Disclaimers: Neither the idea of Harry Potter nor the characters belong to
me in any way. They are the sole property of JKR. I do not make any money
of this story either.
Author's Note: Every other year I give my sister a story as a birthday present. It's more or less tradition. As I just started up writing again I thought this would be a nice start. This story has been written for pure enjoyment. Please do not take it any different. If Slash is not your cup of tea - or the Harry Potter/Severus Snape pairing - you should not be reading this story. There is no explicit sex in this story; intimacy does not go beyond a kiss here or there. Harry Potter is over 20 years old now as well.
Thanks to: Darkmoore, my beta. You are the greatest; I would not know what to do without you! Any medical knowledge that is portrayed in the story has been contributed by Darkmoore; I would not know how to put a band-aid on a paper-cut. Further all mistakes are mine, Darkmoore did her best to find them, but as my mother tongue is German I still have problems with mixing certain words up. Thank you, Darkmoore.
Christine, my sister, who I love dearly and who is a continuous source of encouragement for me.
Chapter 1 – Loss of Memory
Lurking behind the corner of a house Severus Snape spied into an alley. His mind was not entirely focused on the mission, it kept wandering back to the briefing in Dumbledore's study and the way the old goat had persuaded him to take part in the current dilemma. For exactly one year the world had been free of Voldemort, but there were still problems with the minions he had left behind. Almost every other day further acts of wizardly terrorism occurred. Most of these attacks consisted in humiliating and/or killing Muggles or the Muggleborn amongst the wizarding society.
Snape would not wish any of those deaths on anyone – not even his worst enemy. Like at the time when Voldemort had still been with them they strove to strike terror into people's hearts. Not just wizards and witches, also Muggles. Muggles and Squibs who had no way of protecting themselves against Cruciatus or any other pain inducing spell they had come up with. Lately disturbing news of victims of a newly invented spell had reached Dumbledore's ears. Horribly disfigured bodies had been found. The Muggle autopsies had revealed their inner organs to be rearranged by a force so strong that they featured cell-deep fissures.
The report they had received from the police had been in scientific language and when Dumbledore asked Severus Snape to translate it into 'proper English a normal wizard can understand' he had not been overly pleased. It took him only an hour to work through the ten-page treatise the forensic doctor had composed. Before he had handed in his translation work, Snape had sat in his office, a bottle of Firewhisky in front of him, without a glass.
While Voldemort had inspired far more fear in the people, his leftover supporters did their fair share of damage. They seemed to search for spells that did more physical damage than the Cruciatus. Snape could not tell if there was more pain involved, but he could not imagine such bodily changes going over completely painlessly. One part of the report stuck in his mind.
"This is not a natural prenatal deformity, for this person would not have been viable. This is the result of a conscious torture of a human being. Who would do something like this or how it is possible is beyond my understanding."
Severus Snape was used to a lot, but this was beyond everything he knew. No one deserved to die in this fashion. Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra were nothing even closely related to this new spell. At least Avada Kedavra killed quickly and only prolonged subjection to the Cruciatus curse did sever harm to the mind. Azkaban would be too good for them. Standing in the shadows at the entrance to the ally he thought back on the first time he had seen a victim of this spell with his own eyes. Even Dumbledore had looked shocked at the sight - and there was not much that could faze the wily old wizard.
Before Harry Potter had defeated his archenemy no one had spared a thought to what would happen to the Death Eaters, once everything was over. Now everyone was scared of what the ownerless dark wizards would continue to do.
The Order of the Phoenix had not been disbanded yet and even while Snape was no longer a spy for the Light he was still one of their members. Just how Dumbledore managed to get him to volunteer for certain missions again and again was beyond him. His current hypothesis was that there was something funny in the tea.
But then, Dumbledore and Snape had a kind of ritual they went through every time Snape was sent on a mission. It was more for Snape's peace of mind than anything else. While he had always had to do anything Voldemort had told him without protest, with Dumbledore he was free do object. And he did. Every time before a meeting that was what he did, test Dumbledore and remind himself of his freedom. On some missions he really did not want to go, but he did, out of respect for his fatherly friend. It was a game; both players understood the rules of.
A sudden noise shook him out of his thoughts. It had not been loud, but it made Snape suspicious. Wrapped into the invisibility cloak as he was, no one would be able to see him, nevertheless he wished to stay inconspicuous and the thought of someone tripping over him just seemed so terribly undignified.
The figure that finally stumbled out of the alley did not have a wand in hand. Come to that, the man did not even wear robes but normal Muggle clothing. Intrigued against his better judgement, Snape closed in on the unknown person. Brown, wild hair stood up in every direction. Looks like Harry used to wear it. The thought had come so unexpected Snape had no time to steel himself against the pressure in the vicinity of his heart. Damn you, Harry Potter.
