Legacy of the Past

Ruta didn’t follow the first impulse that told her to walk right over to Stephen Seeker’s cottage and to confront him with her brand new knowledge. She was shaken enough not to know what to say to him anyway; she had to sort her thoughts, to regain her composure first.

Severus Snape.

The Nemesis of her cousin’s younger days. The man Remus had always spoken of with an odd mixture of silent anger and guilt. The man who brewed the Wolfsbane Potion for her cousin and then with cold deliberateness revealed the truth about the cruel curse in his blood. The man who had – as a boy – been the target of the merciless mobbing from Remus’ friends, with him doing close to nothing to stop them.

Remus left his position as a teacher and was hardly able to find a decent job again. Ruta remembered only too well how upset she had been, watching him getting more tired and haggard whenever she saw him after his precipitous departure from Hogwarts in 1994. But Remus hadn't held Snape to blame. I could have kept James and Sirius from harrying Severus all those years ago, he had told her when they met for the last time, shortly before the final battle against the Dark Lord. But I never did. I will never know if things could have been different with a little more courage and modesty from my side.

In the light of her newest information it felt decidedly strange to realize that she and the man who called himself Stephen Seeker had actually studied in Hogwarts at the same time, at least for the span of five years. Ruta had been aware of the ongoing battle between the older boys, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, only from a distance. Remus had adamantly barred her from taking his part, from getting involved in this dirty guerrilla warfare. You are here to learn, little one, he said to her after she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, torn between pride and the bitter disappointment that she couldn’t share her cousin’s house. Things are difficult enough as it is. So far no one knows what I am, and I’m afraid that you might get hurt, too, as soon as the wrong people find out about the truth. The Slytherins... well, lets just say that there are people who would have no qualms about trampling you down, too, if you got under their feet.

She had accepted his wish, keeping out of the way and concentrating on her studies - which had been easy, for she loved to learn, and Hogwarts was a world full of new, fascinating lore and knowledge. And the dark times beyond the castle walls offered enough menace to keep her from any desire to attract attention. She had trusted in the hope that Remus was right, and kept her head down, and so Snape had been nothing more than a pale, slightly menacing shadow, hidden in the Slytherin dungeons, a dubious figure she had trained herself to avoid. And this figure, this distant shadow, had nothing to do with the man she knew now, the man she had discovered within these last few weeks… that mysterious stranger who had found words of comfort and unexpected praise about the “faithful werewolf”:

After all I know about Remus Lupin, he was a true friend and an honorable man.

Ruta sat beside her bedroom window, wrapped in a shawl and waiting for the sun to rise. Her eyes were burning, but she was unable to sleep, thoughts milling in her head like a crazy maelstrom. How did the pieces of the jigsaw she already knew fit into the bigger image?

Severus Snape lay buried on the grounds of Hogwarts, close to the legendary Headmaster’s tomb – side by side with the man he had killed himself with an Unforgivable Curse, following Albus Dumbledore’s own plan. But if she was right… if the medal spoke the truth and had been stolen from the house of its righteous owner, the grave of the former Potions Master was empty. If she was right, the most contradictory hero of the long underground fight against the Dark Lord was right now hiding in a tiny Muggle village in the Lake District.

She got up and went over to her bed; on a shelf she kept a few books meant to serve as an easy bedtime reading (and those that didn’t fit anywhere within her well thought out system of order). Among them was one book an old school mate had sent her a free copy of a few years ago. For the sake of the good old times, Vicky Stone – who worked in the editorial staff of the Daily Prophet now - had told her in the note that came with the package. Since in her first year as a Ravenclaw Ruta had steadfastly refused to let Vicky “borrow” her homework in Herbology, there had been a silent but intense hostility between them. And to gift her with the latest dubious creation by Rita Skeeter was a rather perfidious kind of late revenge. It had been Rita Skeeter who in this special book came up with the soppy label “faithful werewolf” for Remus, and only Ruta’s general dislike of vandalism kept her from burning it on the spot after having flipped through the pages.

