Chapter 74

Her restless dreams were filled with the haunting gold-green eyes of Siderius. The boy reached up to her, those eyes filled with an anguish she did not understand, an anguish that was too deep for a child.

“I didn’t mean to kill him…”

“Of course you didn’t”

“I had to, but I didn’t want to…”

“Yes, I know.” But she didn’t know. She could never know, just as she could never fathom the history behind the grief in those eyes.

The boy wanted only to be held, and she obliged though it seemed to pain some part of her to do so. He was only a boy, and yet he had killed his father. He had killed. The healers had said so. What could drive a small boy to do such a thing? She thought she knew. There was a delicate balance between hate and love for the child who had been abused so long, who had watched others he loved abused by the same hand. He wanted that love, and he hated the man for it; even more than that he hated himself for that need – that weakness. Love was not a weakness. Love was never weak, but how could he know this, broken and used child that he was?

His heart raced like that of a baby bird beneath the thin flesh stretched over his meager ribcage, but it calmed a little as she drew him close and she was reminded suddenly of Severus, how he too would calm at the slightest touch. She need only lay a hand on his shoulder at times, and she could literally feel the muscles relax beneath her fingers. But then there were the other times. Times he would pull away from her touch, retreat inward to a place she could not follow, the same place the child in her arms was only too familiar with, a place that love could not reach, a place that was insulated with anger, and bitterness and hate.

The boy’s arms tightened around her waist and she felt his head tilt to look up at her. She looked down and was stunned to see a pair of black eyes looking up at her instead of the amber ones she had expected - still a boy - younger than he had been when she had met him for the first time.

“Severus?”

“Remember.”

She shook her head, not understanding, and the tiny arms tightened their grip.

“He told me to do it.”

“Oh yes…yes, I remember.”

“I had to, but I didn’t want to…”

“Of course you didn’t.”

His eyes dropped then, and his voice was so quiet when he spoke at last, that she had to lean down to hear him.

“Or maybe I did…” Just a whisper, but so filled with doubt and self-loathing.

She felt her blood run cold the same way it had when she had seen the look of terror in Alice’s eyes, the same way it had when he had told her what he had done at the curb outside the hospital, the same way it had all those years ago when he had torn back his sleeve in the frigid, moonlit darkness of a winter’s night and revealed the black and twisted mark that could never be washed away. And all she could think of in response were the same words that she had spoken to Siderius earlier in the day.

“I want you to remember that you are not a bad boy,” she whispered against his fine, limp hair. “You are a good boy, and you did a bad thing, and…I know that you think about that bad thing, that you think it makes you bad, but it doesn’t…”

And then the scene changed, and her dream became Siderius’ madness. There was the tower he had spoken of. It glowed as though struck and charged by some sort of phosphorescent green flame, and at its very peak the old man. There was only one old man like that at Hogwarts and one tower she associated with him. The tower was the Astronomy Tower where she had spoken to him alone all those months ago, accused him of not loving her son or Severus; accused him of using them all. He had seemed so formidable to her then, but now…now he was only broken, tired, ready for the end of the tale that he himself had begun to write so many years before.

And then he was flying – no falling – falling through the star lit sky toward the dew drenched lawn below, toward her. She felt the impact of his body as it hit the ground a mere yard from where she was standing, she saw the blank, empty stare in his pale blue eyes the trickle of dark blood trailing from the side of his open mouth and she knew. She looked up - looked up and saw the writhing glowing mark above the tower, saw a face she knew only too well staring down at her from its lofty height, and then she woke with a start.

Someone was pounding on the door - almost frantically. Glancing blearily over at the clock on her bedside as she slipped from beneath the sheets and shrugged into a robe she saw that it was after midnight. Who on earth would be pounding on her door in such a manner at so late an hour? Something about it set her instantly ill at ease.

“Coming…coming!”