The Boy Who Lived. Hogwarts golden boy. Albus Dumbledore's champion. The chink in Severus Snape's armour.
His right hand wrapped tightly in the silvery material of what had once been Harry's invisibility cloak, Snape buried all his feelings. It was one of the things Harry had left in their home. Actually Harry had not taken anything with him, not even his owl who had mourned the loss as much as he had. There had never been a body, but The Boy Who Lived had slowly turned into The Man Who Died For Us. Twelve months on the day and Snape still hurt like it had been mere hours ago that he realised his lover had never returned from the full-fledged battle.
The man stopped moving, looking around like he felt watched. That was the first time Snape managed to get a good look on the strangers face. He hadn't expected the shock at seeing the familiar face and had to clamp his left hand – which was still clutching his wand – over his mouth. Harry! The man looked exactly like Harry Potter. The only thing missing was the lighting scar on his forehead.
"John!" The voice that echoed in the ally sounded frightened and angry.
The sudden intrusion almost made Snape jump, but his iron discipline kept him from moving an inch. Moving might generate unnatural sounds and he did not want to make the Muggles notice anything strange. His eyes were trained on the Harry-look-a-like, who turned around only hesitatingly. It was like he felt the disturbance of the other Muggle just as strongly as Snape.
Interruption
"I'm here."
Even the voice sounded like Harry's. John? His mission forgotten, Snape silently followed the man until he met up with someone else.
"Jesus, you scared me to death. What is wrong with you? Why on earth did you just run off like that?" A young man came into view, shaking John furiously. The Muggle was dressed in the whites of a Muggle-nurse and looked scared - scared and extremely angry. "You don't even remember your bloody name, so stay with the group. The hospital is going to kill me if I lose you." The ring in his voice told Snape he was barely controlling his temper.
Hospital? Snape's mouth moved soundlessly. A well of protectiveness asserted itself in the vicinity of his stomach. If that Muggle would dare raise a hand against the Harry look-alike Snape would have to fight against the urge to jinx him into next week.
John's hand snapped up to his head. "I ... I thought I recognised this place." Looking distinctly green in the face he moved away from the enraged hospital employee to nearly brush against a dazed Snape and proceeded to lean against the house wall Snape had been lurking at only minutes ago. Breathing deeply he seemed to struggle with his composure. "I want to go back to St. Margaret's, please."
"For someone who's been in a coma for 9 months you move surprisingly fast," the nurse said much less irate than a minute before. He took John's elbow as if to keep him from running away again and led the shaken man away from the alley. "You should be more careful, this isn't a good neighbourhood." Decidedly gentle he continued talking to the obviously disturbed younger man, as if the perpetual drone of his voice about nonsense would actually calm down the patient who was docilely being dragged along. Snape suspected the nurse did it more for his own comfort than his charges.
He watched their progress until they vanished around another corner on the way to the main-street – long after he ceased to hear the nurse's babbling. After another moment of contemplation of the far away corner, he moved back to his spot at the wall. All thoughts about the mission had vanished from his mind and were only now returning slowly. Still, he could not help himself as he unwound his right hand from its tight grip on the cloak and without thinking his hand came to rest on the spot that Harry hat touched earlier. No. John. It can't be Harry. Our Harry is dead and this man didn't have the scar.
His hand curled up into a fist and his face grew grim. As he moved back into his position at the mouth of the alley, he decided that it would be a good move to see who the Harry-look-alike really was. It would be best to do that before the Daily Prophet discovered him. Just to make sure, of course.
Only the magical snares he had laid out before he had waited for his – hopefully – unsuspecting victim warned him. There was no suspicious noise in the alley, but the silent vibration of his wand alerted him to the danger. Someone had Apparated in and was just now trying to leave. Snape did not intend to give the offender a chance to get away and soundlessly sneaked closer. Muttering a curse he put the wizard to sleep.
"Way too easy." The words left his mouth as a mere whisper that didn't even reach his own ears. He crouched next to the prone body, removed the wand out of an unresponsive wand-hand, and then he prodded the man once, just to be sure. The wizard would sleep until the counter-spell was spoken, not even Finite Incantatem would be able to break it and it was bound to Snape as well. No power on earth would be able to wake up this Death Eater, and finally the Order would have its answers. Answers that might or might not prove vital to the cause.
His jaw clenched almost painfully, Snape Apparated himself and his prisoner to the safe location Dumbledore had pointed him to. His left hand lovingly patting a vial of Veritaserum in one of his numerous pockets.
