Dark Gods in the Blood

Chapter Fifteen

... it had caressed him and -- lo! -- he had withered; it had

taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins,

consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the

inconceivable ceremonies of some devilish initiation. He

was its spoiled and pampered favorite.

-- Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Old Jack was in rare form this afternoon. Apparently not satisfied with simply sitting quietly at luncheon and looking menacing, Jack had gone from his usual semblance of near-catatonia to a veritable whirlwind of activity, smashing lunch trays, throwing food, even going so far as to attack a nurse, leaping at her with tooth and nail. One Petrificus Totalus later, of course, found Jack completely incapacitated, and the orderlies had quickly removed him. Severus knew, based on experience, that Jack would be confined to his room for the next week at least. His meals would be delivered and if his behavior did not improve, they would actually bind him to the bed with restraints.

Sighing, Severus wiped a glob of some indefinable foodstuff from his brow. At least now that his lunch had been fairly obliterated by Old Jack's furor -- he had taken to sitting near the man as of late -- he had an excuse to abandon it.

He left the cafeteria.

"Where are you headed, Severus?" one of the male orderlies asked with false cheer as he stepped into the doorway to block Severus' path. "Dinner isn't over." He was quite literally the size of a small bull, barrel-chested and broad-shouldered. Severus did not like the smile on his face.

With another sigh, he indicated his messy clothing, liberally dabbed with remnants of Old Jack's projectiles. "I would like to change," he said pointedly. "Also, if I am permitted, I would like to shower."

The orderly smirked -- Severus thought he dimly recognized the face of a Slytherin student he'd taught some twenty years ago in the man's features. "Of course," he said mockingly, stepping aside to allow Severus to pass.

Wordlessly, he proceeded to the showers, dropping his scrubs distastefully into a bin full of dirty clothing in the dressing room.

The air in the shower was sticky, full of humidity from previous patients taking their morning turns. A greasy film of soap coated the tiled room, a row of showerheads lining every wall. There were no curtains, of course; Severus generally tried to bathe only when he knew he could have the shower to himself and the staff, after some initial protests, allowed him the small luxury.

He turned on the water at one of the spouts and stepped under the cold spray, letting it cool the back of his bare neck.

The whole room stank of sweat and it made Severus feel dirty.

Reaching out blindly, water flooding his vision, his fingers found the automatic dispenser near the water knobs. Soap shot out of the machine and into his hand at his touch; he scrubbed it into his hair viciously. No shampoo for lunatics, he reflected as the industrial scent wafted up his nostrils.

After finishing up and shutting off the water, he padded back over to the dressing room, drippy and naked. A bin of clean towels sat on the left-hand side of the doorway and he took one, briskly running it over his skin. Still quite damp and little rivulets of water running down his back from his admittedly soggy hair, Severus turned around to the bins of scrubs. Hundreds of colorless Muggle-style shirts and trousers, shapeless and thin from innumerable washings.

Severus gave his head one last swipe with the towel and tossed it over into the dirty clothes bin sitting across the room. Sorting briefly through the mass of cloth, he plucked out a set of scrubs that looked as if they would fit him as well as any of them might. Water from his hair spotted the shirt as he pulled it over his head.

The outside door to the dressing room suddenly opened. "Oi!" a male voice shouted. It was that same Slytherin student from earlier. "Severus? You in there?"

He sighed. "Yes?"

"Budge up," it continued in a rough voice. "You've got a visitor waiting for you. A lady, Marcy said." He could hear the grin in its voice and longed to be able to do something to remove it.

Unwilling to court trouble, Severus simply continued dressing, making his way toward the orderly as soon as he was clothed. The wet hair in his eyes was only mildly annoying -- the fact that it was a testament to his managing to evade the hairdresser last week more than made up for any potential irritation.

The burly orderly frowned at his appearance. "You look like a drowned rat, Severus. When's the last time they cut your hair?"

He did not bother to respond, choosing instead to begin walking down the hallway, toward the visitation rooms. The orderly did not follow.

A lady, the former Slytherin had said. And unless he'd garnered far more admiration during his teaching career than he surmised, that only meant that Granger was back.

Severus grimaced. Last week she'd asked about Albus. But she hadn't pushed the issue when he was evasive. This time, he probably would not be so lucky.

As he watched his feet shuffle down the corridor, he mulled it over. What harm could there be in telling Granger the truth? It couldn't hurt him. It might affect her opinion of Albus, of course -- he was unsure exactly what she thought of her old headmaster -- but Severus had never cared much about what people thought of Albus before.

