Spiral of Despair by Henna Hypsch
Summary: A year after Voldemort’s death, Harry and Snape have reached a brittle reconciliation with one another. Harry wishes Snape would speak more to him about Lily, but Snape is being stubbornly secretive and jealous of his private life. Harry’s own relationship with Ginny is getting shakier. Hermione has initiated a campaign in the press against Obliviating spells which will have unexpected consequences for Neville Longbottom, and the Auror Office is looking for Voldemort’s son, without really believing that he exists.

In the second part of “Spiral” Harry goes to medical school at St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and lives at Grimmauld Place in London with Ginny, Ron and Hermione. As to Snape, he is a multitasking headmaster who seems to turn up ever so often in Harry’s life.
Categories: Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Arthur, Ginny, Hagrid, Hermione, Luna, McGonagall, Molly, Neville, Other, Ron
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 8 - Post Hogwarts (young adult Harry)
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Romance/Het, Romance/Slash, Suicide Themes
Challenges: None
Series: Spiral
Chapters: 23 Completed: Yes Word count: 98719 Read: 8393 Published: 28 Aug 2022 Updated: 27 Nov 2022
Chapter 13 The New Millennium by Henna Hypsch

A few hours before Harry left Simmings’ apartment, Mrs Steadfast and Snape, who seemed to spend more time at the Auror Headquarters than at his own school, already received some news about Harry’s activities, although in an indirect way. It came in the form of a breathless Ron who suddenly stood in the opening to Mrs Steadfast’s office.

“Harry’s been to Grimmauld Place sometime between 10 pm and 10 am,” he panted. Mrs Steadfast riveted her eyes at him.

“None of you were there when Harry showed up?” she asked, frowning.

“We had to go back to the Burrow, last night. Preparations for the new millennium, you know.  We were having relatives over for breakfast this morning and my mother needed our help. The whole day is crammed with celebrations – I don’t know how we’re going to survive it all, and I’m not talking about the magical lock-down thing,” said Ron.

Everybody was fearing the magical lock-down. A version of the Gregorian arithmancy calendar stipulated, according to some scientists, that the new millennium would bring magical forces to cancel each other and suspend magic in a limbo. The Daily Prophet had been full of these theories the last weeks, and half the magical community actually believed or at least seriously feared that it would come true and that they would all become squids.

“The turn of the millennium,” Mrs Steadfast sighed. “Haven’t we heard enough of it? Only the Universe knows what lies in our futures, so we’ll worry about that later. Tell me about Harry. How are you sure that he stopped by Grimmauld Place?”

“I don’t know,” said Ron.

“You don’t know?” said Snape and raised an eye-brow.

“Hermione asked me to alert you. She said we should see it with our own eyes.”

“See what?” said Mrs Steadfast and frowned.

“I don’t know,” said Ron.

Snape sneered.

“Hermione left to check Grimmauld Place this morning while I took care of a bunch of cousins visiting the Burrow. She floo-called back and asked me to get you. She sounded convinced that Harry had been there,” Ron elaborated.

“Let’s go to Grimmauld Place then,” Mrs Steadfast decided. “Coming, Severus?”

“Of course. Can’t miss the opportunity to solve this mystery,” Snape said sarcastically.

***

Hermione opened the door for them as soon as she heard them Apparate on the doorstep.

“Hermione, wha…?” started Ron, but she only shuffled them a little further down the hall and pointed at the wall. Both Ron and Snape drew their breaths in shock. More puzzled than awed, Mrs Steadfast stared at a big hole in the wall, with bits of burnt wallpaper hanging down at the edges.

“There used to hang a piece of drapery at this specific spot, if I remember correctly,” she said. “What was behind it?”

“Then you never met her? You never heard her?” said Hermione.

“Met who?” said Mrs Steadfast, frowning. “Severus, what does this mean?” Snape was recovering from the first surprise and answered acidulously.

“It means, Audrey, that there has been a murder. Mrs Black is at long last gone.”

Ron stepped forward and examined the crater in the wall. There were no remains at all of the portrait of Mrs Black who used to wake up and yell insults at them all.

“Murder!” he sneered. “She certainly deserved what she got. She was no angel during her living, if what Sirius told us about her was anything to go by. It wasn’t fair that she should be immortalised like that.” Hermione frowned a bit disapprovingly at Ron but looked at Snape.

“I heard that… Mrs Weasley told me that Dumbledore himself tried to break that permanent sticking charm… Why, the whole order of the Phoenix tried to get rid of it. But how…? How did Harry do it?” she said. Snape did not answer her, but stepped closer to the wall and started to hum spells, drawing his wand slowly back and forth over the hole.

