Chapter 7

Beyond Recognition

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Severus had waited for Dumbledore to leave before relaxing his stony expression and leaning forward to rest his head in his palms. The emotional turbulence of the past few days was almost too much for him, a man who normally retained quite a stoic psyche. He briefly considered using his pensieve for relief from his thoughts or consuming a vial of dreamless sleep potion. But no, he thought with a pang of guilt; this was no more than he deserved. Why should he be able to escape the troubling thoughts that were little more than a result of his own impulsive actions? No, he would suffer in silence as usual, his way of paying penance. With the Headmaster finally gone, he turned and headed in the direction of his private quarters. A dimly lit, narrow passageway led from his lab to his room, allowing him a private escape. After treading only a moderate stretch of corridor, he reached a slim black door and, after grumbling the password, entered his rooms.

Severus was, though loath to admit it, still shaken by the news he'd learned from Dumbledore the previous night and, despite many attempts, hadn't slept since. The hour had been late when he had returned from Dumbledore's office and he had immediately thrown himself into the preparation of the medicinal potions Madame Pomfrey had been routinely pestering him about for the past four days. Since Severus was an avoidant person by nature, it seemed natural that now, in the face of a grave realization and impending struggle, the Potions Master would finally take on the task he had been loath to complete before. It was no longer an annoyance; it was a welcomed distraction.

Barely aware of where he was or what he was doing, Severus sank down into his armchair. He let his arms rest on the sides, fingers gripping the cool, worn leather. His head lolled to rest against the high back of the chair, and he closed his eyes against the dull throb that was beginning to develop in the back of his cranium.

Sitting next to the chair was a small table. There was nothing extraordinary about it: short in stature, made of a dull wood which, if one looked close enough, didn't quite match with a majority of the furniture in the room, and containing only one drawer. This ordinary table, however, did not go unnoticed by Severus for long. As if he were expecting it to come to life and strike him, he eventually opened his eyes and slanted to the side, eyeing the table warily. He knew what it contained, and was ashamed of his own longing to retrieve what was in it.

Giving into temptation, a bony hand reached out and slid the drawer open. From it he drew a small muggle photograph: dull with age and covered in a thin veil of grey dust. With his thumb he uncovered the image beneath the offending particles, a tinge of sadness manifesting itself in his features as he gazed at it. It was more than a simple picture; it was a picture of the woman he'd once loved… or perhaps, the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Lily's red hair curled softly around her pale face, contrasting sharply with the brilliant green eyes that characterised her appearance. A simple but genuine smile graced her delicate features, giving off a warm radiance that had not diminished with the depleted lustre of the photograph.

"Lily," Severus murmured softly, running his fingers over her picture again. A sorrowful smile almost graced his features before he caught himself; Severus Snape did not smile, and certainly not out of sentiment for a past which had long been lost. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and placing her picture back in the drawer from where it had come, almost regretful that he had retrieved it again.

Guilt was an emotion that Severus did not particularly enjoy dealing with, but the fact was that his many mistakes had accustomed him to the feeling. Therefore, it was not the feeling of guilt that overwhelmed him, nor was it what one would call regret… it was best described as grief, and as Severus had not allowed himself to become attached to many people in his lifetime, that was certainly one emotion that he did not know what to do with.

It was the realization that his overreaction had caused the rapid cessation of what might have been an enduring marriage and the termination of his child—a child who may have helped Severus to finally find a palpable sense of redemption— that had stirred these unpleasant and long repressed emotions in him. He wouldn't call himself child-friendly, exactly, but the thought of having a family to come home to at the end of every day stirred some sort of yearning in him, and accentuated the acute feeling of loneliness he felt. Not for the first time, he found himself faced with a severe longing to go back and do everything again: the right way. Such a wish was folly, however, and he knew it. For some reason, that knowledge made the desire increase tenfold.

It would have been easier to release the emotion through the tears that were certainly the source of the pressure behind his eyes, but years of repressing such urges had formed a habitual tendency to erect walls between his heart and mind, and as he did so, stoicism returned. Along with it came an inexplicable exhaustion—his body's natural defence against the forces which threatened to bring the emotions rushing back.

Tipping his head back to rest, Severus once again allowed his eyes to fall closed, grateful for the release when he felt the gentle tug of slumber pulling at his conscious mind. Easily he succumbed, giving very little thought to what he would do when he woke again and all his problems were still waiting to be solved.

Many hours later, Severus awoke with a start. He looked at the time and knew instantly why. He'd slept all the way through the night and for most of the day. The emotional energy, coupled with the weariness he'd developed making his potions and the exhaustion of his Death Eater's meeting, had caused him to become so fatigued that he'd slept for nearly twenty hours. As usual, his convenient internal clock had awoken him just in time to make his way down to his office to meet Potter for Occlumency lessons.

Trying to rid himself of the crick in his neck, he rose from the couch and changed into a fresh pair of black robes, not bothering to check the mirror before he left. Half an hour later, he was seated in his office, watching the clock. As usual, the boy was late. Severus smirked to himself, thinking of the points he would take when the school year started.

