Saturday, 9th of February, 1996. 10:56 PM

SEVERUS SNAPE

As luck would have it, the summons came the next evening. While I stood as part of the Dark Lord’s circle of members I couldn’t help but feel some apprehension. If the Dark Lord was in fact part of Potter’s plight, then I, as his primary source from the inside of Hogwarts, would most likely be called on. Especially if he wanted to gloat over his victory.

It took a moment before I realized that the meeting had begun and I was still lost in my thoughts. I gradually occluded my mind and hid certain things behind a shield not even the Dark Lord could break.

“Severus! Step forward!” the Dark Lord hissed.

I took a step deeper into the circle. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Tell me, Severus, do you know of the state Harry Potter?”

“I do, my Lord.”

He grinned maliciously. “Speak.”

“Potter has been de-aged by a wayward spell of one Gregory Goyle three days ago. Dumbledore has decided to keep it under wraps, only a few of staff even know of Potter’s true condition. It’s being played off as an illness and he’s been quarantined in the Hospital Wing.” During my recount of the Potter brat, the others shuffled in their spots around the circle, I could feel amusement, apprehension and curiosity wafting off them. The Dark Lord, however, was not moving. His face began to contort, his already mangled features turning downright evil in comparison to his usual expressions.

“NO!” he roared out. “CRUCIO!” I flinched before realizing the curse was not aimed at me, but at another Death Eater. Goyle Senior.

“Your son has failed me, Goyle!” the Dark Lord spat out viciously. “De-aged?! What good is that? I need the boy able to FIGHT. What use is a little child who may not even be able to tell the difference between a wand and tree branch? Unacceptable! CRUCIO!”

The Dark Lord began pacing. “Return to your position, Snape!” I bowed low and did as he commanded. Behind the mask I was gritting my teeth. The Dark Lord’s fury was lashing out wildly. My senses of Legilimency was picking up on it all too well. I began Occluding even more, taking deep breaths and focusing on a random list of potions ingredients sorted by use.

Whatever the Dark Lord had planned to happen obviously didn’t happen. The curse used on Potter either hadn’t been the right one or had been botched beyond its original intention. Conflicts in intent and actual spell use had been known to cause some major problems in the past. But getting from a mere cosmetic spell to ending in a seven-year-old teenager with severe magical depletion was outright inconceivable.

The Dark Lord began snapping at the others, “You imbeciles may have failed, but take heart in the reality that you are saved only by the fact that this situation may proffer some fruit after all.”

He turned his wand around in his hands, as if considering which one of the Death Eaters deserved his “special treatment” next. His eyes came to rest on me.

“Severus,” he hissed. His displeased face morphed into a grotesque grin.

I stepped forward, mentally preparing myself for a crucio. It never came. Instead the Dark Lord came to stand a few feet away. Even through the mask I feel the chill of his gaze on my face. “My Lord?”

“I want you to get close to the boy. Gain his trust, now that he is a youngster, and then I want you to bring him to me.” The Dark Lord’s red eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Perhaps, this misfortune is in truth a new opportunity. Perhaps we can turn the boy to our ways. Can you manage this simple task, Snape?” His grin quickly turned to an intense snake-like glare.

“I can. And in the event that Dumbledore gets wind of this?”

“Don’t let it happen,” he snapped. “DISMISSED!”

I bowed and Apparated away along with the others of the Dark Lord’s inner circle.

I felt a little sick walking back to the castle from my Apparition point in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore had been right, no doubt that the Dark Lord knew of, if not orchestrated, this plot against Potter. But something had obviously gone wrong. He wasn’t happy with the results. I made my way up to the Hospital Wing. It was mandatory for me to go up there and check in with Poppy before retiring to my chambers. If I didn’t check in by morning they would assume something had gone wrong. However, upon entering the hospital the, the Matron was not waiting for me in her office, instead I saw a light coming from behind Potter’s curtain and heard the voice of Poppy. Potter’s little voice answered her back, but I couldn’t understand a thing they were saying.

The rest of the Wing was dark but for the moonlight streaming through the large mosaic window panes. And if it weren’t for the hushed voices of Poppy and the boy it would have seemed as if the entire room was abandoned. I almost decided to leave and report back later, but a choked off sob room behind the curtain and Poppy’s voice rushing to sooth stopped me. Instead I slinked over to the curtain and stood off to the side of just in case Poppy rushed out and barreled into me.

“It’s only a dream, Mr. Potter. It can’t hurt you,” Poppy’s soothing voice drifted through the cotton curtain.

