Summoned

Chapter 4: School Days

"If I use magic outside school -"

"Dementors are for people who do really bad stuff...You're not going to end up in Azkaban."

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

July 9, 1995, late evening

She met him in the Astronomy Tower. He was looking through one of the telescopes, his robes billowing behind him in the cool night breeze.

"Albus."

He turned and faced her and tried to smile. "I felt a need for some fresh air," he said. "Thank you for coming."

Minerva nodded and waited. Dumbledore put his hand on the telescope and stroked it absently, his eyes staring past Minerva to some unfixed point behind her.

"We have a number of students every year," he began, sounding as if he were about to launch into a lecture, "who come from terrible homes. Many are Muggle-born, as you know. Others are half-blood. And some, like Sirius, come from wizard households rent by evil and hatred."

Minerva nodded. The wind blew and her cloak fluttered and she wondered if she should summon her heavier cloak for this little talk.

"I knew Severus came from one such home," Dumbledore continued, turning his back to her and looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. "But I had no idea of the level of - pure sadism that he came from."

Minerva wasn't sure what sort of response to make. She lowered her eyes and her imagination, already working overtime, doubled in the speed in which it produced pictures for her consideration.

"His father or his mother?"

"Both. Both." Dumbledore stood quite still for a moment, then whirled and faced her with a flame of fury in his eyes. "They tortured him, Minerva, they simply tortured him. I have seen cruelty in my life, but I have never seen a mother use the Cruciatus Curse on her own son!"

Minerva's mouth opened but nothing came out. She couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't think for a second or two. She couldn't imagine that Dumbledore had actually said what he had.

She shook her head. "Are you sure? You said you get impressions, couldn't you have misinterpreted..."

"His father beat him, his mother used magic on him. They broke his bones, then healed them and broke them again..." His voice faded, his eyebrows twitched together as if he could not comprehend what he was saying. "Can you understand the - the base evil in that household?"

"Understand it?" Minerva murmured. "No." She felt a headache coming on just thinking about it. She remembered the eleven year old boy who had sat nervously under the Sorting Hat, who had flinched whenever he reached for a piece of food at the feast, who spent his hours alone, dreaming up ways to jinx people and put unpleasant spells on them. And she realized, now, that for his entire life he had been studying and learning defense against the Dark Arts as a means of survival.

After a few minutes, Dumbledore swung the telescope around, then turned his back to her again. "I must attend an Order meeting in a couple hours," he said. "I have already discussed this with Orestes. He will - take my place with Severus tonight."

It took a second for her to understand. "Albus, surely you could miss one meeting?"

He shook his head. "Not this one, I'm afraid. There are several members of the Order who are - quite unhappy that we have not yet discerned what Voldemort does or does not know."

Minerva felt her jaw begin to clench. "Sirius and Remus will never trust him, Albus. And there's only so much -"

"You will take my place with Orestes. He, like me, is getting on in years, and he will need your powers to augment his own. You will not be very aware of what you see or find, but you need to continue wading through Severus' memories until you come to the present, and then you must find out what Voldemort knows." He turned then and gave her a look that was almost a mirror of what she herself felt.

"Severus knows the key to every charm that prevents anyone from Apparating in or out of Hogwarts," he explained, his voice quite firm. "To answer the Summons rapidly enough, he lifts the charms and Apparates. That is how I am alerted to the fact that he is gone. That information alone, Minerva, would give Voldemort unlimited access to the castle and the grounds and the children. Do you understand how important it is that we know what Voldemort found out? Orestes suggested that we should re-set every charm and ward and barrier. I - think he's right. I'm going to suggest it to the Order."

She inhaled sharply, and let out the breath very slowly. "Yes, I understand, but -"

"Severus doesn't think Voldemort knows he is working for us -"

"And you are quite certain that he is? Or - was?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes dimmed with sadness. "Oh, yes, quite certain. If Voldemort knows, then we can no longer use Severus."

"Use him?" Minerva gave a quiet chuckle. "If You-Know-Who realizes that Severus is not his, then Severus is a marked man!"

"And we will, of course, hide him and do everything we can to protect him. But we must know if Voldemort can get to Harry!"

She worked for a minute on regulating her breathing. "I would like to go on record as protesting these means to your end, Headmaster," she said formally.

Albus closed his eyes. "So would I, Minerva. Believe me, so would I."

