Scar Mates

THE UNSPELLING

It was Severus, of course, who carried the boy to Madam Pomfrey, who assured them that there were no serious injuries. Dumbledore left him there in the infirmary with the boy while he went in search of the two friends who had been with Harry in the Grid. The Weasley boy had been briefly fussed over by Pomfrey, but had been sent on his way after his bumps and scratches had been treated.

A cursory examination of the two of them in the Headmaster's office had gleaned the details of what had occurred up to the point where Harry had left them. The old man had turned down their pleas to immediately see their housemate, and after sending them back to Gryffindor, made his own way back hastily to the infirmary.

He found his Potions Master sitting by the bedside, and a very wide awake Harry Potter propped up on the pillows, his eyes wide with fright. Carefully stepping closer, Dumbledore stood at his side and said softy, "Harry."

Startled, the boy flinched, then turning his attention from Snape to the Headmaster, exhaled deeply before speaking. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, what happened to...what about Ron and Hermione? I left them down in..." The boy stopped suddenly, as if searching for words.

Dumbledore patted him gently on the shoulder. "They're fine, Harry, perfectly fine. I just sent them back to your common room. Of course they wanted to see your first, but I thought we'd best put that off until later."

Snape said dryly, "I've given him this information twice already, Albus. Either he doesn't believe me or he's still somewhat stunned. I haven't asked him for his account of things, as I knew you would want to be here for that."

Dumbledore nodded, keeping his eyes on the boy's face as he took a chair on the other side of the bed. Harry looked from one to the other anxiously as they both drew in closer. The Headmaster reached out to take one of his hands, caressing it between his own as he said soothingly, "Now Harry, you've had quite a night of it, and soon Madam Pomfrey is going to give you a potion for sleep. With no nightmares, I promise." He peered at the boy over the top of his glasses. "But first, we want you to tell us exactly what happened after you left Miss Granger. Just briefly. I know it's upsetting. But it's best if you tell us while it's still fresh in your mind, child. And you'll feel better if you tell us about it. Do you understand, Harry?" When the boy nodded without smiling, he prompted him further. "Can you tell us then, just from where you and Miss Granger parted? We know already what happened up to that point."

Harry nodded again and swallowed a few times. Glancing at Snape apprehensively, he croaked out, "I drank the small bottle, and went through some black flames." He shuddered. "It was cold, and dark, but when I got through to the next room, I saw..." He stopped, the confusion spreading again across his face, and now he addressed the Potions Master directly. "It should've been you. I thought it was you. I was sure it was you, but..." he paused, his voice cracking a little as it dropped to a near whisper. "But it wasn't you," he finished in amazement.

"No, Harry," Snape reassured him. "It wasn't me. It was Quirrell all along. But what happened then, when he saw you? Was anyone else there?"

The boy shook his head, then looked puzzled. "No, he was standing in front of...no, er, yes, there was someone else. It was..." The boy's eyes grew wide as he remembered. "But it couldn't have been, could it? I mean...but he wasn't really there. It was Quirrell's body, but..." The boy stopped again, his cheeks suddenly flushed, his chest heaving as he tried to put the recollection into words.

"Harry," Dumbledore prompted gently. "Who was there besides Quirrell?"

After yet another such prompting, the boy's wild eyes fixed on the Headmaster as he mumbled, "It was Voldemort, sir, at least that's who he said..." The boy halted mid-sentence and stared into space, as if transfixed.

"Harry," the old man prompted louder this time.

Snape intervened. "Albus, this is ridiculous. He needs Poppy to put him under. He's not capable of even putting two cohesive sentences at this point."

Dumbledore was stroking his beard thoughtfully, then looked over at Snape with a glint in his eye. "Severus," he said intently, but softly. "It's imperative that we know exactly what went on and who he saw. I don't intend to risk losing his recall of it." He paused, still looking the man in the eye. "Legilimens him, Severus. I'm giving you permission this time. Better you than me. You've been in his mind before, so you know precisely what amount of force to apply."

Snape stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "All right, Albus." Leaning forward in his chair, he commanded gently, "Harry, open your eyes and look at me." When the child's eyes flicked open at his voice, the man smiled and nodded. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." When the boy's eyes rolled slightly upwards, the Potions Master entered his mind. This time the intrusion lasted longer, and once in, Snape closed his eyes in concentration as he mined the boy's memory of the confrontation.

When he finally leaned back in his chair, exhausted by the effort, he sat for a moment with his eyes closed.

Then leaning forward again, he opened his eyes and softly told the child, "Close your eyes, Harry. Madam Pomfrey is going to give you your potion now."

Turning to the Headmaster, his face was grim. "We were right. Vodemort lives."

***

Harry was given a specially formulated potion that would keep him unconscious for several days. It was uncertain how much of his memory of the night in the Grid would remain, but there was never any question between Snape and Dumbledore as to whether that memory should be modified. It was understood that The-Boy-Who-Lived had just overcome the Dark Lord for the second time in his young life, and the knowledge of this recent encounter would be built upon to prepare him for the inevitable others to come.

