A Father's Sin

WARNING::  This chapter contains references to subjects that some people may not like (rape/murder). Also, this is a VERY dark chapter, especially toward the end. You have been warned.......

A Father's Sin

by Severitus

Chapter 5 ----And the World Crumbles

            "So. You know," Snape said, flicking his black gaze briefly to the penseive and then locking it back onto Harry's panicked green eyes. For a moment Harry stared at the man in confusion, surprised to find that he wasn't furious, merely rather annoyed at the moment.

            "I...yes...some of it," Harry replied, and Snape turned slightly and sat down in his chair, letting out a deep sigh.

            "I assume Dumbledore answered the question you asked me the other night," he stated icily, and Harry leaned further back against the cupboard before nodding slightly. "Now...why are you down here prowling about, when you already have the answer to your question?" Snape asked, and when he turned to look at Harry once again, anger had begun to fill his eyes, growing darker with each passing second. Harry swallowed quickly, unable to stop himself from shaking under the Professor's fierce gaze.

            "I---looked through a figurine that belonged to my mother, and I saw the Death Eaters capture her," Harry stuttered, his heart hammering, and was thoroughly surprised when he looked up and saw that some of the anger had drained from Snape's features, replaced by a mild surprise.

            "And you thought I might have seen what happened to her," he said after a moment, his voice still flat and cold.

            "Yes," Harry said quietly, leveling a wary gaze at his professor. In every right, he should have been expelled by now. Why was Snape being so civil all of a sudden? Harry thought that it was certainly not a good sign; perhaps Snape had something especially nasty in mind as retribution. However, when Snape continued, Harry could do nothing but stare blankly in reply.

            "Sit down Potter, simply out of respect for your mother and to keep you out of my office, I will answer your questions. However, if after I have explained it all, I EVER catch you snooping around down here, or hear a word breathed of it again, I WILL have you expelled. Is that quite clear?" he said, his voice transforming into a deep growl at the last. Harry nodded quickly, and dashed around the desk to sit in one of the two chairs there. Once he was seated quietly, he looked across the desk at his teacher once again, nearly trembling with fear and confusion. "Well? What are you waiting for?" Snape barked, and Harry jumped slightly, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of the chair.

            "Okay...um, what happened to her? I mean, aside from...." Harry said, and Snape looked reluctant at first, but leaned forward and folded his hands on the desktop, his eyes staring down at them.

            "What do you think? You came close to having a sibling born to serve Voldemort," he hissed angrily, nearly spitting the name, "She was returned to her home, just the same as the others. She resisted all attempts of a memory alteration, just as she resisted the Imperious Curse," he added flatly, and then fell silent, awaiting the next question. Harry blinked, allowing Snape's first bitter reply to sink in.

            "Why her...?" Harry said, his eyes sliding out of focus, once again remembering that look of pure fear....

            "Your mother was extremely powerful, as were the other four you saw with her. Voldemort awarded them to his most powerful servants, as a reward for their loyalty," he paused again, and then leaned back in frustration, rapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Forget what I said earlier, Potter. I will not answer your questions. I am going to explain to you what happened, and then you are going to leave immediately. Understood?" Snape asked, and Harry nodded dumbly. After all, did it really matter how he got his answers? If Snape was going to tell him outright, it'd be best to simply count his blessings.

            "Yes, Professor," he replied, and Snape nodded in grim satisfaction.

            "Good," he said, and leaned back in his chair again, lacing his fingers beneath his chin. "Your mother was captured for two reasons. One; her power, and Two, the main reason; she was a Muggleborn, and to Voldemort, impure. Voldemort had it in his mind to purify all the 'impure' by adding his power to their line, and consequently, insuring his future reign. Your would-be sibling would have been considered the very purest of the pure, despite their mother's blood, simply because their father was a Death Eater," Snape paused for a moment, eyes swirling as he gathered his thoughts. Harry perked up as a question formed in his mind, and he decided to risk asking it.

            "Professor...Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned that many of the women died, and also kept referring to the 'remaining' Serpent's Children--" Harry began, and thankfully Snape wasn't angered by the question.