* * *

"What I need for you to do," Orestes told her, as they sat by the edge of Severus' hospital bed, "is to hold onto me and concentrate totally on Professor Snape."

She found it odd that he referred to the man that way, but she merely nodded.

"Concentrate on him, on memories of him, good or bad, that won't matter, as long as you are concentrating completely upon him." He paused and looked at her, then held out his hand. "Ready?"

She nodded.

The use of the LimberLight had been stopped. Apparently, Dumbledore had hit upon something the day before. By relaxing his muscles and numbing the pain, the LimberLight had actually made it harder for Severus to break free of the spell and speak. So, today, there would be no relief for his body when it began to writhe in pain; and there would certainly be no relief for his mind.

"Severus, are you ready?"

His eyes were open this time. Minerva knew that would make it easier for Orestes to make contact, but it was much harder to face him, knowing what was coming.

He glanced from Orestes to her, then back, his eyes silently pleading for them not to do this. But he either couldn't or wouldn't speak.

"Legilimens!"

* * *

"...said he put his own mother in Azkaban!"

"I don't believe it! You're being spiteful, James!"

"No, Lily, it's true! Lucius Malfoy told us! He thought it would make us scared of the freak!"

... "It's a lie, Lily!"

... "Now that you have pledged to obey me without question, you will perform your first task for me..."

The woman writhed on the ground. She cried and screamed and begged for help, for release, for death...

He raised his wand...

She shot from her chair and raced across the room to the bathroom and barely reached it before she began to vomit.

She had seen - oh, Merlin's ghost, she knew what she had seen! Severus had killed an old woman, an old woman who begged for mercy, who was already being tortured by Voldemort. She knew his name. She begged him to help her...

Minerva heaved up her lunch and part of her breakfast and then stayed in the room for as long as she could justify, trying to comprehend what she had seen.

Severus Snape was a Death Eater: that meant he killed for Voldemort, but it was never something she had actually come to terms with. The intellectual knowledge and the emotional reality were entirely different. She couldn't reconcile what she had seen with the man she knew.

Even though it was perfectly in keeping with the man everyone else believed they knew.

Twenty minutes passed before she returned. Severus was staring at the ceiling, his body rigid but not twisting. He looked as if he were holding himself still by sheer force of will.

Well, that was an improvement, wasn't it?

Orestes looked a bit green around the edges. As she returned, he looked up at her and said, "I'm not used to treating the criminals," he explained, and wiped his face with his hand. He looked at Severus and Minerva saw that there was a level of compassion that was clearly missing now. She wondered how he would be able to continue without that.

"We are coming closer," he said, when she had taken her seat, "to what me must find out. - Are you able to continue?"

She wanted to say no, but instead she reached out and took Severus' hand. "Are you ready?" she asked him quietly. She waited until he looked at her and then she tried to smile at him. He had moved nothing but his eyes, and he stared at her with fiery venom and what she was sure was his overriding inability to forgive.

And then, before she had prepared herself, Orestes grabbed her other hand and waved his wand. "Legilimens!"

* * *

"Lily!" He called for her, the smoke thick, the building screeching as the walls began to collapse, as the ceiling caved down. "Lily! Lily!" the smoke choked him, scoured his throat.

She was gone, dead. Her hair fanned out beneath her head, a torn rag doll lay next to her, next to the empty crib... The book was there, scorched. He picked it up.

Her baby was gone! Where was Harry? Where was her baby? Where was her child?...

arryHa

... The cell block bars clanged shut. The cold misery of a life without ever having the chance to see Lily again engulfed him Then his breath became like ice and dementors surrounded him...

She cried out and broke free of the spell. This time, she began to heave before she could move from her seat. The horrible breath of the dementors was in her chest, in her mouth, in her nose, she could feel the despair, the knowledge that she would never leave, that everything she had ever loved was dead, or lost forever...

And she began to cry, something she had not done in decades, and she found she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't remember anything happy, anything at all. Her mind was dark, a horrible swirling vortex of hatred and filth and ugliness and death and pain...

"Madam Pomfrey!" she heard Orestes call, and knew he had left the side of the bed.

"Don't." The word - Severus' word - brought her up sharply. She gasped and felt him reach out to touch her hand, and she gripped his in return.

He met her eyes. There was moisture in them, but there was mutinous fury as well. His teeth were clenched, his breath was harsh and ragged and she could feel his fingers begin to spasm around hers.

It didn't matter.

"Please," the man in the bed hissed, "don't!"

She couldn't stop crying.

