

Aethen

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 9

-----

After Snape's appraisal of Oliver Wood as a fine specimen, Harry was grateful to see the subject turn quickly to other matters. Still, it was comforting to think that there was someone he could say those things to without worrying about how the other would respond.

"Professor?" Harry asked. "I'm not complaining, but why did you say you would teach everyone combat so quickly? If you don't mind me saying so, you aren't usually that agreeable. And why are you afraid of Mrs. Weasley but not Neville's grandmother?"

"First and foremost, Potter, I am not afraid of any of the Weasley tribe. But I do have to live here for the duration of the summer, and her voice grates enough as it is. As for Mr. Longbottom, I am quite sure I will receive some epistolary tongue lashing. The boy has a right to avenge his parents, though."

"Have you seen them?" Harry focused on the candle's flame. "It's horrible."

Harry turned his eyes to Snape, who was watching him carefully. It was a look that would have made the boy uncomfortable a few months ago; Harry now recognized it as contemplative. With something decided, Snape pulled his wand and cast spell on the walls.

At Harry's curious look, Snape said, "A spell to prevent eavesdroppers." He replaced his wand and went on. "We have something of an unspoken agreement that I would like to. . . formalize. What passes between us in private stays only between us, agreed?"

"Of course, Professor."

"I was there when Bellatrix tortured the Longbottoms." The blood drained from Harry's face. Leave it to Snape to head right into the topic. "I could have stopped it. I did not. Does that disgust you, Mr. Potter?"

"I. . . Well, it disgusts me that it happened, yes. But that you didn't stop it?" Harry frowned and sighed. "I was there when Cedric was killed. I could have stopped that, maybe. But I was too caught up in my own pain and fear that I didn't even think about trying to find my wand until it was too late. I guess I'm not any more disgusted by you than I am of myself."

"An honest answer. It was the Longbottoms, or what happened to them, them finally drove me to where I am now. It is one thing to kill one's enemies. Even to disable them in some way. But either choice, should you have the luxury of the choice, should be the more merciful of the two. And here, perhaps, begins your first lesson in combat. An enemy fighting for his life is easier to kill than to disarm. Humans are fragile creatures, and there are many more things that can end a life than simply hurt someone. In war, we do not have time to gauge our spells to fall within that narrow range of power that will disable but not kill. So we guarantee our own survival at the cost of another's."

Snape conjured two cups of tea and took a sip from one, offering the other to Harry. "When they captured the Longbottoms, they took their wands and bound them. They were no threat to anyone. They could have been killed, too. But the torture they underwent served no purpose. Bellatrix had no reason to suspect that they knew where the Dark Lord was, despite what the Headmaster may have said. But she enjoyed torture and her Lord had just been defeated. It was then that I truly knew I was out of place." Snape's voice grew soft and his attention turned inward. "It was never my intention to be a part of that."

Harry sipped his tea silently. After a few moments, Snape's eyes looked back up at Harry. When he spoke again, his voice was strong as ever. "There is a reason I am telling you this, Mr. Potter. As much as you dislike hearing it, and as much as I dislike acknowledging it, your survival is paramount. I will not refuse Longbottom the chance to take revenge that is rightfully his. But I cannot allow him to hold up your progress. So. . ."

Snape shifted in his chair, and for the first time, Harry recognized discomfort in his teacher's posture. Snape straightened up and said, "I am asking you for a favor." Harry's smirk died quickly under Snape's glare. "Do not let him fall behind. Practice with him, tutor him. Even recruit Granger if you need, but make sure he is as capable as any of the rest of you. Convince him how important it is any way you must, but do not repeat what was said in here."

"I'll make sure he's ready, Professor. I don't think it'll take much, though. He was great in the Department of Mysteries. I think you just make him nervous."

Snape leaned forward. "That's not good enough, Harry. Bellatrix Lestrange is truly evil. As evil as the Dark Lord ever was, just not as strong." He leaned back into his chair and casually sipped his tea. "Whereas I am just a nasty git."

Harry laughed. "Be careful, Professor. I'm nearly convinced you have a sense of humor."

"Nonsense."

Harry chuckled. He considered what Snape had told him and asked, "So, is that why were you willing to teach everyone else? So Neville could get revenge and the rest could help him keep up?"

"Not entirely, but for the most part."