When she finally wrenched open the door she was met not by a member of the staff, as she had expected, but rather by the wide, full and haunted eyes of her son. “Harry! My God, what’s happened?!” His clothes were torn, damp and blood-stained and he was trembling, whether from cold or something else she could not tell.

“Dumbledore’s dead.” His voice was nearly as hollow as his eyes.

It took her a moment for the words to sink in. “What…? No, he can’t… How?”

“Snape killed him.”

She heard herself laugh, clipped and disbelieving. It was ludicrous. Another of Harry’s paranoid fantasies… But no, there was something in her boy’s eyes, some sort of light extinguished, and the small details of a dream she had been having, flitting at the back of her mind...

Her laughter didn’t seem to affect him. “I saw him with my own eyes.” He didn’t sound angry, or challenging, only as though he felt she had the right to know the truth.

“You saw him?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I was there, in the tower with Dumbledore. When Draco came in he…”

“Draco? What’s Draco to do with it?”

“He was supposed to do it. Like I said, like I’d been telling all of you all year. He and Snape have been working together...and…and Draco wouldn’t or couldn’t…” he sounded momentarily unsure of the details of the memory. “But then Snape came in, and he…Avada Kedavra…and Dumbledore, he fell…” His voice trailed off, the trembling becoming more pronounced.

Stepping forward she took him into her arms. She couldn’t seem to absorb what Harry had said. ‘Albus was dead.’ ‘Severus had killed him.’ She heard the words, they made sense to her mind, but her heart and soul could not absorb the full weight of their meaning. “Where is Dumbledore now?”

“Hagrid took him somewhere.” He mumbled against her shoulder.

“And where is Severus?” She felt her boy shudder in her arms at the mention of that name.

“Gone. He left with Draco and the others.”

“Others?”

“Other Death Eaters. Draco got them into the school through the Room of Requirement. There was a fight in the corridor. Some of the Order were there. Bill Weasley’s been badly hurt.”

She pulled away and held him at arm’s length. “My God. Why did no one fetch me?”

He shook his head. “I…I don’t know, but I…I’m glad you weren’t there. I’m glad you’re safe, that you didn’t have to see...” He was still trembling and his hands felt like ice through the thin fabric of her robe.

“Harry, you are not well. I think you are in shock. Have you seen Madame Pomfrey?”

“She’s busy with Bill and some of the other’s. I…I’m fine.” He swayed a little at the declaration and she shook her head and stepped back, motioning him inside.

“You need to sit down, have something warm to drink.” She waved a hand toward the sofa. “Sit down and I’ll make you some chamomile tea.”

I really need to get back to the medical wing. The Weasley’s are really upset about Bill and Lupin looks horrible…”

Her heart plummeted. “Remus? Why? What’s happened to him?”

Harry looked up from his lap, as though surprised at her tone. “Oh nothing - nothing. He’s okay, he just…he seemed to take Dumbledore’s…well, he took it pretty hard, and he was…” His voice trailed off and he stared back down at his hands.

“He was what?”

“He was…” He got to his feet and walked toward the hearth, where he started to throw some logs on the grate. “He was really angry about Snape.”

Why that simple statement reached her heart, when none of the rest had, she didn’t know, but the thought that Remus, who had always tried to be understanding where Severus was concerned, now hated him as much as anyone was more than she could bear. She could hear the unsteadiness in her voice as she replied. “Oh…”

Harry’s eyes shot up from the small blaze he had just started, and she assumed that he had heard it too. His eyes softened. “I’m sorry Mum. I really am…”

She only nodded, not trusting her voice.

“I mean even I had begun to think that maybe…” He sounded bitter beneath the sympathy, as though disgusted by his own weakness and naïveté. “You couldn’t’ have known. None of us knew. Even Dumbledore…” His voice broke then and she watched him struggle to regain his composure. “Even Dumbledore trusted him.”

Swallowing hard she nodded again and then turned back to the tea. Normally she would have brewed it muggle fashion, but she didn’t have the patience, and Harry looked paler by the minute. Using her wand to bring the water to a boil she tossed in the leaves, and then replaced the lid while she waited for the herbs to brew.

