II.6. - Genesis

The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy is the way: but, to return, and view the cheerful skies; in this, the task and mighty labour lies.

VIRGIL

Narcissa had been out of herself when her husband had told her where and how his jag with Severus had ended. Honestly, she hadn’t believed that either of the two could be so downright stupid! Wasn’t it bad enough that Lucius was trapped? Did he have to get the kid into the same kind of trouble, too?! She had immediately called on Severus, trying to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen – for the first time in their acquaintance, he had openly refused to oblige her.

Lucius’ warning had been justified, too. There was no way back. After being examined by the Dark Lord himself – sadly enough, Severus had no idea just how utterly satisfied the warlock had been with him and his state of mind – he had almost instantly been accepted and initiated. Lucius had been right in another respect, too – he was recognised for his talent here. Even though the other Death Eaters treated him with growing dislike, this was for once rooted in envy, not contempt for his father. And Salazar, he earned this envy, for he was truly good in this. More than just good. He was a natural.

Narcissa had realised that she couldn’t turn back time, but instead, she had done what she could for her old charge still. She had taught him Occlumency – another thing for which he had ample of talent, and before long, she had been compelled to acknowledge that her scholar was better than even his teacher was. Lucius kept his hand over him, too, and the Dark Lord himself – well, this one could hardly have been more pleased with his latest entrant. Skilled the boy was, oh yes. He had a Muggle father, too, and a mother that excelled only in her weakness. He had been jilted by a little Mudblood, and was eaten up by speechless rage and disappointment about his life and the world in general. What was most – the kid was shrewd and crafty, talented beyond the possibilities of much older wizards, with a special knack for potions and curses, and willing to do whatever it would take. How excellent young Severus could have been already if he hadn’t fallen into the hands of Albus Dumbledore, the old buffoon! Lord Voldemort was determined to make up for this lack of proper education. This boy would be his masterpiece, his skills would be secondary only to his own when he was through with him!

He taught him personally, like Lucius Malfoy, like Bellatrix Lestrange, and not only did the boy fulfil all expectations put in him – his talent as a potioneer turned out to be a true blessing. He would have made a marvellous Healer as well, curing scores of Death Eaters who had been injured when battling the Aurors. He also invented a couple of draughts that allowed his master to secure his grip on the werewolves and the giants. Otherwise, he kept him out of combat – he had other, more sustainable plans for the young man.

He still desired to get a foot into Hogwarts, and Severus Snape seemed like a ready-made choice. Dumbledore had a weakness for the underprivileged; Snape Sr. was a Muggle and his son had suffered from this for all his life, in every possible way. Apart from his long-standing friendship with Malfoy Junior, he had no traceable connection to the Dark Order, and even Lucius himself wasn’t known to be a Death Eater, although the old crackpot Dumbledore might have guessed his true allegiances already. However, he was unlikely to take Snape’s friendship to Malfoy amiss – it just wasn’t in Dumbledore’s nature to blame someone for their friends, especially when, like in this case, the boy in question had no other real friends to start with.

‘Get in touch with Dumbledore, no matter how’, the boy’s order had been, but despite his manifold gifts, he hadn’t succeeded yet. He was supposed to be subtle about it, of course, but it seemed that other difficulties had occurred; there were certain members among Dumbledore’s own order that Snape simply couldn’t deal with, no matter how dearly he would have liked to please his master.

Well, one ought to be gentle with such an uncut diamond, even Lord Voldemort – usually not fussy in ‘convincing’ his disciples – understood so much. When he thought that Malfoy Junior could do better, it was enough to hint that his young, beautiful wife might be – erm – displeased if his performance didn’t better. The same worked for almost all of them. With young Severus though, he chose to take a different path. The boy dearly loved his mother, and it would have been easy to use this one as a lever to heighten his motivation. However, Voldemort didn’t wish to upset his most promising hope. Instead, he decided to do something about the hateful father.

He sent out Bellatrix Lestrange, ever so effective, to carry out a plan that Lucius had already had years ago, too. She put the Imperius Curse on Tobias Snape, let him go on a drunken rant, followed by a couple of robberies, leading him and his loot straight into the arms of a group of Muggle policemen. Old Toby earned himself a night in the drunk tank and the promise of one or two years in a Muggle prison, and both the Dark Lord and his self-declared most loyal follower were very satisfied with themselves, and thought they had given Mrs Snape some room to manoeuvre for the next time.

