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Chapter 156 — Snape's Memories
"The invisibility cloak you bought."
Dumbledore looked at Snape with a calm, pointed expression.
Snape froze.
Of all things, he hadn't expected himself to be the reason Darren had been exposed.
The realization stunned Quirrell.
Even Voldemort stirred, face showing faint amusement.
He laughed—soft, satisfied.
Snape's lips tightened with regret.
If he had known this would happen, he would never have given the boy that cloak.
Why had he even—
"Why aren't you surprised at all that it's me?"
Voldemort finally stopped laughing.
Darren's lack of reaction clearly intrigued him.
Snape, too, noticed it.
The boy didn't even look startled.
Had he always known?
"No," Darren said softly. "I knew from the beginning it wasn't Professor Snape. He's always been so good to me…"
Good?
Snape nearly choked.
He'd never given Darren any special treatment.
Strict, yes.
Cold, yes.
Good?
Where in Merlin's name did the brat get that idea?
"The professor is so gentle and kind," Darren continued earnestly. "I can't imagine him doing anything bad."
Snape went red.
Actually red.
Voldemort cackled.
More back-and-forth followed, every word pushing Voldemort's patience thinner and thinner—until he finally snapped.
"Since neither of you believes the Philosopher's Stone belongs to me, then I'll have to punish one of you. Harry Potter… you."
He raised his wand.
Snape immediately looked at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore only closed his eyes, accepting it as something Harry "must face."
But this wasn't some light test—it was the Cruciatus Curse.
Snape's instinct took over. He stepped forward to stop it—
—but Dumbledore caught his wand.
A silent shake of the head.
Snape trembled.
He looked back, expecting Harry to collapse in agony.
Instead—
Darren was the one on the floor.
Huddled, pale, drenched in cold sweat.
"Ha… Harry… run…"
His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
Every breath was pain.
Every second he pushed himself to keep speaking.
By the end, he didn't even have the strength to scream.
Snape's hands shook.
This wasn't some staged illusion.
This was real suffering.
Why would Dumbledore allow an innocent child to take the curse?
Was he trying to kill him?
Turn him mad like the Longbottoms?
Snape nearly grabbed the headmaster by the collar.
But Dumbledore met his eyes and silently warned him:
Do not interfere. If you interrupt, Darren's sacrifice will be wasted.
Wasted.
Darren's agony felt endless.
Snape watched every twitch, every ragged breath—until Darren finally fell unconscious.
Voldemort's vapor-like form shot forward—
—and passed straight through Darren's chest before striking Harry.
Snape lunged the second Voldemort receded, catching the boy before he hit the ground.
Hands trembling, he poured a potion between Darren's lips.
"Severus… it had to be done…"
Dumbledore approached, reaching out to assess the boys.
Snape blocked him.
"Don't touch them."
His voice was a knife.
What "greatest headmaster"?
He was watching children suffer—again—because he refused to act.
"I don't know how you defeated Grindelwald," Snape hissed. "Maybe the tabloids were right—maybe all you used was a damn handkerchief."
"Severus…" Dumbledore whispered, exhausted. "If I had another way, I wouldn't let the children bear this."
"You're Dumbledore," Snape snapped.
"Yes," Dumbledore murmured. "But I am not omnipotent. And Severus… I am old."
"You can still kill him." Snape's voice broke.
"Even as you are, you could kill Voldemort. Why won't you? What else do you need? Tell me—I'll do it. I'll do anything."
Dumbledore's eyes softened with something like heartbreak.
"Yes, Severus… you're right. Tom can be killed. Even now, I can do it.
But then what?"
Snape blinked.
"What do you mean, what then?"
"Harry already killed him once," Dumbledore said quietly. "And Voldemort returned.
If I force another confrontation and die afterwards… wouldn't he simply return again?"
Snape's lips shook.
"But… they're still children…"
"Yes. And Darren is innocent."
Dumbledore's voice caught.
"But he is Harry Potter's brother. No Death Eater will spare him just because he is blameless."
Snape didn't move.
Couldn't.
"And the reason the prophecy escaped," Dumbledore whispered, "the reason any of this started… is you, Severus."
"…It's me…"
Snape sank to the floor.
"I don't blame you," Dumbledore said softly.
"Even if you hadn't repeated it, the prophecy would have leaked eventually. But I want Harry treated better. I know you're furious—more for Darren than Harry—but look at the scar on his forehead. He needs love, Severus. The best kind. I hope you can—"
"I can't."
Snape's head shot up. His eyes were wild.
"I know what you're trying to do. You want me to feel guilty enough to be kind to Harry Potter. But look at him!"
Snape pointed at Harry's unconscious form.
"That face—James Potter's face. Do you know what being James Potter cost me? Did you ever stop it? I wanted to kill the boy the first time I saw him!"
Dumbledore's expression crumpled.
"So…" Snape whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry… whether it was then, or just now. I'm sorry."
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