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 16: The Lawful and the Damned

* * * * *

Jane never knew that he was a Death Eater. It would take Severus Snape several years of tormenting himself over the circumstances surrounding her death, but in the end he found that for this much at least, he could be grateful. Of course, the fact that Jane never knew the extent of his failure was of little comfort to Severus now as he stared mournfully down at the casket before him. He ran his hand over the smooth, dark wood, caressing it one last time as though the gentle longing of his touch could somehow massage life back into the corpse within. He withdrew only when Dumbledore nodded to Filch and Hagrid: It was time to bury Jane.

Severus watched in silence as the caretaker and the gamekeeper guided the Levitated casket into one of the marble vaults in the catacombs beneath Hogwarts. It was quite an honour that Jane should be buried here, as the mausoleum was typically reserved for the gravesites of only the most worthy witches and wizards - school headmasters, respected politicians, members of the Order of the Merlin and the like. Severus had been speechless when the headmaster told him of his intentions to make Jane's grave among such celebrated figures, but upon reflection, he'd agreed that it seemed only right to commemorate her sacrifice in such a way. After all, Jane had been so brave - something she must have inherited from her mother's side of the family, Severus thought grimly, recalling how two of Madeleine Prewett Swizzle's nephews had recently died fighting Death Eaters. Severus had never considered Jane a particularly brave person - not the foolish sort who took careless risks like a few Gryffindors he could think of, anyway. And yet, in merely doing what was right, what was her duty, she had displayed strength of character and a sense of honor.

Once Jane's casket had been carefully stowed inside the mausoleum, Dumbledore raised his wand and sealed the tomb with a gentle flick of his wrist. No sooner had the marble vault been closed than the letters marking the grave spontaneously appeared across it. Jane Snape and Child, Martyrs, the elegant script read. Heaving a sigh, Severus reached out to run his fingertips over the inscription, tracing each letter with a delicately and deliberately, as though to ingrain them onto his palm and into his mind. So intense was his meditation on the writing that he was only dimly aware of Dumbledore placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder moments later.

"We'll leave you now," the headmaster said softly.

Severus nodded faintly to acknowledge Dumbledore's words. Although he was loath to admit it, there was a piece of Severus that wished the older wizard to stay, that needed someone - anyone - to serve as a witness to the loss of Jane. As Dumbledore lead a solemn Filch and a weepy Hagrid out of the catacombs, though, the pallid young wizard was mostly grateful for the solitude.

It was there, alone in the dimly lit catacombs that, for the first time since the night his mother had been sentenced to Azkaban so many years ago, Severus Snape cried. He was hesitant at first. It startled him to feel the hot, damp streams trickling down his cheeks, and he brought his hands to his face and dipped his fingers in the salty pools in awe of their novelty. Then, finding the release cathartic, Severus cried harder. He sobbed for the angry little boy who'd haunted his father's Dark library and for the bitter young man who had brewed the poison that killed Regulus Black. He wept for the evenings he should have spent with Jane and for the pink nursery that would never be inhabited. He wailed for the choices he had made, for the things he had done, and for the vengeance he had yet to seek.

As Severus cried, his raspy voice and jagged breaths echoed eerily in the arches of the stone structure surrounding him. He shivered. He was surrounded by death, and yet alive as he knew he was, he felt oddly as though he belonged here among the corpses. Despite the blood flowing threw his veins, Severus was in many ways a walking dead man: dead in his heart, dead in his mind, and doomed to die a traitor's death at the hand of the Dark Lord in a mere matter of time.

* * *

Severus didn't know how long he had spent staring at Jane's grave, tormenting himself with his memories of her and having startling revelations of how her death had been his fault. When he emerged from the catacombs, however, the sun could be seen setting though the windows and the torches that lined the corridors leading to the headmaster's office were already lit. It seemed a longer walk to Dumbledore's tower than Severus remembered it having been earlier that day. With a great sense of relief, he muttered the password - "ice mice" - to the gargoyle guarding the entrance and ascended the spiral stairs to the office above.

