Severus Snape was a gutter rat rescued from the London slums by Harry Potter's great-grandmother. Years later, he writes a letter to Harry explaining not only his past, but also of Harry's family history and heritage.
Chapter 08
Posted:
06/16/2002
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Author's Note:
Author's notes: I would like to say this follows the canon, but sometimes it meshes, so it would be safer for me to say this is an Alternative Universe of Severus Snape's past. Due to the obscurity of Snape's past, I took a great deal of artisical liberty, but I still like to think that Snape is canonly in-character. If not, I blame it entirely on his past. Or something. (To be read thinking that everything you ever learned in OotP does not exist.)
Pandora took us to the King's Cross Station on September 1st. We unloaded our things from the train, and moved
from platform eighteen to the space between platforms nine and ten. It was sort of an outing for the others, as many of the
neighbourhood children starting their first year with us came without their parents. Frank Longbottom's mother came though,
so there was little rambunctious behaviour. There were eight children all together, with only half of us beginning our first year;
Sirius, Remus, Frank, Alice, myself, and three others you would never have heard and really have no importance whatsoever.
At least, not to my knowledge.
We met Lily and her parents as well as four other Muggle-born wizards and witches and their families at that space.
As Pandora explained to the parents how the children entered Platform nine and three quarters, Mrs. Longbottom lined us up
and directed us through the pillar. I was the second to the last of the Dinsmore children before the Muggle-born children, with
Frank just behind me. As we pulled our luggage over to the train, Lily stumbled after us with her cart on tow.
James, Sirius, and Remus swiftly entered the train, eager to explore the area and to establish their reputation of
being troublemakers. The other children babbled of how excited they were, the things they would learn and see, and what
House they may be sorted into. Most of the children were familiar with one another except the Muggle-born. Lily must have felt
oddly out of place. Being an elder brother brings out the protective side of a person, so I naturally took her under my care.
I grabbed her by the elbow and together we entered the train along with the rest of the late loaders. I saw Pandora
standing near the platform's entrance, one hand clamped down upon her straw hat to keep the wind from tugging it free. I
hurried over to the window where James leaned out waving to her. I squeezed between him and waved goodbye as the train
started to move.
Lily, Frank, and I decided to sit together in a single compartment during the trip to Hogwarts. Lily smiled and grinned
at the sounds of explosions, angry cries, Sirius' and James' triumphant yowls of laughter, and people demanding loudly to know
who had done what. With ten minutes left to our destination, the door to our compartment swung open and in stumbled a
trembling boy with eyes wide with fear.
"Hide me!" he squealed in the same manner as a stuck pig. "They're out to get me!" He scrambled beneath one of
the berths, concealing himself behind my legs and gasping desperately for air. Mind you, nothing was ever done to him. Peter
Pettygrew, however, was frightened that James and Sirius would choose him as a target for their pranks. Not so; they only
pulled jokes on those strong enough not to be affected by them.
So my first impression of Peter was, and remained since, that he was a snivelling coward.
Peter was, for all intent and purpose, what Neville is like. Nervous, jumpy, scared of even his own shadow, willing to
do anything to save his own hide. I knew, oh, I knew he was a spy for Voldemort. I did not know, until Albus told me a few weeks
back when he informed me he thought it wise to write all that I know for your sake, that Peter was James' keeper. For years I
thought it was Sirius who betrayed the secret of James' whereabouts to Voldemort, and I hated him. Sirius and James had been
closer than James and I together had ever been, and then it was he who betrayed James while I sacrificed everything to help
James.
Peter was protected and nurtured by James, which was what I never received either. Peter would have flunked the school and would have had to clean toilets for a living were it not for the combined efforts of Lily, Remus, and myself in tutoring him to the point where he would get acceptable grades, albeit barely. I lean hard on Neville because I do not want to see another Peter. Through any which way of the matter, Peter was coddled and taken care of by everyone, from students to teachers, and became a traitor. If coddling was what created Peter, giving him what confidence he had so there was no one intimidating enough to prevent him from joining Voldemort, then any terror I cultivate in Neville will keep him too cowed to suffer the same fate. Should Neville ever be captured, it is my hope he dies of fright before anything happens. Or bite his tongue off in fear and bleed to death.
Upon our arrival, we met Rubeus Hagrid, who explained to us (the first years) we were to cross the lake on boats and our luggage would be taken to Hogwarts for us. He was very daunting to someone of my background. He intimidated many of the others as well, but Sirius, again with those troublemaker's senses, could tell this was someone with a very high tolerance level. Sirius attached himself to Hagrid, and James, who did everything with Sirius, did the same. As both spoke excitedly about their surroundings and the school, Lily and I stood off to the side as I watched Frank, who was in his third year, leave with Alice and the other three Dinsmore children. Peter, for some odd reason, thought I was his protector. He affixed himself to me, and though I tried to scare him away with dirty looks, he refused to meet my eyes.
