Rating:: R
House:: Schnoogle
Genres:: Drama Angst
Era:: Multiple Eras
Spoilers:: Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:: Published: 05/14/2002

Updated: 07/31/2002

Words: 69,618

Chapters: 14

Hits: 7,742

A Gutter Rat's Tale

Minnionnette

Story Summary:: 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 12

Posted:: 07/06/2002

Hits:: 349

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.)

Having received a boost from the alcohol, James sat down before me once more. He cradled a strong vodka drink closely. He smiled bravely at me and gestured for me to continue my explanation. I cannot describe how wonderful that single moment was, that he should have the strength to give me trust and patience even after so many harrowing battles with others who bore Voldemort's mark upon their arms. I appreciate trust when it is granted to me, far more than I can possibly say.

"We all have choices," I said. "And I always tried to think carefully of the consequences of the choices I made." James nodded in acknowledgement. "It begins with Lucius." He frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but I waved him quiet. "I will have you know I did not deliberately seek Voldemort out. However, as Pandora Potter's grandson, Lucius believed Voldemort would be pleased if he, Lucius, presented me to him as a gift. So he made up a letter from Grandmother, and I stupidly opened it. There was a charm in the seal that knocked me out and Lucius whisked me away to Voldemort."

James nodded again to show he was paying attention as he took a sip of the vodka. "Voldemort gave me a choice: death or join him and receive anything I want." I waited to see if James would make a comment, but he remained quiet. "I decided death just wouldn't suit me. I’ve decided I’m going to haunt someone after I die. Share the misery and all that. With my luck being what it was at the moment though, I would die and not get to haunt Lucius." I leaned forward and plucked James' drink out of his hands. "When I looked into Voldemort's eyes, I knew I had to fight him; I understood then Grandmother's desperation to understand the depths of that--that monster's power. But what good would I be if I died? I would not be the first person he would have killed, and no one else haunts him."

I took a sip of the vodka and handed the drink back to James. "So I said I would join him for knowledge." I held a finger up quickly before he could speak. "Knowledge of his actions. Knowledge that could be passed to the Aurors, who could use it to their advantage in the struggle to defeat him."

James' eyebrows twitched. Not knowing if that was a good sign or not, I plunged headlong into my explanation, speaking loudly to discourage interruptions. "I would be a spy for you, James. I could give you the information you need, and if anyone asks where you got it, just tell them you have a spy. Don't tell others what I am or where you get the information. It must be a secret between the two of us. Dumbledore can't know, Lily can't know, Sirius can't know; don't even let Grandmother know. The less people who know of what I am, the less chance there will be of Voldemort finding himself in a position where he has to kill me.”

I started at him hopefully but he turned his eyes away from me, slowly sipping on his vodka. I scrubbed my face with a hand then swept my hair from my eyes. "James?" I said in a low voice. "Please, don't let my choice be in vain."

He slammed the glass of vodka on the table hard. It made me jump in surprise. James laughed, full of bitterness. "It never ceases to amaze me how Voldemort destroys our family so easily time and time again." I remained silent. He stood up and began to pace the kitchen floor. "How can you be so calm about this entire thing? That mark," he gestured violently at my arm and I pulled the sleeve over it to hide it from his view, "is a death warrant. There are those who will kill you first then ask questions later about why you were with Voldemort. I don't want to use you as a spy. It places you into too much of a risk with people doing just that."

I rubbed the Dark Mark. "It wasn't much a family when I became part of it," I said. James' countenance darkened. "What would or could be destroyed was done so before I was adopted." How utterly wrong I was. In those days, there was the matron of the Potter family and her grandsons. We had the family's cottage and the portraits. Now there is only the wealth stored in vaults, you, and I.

We are a dismal lot, at the best. I hate to write it, Harry, but between you and I, the Potter family is getting nowhere fast.