“Yes,” she finally managed. “Yes, I know.”

Harry swayed a little as he straightened up from the hearth and with a sigh she strode over and pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders forcing him to sit down again. “There will be plenty of time for all of that. The Weasley’s will not even know if you are there or not right now, and Hermione will want to be there for Ron. Stay and have some tea.”

“I should go. Professor McGonagall is going to be calling the students together soon I would imagine. Not everyone knows and you know how fast rumors spread…”

“My God – Blaise!”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Blaise. I should tell Blaise before he hears from…”

“He’s probably already heard, Mum. I saw some Slytherins out on the lawn when we found Dumbledore’s body, and I…” His eyes filled again, and he reached up and wiped at them almost angrily. “Besides, there’s no time. I’ve come to fetch you. There’s a meeting of the heads of house and Professor McGonagall asked that you come as well. I think she wants to discuss what to do now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, before she calls the students together to announce it.”

“No, I can’t go now. I have to speak with Blaise. It’s only fair. Severus was his guardian. He had no one else, and…in Severus’ absence I am to take over that role.”

“You? Why you?”

“It is how Severus and Albus arranged it. I…I have to tell him…”

“Professor McGonagall wants me there too, since I saw it. Should I go ahead and tell her you will be coming a bit later.”

“No. Stay here and finish your tea. Minerva can wait. I won’t be long, and when we get back we can go together.”

He nodded, seemingly too exhausted to argue. She poured him a large mug of tea and pressed it into his still trembling hands before she left. “Harry…”

He looked up, his eyes red and weary, and suddenly much too old for his young face. “Mmm…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that. You…you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

He shook his head and stared down into the steaming gold brew in his cup. “No. I’m glad I saw it. I’m glad I know the truth. There can’t be any doubt now. They can’t say they don’t know how it happened. I saw it. I was there. I know that it was Snape who killed him and if I ever set eyes on that…”

“Don’t Harry.”

His eyes shot up to hers, filled with such hatred it was like seeing someone she did not know. “Don’t what?” he spat.

“It’s hard now, I know…Believe me, I know. But don’t hate. If you hate you are no better than them.”

“No better than him you should say. You weren’t there, Mum. I saw the hate in his eyes. He wanted to kill him. He…he enjoyed it!”

Her skin had started to go chill as he spoke and now her stomach had begun to rebel as well. She felt sick, and empty and totally alone, and she did not have the energy to contradict him. “I can’t do this right now, Harry.” It was barely a whisper, and she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she should see Poppy too.

“HE HATED HIM!”

She only nodded. “I’m sorry Harry. I…I need to see Blaise and then I will be back. Will you wait?”

He seemed to sober then, when she did not respond in kind to the outburst. “Umm… Yeah – yeah, I’ll wait.”

“Alright.”

The corridors were completely abandoned, the only sound to be heard the eerie and mournful phoenix’s song floating in from somewhere out in the grounds - Fawkes grieving for his lost master.

It felt odd to descend the spiral staircase into the dungeons and to know that Severus would not be there waiting in the cold rooms beneath. He had always been an integral part of this section of the castle, as long as she could remember. The sudden realization of his absence, the crushing knowledge that he might never be a part of her life again took her breath away, and she had to reach out to the damp cold walls for a moment for support.

The Slytherin Common Room was oddly quiet as she said the necessary incantation to open the heavy metal door and stepped inside. Horace was already there, but he seemed at a complete loss as student after student quietly and urgently pressed him for answers he did not have. All eyes turned toward her the moment she stepped in the door, but she really only had energy for what she had come for. She scanned the crowd for Blaise’s face.

