Chapter 7: Seas of Agony



For Severus Snape, the days and weeks that followed passed in a hazy blur of fever-dreams, torture and pain, and ever more torture, more pain, interrupted only by hours of deep unconsciousness. Down in the dungeons of some unknown place he had lost all track of time, was merely living in a horrible and never-changing present where past and future had lost their meaning. All was essentially the same. Torture and pain. Only the torturers changed. But what difference did it make whether it was Crabbe or Goyle kicking and beating him, Lestrange or Malfoy wielding the wand that inflicted the wounds? The pain had become an almost uniform sensation by now, making it hard to tell where it originated from – from the broken bones, or the many mottled bruises, burn marks or deep seeping cuts that covered every inch of his body.

Some things were so bizarre he wasn't sure they had happened at all. Had Dolores Umbridge really made him carve 'I shall not betray my Master' into his flesh with her horrible quill?

Pettigrew had forced unicorn blood down his throat repeatedly, becoming increasingly mad as his stomach had rebelled and thrown up most of the disgusting substance. In his fury the rat had grabbed his jaw with his silver hand and forced his mouth shut, almost suffocating him in the process. And breaking his jaw.

Sometimes the Dark Lord had come to watch. But apparently he had soon tired of his plaything, as had most of his minions. Torture just wasn't that much fun when the victim's reactions were mostly limited to soft moans and whimpers because he was too weak to scream in his agony. And he would pass out all too quickly. Crabbe and Goyle didn't mind, however. They were his most faithful companions. Astonishingly enough, he was still in one piece, or almost one piece. And he hadn't altogether lost his mind, yet. At least he still knew who he was.

There hadn't been any visitors down in the dungeons for quite a while now, not even the rat. Had they finally tired of the game? Even the two brutes? Had they decided to let him rot alone in his cell and die at last? It couldn't be long now. A few more days, probably hours only, and the effect of the unicorn blood would wear off. As he lay on the hard stone floor, beaten and mangled and bleeding, his sick lungs desperately struggling for air, he could almost feel death mercifully embrace him in dark and comforting folds of eternal oblivion. Only a short way to go now. If they only let him ...

They didn't. The screeching of the rusty door pulled him out of his semi-conscious state. Another hope shattered. Was he condemned to never-ending agony like the immortal Prometheus, who had to suffer eternally for betraying his Gods?

"Severus, how are you doing today, dear child?" It was the Dark Lord, his voice once again dripping with mock-concern. Severus had long since ceased to answer those questions since speaking was too painful for his sore throat and broken jaw. They would kick him for not replying, but they would do so anyway. Or use the Cruciatus. Or some other torturing spell. He should know them all by heart now ...

Only this time the usual punishment did not come.

"I have wasted more than enough of my precious time with you, traitor," Voldemort complained instead. "Not only have you deeply disappointed me as a Death Eater, but you have also proven absolutely worthless both as a source of information and as a toy. So, what to do with you? I could let you rot in your cell until there is nothing left but bleached bones. But I'm not inhumane, as I already pointed out. I'll let you live. I'll even return you to your beloved Headmaster so he can enjoy your company once more – after some special farewell-treatment."

Special farewell-treatment. The words hung in the air loaded with doom. But there was no time to contemplate the implications for long as his head was jerked up in a death-grip and another dose of unicorn blood was forced down his throat. By now, even his stomach was too tired to try more than a few weak and futile contractions.


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Everybody had been invited to witness his final punishment. The hall-like room was already crowded with Death Eaters when he was slammed to the ground in the center of it.

"Time to say good-bye to a dear friend," Voldemort announced as his minions had silently formed the usual circle and paid their reverence. "But not without a special surprise as a reward for his exceedingly faithful service. Raise your wands, my Death Eaters." At a signal from Pettigrew, they all pointed their wands at the prone figure in the middle of the circle.

"CRUCIO!"

A good score of curses hit Severus square in the chest simultaneously, pinning him to the ground with the rip-breaking force of a tsunami, compressing his lungs to minute dots impossible to fill with air. Every cell, every molecule in his body was ripped apart, set on fire, shattered in a supernova of pain. He screamed, screamed until there was no voice left, drowned in an ocean of agony, his sanity, his self dissolving, becoming one with the excruciating pain. Then, he was falling deeper and deeper into the darkest abyss, the blackest void, cold and empty as the universe.

When the assembly of Death Eaters finally lifted the curse, Severus lay motionless, hardly breathing, blood trickling from his ears and mouth and forming pools of scarlet on the dusty floor.

"Behold the traitor!" shouted Voldemort once again. Minutes of silence. Then, the Dark Lord motioned to Pettigrew, who flung an old blanket over the comatose ex-Death Eater, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out into the dark November night. Tightly holding to the limp body, he Disapparated.

Another present for Albus Dumbledore by courtesy of his Master. Wormtail chuckled as he Apparated in front of the great wrought-iron gates with the winged boar statues, and dropped his lifeless burden on the long sloping drive leading up to the sleeping castle. The silence was profound.

Should he stay here in his Animagus form to watch what would happen? Somebody was bound to find the macabre bundle that was the Hogwarts Potions master in the morning. That big oaf of a gamekeeper with his drooling dog, most probably. In his mind's eye he could almost see the half-giant break into tears at the ghastly sight. Yes, he would hide in the bushes and wait. The Master would surely appreciate a detailed description. Too bad that there were so many cats in the castle. He slightly shuddered at the thought of the ugly red beast that had almost killed him when he was the 'pet' of Ronald Weasley. If not for the cats, he could have sneaked into the building to monitor the over-all reaction of students and staff, too. Would have been a lot of fun ...

Just as Wormtail prepared to transform, he heard an angry 'meow' in the immediate vicinity. Damn it! One of those four-legged monsters. Had the cat sensed his presence? If it was Mrs Norris, she was likely to report the stranger right to her master, the abominable Filch. Or was it McGonagall in her Animagus form? Merlin forbid! Better to Disapparate straight away. No more fun tonight. A pity.

With an angry sigh of disappointment followed by a soft 'pop' the balding wizard disappeared, leaving the motionless body of Severus Snape behind.



TBC