Scar Mates

PENSIEVE DU PRISONNIER

Snape sat on his couch, musing as he gazed into the fire. As he was alone, it was an unguarded moment, and his expression betrayed the turmoil within. He and the Headmaster were meeting with Nicolas Flamel the next day. Being a Potions Master, he was more than a little curious about how Flamel had actually managed to unlock the mysteries of the amulets and the binding spell. He hoped the ancient man would be inclined to share the process with him, although all that was needed at this point was the solution itself.

He sighed, then tapped his foot in distraction. He had had difficulty concentrating on any task at hand since Dumbledore had told him the truth about Harry. Now he was entertaining doubts about whether or not the unbinding should be performed at all. Although he realized that his fate was inextricably tied to that of the boy, amulet or not, he wondered if the spell connecting them could not be used in some way to protect the child bearing the weight of such a destiny. But that course of action failed to factor in the rather unpleasant physical repercussions that would continue, were the bond to be left in place.

No, Albus is right. It must be undone. And I don't require any magical prompting to keep my word to protect him. The memory of Lily is enough.

He was rather disturbed by the old man's decision to keep the boy in the dark. Twelve is not as young as he thinks. He believed strongly that the boy should be told before he left to return to his Muggle family that summer. It did not sit well with him that the child should be so blithely unaware of what lay ahead. It was his opinion that no time should be wasted in commencing a unique training program for the boy who would need to have skills and knowledge that no other student at Hogwart's had ever had reason to learn. And although in what form the danger would present itself was not yet clear, the boy was entitled to know that it was looming on his horizon. Snape shuddered. It had been horrific enough to have been in the Dark Lord's service, to have dreaded his summoning, to have knelt in his presence not ever knowing what he would receive from that hand, blessing or pain. But for a child to know that that malevolent eye would be fixed solely on him, and that it would be his task to overcome that evil, or fail to the ruin of us all?

He shook his head, as if the gesture could clear his confusion. He had always trusted the Headmaster. But this time, he was not so sure the old man was right. Albus Dumbledore had been his north star for over ten years, but now it seemed as if the heavens had suddenly lurched.

For the second time this year, he returned to the Pensiève for instruction. This was not a pleasant memory, to be sure; he had visited it only once before, one other time when he had doubted the old man's wisdom. That time, Snape had been wrong. However painful, he found that reminding himself of the past often helped him to see the present more clearly.

Stepping to the Pensiève, he closed his eyes and stood still for a moment. Slowly bringing his wand up from his side, he touched the tip of it gently to his right temple. He opened his eyes as he drew out the slivery gossamer strand, then rotated his hand so the glimmering thread dangled and dropped into the bowel. He gave it one clockwise stir with his wand, then after taking a deep preparatory breath, leaned in to let the memory take him.

He stood in a small, dark cell, and considered young Severus who lay supine on the pallet on the floor. His arms crossed behind his head, his eyes closed, the man was not sleep. Clad in just his black shirt and trousers, the outline of his ribs was visible through the cloth stretched tautly across his chest. He looked more sickly than ever, unshaven and un-groomed for the two days that he had been confined. He was obviously on edge and twitched reflexively each time a bang or a cry was heard from the hallway and cells beyond his own. There was a tray on the floor by the door, the food untouched.

Snape jumped a little as the sounds at the door alerted him that it was about to be opened. Although he was immune to the terrors that were about to enter, he could well remember the emotions they had evoked when he'd first encountered them on this night long ago

The door was finally unlocked and thrown open, and as light spilled in from the hallway, Severus sat up with a start, the back of his hand brought up to shield his eyes.

"Severus Snape," a voice announced. "You are hereby summoned by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to answer charges against you."

As the young man stood shakily to his feet and reached to the floor to retrieve his coat, the brightness from the hallway dimmed as two tall, dark shapes filled the doorway. The shrouded figures stood just inside the door, and Severus was shaking almost uncontrollably as he donned his coat. As one of the dementors reached out a long black arm, the young man drew himself up to full height.

"I...come willingly. I have no other inclination than to cooperate fully." At this, the wraith dropped its arm, and as Severus moved forward to step out of the cell, the black escorts took a place on either side of him. They walked down the hallway with the jailer in front of the prisoner and his companions. Near the end of the hall, a voice called out to him from a cell window.

"Severus! Severus, be careful what you say in there. We have to stand together. They won't be able to prove a thing."

Severus did not even flinch in acknowledgement, but continued his pace with the guards to the end of the hallway.

