Special thanks to Anna Rose!
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Ch39: ANSWERS
Give me back my point of view
Cause I just can't think for you
I can hardly hear you say
What should I do, well you chooseÂ
Oh, look what you've done
You've made a fool of everyone
Oh well, it seems like such fun
Until you lose what you had won
(Look What You've Done by Jet)
Harry awoke, much later, in a dark room full of snoring boys. He felt disoriented and confused, like he had been sucked into a tunnel. At first he didn't know where he was. He could've sworn he had just been in a warm and comfortable bed, looking up at two smiling faces. One of them had long, red hair while the other one had black and unruly hair, just like himself.
My parents, Harry realized, sitting up quickly. He reached for his glasses and quickly put them on his nose. His heart sank when he realized he was in Gryffindor tower. It must have been a dream; he knew perfectly well they were dead.
The Dursleys ... Harry had to close his eyes. He remembered so much from his time with them, so many details. Things he should have forgotten. Things he didn't want to remember.
"All right there, Harry?" someone asked from a bed beside him. Ron.
"Sure," said Harry, frowning in confusion. He felt as though he was ignoring something important. "This may sound silly, but ... which day is this?"
It was dark so Harry couldn't see very well, but he could feel Ron's eyes on him from across the room.
"It's Monday, April the fifteenth. Why?"
"1996?"
"Yeah? Have you gone mental or something, mate?" Ron's tone was only slightly mocking.
Harry felt a sudden urge to stick out his tongue, but refrained himself. His Master didn't accept childish behaviour.
The thought made Harry blink, but before he could grasp its importance his mind had wandered elsewhere. He began to lightly stroke Akin's tiny head, chuckling slightly as he remembered the day in the zoo with the Dursleys as though it had happened yesterday. Funny, how he could use snakes like that. He should tell Hermione; maybe she had a clever idea of how to use that advantage in a duel. Harry realized she would probably tell him to take Animagus lessons from McGonagall so he could be a snake as well. That would be very convenient if he ever needed to get away. Merlin knew he ended up in trouble often enough as it was, with or without Death Eaters. Harry hissed this idea to Akin, who seemed quite taken with the idea of Harry turning into a snake like him.
So many memories! Harry felt as though he could spend the whole day doing nothing but think. The future didn't seem very important.
The chamber of secrets ... the basilisk. Now that had been a huge snake, not to mention dangerous. Couldn't everyone have a basilisk though? All they needed was a chicken egg and a toad. However, it would be difficult for them to control the snake if they couldn't speak Parseltongue... Harry shrugged and started to think about Fawkes, and his old Defense teacher Professor Lockhart. Then he started to think about the ward in St Mungos, and if the professor had gotten any better. Harry hoped not, the world was a better place without him.
Thank Merlin Hermione wasn't obsessed with him anymore. On the other hand she was more obsessed with the books than the author himself. Still, better to have the scumbag out of the world, thought Harry. Hermione was his girlfriend after all, and - wait. That wasn't quite correct. She broke up with him. And then...
Oh no. No, no, no. Lucius had her! Death Eaters! Stone Edge! The Dark Lord!
Harry gasped, cold panic spreading from his gut to his very core. The bite of frost was so fierce and painful it felt like it was cleaving him. He was ... no, it couldn't be, it had to be a dream.
Deep down, Harry didn't need to remove the snake around his wrist and look at his forearm to know it was true. But he had to be sure.
Terrified, and widely awake now, Harry's stiff fingers closed around Akin's slim body, then removed the snake. The sight of a horrible skull with a snake curling out of its mouth was clearly visible for Harry, even through the dark. He could have sworn his heart stopped the very moment when he could no longer deny the truth of all the terrible things he had done, every selfish and manipulative thing, every person or creature he had tortured and killed.
Harry did the only thing he could do: he screamed.
Blood rushed to his ears and his scream tore at his throat so much it hurt, but all the while he screamed, screamed like he had never screamed before. He was so terrified, so full of utter and complete horror that he didn't know what to do with himself. He had tortured for fun. He had killed a pregnant woman. He had gotten Ron's, his best friend's brother Percy killed! He had flirted with Bellatrix, he had fawned on the Dark Lord, and perhaps worst of all ... he had done nothing to stop Lucius from taking Hermione.
