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All Beneath the Full Moon [COMPLETE]	By : Onkoona Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 9163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3

Thursday, January 16th, 1998

Severus pulled his jacket coat closer for the umpteenth time. The
guard had taken his teaching robes when he'd been pushed into the
tiny dark and freezing cell the day before. The man left saying
"Death Eater scum masquerading as a teacher!" and then
Snape got spat on.

Now he sat huddled in the nearly dark cell, shivering in the cold.
But without magic there was no way to create heat or light and Snape
lacked the means of magic right now, so he could do nothing but try
to keep warm by wrapping his arms about him tighter and pulling up
his legs to his body, while his exhaled breath glittered dully in the
little bit of light it caught.

He realized he never should have bowed to Potter. Not that he had
had a choice; the pull of that green magical aura had been too
strong, and now with his willing submission it would be stronger yet.
He had felt it with the Dark Lord, he had felt it with Dumbledore and
now he felt it with Potter. Those other times he had resisted but
this time he had given in and submitted. What kind of fool was he to
subjugate himself to such a mere boy? But he knew what kind of fool:
an unprepared one. He had never expected to survive the Dark Lord's
death. Oh, he hadn't known the Dark Lord would try to take all the
Death Eaters with him in death, but he'd known that the chances for
survival were pretty much nil.

He shivered as his teeth started chattering again. And he noticed
the light had become a little dimmer; that meant night was
approaching and there were some long hours of total darkness coming
up before there would be food and water again.

His arms strained as he tried to huddle even closer. All he could
hope for now was that his trial would start soon and finish even
sooner, putting an effective end to the cold.

oqpodboqpo

Friday, January 16th, 1998, 9:30 am.

Severus woke up to the creak of his cell door opening. He blinked
at the light coming through the open door and saw two silhouettes
appearing. They came at him fast and he was grasped by his upper arms
and hauled onto his unsteady feet. A third man came in and Severus
was turned so he faced him. The man wore Auror red and as Severus'
eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that the men holding him
also wore red.

"It's time for your trial, Death Eater scum," the man
said, before grabbing Severus' hands and tying them roughly together
with rope that was so laden with magic spellcraft that they tingled
on Severus' skin. But it was those words by which Severus recognized
the Auror as the guard who had incarcerated him some days ago.

The man turned around without waiting for Severus' response and
started walking out the cell and along the corridor. The two men
holding him up also started moving and Severus tried but failed to
get his legs to carry him - they were too numb from the cold - so he
had no choice but to let them drag him with them.

They took him up at least three flights of stairs, Severus
couldn't be sure because he was busy trying to get his legs to work.
But after an indeterminable time of traveling through corridors, the
two men finally dumped him on a wooden bench opposite a wooden door
labeled 'Wizengamot, prisoner entrance, no smoking allowed'.

The two men and Severus' jailer-guard all leaned against the
wood-clad wall with the door in it and passed 'round cigarette butts
which were lit with the tip of their wands. Severus found he couldn't
stop from coughing at the smoke produced, but at least the location
was warm and well lit - a real window was sat high in the wall at the
end of the corridor - and real sunlight fell on Severus' upturned
face. He could hear a winter bird chirp outside. He closed his eyes
and savoured it.

Then a bell sounded - two metallic clanks. The guards each flicked
their wands to extinguish the butts and dispel the smoke and Severus
was hauled to his feet once more. This time he could put his weight
on his legs and they didn't buckle, so he could walk with the two men
instead of being dragged. And when he was pushed through the narrow
door after the guard, he was very glad of it because as he entered a
theatre-like space - with its circular wooden benches reaching almost
to the ceiling on the one side and an immensely tall enclosed table
on the other, with some ten shadowed figures sitting behind it - he
could see Potter and Weasley stand up from having been seated on the
lowest audience tier.

What are these kids doing here? Do they have to witness this
humiliation of their old teacher too? Anger welled up inside of
him and he straightened up more so as to look as if he had some
authority here, well, at least over the 'Golden Trio'. He caught
Potter's gaze and snarled in a stage whisper, "What the devil
are you doing here?"

The boy had the audacity to give him a smile, stepping a little
closer he said, "Don't worry, Sir, it'll be all right. Oh, and
by the way, I have your wand safely tucked away," Potter added.

Severus only had time to give the child a scathing look before his
escort pushed him towards a new horror. 'It'll be all right,'
echoed in Severus' head mockingly, because what he saw appear
before him was absolutely not going to be 'all right'.

"Let the accused be bound!" boomed a dark voice over and
above where the judges sat. There were objections from Potter and his
cronies, but Severus didn't bother to listen; you never won an
argument with the Wizengamot, why try to postpone the inevitable?

Instead he looked at the uncomfortable-looking chair that had
magically appeared before him. A straight-backed wooden piece of
furniture, harmless in and of itself, but what chilled Severus to the
bone were the heavy cast iron chains that were hanging from it in
strategic places. He hadn't known about this and he could feel the
panic starting to well up.