James carried his glass over to Pandora’s liquor cupboard and mixed another drink. He was silent and still had not said a word when he sat down in his chair again. I stared at him and he finally spoke. "If I use you as a spy, I would be no more different than Lucius. He used you to gain the favour of Voldemort, and I would be using you to gain the favour of, well, I'd be using you."

"It’s my idea."

"I don't like it. If Voldemort learns you’re a spy, being Grandmother’s grandson isn't going to save you. If the Aurors discover you as a Death Eater, being my brother will not save you. Either way, you’re trapped."

"And how many will die in the future?" I asked suddenly, not wanting to point out that Voldemort did know my intention of spying on him. "Right now, the Aurors are blind. You fumble in the dark, striking wildly at anything that moves. Voldemort has the advantage at the moment because he is a creature of the dark that knows exactly what is going on. How much could you change the odds if I feed you information? I could be the light in the darkness that would show you people where to go."

"I don't like using you. What if you give us false information accidentally? How will both of us feel then? What if we let something slip and Voldemort finds out? There are too many unknown factors here."

"Your biggest problem is that you don't want to use me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's wrong! It'll be just like the way Voldemort uses people. We don’t have to stoop to their petty level. We’re better than them."

We glared defiantly at one another. I shifted in my seat. "Remember how we met Lily?" I asked.

"If you change the subject, I'm going to decide this conversation is closed and will not allow it not be brought up again."

"I'm trying to make a point, you dolt, now let me finish. When Grandmother told parents that their children were capable of magic and that yes, magic did exist, she first learned how acceptable the idea itself was for the parents by watching us manipulate one another into getting the child's reaction to it. In this, we do nothing dif--"

"This is different!" James jumped to his feet. "This is not a game for us! There are too many lives and too many consequences now. We cannot afford to risk lives for a little bit of knowledge. I won't risk you. Grandmother would have my head if--"

"And it is too late now!" I jumped to my own feet and glared down at him. "I am already a Death Eater. I have sat in on plans, made suggestions, and tomorrow, I lead an attack against the Muggle Slums of London. How do I back out of this situation? I can’t. Where do I run that Voldemort will not eventually find me?" I stopped. I had started to shout, and shouting would only make the adrenaline pump faster and then neither of us would be in the state to listen. "It was my life or Lily's." That got his attention. His legs folded beneath him in shock and he dropped listlessly in to his chair. I sat down too as my voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "And now that it is my life, that will be forfeit should I turn my back on Voldemort. If you refuse to take advantage of the choice I made, then it's useless. My life will be worth nothing." I leaned forward until our faces almost touched. "Are you so bent on doing what is honourable that, when I try to leave Voldemort otherwise, I will be played with? Do you want that instead? I would rather be used as a tool that could stop him than a plaything for his amusement!"

My words struck a deep chord in James. The old mask of pain I was used to seeing in his eyes when I knew he was thinking of the time he had spent alone with Voldemort appeared. I damned Voldemort thrice over; what had he done to your father when James was only three years old? "Fine," he said hoarsely. "So be my spy."

And so it was we were once more manipulating one another, leading each other in circles, using one another for cues, placing each other in situations we needed to be in.

I waited and watched in the meetings Voldemort had me attend. I passed my acquired information to James, who would set traps when and where he could. Voldemort knew I was passing information on. He did not seem to mind. Indeed, he was rather amused by the trouble James and I created for him. He said he had not had a decent challenge since Pandora left and it was only fitting that her two grandsons should be the ones to challenge him. Knowing one of his own betrayed him was more of a game than anything else, as he would use it to his advantage for experience. He warned me though; one wrong slip so everyone knew what my true motivation was and he would punish me as he would punish anyone else he caught spying.

Voldemort found me amusing. He said I would be hard-put to amuse him after he finished wringing all my humanity out of me, and he did just that, little by little. It started with a few suggestions to plans, elevated to making dark potions for him--not potions that killed, but potions that caused excruciating pain or blackouts or numbed the victim's mind until they were as obedient as if cast with the Imperius Curse--and then I took human lives.