Whatever it was that Severus had expected upon entering the headmaster's tower, it certainly wasn't the sight that now greeted him. Rather than finding Dumbledore alone, hunched over some paperwork or perhaps offering a nibble of something sweet to Fawkes, Severus discovered that the headmaster had company - Minerva McGonagall, James and Lily Potter, and Arthur Weasley, to be exact. They sat about the room, brows furrowed and deep in conversation. Severus halted abruptly when he saw them and tried to back out of the room, but it was too late. Their chatter fell to a quick silence, and they looked at him expectantly.

"I-I'm sorry, Headmaster," Severus stammered. "I didn't know you had company."

Dumbledore's eyes only twinkled warmly. "No, no, please come in, and have a seat," he replied, immediately Conjuring a chair for the hook-nosed young man beside Minerva McGonagall.

As Severus reluctantly sat down, he felt every set of eyes in the room upon him. They stared heavily at him, betraying that they knew what he had done - they knew that he was a Death Eater and a killer, that Jane was dead, and that he was partially responsible. Severus squirmed uncomfortably. He couldn't bear their eyes boring into him with that odd combination of loathing, suspicion, and pity. It made him feel monstrous, barbarous, and it was all he could do to maintain his composure until Albus Dumbledore, sensing Severus' discomfort in his ever-omniscient fashion, cleared his throat to distract their gazes.

"Mr. Snape will be staying at Hogwarts as my guest until he can set his affairs in order," the headmaster informed them authoritatively as though to curtly put an end to their stares. "Now, as I was saying -"

Dumbledore was unable to finish his sentence, however, as another intrusion promptly distracted the attention of everyone present. A rather tall man stepped into the room, his footsteps thumping dully on the floor as he drew closer. He had a distinctive appearance: unkempt dark grey hair and a face gnarled by scars, the battle wounds of years of dangerous magic and mis-magic. Most notable, though, was the sizable chunk of flesh that was missing from the man's nose. The wound was so unsightly that if Severus hadn't known to expect it - if he hadn't been there the night it had happened - he may have been startled by it.

"Merlin's beard, what's he doing here?!" Alastor Moody barked, his magical eye suddenly spinning with wild disapproval as he surveyed Severus Snape.

Behind his desk, Dumbledore remained perfectly placid. "Alastor, calm yourself," he said gently.

"Calm myself?! Albus, he's a Death Eater!" Moody snarled, incredulous.

The headmaster raised his eyebrows and peered weightily over the rims of his spectacles. "I trust him, Alastor, and while I don't expect you to be able to set aside your suspicions, I ask you at least to value my assessment of the situation," he explained calmly but forcibly.

"They're more than suspicions," the Auror protested, his jaw tensed angrily. "I saw him helping the fugitive Rosier, and I have reason to believe he was an accomplice to the murder of the Black boy."

"Mr. Snape has asked for reprieve, and I have granted it," Dumbledore replied, standing up behind his desk to emphasize the power of his words.

"Reprieve?!" Moody repeated in great shock and disbelief. "So that's it, is it? There are no consequences for his actions? No price to be paid for his reckless disregard for human life?"

The headmaster turned his warm, patient eyes to Severus then and stared at him meaningfully. "I think that in the days and weeks and years to come, Severus will punish himself enough with his own guilt," he said evenly, clearly. "And that, Alastor, is far worse than any retribution we could seek for him."

It was clear, however, from the scowl that crossed Moody's lips that he was distinctly unconvinced of both Dumbledore's faith in Severus and in the power of the young man's conscience to torment him sufficiently. "Albus, this is madness! I cannot permit this to happen," he seethed. "He belongs in Azkaban."

Then, before anyone could stop him, the grizzled wizard had crossed the room and grabbed Severus viciously by the collar of his robes. A chorus of gasping noises resounded throughout the room as Moody raised his wand to Severus ominously. The hook-nosed young man flinched at the suddenness of his movements, and he cowered beneath the Auror, cheeks pale and eyes wide.

"You may have been able to convince Dumbledore, but I know better, Snape," Moody growled, shaking Severus with his every syllabus. "I know what you are, and I know what you've done!"

There was little else Severus could concentrate on in those moments besides the sparks shooting from Moody's wand and the way his eye whirled maniacally as he threatened him. There had been moments in the past in which Severus felt he was so close to Azkaban he could practically feel the chill of the dementors around him, but never before had the threat of prison seemed more real to him than now, as Mad-Eye Moody hovered menacingly above him. As a result, he was only faintly aware of the commotion rising in the room and of Lily Potter protesting the Auror's cruelty.