While he stood looking at the thing in horror, the argument played
itself out around him, without affecting him or the outcome. His
breathing rate increased as he was led forward to the thing and he
tried to distract himself by figuring out why he hadn't known this
would be here.

He had been tried before, but back then he hadn't been taken to
this courtroom. Then he had been locked in a small office with a
guard while Albus had argued his case. Only once had he stepped
before the wizards presiding over the case, and that had been solely
to show them the Mark had diminished to almost a shadow. The three
wizards had sat behind a large table in a small office-type room,
much like the one he had spent that same day in, and his entire court
appearance back then had lasted all of thirty seconds.

Now, at the feel of being pushed into that chair, his breath
hitched so hard he started coughing. He quickly got it under control
as the guard gave him a foul look before untying Severus' hands and
pushing his left arm to the chair's arm rest. The chains slithered
around his arm all by themselves, pinching his wounds but not hurting
him. Dear Merlin. Severus closed his eyes and cleared his
mind.

His right arm was placed and the chains tightened on the cast. He
cleared his mind and silently recited: Recipe for Wolfsbane
potion, second stage, begin:

Pour the Monk's Hood base after steeping for 3-7 hours and
straining, into a silvered cauldron. (Do not exceed steeping time!)
He tried to see the potion, smell its potency, anything to distract
himself from his legs being grabbed and moved to match the legs of
the chair and chained down. Add (while still cold): one dram of
Verdigris. Then add single grains until the liquid turns the shade of
a Brittlegill at its most red, while lightly stirring twice clockwise
to once counter clockwise. Let it rest two minutes.

Next followed a slithering chain over his thighs. Add
seventy-two drops of Dropwort juice, while stirring figure eights.
Don't take more than two minutes. (In winter time add two more drops)
Let it rest 10 minutes.

Color should match Ranunculus Acris yellow; if not, discard the
brew. A chain wrapped itself around his waist and pulled tight so
his back was pulled back to align with the straight chair back. Then
another wiggled over his chest. Oh Merlin. Uh, prepare paste of
pulped and mixed: one dram of dried Scarabaeus sacer, one and a half
dram of dried Loxosceles reclusa legs, three quarters of a dram of
pure Brimstone, 90 drops of premium quality Ashwinder venom (add
slowly), 180 drops of Sweet Vitriol, two drams of - uh - of dried
Dirty Trich (2 year old harvest, or older). It too pulled tight.
Severus closed his eyes tightly. He could feel his heart beating so
fast, as if it were trying to leave his now immobile chest. Breathe.
Heat to simmer (never boil!) Stir slowly for - uh - 23 minutes until
potion turns - uh - vermilion and starts to waft. Breathe. Warm
human hands positioned his head to look straight ahead and Severus
felt his eyes open as the chain was wound around his head and
tightened. Add a pinch of - uh - Calomel. Uh. Stir - ah -
clockwise vigorously until potion turns - uh... Breathe!

Then he felt the chains wiggle that much tighter around his torso,
followed by the dreaded familiar feeling of his mind being torn from
his body.

oqpodboqpo

Severus felt as if he was floating in a space that had neither up
nor down, neither right nor left, neither forwards nor backwards. All
it had were the most beautiful lights in an otherwise dark space.

There were many cyan and brown lights, some stationary, some
moving, some still, some swirly. But Severus' attention was
irresistibly drawn to the brightest of the lights: a radiant Star of
the deepest, purest Green.

He couldn't stop himself from floating to it and once he'd reached
it, he could do nothing but lie down at its base and bask in the
radiance.

Time had no meaning here; occasionally a light would move and
occasionally the Green Star would move as well, but all he did at
such a moment was not resist the movement, and he found himself
carried in the Green Star's wake with no effort at all.

Time passed, like a river running by, and at some point a square
entered the space, a square that radiated a soothing orange light. He
was tempted to go to it; it felt like the Orange was calling him, but
then he could not quite remember why it should or even why he should
give up his rightful place by the Green Star.

Then a white Orb appeared and he looked at it in wonder. Inside
the Orb more of the Orange appeared and again he felt a pull towards
it. But the pull of the Green proved stronger, and pretty soon he
couldn't quite remember that he had been subject to any call other
than the Green Star's overwhelming pull.

Some more time passed and at some point the White Orb just went
away. Then he couldn't quite remember what an 'Orb' was or what this
thing called 'Time' was; all he could remember was the Green. And
then it was a matter of course that the Green was the only thing he
had ever known, would know.

Until the moment he was torn to shreds.

oqpodboqpo

Friday, January 16th, 1998, 9:55 am.

It was a full five minutes before the trial started that Harry
Potter, Ronald Weasley, Felicity Dunsmore and the Honorable Augustus
Erskine, WC arrived at the entrance of the Wizengamot's Courtroom,
all a bit out of breath.

Ron was weighted down with three of the thickest leather tomes
Harry had ever seen - and that included Hermione's copy of Hogwarts:
A History - while Harry carried the late Headmaster's stone
Pensieve and Felicity toted an armful of paperwork and another bagful
hanging off her shoulder. Hermione had not joined them yet; her task
of obtaining the written permissions was keeping her busy at the
other end of the Ministry building. It was really a matter of queuing
to pick them up, but if things went as they had been going in the
past two days, it just might not be that easy.