The child had been asleep for two days, and it had been decided that the next morning the potion would be withheld, and the boy permitted to awaken naturally. There remained just the matter of the unspelling, which the two men had agreed to conduct just before dawn. Snape had stayed away from the infirmary during the daytime, knowing that his presence there would discomfit the boy's Gryffindor friends who held vigil there. Although they had been told not to expect him to awaken just yet, they came nonetheless, true friends heaping his bedside table with candies and gifts, prattling on to him about their activities as if he were able to hear them.

Perhaps he can hear them. And if he consumes all that sugar they've brought him, no doubt he'll need an additional day of Poppy's care. Snape found himself secretly pleased that the boy had such friends, as so many other things in life had been denied him.

The Potions Master was making his way through the deserted hallways at midnight, ready to spend the night in the chair by the boy's bed, as he had the two prior nights.

He settled into the chair at the bedside, propping his long legs up on the end of the bed where the boy's legs were not yet long enough to reach. The first two nights, he had read and graded exams, but this night, this last night, he'd brought nothing to distract himself. He knew that this night, there were things that he needed to think over, and of course, the unspelling with the Headmaster towards morning.

More importantly, he came prepared tonight to have a conversation with the boy, one-sided as that was obviously going to be. He felt spurred on to unburden his soul to this child, knowing that with the connection between them sundered, he might never again have this same inclination or opportunity to do so.

It's so strange to be sitting here with you like this. You would hate it if you knew that I was even here. I can't help but think that if things had been different, you might have been my son. Well, in that case, you wouldn't be you as you are now, but you know what I mean. I do confess to having some paternal feelings for you, just not the usual ones. I have been proud of you on several occasions, and on others have felt almost fiercely protective. How much of that is due to your mother's confounded amulets is anyone's guess. But I will know soon enough. I know that it's been wrong of me to want to preserve this bond, considering the grief it has caused us both. It's true I have hesitated--it is stupid and irrational. But you understand, it was the last thing she asked of me--to protect her son--you. I will continue to do so, amulet or no, but still I am loath to relinquish it, not because it empowers me to protect you, but because it is my last link to Lily.

Albus understands. I remember when he finally showed me the one your mother made for you. There was this expectation on his face, like he was waiting for me to reveal something. He'd suspected that I had the other one for quite some time, but never let on. He can be infuriating sometimes. But given your destiny, somehow I think you will come to learn this about him all on your own.

I do not want to think about how I will be forced to treat you now. I know you think I've treated you badly, that I've singled you out for mistreatment and unfairness, but that just isn't true, Harry. Not yet. That Voldemort has managed to survive in some form is now evident, and I fear that I will have to, once again, resume my role as a turncoat. It will be expected of me to make a point of mistreating you, whenever possible, and will most likely be reported back to Lucuis that I am making your life miserable. So, given that development, I suppose it is good that this connection is about to be severed for good. The heart connection can be broken, but I fully commit myself, sitting here beside you in the dark, to maintain that connection with my will, to protect you as long as you need me.

He shifted in the dark, then brought his feet down to the floor. Leaning in, he studied the sleeping boy's face intently.

You idiot child. What were you thinking? Did you even know the peril in which you were placing yourself? And yet, you have now faced the Dark Lord twice in your short life and still live. Unbelievable. Albus has told me of the larger role you must play in the grand scheme of things. Was this narrow escape a portent of things to come? I hope not, for my sake, for I may not fare as well as you.

Lily and James would be proud of you. So deprived of all the normal things that a child your age should have, but still imbued with that indomitable Gryffindor spirit. Laying there with those Lily-green eyes closed, the resemblance to James is striking. I've always focused on the eyes, so it is Lily I see when I look at you. But now I see James. You know, he treated me rather badly, not that that is any fault of yours. But I wonder, with the tether that binds us broken for good, if I will see more and more of James in you as time passes. Hmm. That would make being hard on you a little easier for me, I think. I did despise your father. It was a dislike born of escalating abuse on both our parts. I wonder if time would have made any difference. I suppose not.

He sat in silence for awhile, lost in his thoughts, then began again.

I've told you what I've needed to say. I've needed to sit with you myself these past nights, to make sure you were all right, even though Poppy assured me you were in no danger. Perhaps someday we will be able to talk about some of these things together. I think Lily would want me to make the effort. After all, who is there left to tell you? That's a sad statement of things--that a reformed Death Eater would be the best choice to tell you about your mother. But it is true. There are others who will be able to tell you that you look like her and your father, and that you have that same Gryffindor courage and obstinacy. But I am the only one that will be able to tell you the deeper things: how her voice sounded like a silver bell when she laughed, how her green eyes flashed like emeralds when she was angry, how her heart was good, and kind, and giving, how she felt the pain of others, how she always expected the best in people, even when they'd disappointed her before. I truly hope that the future does not cheat us of that conversation. Because you should know those things about her, what an incredibly wonderful person she was. And how very much she loved you, and planned for your future.

