Chapter Eight: The Misconception of Severus Snape

Harry pulled Ginny through the Shrieking Shack and to the back door where he chanted, “Silencio!” to quiet the noise he was about to make in order to break free of the shack.  “Reducto!” uttered Harry, blowing the door from its hinges.  He poked his head out of the shattered opening and looked around.  Satisfied the blast wasn’t heard in the village; he quickly pulled Ginny out of the hovel and repaired the damage, leaving the Shrieking Shack unaltered.  Pulling Ginny tightly to him, he intoned, “Muffliato,” and began to talk.

“We’re going into the forest there,” said Harry pointing into the trees, “and I’m going to set some wards around us.  We need to move quickly and stay completely underneath the cloak, because there’s a Caterwauling Charm cast over the village.  If we set off the alarm the Dementors will find us for sure,” he explained.

“Caterwauling Charm?” asked Ginny.  “What’s that?”

“We nearly didn’t make it into the castle earlier.  We Apparated into the village and set of an alarm…it makes an awful racket.  If Aberforth hadn’t talked those thick Death Eaters into believing the Patronus I cast was actually his, we’d all have snogged a Dementor before ever having a chance at finding the last Horcrux,” explained Harry.  “He saved our arses.”

“Am I ever going to know everything that happened?” Ginny asked fretfully.  “Every time you talk you tell me something else — another way you’ve nearly died — and I realize I really don’t know anything.”

“You will, Ginny,” reassured Harry.  “And look, if I haven’t bit it by now, the odds are pretty slim, huh?” he grinned cheekily as his green eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

“Merlin, Harry,” scoffed Ginny with an air of aggravation, “that’s a terrible thing to say.  Let’s not talk about this, please?”

“Anyway,” said Harry, returning to their previous topic, “I think the Shrieking Shack is set back far enough from the village we don’t have to worry about the Charm.  They wouldn’t expect anyone moving about up here after curfew.”

Harry took Ginny’s hand and the pair shuffled into the trees, surveying the area around them carefully.  Once they cleared the tree line and delved safely into the brush, Harry used his wand to clear a small spot where Ginny and he could sit comfortably.  He cast a warming charm to stifle the chill, noticing Ginny shivering in the breeze, and went about securing their presence in the forest.  He cast several spells Ginny had never heard, including Salvio Hexia and Cave Inimicum; he followed with Protego Totalum, Muffliato and a Repello Charm; and finally finished by casting a Disillusionment Charm.  Harry took another cursory glance around them before declaring himself finished and plopped beside Ginny, who reclined in the clearing, awestruck by his spellwork.

“What was all that?” asked Ginny in amazement.

“Mostly Hermione,” chuckled Harry.  “We never would have made it without her.  She really was the brains behind the entire mission.”

“What did you just do?”

“Well, first I cast some general defense wards.  Then I added a Shield Charm over us as well as a charm to cover our voices.  I cast a Repelling Charm to keep away any animals…we don’t want anything tripping over us and making additional noise.  Finally, I cast a Disillusionment Charm to make us invisible…or nearly invisible, anyway.  Hermione’s Disillusionment Charm was always much better than mine, I reckon,” said Harry.  He sidled over to Ginny and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over their heads like a blanket, allowing the fabric to fall on either side of their bodies.  “This way we definitely can’t be seen from the back or sides,” explained Harry, “and we can see what’s in front of us.  This should be good enough for now.”

“Wow,” uttered Ginny who was still amazed at Harry’s thorough going over.  After his account she was surprised to find she felt totally secure in their lair — whether it was Harry’s spellwork or having him so near to her she didn’t know — but she felt safe.  She started to wonder if Harry could work such magic at the Burrow to give them a secret place away from prying eyes…then she realized she was lost in a fantasy and had missed some of what Harry was trying to explain.

Harry smirked at her with knowing eyes.  “How do you think we stayed on the run for so long?” he asked.  “We moved every single day, usually into dense forests.  Every morning at sunrise we would get up and break camp, remove all traces of our existence and Disapparate away to another location,” said Harry with a melancholy look in his eyes.

“Was it bad?” asked Ginny gently as she laid her head on his shoulder and looked out through the dense copse.

“It wasn’t awful,” admitted Harry.  “We were hungry most of the time.  We were cold a lot.  We were scared to death — especially when we found out about the Muggleborn Registration Commission…Ron wanted to register Hermione as your cousin,” sniggered Harry remembering how Ron was ready to march into the Ministry claiming Hermione as his second cousin.

