Passionate Application of the Dark Arts
The most skilled team of Healers from St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries would have been completely befuddled by the scene that Fawkes delivered Severus to. Dumbledore was lying on the cold stone floor of his study with his eyes closed and he gave no indication that he was even aware of their sudden appearance at his side. Fawkes’s song concluded with a final mournful note. The phoenix flew over to his perch by the window while Severus dropped to his knees and checked that Dumbledore was still breathing - he was.
But for how much longer, Severus couldn’t say. He could intuitively sense the life draining from Dumbledore’s body and he knew that this was no ordinary ailment, magical or otherwise. Severus didn’t even have to look at the broken ring and silver sword inset with rubies lying on the desk behind them to recognize the indiscernible signs of Dark Magic at work. The very reason why Dumbledore had sent for Severus in the first place, instead of calling for the mediwitch just a few corridors away. Severus’s instinctive and extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts made him uniquely capable of healing and reversing what more noble witches and wizards than him could not.
“Ahhhhhh,” Dumbledore let out a sudden loud cry when Severus firmly gripped onto his wrist and gingerly touched the burned and blackened fingers where he could see the curse had begun.
“Stop! Don’t!” Dumbledore shrieked, out of his mind with pain, and his eyes opened wide in horror.
Severus completely ignored him. He was trying to determine the curse’s course in order to halt it before it reached the heart. He knew it would not be deterred by amputating the hand when the magic had already settled in. The curse needed to be blocked but it was too powerful to be derailed by any antidote or treatment procurable within the realms of approved magic. What Severus was about to attempt would never be written in any book.
"Aurea Fortuna," Severus spoke clearly and a goblet filled to the brim with mysterious golden potion appeared in the air.
Sliding his hands underneath Dumbledore’s arms, Severus clenched his teeth as he dragged him over to the throne-like chair behind the desk. Dumbledore had stopped screaming and seemed too weak to do much more now than whimper. He sagged sideways in the chair as Severus heaved him into it, his eyes closing once again.
“Stop - please - no,” Dumbledore sputtered exhaustedly.
Severus had grabbed the goblet from the air and brought it to Dumbledore’s lips. “Drink it,” he commanded. His eyes were glittering strangely as he began to pour the potion down Dumbledore’s throat.
It had never been drunk by a single soul before and was entirely of Severus’s own invention. He had created it last summer one night when he was alone and had wanted a distraction from the vile and venomous potions he’d been tasked with brewing for the Dark Lord. Perhaps just as a way of reckoning his own guilt, Severus had aspired to discover a remedy to the incurable and he thought he had found one.
From an experimental perspective, the combination of a Strengthening Solution and Felix Felicus would make the drinker too lucky to succumb to death. There was nothing dark about that, nor at the evenly added blend of Wiggenweld Antidote and Confundus Drought. But each of those ingredients was equally matched by a potent inclusion of Cursed Drink which meant that each droplet of shimmery gold liquid contained undeniable Dark Magic. If effective, the contradicting components would effectively confuse the curse in Dumbledore’s body and make it more malleable to Severus’s manipulation.
Or at least that’s what Severus was hoping it would do as he used the hand not feeding Dumbledore his potion to begin stroking his wand over the burned and deadened hand. There was no chance of healing flesh that had already been killed by Dark Magic intent on destroying the whole person. Trapping it was all Severus could think to do and even that surpassed the knowledge of what most witches and wizards knew to be possible.
Yet from an early age, Severus had applied himself beyond the memorization of spells and accepted theory taught at Hogwarts. He had always been infatuated by the mysterious realm of the dangerous and forbidden. Even understanding now that his passion for the Dark Arts was wrong had not kept Severus from continuing to explore its endless depths. For he didn’t believe that knowledge in itself was ever inherently evil, but rather what you chose to do with it. It was only someone, like himself, who had dabbled in the Dark Arts and regretted it, who would stand a chance against its powers.
“Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur,” Severus began to recite the incantation in song. His voice rising and falling over the notes softly and beautifully.
He gently traced his wand upon Dumbledore’s arm in a backwards line, pleading with the curse to follow his directives. Such complicated magic could never be cast effectively by simply memorizing the spell. Severus had to mean it, to feel it with every fiber of his being. Severus was taking on Dumbledore’s pain as though he were personally responsible for it. Dark Magic could only be expelled through severe and excruciating remorse by the castor, for which Severus had in abundance.
Severus was offering up all that was sinful in himself; the Dark Arts he’d willfully practiced and developed for all the wrong reasons. Severus opened his mind fully, going against his very nature to employ the opposite of Occlumency in a show of full transparency. He needed himself to suffer and feel fully the harm he had caused. He fed that into Dumbledore and it strengthened the core of the magic he was performing. The absoluteness of his contrition and the monster within he desperately wished to dispel.
An image of Lily flooded his mind - no longer a child like he remembered her but at the age she’d be right now if she hadn’t died. ‘It’s your fault,” Severus told himself silently, allowing the pain of his worst act to rise within him like a ball of fire and expel from the wand pointed at Dumbledore’s injured hand. “Your love of Dark Magic repulsed Lily,” Severus reminded himself. “And then it got her killed.”
Continuing to trace downward with his wand, Lily’s image faded and was replaced with Harry. The expression on his face mirroring exactly how Harry had looked at him when Severus had told him he was the reason the Potters had been targeted. It was only at this moment that Severus’s voice quivered slightly over the words of his apology, in absolute grief, and he could tell that his magic was working, as Dumbledore’s flesh grew warmer and the curse seemed to be retreating. It was both the good and evil inside Severus that made him capable of saving Dumbledore’s life right now.
“Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur,” Severus continued whispering his song. The incantation was poetry of which deeper meaning was held in each syllable. Remorse, grief, and anguish - but all different forms of love - always love. Love had the way of putting back together things that should be broken beyond repair; capable of overcoming evil, even overcoming death. ‘Forgive me. Forgive me. Heal my brokenness. Heal the ones that I’ve hurt. Don’t let them suffer anymore because of what I did.’
“Vulnera Sanentur,” Severus murmured a final note, watching with relief as Dumbledore’s eyelids finally fluttered and opened.
Dumbledore blinked at Severus, who hastily disguised his worry and exhaustion behind a scowl. He turned his wand upon the empty goblet and it vanished.
Then without preamble he said, “Why? Why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?”
Severus’s voice was full of a desperation that Dumbledore was too weakened to match. It didn’t make sense how the greatest wizard in the world could have committed such a foolish act. If anyone should have known better, it would be Dumbledore. Severus slipped his wand into his pocket and his black eyes bore into Dumbledore’s who seemed not to know how to answer.
“I...was a fool. Sorely tempted….”
“Tempted by what?” Severus asked angrily, but Dumbledore didn’t answer.
To this, Severus wasn’t surprised. It was another secret. Another thing to fall under the umbrella of what he didn’t need to know. Although the ring with its cracked stone and the sword of Gryffindor lying beside it was clearly a crucial component of what made sense to Albus Dumbledore, Severus was not to be enlightened.
“It is a miracle you managed to return here!” Severus said furiously. “That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being -”
Dumbledore raised his blackened, useless hand, and examined it with interest. “You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?”
It was impossible to ignore the inevitable. Both men stared at one another and they both understood what was at stake. Severus swallowed a lump in his throat before replying.
“Maybe a year,” he said softly. “There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time.”
To his surprise, and fury, Dumbledore smiled at his words. The news that he had less than a year to live seemed a matter of little or no concern to him. Severus bit hard on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. If Dumbledore had summoned him even a few minutes sooner, he might have been able to do more - not cure him, but perhaps buy him a little more time. And Severus’s grief of what was inevitable was two-fold. For there was no question that they needed Dumbledore to have a chance in the fight, but also on a personal level, Severus couldn’t imagine an existence without him. The man who had believed there could be more to him. The man who had given him a second chance.
“Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?” Severus asked, still curious to know what had transpired before he’d arrived on the scene. What exactly had Dumbledore been doing with that cursed ring? Or on all his travels so far that summer?
“Something like that….I was delirious, no doubt….” said Dumbledore. With an effort he straightened himself in his chair. “Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward.”
At Severus’s perplexed face, Dumbledore smiled and explained, “I refer to Lord Voldemort’s plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me.”
“I already told you that the Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed,” Severus said tersely, walking around the desk to sit down in the chair opposite Dumbledore.
Having just told the Headmaster that he only had a year to live, Severus had no desire to think about anything else right now. Especially considering that they had communicated at length all summer about the Dark Lord and his plans, but Dumbledore hadn’t even shown the slightest interest in what Draco Malfoy was being instructed to do, until now.
“Of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort’s wrath,” Dumbledore said quietly.
Severus raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked, “are you intending to let him kill you?”
“Certainly not. You must kill me.”
Severus felt like he had just been doused with a cauldron full of icy cold water. For a moment he forgot where he was - which master was seated in front of him and giving him orders. Suddenly, everything he had believed in was taken away, and his naivete was almost laughable.
How could Severus have ever dared to dream that he was to be soon released from his shackles? Severus had thought the Dark Lord had ordered the unthinkable when he instructed him to murder Albus Dumbledore once Draco failed. Severus had thought his role amongst the Death Eaters was almost over. Now he was realizing that it never would be. Lost in the deep recesses of his mind, it took a moment for Severus to recognize that Dumbledore was still talking to him.
“It’s the only way that he will trust you completely. It’s what must be done.”
“Or what?” Severus snapped angrily. “When does this end?”
“When does what end, Severus?” Dumbledore asked calmly.
“Everything!” Severus bellowed. “I don’t have a choice, do I? I have never had a choice!”
“Everyone has a choice, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly. “You made several important ones at a young age, which you then made the courageous choice to try and rectify. This is how that is done.”
“What kind of life do you think I’d have if I killed you?” Severus demanded. “Imprisoned or dead at the hands of the people I’m working to save? What about Harry? No - this time you ask way too much.”
“I’m asking you to do the right thing,” Dumbledore said simply. “I never said it would be easy. But answer me this - what kind of world will this be if Lord Voldemort remains unopposed? What chance will Harry have of surviving if you don’t pave the way for him? You know the contents of the prophecy as well as I do.”
Bitterness swelled within Severus as he stared resentfully at Dumbledore, recognizing that he was allowing himself to be manipulated once again, but he could think of no response. He knew that Dumbledore was correct again, as always.
“I have approximately one year to teach Harry everything he needs to know,” Dumbledore continued. “You and I both know that it is imperative that you stay in Voldemort’s good graces for as long as possible.”
“Why don’t you just let Draco kill you then?” Severus asked impatiently.
“Because that boy’s soul is not yet so damaged,” Dumbledore replied. “I would not have it ripped apart on my account.”
“And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?” Severus asked angrily.
“You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation,” said Dumbledore.
His blue eyes pierced Severus, as though the soul they discussed was visible to him, and blemished though it certainly was, it hadn’t yet been ripped apart from killing. The only people Severus had seen die recently were the ones he couldn’t save. Even as he pretended to be contemplating Dumbledore’s request, Severus felt like his weathered soul was already entering a state of mourning.
Severus now understood that he would never escape the fate that he had set for himself when he decided to be branded with the Dark Mark. Love for Harry had given Severus a flicker of joy and a glimpse of what might have been if he had made better choices and not ruined so many lives, including his own, but it couldn’t redeem him. Redemption came at a much higher price. It wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. It wasn’t supposed to come naturally.