She left his hand where it was while the darkness slowly ebbed away, and she knew that Poppy and Orestes had come in and said something to her, she knew they were talking to her, but all that seemed real was the eternal, unending sadness and the tears in Severus Snape's eyes.

* * * July 9, 1995, night

Dumbledore listened with as much attention as he could muster to what Orestes was saying. The words, though, were like mere filaments of light, flickering through his consciousness.

What mattered was that Minerva McGonagall was not there. And knowing why she wasn't had turned his stomach and fed his own impotent anger for the past three hours.

"...beyond what we've gotten so far, Albus. I just don't think we're going to be able to find out. Unless you're willing to spend the next several months on it."

His office felt unusually cold to him. Poppy was watching him, had come in just a few minutes ago to report on Severus' condition, and Dumbledore had gestured for her to allow Orestes to finish his assessment of the situation from his standpoint.

He sighed and took his spectacles off his face, put them on his desk, and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "Are you, in fact, otherwise engaged this summer, Orestes? You did pack for a month."

The older man chuckled, and shook his head. "This is a lousy way to spend it, though."

"I'd prefer to keep him here rather than - transferring him. I would not like him away from the safety of Hogwarts just yet." Dumbledore turned to Poppy. His eyes lit for a few seconds on Minerva's empty seat. "How is he?"

"Angry. Silent. And he still can't eat. He's getting thinner by the day. I don't know what else you'd expect. Whatever - they - did, I can tell you it hasn't helped any."

"I beg to differ," Orestes said. "He reached out on his own and was able to speak without the same level of ferocious spasming he's had in the past. And - he interacted with Professor McGonagall in -" he stopped, glanced nervously at Albus, then cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the floor. "In what appeared to be a compassionate fashion."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, "both of you. I'll - I'll come by the hospital wing shortly, Madam Pomfrey. Orestes, do you intend another - session - tonight?"

Orestes nodded, and squinted. "Yes, I think - if you're up to it. If we want to build on the small progress he's making."

"Let me talk with Professor McGonagall and - then I'll see you there."

They left without speaking, and Dumbledore picked up his spectacles, considering them.

The meeting with the Order had been difficult, but predictable. Returning home, he had been met by Madam Pomfrey, who had told him what had happened in the hospital earlier that night.

Apparently, Minerva had not moved from Severus' side for more than an hour. Neither Poppy nor Orestes could get her to talk to them. When, at length, she had left, she had done so without a word and had not left her chambers since.

Orestes had given him a digested version of what he, and to some extent, Minerva, had come across in Severus' mind: images of his search through the ruins of Godric's Hollow, how he had found Lily's body, the empty crib. He'd arrived there after Hagrid had taken the boy.

Dumbledore remembered what Severus had looked like when he'd returned, covered in soot and plaster dust, pain and betrayal and fury so hot he had raised his wand to Dumbledore, had threatened to kill him for having not kept them safe...

And then the awful hours that followed, while Severus mourned...

The Aurors arresting him. Taking him to Azkaban, sold out by other Death Eaters...

He had been there over a week before he was tried, and when Dumbledore had seen him at his trial, he had barely recognized him. Though some of the guards had been excessively brutal, it was the hollow emptiness of his eyes that, to this day, often returned in Dumbledore's dreams. The dementors had guarded Severus night and day, and though they had not driven him mad, by the time he was freed there was little left of the man Dumbledore knew.

It had taken time, but eventually Severus had managed, not so much to heal, as to cover his wounds, with hatred and anger. He re-created himself into a bitter, hard and merciless man who intimidated those he didn't scare, and scared those he could, especially students, for whom he had an abiding dislike. He had removed as much as possible all relics of compassion or regret or guilt; and he survived to this day, Dumbledore believed, solely on the strength of his oath to protect Lily's son from Voldemort. Or to die trying.

Dumbledore gathered himself and went to the task he had to face next. Minerva's door opened at his knock, and he stepped inside. He had been here very few times in all the years he'd served at Hogwarts, but it was secretly one of his favorite rooms. The walls were covered with pictures of her family, and tapestries she made and animated. She favored famous battles of wizardry, and Dumbledore had long thought that she should loan her tapestries out to the History of Magic class; it would have made the subject at least a bit more interesting to the students.

Minerva was sitting at her desk with her back to him, looking out her window, her hands clasped on the desk. She had a good view of the Quidditch field, which had come in handy on more than one occasion.

