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 10
Posted:
06/22/2002
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340
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.)
James had, a little while before I followed after Remus, received a letter from Pandora of how she was going to make a dangerous trip and that she wanted him and me at Albus' office shortly after twilight so she could speak with us. He went looking for me, but when he could not find me anywhere he enlisted Lily's help. Lily came across Sirius and asked him if he saw me. She explained that James needed to see me about a message from Pandora. Sirius went to James, who told him they would have to let Remus fend for himself for once, and by the by, did Sirius know where Sev was?
Was it the mention of Pandora coming or James saying they would not be seeing Remus that night? Whatever the reason, Sirius panicked and told James what he had told me. James scrambled from the castle to the Whomping Willow as fast as possible, ignoring the fact that Pandora would inquire after him as soon as she reached the castle, which would be within minutes. The full moon rose quite quickly during those early fall days and James knew it. James was far more aware of the consequences than Sirius seemed to be.
Remus, as a werewolf, heard James moments before I. He backed away from me with a whine, and then howled as the panel behind me slid open and a hand jerked me out of the tunnel by my collar. Remus sprang forward and snarled at me. His teeth bit into my trouser leg and tore the material away along with a good chunk of my calf. The tunnel opening slammed shut behind us. Momentarily choked by the strangling hold on my collar, I did nothing as James hauled me against his body and transfigured. I found myself astride a stag as it sprang forward. A dozen swift strides later, and I fell off its back just short of the Whomping Willow’s reach.
Riding a horse I have never done at all. Francis could, as I remember Pandora telling me how his parents would spend summers with ranching cousins in Australia. I fell off James' back (or Prongs’ back; I always did wonder how he got that ridiculous nickname), hit the ground and rolled twice before sitting upright and glaring at the stag standing before me. In a blink of an eye, James, sheepish and worried, stood before me. Sirius and Peter came running out of the bushes and skidded to a halt behind James. All three of them looked at me, waiting for my reaction. I was silent as I stared at their guilty faces. My anger swelled as I began to make connections with everything that I knew and had just learned. When Remus as a werewolf howled, my anger broke through its dam.
I exploded. In my entire life before this point, I have never lost control of my temper on such a large scale of magnitude. I called James, Sirius, and Peter every single name I could think of--and allow me to say I have an extended vocabulary for insults from living on the streets--and made threats left and right. I swore how I would tell Pandora and Albus and Minerva all that happened. Expelled? I would certainly see to it that it would happen! James was an unregistered, illegally practicing animagus, which I would delight in telling the entire world! And Remus' condition was going to be all over the school before tomorrow arrived!
While I was making these threats, James gestured Sirius and Peter away, telling them beneath my words he would handle the matter. They gave him worried glances, as if scared I would forget about letting Pandora punish James but instead kill him myself, then left. I did not like the idea that these two--the very two who got me into the mess in the first place--would go away and leave James to face my wrath alone.
I was enraged that James--noble, gentle, brash, and carefree James--took full responsibility for something Sirius did. Yes, it was my fault for being curious, but if we were brothers, could I not then be trusted? True, I should have asked him in the beginning instead of Peter, but I had problems trusting. It hurt to realize how far apart we were. I knew we would never be as close together as he was with Sirius and Remus and even that fat slob Peter, but why? Whose fault was it? Was it my fault for my deeply ingrained distrust, or was it his fault for not trying hard enough?
Then I remembered, from that first time I met your father, that motion of his hand. The hand that touched me, then was wiped off against his shirt. That was why we could never be close. It did not matter if our mother was Pandora. It did not matter if we were brothers. It did not matter how much James tried to be apart of my life. We would never be close, were never meant to be as close. A relationship between us would never succeed without trust, which I was too scared to give and he did not care to grant.
Perhaps it was not his fault in the least that I did what I did. Sirius knew full well how dangerous it would be for me to follow a person who would soon turn into a werewolf, one that was expecting company to chase. If Sirius did not know, it was because Sirius did not think. This was careless of him and it was the same carelessness in thought and word James often showed everyone he did not go out of his way to be kind towards. In what way did James and Sirius influence one another? Through their own interaction with each other, their deeds reflected their friendship.