“Are you sure it’s Harry who did this? Why?” asked Mrs Steadfast. Ron shook his head.

“Who else?” he said. “Ginny? I think not.”

“I think Harry came here to change clothes,” said Hermione and handed Mrs Steadfast a piece of cloth. “I found Hagrid’s cardigan and I noticed that Harry’s spare jacket is gone. He left the other one at the Burrow when he left the day before yesterday. Heavens – he’s been gone nearly two days now…”

“Makes sense he came to change clothes,” said Mrs Steadfast. “Severus? What do you make of it? Dark Arts?” Her gaze was sharp. Snape confirmed by a curt nod.

“I can’t make out what was used specifically - it escapes me. But it was a powerful spell, no doubt.”

“What’s happening to Harry?” Hermione exclaimed shrilly. “And how can he achieve what Professor Dumbledore could not?” Snape cleared his throat.

“Oh, Albus was exceedingly talented and powerful, but… I don’t think he would have permitted himself to express the fury… the rage that it takes to destroy a piece of fixed and strong magic like that portrait…” he explained.

“We do need to lay our hands on that young man and make sure he doesn’t proceed to something worse,” Mrs Steadfast proclaimed sternly. Hermione’s face was crumpled up in worry, but Ron sneered again.

“If this is Dark Arts, then I say that it has some good uses!” he said.

Hermione looked even more aghast.

“She was horrible!” insisted Ron. “Come on, we’ve wanted to get rid of her for years. By Merlin, we were forced to sneak into our own house because of her! She pestered our lives! If Harry was angry, at least he made some real sensible use of his bout of Dark magic!”

Snape looked surprised and a little shrewdly at Ron.

“I agree that the Dark Arts should be assessed and judged in the context in which they’re used, and that the actual consequences should be weighed and considered before condemning the mode of magic in itself...” he started to mutter, but was interrupted by Mrs Steadfast.

“This is no time for sophistry on the ethics of the use of Dark Arts,” she said. “We need to find Harry, speak to him and assess his state of mind. Now, he obviously didn’t want to stay here after casting whatever Dark Arts spell on that portrait, with the result that we now see before us. Where did he go next? Think, please! He must have spent the night somewhere!”

They were going to get the answer only a few hours later, and Simmings was going to get a solid telling-off from his boss.

***

Late that night, with the rattling sound of fireworks and the chirruping of excited human voices still ringing in his ears, Harry Apparated at a dark and, compared to where he came from, relatively silent alley where only a few distant detonations were heard. Harry staggered, and for a short time he was completely disorientated; for a shocking second he was not even sure of his own boundaries because it felt like he was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Then there was one sharp localised pain in his right leg, in his calf most likely. He must have a body then. Merlin, had he splinched himself when Disapparating so suddenly and so recklessly? He had needed to get out of there quick.

Harry whimpered and took a few staggering steps up to the concrete wall that lined the alley. He put one hand against it, doubled over and threw up with such force that the contents of his stomach ended up a good ten feet away from the toes of his shoes. He closed his eyes and panted, still supporting himself against the wall.

It had not been a good idea to wander about the streets of London on the night of the millennium shift. Subconsciously and with the unescapable force on a moon by its planet, Harry had been drawn to the Xenophoria club, where he knew Ginny was most likely to spend time on an evening like this. It was where Harry had indeed intended to have been, together with her, had they stuck to the plans from only a week ago… But in that short time, everything had changed… Harry had not entered the club, but had stayed outside, knowing that at one point people would start pouring out, heading for the scene of the big fireworks, wanting to celebrate as one enormous party on the embankments of the Thames.

Harry had spotted Ginny coming out of the club, and he had followed her quite closely, hidden in the dense mass of people behind her. The bells had rung, the millennium had turned, but Harry had only looked at Ginny. And he had seen her turn to a boy with long hair and kiss him on the mouth.

Harry retched again, tears rising, not from emotion, because he was still too shocked to cry, but from the physical exertion. He looked around - this place seemed familiar. He realised little by little that he was at Spinner’s End, in the blind alley where you Apparated at to avoid to be noticed by Muggle neighbours. He did not know how he had ended up here, because at the point of Disapparating, Harry had not had a determined destination in his conscious mind.

Harry started to limp towards the opening on the road. Surely Snape would not be at home on a night like this? Snape was an important personage in the magical community, so he would probably be at some reception or other, maybe with that lady from the Ministry, Madam Womberry, who had danced with him at the school ball last year, or perhaps with Mrs Steadfast if she had gotten her way, celebrating the crossing of the millennium over the Earth. Harry’s thoughts danced incoherently in his head.