When Hagrid called out four to a boat, I climbed into an empty boat. Peter trailed behind; we two were the only ones who sat together in it as other children scattered. Lily trotted off to sit with James, Sirius, and Remus. Since I was conveniently located in a boat with neither James nor Sirius near by, Lucius decided to ride with me. Any who approached for the remaining spot in the boat he glared at until they decided to ride in another.
I knew Lucius was up to something the moment he sat at the head of the boat. The deviant smugness in his eyes made the hair on the back of my neck rise in sharp warning, but I stood my ground and stared back. Nothing was said as Hagrid jumped into his own boat and all the boats were pulled, or pushed, by some magical force across the lake to the shore on the other side. Peter clung to the sides of the boat, his knuckles white from the force he gripped with.
Lucius glanced over his shoulder at me. He smiled smugly at me then looked away. I hunched down against the back of the boat. Lucius peered over the side of the boat. I looked over at the boat where James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily were tossing handfuls of water at one another, giggling wildly as their boat rocked wildly from side to side. I felt nauseous just looking at them; Pandora, for some odd reason, never found it in her our best interests to teach us how to swim. I found the idea of being pulled across the lake in a boat frightful.
What if James fell in? Did he know how to swim? Was I expected to jump in after him? How upset would Pandora be if I allowed James to drown?
Lucius dipped a hand in the water and then looked from it to me. "Did you know," he began in what everyone else would have mistaken as a conversational tone, "that a giant squid lives at the bottom of the lake? They say that it eats children, and those unruly students whom the teachers cannot control are given to the squid in punishment."
Peter squeaked, much like a mouse caught in a trap. He crouched lower and Lucius flicked water from his fingers at Peter's face. "It follows us, you know," he said quietly. He gazed into the water. "Ready for anyone careless enough to fall in." He looked over his shoulder again at Peter and smiled wickedly. Peter squeaked again and pressed himself against me. I gritted my teeth and tried to push him away, but I was small and skinny and Peter could have easily have been three of me. It was not that Peter was big, but only that I was very small.
"Sev?" I turned my head to see James leaning over the edge of his boat, unnoticed by the others. He looked concerned, but I shook my head to assure him everything was fine. His eyes flickered from Lucius to me. I smiled; it did nothing to elevate James' worry. As James turned back to Lily, who was tugging his sleeve and brimming with all sorts of questions about Hogwarts, I settled back against the boat.
Lucius looked over his shoulder at me again. Something within me withered at the vicious look within his eyes. He stood up suddenly in the boat. "Hark!" he cried with a light voice, ignoring the protests of myself and Peter and the demands from the other boats' occupants. "It comes! It’s hungry!" He lunged suddenly across the boat with his arms open to Peter. "We must offer it a sacrifice!"
I jumped to my feet and stumbled backwards. Peter's bulk heaved against me. As Lucius landed in the area of the boat where Peter had been, the boat tottered wildly. With a wild laugh, Lucius shoved Peter against me, and the two of us toppled over into the water.
I had mentioned I could not swim, yes?
I am proud to say that in those first few moments, when my body hit the rigid waters with a mighty splash and Peter landed on top of me, I did not panic. However, the same could not be said for Peter. Peter was already stupefied with fright from many different things, from James and Sirius and their explosions, to the immensity of Hogwarts, to Lucius. I had no idea if he could swim either, but lard floats and Peter certainly had more than I did.
I did begin to panic when Peter groped wildly at me, pushing me down into the depths of the lake's inky black waters in an attempt to climb on top of me and stay in sight of the others lest a giant squid decided to eat him. I dimly remember a voice shouting, "James! No!" and then another splash of water, before Peter clubbed me in the head with a flailing foot and I lost any floatation I might have gained. I sank under the water's surface, dizzy and incoherent. My chest constricted for air and I reflectively took a breath.
Allow me to say that drowning is a terrible way to die. The first thing I was aware of as I drew a lungful of water was a chill that invaded my body, and then a deep stinging at the very top of my head. An iron band wrapped itself around my chest and squeezed as swimming spots of dark violet, blue, and black appeared in my vision. I felt disoriented and miserable, unable to think of anything but air. I could not tell what was up or down. Bubbles and currents created from my panicked thrashing obscured any light that may have filtered from the surface.