Over the past two days, among the five of them - well, everybody
but Ron, who mostly ate - they had formed a strategy for Snape's
defence. Everything really hinged on getting approval to: A. get a
licence to bring Albus' portrait into the Ministry building and B.
get the Wizengamot to view portrait Albus as a credible witness.
Because only when the portrait was accepted would Erskine be able to
introduce the bottled memories as sworn testimony. Bottled memories
alone held no legal status, only when they'd been verified by a
secondary source - the owner of the memories, or someone else who was
there and who was not the defendant - would they be accepted as
evidence. And for that they needed portrait Albus. So they needed a
licence to have a magical portrait inside the MoM building, which
they had been trying to get for the last two days. Well, hopefully
'Mione would join them soon with the licence and the portrait - which
the Headmistress was at that moment baby-sitting at the Leaky
Cauldron.

With two low boings a bell rang and the wooden door marked
'Wizengamot, council entrance' opened. Harry let Erskine, Felicity
and Ron go first, closing the procession. They entered the
theatre-like space Harry remembered from the time he'd been accused
of Underage Magic.

The stone walls with the medieval sconces that all old magical
buildings seemed to have, the audience and witness benches rising up
to the ceiling on one side and the high judges' tables on the other
were an unwelcome sight to Harry, the bad memories of his own trial
resurfacing. If Harry's own experience was anything to go by, Snape
was in deep trouble. Suddenly he was glad he'd found Felicity and
Erskine; Harry had had Dumbledore defending him back then - now, even
without the Headmaster, Snape at least had a chance, however much the
man would hate the interference.

The small group quickly set down all their gear on the lowest of
the audience benches - Harry carefully placing the Pensieve on a
stand that magically appeared - and Harry and Ron had just sat down
when a deep male voice from above boomed, "Everyone rise for the
Honorable Chief Warlock and the Members of the Warlock council."

Both Harry and Ron quickly sprang up, and Harry could see a door
opening all the way in the top of the room on the side of the tall
table. About two dozen men and women - all dressed in Wizarding
robes, all older and all with grim faces - came in and spread out on
what turned out to be two tiers of tall tables, the second of which
was almost completely lost in the shadows. Most had papers with them
that were spread out on the table in front of them. Inkwells were
unscrewed and quills were sharpened.

As the men and women sat down Harry sat down too, after he saw
Felicity sit. From the corner of his eye he saw Ron follow suit.
Erskine stayed on his feet, holding a Wizarding law book.

There was a long pause after everybody had taken their seats, but
then a voice boomed, "Chief Warlock Ernest Horatio Prospero
presides."

One of the men sitting at the lower table stood up - Felicity,
Harry and Ron stood up also - and spoke, "We are here to sit in
judgement of Severus Tobias Snape, accused of being a Marked follower
of Tom Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord, also known as Voldemort;
in short: a Death Eater." A murmur went through the room.
"Furthermore he stands accused of the despicable murder of Albus
Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft,
by the use of the Unforgivable Killing Curse." As the man sat
back down, the other warlocks started whispering to each other. As he
slowly sat back down Harry looked over at Ron and saw the same worry
he himself felt: using the Killing Curse, for whatever reason,
carried an automatic sentence of death by Dementor; the trial had
barely started and it was not going well already.

The voice boomed again, "Warlock Henry Ethelred Auldershot
speaks for the prosecution."

On the left side of the lower table a portly middle-aged wizard in
brown robes with a brown pointy wizard's hat stood up and spoke. "All
evidence has been studied and logged in this case. I request a
verdict of guilty is entered immediately and the accused is taken
directly to Azkaban where the prescribed punishment can administered
before the day is out."

"No!" Harry couldn't stop from yelling as he sprang up
from his seat. He could hear Ron's shocked breathing as his friend
had shot up next to him.

"ORDER IN THE COURT" the Chief Warlock shouted.

Harry looked up at Erskine, who gave him a 'settle down and
don't worry' signal with his hand as he walked a few steps
forward, his robe flapping about his legs. He then lifted his free
hand and spoke, "I, Augustus Erskine, Wizard's Councillor, speak
for the defence!"

A murmur went through the warlock group. Then the voice of the
Chief Warlock boomed, "The court recognizes Augustus Eric
Erskine as defender of Severus Tobias Snape."

Another, louder, murmur was heard and Harry was relieved when
Erskine circled back to him, whispering, "Round one," while
showing him thumbs up.

"Call in the accused: Severus Tobias Snape," came from
above.

Harry's head turned as a door opened and an Auror stepped through,
followed by Snape and two more Aurors. Harry was shocked at the way
his old teacher looked; the face was almost grey, with stark black
shadows under his eyes. The man wasn't wearing his teaching robes and
his hands were bound in front of him. Harry could plainly see the
cast sticking out of one sleeve and a grubby white coil of bandaging
hanging out of the other.