Since Harry was part of the Fidelius charm that now protected Snape’s home, he immediately distinguished Snape’s house. To his surprise there was a light on in the one window beside the entrance. Hesitantly, Harry started to walk towards the house, but stopped in the middle of the road, eyes riveted on Snape’s door. Harry had started to shiver, and he felts bouts of magic streaming down his arms which jerked from time to time. Oh, no, not again! He was too exhausted to handle it. But he couldn’t force himself upon Snape like this, could he?  Not when the man so distinctly had signalled that he wanted to distance himself from Harry? Harry felt a trickle of liquid running down his calf, and a searing pain, which helped him make up his mind. Snape would not refuse to give some medical attendance, and maybe he would have some advice as to what to do with the rippling magic, as well.

When Snape opened the door and spotted Harry on the doorstep, his usually so impassive face showed so much genuine relief that Harry was assailed by a fit of sobs that risked to choke him. Snape did not say much, but hummed and ushered Harry inside and led him to an armchair in front of the fireplace. Harry continued to sob violently, bending his head down and avoiding to meet Snape’s gaze. Snape did not fuss like Simmings had done the previous night, nor was he prone to tenderness in the same natural way as the young Auror. After observing Harry silently for a while, Snape cleared his voice and asked:

“Harry, are you injured?”

Rational being, first things first, Harry thought. It was reassuring in a way, and his sobs calmed down a bit.

“I think I splinched myself,” he whispered. “Can you have a look please?” He started to fold the right leg of his trousers up. Snape kneeled down and helped him take his shoe off. The gesture caused Harry to have another fit of choking.

“It’s the same leg you injured in Paris last year,” said Snape examining Harry’s lower limb from all angles. “Stands to reason you might have slightly less control of it during an abrupt Apparition. Were you attacked? Did you need to leave precipitately?”

Harry shook his head while his face crumpled up.

“Have you been drinking?” Snape tried to sound noncommittal, but could not help himself from letting a slight reproach slip into his tone. Because his father had been a drunk, Snape was close to paranoid when it came to alcohol.

“No,” squealed Harry. “No, not even that… Not tonight…” Simmings had probably told Mrs Steadfast and Snape about last night.

“You were upset then,” stated Snape quickly, attempting to smooth over his previous accusation. “You should… wait… for your emotions to calm down before you Apparate. That’s Apparition basics, Harry. I understand, however, that the circumstances might…”

“It wasn’t like that!” Harry exclaimed.

Snape frowned and pressed his lips together, and Harry sighed with irritation. When would Snape stop guessing, and stop attributing Harry’s actions to blunders? At least the frustration with his former professor allowed him to retort.

“I Disapparated to prevent myself from attacking… from… from committing… from committing… a murder…” Harry’s face crumpled up again. He put his hands in front of his face and started to hyperventilate.

“I see…” said Snape drily after a short pause. “Then I must congratulate you. A splinched calf is much to prefer to a dead wizard.” Harry looked up at him in surprise and chuckled, crying in misery and laughing in a slight bout of hysterics at the same time. Snape remained calm and started to heal the wound in Harry’s calf with a spell and a summoned potion. Harry stilled and looked at Snape again.

“Only you can say something like that and actually mean it,” he challenged softly.

“As a reformed Death Eater, I do know the distinction between wishing to kill a person and the very act of killing a fellow human being. Did you actually prepare to kill this person?” asked Snape bluntly. Harry forced himself to consider the difference.

“I… I don’t know…” he whispered, clenching his fingers while examining his memory and his conscience. “I wanted to kill him that instant, I did…” he said, eyes riveted far away, mouth twisting. “And I’ve been having these bouts of magic surging through my body. Like involuntary bursts. Like it might explode out of me. I was afraid… I really think that I could’ve… If I hadn’t got out of there…” Suddenly Harry paled and stood up in panic.

“Easy!”

“I’m going to be sick again,” whimpered Harry. Snape conjured up and shoved a bucket in Harry’s arms and made him sit down again. While Harry retched with the bucket between his knees, Snape stood passively beside him, but took care of the bucket when it was over, and handed Harry a handkerchief to dab his lips. While the young man collected his wits, Snape left the room to fetch something in the kitchen and came back with a glass that Harry drank from.

“Pumpkin juice,” he stated. “Thank you. Tastes just like at Hogwarts.”

“It’s made at Hogwarts.” Snape sat down in the other armchair beside Harry. “If you’re ready – talk,” he said. “Talk as much as you can. About whatever you want. But first, only to confirm: the man you wished to kill on impulse, is it…?”