"Have you ever been to Azkaban?" she asked as the door closed behind him.

"On business. Yes."

"Going through his memories like that. It's - as if you were there yourself, isn't it?" Her voice was cold.

"I had no idea you would be able to see so much, Minerva. You must have a gift for Legilimency."

He waited, but it was nearly a minute before she spoke again.

"How did the meeting go?"

"As I expected. I cannot explain to them why I trust Severus, and they cannot accept my trust in him on faith alone. They want to move Harry. And they want Severus taken to St. Mungo's and kept under guard."

He saw her nod. Then, once more, there was only silence for nearly a minute.

"Do you know how many people Severus has killed?" she asked.

He considered that question, then shook his head. "No."

"I do."

That wasn't a piece of information he wanted to know: so he didn't ask.

She got up, but wouldn't look at him as she crossed to the loveseat in front of her fireplace. Across from it was the chair Dumbledore normally sat in when he was here, but she didn't offer him a seat, and he didn't assume one. "I felt the dementors guarding him in Azkaban. I wonder that Sirius has no - sympathy."

Dumbledore tilted his head. Her anger was apparent; she was making no attempt to hide it.

"I'm sure he has a great deal of sympathy for anyone there who's been wrongly accused. But the Order does not exist to extend sympathy. It exists to fight Voldemort, and - I'm afraid we may have little choice but to do as they recommend."

She had her hat on. And her cloak. Obviously, she was intending to leave her chambers at last. But she still would not look at him.

"Sirius offered to come and - assist us in our attempts to find the truth here," he said, rather pleased with himself for the way he'd phrased that. He waited. "Of course, I declined his offer." And still, she didn't speak. "Minerva, I am deeply sorry for putting you through this. I honestly thought you would be aware of no more than the vaguest feelings or impressions."

She stared at her fire. "Some things are beyond forgiveness," she murmured, as if she were quoting the Potions master. She turned her head slightly toward him, but her gaze remained on the flickering flames. "Are you and Orestes going to continue your efforts?"

"I see no other option, though I'm open to anything that might be less difficult."

She thought about that, then closed her eyes. "Despite everything, Severus remains, as far as I am concerned, my friend. For lack of a better word. I will not have you and Orest-" She stopped what had begun to sound like a very angry threat. "I would like to remain involved," she finally said, in a tone that gave Dumbledore little room to protest. "If I continue to work with you and Orestes, perhaps we can speed up the process." She took a long breath and looked up almost, but still not quite, meeting his eyes. "I hope you have no objection, Headmaster."

Her retreat to formality bothered him. "None at all, Professor. - We'll be starting up again as soon as you're ready."

* * *

That night, Minerva learned much more about Severus than she had ever wanted to. She finally understood various memories that, taken together, made her realize that Severus' mother was convicted of having killed her husband (she claimed self-defense and, with excellent counsel, merited only five years there).

"How is it," she demanded of Dumbledore, once she had him alone in his office later, "that you failed to let me know about his mother while he was a student here?"

Dumbledore seemed much older than he had even last week, she noticed, but she was beyond caring about that right now.

"It wasn't easy," the wizard answered, almost smiling. Then he dropped his attempt to lighten the situation and sank into the chair in the hollow of his office. "Sit down, Minerva. This isn't something I can answer in a few words."

Simmering with anger, still battling unconscionable images of the sallow-skinned, thin boy being dragged into Azkaban by some demented Auror, she sat across from him on the old, intricately carved bench he'd picked up somewhere decades ago.

"I found out myself by accident," Albus began. "You and several other teachers were writing notes to his parents about his behavior, which the owls were delivering to Azkaban. After four such missives were delivered there - and of course, Eileen Snape could have no contact with the outside world - the warden wrote to me, asking why I was allowing my teachers to send her letters. That was how I learned of it."

"And you didn't tell any of us because..?"

Albus lowered his gaze and stared for a few seconds at his desk. "Given what I learned of Severus' background, I decided it would be sufficient to let his instructors know simply that his father had died and that his mother had left. In fact, she died in Azkaban." He looked up. "Can you not imagine his shame, Minerva? Especially in Slytherin? Somehow, word of it got out anyway, and Lucius Malfoy embellished the tale. You remember that, I'm sure."

"I assumed that was a complete fiction," she said quietly. "Yes, you told us his mother had left, but - I assumed the rumors were simply the usual vicious outgrowth of boys that age." She took a deep breath. "Where on earth did he spend his summers? Did he have relatives?"