I never killed anyone, Harry. At least, that is not how I view my actions. I sacrificed lives. It was better than two or three people died by my hand rather than allow the whole world to be destroyed. Each time I looked directly into Voldemort's eyes and saw the emptiness within them, saw the burning need to dominate, I know those who died would be the lucky ones should Voldemort succeed. Either way, I did these people a favour. Yes, my hands are stained with blood, and I shall not I deny I am a murderer. But the only person I killed was myself, for each time I sacrificed a life to destroy the most powerful magic-user the wizarding world had ever known I felt a piece of whatever humanity Pandora had cultivated within me wither and die.

It was bad enough, I told Voldemort, I had to help him make plans to kill people, but I did not want to see the eyes of those I killed. I would lead attacks though, directing from the background away from the fighting between the Death Eaters, their target, and alerted Aurors. I had to stand before people and take their lives, rather than let them live and be used for Death Eaters' amusement. Voldemort merely snickered and told me to get back to brewing my potions.

A year passed. Lily and James got married. I did not attend the wedding; I spent all that evening distracting Voldemort who wanted to crash the wedding reception with two-dozen Death Eaters and a box of dung bombs. Voldemort did send them a snake-in-a-box contraption/toy as a gift without my knowing though. James told me when he lifted the lid of the box, a snake flew out of it into his face with a shower of sparks. He wanted to know if it was my idea to attach Tom Riddle's name to it, but I claimed I had no idea of what he was talking about.

Another year followed that. Within that year, James and I only received one letter from Pandora. We were worried something terrible had happened to her, for she never answered our letters. Upon reading what she had to say, we understood why.

Dear boys ~~
I trust you two are staying out of trouble and are marginally getting along. At least my letters are not bloodstained and for that I am grateful. Tracing the footsteps of a man who passed through almost three decades ago has been difficult. The Dark Arts of Africa and the Middle Eastern countries are extremely, well, dark. These arts are truly powerful and truly terrifying as I have never known them, and if those Dark Wizards of the past in these countries had become so skilled and adept in using these spells as Tom Riddle is, the magic world would have fallen thousands of years ago.
Little by little though, I am beginning to understand the true depths of Tom's powers. That he has a reservoir of such magic within him to use these arts is mind-boggling at the most. Immortality, necromancy, summoning; he learned Dark Arts so forbidden and so closely guarded by the natives that I spend more time trying to stay alive than researching. Make no mistake, my darlings, I do a great amount of research.
Tom's strength and power are like layers. Layers of enhancement and layers of control, all wrapped around a single core that masters and feeds them all. These layers are what will have to be destroyed. I loathe doing it, but it is either Albus or I, and only I have the ability to get close enough to Tom to do what will be needed.
So James and Lily finally got married, did they? I won the betting pool! I won the betting pool! I would like my half of the winnings deposited within my account, thank you very much. =) And a baby boy too! My gods, the merrily wed couple has been very busy indeed. I'm a great-grandmother! I shall gloat and spoil baby Harry as is my right when I come home again.
Aside from embarrassing James, I have to say I am doing well and am continuously drawing closer to a plan for stripping the power from Tom Riddle. I will not permanently get rid of his power--within him lies too much for me to, for anyone to--but I can get rid of the enhancements and controls and the power clinging to that. Every little bit will help in the long run. Unfortunately, I must stay where I am and formulate it with the material I can snatch up without notice from the natives.
Until I come home again, you two keep well, remain out of trouble, and get along.
Love you dearly
Pandora

I should mention here that you were born on your parents' wedding anniversary. Actually, there were many babies born that year, you being just one of them. Ron Weasley, your cousin Draco, Neville, and you were all born bang, bang, bang, right after one another, just in that order. Neville came as no surprise, as Frank popped up every week to babble of how his dear Alice was doing. When Neville was born, Frank got drunk and came over to Dinsmore to offer us cigars and nearly burned the house down when he attempted to light them with his wand. James and I laughed our arses off at his ineptness and it was Lily, belly swollen with you, who tossed him out on his ear.

