Severus: A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

By Daphne Dunham

Chapter 15: Behind the Mask

* * * * *

In truth, he had nowhere else to take her. St. Mungo's was useless at this point; he couldn't bear to face Augustus and Madeleine Swizzle, and his own family was nearly all aligned with the Dark Lord. But perhaps, Severus had realised, there was a place he could go, a place he could guarantee Jane's body would be safe and treated with reverence. It was, after all, the one place where they had always been safe, shielded from the outside world: Hogwarts.

The school would very quiet, as the students wouldn't return from their Easter holiday for several more days, and Severus was hopeful that although he was a Death Eater, the legendary, learned headmaster might be decent enough to see to it that the martyred wife of one of his former students was given a proper burial. It was a risk, of course, as by subjecting himself to the mercy of Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the opposition against the Dark Lord, Severus was risking Azkaban. The hook-nosed young man shuddered at the thought of the prison where his mother had suffered, but he had no one else to turn to, no where else to go. If need be, Azkaban was a price he was willing to pay for his mistakes; it was a price he was willing to pay for Jane.

A cold, hard rain had begun to fall as Severus, still carrying Jane's lifeless body in his arms, stumbled up to the main entrance of Hogwarts. He'd Apparated as far as Hogwarts and had stumbled up the winding road towards the school from there. Exhausted, he felt his knees weaken as he staggered to the gate, and between the trauma of the evening and his own fatigue, Severus was only faintly aware of having collapsed in the mud at the door of the formidable castle he'd once called his home.

He wasn't completely positive how long he'd slept, but when he awoke at last, it was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. Bleary-eyed, Severus blinked, trying to take in his surroundings and recall the events that had brought him back to this familiar setting. The beds seemed smaller than when he was a student, the sheets rougher, and the room draftier. What startled him the most, though, was that Albus Dumbledore was standing over him, smelling salts in hand and a sad twinkle in his eyes. He was mumbling something - that damn man always mumbled - but Severus couldn't quite make out his words.

It took a moment, but the memory of the night's events came flooding back to him in grim lucidity - the violence of the streets, Jane dead at the hands of unknown Death Eaters, his resolve to see her avenged. As the images overwhelmed him, Severus struggled to sit up. "Jane!" he gasped. "Where's my wife?!" He clutched desperately at Dumbledore, suddenly wide-eyed and furious, anxious for answers.

The headmaster, however, remained placid, a fact which only served to increase the hook-nosed young wizard's frustration. "Relax, Severus," he said calmly, trying to ease him into lying back down. "Jane is being well taken care of, I assure you."

Dumbledore nodded in the direction of the far end of the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey and Argus Filch stood fussing over one of the beds. The body was delicately draped in a white sheet, but the feminine curves were still distinguishable. Undoubtedly, it was Jane's corpse beneath that shroud. If Severus had been foolish enough to harbor any delusions that the events of the past few hours, as wretched and surreal as they had been, had actually taken place, they were instantly shattered.

"It was Death Eaters... The raid on the Boneses, and Jane... She-she was helping a Muggle boy... And they killed her," Severus choked, trying to explain in halting, increasingly hysterical syllables. He turned back to look at Dumbledore then, his eyes wide and dark and wild. "They killed her right in front of me!"

"There was nothing you could have done, Severus," the headmaster tried to soothe. "It's not your fault."

Such comfort was meaningless, though, as Severus knew better: he knew that he was a Death Eater, that he shared in their guilt by mere association; he knew Jane would never have been there if it hadn't been for him. There were so many times he could have stopped the chain of events that lead to her death - after Regulus Black was murdered, after Jane told him she was pregnant, after Evan Rosier's death - but he never did. Rosier had begged him not to make a bollocks of his life. It appeared, however, that Severus had managed to do so with alarming brilliance nonetheless, and Jane had ultimately paid the price for his mistakes.

There was nothing Severus could do to unmake the past, but there was something he could do to rectify the wrongs of the present. With a sudden thrashing motion, Severus thrust the blankets off him and got to his feet. Vengeance was all he had left now, and he struggled to lace up his boots and collect his wand in preparation to make good on that vow.

"What do you intend to do, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, intently watching the young man whose back now faced him.