In the last few days they had tried desperately to gain permission
to visit Snape - Harry had had a very bad feeling whenever he thought
of the well-being of the Potions Master - but had been rebuffed every
time. They had even gone as far as citing medical necessity, but that
had been shot down when Dean had had to admit he couldn't swear to it
under Veritaserum; Dean had just done too good a job of healing Snape
that Tuesday morning, so that no treatment would be needed until the
cast could come off next Monday. Now that Harry saw the state Snape
was in he was furious with himself that they hadn't tried harder; the
man looked like death warmed over.

At that moment Snape seemed to notice Harry for the first time and
Harry was almost gratified to hear the sheer malice in Snape's
question to him, "What the devil are you doing here?"
Snape's venom meant the man wasn't ailing too much, Harry decided and
just to needle him a little more, Harry put on his most disarming
face and said, "Don't worry, Sir, it'll be all right. Oh, and by
the way, I have your wand safely tucked away." He added the last
part as a consolation; he knew any wizard would feel better knowing
his wand was safe, even if Harry had strategically not brought it
into the MoM building. If the Wizengamot asked for it, they'd have to
wait while he went to fetch it.

Harry found he felt reassured, even happy at the patent withering
look Snape sent him at his comment.

"Let the accused be bound!" the voice of the Chief
Warlock boomed. And a plain wooden chair appeared out of nowhere in
the middle of the floor space. It was hung with heavy chains.

What? No! Harry remembered that creepy chair; had sat on it
at his own trial, its chains just twitching to wrap around him, but
he had not been ordered to be bound at that time.

Harry looked over at Erskine and the man met his gaze before
stepping forwards and loudly spoke, "We object to this binding;
the accused has not been sentenced yet and thus should not
be bound!"

"The crimes involve the use of an Unforgivable; binding him
under that accusation is within the boundaries of the law,"
Auldershot, who was still standing, said.

"The accused shall be bound," Prospro confirmed from his
seated position.

Harry gave Erskine a pleading look, but the man shook his head and
Harry's stomach twisted as he saw Snape being strapped down in the
horrible chair.

Harry was almost relieved Snape's face relaxed once he was
immobile; before, while the Potions Master was being tied, Harry had
seen that panic-horror in the black eyes. The same horror he had seen
when they had tried doing the ritual for the first time: Harry had
feared Snape would try to fight the Aurors, accidentally provoking
them into harming or even killing the Potions Master. But to Harry's
eternal relief nothing of that kind happened and Snape was now
sitting absolutely still on the chair, the eyes in the pale face
pointing forward to the proceedings.

Harry's own attention also turned to what was being said. The
strategy they had decided on yesterday, when it turned out someone
was going to have to get that infernal licence, was for Erskine to
stall for as long as he could. And that was exactly what happened
next.

Erskine was a great speaker and he spoke of the law and of
fighting Evil and he talked about Harry as the Boy Who Lived to kill
a Dark Lord - making Harry cringe - and how a single brave Death
Eater had turned his back on the Darkness and had helped the Light
prevail. He made it a long and impassioned plea and it seemed to
please the warlocks because even Auldershot had sat down to listen to
the story, without interrupting or objecting to it once.

While Erskine talked Harry looked about for Hermione - not really
expecting her to be there yet, but getting anxious nonetheless - then
looked at his pocket watch - the one he had found in the Potter Vault
that he inherited on his coming of age; it read 10:35.

Erskine moved his story on to the prelude to Dumbledore's death.
Telling the Warlock audience about the Cursed Ring and how Snape had
tried to stop the Curse from spreading. He talked of the loyalty that
Snape had shown before then and talked at length about Snape's good
work as a school teacher and as a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

When Harry's watch read 10:56 and Hermione still wasn't there and
Erskine gave him a questioning look while still talking, Harry was
forced to shrug his shoulders in a gesture of 'I don't know what's
keeping her either.' Auldershot unfortunately must have picked up
on the silent exchange, because he interrupted Erskine's speech and
demanded, "Sir, these are very entertaining words, but can you
offer proof for any of this?"

Harry and Erskine exchanged a look. Then Erskine grasped the side
of his cloak and took a long theatrical stroll around the open floor
space, circling the horrible chair with its silent occupant. He came
to a stop next to the chair and indicated Snape with his hand. "I
certainly can, but first we must hear about the character of the
accused," he said. "And for this reason I call Harry Potter
as the first witness." The man's hand now indicated Harry.

Harry cringed; they had discussed this strategy as a last resort
stalling technique. The idea was to get Harry on the stand and then
talk about all of his exploits in the hope that the audience - as
Erskine had called the Wizengamot's warlocks - would be all too
interested in whatever the Boy Who Lived would have to say. Harry,
when this strategy had first been suggested, had been skeptical, but
now that he had seen the audience's riveted attention at Erskine's
tale, Harry was convinced it would work, distasteful or not.

"Harry James Potter is called to the stand," the
overhead Voice boomed.

He got up and took his own slow turn around the room - anything to
buy time - before stopping next to Erskine, where a fancy wooden
lectern had magically appeared.