No, James did not come and rescue me when he got cold feet about his prank. He came to rescue me when Sirius got cold feet about his prank. I meant to hurt you at that time when you said you knew your father saved my life though, and the truth of your godfather would not hurt so much as a cutting lie of your father. I apologize, late as it is, for that.
But I was deeply hurt then. "Why?" I raged against your father. "Why wasn't this entire mess simply cleared up with Sirius telling me about Remus? Why did he send me after a boy who was going to turn into a hungry werewolf?"
"He didn't mean to," James replied, trying to calm me with a quiet voice and pleading eyes. "He only meant for you to see what we did." I would not be calmed, however.
"Why did he tell me to follow after Remus? How was that not meaning for me to get eaten?"
"Look, he only meant it as a prank."
"A prank that would have had me dead and Remus a murderer!"
A flash of pain crossed his face at the mention of what could have happened to Remus. So, was it knowing Remus would be a murderer rather than knowing his own brother would be killed that caused James to react? Both, perhaps, but he was having trouble handling the one who stood before him without my having him remember the other? I lost more control. "Have you no faith or trust for me?"
I never should have said those words. He looked away, refusing to meet my eyes, and I knew that was exactly the reason why he never told me. So many things made sense then; why James tried to remain so connected to me. It was because he was making a sparse attempt at cultivating trust, even if it was just to ease a bout of guilt from knowing he was closer to his friends than his brother. I, who would never purposefully betray him, could not be trusted. I did not trust anyone, but I could be trusted. There is a difference.
"So be it," I said in a quiet, calm voice. James looked at me; surprised my mood had changed so quickly. I straightened to my full height, towering over him by a full head. "So be it." I turned away from him and started to walk back to Hogwarts Castle. Two steps and I realized a burning pain seared through my leg as it buckled and nearly folded in half beneath my body. The pain travelled through my entire body like a bolt of lightening. My vision flooded with a red tinge as I threw my hands out against a tree trunk to steady my balance. I heard James hiss behind me. His shrill words were filled with a panic I began to feel in that moment.
"You--you were bitten?!"
I forced my own panic into a cold anger. "Leave off," I snarled as James reached out to steady my limping. I jerked my hand free of his grasp and stubbornly pushed away from the tree. He reached out again and I glared at him over my shoulder. He froze, short of grasping my upper arm. "Haven't you done enough harm?" I asked. My voice broke in the middle of my sentence and I knew I was close to tears of pain--both emotionally and physically. He clenched his hand into a fist.
"Damn it! Sev, why do you have to be so stubborn?"
"And why can't you grow up?" James looked startled at my shouting, almost as if I had physically struck out at him. "When are you going to realize that pranks and mischief are foolish, childish habits that only hurt people? For years I was the butt and the punch line of Sirius' jokes, and when it goes too far--what could have killed me is going to turn me into a monster--all you can say is 'he didn't mean to.' Not meaning to does not excuse the fact that it happened! From the start--in Diagon Alley, in those days when I had no name, no family, no home, no hope, and rarely any food--you never gave me a single bloody chance . . . James, you are my brother. When did you treat me like a brother as much as you treated the others?" My shouting had dropped to whispering and I was crying. "You helped me, you cared for me, and you shared, but you never trusted. Is it any wonder why I winded up in Slytherin, the House most known for being untrustworthy?" I turned away and began limping again. I heard a whoosh and James, in his animagus form, dashed past me to Hogwarts.
My vision blurred from pain after a dozen steps and I forced my full concentration upon putting one foot before the other in the general direction of Hogwarts. A few dozen more, and I stumbled drunkenly forward, leaning against trees for long intervals to gain back flagging strength. After what was actually a short time, I saw James, human once again, running back to me. Closely at his heels, one hand pressed against the top of her head to keep her straw hat in place, was Pandora, and right behind her Poppy and Albus.
James halted some paces before me but Pandora kept running. I stopped walking and stared at her. She took my face in both hands and gazed into my eyes. "How long does it take for a bite to take effect?" Pandora asked Poppy as Albus merely looked at us, watching and waiting. She knew though; her expertise lay in the Dark Arts and werewolves was a popular subject.