Finally she spotted him, sitting alone in a chair by the hearth. Vesta was conspicuously absent. It was only then that she realized that the girl was standing beside her, a hand resting lightly on her forearm. “He won’t talk to me…” she whispered, her voice tight. “He just sits there. It isn’t true, is it? What they are saying? Professor Snape – he wouldn’t have…”

Without responding she pushed through the crowd until she reached Blaise. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet hers, and she saw the question there. She saw too, the moment he read the answer in her eyes. He blinked once and then looked away, an angry and strangely hurt look in his eyes. She couldn’t have that. She could have Blaise thinking so poorly of him too. “Blaise, I need to speak with you…” She could almost feel the rest of the boy’s housemates pressing in, as eager to hear what she would say as Blaise himself. “Privately,” she added.

“Is it true then…?” Horace had slipped in beside her, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was still doing there.

“Weren’t you called to Minerva’s office for the meeting?”

“Yes, yes, of course…”

“I believe it’s almost ready to begin, Horace. I will be a few minutes late, but…”

“Of course you are right, Lily. I should be off, it’s only…” He leaned in close, his eyes tormented by some sort of deep pain. “Is it true then? Albus is…is dead, and Severus…” Again the students pressed in around and the room grew deathly still as though each and every one of them were holding their breath, waiting to hear it from her lips. She looked around her at the sea of faces, some frightened, some sad, and some glowing with an almost obscene glint of triumph. She looked one last time at Blaise, but it was clear he already knew. She returned her eyes to Horace’s.

“Yes, it’s true.” There were a few brief cries of shock, and then a murmur passed through the crowd. Some of the first years began to cry, and ran off to the dormitories to comfort one another in private, while the older students began to huddle together in small groups to discuss the situation. She turned back to Blaise. “Blaise, come, please. We can meet in his office. It is important that I speak with you.”

He only nodded, his eyes numb and dead looking, like they had been the evening after his mother’s murder. She worried for him again now as she had then. He followed her in silence down the corridor and then, when they had finally reached Severus’ office, he only stood in the middle of the room, looking about him as though everything in it were foreign. She tried to not let her eyes rest upon anything for any length of time for fear that it would make it impossible for her to say what she must. Moving a short distance away, she leaned back against the edge of his desk and faced boy before her.

“What have you heard?”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Pardon me?”

“What rumors have you heard? What have they told you?”

He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, looking once more around the room before responding. “They say that Dumbledore is dead. They say that Professor Snape killed him, that he was working with the Death Eaters, with Draco Malfoy. They say that he’s left with them now, and that he’s not coming back…”

She nodded. “Yes. That is what I know as well.”

Blaise just stared at her. He of course expected her to say more, but suddenly she was at a loss for words. There were so many things she had wanted to say to him. She had wanted to tell him to not believe appearances, that appearances could be deceiving, that he knew Severus; he knew the man’s heart. Would the man he knew do something like that without just cause or reason? Would the man she knew do such a thing? She had wanted to say all those things, but they stuck in her throat. She realized, suddenly that she didn’t even know the answers herself. How then could she ask that of him?

“Well…” he suddenly challenged. “Is it true? Do you believe it…?” He turned away suddenly, pacing to the other side of the room. “Of course you believe it,” he mumbled to himself. “It was Harry that saw it after all. It would have to be true then, wouldn’t it…”

“This isn’t about Harry, Blaise.”

He spun around his eyes angry, full. “Isn’t it?!” he spat. “Everything’s always about Harry, Professor. You haven’t been here these last 5 years, so perhaps you don’t know, but believe me when I tell you; everything always has been and always will be about Harry. Slytherin had taken the cup every year for nearly a decade until Harry came along, and then suddenly it was Gryffindor, nothing but Gryffindor. Everyone always hated Professor Snape, because…because they said that he favored those in his house, but what about the headmaster? He favored Gryffindor, Harry and those two friends of his as though they were some sort of gods! We needed Professor Snape. We needed him to balance things out. Where would we be, without him…” His voice cracked and the tears that had been building in his wide green eyes finally spilled over. “Where will we be now without him?”