“Were you scared when you found out Voldemort listed you as Undesirable #1?” asked Ginny.

“Not really,” said Harry.  “I knew that was coming.  We were mostly worried about being caught and Hermione not having a pedigree,” he remembered.  “I know Ron was mental about it.”

“Did you really look at my dot on the map?” asked Ginny, picturing Harry in his camp bed, studying the map by wandlight night after night.

Harry looked at Ginny and saw she was gazing at him with rapt attention.  He hadn’t realized he had been staring off into space as he recounted the time he, Ron and Hermione spent camping in the forest.  Harry smiled at her and pulled her closer.  “I did.  Some days that’s all I did — watch you go from class to class — imagining what you were saying to the people around you.  It’s how I stayed sane.”

“If it helps,” admitted Ginny, “most of the time when you were staring at that dot, I was probably thinking about you and wondering the same thing.”  She closed her eyes and buried her head into his neck.  “I reckon it was pretty awful for both of us,” she sighed.

“Yeah, let’s not do anything like that ever again, eh?” said Harry cheekily.  He looked at his watch.  “I reckon now is the time to tell you part of what I’m here for,” said Harry with a look of distaste crossing his face.  “I want to see Snape.”

“Snape!” cried Ginny.  “Why on earth would you want to see him?”

“Seriously,” confessed Harry. “I found out just before I went to face Tom he spent his whole life loving my mum.  His entire job as a Death Eater was to keep me safe from Voldemort,” he sighed.

“No way,” breathed Ginny.  “How did you find out?”

“He gave me the memory.”

“He just gave you the memory, no questions asked?”

Harry sighed again.  “Well, he was dying.  Nagini had just practically decapitated him.”  Harry thought of the scene in the Shrieking Shack as Snape’s blood pooled around him from the gash to his jugular, the silvery mist of the memory swirling around his head and out his mouth and nose as he tried to talk.  He remembered the clink of the vial in Hermione’s trembling hand as she retrieved the memory and decanted it into the bottle with her wand.

“Ugh,” grimaced Ginny, “that’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it was really bad.  As he died he asked me to look at him, like he wanted to look at my mother’s eyes or something.  I felt like he was looking through me.  It really freaked me out,” recounted Harry.  “I just…I just can’t believe with everything he’s done to me…all the things he’s said…that he actually cared.”

“You think he really cared about what happened to you?” gasped Ginny.

“His memory shows he did, or at least his conversations with Dumbledore led me to believe so,” said Harry sounding as skeptical as Ginny felt.

“So what are you going to do?” breathed Ginny, wondering why Harry wanted to speak with Snape so badly.

“I just have to hear him say it, Gin.  I’m always going to live that moment — him dying and giving me those memories — I’ve got to know.”

“What if he doesn’t tell you what you need to know, Harry?  What will you do then?” prodded Ginny gently.  “Just because he loved your mum doesn’t mean he’s going to lay everything out for you.”

“I want to tell him Voldemort’s about to slaughter him,” said Harry with disdain.  “He really didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“Harry, I thought you said we weren’t going to change things,” beseeched Ginny.

“I know what I said, but I just have a feeling he’ll die anyway,” predicted Harry.  “I just don’t want him to be slaughtered by some unfeeling, psychotic bastard with a murderous snake.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“I’m serious, Gin,” declared Harry.  “No one deserves to die like that.  It was terrible.  He gave his life to that scum…Voldemort murdered him without a second thought.”

Harry paused for a moment and tilted his head.  Ginny thought she could detect movement in the village.  “That would be it, Gin.  It’s starting.  My guess is that Snape is now in Hogsmeade.”  Lights began to appear one-by-one in the windows of the village, announcing silently their occupants were aware of impending trouble.

Ginny gulped.  “So what are you going to do now?” she said as she watched the village come to life around them, a nervous sweat clamming up her palms.

“Well, actually, I was going to ask you to do it,” admitted Harry awkwardly as he pondered Ginny and her reaction.

“Me!” exclaimed Ginny.  She had no idea what she could do that Harry couldn’t.

“Well, yeah,” uttered Harry.  “I want to send him a Patronus message to meet us here, but my stag is too recognizable.  He’s seen your Patronus, hasn’t he?”

“Actually no,” thought Ginny, “I don’t reckon he’s ever seen it.  Why would he?  We never attempted Patronuses in class and he definitely didn’t attend any DA meetings.”