            "Yes...as I'm sure you're aware, for even YOU aren't that dense, the captured women were raped. Many of the Death Eaters thrive on pain; even find a twisted pleasure in causing it. That's why so many follow the Dark Lord, for the chance to cause pain, to torture and kill. Many couldn't resist the temptation that a helpless 'mudblood' provided, and some were tortured beyond belief, even outright murdered," Lowering his head, Harry stared at his hands, fighting against he nausea and disgust in his stomach. Had his mother been tortured too? Had she been screaming in agony, just like the ones he'd heard through the penseive? Snape's face seemed to pale further as he spoke, his eyes momentarily lost in a void of memory. "As to the Serpent's Children, that's different. That actually wasn't Voldemort's doing. Once the Ministry found out about Voldemort's plan, they launched a massive campaign against him, determined to root out each and every child born of the union. It was one of the darkest points in the Ministry's history, and also the reason why very few look kindly upon its officials," Snape said, and his eyes narrowed in disgust, a muscle in his cheek twitching slightly.

            "Why's that?" Harry ventured, and Snape continued.

            "They murdered children," he said, his voice very low and grave, "Dozens of them. Each and every child suspected to be of the Serpent were slain without question. It was discovered later that most of them were innocent. There is only one sure way to identify a Serpent's Child, and that is by a small mark in the shape of the Serpent, and that is something easily disguised. That little tidbit of information was never released, the Ministry didn't want anyone rising up against them any more than they already were," Snape said, and Harry gaped at him in shock. He'd noticed that the Ministry was often spoken of in a questionable fashion, but he'd never dared to ask why. Never had he imagined anything of the sort, nothing even remotely as horrible as the murder of innocent children, children not even given the chance to rebel against their fate.

            "Did they...torture my mum?" Harry asked quietly, and Snape shifted uncomfortably, finally settling for staring at the desk with half-closed eyes.

            "No. She was not tortured," he said simply, and Harry glanced at him in curiosity. Snape's face had gone slack, now filled with a very obvious pain. Finally, he began to explain, though he didn't look up even once, "Your mother and I were friends of a sort, back when we were students here. We began studying together our first year, she would help me with the subjects I had trouble with, and I would do the same for her. If I remember correctly, she was the only reason I passed Charms," he said, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips, "When Voldemort ordered his followers to begin capturing powerful Muggle-born witches, I was one of his top servants. I was granted the privilege of choosing among the most powerful, and I chose your mother," Snape said, and his gaze flicked up to watch Harry. Harry only gaped in return, staring at his teacher in disbelief. "I hadn't much choice in the matter. It was required of me to take at least one of them. I knew what the other Death Eaters would do to her, I had seen the results time and time again. The least I could do for her was to take her myself, without pain. She never saw my face," Snape said quietly, and Harry thought he knew then why Snape hated him. Why he yelled at him and ridiculed him, and yet saved his life without even blinking. He was a reminder. He reminded Snape of his mother and what he had to do to her, to a woman that had once upon a time been his friend. Seeing him was like staring guilt straight in the face, with nowhere to run and hide.

            "The Dark Lord allowed only nine of his Death Eaters to pick their victims. The rest was random. No one knew which Death Eater took which woman, except for those first few, where the Dark Lord alone knew," he said, and then abruptly stood up from his chair, palms pressed flatly to the desktop. Harry jerked in surprise, then leapt to his own feet in confusion. "Now," Snape barked, his face twisted again into its usual glare, "I hope you are satisfied. You will never speak of this to me or ANYONE again, and if I EVER catch you even remotely near my office at night, you will regret it for the rest of your putrid life. I refrained from deducting every single bloody point from your house this night out of respect for your mother, and because you, being her son as well as a target of Voldemort, have a right to know. Now get out of my office before I change my mind," he growled, and Harry instantly nodded, muttering a futile 'thank you' before dashing wildly out the door.

            Harry was halfway down the hall before he remembered to pull the invisibility cloak fully back on, but he didn't slow down once. He kept running down the hall and up the stairs, ignoring the loud slap of his shoes on stone. Thought upon thought whirled in his head, accented with images of his mother screaming, battling her captors with all the fury of a caged lion. Her face streaked with tears, wrists red and worn from the hands that held her tightly, presenting her for display to their dark master. And one thought, perhaps one of the worst of all, kept swirling through his mind, refusing to be ignored or pushed back to the recesses of memory. Snape had raped his mother. Harry couldn't help the pure rage that the very thought ignited, the pure venom directed toward his teacher, even despite everything he'd said. And the Dark Lord, Harry's hatred for him was now more than it had ever been, increased tenfold. He had hated the Dark Lord for killing his parents, even vowed an impossible revenge. But now--now that he knew the Dark Lord had not only murdered them, but ordered his mother to be violated in such a way---Harry struggled to force his thoughts away from it, to clear away the crimson that edged in on his vision.