"About a quarter of an hour." Both women turned a baleful eye at the full moon and Pandora cursed colourfully as Albus, another expert in the Dark Arts, confirmed her worst fears.
"Any cure?"
"None that I am aware of."
"Any way to halt the werewolf's magic when bitten?"
"None that I am aware of."
Pandora wrapped both arms around me. "I'm taking him to someone who may help," she whispered before Apparating away. Double-Apparating is dangerous and draining upon both persons. How much did it strain Pandora to make up for both of us so I would not lose all of my strength or be splinched? Had I any doubt before then that Pandora did not love me as truly as she loved her real flesh and blood, it was erased that night.
We Apparated to the front door of a dark manor--not dark as in appearance, but in feeling--and without hesitation, Pandora half-dragged, half-carried me across the threshold and we entered it together. I numbly noticed the masked figure that started toward us. Pandora's wand appeared in her hand and she carried it before her like a sword. "I must see Riddle!" she snapped at the Death Eater as it drew its own wand. It hesitated for a moment and Pandora's voice rose in a shout. "RIDDLE! COME HERE!"
She pulled me through a hall and I saw, at the very end, a familiar figure striding quickly towards us. Voldemort was dressed completely in black. His cloak fluttered behind him eerily like a pair of demon's wings; I must admit I admired the effect it had, even through the cloud of pain. Behind him slithered a giant snake of a species I could not name. Voldemort frowned in curiosity upon seeing Pandora. She stopped before him and clutched me closer to herself. I felt her trembling and some part in my mind registered that Pandora had brought me directly to Voldemort--within his realm, his hideout, even--just to help me. That she should know where he was to be found is not something I dared to contemplate.
"I need a favour," she said slowly as the snake hissed and wrapped itself lovingly around Voldemort's legs.
Voldemort smiled. It was not a pretty sight. "Obviously," he said in a purring voice. His eyes flickered over to me, glanced up and down my form, and finally rested upon my leg. My robe was torn and stained with blood. He did not ask what happened; he was willing to let Pandora do everything.
"My grandson was bitten by a werewolf by accident only moments ago. You know more about the Dark Arts than I do--is there a cure for it or a way to halt it before the magic of the full moon forces the magic of the werewolf's bite to manifest in response?"
Voldemort shrugged. "It will have to be burned away and very soon at that."
"How?"
"Through power." His eyes evaluated her, piercing and wicked. The snake hissed and reared upright. Its head hovered behind his and stared at Pandora with glossy eyes. "Pure, undiluted, flowing power, and a great deal at that. Liquid magic strong enough to destroy the moon magic before it infuses with his nature."
Pandora was silent for a moment. One of her arms hugged me. "How much power?" she whispered.
Voldemort turned his back to her and caressed the snake’s head. It hissed and slid away from him, down the hallway to the door at the very end. "Much more than what you are capable of calling upon, even if you had not double-Apparated and took the full strain of it."
"Can you do it?"
Voldemort slowly turned to face Pandora. He smiled viciously. "I can, but it will cost a slight effort for me, and you know how I dislike doing anything that will give me little in return. What would you pay me?"
Again there was a long pause. Seconds ticked away. An itch ran along the surface of my skin and the bones in my body began to ache, throbbing in time with the wound in my leg. "Anything within reason."
"Your reason or mine?"
"So long as it harms no one but myself, I'll . . . I'll give you whatever you desire."
A throaty laugh. "Such an interesting choice of words. I desire, as you so eloquently put it, your bed." My head snapped up at that. Voldemort lusted after my grandmother? No, never! I would rather be a werewolf than let that monster be intimately involved with Pandora! I opened my mouth to protest, but all that emerged was a groan.
"Done. But I chose the time. When I am ready, I shall come to you."
"Then it is agreed." Voldemort motioned her away. "Now step back." She did, releasing me. Without her strength, I fell to my knees and stared dimly at Voldemort's tarnished silver belt buckle. Two hands, cold and twisted, pressed against either side of my face, and that power Voldemort is so well known for leapt from him to me.