Besides, it would be somewhat of a relief to finally be able to tell someone. For more than forty years, he'd not told a soul. Not even Minerva McGonagall knew, and she'd been at Hogwarts and known Albus for Severus' entire life. More than, probably.

It seemed perversely pleasant to be able to break Albus' trust after all this time.

It was decided then, he realized as he laid his hand on the doorknob between himself and Granger.

He would tell her. He would tell her the truth.

-- -- -- -- --

She did not pull her punches. "It is another day," she said abruptly as he sat down.

Severus blinked, not immediately understanding her meaning. And then he had it. Ask me again one day, he'd said as she left last time. "You wish to ask me once more?"

Nodding, Granger's face was rapt with attention.

For a brief, shining moment, he nearly refused again. Refused and insulted her so badly that she'd go away and never come back.

But then he recalled his earlier resolve and reined his impulse into check. "What do you know about Albus?" he asked, unsure as to whether he was looking for a place to start his narrative or simply evading her yet again.

Granger frowned, concentrating. "He's very old," she said. Apparently she hadn't meant to say this aloud, as she blushed immediately. "Erm ... I mean ..."

"He is," Severus found himself agreeing in what could almost pass for a civil tone. "He is one-hundred-eighty-one years of age."

Accepting his gesture, she continued. "And I know he taught at Hogwarts as early as the 1940's. Harry once said that he saw him in Tom Riddle's old diary. He had red hair ..." Granger trailed off for a moment, either thinking or dreaming. "He knew Nicholas Flamel well enough to help him with the philosopher's stone Flamel had. And, of course, they were after him for Minister of Magic many years ago -- I don't know if they still are. And he battled Grindelwald." She concluded her list briskly. "Oh ... and he has a brother. Or, at least, he did. Harry said something about Dumbledore's brother and, what was it? A sheep?"

Severus smirked, recalling that particular incident. "A goat, actually. Albus does like to bait his brother about it whenever he gets a chance."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. And then, more firmly --"That's all I know about him. Not much, really, when you consider everything he's done."

"Well ..." he said, tilting back in his chair. "The Dumbledore family is a fairly old one. Not particularly pureblooded, as wizarding families go, but they've had their moments of importance. Albus does indeed have a brother. Aberforth is many years younger than Albus -- close to thirty, I think. He was ..." Severus permitted himself a grim sort of smile. " ... an unexpected child to say the least. Albus' mother was more than fifty when Aberforth and his twin were born."

Her brow furrowed. "Professor Dumbledore has another brother?"

"Not a brother," he corrected. "A sister, actually. Albertina -- their mother had a fondness for names beginning with the letter 'A.'" He saw Granger smile broadly. "I suppose most people wouldn't know about her, though," he conceded. "She and Albus were fairly close -- as close as a brother and sister with thirty years between them can be, at any rate. If I remember correctly, he actually presided over her wedding -- he was with the Ministry at that point. But they lost contact for many years. Albertina and her husband inherited his father's estate -- he was a Muggleborn, you see -- and retreated from the wizarding world. The estate, by all accounts, had fallen into disrepair. But they made a few rather clever investments and -- while never truly wealthy -- they were able to enjoy some degree of comfort.

"Between the interim, Albertina had a single child -- a daughter. But she had not been in touch with her brothers for many years and her parents were long dead. So I expect Albus was quite surprised one year when the girl showed up at Hogwarts. It was 1925, I believe. Or thereabouts. Albertina and John -- that was his name, John Darcy -- tried to have children for many years without success, so their daughter was born very late in their lives. She had grown up quite isolated on their country estate.

"Agrippina Darcy -- that's the daughter, Albus' niece -- was a curious sort of person," he said slowly, trying to settle on a gentle phrase to satisfy Granger's hungry curiosity. He closed his eyes, trying to remember her face and failing, as usual. "Recall, Miss Granger, that she had spent the first ten years of her life living as a Muggle. A Muggle who, incidentally, came from a formerly noble, wealthy family that was now reduced to living in a crumbling old mansion with only enough money to support a lifestyle that she was beginning to see as bourgeois."

He held her complete attention, now. Severus could see the question in her eyes -- what does this have to do with you?