“Ginny’s new boy-friend,” answered Harry quickly. “Yes, it’s him. I saw her kiss him.”

“Hmm, do you know him?”

“I’ve seen him at the Xenophoria club. He plays the drums in a band that is frequently on stage and… I’ve said hello. Seems to be a decent kind of guy in fact… quite the reveler perhaps… He’ll suit Ginny in that way, because I could never live up to…” Harry was starting to choke on his words and Snape quickly changed the subject.

“These bursts of magic – is that what happened at Grimmauld Place, with the portrait of Mrs Black?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a squeal. “I’m glad you know about that, because it scared the wits out of me… There was no one at home that night, just like I hoped. I was only going to change clothes, but then she woke up, Mrs Black I mean, and got started on her usual insults… Screaming her venom out… And I got so angry at her. I don’t really know what spell I used, but it resisted me at first, the permanent sticking charm did, and it made me even angrier, so I think… I’m afraid I threw in a word or two of Parsel and… and that really does the thing, you know… I already knew that because… because I used it in… in the forest… Parsel augments the magic… multiplies it somehow… A simple gouging spell will cause a big explosion… and so on… It scares the hell out of me, but I can’t help myself… I need to let it out, it simply grows inside me until it’s unbearable.”

“It’s very responsible of you, Harry, to make sure you’re well out of people’s reach when you feel like that. I understand you don’t want to hurt someone by mistake,” said Snape.

“You think so? But I’m not in control, not in control at all…” Harry squeaked.

“There might be some late effects here from your deficient childhood. In combination with an adversely affected adolescence due to the threat of Voldemort, added to the present tumultuous state of mind, of course.” Snape closed his eyes briefly.

Harry had no idea of what Snape was talking about and stared blankly at him.

“You only experienced a limited number of incidences of involuntary underage magic during your childhood, did you?” asked Snape.

“When I was younger? With the Dursleys?” Harry turned his head away. He did not like speaking of the Dursleys, and he was not sure what Snape was getting at anyway.

“If you were forced to reign your magic in as a child, you weren’t able to explore its boundaries,” explained Snape. “That’s the advantage of having experienced a lot of anger in your childhood – you try it all… although, in my case, no Parsel…”

“I know…” Harry squirmed from discomfort.

“It is an aggravating circumstance that you tend to mix that explosive ingredient into the mix, but it is as it is, and otherwise I’d say that it’s better late than never: let yourself explore those violent sides of yourself. You’re going to get to know what you’re dealing with, and it’ll prevent you from accidentally hurting other people if you take responsibility for it - like it seems to me you’re trying to do in the middle of all this. You’ll be in control eventually.” Snape spoke soothingly.

“You really think so?” Harry asked, squinting at Snape, not quite following the professor’s reasoning because there were so many thoughts buzzing in Harry’s brain, but picking up on the reassuring tone of voice and sensing more than grasping that Snape must have experienced something similar with his magic at a younger age.

Harry quieted and let his gaze sink into the dancing of the flames in the open fireplace in Snape’s living room. Pictures of fireworks, of the streets of London and of Ginny started to play before his unseeing eyes which filled with tears again. What did it matter whether he reigned his magic in or not when she had left him? He might just as well blow the whole world to pieces, or throw himself off a…

“Speak to me, Harry,” said Snape.

Harry turned his head and looked at Snape: confusion, anger and hurt playing on his face.

“Talk! Don’t clam up. You need to let it out somehow, or it will only build up and become unbearable inside you. It’s that, or fastening your attention and concentration on a specific task, distracting your mind from what preoccupies it – but you’ve not reached the stadium yet when distraction is even an option. You need to get through the first shock. Now, talk! Anything. What did she say?”

Harry was too exhausted to understand what Snape meant by distraction, or why he wanted him to talk, but he finally obeyed and allowed himself to launch into a torrent of lamentations. He jumped from one thing to another, from relating the conversation he had had with Ginny in her room at the Burrow to various events during the autumn, revolving to the incident in Paris last spring and the ensuing Oblivate treatment that Ginny had taken willingly but which had changed their relationship, and he even returned to the battle against Voldemort when the thought of getting back with Ginny had only been a distant hope in a corner of his mind. Harry rambled on, almost incoherently, laying bare his feelings of crushed hope mixed with shame, and displaying his grief in an almost physical way that was bound to affect an audience deeply. Snape closed his eyes from time to time, turned his head or let his long hair hide his face now and again, but every time Harry slowed down, Snape extorted “talk” - so Harry talked and lamented. Finally he returned to the scene of the present night.