“I dunno…” grimaced Harry, “maybe that wasn’t as good an idea as I thought.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” reassured Ginny rubbing Harry’s knee. “Mum and Da made us all learn how to send Patronus messages after Bill & Fleur’s wedding.  They wouldn’t let us leave the house until we could do it.”

Harry chuckled.  “That sounds like your parents…”

“So what exactly do you want me to say?” asked Ginny.  “I can’t exactly tell it to go up to him and say, ‘Hey Snape,’” she giggled.

“I guess just have it tell him to follow,” Harry guessed looking up to the right at nothing, as if the answer would magically appear from his brain.

“So how long do we wait for him?  I mean, how long after I send the Patronus?”

“I guess we have as long as…”

Unexpectedly a thundering, malevolent voice was heard — emanating from everywhere and everything — a voice that sent ice through Harry and Ginny:

“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and none shall be harmed.  Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched.  Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.  You have until midnight.”

Harry and Ginny both glanced down at his watch in the moonlight and then looked at each other with wide, terrified eyes.  Until that moment the gravity of what they’d done hadn’t truly affected them.  Hearing Voldemort’s voice brought the seriousness of the situation rushing back full-force.

“We can go back now, y’know,” suggested Ginny, who was looking at the horrible expression on Harry’s face.  “No one knows we’re here.  We can jump back and pretend this never happened,” she said in a cheerful tone fabricated for his comfort.

“Not really, Gin,” stammered Harry with glassy eyes, “I can’t.  I’ve got to see this through.  When we’re done, you’re going to know what’s happened and so will I.  I will know everything, including the things I wasn’t able to see.  And then…then maybe I’ll believe it’s really over.”

Stricken by Harry’s admission, Ginny sent forth her Patronum — a brilliant, silver lynx — then put her arms about Harry’s neck and rocked him gently.  “I’m here, love,” soothed Ginny with her forehead against his, “I’m not letting you do this alone.”  Harry gave her a grateful nod and laid his head on her shoulder, allowing her to bolster him.  “Just remember it’s all over now,” Ginny reminded him.  “Remember we’re just looking at the past, that’s all.”

“I love you, Ginny,” Harry croaked into her shoulder.

“I know,” she answered smoothly, ruffling his hair.  “Just don’t get used to all this special treatment, y’know?” she smiled playfully.  “I think this is supposed to go the other way round, especially with your record.”

“I’ll make it all up to you,” vowed Harry, “I promise.”  Harry felt he had spent the past day making promises to Ginny — but he did intend to make everything up to her.  He would give her whatever she wanted…he would open his vaults, do anything to make sure she was happy.  He knew, though, the Galleons in his vault were not the answer to Ginny’s happiness — Ginny was not a materialistic girl.  Money and possessions didn’t impress her.  She was with him because he was Harry, not because he was heir to the Potter and Black fortunes or the Boy-Who-Lived.  He sighed, remembering another reason why he loved her so much.

The pair sat huddled together in the moonlight for many anxious minutes in complete silence.  Not sure if Ginny’s message reached its target, they waited together patiently until Harry began to glance annoyingly at his watch, noting they’d waited almost an hour.  “He’s not going to come,” he said, disappointment evident in his voice.  “I thought he’d come.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” offered Ginny.  “Maybe he just couldn’t.  Maybe he just didn’t want to.  It is Snape, after all.  Just because he loved your mum doesn’t mean he isn’t a foul, greasy git,” said Ginny with a repulsive look on her face.

“I know, but…” Harry started, squinting off into the distance.  He was sure he’d seen the flutter of robes.  “Be quiet!” he whispered fiercely as he pulled the Invisibility Cloak completely over them.  Suddenly, Ginny’s lynx prowled into view, bringing with it a bat-like Snape, who was proceeding forward in an apprehensive crouch, brandishing his wand with demented, black eyes.  Harry waited until Snape was almost upon them and well into the wards, away from the sight of the tree line, before he crawled out from under the cloak and revealed himself.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” declared Harry, rising from his spot in the clearing.

“Potter,” sneered Snape, still holding his wand aloft.  “Why am I not surprised?”  His skin looked even more sallow in the moonlight, appearing almost white against the greasy curtains of his hair.  When he sneered, the darkness exaggerated the long hook of his nose, throwing a long shadow Harry had seen over and over in dreams.