Harry had no notes to put on the ornately carved stand, but as if
to give himself strength he put his hand on the dark worn wood.

"The witness will take the oath," the Chief Warlock
said. One of the Aurors that had come in with Snape stepped up to
Harry and took out his wand.

"Raise your right hand, son," Erskine said. Harry took
his hand off the lectern and raised it next to his head, palm facing
forward.

"Repeat after me: I, Harry James Potter," the Chief
Warlock began. Harry dutifully repeated it, watching a purple light
start to glow on the end of the Auror's wand.

"Shall speak the truth," the man continued. Harry
repeated it.

"On pain of the loss of my magic," the Chief Warlock
concluded. Harry swallowed down his nerves and repeated it, keeping
his eyes on the growing purple spell light all the while. Then the
Auror swished his wand back and was about to cast when the Councillor
side door opened and Hermione stepped in, followed closely by
McGonagall and Dean Thomas. Under Hermione's arm was a large thin
brown paper wrapped package: the portrait.

Harry immediately stepped out of the firing line of the oath
spell; he really didn't want to have to tell the truth about anything
in this court room! He sent a silent prayer of thanks up to whoever
was up there for the timely intervention.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" Erskine said, sounding as relieved
as Harry felt. The Councillor turned back to the warlocks and
announced, "I call Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,
former Headmaster of Hogwarts, to the stand!"

Next came the expected kerfuffle of can't call a dead man
and then portraits can't testify and aren't allowed into the
Ministry building to begin with; the first was countered with
argumentation and Law precedent - ghosts had been called as witnesses
before - and the second with precedent and paperwork - portraits had
been validated as witnesses before, and Hermione had the right papers
to allow this portrait passage into the building.

Harry let the whole thing just happen around him, as Snape
appeared to be doing; the man didn't seem to think the scene worthy
of looking at it and continued to stare stubbornly straight ahead.
Good for you, Harry thought.

Harry sat back on the lowest tier bench and listened to portrait
Albus' story. It was a story Harry had heard quite a few times now,
this version embellished with even more praises sung about Snape's
long-time loyalty to the Headmaster. It was quite boring really. But
it paved the way to introducing the bottled memory testimony that
Harry was more than a bit curious about.

Portrait Albus had told them where to find the bottled memories
that Wednesday afternoon, but it had taken the trio until this
morning to actually get their hands on the box, since the hiding
place had been magically secured by Dumbledore. Now, if they had just
been able to meet with Snape, they could have obtained his permission
to access the strong box; all it would have taken was the Potions
Master's word, as Dumbledore had built that in as a safety. But as
they couldn't get to Snape, they'd been forced to break into the box,
using just plain ol' magical force. Harry's legs still wobbled a bit
from the power drain and from the loss of a night's sleep.

So this morning about nine-ish, Erskine had viewed the memories,
which took a full twenty-eight minutes, leaving Harry without the
opportunity to satisfy his own curiously. He'd had just have to make
do with Erskine's assurance that the memories would help the case. It
was altogether rather nerve-wracking.

"The bottled memories are accepted into evidence," the
voice of the Chief Warlock boomed.

Harry shot up from his seat and carefully lifted the Pensieve off
its stand. He walked with it to stand next to Erskine and promptly
another, more ornate, stand appeared, on which he placed it. The
stand seemed to grow around the large stone bowl, three tendril-like
climbing vines shooting straight up for some three feet before coming
together right over the centre of the shimmering water. The three
shoots curled about each other for a moment and then Harry could see
the start of a flower bud growing in a point where all three touched.
The bud grew quickly into a sizable white flower with large
scoop-like petals. The flower opened and Harry could see a completely
clear crystal sit in the heart of the flower, about the size of an
egg.

At a nod from Erskine, Harry pulled out the large bottle with
memories from his magically protected robe pocket, uncorked it and
spilled out the entire contents into the magical water. He watched it
swirl for a moment before he felt a hand on his arm and looked over
at Erskine, who beckoned him to come sit down with him.

Harry sat down and looked to where Erskine - and everybody else,
it seemed - had his eyes pointed to: the crystal. After a moment of
just admiring the thing - it was quite beautiful in a cold, expensive
sort of way - Harry could see a tiny mist effect within the crystal.
Then it grew and the crystal became opaque. Then the mist expanded to
swallow the outline of the crystal and then that of the flower and
the point where the shoots had met. Then it expanded upward to form a
tight mist-ball, some ten feet across. Harry scooted back in his seat
at the sudden movement, tilting his head back so he could keep all of
it in his line of sight. He gripped his wand in his pocket, just in
case the mist decided to encompass him and all of them.

But the mist stopped growing and instead it turned grey like a
rain cloud just before it started raining. Then it shimmered and a
scene formed. It showed the Headmaster as he sat in one of his chintz
chairs, with one of the walls full of knick-knacks from his office
behind him, the fire in the wall sconces dancing merrily. The man had
his eyes closed and his head was resting against the head rest; he
looked terrible.