I would like to say that Lucius made a silly arse of himself as well, but it was Romono who appeared three months before you were born to give us a bottle of Muggle wine to announce the birth of his grandson. He beamed, proud and boastful, and told us everything he could about Draco while we sent a letter off to Pandora to announce the news.

Shortly after the birth of his son, Lucius cut the amount of his activity with the Death Eaters rather drastically. He began to work, slowly but surely, to ensure Draco would receive an unusual mount of power and wealth when he eventually came to inherit. I was there when Lucius brought Draco to Voldemort to approve of. I knelt in the far off corner of the room and watched the comings and goings and listening to the news Death Eaters brought Voldemort. Lucius swept into the room, wearing his Death Eater uniform and carrying a small, squirming bundle in his arms. He presented the bundle to Voldemort as if offering him the world.

Voldemort gently pulled the blanket back. From my viewpoint, all I could see was wrinkled pink flesh and a tuft of white-blonde hair. Lucius swelled with fatherly pride as Voldemort cradled the child and rubbed various body parts with a single finger, coaxing giggles and grins from Draco.

How do all cute little babies grow up to be obnoxious teenagers? I remember thinking I would never subject to any woman the pains of pregnancy upon seeing Lily mope around Dinsmore where she and James had been living since they married. She usually had her swollen ankles propped up on one piece of furniture as she slumped over another, reading various "How To Raise Your Baby" books, which James would trip over in the middle of the night on his way to the loo.

You were born at two in the morning, after eighteen hours of hard delivery. I can remember standing beside Lily's bed as James handed you to her and kissed her on the cheek, softly saying, "Happy Anniversary."

Tired, ragged, and grumpy from just giving birth to you, Lily proceeded to strangle James for the most gruesome eighteen hours thus far of her life. She screeched the entire time on how she hated him, this was his fault, and she wanted a box of chocolate for her anniversary gift, not cramps and birthing pains. I had stayed home to help the birthing the best I could and missed a Death Eater meeting in the process. Because I was helping you-with your usual bungling timing-come into the world, I did not learn that Frank and Alice Longbottom had been targeted for a "warning". In my innocent bliss, I Apparated to their cottage to give them the news (and to repay Frank for almost burning down Dinsmore in his state of intoxication) and ran almost directly into half a dozen Death Eaters. They did not see me as they Disapparated. Voldemort's death sign hung over their cottage, ominous and gruesome. I stared at it in shock before realizing that Neville was screaming himself livid inside the house.

Fearing what lay within, I reluctantly approached the house and entered it. I saw neither Frank nor Alice, and I traced the wailing to Neville's crib. His face was blotchy and purple from his wailing as his little fists flailed about. I picked him up and he immediately stopped wailing. I did not want to search the house and discover Frank dead; I was not sure how I would have reacted to seeing what had been done to one of my few friends. Yet why was Neville left unharmed and alive? As I left the house and stood on its threshold, I felt my Dark Mark burn from a call and, without thinking, I Apparated to where Voldemort was standing by himself in the Riddle manor.

He did not look at me as I appeared by his side, gasping for breath as little Neville whimpered and clutched at my robes. I had not realized how draining it was to double-Apparate, and found myself appreciating Pandora's strength that night long ago when Remus had bitten me.

Voldemort turned slowly and looked at my bundle upon hearing Neville's whimpering. He raised an eyebrow at it. He stepped to me and pulled back the blanket I had wrapped the baby in and smiled when he beheld Neville. "Is this James'?" he asked as he promptly swiped the child from me.

"No, though his son was born tonight." He glanced quickly at me before concentrating his attention on Neville. "That is Neville Longbottom, son of the Auror, Frank Longbottom." There was a long pause. It was not wise to question Voldemort when he knew I was a spy. He would allow me to gather my own information, but to pry directly was to tread upon dangerous grounds. I had to ask though.

"Why was he left alive when Frank and Alice were attacked?" I asked softly.