“I’m not holding you at wand-point Professor,” stated Harry dryly.  “I’d appreciate it if you’d lower yours.”

“Do you have any idea the risk I’ve put myself in to come here?  How do you know I won’t drag you back to the Dark Lord this instant?” inquired Snape, still pointing his wand directly at Harry who blinked at the Professor mildly.  “I should have known it would be your moronic idea to send a Patronus into a village full of Death Eaters!”

“Actually, it was mine, Professor,” said Ginny, who crawled from underneath the cloak to show herself.  “We couldn’t think of another way to find you.”

“Miss Weasley,” said Snape in a shocked voice, “how did you get out here?”  Snape looked back and forth between the two, stunned by their presence, lowering his wand at the sight of the underage girl.  “Why have you brought me here?” he demanded.

“I saw it, Severus,” Harry started, not sure how to address the Professor in a way that would seem believable.

“How dare you use my name…?”

“You gave me the memory, Professor,” insisted Harry, willing Snape to believe him.

“What are you talking about, Potter?  You’re speaking nonsense, as usual, which is surely to get us all killed,” snorted Snape defensively, refusing to believe he’d done any such thing.

“You should be safe here, Snape.  There are wards — we’ll know if anyone’s approaching,” said Harry as walked closer to Snape and looked him straight in the eye.  He felt as if this might be the first time he had truly seen Severus Snape for what he was: a pathetic, broken man living a dangerous, dual life.  “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve loved my mum since you were children?  Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?  How could you treat me like that all those years only to send me the doe and Gryffindor’s sword in the forest?”

A look of unbridled shock crossed Snape’s face.  He drew his hooked nose up into a sneer of pure hatred.

“I told you, Professor.  You gave me the memory,” asserted Harry continuing his stare-down with the rapidly-deflating man.

“I have done no such thing,” squeaked Snape who looked like he’d been winded by a medicine ball.  “How do you know these things?  No one can know these things.”

“You showed me, Professor,” said Harry as he pulled the chain of the Time-turner free from his robes to reveal the artifact to the bewildered man.  “You showed me everything.  I know about my mum and my aunt; I know about the prophesy and how you came to Dumbledore begging for shelter; I know about the night Dumbledore came back with the ring; I know you loved my mum.”

“What do you want me to say, Potter?  Do you want me to apologize?” scoffed Snape with a dubious look on his face.  “Everything I did was for your mother.  I did it all for her sake.  Nothing else,” he stated firmly, crossing his arms.

“Why did you treat me so badly?  Why have you hated me so much?  What did I do?” Harry peppered, suddenly emboldened by Snape’s willingness to answer questions.

“What else would you have me do, Potter?  Coddle you like all the other Professors?  Praise your very name and hold you up as savior of the wizarding world — making you more of an egotistical, snot-nosed brat?  You were the same as any other child.  In fact, your dreadful attitude brought about much of your own punishment,” Snape retorted while gesturing vividly.  “How was I supposed to go back and forth between the Order and the Dark Lord wrapped around your overindulged finger?  What good would that have served?”

Harry was bowled over.  He hadn’t really expected the Professor to answer truthfully.

Snape stopped hurling insults and considered the students in front of him; fully grasping for the first time they had used the Time-turner to summon him.  “Is it over?” he breathed.

Harry and Ginny nodded and linked hands.

“So you’ve won,” Snape supposed in amazement.  “I didn’t think it possible…  Dumbledore said…”

“Dumbledore told you I had to die,” recounted Harry to Snape, as the Professor looked at him in a dumbfounded stupor.  “I think I did die, in a way,” said Harry.  “I did what Dumbledore intended.  I allowed Voldemort to kill me.  But the spell didn’t work — Riddle used my blood in the graveyard when he resurrected himself.  That’s the part of the prophesy Tom didn’t understand.  When he used my blood he took part of my mother’s protection into him.  As long as he stayed alive, I couldn’t die.  Dumbledore met me…wherever that was, and he showed me the way back.”

Snape continued to stare at Harry and Ginny.

“Because I sacrificed myself to Voldemort for the good of the world, I essentially did the same thing my mum did — I protected everyone because I was willing to die for them.  After I came back, the Death Eaters started to throw curses and none of them worked; they couldn’t touch any of us.

