Nobody Knew

It was almost dawn when Snape entered his chambers at Hogwarts. Dumbledore wasn't there anymore; Severus could only hear Aurelia's even breathing. She didn't even stir; the Sleeping Potion had a better effect on somebody not used to it.

He would have to find the Headmaster before involving himself in illegal activities again. He was not going to tell him what he was about to do, but to remind himself about the boundaries he intended to step over. Just to make sure he didn't go further than necessary. Which was a lot.

He watched Aurelia's face. She resembled Theresa more than himself, but then Theresa and him looked quite alike, to a point that some people took them for brother and sister. Fortunately, Aurelia didn't inherit his large nose. Only Caia did.

Caia.

The memory of his other daughter came back painfully to him. She was most like him of all his children, in looks, talent and character. She wasn't as sarcastic, manipulative and set to control everything (as were Cassius and Aurelia), but she was quiet, studious, enjoying mostly books and the lack of company never bothered her. And she was very talented with potions. Aurelia's enthusiastic hugs whenever he was back home were a balm on his soul, but the happy gleam in Caia's eyes was special. Caia and him were the two of a kind.

His little Caia.

Snape felt tears threatening him again.

Still, no time for grief, he reminded himself in a tone of underlying regret. He didn't think he would be able to mourn properly until he had Theresa by his side. He couldn't deal with any emotion without her, it was a fact he knew well enough by now.

Without Theresa he was an emotional cripple, unable to feel the positive and unable to express the negative. All emotions would be bottled in, interacting within his heart, slowly turning into a poisonous mixture, bringing him to the brink of madness.

He had to bring her back, for his own sake and for the sakes of all those around him. His children especially. No matter what the cost, he had to bring her back.

With this thought he went to the Hospital Wing. Cassius was still unconscious and probably would remain so for another day or two. The Cruciatus, having been inflicted for a long time, could have the most severe effects; it was enough to look at the Longbottoms in St. Mungo's and have example of such effects. Snape hoped the experience wouldn't affect Cassius mental state that much. Cassius was a very strong boy, the strongest of the three, but he was only eleven. According to Madam Pomfrey, his bad physical state was mostly due to the hit on the head, not the Cruciatus, but what the curse had done to his psyche remained to be seen.

"How is he?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed, but didn't dare to offer any comfort. Snape was not the one to be grateful for comfort, never had been, even as an eleven year old.

"Better. He's recovering."

"So his physical state is good?"

"Satisfactory. Nothing endangers his life now. He just needs to rest and his head needs to remember how to work again."

"Good."

Snape sat on the chair and focused on Cassius. The boy was not pale anymore, his skin returned to its natural colour. A good sign and a relief that what had to be done wouldn't cause too much damage. Snape looked up at the mediwitch. He hated to give the impression of vulnerability, but it was for the greater good.

"Would you leave us, Poppy?"

She smiled understandingly and left.

Now alone, Snape took out a vial from his pocket. It was rather large, as the vials went. Then he picked small knife from one of the tables. It was used before to prepare one of the healing potions.

"I'm sorry, son," he said quietly, "but it's necessary. You would understand."

He immobilized Cassius' left hand and cut his forearm deeply. Watching the blood stream into the vial he monitored the boy's pulse. It was strong, but began to be erratic again. He needed just a little more...

When the vial was full, Snape healed the gash with a spell. He was not a mediwizard (quite the contrary) but the spell was simple enough so that Poppy would never know.

"It really is my best chance, Cassius," he said. He knew the boy couldn't hear him but he felt compelled to explain himself anyway. Cassius was Caia's twin and, with Severus using his blood, would sense his father's actions. "I can't bring Caia back, but I can try to save your mother. You understand, don't you?"

He wasn't so sure. What if Cassius wouldn't understand? What if Theresa wouldn't? Snape shook his head. He would deal with it later, afterwards. He wasn't going to change his mind now.

Dumbledore was sitting in his office. The lack of sleep showed on his face and the twinkle was gone. He's old, a thought crossed Severus' mind, not for the first time.

"Can I help somehow, Severus?"

"No."

"Would you at least tell me what you are planning?"

"No." He had to fight hard to keep all guilt away from his face. He had promised Dumbledore never to go back to that again. The older man trusted him and he was about to break this trust. It was fortunate that Dumbledore, being a fundamentally good person, didn't automatically expect the vile acts from the people he trusted.

"Severus, I don't mean to pry..."

"Then don't."

"You don't want my help, you don't want my advice. What are you doing here Severus?"

"You will have to reschedule my Potions class. I will be gone at least for two days."

"Of course."

"And... make sure Cassius and Aurelia are all right. If I don't come back..."

"I will."

There were chances he wouldn't come back alive. And even greater chances that he would succeed but end up straight in Azkaban.

Whatever.

"Do you want me to take care of Caia?"

"No!" Gods, don't ask any more! One more inquiry and you will know... and you will try to stop me.

Dumbledore looked puzzled at Snape's violent outburst. "I thought it was important. The Ritual and all. I would... prepare her."

Snape felt the drops of perspiration on his back. "No, Albus. If I don't come back in... a week, let's say, you may do what you think is right. But not earlier."