When Pensieve Dumbledore's eyes opened, Harry experienced a slight
vertigo as the scene shifted to include the space on the floor to the
right of the chintz chair. There on his knees sat Snape, who was
carefully bathing the Headmaster's black hand in a basin full of
yellow liquid that stood on a stand between them. The yellow liquid
turned black with three washes. Snape retrieved his wand from the
floor, where it had been obscured from Harry's view by a large open
mahogany box that stood open and was filled with bottles. Also on the
floor lay a tray with instruments and rolled-up bandages.

Pensieve Snape waved his wand over the basin and said, "Tersus
Malum," white spell light hitting the hand. He waved the wand
again saying, "Evanesco" and the black liquid vanished. He
cast Aguamenti to refill the basin. He then put down the wand and
took out a bottle from the box. He poured a good spoon's worth into
the water in the bowl and started washing again. The liquid turned
black very quickly. The ornate clock on the wall behind them read
12:55 and a magical hand with Dumbledore's smiling face on it pointed
to 'In Deathly Peril'. The magical calendar on the wall had July 1996
open, with a gold border marker around the date of the 4th.

The scene wobbled for a moment and Harry didn't notice any
significant change to the scene - the Headmaster still looked bad,
Snape still sat and bathed the black hand - until he looked at the
clock; it read 5:50 and the magical hand had moved the tiniest bit
away from 'In Deathly Peril' towards 'In Serious Danger'. The only
other thing that was different was that Harry felt Snape was
clenching his teeth more in effort.

The scene shifted again. This time Snape was not bathing the hand
anymore. He sat with his head down and his hands, balled into fists,
lay in his lap. His shoulders hitched almost imperceptibly. The clock
read 9:43 and the hand still pointed closer to 'Deathly Peril' than
'In Serious Danger' but it was further away from 'Deathly Peril' than
it had been hours earlier. Pensieve Dumbledore lifted his hand from
the empty basin, holding it closer to his face for inspection. It was
blackened all the way past his wrist, the skin - which would not have
been smooth on the old man even if not cursed - was wrinkled like
burnt parchment and Harry felt his stomach lunge when he realized
that the ring finger didn't have quite the right bends a healthy
finger should have had. Funny how I never noticed that in sixth
year, he thought.

The shaking of Snape's shoulders had stopped, but Harry could hear
the tears in the man's voice as he said, "I'm sorry, I can't
stop the curse." Snape lifted his head to look up at the
Headmaster, revealing his red but dry eyes. The black orbs looked
hollow.

"I have halted it for now, but continued treatment is
needed," the Potions Master said. At this the Headmaster nodded
and reached out with his right hand to touch Snape's shoulder briefly
before getting up from the chair and stepping out of the scene
without a word.

Snape looked down for a long moment, his greasy hair obscuring
Harry's view of the hook-nosed profile. Then the man started cleaning
up the equipment and the scene changed again.

Again the chintz chair came into view, with the Headmaster
reclining in it. The calendar read Monday 19th of August, 1996. The
clock read 3:15. Dumbledore's magical hand read a little closer to
'In Deathly Peril'. A beam of sunlight fell on the little table next
to the chair that held a one-person tea set with a full plate of rich
tea biscuits.

Then the sunlight was blocked and Snape stepped into the scene,
his outer cloak flapping. He immediately dropped to his knees in the
position he had held in the other scenes while he pulled off his
cloak, casting it aside. He placed the box that he had been carrying
over one shoulder by a wide leather strap on the floor and while he
opened the lid and took the top tray out, the Headmaster had opened
his eyes and proceeded to use his wand to banish the tea set and
conjure a bowl in its place.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I have very little time today," Snape
spoke, all the while setting up the workstation and starting the
cleaning process again. After the first washing he spelled 'Tersus
Malum' and set up a clean potion to work with.

"Pettigrew fell for spiked tea and should be asleep for some
hours, but I dare not stay too long lest someone is sent to check on
us," the Potions Master said, keeping his eyes firmly on his
work. Dumbledore nodded gravely and while Harry couldn't be sure
Snape had even seen the gesture, the man continued reporting,
"Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange came to visit
yesterday." At this Snape glanced up at the Headmaster, maybe to
gauge the man's reaction. Dumbledore merely nodded again. Snape cast
his eyes back to his work. He cast 'Tersus Malum' and renewed the
bath. The water that had come off the Headmaster's hand was still jet
black.

"Narcissa was worried about her son. Apparently the Dark Lord
has given him a task that Narcissa believes he won't be able to
accomplish. She," here he hesitated and looked up to Dumbledore
again, his glance questioning. "She made me take an Unbreakable
Vow that I'd help him or, if Draco finds himself unable to perform,
to finish the task." He cast again, refreshed the bath and
started the next cleansing.

"I think," he hesitated again, sloshing more potion bath
over the black hand. "I think I made a grave error. Not that I
could have gotten out of it without revealing my true loyalties, but
I think that Draco has been ordered to do something dire."

"I think I have some idea of what it is," the
Headmaster's baritone sounded. Snape looked up expectantly. "And
that is one of the reasons I'm going to make this next request of
you," he continued. Snape stopped his ministrations and gave the
Headmaster what Harry in his mind had always called his 'Do tell'
look.

