A crime to outlive him

A crime to outlive him, part 9
By F.P.Barbieri

Part 9 - epilogue

"Wow," said Hermione thoughtfully.

She was tempted to ask Harry how he felt about it, but thought better of it. His feelings could be read in his face; and the question was at any rate commonplace and unhelpful.

When Harry came to her with a big problem, like now, it was because he expected her to help. He had come, she knew, to have an almost superstitious regard for her learning and insight; and right now she wished she had not impressed him like that. What was she supposed to say or do that would help in a situation like this?

Harry seemed to read her mind. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I had no business laying this on you on top of everything else. Don't think about it any more." And he turned, as if to go.

"NO!" said Hermione urgently. Whatever happened, she did not want to leave Harry alone. She had hoped not to see him again as she was seeing him now - so crushed, and so tempted to just run away from it all and hide. It was not only because Voldemort was a monster that she had worked so hard to destroy him, but so that the cloud might lift from her best friend, that he might at last have a normal life. And now... it was like the bad old days again, but worse. Her protective reaction was instinctive.

"Please, Harry," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "don't run away again. Of course I will think about it. Of course I will try and help. The only thing is, I'm afraid I might not do any good... but is that any reason not to try?"

Harry stayed; or rather, they started walking together, in silence. Hermione collected her thoughts.

"I assume that you rejected the very idea?"

"Rejected? Well, of course I... What do you mean?"

"I mean that, so far as I can remember... what you wanted to do is not necessarily illegal under wizarding law." And Hermione fell into an embarrassed silence.

"Are you out of your mind? Hermione, do you realize what you are saying?"

"I am pretty sure that wizarding law allows for cases like yours... Please, Harry, give me a moment. I am trying to remember what I read about it."

Harry looked for a second as if he might explode. Controlling his temper with a visible effort, he eventually formed his rejoinder: "Even if I was to forget about Ginny... and I owe her more than I can repay, and I made her promises I would not think of breaking ... and I bloody well do love her and always have... Hermione, how can you possibly say this? How can wizarding law possibly ignore incest?"

"It does not. You should ask a law-wizard, but to the way I recall it, people who have been separated from each other at birth or in early childhood do not fall under the sanction for incest."

Hermione went on thoughtfully: "As I remember, incest falls under the prohibition on all practices known as the left-hand path. We should have studied it in fifth year, but you remember Umbridge and her new and improved syllabus... The left-hand path is the path of dark magic, not merely as a tool, but as a way of life. And all kinds of illicit sex are a major part of it."

"I think I understand... Didn't I read something about Tantric practices being like that?"

"Exactly, Harry. And incest is forbidden because it opens the left-hand path. It makes you strong in the left-hand path. There are cases of sorcerers who have deliberately seduced their own siblings or parents or children to open stores of dark power. And it has to be seduction, it cannot be just force... Because the basis of magic is in right affection and right knowledge, it is the distortion of affection and knowledge that lead to the left-hand way."

"But..."

"Well, you did not set out with your mother to break any laws, did you? You were not out to raise destructive powers or open yourselves a road to the wisdom of darkness - the kind that Eumelos the Immortal did?"

"Well, no... we were hardly thinking, were we?"

"And the moment you realized what you were doing, you were scared of it. That is not someone taking the left-hand path. You did not do it; you barely thought about it, and as soon as you did, you both nearly killed yourselves running away from the thought. That is hardly the search for the Empire of the Left Hand. No wizarding court would touch you."

Harry was losing interest and getting impatient.

"Look, I know that we were not going to do it. You don't have to tell me that I had not set out to seduce my own mother with the intention of becoming a super-dark wizard. I know all that. What is eating at me is simply this: how on Earth could she and I even think of it? Where the Hell did this monstrosity come from? Am I some kind of pervert?"

Harry stopped to breathe, and then went on: "It's not as though I did not feel that she was my mother. From the moment I saw her, I had this sense that the missing part of my life had come back. I would have known who she was even if I had met her on the road. And haven't I seen hundreds of wizard photographs of her? There was not one second since she came back in which I have not felt it. And in spite of that, I found myself lusting after her. It makes me sick, Hermione."