The old man took off his spectacles and set them on his desk. "The summer it happened," he said, his words so quiet she could barely hear him, "after his first year here - he spent the rest of the time alone in his parents' house. He took care of himself, got himself back here... And, of course, then I found out." He cleared his throat and looked up. "He had no relatives, so I - volunteered to act as - a sort of guardian for him."

News upon news, Minerva thought. But the ugly suspicion that she still could not shake, the fear that Dumbledore had been lied to by Severus, crept up again. If Dumbledore had invested all this in Severus, no wonder he was eager to believe in his loyalty.

"It was - just a legal nicety, really," he continued. "That summer, I sent him to the orphanage where -" He shuddered, as if he'd suddenly felt a cold draft. "Where Tom Riddle had been raised. He - ran away."

"Then - where did he spend his summers?" she repeated.

Looking a bit abashed, he answered, "He spent them here."

Minerva shook her head. "I never saw him! No one else ever mentioned seeing him."

"He stayed in the dungeons mostly," Albus explained, his words quite easy. "By his choice, Minerva, I didn't put him there!" he added, his words stronger there. "He seemed quite comfortable. He even seemed - happy. He was a fairly nocturnal creature back then, so there was little chance anyone would have seen him here. And, of course, I took him back to London each year and put him on the Hogwarts Express so that none of the other children would wonder how he got to the school.

"I had Hagrid take him out a few times to collect plants and such over the summers. Swore him to secrecy so that word of Severus' - well, his situation, wouldn't reach the other students.

"Of course, he also left the dungeons against my orders, alone, to go prowling through the Forest."

"Against your orders." She took a deep breath. "Does anyone else in the Order know this?"

"No!" His answer was swift and severe. "No, Minerva, no one. They might know about his parents, but no one knows that I-"

"That you took care of him? Raised him?"

He considered her answer and looked as if he knew he had to defend his own decisions. "He was very self-sufficient by that point."

"I suppose you let him play with his potions while he was here, too?"

A guilty half-grin etched itself along Dumbledore's lips. "Actually, I did. I knew he was learning curses and jinxes and potions on his own. I felt it was better for him to do so under my supervision. He's always been excellent at sneaking and hiding and lying: self-defense for living with his parents, I would say. But I couldn't ignore it, so I made the best use of it I could."

She shook her head. "And you don't think any of this has colored your views of him?"

"You mean, am I ignoring his history as a Death Eater? As someone who was loyal to Voldemort?" The half-grin disappeared. "The fact that I may not know how many people Severus has killed doesn't mean that I'm blind to the fact that he has killed, and has undoubtedly committed other acts that I don't wish to know." He took a breath. "But I am convinced for my own reasons that he is not a traitor to our side. All I am trying to do right now is ensure that none of the information he has is going to be used against us."

Minerva said nothing. She was still sorting through horrible images from Severus' mind, and it took her a minute to realize what Dumbledore said next.

"I've considered Orestes' and the Order's recommendations. I believe it would be prudent to re-establish new charms and spells to protect Hogwarts and the grounds. The old ones may have been compromised without Severus realizing it. It's more than I can do alone, though. More than you and I can do alone as well."

She focused on him, pulling herself from the swirling pictures in her mind. "What are you -"

"I'm going to ask Remus and Tonks to help. They each have time to devote to it. As I said before, Sirius has already volunteered, but I can't risk it. The Ministry is still hunting him."

The thought of one of the two people Severus personally hated most being here in the castle, while they were still trying to make their way through Snape's tortured mind, gave rise to a number of very unpleasant potential consequences. "I suppose you'll be sending Severus to St. Mungo's, too? Under guard?"

He shook his head. "Not yet." He rubbed his eyes and put his spectacles back on. "We have until the end of the summer break. If we haven't - if he isn't - we may not have a choice then. But we have six weeks, still. And I don't want to give up on him just yet."

"His thoughts - are becoming more coherent," she pointed out. It sounded to her as if she were pleading for a lighter sentence for a convicted criminal. And that thought led her to other wretched thoughts.

"I've noticed. So has Orestes. But he hasn't been able to break through the spell. And neither have we."

She was very tired. She stood up and drew her cape more closely around her; there seemed to be a chill in the room. "You will keep Remus and Tonks away from the hospital wing?"

Dumbledore fixed her with his blue eyes and tilted his head to the side. "You know, Remus is more than willing to bury the hatchet. It's Severus who's not."