"Because I like children," Voldemort replied loftily. Neville squealed in his arms. "Oh, don’t frown like that, Severus; the Longbottoms are not dead."

"No?"

Voldemort turned back to me. He smiled in amusement. "If you think I wish to risk the complete wrath of Kate Longbottom . . ." He shuddered and I was reminded of the one person who held Pandora in intimidation. “What a horrible woman,” he muttered. “I should know; I went to school with her even if she was four years behind me. She’s a Hufflepuff, which may surprise you,” (it did indeed), “but it suits her well enough, being the ill-tempered badger that she is.” He rocked Neville in his arms. “Kate was married six times but only retained her first husband’s name. Frank was born four years after her sixth marriage ended in her sixth divorce, rather late in her reproductive years. It was a horrible scandal, but no one was foolish enough to bring it to her face.”

He rocked Neville in his arms. "It is a warning to that family not to fight me," he said. "Mrs. Longbottom, to preserve her grandson, will not oppose me anymore." It was an echo of the situation Pandora was placed into and I shivered, feeling a dark foreboding for the child.

May Neville actually gain a backbone through my badgering. It shall serve him well in his later years. Better that I be the most terrifying thing he has ever known, that the idea I would punish him for betraying his friends will be what saves you all in the end. Who knows? Our actions all create ripples, which affect the future. Come what may, between Kate Longbottom and myself, Neville will learn to stand on his own two feet (or we will kill him trying).

Little by little, in the next nine months, Voldemort snuck plans and meetings past me without my knowledge. He ordered attacks on those who opposed him, and I could give James no warning to pass on. Voldemort, too, had a spy. As the Aurors (unknowingly) had me for an informant of Voldemort's plans, so had Voldemort somehow gained an informant who told him of the Aurors' deeds and actions. This brought us to a dead standstill, with the Aurors knowing what Voldemort would do, and with Voldemort knowing what the Aurors were going to do in response.

Finally, many of the Aurors gathered together in a single meeting to create a plan to discourage this. James refused to inform me where it would be and, at the time, it was just as well. Voldemort wanted to speak with me directly of a special mission.

I knelt before him as he sat on his chair surrounded by the twisting shadows. Lucius stood at his right. "Severus," Voldemort said softly as he tapped the end of his wand against one thigh, "I need a party-wrecker, if you would. Lucius here does not wish to lead and you are the only one whom I believe capable of not botching this mission."

Behind my mask, my eyebrow twitched. "A party-wrecker?" I said. "Surely that is better left to those who does not wish to retain their dignity."

"Do you question my decision?"

"No, my lord," I said, bowing deep enough for my forehead to brush his knees. "Merely that being a party-wrecker sounds rather oafish."

"Perhaps not a party-wrecker," Voldemort amended lightly as he swept one of his hands through my hair. I grimaced at his touch. "There are Muggles and Wizarding fold alike gathering together alike to celebrate this Easter holiday. I think it would do to remind these people that there is no celebration for these dark times. Kill some or toy with some, but destroy their festivities."

As I left to gather together those who would carry this mission out with me, I saw a plump little figure cowering near a corner of Voldemort's throne at the edge of the light. I recognized the form of Peter Pettygrew. I knew the distinct way he had of standing hunched over, feet splayed apart and hands clenched tightly. I strangely felt satisfied in learning this. Peter had betrayed the person who trusted him more than me. I, a child the world had killed the trust of, had blindly placed myself explicitly in that very same person’s hands. I stowed the information back in the recesses of my mind where it would rest until I informed someone besides James. As satisfied as I was in learning Peter was a traitor, I found I could not hurt my brother by informing him of his best friend’s betrayal. That I would save for Sirius Black.

Easy said and easy done was my mission, for the greater majority of it at least. There were six places I went to. I did not kill, I commanded there would be no death created by the forty Death Eaters I led, for just our destroying their festivities and teasing a few people at each place was enough to remind them Voldemort should not be forgotten so easily.