The sight of those tears seemed to reach something deep inside her at long last, and she could finally feel tears of her own rising to join his. “I don’t know, Blaise…I…”

He shook his head and ran a hand over his eyes, wearily, leaving wet swaths on his dark cheeks where the tears had been. He seemed to have gathered himself a little, and the eyes that were turned upon her now were tired, but calm and filled with sympathy. “What will you do?” he asked simply.

Her own tears coursed down her cheeks in earnest and she buried her face in her hands to hide it from him. She shook her head. “I have no idea…”

She heard him sigh and then felt him come to lean against the desk beside her, lifting a hand to her shoulder in comfort. “What do you think then? Did he really hate the headmaster so much? I never saw that in him. It’s hard to believe…”

Wiping away the tears with the palms of her hands, she dropped her hands to her lap and stared down at their pale emptiness. “I don’t know…sometimes appearances are deceiving. You knew him, Blaise. You knew what he was, what he had been. You knew what sort of a man he was. I suppose you must ask yourself if tonight’s events, if other’s interpretation of those events line up with your understanding of him, and then…and then you must come to your own conclusions.”

She could feel his eyes on her. “What are you saying, Professor? Is there something you know, that…”

Lifting her eyes to meet his gaze, she forced a weak smile. “I don’t know what I know Blaise. Sometimes I put together the pieces of a puzzle and think I’ve discovered its secrets, only to learn that I have been mistaken in everything. I suspect there is more than meets the eye to this situation, and I say this to you, only because you have proven yourself discrete, and I know what he was to you. I would appreciate if you did not share anything I have said to you here tonight, or will say. There may be more at risk than either you or I can imagine.”

He nodded and she continued. “I do not doubt the truth of how the events were reported. Harry was there. He saw it with his own eyes, and when he relayed them to me he was visibly upset. I believe that he saw Severus put that curse on the headmaster, but what no one can know is why.

Appearances say it is a betrayal, that Severus has secretly been plotting with the Fraternity all this time, that he hated the headmaster, or if not hated, at least viewed him with enough disregard that his life meant very little. But it is those appearances that may be deceiving. All I am saying Blaise, is be careful in how you assign blame. And if your heart leads you to different conclusions than the rest, then it may be best that you keep those conclusions to yourself for the time being. Let them think what they will of him, and hold your peace…Can you do that?”

He nodded again, his eyes wide and almost relieved. “Of course. It’s not as though the rest have ever liked him, or our house…It’s not as though we aren’t all used to it already. But, I won’t say anything, not even to Vesta, if you will…if you learn anything new, anything certain…will you let me know?”

“Certainly. There…there may be things that would endanger you to know, but…if it is safe to tell you, than I promise you that I will.”

He seemed satisfied with that and he looked away, gazing around the office at all the fine books, vials of potions and other bizarre accoutrements cluttering the shelves. “I suppose this is the beginning of the change they all said was coming. There will be a political shift now – a war perhaps…”

He sounded suddenly so like a man, and she was reminded of how very close he actually was to being of age. “Yes, I would imagine you are right. The days ahead will be difficult, no doubt.”

“Will they close the school early, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I imagine that is what Professor McGonagall wants to discuss. Well, that and what she thinks I know of the whole affair…”

“She needed to speak with you, didn’t she? Did you need to go?”

“I probably should. Will you be alright?”

He nodded. “And you?”

She pushed off from the desk and started for the door. She smiled wryly. “I’ll survive.”

He returned her smile with a touch of irony in his own. “Perhaps you are becoming more Slytherin than you realize.”

She laughed and it sounded strange and out of place in the stillness. “You may be right…” Her smile faded as she took a last look around. She couldn’t help but wonder what they would do with all his things. She made a mental note to speak to Horace, to see if he might not help her ferry some of it to Spinner’s End. Surely she could find something of value, something Severus would not miss too sorely to motivate the man.

With a sigh she finally breached the rest of the distance to the door.

“Good luck!” Blaise called after her.

She smiled weakly. “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll need it.”