"Thus, not only was Albus surprised to learn of the existence of his niece, he was absolutely shocked that the child of his beloved, gentle sister was Sorted into Slytherin without so much as a pause. The Hat barely had to touch her head. Agrippina wanted only one thing in the world at that point in her life -- the restoration of honor and wealth to the Darcy name. And the Hat knew that she would have done anything to see it happen.

"Agrippina was at Hogwarts a good twenty years before Voldemort," he said, hesitating only slightly on the Dark Lord's name. "But the pureblood fanaticism was already permeating the school. It had always been an undercurrent, of course -- Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor themselves had a major falling-out over the issue."

Granger's gaze was reproachful and Severus felt the urge to defend Slytherin bubbling up in his gut -- weakly, he gave in to it, diverging from his story long enough only to glare at her and say,

"Miss Granger, consider the fact that the Founders lived more than a thousand years ago. Slytherin did not hate Muggles -- he saw them as a threat to wizarding society." He felt himself slipping into lecture mode and his hands itched for a piece of chalk. "Muggle society in pre-Norman Britain was a brutal blend of Christianity and Saxon factionalism. Muggle awareness of a wizarding presence would have meant all-out war, Miss Granger. Surely you can see that."

The grudging glint in her eyes confirmed it, but she till protested. "Muggle awareness, certainly. But is that any reason for full discrimination?"

"Gryffindor was the son of two wizards, Miss Granger," he continued. "Raised in a wizarding enclave. He knew nothing of Muggle society and, to be honest, they fascinated him. His desire to include them stemmed more from curiosity than any sense of compassion. But Slytherin's mother was a Muggleborn witch, half-trained in her arts, and worked as a midwife in a Muggle village. She was stabbed and beaten to death in front of him when he was a child -- angry villagers that saw her arts as devil-worshipping witchcraft. He knew what sort of mentality ninth-century Muggleborns were likely to have and how they would react to the knowledge of the existence of wizards."

Her expression was still skeptical, but he could tell that his revelation about Slytherin's background had surprised her. He dimly recalled that she was a Muggleborn and felt the need to continue.

"Miss Granger," he said, not unkindly, "I am not attempting to justify pureblood discrimination, and certainly not in this more enlightened time. I simply wanted you to understand the context of Slytherin's belief. It was more fear than hatred -- fear that Muggleborn students could not overcome their preconceived notions based on a society that has long since gone to dust. And while his concerns are now baseless, for the most part, during his time, they may have had some merit."

"I know," she replied. "It's just ... I hadn't ever considered it from that perspective."

Severus cleared his throat. "Anyway ... back to your initial question. Agrippina, as a half-blood thrown into Slytherin house at a time when these prejudices were rearing their ugly head, found her focus shifting. Instead of wanting to restore the former glory of her father's Muggle family, she became obsessed with the purity of blood. She saw herself as tainted and grew to resent both her parents -- her father, simply for what he was, and her mother, for besmirching the Dumbledore name with Muggle blood. Of course she knew, by that time, that the Transfigurations teacher was her uncle, but she did not seem to care. Albus did not have a strong relationship with her.

"It should not be surprising to you, then, that Agrippina set her sights on marrying into the oldest, purest wizarding family that would have her. She was pragmatic -- her 'dirty' blood would keep her from the most noble -- but she was not turned from her task and spent most of her time at Hogwarts, apart from coursework, hunting for a potential husband. Whether or not Albus noticed this -- or, if he did, whether he mentioned it to Albertina -- I do not know.

"In her seventh year, when she was growing most desperate, Agrippina finally met a worthwhile candidate. Actually, she met his brother. Her future husband's brother was a first-year Ravenclaw that she saw one day being bullied by a pair of sixth-year boys. She ran the boys off -- more with hopes of points for Slytherin in mind than any actual concern over the Ravenclaw's well-being, I am sure -- and saw the injured child to the infirmary. In so doing, she learned his name. Tertius Snape."

Granger gasped and Severus snorted with laughter.

"Had you not guessed it yet, Granger? You should be ashamed." Smirking at her reproachful glare, he continued blandly. "Tertius was grateful for the attention and, in turn, then, told her everything she wanted to know. She was his friend, I think, when it suited her purposes.

"The Snape family was indeed old, just as Agrippina wanted. And as pureblooded as they come. Unfortunately, the Snapes were not, as she had hoped, particularly wealthy. Tertius' great-grandfather ran through the last of the fortune in his lifetime, leaving his widow with a useless castle and a stack of gambling debts. The castle had been sold by Tertius' father once they were unable to afford the upkeep and thus the Snapes, much to Agrippina's horror, were very nearly middle-class. Tertius' older brothers -- of which there were, predictably, I suppose, two -- were both actually employed. Primus, the eldest, had established a fair name for himself at Gringotts,' but he was also, regrettably, married.