"James, stop him!" she cried urgently to her husband.

The next moment, James Potter and Arthur Weasley were prying Moody's fingertips from Severus' collar and trying to coax him into calm. It was only with great reluctance that Moody stepped back, still glaring, and his disfigured face contorted with a mixture of skepticism and loathing.

"Dumbledore can only protect you for so long," he barked, "and before this war is over, I will see to it that you're in Azkaban."

An awkward silence pervaded as the Auror made his way to a chair on the opposite side of the room. Although time had proven that Alastor Moody had nothing but respect for Albus Dumbledore, the scowl on his face served as a testament of his disapproval of the headmaster's decision. Moody's sentiment was not shared by the others, Severus quickly noted. Lily, for one, was watching him intently, trying to catch his eye as though to communicate her sympathy. He avoided her gaze and busied himself instead by straightening his robes. Her pity, coupled with the humiliation of being delivered from Moody by the duet of his childhood nemesis and the likes of Jane's mudblood-loving cousin, was too much to bear.

Of course, Lily's approval and Moody's lack thereof was of little consequence to Severus. Instead, it was the truth of the Auror's words that remained with him long after the headmaster cleared his throat and resumed conversation: As powerful a wizard as Dumbledore was, there was no guarantee he would be able to preserve Severus from a doom like Azkaban for long. And when that dreadful moment of truth arrived, Severus had a feeling that a fate far worse than prison awaited him.

Severus had a feeling that he would have the Dark Lord to reckon with.

* * *

Much to Severus' dismay, it was Lily Potter who led him to the quiet chamber in Slytherin House that Dumbledore had designated for his use later that evening. Severus said nothing as she showed him through the dark corridors, down stairs, and around corners. Lily tried to be kind to him, but she'd known him too long to think he might actually appreciate her soft words. In all their years at Hogwarts, there had been precious few people she had seen Severus respond positively to, and although she had tried on more than one occasion to befriend him, Lily was definitely not one of them.

The suite was large, comprised of a sitting area and a separate bedroom, and upon their entrance a fire was already roaring at the hearth, as if the room had been expecting them. Decked in emerald-coloured tapestries and ornate silver sconces, it was not unlike how Severus recalled the rooms he had shared with Rosier, Wilkes, Avery, and Rodolphus Lestrange. Comfortably, he strode to the center of the suite and stood before fireplace and waited for Lily to leave.

Lily lingered several more moments than Severus wished she had, lighting a candelabra or two on a table by the door and setting out some clean linens for him. He didn't thank her, and she didn't really expect him to. Such a gesture would be out of character for the Severus Snape she knew, so she worked quickly and quietly, secretly hoping as much as he did that she could just leave.

"Severus, I... I wanted to say I am so sorry about what the Death Eaters did to Jane and the baby," Lily told him when she had finished.

Severus only continued to stand, staring obstinately into the fire with his back to her. "Thank you for the sentiment, Mrs. Potter," he said brusquely.

His coldness only moved her to greater kindness. "Jane and I were quite good friends at school, if you remember," Lily continued gently. "You must know she cared very deeply for you."

If her words were meant to be comforting, they had failed miserably. Years later, Severus would still be unsure if he had been closer to sorrow or rage at Lily's persistence. Either way, he refused to tolerate her presence any longer. "Will that be all, Mrs. Potter?" he asked sharply, staring into the fireplace all the more intently.

Although he couldn't see her, Lily nodded, greatly subdued by his harshness, and started to retreat into the corridor once again. "Good night, Severus," she whispered as she closed the door behind her. "Do try to sleep."

But despite Lily's well wishes, Severus had anything but a good night, and when he did sleep, it was fitfully, jerking his eyes open amidst the nightmares in a desperate attempt to avoid the images and cries racing through his mind. Sometimes he would see Jane as the Death Eaters mocked her or as she lay dying in his arms. Sometimes he'd find himself in a cell in Azkaban or beneath dementors preparing for a Kiss, and still other times, there was the Dark Lord hovering over him, cackling wickedly as he raised his wand in Cruciatus to torture the traitor at his feet.