In the end, it was only a set-up. The Death Eaters had their own commands. At the first five places, the Death Eaters did as I had commanded, scaring and toying with those who were partying. At the sixth place, they attacked and killed directly. I stood in the shadows of a building and watched them flood into another building. I listened to the screams, which swiftly turned from fear into pain and agony. This was not playing--this was torture and death. I felt rage that the Death Eaters should disobey my orders and kill when I had commanded otherwise, but when I saw Sirius fall out of the front door, struggling with one Death Eater over a wand, I realized this was the meeting James had spoken of.

Voldemort knew as well and had given his own separate commands to kill in this place.

My rage turned into a chilling fear and I rushed headlong to the building. My brother was in that building, along with Lily and you! I did not care if Voldemort would kill me for helping James directly before the Death Eaters. I was not going to betray his trust this time or any other time. It was too precious and too dear for me to disregard.

Not as that wretched Peter had.

The Death Eater Sirius was struggling with threw him off and Sirius slammed into the wall. His head crashed against it with an awful crunch. He looked stunned and one arm twitched as I levered my own wand against the Death Eater and released the Killing Curse. I bent over Sirius as the Death Eater crumpled to the ground. "Are you well?" I asked. Sirius squinted at me and I wondered if the blow to his head had addled whatever little brain he used on rare occasions. I heard Lily scream and saw a flash of green light. Sirius reached up and grasped my mask as I jerked away from him and ran into the building. The mask slipped from my face into his hands, but I never noticed as I entered and furiously began to strike against Death Eaters.

The Aurors fought against their attackers, and it was a close battle even with my surprised attack at the flanks of the Death Eaters. From the moment I entered that building to the very end of the battle, everything remains a blur to me. It all happened too fast and I was too filled with desperation, fear, and anger to think clearly.

My next comprehensible memory of that time is my standing before Sirius, the only other conscience adult in the entire building. Sirius had trouble focusing his eyes and kept leaning to the side, slightly off-balanced. I held you as you gripped at my robes and buried your face into my chest, crying softly from fright. I dimly remember Lily and James being knocked out. Lily was shocked to see me dressed how I was and was struck behind for her loss of distraction, and James was out of it since he had been struck with the Cruciatus curse from three different Death Eaters at once.

"Get help," I said to Sirius. "Get help for everyone." I turned back to where James' body was curled in a foetal position on the floor, his hands twitching even while unconscious. I sunk down beside him and you looked at your father, then at me.

"Papa?" you asked.

"Needs help," I replied.

"You--you're a Death Eater!" Sirius yelled when he finally managed to comprehend the situation. "I don't trust you! I'm not going to get help with you here near James and holding Harry. You might kill them!"

I said nothing as I pulled the upper part of James' body into my lap and let you tangle your hands in his hair. Sirius, no doubt, must have felt like killing me since I was a Death Eater, but did not dare risk attacking while I held you and James both.

"I don't trust you!" He stumbled to stand in my line of vision. I looked at him and he blinked several times.

"I don't trust myself either," I whispered. "Go to Dumbledore and tell him what happened here. Get help." James twitched in my arms. "I am not going anywhere." Sirius stared at me, torn between knowing I had never before done anything to harm James and knowing I was a Death Eater currently cradling his very helpless godson. I looked at him. "I swear upon Pandora Potter's wrath, I will not go anywhere. I will stay here."

Comforted with the idea that Pandora would flay me alive upon learning I was a Death Eater, Sirius Apparated away. I do not know how long I held you and your father, but some time later a man with wild hair and a roaming Magic Eye stood before me.

"Severus Snape?" he asked, sounding uncertain of whether I was even aware he was there. I looked at him numbly. I realized I was crying. I do not know how long; perhaps I had first started crying when I retaliated against the Death Eaters as they attacked the Aurors. This surprised me because I had never cried once since leaving the slums. The Auror who stood before me seemed to be at a loss of words at the sight of this odd Death Eater shedding tears for something he was sorry for. He was silent for a moment before speaking. "I am Alastor Moody, and you are under arrest."