A/N: Comments? Criticism? Suggestions? Review :). I'd appreciate it.
Author's Note: Every other year I give my sister a story as a birthday present. It's more or less tradition. As I just started up writing again I thought this would be a nice start. This story has been written for pure enjoyment. Please do not take it any different. If Slash is not your cup of tea - or the Harry Potter/Severus Snape pairing - you should not be reading this story. There is no explicit sex in this story; intimacy does not go beyond a kiss here or there. Harry Potter is over 20 years old now as well.
Thanks to: Darkmoore, my beta. You are the greatest; I would not know what to do without you! Any medical knowledge that is portrayed in the story has been contributed by Darkmoore; I would not know how to put a band-aid on a paper-cut. Further all mistakes are mine, Darkmoore did her best to find them, but as my mother tongue is German I still have problems with mixing certain words up. Thank you, Darkmoore.
Christine, my sister, who I love dearly and who is a continuous source of encouragement for me.
Chapter 1 – Loss of Memory
Lurking behind the corner of a house Severus Snape spied into an alley. His mind was not entirely focused on the mission, it kept wandering back to the briefing in Dumbledore's study and the way the old goat had persuaded him to take part in the current dilemma. For exactly one year the world had been free of Voldemort, but there were still problems with the minions he had left behind. Almost every other day further acts of wizardly terrorism occurred. Most of these attacks consisted in humiliating and/or killing Muggles or the Muggleborn amongst the wizarding society.
Snape would not wish any of those deaths on anyone – not even his worst enemy. Like at the time when Voldemort had still been with them they strove to strike terror into people's hearts. Not just wizards and witches, also Muggles. Muggles and Squibs who had no way of protecting themselves against Cruciatus or any other pain inducing spell they had come up with. Lately disturbing news of victims of a newly invented spell had reached Dumbledore's ears. Horribly disfigured bodies had been found. The Muggle autopsies had revealed their inner organs to be rearranged by a force so strong that they featured cell-deep fissures.
The report they had received from the police had been in scientific language and when Dumbledore asked Severus Snape to translate it into 'proper English a normal wizard can understand' he had not been overly pleased. It took him only an hour to work through the ten-page treatise the forensic doctor had composed. Before he had handed in his translation work, Snape had sat in his office, a bottle of Firewhisky in front of him, without a glass.
While Voldemort had inspired far more fear in the people, his leftover supporters did their fair share of damage. They seemed to search for spells that did more physical damage than the Cruciatus. Snape could not tell if there was more pain involved, but he could not imagine such bodily changes going over completely painlessly. One part of the report stuck in his mind.
"This is not a natural prenatal deformity, for this person would not have been viable. This is the result of a conscious torture of a human being. Who would do something like this or how it is possible is beyond my understanding."
Severus Snape was used to a lot, but this was beyond everything he knew. No one deserved to die in this fashion. Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra were nothing even closely related to this new spell. At least Avada Kedavra killed quickly and only prolonged subjection to the Cruciatus curse did sever harm to the mind. Azkaban would be too good for them. Standing in the shadows at the entrance to the ally he thought back on the first time he had seen a victim of this spell with his own eyes. Even Dumbledore had looked shocked at the sight - and there was not much that could faze the wily old wizard.
Before Harry Potter had defeated his archenemy no one had spared a thought to what would happen to the Death Eaters, once everything was over. Now everyone was scared of what the ownerless dark wizards would continue to do.
The Order of the Phoenix had not been disbanded yet and even while Snape was no longer a spy for the Light he was still one of their members. Just how Dumbledore managed to get him to volunteer for certain missions again and again was beyond him. His current hypothesis was that there was something funny in the tea.
But then, Dumbledore and Snape had a kind of ritual they went through every time Snape was sent on a mission. It was more for Snape's peace of mind than anything else. While he had always had to do anything Voldemort had told him without protest, with Dumbledore he was free do object. And he did. Every time before a meeting that was what he did, test Dumbledore and remind himself of his freedom. On some missions he really did not want to go, but he did, out of respect for his fatherly friend. It was a game; both players understood the rules of.
A sudden noise shook him out of his thoughts. It had not been loud, but it made Snape suspicious. Wrapped into the invisibility cloak as he was, no one would be able to see him, nevertheless he wished to stay inconspicuous and the thought of someone tripping over him just seemed so terribly undignified.
The figure that finally stumbled out of the alley did not have a wand in hand. Come to that, the man did not even wear robes but normal Muggle clothing. Intrigued against his better judgement, Snape closed in on the unknown person. Brown, wild hair stood up in every direction. Looks like Harry used to wear it. The thought had come so unexpected Snape had no time to steel himself against the pressure in the vicinity of his heart. Damn you, Harry Potter.