            Stumbling lifelessly into Gryffindor tower, Harry paused just inside the portal, leaning against the wall for support. He still felt sick to his stomach, and at the same time, he felt vaguely dead inside, frozen with shock.

            "Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione said, her face twisted in concern as she approached from a nearby couch. Harry looked up, struggling to focus his eyes and drag himself up out of his thoughts.

            "Huh?" he muttered at first, then struggled to wet his dry mouth, "Yeah...I'm just a little shocked. I'll be okay," he muttered, and now Ron was standing too, watching him worriedly. Straightening up, Harry made his way to one of the high-backed chairs and flopped down in it heavily, turning his gaze to the fire. Ron and Hermione stayed watching him from their places, unsure whether to believe him or not. "Well? Don't you want to hear what I've found out?" Harry said tiredly, and the two took their seats nearby, silent at first.

            "Harry, you sure you want to talk about it now? I mean...you look pretty pale," Ron said, but Harry shook his head, then removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes slightly.

            "No. Now is best. I want to get it over with," he said, and they nodded, leaning back and waiting for him to begin. A moment later he began, telling them first about the boy he'd seen near the Quidditch field, and then about the murdered women. At the very last, he told them about the ministry. He didn't mention one word about his mother, or about Snape. When he'd finished, they both realized that he wasn't telling them something, Hermione especially looked worried, but he remained stubbornly silent. They didn't ask any questions, and they didn't make any comments, excepting one by Ron about the Ministry. Afterward, they sat in silence, either staring at the floor or the fire. They had all their answers about the Serpent's Children, but they didn't know what to do with it. The prophecy was still a mystery, and in all truth, they had each learned more than they had wanted to. Ron was the first to snap out of the daze, standing brusquely and stretching lightly.

            "Maybe we should all go to bed, think about it more tomorrow," Ron muttered, his eyes downcast and uneasy. Harry nodded and rose too, but Hermione stayed sitting, staring at her feet and twisting her hands nervously. Harry hadn’t noticed at first, but she looked absolutely terrified. Her skin was pale and her eyes shown dully, shining wetly in the firelight.

            “Are you coming, Hermione?” he asked, and she sucked in a shaky breath.

            “Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked softly, though her voice was clear with resolve. Ron shifted uneasily, and Harry stared at her warily, a slight twinge of fear trickling down his spine.

            “I’ll see you in a few then, Harry,” Ron said, then turned and fled silently up the stairs. Harry stared after him for a moment, for some reason feeling as if his last chance for escape had fled. Escape was indeed what he longed for; he didn’t think he could handle any more earth-shattering news this night. But nevertheless, he stayed, settling back down into the chair across from Hermione.

            “What is it?” he asked, and Hermione looked up in reply, her gaze once again firm and unrelenting.

            “What did you leave out?” she asked, her voice both soft and firm at the same time. For a moment, Harry stared back, his eyes swirling with indecision. It seemed as if Hermione was desperate to know for some reason, aching to dispel some thought or belief. After what seemed like hours, he nodded solemnly, and relented.

            “My mother was one of those women,” He said at first, and Hermione’s eyes instantly widened in horror. “Snape told me that I almost had a sibling born to serve the dark lord....” Harry said, and gave a dull, humorless laugh. “Want to know how he knows that, aside from the obvious?” Harry asked, and Hermione nodded haltingly. “Because he was the one who raped her,” He said, anger transforming the words to a growl. Hermione gasped sharply, her hands flying up to her mouth. She began shaking as Harry sat there, glaring at the fire as if his rage fueled the flames to greater intensity. “Now it seems I have a reason to hate him,” Harry said flatly, eyes never once leaving the flames. If he’d glanced up, he would have seen Hermione’s horrified expression, and the tears that began leaking down her cheeks before she hung her head to stare at the floor. “He said he did it so that she wouldn’t be harmed, so she wouldn’t be at the mercy of one of the other Death Eaters. Imagine that,” He said dryly, and Hermione stifled a loud sob, shaking her head slowly back and forth.

            “Harry...I’ve got to tell you something,” She said softly, her voice threatening to break. Harry looked over at her, the anger disappearing as concern for his friend overtook his features.