"It was the younger brother, Secundus, who Agrippina found herself asking about. Secundus, an apothecary who worked in a shop in Diagon Alley, save his abominable state of near-poverty, had the qualities she sought. He was pureblooded, from a respectable family, and blissfully unmarried. Even the age difference -- a mere fifteen years -- was quite acceptable to her."

Granger shocked him here by interrupting his monologue. "Why didn't she marry Tertius?"

Severus shrugged. "Who can say? Perhaps she could not see anything in him but a little boy, eager to please his friend. I like to think that maybe she did not want to corrupt him by involving him in her little scheme -- that she genuinely liked him. But I must be realistic -- the truth is that Agrippina was a rather beautiful young woman and as soon as she walked into Secundus' shop later that year, he wanted her. She captivated him and he proposed to her before she even finished at Hogwarts. They married not two months after she graduated.

"But they realized an important fact not long after the wedding -- they did not like each other. Agrippina hated that Secundus had to work and Secundus resented that Agrippina carried on with her lifestyle as if he did not. The bills piled up and they were deep in debt before they were wed for five years -- she bought a lavish home, had it fully furnished, entertained her friends on almost a daily basis, lived as extravagantly as if she had married a prince instead of a poor potions brewer. As a consequence," he said, pausing partially to breathe but mostly for effect, "I was not born until my parents had been married for nearly twenty-five years."

"Then ..." Granger began haltingly. "Then Albus Dumbledore is your ..."

"My great-uncle," he completed for her. "Yes."

He relished the look on her face -- bewilderment, amazement, and curiosity a delightful blend in her eyes. "But ..." she spluttered for a moment. "But you don't look anything like him!"

Taken aback, Severus actually allowed a rather genuine laugh to escape. "I can assure you, Miss Granger, that it is true. In fact, if you can manage to find a photograph of my uncle Aberforth, you will find that we have identical noses. I am also told that my hands are very like my grandmother Albertina's."

She was silent, still staring at him with wide eyes.

"I was largely disregarded as a child, Miss Granger," he said, continuing the tale. After all, she had asked not only what relationship Albus had to him, but exactly why he was his next-of-kin, on paper as the closest relative he had. "That is to be expected -- my parents' relationship had degenerated terribly and my earliest recollections are of them fighting. I was trotted out when it was prudent to display their son but otherwise left in the hands of a nurse. Until I was four, at least."

Again, he paused. "I am not entirely sure why my mother killed herself that year," he said, more thoughtful than sad.

Granger's eyes rounded. "She killed herself?" Her voice went up a note.

"I remember the funeral," he said, losing himself in the memory and only half-remembering Granger sitting in the chair across the table from him. "My nurse dressed me in hot, scratchy robes of black velvet, and I had to stand beside my father in the rain as Albus spoke over my mother's grave. I don't know why he was the one to officiate -- possibly out of some misguided sense of obligation to my grandmother, who died long before I was born. That was the first time I ever laid eyes on him. But my father did not permit me to speak to anyone at the funeral and took me back home as soon as it was through."

His voice shifted slightly as the tale changed, turning into true memory rather than story, and the urge to scratch out pertinent dates and names on a chalkboard at his back faded. "My father was not a bad fellow, Miss Granger. He was, however, not a wonderful father. After my mother's death, he seemed to realize he had a son. He dismissed my mother's servants and sold her house -- we moved into the empty flat over his apothecary shop, just the two of us. I was left to my own devices for the most part, allowed to roam Diagon Alley during the day while my father worked. I spent most of my time in the book shop, reading -- the owner knew I could not afford any of her books and so she indulged me. I suppose ..." He offered her a self-deprecating smile here. "I suppose the fact that I was probably one of the more homely children she'd ever seen helped."

Granger did not reply.

"Perhaps, then, it was not entirely a bad thing that my father somehow managed to poison himself when I was almost nine. It was an accident, of course. Something went awry at work one day while he was mixing -- the fumes were toxic enough to kill him instantly. I cannot bring myself to be glad of his death, though. He may not have been the best choice for my father, but he was the choice, nevertheless."