Mrs Snape however did not think herself so lucky, once she learnt that her husband was in custody. From what he told her, she guessed that at least the robberies hadn’t been his own doing – he was no pilgrim, but no thief either. Basically, she thought Tobias was both too lazy and a little too dumb for these things. Her first suspect was her own son, and deeply dismayed, she contacted this one and confronted him with her reproaches, but Severus had no idea what the heck she was talking about. Or he didn’t have a clue at first, because as soon as he understood what had happened, he too had a couple of suspects on the true culprits.

“How could you do such a thing, Severus,” Eileen wailed bitterly. “He’s your father!”

“I wish he wasn’t, and I wish I had got his wretched arse in jail, but it wasn’t me!”

She believed him. When someone has placed their bets in life like Eileen Snape had, there must be some thing or person to believe in. For her, this person was her son, her incredibly bright, talented son. Watching him now, she believed what he said. But Eileen was no dimwit either – after all, Severus must have got his brains from somewhere, and that surely wasn’t Tobias. She could guess easily who had landed her husband in prison.

“Tell your friends to leave him alone, Severus! Why are they doing this to us? Why are they doing this to you?”

“I suppose they wanted to do both you and me a favour and –”

“But they didn’t!”

“Oh, come on, Mum, let’s give it a week until you’ve accustomed to the new situation. Good riddance! You’re so much better off without him!”

But his mum simply didn’t see it like this. Perhaps it was the port wine – he could smell it under her peppermint pastille infused breath – or perhaps arguing was the air that she breathed, and she couldn’t do without her husband around. He had no nerve to contemplate her unexpected displeasure; he had managed to track down Dumbledore himself – months of practise, months of thorough searching and researching… They had paid off after all. He had found his trail, meaning that he could follow all of his steps unless Dumbledore was extra-disguising them.

This meant a whole lot of more night shifts for a start. As the old wizard’s invisible shadow, Severus came to lurk in front of the Hog’s Head four nights in a row, eavesdropping on trivial conversations between the wizened barman and the even older Headmaster. Two more nights in front of the Three Broomsticks, three dinners at the Leaky Cauldron, one meeting with Bathilda Bagshot, two meetings with Alastor Moody (during which Severus had nearly been discovered), one evening in a Muggle bowling centre, and a quick cup of tea in Madam Ling’s Tea Room with Sirius Black of all people.

“…lost track of them in Buckinghamshire.”

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. “Let’s not fool ourselves, Sirius. The Bones’ are dead. He wouldn’t have left them alive.”

“Maybe he’s converted them?”

“Convert Edgar Bones? Just as well he could try and convert you. No, no, I’m afraid that if we’ll ever see anything of the Bones again, it’ll be their corpses.”

“We arrived not five minutes after the Death Eaters had gone… James is inconsolable…”

Severus went rigid with the mention of that mere name, a wave of anger rushed through his entire boy and he nearly lost the grip on his Disguising Spell. James! He would have spit on the floor if his hiding place had allowed him. Soon after this, both wizards got up and said goodbye. Severus crawled out of his cover, and on the spur of the moment, he followed Black instead of Dumbledore.

For some minutes, he indulged the hope that Black was going to meet up with his old pal Potter and this one’s wife, but he was let down. In fact, Black winded up with some witch that Severus didn’t instantly recognise, and disappeared with her in her house. Old habits die hard, Severus thought with a certain amount of glee. Black was lucky when he knew the full name of the witches he screwed with, that poor, deluded bastard.

Fact was, out of personal weakness, he had lost track of Dumbledore, and he knew he’d take some time to detect him again. Just as well he could take half a day off and look after his other weakness. To his greatest surprise he found his old man quite unchanged, standing in the kitchen of their house, brandishing a fork at Severus’ mum.

“You’ve asked for my opinion and I’ve given it to you, Eileen!”

“I’ve asked for a decent husband twenty-five years ago, too, why don’t you deal with your older debts before criticising me for the roast beef?!”

“Oh, so that’s what it was? You call this roast beef?” he taunted, tilting his head and squinting at the roast on the table between them.

“If you started to earn some money so I could buy proper food, you wouldn’t have to eat what the butcher sells half-priced!”

“And seeing how it tastes, I’ll say he ripped ya off still!”

“Get a job, Toby!”

“Oh, that’s what it always boils down to, innit?! Getta job, getta job! And what d’ya think I’m doing, day in an’ out?”

“A real job!”

“I’ve got a real job, you silly cow!”

“That is no job – it’s fraud at its best, and fraud that doesn’t even pay off well!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to grasp the Ponzi scheme – it’s a pyramid investment –”

“A pyramid investment scam, you deluded idiot!”

“You won’t call me idiot, woman!”

“You prefer ‘donkey’, then?” Eileen shot him a gleeful grin and patted her pocket. “I could give you a nice pair of donkey ears to go along with that name, you know?”

