Snape’s Other Master
The Dark Lord was no fool and simply still being alive come morning was not enough to convince Severus that he’d been successfully convincing. He only knew that his master was cautiously intrigued. That there were many things the Dark Lord did not understand - he, who thought he understood everything. He had expected to kill Harry Potter and ascend triumphantly back to power. Instead he had failed, humiliating himself in front of his confused followers. Severus Snape’s arrival had probably been the most reassuring thing to happen to the Dark Lord all night.
He had listened attentively for hours while Severus had told him his stories of spying, of Dumbledore, of the mediocrity of Harry Potter, and of Dumbledore’s folly in seeing anything in the vexing child. Severus had spoken nothing but the truth and had provided an overflow of seemingly useful information to prove his worth.
He had been aware of the Dark Lord looking into his mind for the whole duration of their conversation. Their persistent eye contact deepened a sense of peculiar intimacy between master and servant. And Severus had allowed an overflow of genuine loathing of Harry Potter to swarm to the forefront of his thoughts and thus disguise the revulsion he was feeling in his current state.
“I believe that there are some things that only you can do for me, Severus,” were the Dark Lord’s parting words to him.
Dumbledore had told him just as much before - and it was true. There were unfortunately many things that only Severus Snape could do and he had nobody to blame for that but himself. Severus doubted there were many who could match his passionate understanding of the Dark Arts. Even more unlikely was anyone else to have experienced the unique sort of circumstances that had attached Severus to both these greatest of wizards at the same time; having willingly chosen to become a Death Eater before switching sides to serve Dumbledore. Almost nobody was proficient enough in Occlumency to even conceal a lie from the Dark Lord; let alone manipulate, hide, and selectively choose enough thoughts to cloud the mind and disguise their employment of Occlumency the way that Severus did.
“Return to Dumbledore,” the Dark Lord had ordered. “Continue at Hogwarts. Do nothing different than you have in the past thirteen years.”
Dumbledore’s plan appeared to be working well enough for the moment. Though Severus’s loyalty would most definitely be tested thoroughly before the Dark Lord trusted him completely, he did seem to believe him satisfactorily enough to welcome him back into the Death Eater fold at present. It meant that Severus would need to be more careful than ever. Any lapse in judgment would not only be fatal but would compromise the whole operation that he had devoted his life to. It was an exhausting, overwhelming, and irritating reality. One which had him craving the security of solitude so desperately that when he was finally permitted to apparate away from the Dark Lord, it was not to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry than he went.
He arrived with a loud pop next to a crooked sign marked Spinner's End, in front of a row of dilapidated brick houses, which all appeared very lifeless at this early hour. Nobody was outside. An immense chimney, relic of a disused mill, reared up, shadowy and ominous at the end of the street. It was where Severus’s father used to work and as unpleasant as going there every day had made Tobias Snape, his mood had only worsened once he’d been laid off. From memory, Severus knew that if he walked for a few minutes to his right, he would be able to see the dirty river and the rubbish-strewn banks where he used to collect drink cans to exchange for a few pence when he was a child.
Only his abused body wasn’t in any condition to walk anywhere right now and he wouldn’t have had the desire to take a sentimental tour of the neighbourhood anyway. Severus had only kept the house after his father had died because he couldn’t be bothered to go to the trouble of moving elsewhere when he spent most of his time at the school. Spinners End served its purpose as a place to hole up for a few weeks every summer or whenever he required more privacy than his quarters in the castle afforded him. Aside from that, Severus supposed that the only other thing he could say for his house was that it made him hate being at Hogwarts a little bit less.
“C’mon,” he muttered impatiently to himself, willing his broken body to cooperate as he struggled across the road.
His adrenaline had kept him composed all the while in the Dark Lord’s presence but now the mask was slipping. His forearm was still burning where the dark mark had reappeared and the rest of his body was resisting his every move. His legs and feet were badly burned from the fire. He shook all over from cold, exhaustion, pain, nerves - he supposed all in one. It was with difficulty that he managed to retrieve his wand from the pocket of his robes and tap it on the peeling brown paint of his front door once he finally reached it.
And when it opened, Severus nearly stumbled over the threshold in his desperation to get inside. Dumbledore would be waiting for him and likely be angry when he learned that his spy hadn’t immediately reported back, but Severus knew that he couldn’t handle a second interrogation right now. He couldn’t even summon enough strength to apparate a second time upstairs to his bedroom.