            “What is it?” he repeated, and she reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, but she kept her head lowered, staring down at her feet.

            “Remember when you got called away from Transfiguration the other day? To talk to Dumbledore?” she asked, and Harry nodded slowly, brows lowered with confusion. “She taught us that ‘Revelo Veritas’ spell, to see through glamourie?” she added, her voice strengthening slightly as she spoke.

            “Yes, which you still haven’t taught me....” Harry muttered, anxious for her to go on.

            “For a good reason!” Hermione snapped, and Harry sat back, watching her wide-eyed, “I lied to you, I did cast the spell right. But when I saw you....” she began, and her voice broke into a weak sob, Harry stood up to go and put a hand on her shoulder in comfort, but she jerked up and shook her head, again wiping the tears from her eyes. “No, I’m alright,” she said, then hung her head a little again. “You’ve got a Glamourie spell on you, Harry...I saw through it with that spell McGonagall taught us,” she said, and Harry stared at her blankly, unsure exactly where things were going.

            “So? Probably just one of Malfoy’s pranks....” Harry muttered darkly, already vowing revenge for the slight. Hermione positively glared at him then, her eyes sparkling dangerously.

            “No, you don’t understand. This spell was cast a long time ago--”

            “How do you know that?” Harry asked, eyeing her curiously.

            “Because you ARE the spell, Harry! The spell hides everything about you, everything but your scar!” she cried, and Harry stared blankly, leaning slowly back in his chair. “What you see in the mirror, what everyone sees when they look at you, that is the spell!” she finished, tears once again brimming in her eyes.

            “I...I don’t understand....” he managed, struggling to focus his thoughts on her words. Nothing seemed to quite sink in though; it was again as if a strange haze was muddling his thoughts, shattering them before they'd completely formed.

            “When I looked at you that day, I saw a complete stranger. I only recognized your eyes and the scar. That’s why I’ve been acting strangely toward you, that’s why I haven’t taught you the ‘Revelo Veritas’ spell,” she said, and fell silent, watching him with fear clearly visible in her eyes. He opened and closed his mouth slightly, then began rubbing his temples, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

            “No, that’s impossible....” he said finally, “Why would anyone do that to me? What purpose is there?”

            “You have the mark of the Serpent,” she whispered, and Harry stalled his protests, his eyes frozen on Hermione’s pained gaze.

            “What?” he asked, his voice slurred with disbelief.

            “On your forehead, just between your eyes,” she whispered, looking down at the floor again. Her hands were twisting the cloth of her robes, threatening to tear it if her grip became much tighter. Harry fell back in the chair, eyes wide and unblinking. Everything seemed fuzzy, as if the whole world was sliding steadily out of focus. It was as if his mind had shut down for a moment, halted in shock as the massive revelation overtook his mind, banishing everything but that one pivotal piece of information.

            “I’m...one of them...?” he asked weakly, voice barely above a whisper.

            “You are one of the Serpent’s Children, Harry. You know what that means....” Hermione began, her voice perfectly calm and grave.

            “Of course I know what it means!!” Harry snapped, his face briefly contorted in anger. Hermione was watching him like a frightened lamb, her eyes wide in shock. Harry sighed and hung his head in his hands, shocked by his own violent reaction. “I’m sorry, Hermione….”

            “No harm done,” she said quickly, though she still trembled slightly. Harry was shaking as well, his hands trembling from their place on the back of his head, fingers wound tightly through his hair. Nothing was said for a long while, and the embers in the fire began to grow lower, shrinking down as the night grew deeper.

            “Are you sure?” Harry asked at last, though Hermione knew he wasn’t referring to her statement.

            “Yes,” she said, nodding slightly. Her eyes were cast toward the ground, studying the moving shadows across the stone.

            “Then my entire life is a lie,” he whispered, and Hermione jerked her eyes up. He was staring at the fire once again, the flickering light dancing within his now dull, green eyes. An eerie calm seemed to have settled over him as he sat there, his mouth drawn in a tight, thin line. Standing up slowly, he didn’t blink once, but rather turned and began walking toward the stairway, stopping only once he reached its foot. “Thank you for telling me, Hermione,” he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. He meant it sincerely, but Hermione couldn’t stop her own tears at the look of pure, raw pain she saw in his eyes. For a long while after he’d disappeared she sat there, head in her hands as she sobbed, tears sparkling in the ever dimming light.