Severus whirled around to face Dumbledore with a determined glint in his eye. His knuckles were white from clenching his wand so tightly, and his face, pale with fury, was bent in a furious scowl.

"I'm going after them, of course," he spat bitterly.

The headmaster raised a hand in gentle protest. "Severus, you're not thinking clearly," he said. "You can't go attack the Death Eaters. You'll get yourself killed."

"Then let them kill me!" he hissed. "Let me die trying!"

"I won't let you go, Severus," Dumbledore insisted with a calm that sharply contrasted to the rage of the young man before him. "Not now - not yet."

Severus glowered. "Death Eaters murdered my wife and unborn child," he seethed through clenched teeth. "They have taken from me everything I once held precious. Because of them, I have nothing, no cause, no purpose, no hope - none except to help destroy them, to take away from them as they have taken away from me."

He was intense now, flecks of spit spewing from his mouth and a crazed look in his eyes. With a fluid, furious stride, he swept towards the bed where Jane's corpse rested, nearly bowling Filch and Madam Pomfrey out of his way.

"Look what they've done to her!" Severus bellowed, indicating the body. "Look at her! How can I not want justice?!"

Dumbledore raised a knowing eyebrow. "It is not justice of which you speak, Severus," he pressed, a bit more forcefully now. "You talk of revenge, of a pure and simple lust for blood. You talk of making the problem worse than it already is."

An irate flush filled Severus' cheeks. "So what if I am?!" he roared. "What right have you to deny me my anger?!"

The headmaster sighed. "I'm not denying you your anger, Severus," he corrected. "I'm merely asking you to consider what benefit will be reaped from letting it get the better of you."

Severus' eyes narrowed into distinctly displeased slits. "I'm afraid I haven't your patience for consideration, Dumbledore," he growled, brushing past him and stalking towards the door.

By now, the headmaster had seen enough of Severus' passion to realise that should he be allowed to leave the castle, he would be capable of doing something quite foolish. Between the Boneses, Jane, and the Muggles of Hammersmith, enough life had been lost tonight, and Albus Dumbledore was loath to add Severus Snape to their numbers. He had to be stopped. In a sudden, genteel sweeping motion, the headmaster had his wand from his robes and aimed at the hook-nosed young wizard. Instantly, thin but wiry bands of cord erupted from the tip of his wand and coiled around Severus' arms and legs, binding him mid-motion. The latter's wand fell from his hands, and he tripped and stumbled to the floor at the Dumbledore's feet, bound like an animal. Stunned and infuriated, Severus glared up at the headmaster, a steam of foul language and incantations he lacked the magic to actualize spewing from his mouth.

Dumbledore wasn't listening, though. "Poppy, Mr. Snape is quite hysterical," he was saying to the nurse. "Please fetch me a Sleeping Draught to help calm him."

Hearing this, Severus twisted against the cords that bound him with even greater fervor and greater profanity. Moments later, he was cognizant of Dumbledore pressing a vial to his lips. The Sleeping Draught. Indeed, a sweetish, watery substance trickled down his throat despite his efforts to resist, and after a moment, he felt too drowsy to struggle any more. And so, Severus surrendered: he lay on the floor in the headmaster's arms like a child, growing increasingly debilitated by the moment.

"You will do no great honour to Jane's memory if you get yourself killed tonight, Severus," Dumbledore said softly, looking down on his captive with surprising gentleness.

It was the last thing Severus remembered before his eyes closed and he sank into a dark, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"How are you feeling today, Severus?" asked Albus Dumbledore pleasantly.

Severus stumbled into the headmaster's office with a scowl and threw himself into a chair with a motion of familiarity. He remembered this office all too well from his days as a Hogwarts student. Thanks to the constant enmity between himself and James Potter and Sirius Black, he'd sat in this very chair quite a few times before. This time, however, circumstances were quite different.

"Hung over," the pallid young man replied. His voice was barely audible, and he cradled his head in his hands. "That Sleeping Draught you gave me had too much asphodel. It's a miracle I'm still alive at all. Don't you have a competent Potions master on staff?!"

A small grin tugged at the corners of the headmaster's lips. "I'm pleased to see the Draught hasn't affected your disposition," he observed.