Harry waited to see if Snape would elaborate, but was disappointed. What he really wanted to know, though, was what had driven Snape to believe that his place was at Voldemort's side in the first place. He knew part of that decision lay with his father, but he felt it somehow important to know the rest. Now was not the time to ask, though. This truce–no it was now more than a truce–whatever it was, it was not far enough along to broach that topic.

Eventually, the conversation turned to the new training they would be undertaking, and Harry asked Snape if he knew what kind of things he would be teaching.

"The primary difference between real combat and dueling is that dueling has rules dictating what is considered acceptable magic and just as important, that duelists take turns in their attack. The theory is the same. Therefore, most of the spells I will teach you are of the type you would see in a duel. I will not be teaching you any dark spells."

Harry nodded. "I didn't really expect that. But, the Death Eaters don't really play fair, do they? So we still need to know more than just how to duel without taking turns."

"First and foremost, get rid of the word 'fair' from your vocabulary. Legal and illegal are concerns sometimes. Perhaps even moral and immoral, though that is debatable, but fair is something even a Gryffindor must realize has no place outside of a duel."

"Even a Gryffindor?" Harry raised an eyebrow in imitation of Snape and knew he had no chance of pulling it off. Snape smirked at him.

"Yes, even a thick-headed Gryffindor. The rules of dueling were created originally to determine who was the more powerful wizard. One spell at a time until one of them lost. You will be fighting wizards more powerful than you, so the idea of fair in dueling terms will leave you dead. In more recent years, the rules of dueling were tightened to limit the chance of fatal injury. Obviously, that is out of the question as well. It certainly will not be a concern for your opponents."

"So how do make up for my woefully inadequate skills?" Harry risked a playful tone.

"Three things. Smart defenses, which primarily means knowing when ducking is better than a counter-spell. Stealth, which is knowing when and how to strike before you're seen. Do not look at me like that. Even your beloved Godric Gryffindor knew how to lure an enemy into a trap."

Harry chuckled and asked, "And the third?"

Snape stood up and his hands disappeared into his heavy robes. With the hiss of fabric on fabric, he pulled out a belt strung with small bags. When the Potions Master set the load on the table, Harry realized that what he had thought were bags were actually about two dozen cloth covered bottles. Arranged in size order with the largest in back and the smallest looping around on both sides to meet the buckle, the vials were stoppered with an odd assortment of lids, corks and plugs. Harry leaned in for a closer look.

"One of the many secrets I harbor," Snape said. "Even the Dark Lord does not know I carry so many potions on me. They range from sedatives to poisons, acids to explosives, and all manner of antidotes. You, at least, will wear a similar one before the summer has ended. And perhaps the others as well."

"And the corks?"

"Mostly devices of my own making. They allow the potions to be used in the most efficient manner. Glass or metal for those that react with wooden cork, various shapes and attachments depending on need. For instance," Snape said, pulling one of the larger bottles from its place and setting it on the table. Harry had not noticed it before, but the cork was indeed oddly shaped. It was actually two corks joined together. The second cork capped a much smaller vial and sported a loop of metal. "One can break the two apart before using, or simply hold the vial in one's hand and pitch the larger at a target. The cork will break easily enough. Then. . ." Snape hooked his thumb through the metal ring and used it to pull the cork free, leaving the vial in his closed fist. "Poison." He indicated the bigger bottle. "Antidote." He tapped the vial and replaced the cork.

Harry jerked back away from the table. "No offense, Professor, but just when I think you can't get any scarier. . ."

"Yes well," Snape said as he buckled the belt around him again. "It's a living, I suppose."

Harry laughed again. Yes, Snape may very well have a sense of humor. Imagine.

As if he had heard Harry's thoughts and was distressed at the idea, Snape became serious again. "The members of the Order do not know I carry the belt either. It is not that I distrust them, but if my duplicity is made known, I fully intend to use every last bottle when brought before the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded his understanding and asked, "Then why tell us about it, sir?"

Snape frowned at him, and Harry suddenly felt like he had just added powdered newt brain into the wrong cauldron. "Honestly, Potter, while I may have said otherwise in the past, you are, in truth, not a complete imbecile."

Harry creased his brow. Somehow, Snape telling him he was not an imbecile made him feel more like one, as he had no idea what the man was getting at.

"Harry, I have been given a single directive by the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters are mobilized in force carrying out countless plans and seeing to all manner of atrocities, yet, I, one of his most trusted servants, have a single task to complete on the first day of school. And it is expected that every waking moment between now and then be spent in preparation of that task."