“You dare pointing that thing at me again, Eileen, and I swear I’ll knock the living daylights outta you!”

Severus could no longer take it and hammered his fist on the door frame. His parents hadn’t even noticed him standing in the open kitchen door. When they were like that, they scarcely noticed anything, not even the Muggle police officers trying to separate them – which had happened so often that in the 6^th District Police Station, responsible for the Spinner’s End area, there were three whole folders full with reports of Tobias and Eileen Snape once again trying to kill each other with hands, teeth, knives, pieces of furniture, wooden planks, snow shovels, gas pipe pliers, a waffle iron and ‘a huge pot of boiling hot chicken soup’, according to file note No. 371/B.

Both of his parents gave a start and swivelled around; Tobias pointed the fork at the sudden intruder, Eileen clearly grabbed for her wand in the pocket of her apron. Severus raised his hands to show he was unarmed, his mother relaxed and let go off her wand, but his dad didn’t lower the cutlery.

“Look who’s coming for dinner,” he snarled, “it’s the lost son! I’d say you’ve found yourself someone for the roast, Eileen, but I’m afraid the young gent has grown out of our modest ways!”

“Shut up, idiot,” Severus snapped back and turned to his mother, miming expressively, but of course, Tobias wouldn’t have it.

“You dare talking to your own father under his own roof like that?!”

“Half of the roof and the house below belong to Jeff ‘Joker’ Edwards, I heard. If you want me to talk respectfully to the real house owner, I’ll give old Jeff a call. And if you want me to talk respectfully to you – get out of the house, I think between the garbage cans might still be a proper place for you – or maybe not!”

His father opened his mouth for a retort, but Severus had enough and stunned him without further ceremony. Tobias turned stiff in an instant, swaying for a moment before keeling over and getting wedged between the fridge and the broom cupboard. Eileen shot her son an exhortatory glance and put her hands in her waist.

“Was this necessary?!”

“What’s he doing here, Mum?!”

“Now what do you fathom! Vituperating as usually!”

“Yes, so much I’ve grasped myself, thank you! What’s he doing here? Or in other words, to make it quite clear – why is the blithering arse here and not in prison?!”

“Well, I Imperiused both eye-witnesses and the judge, confounded two police officers, the Crown Prosecutor and I managed to – persuade – one of your father’s useless sidekicks that it was really him in that night.” She looked very satisfied with herself, just like exhausted and defiant, and Severus could merely shake his head.

Yes, his mum could have been an admirable witch. She could have made it so far, if only she had never met her vile husband, if she hadn’t got married to him, or at least if she had left him before the damage was complete. Her son had seen her fade away before time; he knew from some old photos that she had been a more brightly looking girl once, if never a true beauty. But the woman he could remember had already lost that shine, and in record time, she had withered. Nowadays, she looked rather like a sixty-year-old, if that was enough.

“You’ll never get it into your head, do you, Mum? You’re better off without him!”

“Oh, what do you know! Only because you couldn’t get away from here quickly enough, it doesn’t follow we’re all so unsatisfied with out lot!”

“You’re satisfied, Mum? You’re happy? Here? Like this? With him?” He gave his father his most disdainful smirk, before glaring back at her. “If that is truly so, you don’t deserve better!”

Eileen grinned cruelly. “Oh, I know why you’re in a snit! I met Mrs Taylor last week – you know, the sister-in-law of Mr Barnes, who works in the same company like that Evans woman…”

“How interesting. But please, keep your gossip for yourself, I really don’t want to hear about it,” he said tensely.

“And Mrs Evans,” she went on relentlessly, “has shown around the photos of her younger daughter’s wedding last year. You didn’t tell me the little Mudblood got married.”

“I have no idea who you could be talking about,” he gnarled through gritted teeth. “And, by the way, Mum – you’ve got appalling opinions for a woman who managed to marry the uncrowned king of useless Muggles!”

“Why, here I was thinking you’d like my renewed opinions on the matter. How do you sell it to your buddies, Rus? Your own Muggle father? The fact that your oldest friend is a little Mudblood hers-”

“Don’t you dare talking of her like that!” Severus thundered and pointed his wand at her. He swallowed, lowered his arm again and added far more coolly, “Lily and I stopped being friends long ago.”

She leered cattish. “All the better, innit? One less predicament for you. Now you only have to explain away your father, and you’ll soon be the new – now what’s his name – ah, Malfoy!”

“Get off it, Mum! Just stop this shit, will ya! Aren’t you glad that I got that grant? Aren’t you proud that I can go to College? That I’m the first one bearing the sodding name of Snape who ever managed to get a degree –”

“You haven’t got that degree yet!”