“It finally came down to the Elder Wand,” choked Harry, who started to lose control of his emotions.  “I was the Master of the wand because I disarmed Draco back at Malfoy Manor.  When Tom tried to kill me, I threw the Expelliarmus and the curses backfired, sending the Elder Wand to me and the killing curse back to Voldemort.  He’s gone.”  As he finished, tears dripped from Harry’s eyes, causing Ginny to embrace him tightly about the waist.

“Whatever you do, Professor,” implored Harry, “you can’t go into that shack.  He thinks you’re the Master.”

“What are you trying to say, Potter?” said Snape cynically.

“I’m saying he doesn’t know I disarmed Draco.  I’m saying he thinks you’re the reason the wand doesn’t work.  He’s going to send Lucius Malfoy to find you.”

“That’s the reason you’re here,” assessed Snape.  “You’re here because he kills me,” he said as comprehension dawned over his scowling face.

Harry couldn’t meet the Professor’s powerful glare.

“Potter!  Is that why you’re here?” demanded Snape wildly.  “Tell me!  Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” croaked Harry.  “The memory — after I saw the memory and how you felt about my mum…I had to know.  I had to talk to you once more…”

Snape crossed the distance to Harry and took him firmly by the shoulders.  He looked Harry in the eye.  “Are you telling me I give you the memory as I’m dying?  Do you see me die?”

Harry couldn’t answer.  He looked at the ground with stinging eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?  Why have you come back — especially after everything that’s passed between us?” challenged Snape.  “Harry!”

Harry looked up at the Professor when he used his name — not his last name or a nasty euphemism — he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Snape call him respectfully by his first name.  “You don’t deserve to die,” mumbled Harry.  “You may have been a greasy git the entire time I was at school, but it doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”

Snape stepped back and assessed the boy.  He was astonished.  Of all the things he expected to hear from Potter’s mouth, that statement was the last one he believed he’d hear.  The hard edges of his face eased a bit.  “Dying doesn’t scare me, Potter,” Snape acknowledged with a hollow voice.  “I’ve been dead for seventeen years…  What was left of me after your mother married your stupid prat of a father died the night she was killed,” he disclosed.  “I am nothing.  I am a shell of a man.  My heart has long been gone.

“Death is nothing but another plane of existence, Potter.  I do not fear it.  You said yourself you have seen it.  It didn’t scare you?”

“No,” admitted Harry, “it was actually kind of pleasant — quicker and easier than falling asleep,” he said remembering Sirius’ words in the forest.  Ginny gawked at him in disbelief.

Snape took a deep breath and regarded the boy in front of him.  He felt tension ease from his body in waves, knowing the boy had prevailed and the Dark Lord had finally met his end.  “Surely you know by approaching me you’ve broken nearly all the laws regarding the Time-turners usage?”

“I do,” answered Harry truthfully.

“And have you not figured out with that thick head of yours you can not alter time?  Do you have any idea what kind of consequences you may suffer if fate is not allowed to deal her hand?” Snape asked, noting the indignant look on Harry’s face.  “These past years I have committed myself to my duty.  My duty is done.  You have prevailed — my promise to Lily is complete.  I have nothing left.  Dumbledore is gone.  If I live I will be sent to Azkaban.”

“No!” Harry cried out.  “They can’t send you to Azkaban!  I can vouch for everything!”

“You always were a daft boy, Harry,” Snape drawled as he rolled his black eyes.  “You always want to believe the best — sometimes the best cannot be had.  I was given my chance long ago.  It was lost the night Dumbledore was killed.  Even though his death was arranged between us, the public will never forgive me for it.  I am a Death Eater.  Voldemort is done.”

Harry closed his eyes.  He could not continue the conversation.

“You’ve shown loyalty by coming back, Potter,” admitted Snape, “something I don’t deserve and never would have expected.  I must leave you.  I have much to do tonight.”

“It’s not fair,” gulped Harry.

“Life is never fair,” scolded Snape sharply.  “If you take one lesson from me, take that with you.  There is nothing fair about the process of living.  I can only hope I’ll be a better man in death than in life.”  He looked at Harry and then to Ginny, who was still standing beside her boyfriend in amazed silence.  “Dumbledore always did think the two of you looked good together,” he quipped and squeezed Harry on the arm.  “Until we meet again,” he bid goodbye and turned into the darkness with a flourish of robes, leaving Harry and Ginny to stand in the clearing alone.

Harry crumpled to the ground in a moan with Ginny following close behind.  He watched the Professor stride away from the forest and out-of-sight and swore he would clear Snape’s name.  Through hot tears, Harry promised him his death would not be in vain.