Plunging forward, Severus did not give her a chance to comment. "My father's funeral was somewhat more somber and colored by the realization that I was now a homeless orphan. Uncle Primus and his wife did not even bother to attend the funeral, so I knew I did not have a home there. Tertius was in no position to raise a child -- an unmarried professional Quidditch player of little repute and thus little salary, penniless and traveling so continuously that he did not even bother to maintain a permanent residence. He told me as much at the funeral, standing beside my father's grave with an apologetic look on his face.

"And so, once the funeral was over and the minister left, I stood there, alone. I had nowhere to go. The shop had been sold and the money put toward the funeral expenses and unpaid bills my father had left. I vaguely knew that someone from an orphanage would probably come and fetch me at some point if I went back to Diagon Alley, so I stayed in the graveyard, an old suitcase by my feet, wondering what to do next. You can imagine, probably, what happened."

With a little shake of her head, Granger indicated for him to continue.

"Albus showed up. The great Albus Dumbledore, already famous for his battle with Grindelwald, Apparated into the graveyard." Severus was quiet for a moment, remembering.

"'Do you remember me, Severus?' I remember him asking. 'No?' he asked again when all I could do was stare at him. 'I'm your uncle Albus. Your grandmother's brother. I've come to fetch you.'

"What choice did I have? I was eight years old, lonely and destitute. I knew that Albus was my only option for evading the orphanage. So I went with him to the old Dumbledore estate, not knowing what to expect.

"Aberforth was there," he said darkly. "Apparently, Albus had read of my father's death in the Daily Prophet and he contacted Aberforth about it. They knew the Snapes would want nothing to do with me, and Albus felt that they had an obligation to help as best they could. Aberforth, you see, did not quite agree. He had his own family -- children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, by that point -- and wanted nothing to do with an awkward little orphan child. I imagine his mind was made up once he set eyes on me -- a shy, ugly little shadow of a boy. He wanted no part of it and was quite ... vocal about it."

Granger was frowning. "But you were just a little child ..."

"He said that there was not a circumstance in the world that would move him to take in another child. He could not afford it, he said, and neither could any of his kin. They fought and Aberforth Disapparated, leaving me alone with Albus. I cannot say, though, that I was unhappy when he left.

"'So ... ' Albus said once it was just the two of us. 'Are you hungry, Severus? I'll have something brought up to you.'

"I could not bear it. 'Are you going to send me to the orphanage?' I asked.

"He laughed and patted my head and I think it was that moment that I wanted nothing more than for him to love me and let me live with him. 'My house is awfully large and empty, Severus,' he said with that awful little twinkle in his eyes that he's always got. 'Plenty of room for one little boy. Would you like to live here with me?'

"I distantly recall bursting into tears at that point," Severus said dryly. "And Miss Granger? Not a word."

Her features softened. "Of course not."

Giving her one last pointed, threatening look, Severus picked up the narrative again. "Living at Albus' estate was like living in a dream world. I had such vague recollections of our home before my mother died, and afterward, our flat had been so shabby and dark that the Dumbledore mansion seemed unspeakably large and beautiful to my eyes. And Albus was generous with his money -- everything I wanted I had as soon as I so much as mentioned it to a house elf. Books, toys, clothes, sweets, anything I asked for. It soon became apparent that Albus did not know very much about children -- more exotic requests were also indulged. I set up my own potions lab in one of the rooms near mine and began practicing brewing before I was ten, whatever I could dig out of Albus' library. The Dumbledores have quite an extensive library and Albus personally added a great number of alchemical and potions texts. Plenty for a curious student to spend all his time crawling through. For the first time in my life, I found myself fairly content.

"But as I aged, I noticed that my uncle was rarely on the estate. During the school year, he was required to live at Hogwarts and during the summers, he was often absent on Ministry business or Order business or some such thing. Again, I grew lonely. But I was accustomed to it -- after all, as I have said, my parents were not particularly affectionate people.

"I started at Hogwarts when I was nearly eleven years old and at first, I was very excited. After all, my uncle was the headmaster. But Albus made it very clear from the first day that he was not going to give me any special treatment. As he took me to King's Cross to ride the train in with all the other students, he told me that I was not to refer to him familiarly, I was to go to my Head of House if I needed anything and not him, and I was, above all, never to tell anyone that I was his ward. It would, he said, put me in an awkward position and he did not want to be accused of any potential favoritism.