Harry couldn't breathe. So many emotions were threatening to burst out of him at once that he was sure he was going to explode. He felt sparks of magic in the air around him, but was too distraught to care.
Harry stumbled out of bed and fell blindly to the floor. His hand flew up to his throat while he struggled for breath. He had stopped screaming, and he was dimly aware of someone trying to grab his shoulders. Black spots danced before his eyes.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" breathed Ron, sounding shaken. Neville had gotten out of bed as well, while Dean and Seamus were still in their beds, ignoring them.
Harry forcibly shook his head and croaked out a `no.'Â He was not all right!Â
He turned desperately to Neville, clutching the boy's PJs like a drowning man. "I am a good person, right? I cannot possibly be a Death Eater, can I?"
"It was just a dream, Harry," said Neville nervously. "Besides, if you were one you would have the Dark Mark."
Harry moaned and shook his head in denial. "I'm not..." he whispered. "I cannot be, no..."
Someone put a hand on his shoulder from behind and Harry started and spun around, only to see Ron standing there.
"Go to bed, Harry."
Harry blinked, trying to clear the fog of confusion and horror in his brain. He felt an itch in his fingers to use Dark Arts, but ignored it the best he could. It had only been 24 hours since the last time. He could wait -
Why was he even thinking about it? He could never use the Dark Arts again!
Never...
A cold hand clutched Harry's heart. The thought of never using any Dark Arts again bothered him immensely, more than what he would like to admit. Closing his eyes, Harry willed himself to not think about it. He knew that wishing would not be enough to stop him from being one of the Dark Lord's followers. It didn't matter that he remembered everything now and regretted it. It didn't matter that the Dark Lord had manipulated him into taking the mark. His time with the Death Eaters was so strong and so fresh in his mind that he couldn't help feeling as though he belonged there as much as he belonged at Hogwarts. Months with training and learning had made their desired effect. And so had the potion.
Harry felt sick and the content in his stomach did a sudden jump. He had to clutch his mouth tightly with his hands to stop the vomit from spraying across the room. Harry rushed to the bathroom and wasted no time in leaning over the toilet and retch. When he was done he shakily locked the door to the bathroom with the most powerful locking charm he could manage.
He went over to the sink, trembling violently while he washed his face and gulped down several handfuls with water. For a while he simply stared at the running water. It seemed like a good way to keep himself from thinking and remembering.
It had been so much easier before. He had known who he was then, despite of not knowing his past. Now he didn't know who he was anymore. Was he the Boy-Who-Lived, the Light Side's hero and fighter, or was he a Death Eater, Heir of the Dark Lord? Did none of the options fit him, or did both?
Harry let out a shaky breath and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was paler than it used to be and his hair was a mess.  His lips held little or no colour, while his eyes were framed red as though he had been crying. What hit Harry, however, was how the colour of his eyes had changed.  His eyes didn't have the startling, green look in them anymore. They shone with a darker intensity that he couldn't quite explain. Perhaps eyes really are the window of the soul, he mused. He certainly had a darker soul than before.Â
Harry let his eyes travel down to his arms, still finding it hard to believe he was marked as a Death Eater. The snake tattoo stretched itself up his arm as high as it could go, curled down again and hissed. Harry felt as though it was mocking him.
He had to get rid of it.
Fumbling, he searched the cabinet for something he could use. His gaze finally landed on a scissor and he quickly took it up. He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the sink. He glared at the ugly mark and smirked bitterly. He played with the scissor between his fingers a bit, then opened the handle to part the tip. He used the sharpest part to try to rip and puncture the skin where the dark mark was. He didn't dare to use a spell, it was too unpredictable.
It hurt a great deal, but it didn't damage to mark at all. Crying out in frustration, Harry ripped the scissor across his skin harsher and more furiously than before. Every now and then the scissor would trail to unmarked skin, and when it did it created an angry and red line.
With a sigh, Harry realized he couldn't destroy to mark. Trying a different tactic, he began to trace the outline of the mark with the scissor. He punctured his skin, watching dispassionately as red blood began to flow out from where the wound was. Harry clenched his jaw, letting the scissor dig deeper into his flesh. He even tried to angle the scissor to parallel his arm so he could get the tip underneath the mark and break through it that way, but it didn't help.
