The Stressful Life of Severus Snape

Twelve o'clock.

Along the reaches of the street

Held in lunar synthesis,

Whispering lunar incantations

Dissolve the floors of memory

And all its clear relations

Its divisions and precisions,

Every street lamp that I pass

Beats like a fatalistic drum,

And through the spaces of the dark

Midnight shakes the memory

As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Half-past one,

The street-lamp sputtered,

The street-lamp muttered,

The street-lamp said, "Regard that woman

Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door

Which opens on her like a grin.

You see the border of her dress

Is torn and stained with sand,

And you see the corner of her eyes

Twists like a crooked pin."

The memory throws up high and dry

A crowd of twisted things;

A twisted branch upon the beach

Eaten smooth, and polished

As if the world gave up

The secret of its skeleton,

Stiff and white.

A broken spring in a factory yard,

Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left

Hard and curled and ready to snap.

November 19, 1981

Catherine Morris smoothed the covers of the white hospital bed yet again as she bustled bout the room. The Healer of Saint Mungos was still surprised, even after two years of being a healer, that room could get so messy even when the occupant was unconscious or in a different state of mind.

Sirius Black was still sleeping. How much of a difference was that compared to yesterday? Catherine noted that he was turned on his right side, one arm stretched upward into a pillow, the other shielding his pale face. His mouth was slightly open. That would be three Knuts won from Margaret. The betting on how patients were sleeping for a day was starting to add into wallets.

One month quickly passed since Sirius' attempt to rescue Harry from falling into the care of whomever Dumbledore had chosen. Sirius was still unconscious from the fight with his own cousin.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Catherine quickly spun around. Albus Dumbledore smiled at her and she grinned back. Memories of three years ago came to mind. She had been a Hufflepuff naturally- intelligent but more loyal.

"May I visit Mr. Black?"

"There's no point, Headmaster," she answered, looking at Sirius. His arm twitched slightly. "He hasn't woken yet. However, we have been trying to get him to drink an energy potion, which should help him.

"Still, I would like to, Miss Morris." She nodded, fixed the vase on the bedside table, and walked swiftly out. Dumbledore shut the door after her.

Taking a seat next to the bed on a red chair, he kept his eyes trained on Sirius. The dark-haired man twitched suddenly, and there was a slight groan. His gray eyes opened slightly, blinked a few times, and widened.

"Where am I?" he asked. He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain, Dumbledore's hand instinctively flew to the call button one pressed when someone was ill, but paused as Sirius nestled back into the cover of the blankets. "Who are you?"

"Albus Dumbledore," he replied nonchalantly. From his experience with students passing out, he was used to that question starting their recovery.

"Who?" Sirius replied faintly, squinting at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore repeated his name, but broke off halfway through. "Can you remember who you are?" he asked, worrying.

Sirius's eyebrows wrinkled as he thought. His bottom lip disappeared into his teeth, and he answered slowly, "I'm not sure."

November 19, 1981

Dumbledore walked quickly up the walk between the gates to Hogwarts. He did not bother with the thestrals, and was set on talking to their newly acquired professor, Severus Snape.

Luckily for him, the walk was cut off by a black cloaked figure walking into him.

"Headmaster," Severus acknowledged, inclining his head slightly.

"Severus," Dumbledore quickly responded. "I need to ask you a favor." It is best for Sirius, he thought, trying to control his thoughts. And Harry. Think about Harry. His mind switched to Harry, who was with his aunt and uncle now, in Surrey. It's only one question. And it's only to Severus. And hopefully he won't remember the past... as Sirius can't.

"You heard about the attack on Sirius when he was trying to find Harry Potter at Godric's Hallow." This was merely stated, not asked. Snape froze, eyes foxed on Dumbledore.

"Yes, I do," he answered in an odd voice.

"Then you know that a curse was inflicted upon Sirius by his cousin." Snape nodded again, clearly wondering where this was going.

Dumbledore took a breath. "I have just gone to visit Mr. Black. So far, he seems in perfectly good health. Well, physically. However, I noticed something as he and I were conversing.

He took in a gulp of air as Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering what could have happened to his rival.

"He has amnesia, Severus."

Poem by T. S. Eliot