"I know. I don't think Severus knows how to forgive."

"No," Dumbledore muttered, "I don't think he does."

* * * July 10, 1995, early morning

Orestes was feeling drained more than tired, but it wasn't quite enough for him to call off their continuing search through Snape's mind. His bones ached and felt hollow. His chest felt like a deep cave and when he breathed, it seemed that the air whirled about inside him, not knowing where to go or what to do. But he didn't have the luxury of waiting until he felt more refreshed. He had to break through the barriers to Snape's mind, had to find the memories of his time with the Dark Lord. He had to know what had happened - or, rather, what Snape remembered of what had happened.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Orestes?" Albus asked for the third time that morning, as they took their places next to Severus' bed. Once more, the cat, who must have belonged to Madam Pomfrey, he guessed, was curled up on the bed, under Snape's right arm, which lay across his pillow over his head.

The cat looked up at him as he sat down, made a hissing sound, then jumped off the bed and went out the door to the hospital wing.

"Strange creature," Orestes muttered. "Didn't you say Minerva wanted to be here?"

Dumbledore, who was mostly watching Severus, nodded. "I'm sure she'll be along in a moment."

Severus' eyes were closed, and his body was lying peacefully in the bed. According to Madam Pomfrey, he had slept through the night. There was only the one bandage on his leg now that he could see. The cuts and tears of his flesh were healed, the snakebite on his arm was scabbing over, and Orestes expected that their path through his mind would be easier now that Snape was not fighting pain on both fronts.

Seconds later, Professor McGonagall did indeed join them by the bed, strong disapproval registered on her face. She took her seat silently, acknowledging Orestes and Dumbledore with a mere incline of her head. If she had eaten this morning, she had not done so in the kitchen when Orestes had taken his own breakfast.

"Shall we, then?" he asked, taking a deep breath, trying to fend off the feeling that he was slowly suffocating. He pulled out his wand, and Dumbledore pulled out his. Although he was acting as the primary Legilimens this morning, he had begun to hope that, whatever they found at this point would lead them directly to the answers they sought. Somewhere within the maelstrom of Snape's memories must be the ones pertaining to the Dark Lord.

He felt Dumbledore's hand in his, then raised his wand without preamble and said, "Legilimens!"

"... insufferable, arrogant, just like his father!"

"Other teachers find him quite charming, as I've said before. Severus, you are blinded by your hatred for James."

"I. Am. Not. Blinded!"

"You deliberately choose to see only what you wish..."

The eddies swirled...

"Kneel!"

"To you? Never!" He spat on Lucius' shoes, still wrenching his arms to be free of Crabbe and Goyle. If there was one good thing about James Potter, it was that he almost always had the decency to fight in the open. Even if he, too, only approached when the numbers were in his favor. Three to one, four to one...

He drifted away from the memory... slipped into another time...

"He's recruiting from the ranks of the Slytherin. I'm sure you know that." Dumbledore, trying to convince him to help...

"I'm simply a Prefect, Headmaster. I don't see what I can do."

And then back in time again, back to...

"What in the name of Merlin have you been doing here?" Dumbledore roared. The small broom-closet sized room just outside the Potions classroom was covered with soot and filled with smoke.

"A new potion," he answered calmly. "Want to try it?"

He whirled away, the scene dissolved...

"The Dark Lord wants to see you, Snape!"

The pain screeched through him. His bones burned, he was on fire, falling, falling...

"Severus. - Please."

He screamed...

* * *

Orestes slumped over a mere ten seconds after they had begun their task. Dumbledore moved quickly and caught him before he rolled out of his seat. "Minerva, get Poppy, please!"

She was already out of her seat and she pushed aside the curtain and disappeared, while Dumbledore held onto the old man. His eyes were shut. Albus couldn't detect any breathing.

Seconds later, Poppy and Minerva arrived. Together they hefted the frail body and placed it on the cot next to Severus. "He broke the spell," Dumbledore said, watching anxiously as Poppy examined the man. "I'm not sure why, though; the memories weren't that bad."

A minute later, Poppy pulled herself up and turned to Dumbledore. "I think he broke the spell - because he's unconscious." She frowned. "He needs a break from this," she said sternly. "He's too old to be doing this. At least give him until tomorrow."

Dumbledore nodded. Orestes looked very small lying there, even smaller in contrast to Severus' long, lanky form lying the next bed. Two-hundred and some years - he didn't really think it 225 - was a bit old to be taking on this much taxing work.