It was not a transfer of his power to me, but a flood of it that crashed into me and was drawn back into his self in a continuous loop. It was a rape of my essence, nature, spirit, and mind. I have never before or ever will again feel so utterly defiled as I did in that moment, or even as blessed and fortunate, for the power also made me feel beautiful and glorious. The power ripped through me, from one corner of my mind to the very end of my soul, flooding everything that I was. It was a foreign power, overwhelming and formidable beyond any imagination capable of comprehending, and it filled me to the brim. It ruthlessly attacked the poisoning moon magic and engulfed it, burning it away to nothing. Voldemort's power was both sheer agony, and orgasmic pleasure. There is no possible way to fully describe the exquisiteness, the beauty, the magnitude, the pain, and the violation of that power.
In that moment, I understood something about Voldemort, what it was that he so ruthlessly sought. I could not describe it at the time, but only knew it by instinct. It was as if I had been shown a picture but I did not know the name of the object or the names of the colours and shapes used to draw it with. Then his magic was ripped away from me and I lost the vague understanding I had of him. I was left with only the impression that I knew something important of him. But everything his power had inflicted upon me was so abruptly torn from me that my eyes, vision then clarifying and startlingly bright, flew open in shock. They rolled up and I saw Voldemort's face, so utterly impassive and unmoving. Then I blacked out.
I dreamt afterward, of a little boy crying in the corner of a cold building. He was tired and sore, lonely and feeling hated. But above that was fright; fright of another violent rape from older children and fright of rape from the adults in charge. I understood all too well that fear, being all too familiar with it myself.
Yet there was more. There was fright of being beaten and blamed for the perverted desire others held in him, and fright for what he did when he lost control. Even at that small age, this child possessed an enormous amount of power. It appealed to others as it called out to them and aroused them in unknown ways; so great was this power that it even called out to Muggles! This child vowed he would make such persons--such imperfect persons with horrid, glaring flaws--suffer as he had suffered and know fear as he knew it.
What was the meaning of this dream? Did what my knowing about Voldemort reveal itself into something I could interpret? Why did Voldemort ask Pandora for, in payment, her bed? Why did Pandora directly seek Voldemort for help about my becoming a werewolf when she was used to Remus' condition?
I had said before that Voldemort burned Dinsmore to the ground in rage and sorrow. Why rage and why sorrow you might wonder? Because that child, a part of Voldemort he was never able to be rid of or distance himself from, desired to understand this pleasure that others sought from him through the only woman who could ever be close to his equal in either power and cunning, someone whose power called out to arouse him as his own power did to others. He must have cared for, if not loved, Pandora for he gave her leeway no other soul was granted. He saved my life twice and gave sanctuary to James, never directly fought Pandora, would stop his terror when she went to him, told his Death Eaters to leave her be, and perhaps granted her the knowledge of where to find him.
Rage, for Pandora betrayed him that night, and sorrow, for Pandora betrayed him that night. One means more with the other and there is no denying either. Pandora gave up all that up and even more in order to destroy Voldemort. There are those who say she did so to create peace for the wizarding world, but I know she did it for James, Lily, and you, Harry; especially you, her great-grandson.
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I awoke some time later in Hogwarts infirmary. White curtains were drawn around my bed like shields against the world. I slowly sat upright and felt for my leg. There was scar tissue where the flesh had been torn away from my limb, but it did not ache anymore. I reached over and drew back the white curtains to see Poppy speaking softly to Frank.
Why could Neville Longbottom not have taken after his father? Frank was so sincere in helping others, in trying to be friends with me no matter how distant I tried to make myself. Frank had a strength that would not bend to anyone--not me, not his mother--and he tried so hard to please everyone.
Frank glanced over, brightened immediately upon seeing that I was awake, and hurried over to my side. Without saying anything, he thrust a letter to me. A quick glance at its seal told me Pandora had written it. I stared at the letter for a long time; what was it about? What would she tell me after I had inadvertently forced her into a position where she had to sell herself to Voldemort for something only he could do?