Dumbledore, without letting his hand leave the bath, sat forward
in the stuffed chair and turned to the still kneeling Potions Master.
"I want you, when the time comes, to free me from this
suffering, permanently."

Harry was watching breathlessly as all the colour drained from
Snape's face. "No!" the man yelled, jumping up from his
kneeling position, almost upsetting the low table with the full basin
on top as he went. The Headmaster Vanished both bowl and contents
before the bowl had stopped moving, as Snape turned his back on the
scene and walked away, heading out of the scene.

Harry again experienced vertigo as the view of the scene widened
to include Snape, who now stood at the sunny widow, his back turned
to the Headmaster.

"Severus," Dumbledore ventured.

"No," came from Snape. "I refuse. Don't ask it of
me. I cannot. I will not." he said with finality. The
Headmaster looked at his Potions Master's back sadly and sighed.

Unexpectedly the scene shifted again, this time showing the chintz
chair at night again. Date: Thursday, September 19th Time: 10:05. The
magical hand was pretty much where it was in the scene before. The
Headmaster was sitting back in the chair while Snape carefully
Spelled and bathed the black hand. Four empty potion bottles lay
strewn about the carpet around the Potions Master's knees.

"Severus, I must ask this of you," the Headmaster said.
Snape didn't look up from his work and gave a clipped "No"
as a rejoinder.

The Headmaster sighed. "I have no wish to see this curse run
its course," he said.

"No," Snape repeated firmly.

"Would you see me consumed by this," the Headmaster
seemed to look for the right word, "this canker?!" Snape's
head sank a little but he said nothing.

"Is it not my right to die with some dignity and possibly
make my death count?" Dumbledore asked. Snape's head sank
another inch, but again he remained silent as he bathed the hand
again.

Snape cast the spell and refreshed the bath and was still adding
the spoonful of yellow potion to it when the Headmaster spoke again.
"What I ask is necessary; you know that as well as I do."

The loud crash of the half full potion bottle hitting the wall and
exploding into a thousand yellow-tinged shards shocked Harry so hard
that he jumped in his seat. Once he could refocus on the Pensieve
scene, he saw Snape had doubled over and his large hands were hiding
his face as his shoulders shook. Dumbledore leaned over and put his
good hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said.

The scene shifted again, the date moving up about a month. Snape
sat on his knees again, looking up at Dumbledore sitting in the
chair. Six empty bottles sat on the ground and the empty bowl lay
discarded next to them. The Headmaster was drying his afflicted hand
carefully on a towel and Snape had apparently abandoned protocol,
because he had shucked his black coat and was sitting in his shirt
sleeves. He looked upset. Harry couldn't help but feel the same.

"Sir," Snape started, "Ask me anything, anything
but that!" he pleaded and Harry felt a stab of pain go
through his own heart, at the memory of Dumbledore's own pleading of
'No... not that, not that, I'll do anything!' in that infernal
cave that very last night.

Pensieve Dumbledore gave a sad smile, and looking at the
distraught Potions Master he said, "Severus, I'm sorry; there is
no other choice."

Just before the scene shifted again, Harry could see Snape curl in
on himself and double over, the curtain of his greasy hair touching
the carpet, as he could hear the man's long-drawn-out wail.

The scene reformed and it was again a month or so later. But this
time both the Headmaster and Snape were on their knees, facing each
other and holding each other's right hand by the wrist, Roman style.
Over the point of contact Fawkes hovered, hanging in midair.

"Do you swear?" the Headmaster asked.

"I do," Snape answered, sounding breathless.

"You will kill me when I request it?" Dumbledore asked
and Harry could see the man's watery blue gaze boring into Snape's
dark orbs. Above them Fawkes spread his wings as if in benediction.

"I will," Snape answered, and Harry could see his chest
heave with the deep breaths the man was gulping.

"Will you vow to use the Killing Curse?" was the next
question and Harry could see the Potions Master's eyes widen as if in
surprise; the man started to pull on their clasped hands, breathing
so hard he looked close to hyperventilating.

Snape had obviously not expected that, Harry thought to
himself. He already knew that Snape would be using the Killing Curse
on Dumbledore, but at this moment in time it looked like the man
might refuse to promise that.

Snape was almost imperceptibly shaking his head as the Headmaster
repeated himself with some force and a lot of impatience, "Will
you vow to use the Killing Curse?"

For a very long moment neither Snape nor Dumbledore moved,
maintaining the intense look in each other's eyes, then Snape's eyes
dropped and his shoulders sagged as he said, "I will."

Above them Fawkes flapped his wings and started trilling as an
Orange Spell Ball built up around Snape and Dumbledore's clasped
hands. It swelled to about the size of a Quaffle and then exploded;
the vow was sealed and the scene faded, leaving the white mist ball
hanging over the Pensieve.