"Tomorrow, then." He looked at Minerva. "Will you continue with me?"

"Now?"

He nodded. She took a long breath and, without verbally assenting, moved back to the seat next to Severus' bed.

* * *

Not only were Severus' memories becoming more coherent, they were becoming stronger and easier to interpret, even given the fact that all she actually had to work with were ghost-images.

That morning, she learned that the House of Slytherin, when led by Lucius Malfoy, had created a kind of initiation of first and second years that would never have been tolerated had anyone ever reported it. She also learned that, when they decided to "induct" Severus into his "role", they found themselves up against a boy who had far more years of wizarding practice under his belt - all of it self-learned and most of it Dark by nature - than they had counted on. The sinister practices ended his first semester, as Severus not only effectively defended himself, but also any other child in the House who seemed to be marked for abuse.

It earned him the hatred of the students in the upper classes of Slytherin House, who were happy to spread about any manner of rumors about him. And, as Minerva had always suspected, Severus merely assented in silence to most of them and allowed others to believe what they wished. His aura of evil was created for him, and partly by him, and it was an image he accepted willingly.

She also learned something more shocking than any of his damnable memories: Severus Snape and Lily Potter had grown up together. She saw his childhood friendship with her turn into an adolescent crush, and then into what was, indeed, full-blown love. She saw them sneaking around together on the grounds of Hogwarts, afraid of anyone knowing that an upstanding Gryffindor and the school's most notorious Slytherin were friends.

She saw them studying Potions together in the library. She saw them hide their affection from James Potter and the other Marauders. She saw James Potter, finding them one day in the Great Hall, laughing over some private joke (and the simple vision of Severus laughing almost forced her to break the spell) and instantly pulling his wand and using one of Severus' own cleverly devised charms to remove all his clothes but his underwear.

And she felt the simmering hatred that lived, always, just beneath Severus' skin.

* * *

The sessions each lasted only a few seconds, but, like dreams, whole groups of memories and emotions could be sensed, memories that covered hours or days, even weeks. And his memories were still so easily accessible, that Dumbledore began to wonder if the man's defenses would ever again be what they had been.

In the afternoon, he called a break after one particularly grueling set of memories, centering around his service to Voldemort. Though these memories weren't particularly graphic, Minerva was terribly shaken and when he broke the spell she left the ward without a word.

But Severus was looking at him. His eyes made contact, he knew what he was seeing, he understood what was happening.

"Severus, help us! I need to see what Volde- what he saw." He saw nothing but anger in the dark eyes. "I'm sorry." He got up to leave.

"Nothing." The word came out strangled, and instantly, Severus' body began to jerk and convulse once more.

"Severus." He moved back and reached for his hand, but Severus pulled it away. He would not be touched; he was enough in control of the spasms to refuse contact with Dumbledore.

Albus sat back down and waited while the seizures wracked Severus' body, and when they were done and he lay still again, his eyes were still open, still aware.

And that was a major achievement. "Severus, I know you don't think he found anything. But you weren't - after a while, you weren't in your right mind. You can't be sure."

"He." The Potions master took long, heavy, rapid breaths. "Found." More breathing. "Nothing. I -" He was gasping for air, his arms began to twitch. "Had. Nothing." The spasms started up again, but as his body once again began to jerk uncontrollably, two last words came. "To give!" He screeched the words as the pain coursed through him. Madam Pomfrey heard and came over with a vial.

Dumbledore reached for him again, this time caught his hand and held it firmly until the punishment for talking abated. Then, with his help, Poppy poured the contents of the vial down his throat.

"Sleeping Draught. It's working better. He's not fighting it as much."

When the man's breathing became regular and his body relaxed, Dumbledore released his hand. "I'm going to see Minerva. Do you think you could get Hagrid to come and sit with him for a bit?"

"He was here last night, after you left. He'll be happy to return, I'm sure."

Dumbledore nodded and left. He felt overwhelmed by the sum of the dark, despondent impressions that kept coming at him from Severus' mind. He wondered how the man could stand to live with so much anger and pain and sadness.

But then, he reminded himself, these memories and feelings weren't usually at the surface as they were now. Severus undoubtedly locked them away and went about his life with a paucity of feelings for anything or anyone. The few emotions he permitted himself kept him at odds with the rest of the world and fortified his self-protective isolation.

And that was how he lived with himself.