As the hour ticked by, Severus became more and more irritated by the boy's tardiness. Honestly, an hour late was a bit much, even for Potter. Finally, Severus decided to go and find the boy who was making a mockery of his time. On his way to Gryffindor tower, however, a sharp pain in his left arm made him stop in his tracks. He was being called, and he surely could not ignore the Dark Lord. Deciding that he would berate the boy later, he left the castle in a rush, summoned his Death Eater robes and mask, and apparated at the gates.

Snape arrived promptly, and to his relief, he wasn't the last one there. Being late was never favorable to the Dark Lord, and hardly ever went unpunished. He joined the circle of followers, and stood there silently. Before long, everyone coming had arrived, and the Dark Lord seemed satisfied with the turnout.

Voldemort stood at the head of the room, surrounded by his followers.

"My faithful servants," he said softly. "Today is a glorious day."

Voldemort stepped down off the platform he'd been standing on, and began to pace the inner ring of the circle. There was a short pause in which he seemed to be examining each of the hooded men he stopped in front of. Severus waited patiently, breath abated, as Voldemort gradually made his way towards him.

"For many years, I have searched for a way to prevent my end. Apparently, I was not guarded enough sixteen years ago to stop my own diminishment. But now," He paused as he came to stand in front of Severus. Unlike he had with the rest of the men, however, Voldemort did not step away. He stood directly in front of the Potions Master, as though to sense his reaction to what was to come. "I have discovered a spell which cannot fail. Very similar to the one I used in my resurrection, I require two things; the blood of a faithful servant, and the heart of my enemy."

Voldemort looked directly at Severus. "I have my faithful servant," he raised his hand into the air and snapped his fingers. "And my enemy."

Voldemort stepped back from Severus, and he could see a Death Eater dragging a bloody body into the center of the room. Voldemort cackled evilly.

'Oh Lord,' Severus thought, 'it can't be…'

Severus' fears were soon confirmed as the boy was thrown to the floor and kicked onto his back; it was Potter. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of his mangled body, but he was careful to betray nothing of what he felt to the vile creature standing in front of him. He kept his mind completely occluded, letting the Dark Lord sense only joy and happiness, despite his real desire to spit in disgust on the evil imitation of a man he was forced to call "Lord".

"Severus," Voldemort hissed. "I believe you are familiar with the Asterisus potion?"

Severus nodded.

"For those who are not," Voldemort said, raising his voice and looking around at the crowd of masked men. "This glorious liquid is exactly what I need to perform a binding spell between myself… and a prodigy. I will choose one of my most loyal servant's children, and he and I will add our blood to this potion. When we drink it, we will merge to become one in two… nearly invincible. This child will, of course, go through the same rigorous training I endured to come to full power before we perform the spell. But as the potion must sit for a year, it will need to be made now to be complete in time to use on my new half.

"Each of you will bring your child to me five months from now. Until that time, I suggest that you prepare them as well as you can. The strongest and most clever shall be chosen as my prodigy… but I will have chosen far before I finish the testing, I can ensure that. It is in your children's best interests that they are ready… I think you will find that those who are not will suffer most… and suffering often leads to death."

Voldemort finally stepped away from Severus, taking to circling the group once more. Anxiety hung in the air as he did so. Every Death Eater was considering what had just been said, and though these were not the purest of men, each still cared for his child. What Voldemort had implied stuck fear in the hearts of the men that were seemingly fearless.

"For ages I have wasted my energy seeking to defeat this boy." Voldemort said softly, delicately and painfully pronouncing each syllable. "I was so blind when the answer was right in front of me. Why try to prove my superiority to him, when I could simply have him done away with and use his death to my advantage?"

It seemed that Voldemort was speaking to himself more than to his followers. He stood staring at the beaten boy in speculation, as if pondering why he'd not seen an answer so simple before.

"Men, tonight starts a new era. Lord Voldemort rises again… but this time, not to defeat Harry Potter. Oh, make no mistake, the boy will be killed. But the rest of the Wizarding world needn't know it… yet. We will kill this boy, and then one among you will take his place. One who knows the facets of his everyday life, one who has already been able to fool Dumbledore into believing anything we want him to…"

Severus froze. The Dark Lord was talking about him, he knew it. He was going to be asked to take the boy's place. He was going to be asked…

"Severus," Voldemort said suddenly. "You know what I am going to ask you to do. Now hear what I need you to do now. You will take this boy," He jerked his head over his shoulder at Harry, "and prepare the potion. I want you to use your blood… Oh, and as you cut out his heart, make sure he's conscious. It needs to be beating when it is added… and go slowly; I don't want any damage done to it."

Severus nodded, paling behind his mask. He walked purposefully towards the boy, acting as though he was looking forward to the task he was being asked to perform. He carelessly grabbed the boy by the leg, feeling that it was the sturdiest of his body parts, and dragged him out of the room.

Once out into the corridor, Severus looked around, and seeing that no one was around, he knelt next to the boy.

"Oh, Potter," He muttered, shaking his head. "What did they do to you?"

xxx End Chapter xxx