“It’s rather likely that I’ll get it though, and if I do, I haven’t got my father to thank, but Lucius Malfoy, yes, so stop bitching about him, please!”

“You don’t belong there, Rusty,” she said almost softly, using an old pet name that he hadn’t heard in fifteen years.

“If I don’t, I’ve got him to blame!” He beckoned at his father.

She looked as if she hadn’t heard him; her eyes were blurred and she crossed her arms as if she was embracing herself. “You don’t belong to these people, those rich, arrogant people… They’ll never stop looking down on you, don’t you understand that?”

“I – of course I don’t belong there, Mum. I know that. And I don’t care! You know I didn’t go away because of that… But I… I found something, Mum, and I’m really, really good at it, and for the first time ever, people don’t look at me and think of who my father is!”

“And to those people you belong even less,” she hissed.

“So what do you reckon where I do belong? Here? With you and old Toby?! Mum, you hardly noticed me when I was still living here! Why are you so bloody offended that I left!”

She opened her mouth and shut it again after a long moment, not uttering a word. Her shoulders slacked, and now she truly looked as if she was embracing herself for comfort. Severus didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t bear to see her like this so he lowered his gaze, and the next time he looked, she was fumbling for her wand to undo the spell immobilising his father.

“I guess I need to go then,” he muttered, realising that he was still standing at exactly the same spot. Even now, he didn’t dare to go in any further, to hug his mother goodbye. He merely raised his shoulders and tried something like a smile.

She nodded and turned away. “Yes. Will you come for Christmas?”

“That’s still five weeks, Mum!”

“Yes, I know, but I thought between all your new obligations, you might need to note it in your calendar in advance. And also – I don’t know if we’ll meet again before that, do I?”

“Stop being so bloody ridiculous, Mum,” he groaned and Disapparated straightaway. The first thing he had thought of was that he needed a drink, so maybe this was the reason why his spontaneous Apparition brought him to the front door of the Hog’s Head. Oh well, all the better, one could impossibly embarrass oneself in the Hog’s Head, no matter how loaded. There was always another customer doing even worse, or if nothing else, the barman himself.

He slouched down at the bar and weakly waved his hand. “Two double, please –”

Another thing really great about the Hog’s Head – which must be the shabbiest pub in all Britain in every other respect – was that unlike many, many other barmen, old Aberforth disliked talking to his customers, instead of trying to involve them in some silly, nonsensical chit-chat. One couldn’t drink oneself into oblivion more peacefully, Severus knew from long-standing experience.

All the more he was surprised when he now realised that said barman was talking, and rather animatedly. “…complete rubbish, as always!”

“I think it’s a question of courtesy to give her a chance at least,” another familiar voice replied, and Severus froze, recognising that voice.

“You’re a bloody hypocrite, that’s what you are, Albus! Courtesy, ph! You don’t mean to give her the job no matter what! Why do you have to make her hope first when you already know that you’ll let her down in the end!”

“Maybe she is better than expected?”

Aberforth made a retching sound as if he had spat on the floor, and other noises indicated that Dumbledore had got up. Severus didn’t dare to turn around, scared to make his prey aware of his presence. A job, his brother had said – a job for Dumbledore’s order? The Dark Lord would want to know who Dumbledore’s recruiting… He suppressed the urge to follow the old Headmaster at once, but clang to his glass and pretended to be in the same dull, depressed mood like before when Aberforth returned behind the bar.

He checked his watch lazily, asked if it could possibly be true that if was half past eleven already, and staggered out of the pub when his neighbour confirmed that. He wasn’t actually drunk; and not a minute later, he had managed to climb onto the roof without making a sound. On hands and knees, he crawled along, trying to peek down into the rooms, until finally spotting what he had been looking for.

For a second, he had seen Dumbledore sweep past one of the windows; he couldn’t hear a thing though, and carefully fumbled for the sheath in his inner pocket. He found the right vial and dripped a sticky, light blue liquid onto the tip of his wand. He aimed well, moved the wand like a whip, and one drop of the liquid indeed found its goal – the grimy window pane. In the next second, he could hear some strange, snoring sound, and Albus Dumbledore’s voice, too.

“Sibyll? Can you –”

‘Sibyll’ was making more wheezing noises, before spluttering with unforeseen vigour, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him –”

In this second, Severus received a hard blow on his right ear, lost his grip on the eaves gutter and fell off the roof. He couldn’t say if he swiftly passed out because of the fall, or because of the heavy blow, but fact was, when he regained his senses, he had been petrified, and Aberforth, the austere barman, was dragging him along.

*****

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