"I was Sorted into Slytherin, of course," he said, watching Granger nod shortly. "And I always wondered if Albus was disappointed with me because of it -- I have never been able to bring myself to ask. From the first day of school, the first time I set foot on the train, I realized that, again, I was alone. Always alone. It did not help, either, that I was not particularly ... sociable.

"Sirius Black was the first boy I spoke with at Hogwarts. He and James Potter and I were forced to share a boat on the ride in to the castle. There was a cold wind blowing that day, and my cloak was not warm enough. As I shivered in the bottom of the boat, with both cold and fear, Black smirked at me and said, 'Afraid of water, then, scaredy-cat?'

"'I am not,' I remember saying. 'I'm just cold, is all.'

"'Bet you aren't,' he continued, still smirking widely. 'Bet you're scared. You're just a little fairy 'fraidy boy, aren't you?'

"Stupidly, not knowing anything about boats, I leapt to my feet. 'Take it back!' I cried as the boat started rocking.

"He did not have a chance to reply. The boat overturned then, dumping Black and Potter and me into the lake. Potter couldn't swim and Black hauled him to the water's edge. He left me, of course, splashing around in the lake. Fortunately, Hagrid came back for me and fished me out.

"That was just the beginning," Severus said, eyes flashing as he remembered his Hogwarts years. "You knew Sirius Black after years in Azkaban. After he'd been twisted with hate and drained by the dementors. And you still loved him. No, you stupid girl," he sighed as she opened her mouth, ostensibly to object. "I don't mean that you were in love with him. I mean that you liked and respected him well enough to go charging blindly after him in the Department of Mysteries all those years ago. And don't give me all that blather about it being Potter's idea -- you followed him. You saw Black as important enough to die for. Keep that in mind when I tell you that Sirius Black ruled Hogwarts while he was a student. He was a little king -- the students worshipped him and the teachers would forgive him any offense. And right beside him, perhaps less likeable but not a whit less powerful, was James Potter. If Black was king, then Potter was his crown prince -- headstrong and charming. He also usually had more of a sense of self-preservation than Black -- Black would try anything at least once, but Potter was generally there to keep him from getting in real trouble. And they absolutely despised me."

Black's grin flashed across Severus' memory and his hands clenched into fists. "Harry once told us," Granger began in what he suspected was a deliberately careful voice. "He said he looked in a Pensieve once that had your memories in it and he saw Sirius and his father and they were ..."

Eyes narrowing at the recollection of Harry Potter's damned nosiness, Severus nodded sharply. "As I grew older, I took less and less advantage of Albus' largesse, perhaps seeing it for what it was. Thus, slowly, more of my books were secondhand, and my robes wore thin as I made do on the little pocket money he gave me and nothing else. I had not asked for anything from him for ages and little by little, his desire to spoil me faded. By my fifth year, it was gone completely. My appearance was further fodder for their amusement. I began practicing hexes and curses outside of classes in addition to my potions dabblings and soon, I could hold my own against them.

"Only once did I try to speak to Albus about Potter and Black. During my sixth year, I happened to hear Black speaking with Potter about a meeting they were to have in the Forbidden Forest that evening. Only later did I realize that Black meant for me to overhear what he was saying -- he mentioned the Whomping Willow and a large knot at the base that, if pressed, would reveal a secret passage. I did not consider at the time that it was strange that he felt the need to remind Potter of this fact.

"That night I went to the willow tree and pressed every knot I could reach with a long stick. Finally, I stumbled across the correct one and the passage opened, the tree freezing as if Petrified. But before I could enter, James Potter came barreling out of nowhere and knocked me down. I fought him, of course, kicking and punching as he screamed at me. But Potter was bigger than I was and it did not take him long to drag me completely away from the tree.

"'You can't!' he shouted as I struggled. 'Snivellus, you've got to go away.'

"'What are you doing down there?' I asked.

"He punched me in the face. 'There's a werewolf behind that door, Snape. Sirius and I can keep him in check, but you can't be here. Sirius thought it would be funny to scare you, but he didn't realize Remus could kill you.'

"Potter let me go and that was the first time I broke Albus' rule, running straight to his office and shouting at the entrance until he came out. I wasn't completely stupid -- I'd caught Potter's slip. Remus Lupin was a werewolf and Sirius Black had just tried to kill me. 'Uncle Albus!' I cried. 'Uncle Albus, you've got to help me.'