He was silent once more, just gazing at the pale face on the sheets as his thoughts continued to wonder. Hearing a noise behind him, he listened for a moment, then relaxed. Without even turning, he slipped a hand into the pocket of his robe and withdrew the object reverently. Sliding the chain through his fingers, he brought the amulet up to his lips and pressed it there for a long moment. Then, leaning forward, he took the boy's hand in his. Laying the amulet on top of the coverlet, he sat and waited for the intruder to approach. Sensing him standing beside him, he said softly, "I suppose that it's almost time, Albus?"

The Headmaster rested his hand on the back of Snape's head. This unusually personal gesture almost undid the man sitting there. Fighting for control, he whispered, "Somehow I feel like I'm letting her down."

"Do you remember when you reminded me that you'd made a promise to protect the boy? It was obvious to me, at the time, that you were not speaking of your promise to me. You have done every thing in your power to protect him, Severus. And I know that you will be looking out for his best interests even after the unspelling. What more could she have asked for? Indeed, I think she would be very pleased, and very grateful for what you have done, and what you have pledged yourself to do in the future. It is far beyond what she intended or expected. But I would not go so far as to say she would be surprised. No, Lily knew your heart, perhaps better than even you do, and I think she would give one of those little knowing smiles she was so prone to give, and say that she knew the devotion you felt for her would have you go the extra mile."

The old man pulled up a chair and sat beside the Potions Master, who seemed unaware that he still held the boy's hand. "I'm going to have to hurt him, Albus. Now that we know that Voldemort endures. I'll be drawn back into the whole bloody mess, I just know it. There will be a part for me to play once again, and it will require me to hurt the boy. I wish it could be otherwise, but I'll need to maintain the appearance of despising everything he represents. He thinks he hates me now, but he'll truly hate me then."

Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "Perhaps he will for a time. But when he is old enough, he will come to learn a great deal that cannot be entrusted to him now. And remember, Severus, that once the amulets are undone, it may be much easier to play the role required of you."

They waited in silence. It was the small hours of the night, and Dumbledore, knowing that they still had time, did not push. Madam Pomfrey, who had given the boy just enough potion to keep him unconscious for the night, had been cautioned not to disturb them at the bedside. The old man watched the boy sleeping peacefully, and when he noticed Snape finally release the boy's hand, he stood and walked to the other side of the bed. Stationing himself by the boy's left hand, he looked up and nodded at the younger man.

"It is time, Severus."

Snape arose and took his place opposite the Headmaster. He watched as the man withdrew the boy's amulet from his pocket and placed it beside the other on top of the coverlet, twining the two chains together. He brought the boy's hand up to rest upon them, then nodded to Severus who then covered that hand with one of his own.

The Headmaster brought out his wand and held it over the pair of hands. Murmuring a brief spell, the tip of his wand glowed as he drew it across first Snape's, then the boy's hand. The Potions Master felt a faint twinge of pain, but the sleeping boy did not even stir. The pair stood immobile as they watched the thin trickles of blood intermingle. Still clasping the boy's hand, Snape took out his own wand, then nodded to his partner that he was ready.

Beginning together, they began to incant the unbinding spell that Nicolas had worked out beforehand. As their voices mingled, barely audible beyond the bedside, a faint breeze wafted through the infirmary, gently lifting the edges of the coverlet. Paying the disturbance no mind, they continued the words of the unspelling.

Without warning, Snape felt his hand grow warm as a red glow engulfed the amulets. It pulsed for several moments, then faded to a soft steady aura around the stones. He sensed a strange pounding in his chest, and a breathlessness that made him suddenly dizzy. The boy stirred restlessly in his sleep, moaning softly.

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore commanded him.

With great effort, struggling against the sensations and emotions of the moment, Snape said in almost a whisper, "Cum amore medicatum dissuppobo."

As soon as the words were spoken, the glow faded till it was hardly visible, then was gone.

The Headmaster nodded to Snape, who then removed his hand. The two golden chains remained unchanged, but the amulets were now only flat onyx discs.

"Severus," the old man said to him. "End it. It is your place to do so, not mine."

Raising his wand over the remnants, Snape incanted, "Finite Incantatem."

The Potions Master had not known what immediate effect the unspelling would have on him, if any. He wasn't, however, expecting the flood of emotion that now moved him to action. Sitting alongside the boy on the bed, he gathered him up once more in his arms, and wept.

The Headmaster watched the two of them, the child unaware as his protector, with tears on his cheeks, held him close. The old man experienced a sudden jolt of déjà vu, recalling not just that night in Godric's Hollow, but that night in the Grid just three nights before. He thought again of the mother's love that had bound these two together. And he had no doubt that this connection, though altered tonight, would somehow endure.