A Looping of the Scales ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 6 ~ Finding His Place

Snape walked down the dungeon corridor, the flickering torches and silence giving it an even eerier atmosphere than he was used to experiencing. He stopped in front of the Potions classroom. If it were locked, he wouldn’t be able to get to the lab. He pushed the door and it swung open with a loud creak.

He entered and looked around. Now that he was focused, he could see that this wasn’t the classroom of his memory. Slughorn had posters of ingredients all over the walls, and there was a bright airiness despite the class being in the dungeons. But this place was dark, dismal. There was nothing on the walls, nothing to distract the eyes. There was a list of ingredients written on the blackboard. Snape stared at the large desk and swivel chair. The only slightly ornate thing in the class was the gargoyle in the corner, spewing water into a basin. Actually, it was pretty grotesque.

Snape approved of the somber atmosphere. A person would focus on what they were doing. Slughorn was a decent Potions teacher, but Snape found him too—jovial and too concerned with flattering and giving legs up to students he thought exemplary. He never paid Snape too much attention. Although he was excellent in potions, he wasn’t the kind of boy who was popular, but dark, strange and Slughorn felt—a bit sinister. He’d had enough of sinister young wizards when Tom Riddle was around, although he had been very popular—too popular in fact.

Snape walked down the short corridor that led to the Potions lab, and stopped as he heard a noise. Then he slunk forward. The door to the lab was cracked and light was coming out of it. He thought he saw a shadow.

He didn’t have a wand, but was curious to see who was in a lab that technically belonged to him. He eased up to the door and looked around it, only his eyes and large nose visible.

There was a short, bald wizard in there, poking around and muttering, “Where are they? They must be here someplace. He couldn’t work without them, could he?”

Snape blinked. The wizard had his back to him and was rather broad. There was something familiar about that voice. The wizard turned around. He had an enormous walrus-like mustache, a round belly and wore very old-fashioned clothes.

Snape walked into the lab.

”Professor Slughorn?” he ventured.

”Severus!” Slughorn gasped. He jumped a bit guiltily at the sudden address.

Snape stared at his old potions teacher. His mustache used to be a kind of gingery-blonde, and he had some hair the last time he saw him. But now he was completely bald and his mustache was white.

”Er—I’m here looking for clues as to what happened to you, on Minerva’s orders of course,” the wizard blustered.

”Minerva?”

”Ah—yes—you’ve forgotten, haven’t you? The headmistress. That’s her name. Minerva.”

Snape just looked at him.

Slughorn moved closer, now examining the youthened wizard with a critical eye.

”It’s absolutely amazing,” he breathed, “you look exactly like you did when you were my student. Do you have any idea what you were working on when this happened?”

”No,” Snape lied.

There was something in Slughorn’s eyes that he didn’t like.

”Well, I’ve tested for Dark Magic, but there is no signature to suggest its use, so, it must have been a potion you were working on—I couldn’t find any notes—“

”I need to find my wand,” Snape said shortly.

Slughorn was trying to find out what he was working on so he could steal it, he was sure. Snape began to look around the ruined lab. It was clear there was an explosion. His dark eyes fell on a long smear of dried blood over by the shelving, then on pieces of cauldron embedded in the shelves, one large piece even stuck in a wall. This had been a deadly explosion. How did he survive it?

”That potion you were working on, it could be worth a fortune,” Slughorn ventured. “Are you sure you don’t know what it is? I—many people could—er—benefit from its properties. Be restored to their youth—“

Snape located his wand under a desk in the corner and picked it up. It looked so worn but he could feel its power and felt safer now that he had something familiar in his hands. He looked at Slughorn.

”I don’t know what I was working on, professor. But I don’t know how beneficial a potion that takes off years while wiping out your memories would be.”

”Those are just details, Severus, just details,” Slughorn said. “You’ve always been rather brilliant with potions—I’m sure if you devoted yourself to recreating whatever it was, you’d be able to figure it out again—“

”I’m more interested in trying to find my place than working on potions,” Snape said to him, yawning. He was so tired.

”I can’t find any notes,” Slughorn said, looking around the lab again. “Nothing on your experiments.”

Snape just looked at him. He certainly didn’t know where they were, if there were any at all. He’d always been rather careful with his notes about potions and spells. He kept them in his Advanced Potions book, which he always kept on him. Only once had it come up missing for several days, before mysteriously appearing on his Potions desk again.

Then, James hit him with the Levicorpus spell he’d created down by the lake, and he knew the Marauders had studied his work. It was ironic that the hexes he developed to protect himself were in the hands of his enemies. Ironic and aggravating.

“Maybe I kept them in my head,” Snape suggested with another yawn.

”That would be a tragedy if true,” Slughorn sighed.

Snape felt his eyes growing heavy. He was too tired to go back to Spinner’s End tonight.

”Professor, can you show me how to get into my quarters?” he asked the wizard, who frowned at him. He wanted some information, and Snape wasn’t being forthcoming.

Then he smiled. No need in making bad feelings. He could look around some more after Snape retired. He’d find something.

”Certainly, my boy. Follow me,” he said, rolling out of the doorway. Snape followed him through the classroom and down the short hall to the door that opened on his office. Slughorn opened it and Snape went stock still as he saw all the jars filled with liquid, plants and creatures behind the desk. A frog suspended in purple liquid twitched spasmodically.