It may have been only a matter of seconds before I was too drained from lack of oxygen and too affected by the cold to struggle anymore. To me, even as I replay the memories, it was like a lifetime. The desperation I felt in that moment for help, knowing all my dreams and all my ambitions would end within a watery grave, was overpowering.
I knew I should have stayed home with the portraits.
Now, there are two other ways my life could have taken a turn other than the way it had. One, I would have drowned for sure, and then I swear I would have haunted Lucius Malfoy, scaring away any potential child-bearing woman he met to disallow his spreading his genes around. Two, James, who, to his credit, jumped into the lake with the intent of saving me, would have succeeded.
However, neither of these things happened.
I have owed some outrageous debts in my time. To Sirius, I owe a lifetime of pranks, humiliation, and annoyance. To James I owed my loyalty and, yes, love. To Pandora, I owed a wonderful childhood, and a great deal more just for giving me a better chance to succeed.
And to Voldemort, I owe my life. There is no doubt in my mind that Voldemort rescued me from my watery grave.
You have no idea how degrading I find this debt. And yet it is not a debt, for it was cancelled when Voldemort turned me into one of his own.
I do not know how long I was in the lake, but I awoke in a pair of warm arms. A shimmering silver material was wrapped around us and it was warm too, though I shivered violently. It was the first thing I was aware of, and I thought Pandora was holding me close. I realized we (myself and whoever held me) floated far above the lake. It was almost twilight and the blowing wind whipped the silvery material about. The broom we sat upon rotated lazily around in a circle.
I saw Hogwarts in the distance, with its jutting pinnacles and towers that rose every which way, disjointed yet strangely elegant. Little black figures roamed the courtyards within the walls and scampered frantically on the grounds outside. Beyond it was a forest that towering above the castle, a foreboding green with dark shadows mingling amongst the tree trunks. I felt relaxed and safe in the person's arms as I looked across the sprawling countryside. This moment differed immensely from the first time I had flown, encased within Pandora's arms, across London during the late night. That had been wonderful, but this was magnificent.
The wind blew again and I recovered enough from my surprise to realize how wet my clothes were. They hung about my body almost like sheets of ice. I shivered and the arms around me tightened slightly. I looked up to tell the person I was cold and to ask why we were flying, but the words died on my tongue at seeing the profile of he who held me.
Twisted, dark, and unnatural. The dark eyes that peered outward saw all there was to be seen. It was a handsome profile, or had been once. Then the eyes that gazed across a distance, searching for something dropped down upon myself. I cringed away and hid my face as my thoughts howled in dismay. How could I look at this man? No, not a man, but a monster. Such was the creature who so effortlessly reduced the Potter family--the family that loved me and took care of me--to nothing.
The Potters sacrificed everything they had to destroy Voldemort, at least those who survived his first bloody strike. No one likes to realize the family members, who had already lost so much and had every right to drop out of sight and never fight Voldemort again while they had the chance to slip away, would do so much more than what any other wizarding family in this society was capable of doing.
This man, for whatever reason, held me now. Why had he rescued me from drowning? No one else knew where I was. Albus, upon learning that I had fallen out of the boat, immediately sought out the Merpeople. They said someone had entered their region, but then swiftly disappeared. James was frantic with worry, and he could only be calmed with promises of Pandora being sent for. James, in his simple way, believed Pandora would find a solution to the problem.
But I knew nothing of what was going on then. All I knew then was Voldemort held me above the ground on his broomstick when I should have been in that cold, dark lake.
As he looked down at me, he smiled. For one brief moment, he seemed almost human. The eyes are the windows to the soul and, very often, you may tell what sort of person someone is by looking in their eyes. For all his power and cunning, Voldemort had very empty eyes. It was as if he had no soul. I could believe he was powerful, but he was not human.
After he smiled, he turned his gaze across the distance once more. I was freezing cold and filled with dismay; what would he do to me? Yet all Voldemort did was hold me, cradling me close against his body and offering warmth. My gutter rat instincts screamed at me to get away no matter what, but the only escape I had was if I wriggled free of Voldemort's grasp and fell to the water below. Naturally, this avenue had little appeal, so I waited as he waited.
After what seemed a long time, something in the air besides clouds moved. A little black dot appeared in the distance, zooming swiftly towards Hogwarts. I heard Voldemort hiss in triumph and the broom beneath us leapt forward. I gripped the arms that surrounded me tightly and pressed backwards, frightened at what seemed to me at the time to be a terribly swift speed. Voldemort angled the broom so we turned and flew alongside yet still towards the black dot. The black dot drew closer and I realized it was a person hunched over the broom for as great a speed as possible, cloak whipping wildly behind.