"I see. Well, I don't think you are a pervert. In fact, now that I think of it, I read of cases like yours.

"I should have thought of it before, actually. I read about it somewhere a few years ago - there was a whole big article in a Muggle newspaper, and it was followed by a lot of correspondence. My parents discussed it when they thought I wasn't listening. It does happen. When close kin who have been separated at birth are brought back together as adults, they do sometimes feel an all but irresistible attraction to each other. It is regular enough that it even has a big name - genetic conditioned attraction, or some such. It happens even with people of the same sex."

"I wish I'd known about this before, then" said Harry in a surly tone.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but what could I do? Even if I had remembered it - some article I read in some Muggle newspaper in my fifth year? Tell you to lay off your mother, because you might end up being attracted to her? You would not have listened, and you would have been right."

"OH, damn... Oh heck, you're right. I'm just angry because it seems to go on and on, and I feel trapped. But you are right... I was just itching for someone to shout to, and that is wrong. I should have learned that, at least."

There was a silence. "You know why I even remember that article, Harry? I read it on the day Dumbledore vanished and Umbridge was appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts. I was reading anything that came to hand, to keep my mind away. And I thought, you know, there's the explanation for Umbridge... if her parents, grandparents and great-grandparents had all been the victims of this attraction."

Harry laughed. "Or else followers of the left-hand path."

"There is that," said Hermione, grinning. "Come to think of it, Umbridge's looks do seem to indicate a severely damaged genetic heritage." Both friends laughed out loud.

It was at that point that an owl landed in front of them. Looking steadily at Harry, it raised its leg, showing a letter. Harry thanked it, took the letter, and unfolded it.

Potter - or, I should say from now on, Dear Harry:

After this morning's events, you may be less surprised than you would otherwise be, to hear that your mother and I intend to marry. In spite of the circumstances, I may say that I am extremely happy, and that I intend to make your mother as happy as is within my power to do.

Unfortunately, events impose on us certain kinds of precaution. Your mother feels it would be wise, even though she loves you dearly, to reduce contact to a minimum. I imagine you see her reasons to think so.

However, it seems to me necessary to avoid rumours and speculation. We should, at least, attend each other's weddings; and you may regard this letter as a formal invitation to mine. At these functions, we should strive to show a united and mutually understanding face to the world. I can think of two dozen reasons why it would not be a good idea to let wizarding world believe that there is a breach between you and me, or, even worse, between you and your mother.

I wish you joy of your marriage with Miss Ginevra Weasley. In my experience, most of what they say about red-haired women is quite true. And if it is the case, as is rumoured around, that she is the only person who can silence you, then she deserves a medal.

Looking forward to your presence at my wedding, and mine at yours, I remain

Sincerely yours

Severus Ulpius Snape.

"Wow," said Harry to Hermione after both had read it in silence. Hermione said nothing, but looked at him with a questioning look.

"I guess my mother has taken her own measures. I'll tell you, Hermione... I knew since last night that there had been something between her and Snape. And thinking about it now, I think... I find it... less unpleasant than you would think. After all... I have known for a while that I had to rethink my feelings about Snape... the man was nearly killed for our side... but at the same time, if my mother wanted to find a way to keep me away from her, I would say this is a good one." He stopped for a second, then started again. "It's like finding that a deadly poison has been placed beyond my reach when I was afraid I might be charmed into drinking it."

"Are you relieved, then?"

"In a sense... one of the things I feel. Let down, a bit, and rather flat, and even a bit angry at myself... and a strange sort of laughter somewhere. But mainly, yes, I would say, I do feel relieved."

"So you see, you did not want it. You regard it as a deadly poison. Why blame yourself?"

Harry was silent for a little while. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I don't think it's as simple as that. You say that I did not want it and that was that. I say that I could find it very easy to want it. That is my feeling. How can I say it? What I am trying to say is... I could slip into a frame of mind where I want it and I work to achieve it and the question whether it is right or not simply does not arise. That frame of mind is there. I know it is. I know that I could pursue my mother with no more care than if it was any other beautiful woman."

"But you don't!"

"But I could. I could easily."