The glossy cover of Harry Potter – The True Story Of The Boy Who Lived showed the title in boastful golden letters, and below the title Teddy’s godfather, his face magically changing from the chubby cheeks of an eleven-year-old first year to the clearly defined features of a grown-up man. The green eyes behind his glasses were wary and a little annoyed. Harry had once told her that he’d actually agreed to help Rita with her book to keep her as close to the truth as possible, he'd said with a wry grin, and because it would have been much worse without my participation.

Ruta skipped the first part of the book and found a dozen pages in the middle that were full of photos – one of Harry Potter’s parents, waving happily from a lawn in front of their house in Godric’s Hollow, Baby Harry on Lily’s arm, showing a toothless smile. She saw a photograph of Albus Dumbledore, peering over his small, rectangular glasses, and another one of the Marauders. There they stood, side by side at the edge of the Hogwarts lake – James and Sirius, surrounded by an air of strong, confident youth, and Remus, the expression of his face speaking of a faint surprise and an overwhelming thankfulness that he actually should be included in a group of real friends.

Ruta refused to take in the sight of the fourth Marauder. Peter Pettigrew was dead anyway… they all were.

She turned the page and saw a reproduction of the front page from the May 31st, 1998 edition of the Daily Prophet. There was Harry again, his face grim and determined, standing in a room that Ruta immediately recognized as the Headmaster’s office in Hogwarts. “HARRY POTTER SAYS: SEVERUS SNAPE WAS A HERO!” the headline proclaimed, but Ruta’s full attention was fixed on the portrait hanging above Harry’s head. It showed the tall figure of a man, clad in a black cloak with the silver and green emblem of Slytherin on his shoulder. His arms were folded in front of his chest, and dark eyes under black brows stared past the observer with an expression of sternness and faint contempt.

His hair was longer back then, Ruta thought, but he still likes to wear black. And the face…

That man was younger, but at the same time - strangely enough - he seemed to be older. The need for absolute secrecy, the insanely dangerous life as a double agent, faithful to Dumbledore and at the same time a Death Eater, close to the Dark Lord, had etched deep crinkles into his brow. Sharply engraved lines ran down from his long nose to the corners of his mouth.

What had he been forced to do when Dumbledore sent him out to pull the wool over Voldemort’s eyes? Did they make him kill or torture someone? Had he been hurt himself?

And how on earth had he managed to survive?

Suddenly Ruta became aware of the sunlight warming her face; she hadn’t noticed that the room was beginning to fill with the clear, blue brightness of a new August morning. She got up from her chair, straightening her back.

It was time.

She took a bath, washed and dried her hair and slipped into a fresh dress. For a moment she contemplated breakfast, but her stomach was in too many knots. Within the next hour she would have to go to Berwick, or send an owl to notify Fionnula that she meant to take the day off. But whatever she decided, first she had to find out the truth.

Five minutes later she stood on the doorstep of Stephen Seeker’s cottage.

*****

She pulled at the slim chain hanging beside the door and heard the faint ringing of a bell from inside. At first there was no reaction, and the seconds stretched nearly long enough to make her courage waver. But before she could turn away, half relieved that she’d escaped the immediate confrontation, she heard steps approaching, and the very next moment the door opened.

“Miss Lupin?”

He looked at her with mild perplexity; only too understandable, for this was the first time in weeks that she had ventured further than his garden gate.

“Good… good morning,” she said, her voice thin and nervous. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, you didn’t. I was just going to have breakfast.” He frowned, studying her a bit closer. “You look as if you haven't slept. Is the boy all right?"

He had no idea. Ruta helplessly stifled the irrational urge to laugh. "Yes. No. Teddy's safe in bed, but..." She hadn't yet found the right words.

Seeker's frown deepened. “Still, something is wrong – very wrong, I suspect, to put you in such a state,” he stated, his tone slightly impatient. “Come inside and explain."

She walked past him as if in a dream, and caught a short glimpse of her face in a round mirror on the wall of the small vestibule. Deadly pale, eyes huge with panic and rimmed by dark shadows… no wonder that the mere sight of her was enough to alarm him.

“Sit down, Miss Lupin,” he said, as they reached the living room. “I’ll be right back.” The kitchen door closed behind him.