Voldemort chuckled and flew closer to the broom. The shimmering silver material was pulled away from us and, as he tucked it into his robes, I realized it had been an invisible cloak. "Pandora!" he called. The figure on the broom swerved and dipped suddenly then whipped around twice before steadying.
Pandora's expression, from what I could make out in the distance, was that of alarmed horror. She remained still as Voldemort flew close. He came to a stop at her side and grinned cruelly at her. He pulled me close to his body. "I went fishing and caught a minnow," he said. He looked down at me and smiled once more. "I'm torn; I cannot quite make up my mind of what I want to do with this child."
Pandora's eyes flickered from Voldemort to me. "Are you all right, Severus?" she asked, momentarily ignoring Voldemort.
I hunched down in my frozen robes. "I'm cold," I replied mournfully. Pandora floated towards us. Her head was bare of her usual straw hat and her cheeks were flushed from flying.
"He'll catch his death if you keep him like this," Pandora said sharply. "Look at him shiver." She held her arms out to me as she gazed directly at Voldemort. What must of those eyes have seen as they met his? She saw much more than I did, and what did his eyes see as well?
Voldemort laughed again and shook a finger at Pandora. "No, I think not." With one hand, he pulled his dark cloak around me. "He'll catch his death of something far worse than just a pitiful cold if I desire." He rested his cheek against the top of my head. "Which I may or may not."
"Please, Riddle," neither Pandora's hands nor eyes wavered, "please give him to me."
Voldemort whipped his broom around so his back faced her. "I gave sanctuary to one child only!" he snapped angrily. Then he laughed serenely and his arms tightened around me. "What makes this child, this gutter rat, so special that you would care for him as your own flesh and blood?"
Did I sense a slight hint of bitterness in Voldemort's words? Why did the man once known as Tom Riddle and the woman who was formally a Snape throw words back and forth? What games did Voldemort and Pandora play with each other? I grant you not even Albus realized the depths of their interactions. Pandora’s power was nothing compared to Voldemort, but Voldemort held a deep regard for her and may have even trusted her, which granted Pandora a marginal amount of leeway. That was more than anyone alive could claim.
Why did Voldemort seek to ruin the Potter family and yet did nothing to the woman who held it together and elevated it to what it was time after bloody, endless time? What did Pandora do that night of your parents' death to have reduced Voldemort into shambles of what he had once been?
"Magic called to blood and blood answered," Pandora replied softly. I heard a soft rustling. Pandora dipped beneath Voldemort and floated up before him. Her eyes pleaded in a way her voice did not. "Why should I have left him on the streets to starve?"
"I doubt he is pure," Voldemort whispered.
"And what care have you if he is pure or not? You're only a halfblood!" I felt Voldemort's rage flare, felt his body tense in fury, but Pandora acted as if her words had not upset him. "He is an unknown. Better to learn than to wonder."
Knowledge is power, and Voldemort hungered for power. Even as he burned with more power than anyone living had ever seen, he desired for so much more. But power could only be attained through knowledge. Why the need to dominate others? It was not just the action or the doing he desired, but the knowing. Knowing he was the greatest and the most powerful, and knowing that everyone else knew, was--no, is--his ultimate goal even if he has to shove the concept down people's protesting throats. But what is the appreciation of this by those who truly do not fully understand? This is lost, he feels, upon those who are not pure. If they are not pure, they are imperfect, and therefore are incapable of fully knowing and understanding that he is the greatest.
"We do not know if he is a mudblood," Pandora's mouth twisted as if she ate something sour, "or if he is a halfblood," she looked at him pointedly, "or a pureblood. What if he is a pureblood? What sort of power flows through his veins? Why do you blame mudbloods for their dirtiness when they cannot control what they born with? How do we know what truly makes them? Through this unknown you hold, we could find the answer. The key you hold may unlock a treasure and what a treasure it could be!"
"What do I care for this treasure? Mudblood is mudblood. It is sullied and impure, a freak accident of two Muggles joined. A halfblood is tainted, because the blood of a Muggle is joined with the blood of a pure wizard, and it destroys that line forever.. How could you, Pandora?"
Perhaps there was a reason why the Potter family was destroyed the way it was. Francis Potter was a wizard from a Muggle family and he joined with the Snape family--a family with long bloodlines of absolute purity. The idea that the bloodlines were engulfed in that name must have irritated and maddened Voldemort. How enraged must he have been at the idea that a mudblood would be blessed with a genius that surpassed his own? This was perhaps why Francis was the first of the Potter family to die.