Slughorn looked at the gruesome display and shook his head slightly.

”I must say I’ve never appreciated your decorative tastes, Severus,” he said tightly as he walked over to a shelf of books and pulled one out. The stone wall slid back and to the side, leaving an opening. Snape didn’t notice as he stared at the jars.

”These are mine?” Snape asked, drawing closer and studying the specimens.

”Every blessed one,” Slughorn replied with a shudder.

Snape gave a little smirk at how awful they were. Students must have hated coming to his office.

”Now, you pull out this book to get into your quarters,” Slughorn directed, showing Snape the black bound book titled, “Entering the Dark Domain.” Snape turned and walked over, memorizing the title and eyeing the door.

Slughorn walked through, followed by Snape. It was a study, and there were books, thousands of books from the floor to the ceiling, lining the walls. Snape’s eyes rounded. He had liked collecting books, but damn! This was definitely obsession!

”You pull this torch to the left to open the wall from the inside,” Slughorn informed him, his face twisted in disapproval at the study.

When he stayed here, there was plush carpeting and other amenities. But now, the stone floors were bare and only a writing desk, a sofa, two armchairs, a liquor cabinet and a small table furnished the place. It was sparse and very dungeon like. A cold hearth finished it off. The only bit of decoration was the Slytherin standard hung over the fireplace.

Severus thought it perfect. He grew up poor and was used to having just the bare necessities. That was reflected in his private quarters. All he needed to be comfortable was here. He pointed his wand at the fireplace.

”Incendio!” he hissed, igniting the wood within. He turned to Slughorn.

”Thank you, professor Slughorn. I should be fine from here,” he said, dismissing the wizard.

”I hope to talk with you again, Severus. We really need to figure this out. You could be quite famous if you recreate that potion. Very famous.”

Snape frowned at him slightly.

“Aren’t I famous already?” he asked Slughorn. Hermione had told him he was in the history books.

Slughorn cleared his throat.

”Ah—yes. Yes you are,” Slughorn admitted.

”So, why would I want even more fame? I’m not sure I want what I have,” Snape said to him coldly.

Slughorn frowned.

”Just think about the potion,” he said irritably, leaving the study, the wall sliding over and closing behind him.

Snape’s stomach gurgled. He was more than hungry. He looked at the fireplace and the box resting on top of the mantle. He walked over and took it down. It was Floo powder. One of the perks of being a teacher. He cast a handful into the flame of the fireplace and it turned green.

”Kitchen?” he called through.

”Is the kitchens!” a squeaky voice replied. Snape gave a small smile.

”I want fish and chips, with salt, vinegar and mushy peas,” the wizard ordered. “And a pumpkin juice.”

”Yes, sir. It will comes shortly,” the house elf replied. The fire turned red again.

Snape straightened, looking around the study again, then walked over to the writing desk. He sat down and pulled open the top drawer. There was a ledger in it. He opened it and scanned it, his eyes rounding as he saw the amount of Galleons he had in Gringotts bank. To an older, more knowledgeable Snape, two thousand Galleons wasn’t enough money to do anything of consequence with. It was the equivalent of ten thousand pounds, or about twenty thousand dollars. But to an eighteen-year-old wizard who had grown up with hardly a sickle in his pocket, it was a bloody fortune!

”I have this much money?” he breathed.

He closed the ledger and rifled through some papers, but didn’t find anything interesting until he felt the bottom of the drawer shift slightly. He pulled it up and felt around under it, pulling out a small, yellowed photograph. It was torn, and a picture of Lily Evans. Not the Lily he remembered. She was older, smiling and waving at the camera.

She was still beautiful. But why was the picture torn?

Snape stared at her image, drinking it in. She looked so happy, so alive—

Alive.

No, she wasn’t alive.

She was dead, probably dust now—gone. Gone—forever. Because of James. Because of Tom. Because the world was cold and dark and unfair. Because—there were no gods.

Snape blinked away the water in his eyes. What would he do now? Everything he had done, he’d done with the hope of getting Lily back into his life. Now, she was gone. His purpose was gone. His very reason for existence was gone.

What was there to live for now?

Nothing.

A house elf winked in and placed Snape’s food on the table. Snape quickly wiped his eyes and did his best to look unaffected as he slid the plate and juice toward him. He noticed a blue flask as well.

”I didn’t order this. What is it?” Snape asked the elf, who bobbed a bit.

”That is Sleeping Draught, sir. It is what the Snape needs,” the elf said nervously. “Needs sleep. No dreams. No—pain.”

Snape blinked at the house elf. It had brought him what it believed he needed. House elves lived to give good service after all, and he did need a good sleep after the day he’d had.

”Thank you,” he said to it, and the creature smiled.

”The Snape never thanks. This is greatest honor,” it said happily before bowing and winking out.

”The Snape never thanks?” Snape muttered as sprinkled a bit of salt and vinegar on his food and bit into the crisp battered fish. “The Snape never thought he’d ever be in a situation like this either.”

Snape finished his meal, then drank down the Sleeping Draught.

He barely made it into his sparsely furnished bedroom before falling face first into the bed fully dressed, his snores loud and his sleep, mercifully dreamless.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.