“B—but it felt so real!”

“Some dreams can be like that, Harry. But, real or not, they are just in your head and they can’t hurt you once you awaken.”

“So that man isn’t real then?”

Poppy paused. “Which man?”

“The man who has red eyes. He had a snake. A big one!”

I nearly jumped where I stood. The boy was still having dreams about the Dark Lord. This younger Potter shouldn’t have any memories of him at all. He would have been too young to remember them, surly. They couldn’t have been memory induced nightmares. The boy must still be having visions.

I cleared my throat and stepped through the flap of the curtain. Potter was sitting up in the bed, almost exactly how he had been when I first saw him in this younger state, except he was wrapped in a blanket and there were no coloring books to be seen. Poppy was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to the pillows and facing Potter.

They both looked up at my entrance, each clearly startled. Potter had a coating of tears on his cheeks, and Poppy looked weary.

“Ah, Severus. You’re back.” She performed a quick tempus and clucked her tongue at how late it was. “One a.m., Harry. It’s time you went back to sleep.”

Potter looked terrified at the idea.

She smiled reassuringly. “I’ll give you some Dreamless Sleep. You won’t dream again for the rest of the night.”

He nodded at her and gave me an odd look. I didn’t have time to decipher it before Poppy led me out.

“Are you well, Severus?” she asked. This was usually her first question after my return from meetings. She reached into the supply cupboard and took out a small bottle of Dreamless Sleep.

“I am.” The same could not be said for Mr. Goyle, regrettably. He had received the brunt of the Dark Lord’s fury this evening.

She nodded. “Good. I’m glad you came back all right.”

“Indeed.”

She sighed. “Well, you have my permission to return to your quarters, then.”

“Right.” I turned to go, but was stopped by Poppy’s whispering.

“Poor boy,” I heard her say under her breath as she measured out a small enough dose for Potter’s age.

“Is our Boy Hero having night terrors?” I let out in a sneer.

She gave me a stern look as she recapped the potion bottle and replaced it. “Really now, Severus,” She turned away from me and returned to the boy’s side. I heard him thank Poppy for the potion and gulp it down. I hated it when these older women said that to me.

Shaking my head, I left the Hospital Wing. In the morning, I would deal with Dumbledore. For now, I needed some much needed rest and time to prepare myself for the inevitable. The Dark Lord wanted me to get close to the boy, and the headmaster would no doubt want me to continue the boy’s lessons in Occlumency.

Generally, teaching youngsters was easier than teaching teens or adults, but it also required a degree of gentleness. Gentleness I wasn’t so sure I had the capability of possessing.

--------------

Sunday, 10th of February, 1996. 9:04 AM

I knocked on the inner door to the headmaster’s office.

“Come in, Severus.”

I pushed open the door and entered. “Headmaster.”

“Good Morning, my boy. Tea? Lemon Drop?”

“No, thank you, Headmaster.” I took a seat in one of the single seat settees in front of Albus’s desk; the one outside of the intense glare of sunlight pouring through the windows in his office.

“What do you have to report?” Albus took a sip from his tea cup.

I described the events of last night, everything from the general atmosphere to the apparent anger of the Dark Lord’s about Goyle’s failure. The headmaster had his fingers steepled under his chin, his elbows resting on the edge of the desk. His eyebrows rose in surprise when I mentioned the Dark Lord ordering me to get close to Potter, but he said nothing of it.

“So, Voldemort–” I clenched my fist to keep myself from flinching, “–didn’t plan on this happening.” Albus mused out-loud and nodded, as if this was the answer he was looking for. “The question is,” he paused and looked at Fawks who was picking obsessively at some of his feathers, “what exactly was supposed to happen?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, but I did have a question of my own. “About Potter…”

“Ah, yes, it seems to me that you should take this opportunity to get to know Harry better, as well as continue his Occlumency training.” Of course you do. I quirked a lip. “You might as well, seeing as Voldemort has given you permission to get close to him.”

“Thrilling,” I said dryly.

“Now, now, Severus, he’s actually quite a pleasant child.”

I beg to differ, Headmaster.

“As you say, Albus.”

“Don’t fret, my boy. But in all seriousness, I would like Harry to have his Occlumency training back. There’s no telling what might happen to him now that his magic is severely depleted and his is in such a vulnerable state. Poppy will be leaving this afternoon for St. Mungo’s, I suggest you join Harry while she is away.”

“Very well, if you insist.”

“I do.”

With a nod and a goodbye, I retreated to the dungeons.