"You don't. As a matter of fact, you don't pursue women at all. I know you, Harry! I have lived with you for seven years now. And I am a woman, if you don't mind! I know how you look at women. You have always divided us into two unequal halves: the one person you were in love with, and all the rest. Where lust is concerned, the rest just did not exist. Even when you were dumped and unhappy, the last thing you did was to go out and look for fun. If you had wanted it, you would have found it easily. Every second or third girl in Hogwarts would have worn a night with you like a jewel in her crown. You just did not want it. As a matter of fact, you were terrified of women - you could only ever find one desirable if you were in love with her already.

"So why are you talking to me as if you could just walk out of here and into the nearest singles bar? You know who you are, Harry. You know you could not."

"Pardon me, Hermione," said Harry irritably, "but I know what I feel. And that was then and this is now.

"I don't think I have explained what I felt... what I think. When you desire something - desire it badly, I mean, lust after it - the whole of reality shifts in your mind. Everything that is in the way simply does not exist any more. It does not get noticed. Think of Mundungus and his little deals. Why does he go on like that? Because he is in lust with the idea of easy money. Every time he sees the opportunity of dishonest gain, he simply forgets everything else. That is what lust is like. That is why I say that I know that I could commit incest with my mother this minute, and I would want it, and I would step over anything that stood in the way. I know it, Hermione. This thing is inside myself. I only need to turn my sight in its direction, and I shall want it worse than I want to breathe.

"That is desire. That is lust. And that is what I am afraid of, because I know it is there. And I know that my mother knows it too. We saw it in each other's eyes, the moment we kissed."

"But you will not consent to it."

"No... I hope not. I hope I don't ever forget it."

"Well, then, what I said stands. You did not want this. You did not look for it. And so far as you can choose, you have chosen to resist it. So what is wrong with saying that you did not want it, you were not responsible for it, and you should not feel guilty about it? Anyway, wizarding law at least would not condemn you."

Hermione did not want to let Harry's mind wander through the same paths again. She had a nasty feeling that he was looking for reasons to incriminate himself, to strengthen the irrational sense of guilt crawling through his nervous system. Rather than allow that, she would talk until they were both asleep.

"I have been remembering various things I learned at various places in History of Magic and other things, and your case is not actually so uncommon. I have four or five instances in mind, which means that there must have been thousands. It is easy enough, after all, it often happens during feuds between wizards: someone abducts someone else's children. If you are a really sick bastard, you can sacrifice them or use them in dark magic; but at the very least, you can make sure that your enemies will not have any known descendants. And what with memory spells and identity enchantments, it is easy to make anyone forget anything you want to - including their parentage and families. If the genealogical trees of old wizarding families could talk, they could tell some curious stories."

"Voldemort did not make my mother forget who she was."

"I know. That was peculiarly vile. He just relied on changing her brain into a snake's, didn't he, so that the agony itself would overwhelm her? I never heard of anyone thinking of that before him. Sick bastard, with a vengeance."

Harry was silent. Hermione had not seen the terrible scene when he had been foolish enough to ask his mother about her time as a snake - her complete loss of control, her literal attempt to crack her skull open so the memories could be dashed out of it. What she said, she said from mere theory - and yet she had got it right. It was a peculiarly vile crime, and it was impossible to imagine the mind capable of conceiving such a thing.

"I have often wondered," said Hermione softly, "whether we are not becoming worse and worse - all of us, wizards and Muggles. History so often seems nothing more than an accumulation of crimes and horrors. It is as if every page showed some advance in evil - the discovery of the Cruciatus in one, the first making of house-elves in another."

Hermione's words impacted with his thoughts, his memories of his mother's pain, and the ghastly wonder of Voldemort's new invention. He realized that he knew, as certainly as if he had seen it happen, that involuntary transformation into animals was going to be performed by someone else... and then by someone else... and then by someone else again. Until it became a standard of Dark Wizards and magical villains - like Crucio and Imperio were now. After all, there was a time when the Cruciatus curse was unknown. Vivian the Great was famous for inventing it. That means that nobody knew how to perform it before him. Perhaps Merlin, from whom Vivian had stolen all his craft, had understood how it could be made to work... but Merlin had been too noble and too powerful for such things. But these things had an origin; someone must have thought of them first.