Pointing his wand at an umbrella hanging on a hook by the door, Severus transfigured it into a strong and sturdy wooden cane to support his weight. Then he leaned heavily on it as he made his way over to the lumpy living room sofa and all about collapsed onto it, grateful that there was nobody around to hear the grunts slipping through his teeth, nor witness the dampness on his face from sweat and perhaps a few stray tears.
Sleep came almost instantly. Exhaustion triumphing over pain. Severus had thought briefly about a hot shower, a fresh change of clothes, and tending to his injuries with the delicate healing spells he had mastered from an early age, but accepted he was in no condition to do any of that. He hadn’t even attempted to remove the melted leather shoes he wore on his burned feet. He drifted off into sleep’s sweet escape and didn’t stir until he became aware of the room being engulfed in blinding white sunlight, which hurt his eyes before he even opened them.
“Try not to move too quickly, Severus,” Dumbledore advised softly. He was seated in the old armchair in the corner of the room, his wand pointing at the heavy curtains he’d just tied back from the windows. “How do you feel?” he asked gently.
“Awful,” Severus muttered, but when he rolled from his stomach onto his side he discovered that he wasn’t in nearly as much agony as he had been before falling asleep. He pulled off the knit blanket that had been tucked in tightly around him. It was dyed every colour of the rainbow and it looked nearly as out of place in this dreary house as the headmaster in his purple robes and matching star spangled hat did.
“The Cruciatus Curse won’t leave you any lasting physical damage, but your body is still very traumatized from the experience and has tensed up severely as a response,” Dumbledore said, as if Severus didn’t already know that. “I took the liberty of giving you a Calming Draught and a Healing Potion to help quicken your recovery.”
Severus frowned slightly at the picture of Dumbledore standing over him, pouring potions down his throat. He also saw that, in addition to covering him with a blanket, the headmaster had taken advantage of his being unconscious in order to heal the burns to his feet and legs. His trousers were rolled up and his socks and shoes had been removed to reveal pale, unblemished skin, slightly sticky from the residue of orange burn-healing paste.
“When did you get here?” Severus asked, struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position when none of the muscles in his body seemed very willing to comply.
“Approximately two hours ago,” Dumbledore replied, still watching him closely from behind his half-moon spectacles. “You never heard me come in and you barely stirred when I fed you your potions and healed your injuries. You should never have been alone here in this condition.”
The disapproval in Dumbledore’s tone was impossible to ignore, but Severus didn’t respond. He was concentrating on rolling his trouser legs down, feeling very conspicuous and uncomfortable at the image of the headmaster nursing his injuries while he’d laid there sleeping and vulnerable. But Dumbledore was not willing to let the matter drop.
“We’ve spoken about this at length before,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“If it had been anything more severe I would have notified you,” Severus replied, raising his head to meet the headmaster’s eye. “As it is, I just got here an hour or so before yourself.”
“I was waiting,” Dumbledore reminded him. “And it is only a happy coincidence that I decided to check for you here before assuming the Dark Lord had disposed of you.”
“Nothing so interesting as that,” Severus replied silkily. “I just wanted to be alone.”
He reached clumsily for his wand set on the coffee table. He had no memory of setting it there and had to assume that Dumbledore had done that for him too. Severus’s fingers didn’t want to bend and his hand felt the full weight of his wand as he pointed it at his makeshift cane so that it flew straight over to his side. He wasn’t about to attempt to stand right now without it, especially not when he had a captive audience currently watching every awkward move he made.
“I’ll help you to the loo,” Dumbledore offered.
“I don’t need help,” Severus replied curtly.
He got to his feet with difficulty and the whole room began to spin once he did. Pride alone kept him from sinking back down onto the sofa, but it was not enough to allow him to object when Dumbledore came over to grip his arm. Begrudgingly, Severus had to silently admit that he was grateful and he did not protest when Dumbledore guided him in side-along apparition up to the second floor of his house.
The upstairs was tiny. Two small bedrooms and a cramped bathroom stuffed between them. Upon inheriting the house, Severus had converted the room where his parents had slept into a lab and office where he could work during the summer months. His own bedroom still remained as sparse and impersonal as it had been when he was a child. He picked out a change of clothes for himself in the wardrobe and then relied heavily on both his walking stick and the headmaster to maneuver himself into the bathroom, upon which his willingness to accept any level of assistance immediately ceased.