*

            Harry felt like he was dead, as if the very life had been sucked out of him and his body had forgotten to stop working. 'This must be what the Dementor's Kiss is like,' he managed to think as he passed through the bedroom doorway. Ron was already asleep, tucked safely under the covers with his mouth hanging slightly open. Bright light from the half-moon outside shone across the worn, stone floor, magnifying every shadow to otherworldly proportions. Everything seemed hazy, almost surreal as he passed through the room. Things that were normally ignored now seemed almost horrific, closing in on the world like the creeping shadows of evening. Nothing seemed real. It was as if the world had transformed into some nightmarish dreamscape, lost in a moment of perfect quiet, waiting for some hideous thing to erupt from the shadows and rend everything down into darkness.

            The bed was soft, Harry noticed as he lay down on his side, not bothering to change out of his robes or shed his shoes. He was facing the nightstand, where the moonlight was reflecting in a multitude of colors through the crystal lily. The lion was there too, still pacing aimlessly between patches of light and shadow. Harry shut his eyes tightly, curling his hands into fists around the edge of his pillow. Was it real? Was any of it real? Would he wake up in an hour to find himself locked in the Dursley's cupboard, still orphaned by a car crash? There were no answers. No longer was he comfortable to believe in anything he'd been told. After all, it could turn out to be a lie too, couldn't it? Everything else was. His entire life seemed to be a falsification, a fabricated truth shaped to please those around him, those more powerful than him. Maybe there was no such thing as magic; maybe the last four years had been nothing but a dream. After all, he was just the boy who lived under the stairs, wasn't he? Harry wished it were so. He wished he could wake up never having heard of the Serpent's Children, of Voldemort, of Dark Wizards and Aurors and parents that supposedly loved you enough to die for you.

            Had his mother known? He wondered. Had she known the minute that he had been born, that he was something evil, that the Serpent's Mark identified him as the spawn of a Death Eater, and not her husband? Had James known about her capture in the first place? Even after so many questions had been answered, there seemed to be no end to the confusion that roiled within Harry's mind. He couldn't understand, couldn't even fathom what it all meant. The Serpent's Children had been bred to serve the Dark Lord. He'd been bred to serve him, born of hatred, fear and pain rather than the newly wed love of James of Lily Potter. He was something evil; a twisted creation tainted with the power of the darkest wizard ever to wield a wand.

            Harry curled up tightly, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. It felt as if he would break to pieces from the violent trembling that shook his body, with every muscle tensed as if cringing from an imminent beating. He wanted to yell out, to scream at the top of his lungs until the pain and confusion shattered like a million shards of glass; but he couldn't cry. There were no tears in his eyes, no wrenching sobs caught in the dry depths of his throat. The dead cannot cry after all, and neither can snakes. Serpent's have no tears, no way to show the world the pain they bear, no way to release the well of emotion buried deep inside, desperate to burst free. They are cold, silent, and lay curled tightly in the dark just as Harry upon his bed.

            Gone was the tremulous image of a loving mother; gone was the idolized image of a popular father. The images were warped now, frayed and transformed; replaced by that of a woman shrieking in pain, battling captivity and servitude at the risk of her very life. And the father---the father that was not James Potter, not the star Quidditch player or secret animagus, trickster enough to rival even the Weasley twins. No--how could he be? James Potter's son would not bear the sigil of the serpent, nor have his very appearance disguised by magic, nor be lied about by his own mother in shame of the hideous truth. James Potter's son wouldn't have been curled in a fetal position atop the bed sheets, lost inside the void of his own mind as the world crumbled around him. He was not ‘Harry Potter,’ he had no right to bear the name. As he lay there, eyes clenched tightly and teeth gritted, Harry remembered what the boy in the woods had said. He‘d said, ‘Son of your enemy.’ The boy hadn’t been talking about himself; he’d been talking about Harry. But not the enemy with crimson eyes and bone-white skin, but the one that stalked the school halls, shrouded by seething hatred and darkness. His father was a man who strived to make his every day a living hell, who sneered at his pain, threw salt on every wound, and thoroughly hated him with ever square inch of his blackened heart. Before succumbing to the fatigue that only now dared to creep upon his mind, Harry realized something that made it all just a little bit worse. He had Potions tomorrow, and he’d rather face Voldemort himself than set one foot in that room...and look his father in the eye.

-----End Chapter 5----