Hesitatingly she settled in a stuffed chair. The room had obviously undergone some drastic changes since Stephen Seeker began living here. What had once been a Muggle cottage with electric light and most of the other attributes of modern civilization, was now decidedly the home of a wizard. Two chests of drawers and a big wardrobe with a richly carved front had replaced the former furniture, a carpet in warm colors covered the shining wooden floor, and on a huge oak wood table a high pile of leather-bound volumes bore witness of Stephen Seeker’s love for books. It was a very masculine room and astonishingly comfortable, and to her surprise Ruta felt herself slowly relaxing.

The kitchen door opened again, and Seeker appeared, carrying a tray with plates, mugs and all the ingredients for an enormous breakfast. Ruta felt her nostrils widen when an enticing cloud of smells wafted over to her. His lips twitched in a half-smile.

“You look like a tired pony at the sight of the drinking trough,” he remarked, placing the tray on the table and removing the books. “Winky agreed to brew some extra coffee for you; but she refuses to come out and greet you.” He filled a cup for her and – without asking – added a good amount of sugar and cream. She accepted it, warming her hands on the fine, white china, and took a first sip.

“Thank you… that’s delicious,” she slowly said. “And my best regards to Winky, too… I’m not surprised that she refuses to leave the kitchen. You told me that she’s very shy.”

“Well, she got along with Teddy rather well when he stormed my house yesterday,” he gave back, helping himself to tea, toast and scrambled eggs from a silver bowl. “But I think an unknown witch – let alone one I’ve recently begun to actually talk to on a regular basis – is too much for her peace of mind. She finds my growing… sociability… quite disturbing.”

And she’s got a fine instinct, Ruta thought, feeling the medal she had wrapped in a handkerchief burn a hole in the pocket of her dress. She cleared her throat.

“I know this is not… not our usual way to meet, Mr. Seeker,” she said. “But I fear we have a case of emergency.”

“How very cryptic,” he replied, a strange glint in his eye. “Did that young rascal do more than accidentally burning his grandmother's curtains?”

For a moment Ruta stared at him, wondering how he’d pumped that embarrassing little secret from Teddy. Then she took a deep breath, hell-bent on getting over with both, her confession and her inquiry.

"Yes," she said. "He took something when he was here yesterday." She pulled the handkerchief-wrapped medal out of her pocket, but found herself reluctant to pass it back to its owner. "He abused your hospitality, and what is worse, I have abused your trust."

“In what way?” His voice was cool; she could find no surprise in the calm tone… as if being betrayed was nothing new or unexpected.

“He stole a medal he found in one of your drawers and hid it in his pocket; I’m sure he meant no evil, but that doesn’t make things better. Especially after I couldn’t keep myself from indulging my own curiosity.”

“Oh. Did you?”

“Yes, I did, to my deepest regret,” Ruta said, staring down at the package in her hands. “I gave Teddy house arrest, took the medal and went home. The shape of it reminded me of something… I could tell it had been enchanted... So I tried Veritas Revelio, but it didn’t work. And then I changed to Finite Incantatem.”

She unwrapped the medal and laid it beside her untouched plate on the table, the backside up, the letters of the solemn inscription glittering in the bright morning sun.

She waited. What she had done had been unforgivable, and she knew it. He'd be within his rights to throw her out the door. It seemed a very long time before he spoke.

“For a secret, selfless fight, for unerring faithfulness and a most noble sacrifice,” Stephen Seeker recited, without bending down to read the words, his voice very soft. And then his tone changed. “Terribly pretentious, and absolutely misleading to boot.”

She raised her head and looked at him. His lips formed a thin, white line.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because those words were the result of sheer generosity.” He got up from his chair and stepped away from her. “In a way it is rather… humiliating that a boy I have been despising and mistreating for six years paid me back by transforming me into a Pillar Saint.”

“He did not!” Ruta protested without thinking. “It was an act of honesty… and of honor. I know Harry Potter – he has a fierce, unerring sense of justice.”

“Unlike me?” His tone was cold and mocking, but there was something else, too. Hurt? Silent anger?

“How should I know?” she fired back. “I could consult the books that have been written since the defeat of the Dark Lord - I'm sure I have a choice between a dozen interpretations.”