Severus snorted and rubbed his wrists, which were sore and bruised from his struggles against the headmaster's cords last night.

"Ah, yes, I apologize for binding you last night, Severus - it was the only way I could stop you. You were not rational, and you would have done yourself great harm if I'd left you to your own devices," Dumbledore explained.

"Perhaps," the younger wizard replied with a frown. He opened his mouth to continue but paused awkwardly, his voice trailing off as he noticed something unusual resting on the headmaster's desk.

His Death Eater mask.

The mask must have fallen out of his pocket last night in the midst of his hysteria and now Dumbledore had seen it; Dumbledore knew what he was. Severus paled and trembled with a mixture of shame and self-loathing. Under the headmaster's watchful stare, he reached towards the mask and took the horrid thing his hands. The empty holes for his eyes stared eerily at him, a haunting reminder of the hollowness of the Dark Lord's promises and the shell of a man he had become while in his service.

"I was one of them. That's why I was there - that's how I saw what happened," Severus croaked, his voice catching in his throat, crackling like it hadn't done in nearly ten years.

"I did this to her... Jane wouldn't have been there last night if it wasn't for me - if I hadn't pushed her away," he continued in a bitter whisper. "She deserved better from me. All I gave her were lies and a failing marriage. It was only a matter of time before she left me... And the baby - I didn't want the baby... I threatened to abort it... And now they're both dead...

"And I killed..." He paused to swallow hard. "I helped kill Regulus Black - I made the poison that Rosier used. I buried him with my own two hands. Right here - in the Forest. Merlin only knows how many others died or were hurt because of me and what I did, the potions I made... All those poisons must have been meant for someone, and I never asked... I never cared..."

Severus looked up at the headmaster then, waiting for the reprimand, the punishment, the threat of Azkaban that he was sure awaited him. A reprimand did not come, however. Instead, Severus was greeted by the headmaster's patient, placid gaze. "No lecture? No moralistic preaching from the great Albus Dumbledore?" he asked in disbelief.

Folding his hands patiently in his lap, Dumbledore shook his head. "I think we're a bit beyond lectures at this point, Severus," he replied. "Don't you?"

"More like Azkaban," Severus muttered under his breath as he nodded in dismal agreement. "You always knew I'd end up like this, didn't you?"

Dumbledore peered meaningfully at him from over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "I always knew you were walking a tenuous line, Severus," he said quietly. There was no sense of anger or shock in his voice, though. Just sadness - pity, even. "I tried to warn you, but the choice was ultimately yours to make."

There was no point trying to contest the validity of the headmaster's words. Severus recalled with uncomfortable clarity the precautionary subtleties behind Dumbledore's words during each of their previous conversations - how he'd reminded him of Circe Snape's sacrifice and expressed concern with his lack of ability to control his emotions. He could only imagine how much it had probably pained Dumbledore to watch his advice go unheeded, to see Severus sink deeper into the recesses of rage and resentment with each passing year. After all, however powerful a wizard the headmaster was, there was no incantation, no enchantment that could diminish free will.

"The question is, Severus," the headmaster continued gently, "what you will do now that you have been given the chance to choose again."

"I forfeited all rights to second chances the minute I took the Dark Mark," Severus mused darkly.

"That's where you're wrong, Severus," Dumbledore corrected. "You always have a choice."

For Severus, though, it wasn't so much a choice as it was a fact: Returning to the service of the Dark Lord was not merely something he wouldn't do; it was something that he couldn't do. Jane's broken body downstairs in the hospital wing stood testament to this truth. Severus couldn't stand among the Death Eaters, knowing that some among them had murdered his wife, their identities forever concealed behind their masks. To do so would be to make a mockery of the love he had for Jane and for their child, to turn his back on a lifetime of memories and feelings. It would be to deny himself the most fundamental elements of Slytherinness that dwelled in his very blood - the anger, the grudge, the innate impulse to protect himself and his own.

As Severus stood up and walked over to the window, he realised that his choice was made for him, that it had been before he was even cognizant of alternatives. "I can't go back to them - not after what they did to Jane," he spat, jaw clenched and eyes stony with anger.

Such a statement hardly seemed to surprise Dumbledore. "No, no, I didn't expect that you would," he agreed softly.