"The whole story spilled out. Somewhere in the middle of it, Albus managed to get me into his office, into a chair. I'm certain I was in tears by the end of it all. His face became more and more stern as I spoke, letting out years of anger and hatred. When I was finished, he was as grave and quiet as a tomb. 'Severus,' he began, and I could tell by the look on his face that it was not going to be good. 'Severus, my boy, I am sorry for what you feel has been done to you, but there's not much I can do. Young Mr. Black did not harm you in any way and you should be grateful to Mr. Potter for saving your life. I confess, I did know about Remus Lupin -- we're doing our best to give him the best possible education under the circumstances. Maybe a stricter curfew during the full moon is in order. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Severus?'

"It would not have been worse if he'd struck me. 'You're not going to do anything?' I shouted. 'But Black set a live werewolf on me! Uncle Albus ... '

"Hardening further, he sat behind his desk, leaving my side. 'That's Professor Dumbledore, Severus,' he reminded me. 'And I will say again, you must learn to fight your own battles. I hear that Sirius Black and James Potter are quite nice boys. And Mr. Lupin is a prefect, for Merlin's sake. I'm sure that you can straighten everything out.'

"And that was it. Nothing more was ever said on the matter. But that's when I realized that Albus thought Black was important. He had fallen under Black's spell just like everyone else at the school. If given a choice between Black and his nephew, Albus would choose -- had chosen -- Sirius Black and James Potter."

His voice was bleak and Granger's face was compassionate. "Within the week, I was studying Dark hexes -- I knew that if I was going to have to deal with Potter and Black on my own, I would need stronger weapons. When I met Lucius Malfoy at Borgin and Burkes the summer after I left Hogwarts, he told me about a political organization he was affiliated with. One that was dedicated to the betterment of wizarding society, that desired a return to traditional wizarding ideals. His argument was compelling and I soon found myself attending meetings.

"Voldemort was a brilliant creature," Severus said with a grimace. "Mad as a hatter, of course, but brilliant. He knew that not many would come flocking to his banner if he spoke about world domination and the purging of the races. So he employed a more subtle approach, telling his inner circle to recruit members as they saw fit, offering each exactly what they wanted. Once in the system, he could 're-educate' us."

Granger looked horrified. "That's ... that's awful!"

"Of course it is," he agreed. "What did you expect, Miss Granger? No ... Voldemort used Lucius Malfoy to pull me into his organization, showing me only the best points, offering me funds for research, and a ready-made group of companions. He reeled me in within a year. By May, I was branded with the Dark Mark."

"But ..." Granger began. "But you went back to Dumbledore."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I rose quickly within the ranks. I was eager to please my new masters and they rewarded me with such praise for my efforts that it was only a matter of time until I was invited into the inner circle. Six months after I took the Mark, Lucius brought me to an inner circle meeting. Wearing a silver cloak and a dark mask, I took my place within the circle. And I was terrified.

"The Lucius Malfoy that treated me with kindness and patience was gone. As was the gently charismatic Lord Voldemort. In their places were fanatics, preaching a new world order, in which wizards ruled and Muggles lived only by our leave. I realized that they were fighting a war, a war with the Ministry and a war with my uncle. Voldemort openly called Albus an 'old fool,' and spoke freely about what he would do to him, and his Order of the Phoenix, once he was in power. He ordered Lucius to 'eliminate' an Auror and his family -- he was getting too close to the truth, you see. When I protested to Lucius, I was placed under the Cruciatus curse for the first time in my life.

"I went to Albus that very night. I threw myself at his feet, begging for forgiveness and offering him every piece of information I had on the Death Eaters. And while I had eliminated any chance I ever had of joining Voldemort's inner circle, I still offered to go crawling back to Lucius, to continue collecting evidence against the Death Eater organization. Albus took me at my word and I became a spy until my usefulness ran out." Bowing his head, he focused his gaze on a small, unidentifiable stain on his trousers. "That, Miss Granger, is why Albus Dumbledore is my next-of-kin. It is also, in some small part, not only why I am here, but why he feels the need to visit me as well. Think of me what you will."

Granger was quiet for a moment. Finally, she said, "I think you are a good person, Professor Snape. You have not been handed an easy path in life, but you have walked it nonetheless. I think I understand a little more now."

"Good."

Still contemplative, she stood up, giving him a look he could not immediately identify. "I will see you next week, sir."

He watched her leave as he always did, overwhelmed and exhausted. After all, he had just said more in the span of two hours than he had in the last five years. To Hermione Granger, of all people. It rather boggled the mind.

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