Frank looked expectedly at me. He waited for me to read something Pandora had entrusted him with. My hands shook only slightly as I tore the seal and unfolded the paper. It was brief, simple, and painfully empty.
Severus, I have gone seeking important information on the depths of Voldemort's power as well as the Dark Arts he used to change himself. Through this I may hope to find a way to stop him. I do not know how long I will be; perhaps some years. I have arranged trust funds for both you and James. I know that what happened recently has hurt you deeply, and asking you to forgive James would be useless. Please though, for my sake, behave cordially towards him. Actions that reflect your resentment and pain, meant to hurt him as much as you have been hurt, will only drive the proverbial wedge further.
Love you dearly
Pandora
That was it. No mention of whether Sirius was punished, or what Pandora had done to rectify the matter of my nearly being killed, or James performing illegal magic. Not, of course, that I expected anything done from the woman whose knowledge of Dark Arts was not exactly limited to the legal things. I did not know how to react. I quietly folded the letter when I finished reading it, laid back onto my bed, and went to sleep again.
After that, I tried to methodically cut any bonds still existing between James and myself. After what happened, I believed I would never be able to trust as I once could have. For that it would do no good to remain close. I stopped all tutoring sessions cold, avoided James whenever he tried approaching me, or looked over his head or beyond his form when I could not avoid him. Lily asked me what happened, but I merely stared at her until she left. I ignored the others, though Frank, ever stubborn, still remained latched to me. I knew he would not be able to maintain the closeness after he graduated though. Remus tried to approach me and say something, but he I avoided as well. Sirius I had little trouble with, as we seemed to agree the best thing to do, given the circumstances, was to pretend neither one of us existed.
The year ended with only a few letters from Pandora. Minerva accompanied us home. She stayed a few weeks at Dinsmore to show us how to financially run the property. James and I were polite to one another whenever we were forced to speak, but once Minerva left, days would pass when we did not see one another. I did not seek out the family portraits, and when Severus and Oliver inquired after my absence, I coldly informed them that if they cared to know what happened, they could ask their beloved flesh and blood.
It hurt to cut those ties but I could not afford closeness with them. If I were to cut the binds I had with James, I had to cut the binds with everything else. James came, part and parcel, with Pandora and the whole of Dinsmore. To leave one, I would have to leave all.
I felt I could handle this. What was leaving this place and making my own way in the world compared to living on the streets? At all times I compared my life with those harsh years of existing in the slums. Remembering how dangerous trust was, I decided I had made the correct decision.
The sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts passed fairly quickly. To me, they were blurs of lonely studying sessions, boring classes, and time spent in avoiding Lucius and his cronies. Without the protection of the Gryffindors, their allies within Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and Frank, it was open season for adopted gutter rats like myself. Even given the situation of my being a Slytherin, it was still not enough to protect me from ambushes, open mockery, and established superiority/pecking orders.
At the end of the seventh year, James and Sirius were accepted into the league of the Aurors, and were trained by Frank. They were joined with half a dozen other neighbourhood children Pandora had trained Defence Against Dark Arts to at an early age. I was content to stay home at Dinsmore for a while, waiting for Pandora to find what she so desperately sought and not too willing to leave until it was found. After all, someone had to manage the estates and the Snape investments of wealth while James was off to fight Voldemort, whose reign of terror had increased sharply since Pandora had left.
In my spare time, I took over Pandora's old job of introducing the idea of magic-born children with Muggle parents. With my dark appearance and aura of suspicion, and the fact that was I serious and honest, people were torn between believing me and not believing me. However, I am proud to say that, even given the circumstances, I was quite convincing. I leaned here the best way to make a person listen is to command their absolute attention, be it through fear or admiration.
Other than that, I possessed far too much spare time, and so most of it was spent at Dinsmore, wrapped in some of my own research and studies. I liked anything I could experiment with, really. Transfiguration, charms, potions. I could tell Francis dearly wished to join in on my experiments and exchange theories and ideas, but I refused to speak with him. I imagine the family was hurt that I would no longer have it be apart of my life, but such was my decision and at least the family respected it.