Harry blinked. He had never considered what Snape's order had meant. He knew the Potions Master would not carry out the order to kill him, so he had just forgotten about it. But Voldemort would not forget. And when the second day of school arrived and Harry was still alive-

Harry stood up. "No," he said. "I won't-"

"Do not say it, Potter." Snape's casual tone was gone, his voice was even, the words were as cold and clear as ice, and seated before Harry was everything about Snape that had ever made him frightened and uneasy. Here was the look that convinced every student from first to seventh year that the Potions Master was deadly. "I have seen that look on Gryffindors before, Potter, and I forbid you to finish that sentence. Save yourself. Make your promises to those who have a hope of living through this; do not waste them on me. Save yourself, and you will save the world. The only thing that matters any more is your survival. I will be dead at the end of the summer. You will be as capable of surviving as I can make you."

Harry was trembling, but his eyes hardened. He did not have to speak the words to make his promise. He would find a way to save Snape. Too many people had already given their lives to save his. He refused to sell the souls of others to buy himself another day. Harry said nothing as he left the room.

-----

Breakfast the next morning was a raucous occasion. Mrs. Weasley had left early after giving Snape a stern talking-to about what kinds of things were appropriate for her children to learn. Harry had thought that the twins had proven quite adept at finding knowledge they should not have, but did not point that out. He knew Snape must have been thinking the same, but the Potions Master apparently chose the quieter course as well. Tonks, resting up from an evening spent doing things "better left to us to worry about" volunteered to help out with the first day of training. Mrs. Weasley had looked relieved at the younger woman's presence, but when Mundungus Fletcher stomped into the room and made the same offer, the redhead forbade him from so much as giving advice to Snape while the children were not present.

"At least Professor Snape knows what is appropriate for them to learn. You, on the other hand, have never had an appropriate thought in your life! And on second thought, I don't want you even in the house with them when I'm not here." Dung's eyes twinkled as the woman worked herself into a fury. "You're coming with me today, Fletcher. I'll show you how to actually pay for what you're shopping for."

"Sounds like a grand time. We can visit some friends of mine in Knockturn Alley." Mundungus laughed and Mrs. Weasley looked mortified as the dirt-covered wizard stood from the table and led the way out.

Harry and the others finished breakfast in high spirits. Ron speculated on what spells they would be learning while Hermione counted how many of them would likely show up on their N.E.W.Ts. Ginny and Tonks were talking about how much harder it was for women to be taken on as Aurors, and Neville sat beside Harry looking quite terrified.

Once things quieted down, Snape, who had been sipping tea quietly, cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter. We have your lessons to attend to. Miss Tonks, will you bring the rest to the attic and find a suitable room? Have the children clear all the furniture from the room without magic." Ron groaned. Snape looked down at the boy and said, "There will certainly be a good deal of dust as well. Have them clean the room without magic as well."

"Yes, Professor Snape." Tonks made a show of curtseying to Snape, which earned her a few stifled chuckles. With a gesture to the rest to follow, she left the kitchen. Snape and Harry headed to the library. Ron muttered, "Lucky git," at he passed Harry. Harry chose the mature path and merely stuck his tongue out at his friend.

In the library, Snape took his customary seat and said, "I hope you do not mistake your exclusion from cleaning the attic as some kind of favor."

"Of course not, sir," Harry replied. Harry sat down and considered how Snape's disposition seemed to change hourly. He was never sure if the man was going to offer some small kindness or go out of his way to make sure Harry knew he was no one special. "I can't be two places at once, and you probably don't want to wait around up there while I help them move stuff." Snape nodded and sat back into the chair.

The lesson was mostly a discussion of theory rather than practice. Snape wanted as many details about Harry's episode the other day as the boy could give. To Harry's frustration, those details seemed few and vague. He was embarrassed to admit that his own misery had clouded everything else. He did not need Snape to tell him that it was that misery that had probably led to the situation.

"Is that why you never seem to have any emotions?" Harry asked. As the words came out, Harry regretted them. The question had been asked out of curiosity, but to his own ears they sounded harsh and insulting. Snape raised an eyebrow, but took the question as it was intended.

"To say I do not have emotions would be false. But yes, I exercise control over them, in part, due to the Mark and the bond it creates with the Dark Lord. You must remember, however, that the bond I possess is under his control to a much greater extent. My bond is not as strong, I believe. And it certainly does not allow the kind of connection that yours does. He cannot use the Mark the way he used your scar last year, for instance. And I cannot use mine the way you have. He would know immediately if I attempted to so much as brush his mind."