"I see what you mean, Hermione. But I do not think we are getting any worse."

"No? How do you mean?"

"I mean that if you went back in time, as long as there were people... and wizards... you would find the same thing. You would find someone discovering something new, for the first time; and then you would find someone - possibly even the same person - thinking up some ugly, diabolical use for the new discovery. I mean, power may grow, but man is always the same. Someone is always doing something for the first time, and someone is always corrupting it."

"For the first time..." repeated Hermione thoughtfully.

"You see, Hermione, someone has to have thought it first. Someone has to have invented the Cruciatus curse, or Voldemort's snake transformation, or Snape's sectumsempra - if that was his. And that is not different. In each case, someone thought of something peculiarly evil and depraved that had not been thought of before. A man makes an advance in magic, and another perverts it. Always. Always. Always. We are just stuck in the same everlasting present, with the same everlasting stinking greed and hate and fear eating at our brains and leading us down the everlasting same old stinking path."

"Yes, I see what you mean. The circumstances change, but the mind of people does not improve."

"Or worsen. You know, I had hoped I could change something by stopping Voldemort."

"Don't think that! You have done a lot of good. Think of what the future would have been like if he had been allowed to go on..."

"I know. I mean, Hermione, I am not putting myself down. I appreciate that what I have done has been for the general good. But I always felt unhappy with all the talk people made about me - the boy who lived - the chosen one - the saviour of wizardkind - and now I know why. They were making me something I am not. I have not done anything to change the wizarding world. The evil is still there. Someone else will come along in the future and do something that not even Voldemort had thought of; and meanwhile we are all busy with our little evils, our little rebellions, all the ordinary rubbish that we tolerate in ourselves - but not in others.

"There is a Muggle concept I had never understood before, called Original Sin. I think I can understand it now... the idea of being born in sin. Because, if you look at the world as it is and people as they are, you can almost see it happen. Evil just flows along every line of growth. Think about it. My relationship with my mother has been completely screwed up by Voldemort - and you tell me this is something that often happens among wizards. So now we are in a situation where we could only do each other harm if we ever came back together - and that comes from something that neither of us was in the least little bit responsible for. And yet we are paying for it, we are being punished for it. And Voldemort himself - where did all the evil in him come from? Dumbledore found it ready made in miniature in the orphanage, and never managed to shake Riddle even slightly away from it. Was it born with him? Was it some result of having been left in an orphanage, or did it somehow come from the pride and arrogance and cruelty of the Riddles and the Gaunts - of both sides of his family? And if that is the case, where do we stop? Did the Gaunts start to go wrong with Slytherin, their great ancestor? And what was it that made him go wrong, if so?"

"I know what you mean, Harry. There seems to be no end to it. You cannot get back to a period when things were really 'normal' in any real sense. It is as if the veins of history flowed with poison."

"And it is not only that. You tell me that the lust my mother and I felt for each other is something natural - something that springs often and naturally, when a natural relationship has somehow been disrupted. Think about it, Hermione - it is natural. So the natural reaction of a human being to some disarrangement, some misfortune... can be something that is wrong in itself, and criminal, and can only spread misery. I mean, it does not have to be crime or war that separates close kin - it could be any kind of innocent misfortune. You may think the child you love is dead, and someone else finds him and keeps him alive; and twenty years later you meet again for the first time. And if you are right, you could have the same... experience... as my mother and I. And nobody has done anything wrong at all, but if you once surrender to lust, then wrong is just what you will be doing. So a natural reaction can produce evil by itself? This is what we are, my dear, dear friend... something wrong can come out of us even if we had never intended it, purely as a result of events."

"I see. So you think there is something evil in our nature? I... I think I agree."

"Something. I have known so many wonderful people... you and the Weasleys and Dumbledore and McGonagall and Kingsley and Remus and Tonks... and believe me, I am sensitive to goodness. Ever since Hagrid came and set me free from the Dursleys, goodness and decency have been like air and life and breath to me. It is so important that they should be preserved. But I guess I have a clearer idea, now, of why and how it is so difficult and so important to preserve them."

END OF THE STORY.