But why did Voldemort grant sanctuary to James? Was it to protect the Snape bloodline? The Malfoys could claim that heritage as easily as James. So why did all of this happen? And if Pandora had sullied and destroyed her bloodline by joining with Francis, why was she still alive instead of joining the ranks of dead with her husband and children?
This has everything to do with you, Harry. A mother's love alone cannot protect a child from a powerful spell. Even when Voldemort was stripped of his power he was still too strong for even a dozen Aurors to fight with the hope of winning. What is it within your bloodline that protected you from Voldemort’s harm? That bloodline, joined with a mother's love, for the first time in our known history deflected the Avada Kedavra curse. How? Voldemort, throughout all those years, was after something only Pandora could give. When that did not succeed, he went after you.
Brother wands do not regurgitate past spells when pitted against one another. The more powerful one engulfs the weaker one, mingling power together to become stronger than before. Unless the wand wielders are near equal in power, they do not force past spells to emerge and manifest themselves in reverse.
Why did none of your spells manifest themselves? Why did only Voldemort's past spells emerge? What is it within your bloodline that gives you the capability to break all rules in such a manner? Albus has told me everything you have ever told him concerning Voldemort so I could make sense of the entire picture, but I only get jumbled colours and crooked lines. Do you see a pattern emerging from this misshapen mess? I do not.
"I have use," Voldemort said, "for a bastard such as this one. He would make a wonderful plaything."
"Riddle, no. Please, give him to me." Pandora held her arms out to me. I dearly wanted to leap from Voldemort's grasp into her own. As if he anticipated my thoughts, Voldemort pulled his black cloak tighter around me.
"Why should I?"
Pandora could not answer. Any answer she gave him would have been either inadequate or scorned. She dropped her arms and looked away. Voldemort nudged his broom close so their legs brushed. "Why should I?" he asked again, reaching one hand from out of the cloak's folds to stroke her shoulder. "Why should I hand you a gutter rat, who would be far better off dead?"
I snuffed and rubbed my running nose. They both looked at me and something inside of me snapped. At seeing those two pairs of eyes, knowing and understanding, yet in one person not caring, I felt that I should say something about how I felt at the time, besides just being cold.
"What would you care," I said to Voldemort with chattering teeth, "whether I live or die? If I die by your hand, it does not matter, but it hurts Pandora. If you give me to Pandora, you lose nothing but the desire for my death. What does anything have to do with anything? What does everything have to do with everything? What difference does any of this make? I don’t know what I am, but I really don't care! Should I? If I don't care, should you care? Why should a little gutter rat like me be even worth the trouble of being killed?
Do you wonder how Voldemort reacted to my speaking out of line? He laughed. I can make no sense of my words even as I write and remember. I have no idea if either Pandora or Voldemort understood. Pandora gazed at me with solemn eyes and Voldemort laughed.
"Perceptive child," he said to Pandora with mirth in his voice. "Very perceptive, however young." He pulled my head back to look into my eyes. Within those black depths, I saw something that reminded me of Sirius' eyes whenever he had an urge to play a prank. The look had nothing to do with the idea of the prank, but only the urge. It was a driving, burning need for something I could not name. He looked at Pandora. "Slytherin. And for that alone I will allow him to live."
With those words, he shoved me roughly into a surprised Pandora. She wrapped her arms and cloak protectively around me, hunching close to shield me from him. She smelled as sweet as the first time she had held me, like lavender.
A wind blew Voldemort's black cloak out and ruffled his black hair. For a single moment, I saw him as to what he was always a shadow of; I saw him as a handsome and charming man. And then he smiled and tilted his head so his eyes fell upon me, and once more he was unnatural and twisted, a soulless monster. "But," he warned softly, "merely because I give the gutter rat to you now does not mean he has the sanctuary I grant your real grandson. Rest assured, I will have him as my own someday." He pulled his invisible cloak out and wrapped it around himself, disappearing from our sight.
Pandora floated a few moments, waiting to see if anything more would happen. With a deep sigh, she hugged me close and the broom jumped forward. We flew together to Hogwarts.
"Severus," Pandora whispered. "Tell no one of this so long as you live." Her fingers pinched my shoulder. "Promise."
"Why?" I wondered. She shook her head and pinched me harder.
"You cannot tell."
"I promise."
I have kept my promise. As you read this, I am dead. The seal upon these papers assure only you would open them and read the written content. I have told no one of what happened so long as I lived. Indeed, many of this I have told no one so long as I lived.