She saw his back turn rigid. “What keeps you from picking the most popular one, then? That would be simplest, wouldn't it?.”

”During the last twenty years I have learned that the important things in life are neither popular nor simple,” Ruta said, her heart heavy with old memories and new regret. “And if you want me to leave, I shall.”

She cleared her throat.

”But it is true. You areSeverus Snape.”

“I was, once,” he said. The tension slowly left his body, and his voice was infinitely tired. “And - to satisfy your thirst for knowledge - I owe my life to Winky. I convinced her to pledge her loyalty to me when she lost her master and the family she'd been bound to, and she has been my servant ever since. She came to save me with phoenix tears, and she gave me the Draught of the Living Death, to buy me the time to wait until I could escape unnoticed. But I did not change my identity for nothing, Miss Lupin. I have little interest in reviving the man I used to be.”

Ruta let out the breath she didn’t know she'd been holding. She'd had no idea what to expect from him. Blazing rage, perhaps, deliberate denial or sarcastic laughter... even a lightning-fast spell, a cold voice, hissing "Obliviate!" and erasing her memory like a wiped-out blackboard. But instead he had given her the immediate confirmation of her guess, and now her head was spinning with excitement and wonder.

He turned back to her and their eyes met; no doubt, this was the face of the man on the portrait, and yet it was not. Most of the brooding anger and contempt were gone. The lines she remembered hadn’t been wiped out completely, the years and the torturous experience of walking in the darkness far too long had left their combined mark. And still...

She wasn’t entirely able to figure out what it was that had worked the change - but changed he was. Suddenly she thought of an empty shell she once found while walking along the coast near the cliffs of Dover. Wind, saltwater and sand had erased the content, rinsing the shell until nothing was left but the empty, white case. This man had been stripped of his nightmares as well as of his wishes and ambitions, and what she now saw in front of her eyes was the shell of his former existence, still waiting to be filled with something new.

She took the medal from the table and held it out onto him.

“You should take it back,” she said.

“No,” he quietly said. “It belongs to a time best left forgotten. It was sheer vanity to keep it for so long – as you have proved to me quite convincingly.” He shot her a thoughtful gaze. “Has Teddy any idea of what you’ve found out?”

“Of course not!” she answered, slightly vexed. “Nor his grandmother, or anyone else! What do you expect of me?"

“Interestingly enough I don’t know what to expect from you, Miss Lupin,” Stephen Seeker – Severus Snape - stated, again studying her face as if trying to solve a mystery. “But I suspect that the secret of my identity is safe in your hands.”

“Yes,” Ruta replied, strangely touched by this unexpected sign of faith in her. She felt herself smiling. “And I’d like to return one of these evenings, to learn more about your life after the last battle… if you are willing to tell me about it, of course." The smile grew when he raised an eyebrow in question. "I didn’t explore that medal because I was searching for some juicy gossip. I wanted to know more about the man behind the garden wall… I hoped it would help to understand you better. I enjoy our conversations, Mr. Seeker. And your secret – all of your secrets – are indeed safe with me.”

To her amazement he reached out and touched her fingers, gently closing them over the medal. "Keep this one for me, then," he said. He stepped back and bowed before her with the courtesy of a long-past age.

The clock on the mantelpiece announced the hour, and Ruta startled. “I should go now,” she said, tucking the medal away again. “Fionnula and her flowers will be waiting. Good bye, Mr Seeker. And thank you.”

“Good bye, Miss Lupin.”

She left the cottage and walked through the garden gate; suddenly it occurred to her that – aside from a cup of extraordinarily delicious coffee - her stomach was still empty. She thought of the plates and bowls on the tray and gave a little sigh, inwardly laughing at herself. There you go and discover the best kept secret of the Wizarding world, she mused, and all you can think of right now is a missed breakfast.

She went home to have a small snack and to fetch her bicycle, and then took the way to Berwick, deliberately returning to her usual routine. But for the rest of the day, while binding colorful bouquets and nurturing tender rose saplings to full glory with her wand, she still kept feeling the short, reverent touch of his hand, and her heart was filled with a silent, hesitant joy.