"But the full moon is in four days now, and Caia's..." He didn't finish the word 'body' but Snape flinched anyway. He realized that Dumbledore was in his I-will-help-you-whether-you-want-it-or-not mode.

"I prefer to do it myself, Albus. I will go home now and put several charms on her and go through the Ritual when I'm back with Theresa."

Don't let him make it out, don't let him make it out. Let him him think it's all the Slytherin superstition and a father's need of personal involvement.

"As you wish, Severus. Just... be careful."

Snape smiled grimly. "I will."

When he returned back to his chambers, Aurelia was still asleep. He went to the store-room and took the ingredients for the potions he needed to brew. Each of those potions could get him sacked or earn him a sentence in Azkaban. He hoped he wasn't out of practice.

He stepped through the fireplace with a handful of small jars and vials, as well as the books on runes and ancient dialects. The amulets he needed he kept at home.

Nothing was different about the house since that moment last evening. Even though he braced himself for the sight, seeing Caia hurt even more than before. Now he was painfully aware that she was indeed dead, that there was no hope.

He put the ingredients on the table and went to his daughter's body. Taking a deep breath he lifted her and whispered to her, "I need your help, Caia. Forgive me, but I do have to do it."

He positioned her in the middle of the floor, with her hands spread wide and then placed her wand in her left hand. He found it on the floor; Caia must have dropped it when she was attacked.

The directions in the old volume were clear and mostly familiar. He closed the book, revealing the title: 'Necromancy Rites - the Rising and the Transfer'. He was in possession of one of the world's three copies. He could still remember how he burst into Aunt Sylvia's chambers, reducing and hiding from his father as many volumes as he could. Sometimes he wished he never had time to save anything.

Necromancy, the darkest of Dark Arts. Practicing it was strictly forbidden all over the wizarding world. And he was so very talented in it; Aunt Sylvia would have said it was a second family talent. If there was an official ranking for the knowledge on the subject, he would be a Master. Although he has never attempted Transfer with himself as a Provider before, he used to perform it on others frequently enough to know what to expect.

Concentrating on the mechanics and technique, he begun to proceed with the movements he thought were long forgotten. Not at all - old habits die hard.

Draw two Pentagrams around the subject, one with white chalk, the second with black coal. Draw a star in each corner of the Pentagram. Draw the runes. Write the sentences along the lines of the Pentagram in ancient Persian and Hebrew. Place the amulets. Brew the potions. Prepare the special candles and light them in the specific order. Splash this potions around the subject, that potion on the subject; this one on yourself and drink the last one.

He worked quietly, keeping his mind on Theresa instead of Caia, taking no notice of the time. After couple of hours everything was ready. Caia was lying surrounded by runes, amulets and candles that were smelling intoxicatingly.

Severus knelt at her head with a ritual goblet of black glass in his hand. The potion in the goblet would make most of wizards back away with fright.

Now the spells. He began muttering them, switching between the ancient languages. Greek, Latin, Persian, Hebrew, Gaelic, Egyptian, Babylonian, Phoenician and so on. Each spell must have been repeated in at least ten languages, most of them in specific order.

When the double Pentagram begun to glow with the pale silver light, and when the colourful smoke from the various candles begun to swirl around the two human figures, Severus knew it was time.

He put Caia's one hair into the goblet and emptied the vial with Cassius' blood. The potion begun to seethe although there was no heat applied. One swift slice through his own arm and his blood dripped into the mixture, causing it to change colour to complete black.

"Sanguine et Venificio hoc corpus me admittere iubeo." His dispassionate whisper seemed to freeze the air; in an almost tangible silence he drank the content of the goblet. Immediately, the smoke's swirl intensified, changing into a furious, mind-numbing visual storm, standing in sharp contrast to the lack of any sound. With the world dancing around him, desperate for breath, Snape bent and touched Caia's forehead with his own.

The surge of pain that went through him was an almost welcome relief from the unnatural stillness that overcome the world around him. All spirits of all dimensions seemed to come to an abrupt halt upon his sacrilegious command. Was this death? This emptiness...? He had never bothered to ask any of the ghosts he once invoked...

The pain was a good sign, he remembered. It meant everything went all right. Couple more hours of this torment and it would be over... for a while. The pain was rising and retreating. One moment it was gripping his entire body, another it attacked only some parts. Finally, Severus blacked out.

Unsurprisingly, it was the pain that woke him up. His head was spinning, every single cell of his body ached. The faint light of almost burnt-out candles was hurting his eyes.

He sat up from where he was lying and looked down on his hands.

I did it.

His hand's were small and delicate, thin blue veins running under thin skin, bitten fingernails. No Dark Mark on the forearm. Caia's hands. He turned around and saw his own body, curled up on the floor on the edge of the Pentagram, lifeless.

He felt his... Caia's... mouth twist in some kind of expression. Not a smile, but he didn't have time to analyze what he was feeling. He reached for his wand with his right hand, holding Caia's in his left. Strange, they both felt so comfortable and familiar.

Clutching the wands he left the house. It was warm but he didn't feel it. There was a wind blowing, but he didn't feel it. He pinched his arm. Nothing.

Yes, he did it... May the gods forgive him.