Harry exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as
the mist ball reduced itself and retreated back into the crystal. The
white flower then closed around the crystal and wilted. The withered
flower fell from the branch just as the shoots also withered and
died, raining down in ash that disappeared altogether, before it
could touch the Pensieve's shimmering surface.

In only a short few moments the Pensieve stood unfettered on the
ornate stand and Harry felt Erskine's elbow prod him for action.
Harry needed a moment to figure out what to do but then remembered
and got off his seat and stepped over to the Pensieve. There he used
his wand to retrieve the memories and transfer them safely back into
the bottle, which subsequently went back into his pocket. He then
lifted the Pensieve, feeling the stand disappear from underneath, and
walked to the side of the open space, where another stand appeared.
He carefully placed the stone bowl down and returned to his seat.

He sat back as Erskine got up and moved to the centre of the room.
The man raised both arms and spoke, "As you all just witnessed,
the late Headmaster ordered his own death by Killing Curse, enforcing
poor Mr. Snape's compliance with the use of an Unbreakable Vow. I
hereby charge the Court to absolve the accused of all responsibility
of the act and of the means by which it was accomplished." With
that Erskine turned around and strode back to his seat.

Harry's heart beat all the way up in his throat, as he tried to
make out words from the murmur that went through the group of
warlocks. He glanced over at Snape, who was, of course, still chained
to his chair, but at this angle Harry could only see the lank hair
hiding the side of the face from him.

After five very tense minutes Harry was surprised that Auldershot
stood up to speak and not the Chief Warlock.

"We are agreed that this testimony has merit,"
Auldershot said. "However, it does not show innocence of the
crime of being a Death Eater."

Harry sat back stunned. Being a Death Eater was a crime?
Harry hadn't known that. He knew some Death Eaters had committed some
serious bad acts and those bad acts were most often also crimes. But
just being one being a crime, that was news to him. Harry
looked at Erskine who frowned in return.

Harry followed the Councillor with his eyes as the man stood up
and stepped forward. "Since when is being a Death Eater a
crime?" Erskine boomed out the question.

"Since last Tuesday," Auldershot said, picking up a
document, with a very official red ribbon hanging off it, from his
table and offering it up the Erskine below.

Erskine motioned Harry to go get it, which Harry did swiftly,
handing it off to Erskine, who promptly fished out his reading
glasses from his robe pocket and proceeded to read it.

In the pre-trial strategy meetings, Erskine had asked Harry to
assist him instead of Felicity, and had Felicity explain exactly what
Harry's job would entail. Erskine explained his choice of Harry as
his assistant; it would put Harry - and his fame - firmly at the
disposal of Snape's defence. It would be more valuable than Harry
just appearing as a character witness.

On his quick trip back and forth, Harry had tried to get a glimpse
of Snape. The man was still sitting absolutely still, exercising that
iron control of his. The face was possibly a little paler than
before, but Harry couldn't be sure. The eyes seemed to be looking a
little less straight ahead, but more to the ground, but again Harry
could not be sure; he just didn't get a good enough look. He had seen
the chest move in breathing, so that was at least something.

Harry was sitting at the edge of his seat, biting his lip as
Erskine finally put the parchment down and pulled the glasses off his
nose.

"Well, that's a convenient piece of legislation,"
Erskine said just loud enough for Harry to hear but not the warlocks
across the room.

"You were saying?" Auldershot asked.

Erskine got back to his feet, still holding the parchment by one
of its corners. He moved to the middle of the room, waved the
parchment around and said, "In here it says that a Death Eater
may be identified as such by his Dark Mark." Erskine consulted
the parchment before adding, "'Consisting of: a stationary skull
and moving serpent outlined in a black magical inked tattoo, located
on the left lower arm.'"

Harry's heart shot up in his throat. No! That was not part of
the strategy they had devised, he thought. The trio had informed
Erskine that the Dark Mark was no longer on Snape's arm, but they had
not told him that another Mark was now in its place. Oh no,
Erskine was planning to show them Snape's arm! He must be stopped!
Harry was sure showing the new Red Hand Mark that currently sat
on his former teacher's arm was a Very Bad Idea!

But like a speeding train on its way to a deadly collision,
Erskine spoke, "I declare that Mr. Snape bears no such Mark."
The Councillor stepped up to Snape's left side and Harry ran up after
him.

"I demand that Snape be unbound, so this matter can be laid
to rest once and for all!" Erskine proclaimed.

Harry had just reached Snape when he heard Chief Warlock Prospro
declare, "Request granted." He saw the chains slither off
the still figure of the Potions Master and when they had loosened
enough Harry reacted instinctively when Snape just pitched forward
and off the chair; he slid under the man's head and shoulders to
prevent a collision of the man's head with the stone floor.

With the move Harry himself ended up flat on his back, bumping his
elbows, shoulder blades and the back of his head on the cold floor
quite hard. But he wasn't too worried about that as his palm had
accidentally brushed Snape's forehead while going down; the skin was
hot, so hot almost as if it was on fire. "Oh my god, somebody
help! He's burning up!" Harry yelped.

oqpodboqpo

====================

TBC

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All Beneath the Full Moon [COMPLETE]