Due to my solitary nature, few people came to visit. There was the random visit from Frank, who stubbornly came bearing sugary snacks and tales of his Auror adventures. He was the only one outside of family who refused to give up on me. James came by also, once or twice a week, usually with Lily or Sirius reluctantly following after. As I looked back on those days, I would have to say Lily and James getting married was no surprise; we were making bets in fourth year at Hogwarts on their wedding date
It was quite a surprise to me that Lucius, of all people, would come calling on one bright May morning that found me tending Pandora's tiny herb garden. He came down the dirt path, his hat pulled down low over one eye and a cane swinging freely from one hand.
"Good day, cousin!" he called to me, standing to one side of the garden. I glared belligerently at him. I had never known him to be polite to me before and that he should call me cousin--something he had always refused to do before--had my street senses screaming danger. Beware, Harry, of any silver-tongued enemy who comes bearing gifts. These gifts tend to be booby-trapped for those too gullible or stupid to realize how untrustworthy the idea is and for what reason as well.
When I said nothing, Lucius scowled at me. "Have you no words for your cousin?" he asked.
"Pardon me for my rudeness, of course I do: get the hell off my property."
Lucius' expression darkened. "I bring some information for you and your brother about Aunt Pandora and I am told to get the hell of your property?" His eyebrows twitched. "If it's your property, does this mean Aunt Pandora is dead? Odd, I had always expected James to inherit." I went back to tilling the soil for planting, ignoring the words that flitted over my head. "After all, you may have the Snape name, but you're still a dirty whoremonger's bastard that Aunt Pandora took in." There was a moment of silence. "Unless," he added brightly, "you were not taken in out of a moment of charity, but because Aunt Pandora has an exotic appetite for a young boy's flesh."
My head snapped up and I glared daggers at Lucius. My effort to convey my resentment and disgust towards the slander he painted on Pandora was in vain, for Lucius turned his back to me with his hands on his hips at that moment and surveyed the Dinsmore property. "Not a bad place here," he said. "A tad small, but nothing shameful about it. I understand the cottage is magically enhanced to be larger inside than outside."
I snorted. That was not true; two floors of the cottage were apart of the underground complex that ran for many kilometres beneath the ground, across the land. Besides, he used to visit it during the holidays before Romono had become overly upset with James’ and Sirius’ pranks. "Of course," he added as an afterthought, "if Aunt Pandora did like young boys, I think she could find much better than vermin-laden disease-stricken bastard like you."
I snorted again. "You seem to be quite the expert on liking young boys," I said casually. "Could it be that you are an expert on the subject?" Lucius scowled at me and I contrived to look innocent (not that this ever worked before in my life). "I wouldn't be surprised; it must be hard being a testosterone-pumped male unable to find a woman sufficiently lacking in eyesight and intelligence."
If there is anything admirable about Lucius, it is that he has a marginal control over his temper. His eyes narrowed dangerously at what I said, then he smirked. He slipped his hand into one trouser pocket and withdrew a letter. He waved this triumphantly in the air. "After that," he said in a superior tone, "I don't think I should give you this." He tilted it enough for me to see Pandora's seal. "You may find it interesting."
I straightened upward and squinted at the letter. Lucius smiled wickedly at me and tucked it back into his pocket. "If you want it, you have to apologize for what you just said." He sniffed, wounded. "After all, that hurt."
"Unfortunately," I said smoothly, "the truth always hurts, but I cannot apologize for that. However, I express my condolences towards any harm I may have inflicted upon your inflated ego. Not that it needed a few pricks just so your hat could fit comfortably, but that is utterly beside the point."
"Utterly," he said sourly. After a long moment, he removed the letter from his pocket and gingerly held it out to me. Starved for any word of Pandora--she had not written since Christmas--I snatched the letter from his hands and tore the seal off. I should have wondered why Pandora had sent a letter to Lucius instead of myself, though I squashed my suspicion with thinking that she had contacted Romono. Even then, I should have wondered why the seal was not broken.
Beware of enemies bearing gifts. The charm placed in the wax of the seal was strong enough to knock a horse cold off its shoes. I may not have been a horse, but it worked all the more because of it.