"But nor can I just sit idly, watching you all struggle against them," Severus added. He paused dramatically then, and when he turned back to at the headmaster, there was a passionate gleam in his dark eyes. "Let me join you," he said suddenly, strongly.

It was spoken with such conviction that it caught Albus Dumbledore off guard. He froze and regarded Severus with a strange fascination, simultaneously amused and more than a little bewildered. "Join me, Severus?" he inquired, prompting his former student to elaborate.

The younger wizard nodded excitedly. He was pacing about the headmaster's office now, fists clenched with determination. "I know you're working against the Death Eaters. I've known since I was a child - when I heard the Dark Lord talking to my father about trying to bar you from Hogwarts," Severus explained. "And I can help you - I can name names; I can name places; I can lead you to countless Death Eaters."

Leaning back in his chair, the headmaster pressed his long fingertips together contemplatively. "And how do you propose to do this, Severus? One cannot merely defect from Voldemort's service. It's not that simple. You are bound by Dark magic; the Death Eaters will find you, and if they suspect you are not loyal, they will kill you."

Severus gave an involuntary shudder at the mention of his master's name. He hesitated a moment, turning over the headmaster's words in his mind. "I'm close to the Death Eaters," he said at last. "I can go back to them as if I never left - maintain their trust - and I can pass whatever I learn on to you... I can spy."

The headmaster leaned back pensively in his chair. "Espionage," he mused. "I cannot deny that our cause could benefit greatly from information such as you could provide us. The Ministry is in turmoil, the Order of the Phoenix is small. Having someone close to the Death Eaters but loyal to the Order could prove invaluable." He sighed then and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "However, what you're suggesting will be highly dangerous, Severus. Voldemort will kill you without hesitation if you are discovered. Are you willing to risk dying?"

"I've seen what the Dark Lord does to traitors," Severus said coldly, recalling the vision of Regulus Black's corpse in the Forest. "I know what I'm risking, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself otherwise."

The headmaster brought a hand to his bearded chin, pensively massaging it as he carefully evaluated the young man before him. "And what do you have to gain by doing this, Severus? Are you seeking redemption?"

"No," Severus said firmly, his black eyes flickering with a strange fire. "That's too lofty an ideal for me. I don't deserve it, anyway. But it would be an insult to you and to your cause if I pretended I was being altruistic. What I want is simple enough." His voice turned low and dangerous then as he continued. "I want revenge - justice, as you so put it last night."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow of alarm. "Your bloodlust won't bring Jane back, Severus," he said in a tone of warning.

"I know," Severus replied forcibly. "But it can justify her death."

There was little doubt in Dumbledore's mind regarding the sincerity of Severus' offer - no, it wasn't quite an offer; it was more of a plea. Severus had proven long ago that Dumbledore could trust him; the young man had, after all, never told a soul - not even Jane, he suspected - that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. And there was that passionate glimmer in his dark eyes, an odd energy. It would have been difficult if not downright inhumane to try to deny Severus the sense of loss that he felt and his need to see justice done. Few men in his position would feel otherwise.

However willing Severus was, though, the logistics of espionage was another story. Going back to the Death Eaters and maintaining a convincing façade would be difficult. If anyone could manage it, though, it would be a wizard whose cunning and resourcefulness matched that of the Dark Lord himself. It would be a Slytherin - a quintessential Slytherin, at that - a Slytherin not unlike the young man before him. Albus Dumbledore was loath to a send a man to certain death, but perhaps such was not the case with Severus Snape. Indeed, he had Slytherin shrewdness in his favor as well as personal motivation for his choices that few others possessed.

"If you allow me to do this, I swear that I will dedicate my life to destroying the Death Eaters," Severus reiterated, seeing the older wizard's hesitancy. "I will not fail you; I want this too badly."

Dumbledore saw the determination blazing brilliantly in the eyes of the young man before him. He remembered all too well Severus' disposition from his days as a student, and consequentially, he knew that the young wizard before him was quite obstinate. There would be no dissuading him now that he had decided what he wanted to do, and it would be futile for Dumbledore to try to talk him out of it.

The headmaster sat silently a moment, staring contemplatively at the young man before him. "Very well then, Severus," he said at last. "Very well."

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