“The new millennium,” he said hoarsely, because he had spoken for a long time now. “I’m not so impressed by the crossing of the millennium in itself, although obviously it’s a rare event, but basically it’s just time passing as usual and another new year, but… anyhow… I had had these deliberations… I wondered if Ginny would like us to… you know to get engaged on a night like this… She has a weak spot for grandeur after all, and… and… we did mention it in Paris last spring… She said then she wouldn’t say no…”

Harry swallowed.

“I even had a look at rings in a shop…” he whispered. “But then I thought that the time was not quite right… At least I didn’t ridicule myself to the point of…” A burst of sobs prevented him from talking for a while before he picked up his thread. “I was aware of our problems, acutely aware actually that we had things to sort out and that our lives turned in different directions… But she never wanted to talk about it, so I thought that I’d wait… I’d be patient… I thought that the time would come eventually… But I never thought that she would do this… I never thought that she would give up on - not me – because it’s not even really about me, if you know what I mean?”

Snape looked at him with what seemed to Harry like both compassion and sorrow.

“She gives up on our love… She betrays our love! I don’t understand how she can do that! It’s something bigger than her… bigger than me… Our love… is magic – for me it was sacred in a way… I thought that she felt the same way… Am I a ridiculous fool to have believed in it?”

Harry caught a glimpse of pain in Snape’s face before the stern wizard turned away. Harry sat up more rigidly in his chair, with a sudden and confused impulse to stand up and leave. There was something in Snape’s countenance that reminded him of the incident in Snape’s office before Christmas.

“We should make up a bed for you to have some rest,” said Snape who was still turned away from Harry. “Would you like me to prepare the room upstairs which you borrowed last time, or…?”

“I can sleep on the sofa…” Harry hastened to say. “If you’re sure I can stay? Maybe I should…?”

Snape turned around vividly.

“No, you must stay,” he said. “Come now, you need to rest, have some sleep if you can… You’re exhausted.”

Hesitantly, Harry complied, because he honestly did not have the strength to protest: he felt empty and incapable of rational thought. I’ll think about it tomorrow. The very thought slurred in his brain as he let himself drop heavily on the sofa.

***

Snape, who had dozed off in the armchair in front of the fire, woke up from a small clicking noise. A few seconds allowed him to realise that the sofa where Harry had eventually fallen to sleep only a few hours ago was empty and that the sound had come from a shutting door. Swearing, Snape reflexively grabbed his wand, stood up and barged for the door, which he tore open and propelled himself the few steps down the stairs before stopping.

“Harry!”

The young man had not yet reached the entrance to the Disapparating impasse, but turned around in the middle of the road in front of Snape’s house. A mere ten yards separated the two wizards.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, Professor,” said Harry. His hands were deep inside his pockets, shoulders drawn up to his ears. He looked frozen, pale and thin, although he wore a proper jacket. “I’m sorry I woke you up. You mustn’t have gotten much sleep. I’m sorry I bothered you last night. I’m not… I’m not at my best right now…”

“By Jupiter! It doesn’t matter at all. Come back inside now.”

“No, no… I’m leaving… I find myself… restless… And I… I thank you for your hospitality and all, last night, but I realise that you cannot possibly want to have anything to do with me right now, when I’m in this state. Why, I realised already that time before Christmas that you… that it’s difficult for you to tolerate me… I…”

“What are you talking about?” said Snape bewildered. “I want to help you, and so do your friends: Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, Simmings and the others, they’re all worried. Mrs Steadfast has been looking for you for days now. We need to talk, to sort this out properly. Really, Harry, you can’t live on like this – it’ll end with a collapse.”

Harry hesitated. He was staring at Snape’s stockinged feet which were trampling up and down in the thin layer of snow that covered the ground. It must be cold. Harry felt his throat tighten – Snape really wanted him to stay, didn’t he? He felt his resistance melt away. Maybe it was time to go back and confront his friends? Try to sort up the mess?

But then to his confusion, Harry found himself to have taken two involuntary steps forward. In an instant he had his wand out, brandishing it at Snape.

“A mind-modifier?” he hissed furiously and with incredulity written on his face. “You’re resorting to mind-modifiers to make me go back?”

“I only wanted to nudge you… I got impatient. I’m sorry.”

“I hate it when you touch me with your magic!”

Harry turned to storm away towards the Disapparition alley. Snape followed a few steps. The regret was ringing in his words.

“Please, Harry. It was stupid of me. Stay, please!”

But all he heard was a faint pop of a Disapparition. Swearing, shivering and jumping on his cold feet, Snape got back to the house, preparing to give yet a disappointing report about Harry to a furious Mrs Steadfast.

The End.


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