-
It was a good while later Harry finally gave up, panting. His whole arm was covered in blood, but the only place he was actually bleeding was around the mark. The mark itself was as whole as ever and continued to mock him. He felt a strong urge to sob when he realized that he was marked for the rest of his life; there was nothing he could do to make it go away.
Harry realized the dark mark was another thing he had in common with Hogwarts' potion master. If anyone knew what Harry was going through it was Snape, and Harry needed someone who knew what he was going through.
Knowing Snape probably was his safest bet to get some answers, Harry decided he had to go and see him. It was way past curfew, but when did the man ever sleep anyway?
Cleaning up the mess with the wand which still belonged to the dark lord, Harry opened the door back to the dormitory. All the boys were sleeping again, which made Harry wonder how long he had stayed in the bathroom. Silently finding a long-sleeved sweater and Akin, Harry put both on while he left Gryffindor tower.
Harry's heart was already aching for Hermione. He really missed her. She'd known what to do...
Harry met no one on his way to the dungeons and he was grateful. He had no idea how he would react to anyone at the moment. He doubted he could keep his head cool if anyone startled him. It was possible he would curse someone instinctively.
Harry reached the dungeons in no time. The air was much cooler down there and made him freeze despite of his sweater. On top of that he felt ill with nervousness.
Telling himself to just get it over and done with and stop being such a baby, he knocked on the dark, looming door in front of him which he knew were the entrance to Snape's living quarters.
Harry waited for someone to open, but the door remained closed for a long time. Harry was just about to leave when the door finally opened, and he was face to face with a tired and angry looking potion master.
To see Snape so annoyed didn't help Harry's nervousness, and he actually took himself in taking a few steps back.
"What, pray tell, are you here for in the middle of the night, Potter?" barked the head of Slytherin viciously. Harry gulped and prayed that it wasn't a mistake for him to come.
"Sorry to bother you sir, but I was wondering if I could talk to you? Only for a minute, it will not take long. It is important." Harry shot the man a desperate look which he instantly hated himself for. He wasn't going to beg ... he was better than that. His Lord had thought him to never-
Harry quickly interrupted himself, forcing himself back to the present. He searched the older man's face, but his expression was hard for Harry to assess. Snape scowled thoughtfully, but opened the door wider so Harry could get in.
Snape's living quarters were simple, but elegant. The floor had pale, almost white walls, which contrasted with the dark, rich wooden floor under Harry's feet. Almost all the furniture was black, including a couch and an armchair in the right corner as well as a huge bookcase in the left corner. It was simple, but still seemed to reflect Snape's personality. Â Now that Harry had seen it he couldn't imagine Snape's living quarters looking any different.
"Sit down," commanded the potion master, pushing Harry down on the couch before he sat down on an armchair on the opposite side of Harry. "Spill."
Harry nodded and looked down at his hands, knowing it wouldn't be easy.
"I - I wanted to thank you for helping me when I was imprisoned. You tried to get me out, and ... I will never forget that. Thank you, sir."
Snape sighed in exasperation and anger. "This is the reason you came to see me? It couldn't possibly wait until morning, when people are not trying to sleep?"
Harry's eyes widened. "You were sleeping? I did not mean to wake you, sir, I just figured -"
"Figured what?" asked Snape dangerously, and Harry swallowed what he had been planning to say about assuming Snape never slept.
"Never mind," he murmured. "It is not the main reason I came to see you, however."
Snape waited for Harry to continue.
"I also wanted to ask you about being a Death Eater. What made you take the mark anyway?"
"That is none of your business."
"Please, sir, I need to know." So much for not begging, thought Harry morosely.
Snape folded his arms and looked at Harry down his nose, almost defiantly. "Why is that?"
Harry opened his mouth to tell the professor about his own mark, or maybe even show it, but his confidence left him in the last second. It left him a bitter taste in his mouth. He was such a coward.
"Because," he started, casting around for an excuse. "I have seen a lot of things of what Death Eaters do. I know more about how they think, how they act. How they kill..." Harry's voice trailed off as he remembered the people he had killed himself. He found it hard to believe that only a year before he had been terrified of knowing that he either had to be a murderer or a victim. Now he already had killed someone, but it was not the Dark Lord and he could still lose. He would have to kill again.