Snape, however, stopped to consider the crazed eyes that peered out from the tiny cell window. He sneered in disgust at the man. "Avery, you pathetic excuse for a Death Eater. They say it was you who sang so prettily at his own trial. It served you well, as you are now a free man. The Dark Lord always suspected you were weak, and so you proved to be." Turning from the man still calling out to the retreating group, he moved to catch up with them.

The group continued through a maze of hallways that led steadily downward until they came to a large grimy door with a huge iron handle. Reaching out to turn it, the jailer pushed and the door creaked slowly inward. They walked into a large dungeon-like chamber with a vaulted ceiling and stone walls. It was dimly lit by torches, and the somberness of the room along with the noticeable drop in temperature made young Severus shiver. He had withstood the presence of the dementors remarkably well up to this point, but now seemed to quail at the sight of the forbidding chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room. At his hesitation, each of the specters reached out and took him by the arms to lead him over to the seat. He registered this contact with shock, all color draining out of his face, the shivering once again replaced with uncontrollable shaking. They steered him toward the frightful chair which he readily took, eager to have their hands off of him. He barely had time to experience this relief when he was assaulted anew by the chair itself, the chains at its arms snaking up to confine him to it. He could not restrain the gasp he gave out, but closed his eyes and seemed to call strength from somewhere deep within.

After a moment, the shaking abating, he opened his eyes to take in the scene before him. Tiers of benches rose from the floor to the top of the chamber, but these were mostly empty. Directly in front of him, the rows were filled by a few dozen wizards and witches, all in plum-colored robes with a silver "V" emblazoned on the left side of the chest. They all watched the detainee soberly, a few of them whispering to each other as they considered him sitting there. To the far left in the front row sat Albus Dumbledore, and beside him a disapproving Alastor Moody, still with two good eyes.

Severus eyes swung back to the center as a tall, dark-haired wizard stood: impeccably dressed, hair smartly parted and a neatly trimmed mustache.

Snape said softly to himself, "This was the culmination of the humiliation you had planned for me, wasn't it, Albus? You could have protested in advance, and perhaps spared me the dementors and the chaining. Yet you didn't. You knew that I needed to experience these consequences of my folly, even though I had repented." He laughed softly to himself with no trace of humor in his voice. "I don't think you realized that after what I had just experienced in those past four days, I wanted to be punished...my very soul cried out for it."

"Severus Snape," Bartemius Crouch read from a parchment. "You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law so that we may hear evidence concerning your service to the dark wizard Voldemort," he paused here, the displeasure apparent in his voice, "and testimony of your service against the same dark wizard Voldemort, to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and esteemed member of the Wizengamot."

Dumbledore came to his feet. "His service to Voldemort is not at issue here, as we've spoken of it before." He pulled a parchment from his robes. "I have here his full confession of every deed he carried out in his capacity as a Death Eater." He tapped the parchment lightly with his wand, and a copy of the document appeared magically in the hands of every sitting member of the court. As the council members began to read through it, he continued.

"What is at issue here, is that Severus left Voldemort's service well before his demise. He presented himself to me, unsolicited, at Hogwart's, and after making a full confession, voluntarily agreed to undertake work to undermine the society of this so-named dark wizard."

Crouch was glaring at the old man, resenting that his zeal for prosecution was being stymied by the revered Headmaster. "That may be true, Dumbledore, but it does not negate the fact that these atrocities which he took part in demand the full application of the law."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I am a member of this council, Bartemius, and throughout this struggle have had the mantle to act as I've seen fit, to counter the rebellion and mayhem that Voldemort was fomenting." He stopped and fixed the other man with a stare. "Is this not so?"

Crouch was not easily deterred. "Of course, we gave you full rein, to do whatever you saw fit. But a mere six weeks in your service cannot atone for the actions of..."

"And what could atone for his actions, I ask you?" Dumbledore interrupted him. "You have his confession before you, signed in my presence. I was witness to his contrition, and can tell you unequivocally that it was genuine."

There was a murmuring among the group as they considered this. The Headmaster remained quiet for a moment as they talked among themselves. He fixed his gaze on the young man bound to the chair, and the mere force of his attention brought Severus' head up to look the old man in the eyes. Dumbledore's face softened then, as he saw how the young man was suffering. He held Severus' face with his eyes, then slowly reached up to tilt up his own chin with a finger. The young man seemed to catch this small gesture of encouragement, and sat up straighter in his chair as he gave the old man a nod.

