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The Death of Severus Snape | ||||||
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Category: Hogwarts Express Challenge (2006-3) Characters:None Genres: Angst, Drama, Tragedy Warnings: Death Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 25 Summary: ** Winner of Best Drama in the Hogwarts Express Challenge ** Ginny stood rooted to the spot and slowly realized why all went very quiet on the train. Why no scream was heard and the stillness hung thick in the air like a slow, dense fog. It was all because there lay their ex-teacher, murderer of Professor Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, dead. Hitcount: Story Total: 14442; Chapter Total: 3437 |
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I never knew that he was a cold-blooded murderer until that one day, of course. Still I think that perhaps he did not murder in cold-blood but only in a terrible moment of fury. He could never control his anger after all, no matter how hard he tried. I still hate to think of that day, but sometimes I just have to come down here and visit him. He ruined his life, yes. Perhaps he ruined the wizarding world as well, but I still love him. My name is Ginny Weasley, and I am the sole damsel who dares to enter Azkaban. “Lady of Azkaban” they always greet me mockingly. I think their reference is to the Lady of the Lake in King Arthur’s days, for surely I must look like that. Azkaban is surrounded by mists, and every year I come here, most years far more than once, I stand upon the bow of the boat as we venture forth to Azkaban, the mysterious boatman paying me no heed. I often thought that he went mad in his job, but now I know that his silence was defense against madness. I would always step off the boat, greeted by Aurors. Some mocked me, some silently respected me, in any case I did not care and so it did not matter. Always Kingsley Shacklebolt led me to his prisoner’s cell. I often wondered why he did not try and help him to escape. I often wondered why his prisoner did not try to escape himself. Now I know the horrible truth–he liked it better in his little prison cell than he did in the outside world. I knelt by his cell and whispered his name. He looked at me, his once bright eyes dull. He did not respond, but only put his head on his chest once more. I think I reminded him of things he did not want to remember. For I knew he did not want to remember that there had once been an outside world for him, a world outside of his insanity. I think that despite the few dementors they kept around his cage he thought of happy things that they were powerless to suck away, for although they were great happy things, they were made up within his own mind, and therefore sadder and more depressing than any memory that the dementors could put in its place. I would sit there, perhaps for an hour, more contemplating things than anything else. I thought that perhaps I, too, should give in to the madness–it seemed a far kinder place than anywhere I had ever been. Yet, I always pushed this thought away, for I thought that perhaps one day I could save him, and I would need to be full of mind to do that. When I would sit there contemplating on those dreary days that I visited him in Azkaban I often wondered why the Ministry had imprisoned him. No one missed Severus Snape. In fact, many people were glad that he had killed him, and he was viewed as a hero. So many people were outraged when he was sentenced to jail. I think I was the most outraged. For I had solved the mystery myself. I had, without meaning to, stabbed him in the back. I would think of all the good times we had had together, all the wonderful memories we shared. How many years had passed now since that day? One, two, three…the list grew one more with every year, until finally it reached thirteen. Unlucky thirteen. It was that year that I knew he was completely lost. I could never find him again. Lost within his own eyes, his own mind. He was now irretrievable. I cried that year. I wept mercilessly. It was pointless I knew–what was done was done. He would look up when I would cry. His fathomless eyes I wish would bore into me as they once had. Yet now, they only stared at me blankly. Seeing me without recognition. Seeing me without seeing me at all…and then I would cry again. Why had they taken him away from me? It seem so cruel, and hardly necessary. I had begged for him, pleaded for him. He told me that he had to accept the consequences for what he had done. That knowledge only made me cry harder. He had always been so noble, so good. He made one mistake, a mistake that most people believed should not even be considered a mistake. He was a DeathEater for crying out loud, he had killed Dumbledore! He deserved death. Yet apparently he did not deserve death at the hands of a sixteen-year-old. When I heard his life sentence in Azkaban, I truly could not bear it. I had done it. Me. I had turned him over. It was an accident! Me and my big mouth. My stupid wit and puzzling brain. Oh, why did I have to put the pieces together like so? I could hardly understand the self-cruelty I’d been dealt. Now he was rotting in a cell, so far gone into madness that he would never be healed, and here I was, a withering flower waiting to die and join him. Life truly is as cruel as it seems. I wished not to think back upon that one day. That one, terribly awful day on the Hogwarts Express when I happened to stumble upon something bigger than myself. I should not have interfered. I never should have helped him solve the mystery. If I had not helped, then the murderer would have gotten away, and consequently, so would have my love. Yet he did not escape. He did not escape and he was put on trial. It was a cruel thing for them to ask me to testify against him. I had no choice in the matter. I can remember sitting on the bench, sobbing. I could not for the life of me lie, and yet I wished with all my heart, body and soul that I could. I had not the power to fight the damnation I’d face if I lied. I wish I had been stronger. How I wished for that damnation now, for surely it could be nothing compared to this terrible suffering. Total damnation could not compare to this misery, I was certain. I would then whisper his name softly again. He would not look at me a third time, I knew that from experience. I knew that no matter how deep into madness he had sunk, he could still remember pain. Perhaps that was all he could remember. Just that feeling with no memories. I would cry again, and even if I willed it not, I would remember the cruelty of the world. I would remember the day my love was damned to spend his life in this Prison, rotting. Most of all, I would remember the death of Severus Snape. |
| Reviews 25 |
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