"You want to know why I decided to become one?" Snape challenged. Harry nodded carefully. "Very well. However, make sure you remember that I did it of my own free will. Both of my parents were dark wizards and I was raised as one. They sided with the Dark Lord early and I was expected to do the same.
"School slowed down those plans and it was decided that I would wait with taking the mark until I had finished my education. It would be too risky to let me take the mark before that, as it is difficult to hide something like that in a school. If it was to be discovered, the consequences would be ... disastrous."
Harry tried to swallow the abnormally huge lump he had in his throat. He suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that Snape wasn't entirely talking about himself, but Harry as well. Did he already know?
"School changed my view on some matters, however," Snape continued as though he was talking about how he liked his coffee. "I discovered that everything did not evolve around the Dark Lord, and that the world could be a better place without him. However, school also left me bitter. I was different than everyone else and thus did not get along with many. I began to study the Dark Arts and dream of how I could hurt people like your father. I am sure you remember from my memories in the Pensieve that we did not get along very well. He was a self-centered, conceited and selfish boy, who showered himself in undeserved attention." Snape sneered at this, his black eyes boring into Harry. Harry held his tongue; he wanted Snape to continue. Snape did.
"I stuck to my family's plan and took the mark right after I finished school. For a while everything was good and I was more than happy to follow the Dark Lord and do his bidding. It was refreshing to feel as though I belonged. Then, after several years in his service, I began to grow tired of the never-ending lifestyle. There was always someone I had to kill, always a house or a family that needed to be taken care of. I had to prove myself to the Lord all the time, and even though I succeeded in getting into his inner circle I never felt safe. I often wondered if he was going to let me live if I slipped up, or if he was going to torture me for bringing him bad news. It became old, and I was sick of being treated like dirt and like I did not matter. I became tempting to settle down with a family of my own."
"A family?" echoed Harry before he could stop himself, finding it hard to look at Snape as a family man.
Snape took one look at Harry's stunned face and curled his upper lip. "Yes, Potter, a family. Is it that hard to imagine a teacher can have a family outside Hogwarts?"
Harry hadn't given it a lot of thought, but quickly shook his head. "When did you decide to become a spy?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.
"When I overheard a certain prophecy," drawled Snape in triumph, his black eyes boring into Harry's again. Harry remembered that the potion master was a skilled in mind reading and quickly looked away.
"So you know," muttered Harry quietly. Snape nodded.
"I do, but so do all the other Death Eaters at Stone Edge. Do you not remember? Didn't the potion work?"
"Oh yes, it worked all right," said Harry. "I remember telling them. I just do not like to think about it."
"Ignoring the problem will not make it go away," Snape pointed out. "However, it was after hearing the prophecy for the first time I realized that the Dark Lord was not unbeatable and that I could be a free man. Dumbledore discovered that I had overheard him and Trelawney and we had a little chat. That is when I agreed on being a spy and he offered me a position at Hogwarts."
"I am sorry you had to blow your cover because of me, Professor," Harry offered. He felt guilty, especially since he remembered how difficult he had made it. It wasn't just because he had been too weak to run, he had been too scared. He hadn't wanted to escape. Harry realized it was the torture he had received after that incident that made him lose all thoughts of being a light wizard. After that he began to long for the power he saw the Death Eaters have. He had wanted to be the one who caused pain instead of being the one who received it.
Snape said nothing to Harry's apology, but he didn't seem angry either. Harry found that encouraging.
"Sir ... when I was at the Stone Edge, the Dark Lord wanted to give me a potion. I do not know what it is called, but it was light green and smelled awful. Do you have any idea of what it does and how to counter it?"
Snape's head snapped up at this. "A potion? Did you take it? All three doses?"
Harry shook his head, only answering the last question. "No ... I overheard the Dark Lord talking to Bella about how it would work. He said that after I took it I would not have a mind of my own anymore, and that I would be completely under his control until the day he died. Something that cannot happen then as long as I am the only one who can kill him."
"You use the name `Dark Lord,'" observed Snape. Harry figured it was no point in denying it. He couldn't even imagine using the Dark Lord's real name anymore. It was impossible.
"Yes," he said, looking down. Snape didn't ask him why, but continued as though he had never mentioned it.