“Would you like me to help you get into your bed?” Dumbledore smiled, when Severus rejoined him on the staircase landing several minutes later.
Severus shook his head. He could have easily gone back to sleep. The efforts to wash up and dress had left him entirely spent. The relief he’d briefly experienced from the pain in his feet had returned with a gradual intensity the longer he stayed standing. And he knew that Dumbledore wouldn’t leave him until he was given every detail about what had transpired after Severus had returned to the Dark Lord. He might as well get it over with.
“Then you’ll have to try some of the raspberry danishes I just baked,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he came closer to take hold of Severus’s arm again. “They’re marvelous.”
He apparated them both downstairs into the kitchen and indeed there were fresh raspberry danishes, sprinkled with powdered sugar, on a tray next to the stove. The kettle was on for tea and a bowl of fruit that must have been brought over from Hogwarts sat in the center of the table - which was covered by a purple tablecloth. The dreariness of Severus’s house seemed not to appeal to Hogwarts’ eccentric headmaster and Dumbledore had apparently been unable to resist making a few changes.
“The Dark Lord has returned….he murdered one of our students….he nearly killed your precious Potter,” Severus remarked faintly, after Dumbledore had helped him into a chair. “Yet the only one he’s ever feared still found time to bake pastries for breakfast.”
“Everyone needs to eat, Severus,” Dumbledore answered pleasantly. “Depriving ourselves of such simple sweet pleasures won’t do anyone any good and you need to keep up your strength.”
To further emphasize his point, Dumbledore made quite a show of loading up a plate with two danishes, orange slices, berries and cream. He set it down in front of Severus and then went to work preparing him a cup of tea. The tea Severus accepted more willingly, for he was quite sure that he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything else right now. He sipped it slowly, while he waited for Dumbledore to serve himself and then join him at the table.
“All the other Death Eaters were gone by the time I arrived,” he began, setting his cup down while Dumbledore tossed his long white beard over one shoulder and started digging into his plate. “Well...except Wormtail, if you feel like counting vermin, but he had been sent out of the room. The Dark Lord was sitting alone when I got there.”
“Where were you?” asked Dumbledore, after had swallowed the food in his mouth. “The portkey Harry touched had taken him and Cedric to the graveyard where Voldemort’s father is buried.”
“We were in an old manor,” Severus replied.
“I think he’s using his father’s old house as a base,” Dumbledore said. “Nobody has lived there since he killed them.”
“He didn’t exactly give me the grand tour,” Severus said impatiently, “but yes, it looked abandoned. Most of the furniture was covered up and not in use.”
“And he received you harshly,” said Dumbledore. It was a statement, not a question. “He was angry.”
“Of course he was angry,” Severus said bitterly. “You knew he would be. He punished me for forgetting him for all these years and he only let me up so that he could hear all my information before he decided what to do with me.”
“That you sit in front of me, a little worse for wear, but alive and whole, tells me that you performed excellently,” Dumbledore beamed, as he had the teapot glide across the room and start pouring itself. “Well done, Severus. You know there is nobody else I would have ever entrusted such a task to?”
“Nobody else would volunteer,” Severus replied, not to be flattered. He had already had this conversation with himself. The abilities and conditions that permitted him to be used in this way were a result of all the worst mistakes of his life. Playing this part meant constantly reckoning with the despicableness of who he was and it did Severus no good to dwell on that. It was best just to get on with the job that only he could do and not dwell on the reasons why.
“Sugar?” Dumbledore offered, but Severus ignored him as he picked up his cup to drink the black tea.
“Potter scared the Dark Lord last night,” Severus said, watching Dumbledore carefully breaking apart a danish and feeding himself bite-sized pieces. “He wasn’t supposed to survive and the Dark Lord doesn’t understand what happened. He wanted me to explain.”
“And what did you tell him?” asked Dumbledore.
“I told him what you told me about how Potter’s wand is like a twin to his,” Severus replied, “but I also told him that you suspect that he and Potter are connected intrinsically by more than just their wands.”
“You told Lord Voldemort my suspicions?” Dumbledore asked sharply.
