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Shadows of an evil past	By : Werecat Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 946 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
CHAPTER 8: Crossroads

The Hanged Man: seeing things from a new and different perspective.

In her secluded cell, Jane was calm. She had been staring at the empty space before her for the past few hours, her mind wondering in strange pathways known only to her. From time to time she'd smile and mumble something to herself and her eyes would acquire a wondrous glow. Then she would raise a thin hand and caress something only she could see. And then her face would go blank again, and stare at the void before her eyes.

She never showed any sign she was aware of her visitor.

Albus Dumbledore was one of the few people who had been notified when Jane had been found shaking from shock and exposure in early September. And perhaps he had been the only person in the Wizarding World who knew her real identity. He had kept the secret to himself, but now he had begun to regret his decision. He had believed that the woman's past had finally catch up with her, and she was now confined in a worse prison than Azkaban. But when he learned of the second incident, he realised there were greater forces at work in this case.

He walked closer to the woman, and took her bony hand in his. The skin was cold and moist, and Albus felt as if he was holding a corpse's hand. Again, she showed no signs of recognition. She kept staring the wall behind him. But he remembered this woman well. She had once been talented, gifted with a sharp mind and keen intellect. Unfortunately, she had been equipped with a cruel heart as well. There was a time, during her senior year, that the Headmaster felt that her cold soul could be softened by love, but his hopes were shuttered soon after she graduated. Gently, he passed his hands through her dirty and prematurely greying hair, the same hair that had been once raven black and had stolen the hearts of several of her fellow students.

Dumbledore knew he would keep her secret. He would never stand in the way of the Auror who was investigating the case, but he knew too well that certain secrets are better left buried. This woman had been dead for more than a decade for the wizarding world. She had no family to miss her and Severus had accepted her death long ago. A 'resurrection' would only bring misery to a lot of good people.

Sighing, the old wizard stood up and turned to leave. But he couldn't help thinking that sometimes the Fates have a strange sense of justice.

Fair, but strange non-the-less.

~*~

The Hanged Man: enlightenment, a unique viewpoint or a crossroads.

Cassandra crossed the gates of St. Mungo's Hospital half an hour after Dumbledore had left. She had been notified early on Saturday morning that her request to question Jane had been accepted. But with a bad headache from Friday's alcohol, she decided to postpone the visit for Sunday.

And now she was here, she found herself having doubts of what she was about to do.

Knowing there was a medi-wizard right outside, should anything go wrong, she braced herself for the task. Gently, she removed the dirty sweater Jane had on, leaving her just with an equally dirty undershirt. The woman complied obediently with her touch, showing no signs of feeling the cold or her hands. Cassandra stood back and inspected the mark on her chest. For a moment she traced it with her eyes, following the pattern of the skull and snake on the woman's skin. Drawing a deep breath, she reached out to touch it.

For a moment there was nothing. And then a million images flooded her head, to many to keep them all clear. But she saw the man in the mask again, a man with dark eyes. He was holding a razor in his hand and he was laughing softly. The sound alone made her shiver, a feeling that turned to complete terror when she realised that the blood on the blade was hers. As he turned to look at him, she caught a glimpse of his throat and chest. His shirt was slightly open and she saw another mark on his sternum, a small star-shaped birthmark. The vision lasted only a minute and then vanished. And no more visions came, just feelings. Feelings of fear and pain, the kind of pain that comes with the whip and blade. Of lust mingled with terror, enhanced by iron chains and the smell of burning flesh, of cold stone wall and damp ground. And last, but not least, there was despair.

Cassandra broke the connection before that last overwhelming feeling reached her heart. She feared that if such a thing happened, she'd end up in a nearby cell, lost in her mind to spare herself the agonising feeling of complete despair. She knew beyond doubt she would suffer from nightmares for the following nights. But she had a new lead: the birthmark on the man's upper chest.

Perhaps the Fates were smiling upon her, at last.

~*~

The Hanged Man: a testing period.

Back in the Hogwarts grounds, Severus Snape was trying to get some sleep. But the much-desired rest didn't come. His mind kept drifting away, leading him through memories he had no wish to remember. For some reason, he recalled of his senior year tonight, and the years of terror that followed. Sighing, he sat up and walked to his bathroom. He washed his face with cold water and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He hardly recognised the man staring him back. In his mind tonight, he still was a teenager and not this aged man with the haunted eyes and the lines on the forehead. He turned his gaze away from the stranger in the mirror and returned to his bed. He desperately needed a good rest to endure the Auror's questioning the following morning.

Ah, the Auror... If it hadn't been for the Headmaster's polite but definite orders, he'd kept away from her. But obviously Dumbledore had been notified of his lack of co-operation during her last visit.pe wpe wouldn't be surprised if Hooch had been somehow involved in this. And again, he reminded himself, his approach at the 'Burning Skull' on Friday night was probably not what Albus had in mind. But somehow that woman had caught his interest. Perhaps it was her eyes, the familiar steel glow that could intimidate another with the least of effort. Perhaps it was the way she gave in to her small vices, her way of utter surrender to the temptations of control and power. Probably she wasn't even aware of this, but he had seen the same passion much to often, usually among his former allies.

Defeated, he sat up and reached for a sleeping draught. He needed a clear mind tomorrow and this was the only way to achieve this. He emptied the vial down his throat, wondering which one of the Fates had been playing a joke on him for the last decade or so.

Probably all three of them.
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- 8
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Shadows of an evil past