"The Dark Lord is right about the potion, I happen to know a lot about it as I was supposed to make it.  I believe he has a rather dubious interpretation about the prophecy, but you never know how things will turn out. He could be right about the fact that he cannot be killed by anyone but you, but then that should go for you as well, Potter. I suppose you are not interested in finding out if you are, in fact `immortal' or not by letting me try to kill you?"
Harry just stared, wondering if the potion master was serious or if he had attempted a joke. "Um, not really," he replied.
"Thought so. I would not recommend you to try to get yourself killed by some stupid stunt either. Merlin knows we need you alive so you can challenge the Dark Lord. We must remember that he believes you are immortal as long as you do not attack each other; we can find a way to use that to our advantage."
Harry nodded in agreement, but then thought of a certain Gryffindor girl. "But the Dark Lord has Hermione! We need to find a way to save her!"
"You will do no such thing!" Snape thundered. "She is not important enough in this war!"
"But sir!" Harry objected, unable to keep the desperation away from his voice. "She is important to me!  I need her! Why try to win this war if there is nothing to win for?"
Snape narrowed his eyes dangerously. "I recommend you to stop only thinking about yourself this instant! You truly are your father's son if you are so shortsighted as that you cannot see the reason people keep sacrificing themselves for you. We must win this war, or it would have been for nothing."
Harry blinked. Great. Like he needed to be reminded of all the people who had sacrificed themselves for him. What really stung, however, was that Snape had practically said they hadn't done it because they loved him, they done it for the greater good. "You are right. Sorry." Harry felt the urge to kick something. He couldn't believe he had apologized to Snape twice already, that was just plain ridiculous
"It is no use beating yourself up over Miss Granger's captivity, Potter," Snape advised, "only one with a Dark Mark can reach her now as long as she is in the Dark Lord's clutches. He makes sure to block all possibilities for Apparition, Floo and Portkeys in cases like this."
Harry made sure to keep his face blank so it wouldn't betray the turmoil of thoughts that had started to spin in his head... He decided to change the subject. "As for the potion, though ... is there a way to counter it?"
Snape threw Harry a concerned look that Harry definitely didn't like. "No. There is only two ways to have some degree of control over it. The best way is to simply refuse drinking it as it has to be taken willingly. If you already have it in your system the only thing you can do is to stay away from all Dark Arts."
Harry felt his eyes widen. "Dark Arts? Why?"
"The potion interacts directly with Dark Arts and need it in order to work. The Dark Arts creates a unique energy which the potion feeds from. It cannot work without it."
Harry smiled in relief. It felt good to know there was a way to control it. He doubted he could stop with the Dark Arts, but he didn't need to as long as he didn't drink the last dose of the potion. Now he just needed to save Hermione.
Harry stood up from the couch, and nodded politely to Snape. "I better go back to Gryffindor, sir. Thank you for the potion, the talk, everything. I will not forget it."
The potion master stood up as well and crossed his arms. "This took more than one minute, Potter."
Harry grimaced sheepishly. "I know."
Snape led him to the door and opened it like he couldn't wait for Harry to disappear.
"Good night, Professor," said Harry, stepping out in the hall. He realized this had to be the longest civil conversation he had ever had with the head of Slytherin. It made him feel rather optimistic about the future.
"Night, Potter. Next time you decide to grace me with your presence be sure to come in day time." Snape was just about to close the door, when he opened it again. He curled his lips in a way that could almost be described as a cruel smile, and added, like in afterthought: "And ten points from Gryffindor for being out of bed after curfew."
Harry just rolled his eyes and began to walk back to the Portrait of the Fat (but Undeniably Ugly) Lady. It didn't matter what Snape had said about Hermione not being important enough in the war. He was going to save her the next time his mark burned. In the mean time he would simply have to keep the mark a secret and prepare for what could be the most important fight in his life.
-
A/N: There's a picture for this chapter. If you wish to see it, simply go to my yahoo!group address from my profile on ff.net. You can find the link here: http://www.fanfiction.net/~quizgirl
Tell me about your plans for the summer! I'm going to spend some time with my family and friends, find a job and have fun. I hope to visit England, but I don't know if it'll work out yet. Thanks for reviewing! I hope you liked the chapter.
-->