Raising his voice to be heard over the murmuring group, Dumbledore took up his testimony. "At no small risk to himself, he then continued to play his part in the Inner Circle, but reported directly to me. He supplied me with information, as well as seeding the Circle with falsehoods of my design, that I can assure you resulted in foiled plans and the saving of lives. He has redeemed himself many times over. If his actions had resulted in the saving of only one life, I should think that would be atonement enough. As it was," he spread out his hands to the group "he was invaluable. There are some of you here now, I can assure you, who would have suffered loss but for this man's actions."

The murmuring began anew, and it was clear that this last statement had produced its intended effect. Then one of the witched called out. "What of the Potters? Why was he not able to prevent their deaths? Surely he would've known?"

Dumbledore's shoulders drooped a little. "He did, on more than one occasion, warn me that they were in grave danger." His voice was sad. "We thought they were well protected, by the Fidelius. We were wrong, but the fault lies not with Severus. And since you've asked, Amelia, I will tell you without going into too much detail. Had it not been for Severus' intervention, the Potter child might not have survived the night at Godric's Hollow. On this I will say no more. But you know I would not tell you this if it were not so."

He stood patiently as the group once again began conferring with each other. After several minutes had gone by, he raised his voice once again. "Given his service to me, I ask the council to come to a vote to exonerate this man of all charges. And as further evidence of my confidence in him, upon his release, he will accompany me back to Hogwart's where he will take up the vacant position of Potions Master. He is well qualified, and will be under my supervision. I assure you that his rehabilitation will continue until it is complete."

Severus' head snapped up at this, the surprise at this revelation written across his face. He looked at the old man in wonder as humility and gratitude washed over him. They stared at each other for a moment, and when the Headmaster gave him a slight nod of affirmation, Severus could not help the tears that threatened to spill over.

One by one the members of the council fell silent as they each came to a decision. When the room was utterly still, a much displeased Bartemius Crouch stood to his feet and faced them.

Snape said with a trace of bitterness in his voice, "It stuck in your throat that I was going to be let off. But you had your ambitions, didn't you? And you knew that it wouldn't end well for you if you decided to take Albus Dumbledore to task." He laughed. "A lot of good it did you, in the end. The father of a convicted Death Eater could never aspire to the Minister's position."

"The vote is before the council," Crouch called out. "All those in favor f exoneration, indicate your vote by raising your hands."

One by one the hands drifted up, until all were raised except for that of the chairman himself. Not quite able to hide a hint of disapproval, he made the vote unanimous by his finally upraised hand. Turning to face the young man he intoned, "Severus Snape, you are hereby cleared of all charges against you by this Council of Magical Law. You will be returned to your cell until all processing..."

"No he will not," a voice rang out. "I think he's been detained quite long enough. You do whatever needs to be done, but he will not remain confined any longer. I will be taking him directly, and expect his wand to be returned to him when we leave the ministry."

Crouch was not pleased with Dumbldore's challenge to his authority, but reluctantly acquiesced. Raising his wand, he flicked it in Severus' direction, and the dementors moved away as the chains fell from his arms.

The trial adjourned, the members stood and the noise in the room increased as they chatted with one another. Dumbldore said a few words to a still suspicious Moody, then turned to make his way over to the still stunned, but free, Severus Snape. The old man stood before him for a moment, then realized that the young man was not even aware of his presence. Stooping down on one knee before him, he said gently, "Severus? Are you alright? It's over, my boy. The worst is behind you. You can let go of this nightmare."

Severus' eyes slowly focused on the face in front of him. It seemed to take him some time before he understood what the old man had said. Blinking rapidly several times, he fought to keep back the tears that were still threatening. "Professor, I can't even begin to..." he stopped, overcome with emotion and the effort required to keep it in check. He stared at the blue eyes filled with compassion, and finally gave in and let go the tears.

The Headmaster reached out then, and pulled him into a fatherly embrace. As Severus cried silently with relief...and despair...the old man told him, "Come, Severus. Let's go home."

Snape watched as Dumbledore stood and led the young man through the crowd. He felt tranquil now, as he'd known that he would. Dumbledore had never let him down, had always chosen wisely even when the path had been unclear. Snape was not going to start to doubt him now, this man who had told him on that very night when they had returned to Hogwart's, "You are my diamond in the rough, Severus. Let's see what we can make of you." He watched as the room emptied, and thought to himself, You had confidence in me when no one else did, not even myself. So, I'll return that confidence now, Albus, and trust that you know what is best for the boy.

That night, he slept better than he had in months.