The Boy Who Lived. Hogwarts golden boy. Albus Dumbledore's champion. The chink in Severus Snape's armour.
His right hand wrapped tightly in the silvery material of what had once been Harry's invisibility cloak, Snape buried all his feelings. It was one of the things Harry had left in their home. Actually Harry had not taken anything with him, not even his owl who had mourned the loss as much as he had. There had never been a body, but The Boy Who Lived had slowly turned into The Man Who Died For Us. Twelve months on the day and Snape still hurt like it had been mere hours ago that he realised his lover had never returned from the full-fledged battle.
The man stopped moving, looking around like he felt watched. That was the first time Snape managed to get a good look on the strangers face. He hadn't expected the shock at seeing the familiar face and had to clamp his left hand – which was still clutching his wand – over his mouth. Harry! The man looked exactly like Harry Potter. The only thing missing was the lighting scar on his forehead.
"John!" The voice that echoed in the ally sounded frightened and angry.
The sudden intrusion almost made Snape jump, but his iron discipline kept him from moving an inch. Moving might generate unnatural sounds and he did not want to make the Muggles notice anything strange. His eyes were trained on the Harry-look-a-like, who turned around only hesitatingly. It was like he felt the disturbance of the other Muggle just as strongly as Snape.
Interruption
"I'm here."
Even the voice sounded like Harry's. John? His mission forgotten, Snape silently followed the man until he met up with someone else.
"Jesus, you scared me to death. What is wrong with you? Why on earth did you just run off like that?" A young man came into view, shaking John furiously. The Muggle was dressed in the whites of a Muggle-nurse and looked scared - scared and extremely angry. "You don't even remember your bloody name, so stay with the group. The hospital is going to kill me if I lose you." The ring in his voice told Snape he was barely controlling his temper.
Hospital? Snape's mouth moved soundlessly. A well of protectiveness asserted itself in the vicinity of his stomach. If that Muggle would dare raise a hand against the Harry look-alike Snape would have to fight against the urge to jinx him into next week.
John's hand snapped up to his head. "I ... I thought I recognised this place." Looking distinctly green in the face he moved away from the enraged hospital employee to nearly brush against a dazed Snape and proceeded to lean against the house wall Snape had been lurking at only minutes ago. Breathing deeply he seemed to struggle with his composure. "I want to go back to St. Margaret's, please."
"For someone who's been in a coma for 9 months you move surprisingly fast," the nurse said much less irate than a minute before. He took John's elbow as if to keep him from running away again and led the shaken man away from the alley. "You should be more careful, this isn't a good neighbourhood." Decidedly gentle he continued talking to the obviously disturbed younger man, as if the perpetual drone of his voice about nonsense would actually calm down the patient who was docilely being dragged along. Snape suspected the nurse did it more for his own comfort than his charges.
He watched their progress until they vanished around another corner on the way to the main-street – long after he ceased to hear the nurse's babbling. After another moment of contemplation of the far away corner, he moved back to his spot at the wall. All thoughts about the mission had vanished from his mind and were only now returning slowly. Still, he could not help himself as he unwound his right hand from its tight grip on the cloak and without thinking his hand came to rest on the spot that Harry hat touched earlier. No. John. It can't be Harry. Our Harry is dead and this man didn't have the scar.
His hand curled up into a fist and his face grew grim. As he moved back into his position at the mouth of the alley, he decided that it would be a good move to see who the Harry-look-alike really was. It would be best to do that before the Daily Prophet discovered him. Just to make sure, of course.
Only the magical snares he had laid out before he had waited for his – hopefully – unsuspecting victim warned him. There was no suspicious noise in the alley, but the silent vibration of his wand alerted him to the danger. Someone had Apparated in and was just now trying to leave. Snape did not intend to give the offender a chance to get away and soundlessly sneaked closer. Muttering a curse he put the wizard to sleep.
"Way too easy." The words left his mouth as a mere whisper that didn't even reach his own ears. He crouched next to the prone body, removed the wand out of an unresponsive wand-hand, and then he prodded the man once, just to be sure. The wizard would sleep until the counter-spell was spoken, not even Finite Incantatem would be able to break it and it was bound to Snape as well. No power on earth would be able to wake up this Death Eater, and finally the Order would have its answers. Answers that might or might not prove vital to the cause.
His jaw clenched almost painfully, Snape Apparated himself and his prisoner to the safe location Dumbledore had pointed him to. His left hand lovingly patting a vial of Veritaserum in one of his numerous pockets.
A/N: Comments? Criticism? Suggestions? Review :). I'd appreciate it.