Needless to saw, on the third day - Sunday - Severus awoke feeling as wholly miserable as he had the previous morning. He looked down at the Dark Mark on his arm with revulsion. It had faded significantly by now, but its shadowy skull still lingered ominously on his pallid skin. Severus rubbed at it furiously, feverishly, as though in doing so he might be able to rub its loathsome form from his flesh. Get off me! he thought desperately as he assaulted his arm. Off! Off damned Mark! But the Mark remained, and Severus succeeded only in bruising himself in his furious attempts to rid himself of the symbol of his sins.

Arm throbbing, Severus took a seat at the desk in his chamber. There was only one way to purge him of his rage, of his vengeance, of his sins. He had pledged his services to Dumbledore, vowed to work from within the Dark Lord's ranks to destroy him. His determination to do so was no less now than it had been thirty-six hours before, when he'd carried Jane's lifeless to the castle. However, as Moody had warned, Dumbledore would not be able to protect him from the law forever, and so, withdrawing a parchment from the drawer of the drawers of the desk and dipping a quill in some ink, Severus set to work. He had to tell the headmaster everything he knew about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters while he still had the freedom to do so.

Bringing the quill to the parchment, Severus carefully scrawled a heading in his trademark small and precise handwriting:

The List of the Damned

There was no turning back now, no easy way out, and even if presented with a painless alternative, Severus would not have accepted it. He wanted and needed this chance for revenge too badly. Feverishly, the sallow-skinned wizard plagued his brain, racking his memory for all the faces and places and secrets he had suspected were associated with the Dark wizard he's called his master. Anyone or anything suspicious he'd seen while in the company of the Dark Lord would do, as they could all prove valuable leads for the Order of the Phoenix.

He started with naming Death Eaters. Their names piled up in his mind so quickly that his feeble hand could scarcely keep pace in recording them. There were the Malfoys and John Travers, Darien Mulciber and Barty Crouch, Jr. Considering his inability to forgive the senior Crouch for his participation in the trial that sent Circe Snape to Azkaban, Severus scrawled this last name with a bittersweet pleasure. He hesitated, though, with the names that came next: the Lestranges. Rabastan and Rodolphus and Bellatrix. They were his family, his own flesh and blood, and with a stroke of his hand, he was condemning them.

Severus' reluctance to doom his cousins, though, was a mere trifle compared the name he recorded next:

Darius Snape

Despite how cruel Darius had been to him over the years - despite how he had tormented and abused him, the man was his father, and Severus was loath to condemn him. Despite their differences, Pureblood families looked after their own, after all. Nonetheless, it had to be done; Darius had to be named if Severus was to be completely truthful, if he ever hoped to retain Dumbledore's trust. The headmaster knew the likes of Darius Snape too well not to at least suspect the man of Dark activity, and if Severus failed to name him, he would immediately raise suspicions of deceit. With retribution and Azkaban on the line, this was a risk he was not prepared to take.

Perhaps it was to assuage his conscience for betraying his cousins and father that Severus promptly scribbled one more name on the list:

Severus Ewan Snape

Severus paused here and examined his name carefully. It may have been the last name on the parchment, but it was far from the last name in his mind. As far as he was concerned, his name belonged there, amongst the vilest and most dangerous of all the Dark Lord's servants. If he was going to damn his own family, he was going to damn himself. Severus had made mistakes in his days - unforgivable ones at that - but let it not be said that he wasn't at least willing to own up to them, to take his place among those whom he damned.

But there was more Severus to reveal. There were the places - the meeting spots he'd seen or heard about. The old Riddle house. The castle the Malfoys provided. The Forbidden Forest. And then there were the secrets - so many to enumerate. How the Dark Lord used Legilimency to learn the secrets of his followers, how he used the Imperious Curse to control the reluctant, and the ultimate goals he had for ousting Dumbledore and expelling the Ministry.

Severus had written several feet of the few details he'd been privy to during his years in the Dark Lord's service. He didn't stop until his hand quaked with cramps from the writing and the candles on the desk were melted down into nothing more than stubs. With an odd sense of satisfaction, he reviewed the contents of his list. By his own hand, he'd damned the Dark Lord and numerous Death Eaters.

More importantly, though, by his own hand and of his own free will, Severus Snape had damned himself.

* * * * *