Severus nodded. “I went there last night intending to be as forthcoming with information as possible. In the future, I can use more discretion, but last night I held very little back aside from the most crucial bits. I told him about how Potter has seen visions of what he is doing in the past, such as that dream you mentioned he had of the Dark Lord talking to Wormtail last summer. The Dark Lord was very interested, he wondered if the connection might work in reverse, which I admitted was your greatest concern.”
“So we can assume that he is going to attempt to break into Harry’s mind sooner than later,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“He thinks he can use the boy to get to you,” Severus replied.
“How very wise of Lord Voldemort,” Dumbledore sighed. “He knows that love can make a person do almost anything, but he always underestimates its power. That being said - it won’t do well to tempt him. I’ll keep my distance from Harry until we work out the solution.”
“Do you have a solution?” Severus asked.
“Yes, I do,” Dumbledore said, once he had taken another bite of pastry. “Harry needs to learn Occlumency. We need to find a way to block off the connection that exists between his mind and Lord Voldemort’s - especially now that you’ve confirmed its existence to him.”
“Occlumency is very difficult to learn,” Severus reminded him. “Potter can scarcely manage to follow step by step instructions on a blackboard to create the simplest boil cure, he's not capable of studying such advanced magic.”
“I think he might surprise you, Severus,” said Dumbledore lightly. “You’ll recall that he can perform a successful corporal patronus charm, which many adult wizards can't do. Anyway, I'm not expecting Harry to depend on Occlumency alone. I think a rudimentary understanding of the basics paired with the employment of your mental shielding sedative will be our best way to protect Harry.”
“Excuse me?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “mental shielding sedative?”
“Isn't that what it is?” asked Dumbledore.
“It's many things,” Severus replied. “It's also experimental research that hasn't been tested or reviewed by any potions master besides myself.”
“I don’t need anyone’s judgment on the matter besides yours,” Dumbledore replied. “Your research into mind matters and chemistry is ingenious. You know what you’re doing.”
Severus shook his head. He had been working on a concoction that would help block external forces from invading the mind very much like the discipline of Occlumency. So many people were incapable of clearing their minds of emotions and memories. Severus would probably have gone insane by now if he couldn't do that, but it was a skill unattainable for many and for years now he'd been thinking about ways to get around that through the subtle art of potion making. He thought that he might nearly be there, and for reasons that escaped him now, Severus had once decided to share that news with the headmaster.
“The poor boy’s mind needs to be protected and we’ll all be safer if it is,” Dumbledore insisted. “It's good that you haven't had your research evaluated - we'd lose our advantage if it became known that such a potion existed. I want you to begin providing it for Harry Potter. At your discretion, perhaps just before bed so that his dreams are not invaded. More often, if you think that’s acceptable.”
“And if I poison him?” Severus demanded.
“You won't,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. “And you know you won't. Your work is flawless.”
“So long as you're not going to hold it against me in the event that Potter has some adverse reaction that causes him to blow up,” Severus replied, taking a sip of his tea and resigning himself to defeat.
Dumbledore smiled and motioned towards Severus’s plate of untouched food, but Severus ignored him. The potion master in him was curious to test the effectiveness of his concoction on the tie between the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived that nobody properly understood, but he resented having to do anything that would force him to interact with Potter more than he already did.
“I'd like another pain reliever,” Severus said, as he pushed the breakfast plate away from himself and reached for his cane. “If you gave me one two hours ago, then it would be fine for me to drink another now.”
“Certainly,” Dumbledore agreed. “We can discuss everything further at the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.”
“I never attended those meetings last time,” Severus reminded him.
“Now you will,” Dumbledore replied simply. “If Lord Voldemort knows that you are working for me, then I see no reason why everyone else shouldn’t. And so many things can get lost in translation - it’s much better if you give your own reports this time instead of me giving them for you.”
Dumbledore came back around the table to help him up and Severus didn't reject the offered hand. He allowed himself to be tugged along through apparition and guided to his bed, where he waited for Dumbledore to fetch a vial of pain reliever from the next room. They'd reconvene in a day or so. For now, Severus had been given leave to stay alone in his house, heal, and catch his breath for a moment in advance of all that he needed to do.
“I really am very lucky to have you, Severus,” Dumbledore told him before he made his departure. More kinder than Severus’s other master, but still every bit as advantageous.