Harry furrowed his brow. "How can he tell that with your bond, if it's so much weaker than mine?"

"The Mark behaves as he wishes it to. He would not willingly bind himself to anyone unless he had complete control over the mechanism. The bond you share with him was anything but voluntary."

"I wouldn't have picked it if I had the choice." Harry rubbed at his scar. "Does that mean he can break your bond if you wants?"

"It has never been done, that I am aware. But I have always assumed so. He would be concerned that the bond could be used against him somehow and would have planned for that contingency. He has survived this long by always having a plan for escape."

Harry considered that. If there was a way to free Snape, the knowledge would be somewhere in Voldemort's own mind, and probably nowhere else. Voldemort would not have shared that information with anyone. He looked up guiltily when Snape asked, "Why are you so concerned with how my bond works, Potter?"

It was not quite a lie when Harry said, "It's the closest thing to my scar that I know of. If it works the same way, then the more I know about the Mark, the more I know about what I'm dealing with. I'm not too fond of getting sucked into Vol-" Harry noticed Snape flinch minutely and stopped short. "The Dark Lord's mind."

"Then you must learn to control your mind better. You are getting better at resisting normal Legilemency, but when your emotions are running high, you leave yourself open to his mind."

"But my shields were up the whole time," Harry said. "Right up until I–left my body or whatever it is–I could feel my shields up. They probably weren't as steady as they could have been, but it was more like I slipped through them. Or everything happened inside the shields. Besides, later the shields were still intact, and I know I didn't put them up between when I lost consciousness and when I woke up."

Snape stood and walked to a bookcase. "And no doubt the Dark Lord's shields are significantly stronger than yours, yet you keep slipping through his. Those shields should help against any active probing, but you are being affected by something much more subtle. As I pointed out earlier, strong emotions, specifically strong negative emotions, seem to cause it on a subconscious level. Rather than slipping through your shields, it would be better to say you slip under them."

It had never occurred to Harry to wonder why Voldemort's own shields, which he would certainly maintain, were not keeping Harry out of his mind. "But that means he can enter my mind, doesn't it?"

"In theory, yes." Harry grew suddenly ill at Snape's response. "However, it seems that is not happening. The visions he sent you last year were done before you could block your mind effectively from him. Judging by your description of the pain involved I would say that he attacked your mind and managed to win through your shields."

"That's what I thought, too. But he doesn't seem to know I'm in his mind when I do it accidentally. I wouldn't know he's there if he did it the same way, right?"

"No, you wouldn't. But the fact that I am still alive implies that he has not done so." Harry looked away from Snape in a panic. Snape laughed. "Albus and I have already discussed the possibility, and we are both satisfied that the risk is nearly nonexistent. You cannot spend the next two months staring at the floor, Potter."

"But I don't want to-"

"You won't, Harry." Harry met Snape's gaze again. "The Dark Lord is likely unaware of the possibility. And were he aware, he would not use it. He would never leave his physical form so unprotected. Indeed, Albus believes he would be unable to do so. His mind and soul are bound to this body in ways normal humans are not. It is, as you know, not his first body. He may not be able to leave it due to the spells keeping him in place."

"And you and Dumbledore are sure he can't?"

"As sure as we can be, yes. Sure enough that I'm sitting here across from you."

That would have to do.

-----

Following the Occlumency lessons, which had moved to focus more on ways Harry could keep his feelings in check, the two climbed the stairs to the attic. Tonks had taken charge and shown little mercy, apparently, as they found Harry's friends in the wide room at the end of the hall. The bare walls and floors showed a faded maze that had once twisted around old furniture. There was no dust to be found, though, aside from the light coating that Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville sported on their robes. They were all four sweating and breathing heavily, leaving Harry to assume they had not finished much earlier than Harry and Snape.

"Well," Snape said. "I see you have all had a chance to rest up. Excellent. Please stand." And with that introduction, Snape took all five students through a rigorous series of curses and counter-curses. Each of them was paired up, in turns, with Snape and Tonks. Harry was sure that the N.E.W.Ts could not possibly be more exhausting than what they went through.

Finally, after three hours with no break, Tonks and Snape looked as rested as they had at breakfast. Harry was unsure he would be able to move until dinner, and Ron was laying down beneath the room's only window. His chest was moving, so Harry was assured the boy was still living.

"That was not fun," Neville said after the Auror and their instructor had left. Ginny responded with a groan.