Severus’s redemption would happen by ending things. He would never escape the Dark Lord, but would stay at his post until he died or succeeded in what he was supposed to do. No matter what happened, no matter how much Severus was made to suffer, he would carry on until it was finished. That was how he earned a chance at salvation. When he finally felt ready, Severus slowly nodded his head.
“Thank you, Severus….” Dumbledore was smiling at him, but Severus looked completely repulsed. He couldn’t believe what he had just agreed to do but he did not know what other way it could be.
Severus glanced down at the broken ring on the desk and felt a heat bubble within him once again. How could Dumbledore have made such a grave error? One that would abandon them all in their darkest hour? It seemed impossible to imagine their side getting the advantage in this war without Dumbledore’s wisdom to guide them. Whatever the Prophecy stated about Harry, Severus had always been determined that this was not just the boy’s fight.
“And you still aren’t going to tell me what you’ve planned for Harry?” Severus asked, feeling another flush of irritation when Dumbledore simply smiled and shook his head.
“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Dumbledore replied gently.
“But if I do as you say, you promise that it will give Harry the best chance to win this war?” Severus asked sharply.
Dumbledore’s weary smile twitched only slightly. “I think collectively, if we all play our parts, it could mean the end of Lord Voldemort, yes.”
They stared at one another. Dumbledore still smiling in that firm but gentle way that told Severus he was not going to reveal anything else. Severus was just supposed to carry on without knowing, only trusting.
He was going to kill Dumbledore and ruin his own life, while Dumbledore continued to take his willingness for granted because he knew the full extent of his guilt and despair. Dumbledore knew that Severus would go to the ends of the earth to make up for contributing to the deaths of the Potters. He knew that he would do whatever he was told to do.
C’mon, old man," Severus said finally, "I’ll help you to your bed."
"Thank you," Dumbledore said quietly, and he held out his good hand so Severus could assist him to stand.
Dumbledore was quite unsteady on his feet but within a day or two he would be back to himself. He leaned heavily against Severus and depended on him to guide him up the few steps that led to the raised private living quarters off the Headmaster’s study. Severus had never actually stepped foot up here before and that realization troubled him, considering the extent of his and Dumbledore’s relationship and what he was being asked to do. Because for all the closeness and trust Severus assumed existed between them, Dumbledore actually had never invited him into the private realm of who he was as a person.
Severus was grieving as profoundly as if he’d just been asked to assist in the suicide of someone like a father, but Dumbledore’s attitude seemed to suggest that it was nothing more than business as usual. A difficult task entrusted to his most loyal and indebted servant. Dumbledore knew he could trust Severus to follow through.
“Does your hand hurt?” Severus asked, as he helped Dumbledore settle into a grand oval bed in the center of a round room with marble floors and wide windows that looked out onto the Quidditch Pitch.
“No,” Dumbledore replied, raising it slightly in examination. “I cannot feel it.”
“That’s how it should be,” Severus nodded. “If it starts to pain, if you feel it spreading - then you must summon me immediately. It might mean that the curse is spreading prematurely, but it shouldn’t. I think I did enough to keep it trapped for about a year.”
“I’m sure you have,” Dumbledore smiled, pulling his blankets up over his lap while Severus stood awkwardly beside the bed, not certain what he should do next.
“I’m extremely fortunate to have you, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly, “and I know that I ask far too much.”
“So long as you know that,” Severus said dryly.
“Nobody gets to my age without a mountain of regrets,” Dumbledore told him, “and one I will never quite get over is not being there for you when you were still a child under my care and in clear need of someone - all I can say to that, is if I had intervened in your life then, you probably wouldn’t be in a position to help me, Harry, or even Draco now.’
“I suppose I should be pleased that you’ve all found some use for me?” Severus asked sardonically.
“You focus always on your mistakes,” Dumbledore continued as though Severus hadn’t spoken. “You don’t acknowledge everything that you’ve done right - or all the good inside of you. Your absolute courage and your ability to love…Severus, the man you’ve become is extraordinary to me. I hope someday you'll see it for yourself."