TBAY: Soulsucked!Snape(well, not really)Meets Saboteur!Snape

[susannahlm]

No: HPFGUIDX 46873


Derannimer paused for a moment, peering through the hole in the steam 
of the window. She wasn't altogether sure that she wanted to go into 
the Tavern. True, it was cold outside; the rain was lashing downwards 
and the stiff wind whipped her skirt around her calves in a most 
unpleasant manner. It would be nice and warm in the Tavern, and also 
she could get a drink. 

But. . . 

Well, Derannimer had never been to the Bay before. She had been 
reading about it for so long--things wonderful to tell, of brilliant 
and beautiful theorists and nautical battles that raged for weeks and 
a decidedly odd form of croquet, and it had sounded like such a 
wonderful place that she had finally just given up and *gone*. But 
hanging around was one thing; eavesdropping on other people's 
conversations was one thing. Walking into the Tavern, where she could 
see *George*, and *Marina*, and *Charis Julia*, and sitting herself 
down  an-and-
and-getting-a-drink-from-George, for heaven's sake, was quite 
another. These were some of the Greats of TBAY. What if one of them 
actually spoke to her? Would she be able to make a sensible reply, or 
would she just gurgle and fall off her bar stool? 
She took another look through the window, and saw something that she 
had missed before: Captain Cindy was there, slumped over the bar, 
some dark liquid pooled on the polished wood by her elbow. 

"Captain Cindy," thought Derannimer. "Well, that's it then. I'm not 
going in there." 

A few damp leaves, driven by that dratted wind, smacked against her 
bare arm and lay plastered there. She peeled them off with 
distaste. "Well, that's it then," thought Derannimer. "I *am* going 
in there." She wouldn't have to talk to anyone, she could just get a 
drink. 

She pushed open the door and walked in, trying simultaneously to feel 
tall and to look inconspicuous. 

It was indeed warm inside the Tavern; warm, cheerfully lit, well-
appointed and free of any annoying music. Nice place.  

Derannimer picked out a stool at the far end of the bar. If she sat 
here, maybe no one would speak to her, and maybe she would still be 
close enough to hear some of the conversation taking place between 
Marina and Charis Julia, over there in the corner. She had caught the 
word "Snape," so it might be--

"And what'll it be for you, miss?" came a brightly attractive voice 
from over the counter. 

Someone was standing in front of her. Derannimer shot her glance far 
enough upward to recognize the unmistakably fine forehead and limpid 
brown eyes currently tending bar. She as quickly dropped it, 
blushing. 

"Um... can I have a glass of milk? Please?" 

Down the length of the bar, she thought she heard Captain Cindy 
snort, but this hardly seemed likely; the Captain didn't appear to be 
in any sort of a state to care what other people wanted to order, or 
indeed to notice. 

George set the cool glass down on the counter, then drifted off about 
two yards, where, apparently in need of refills, Marina and Charis 
Julia had come over to the bar. 

Charis Julia was speaking, playing affectionately with her 
FEATHERBOAS. 

"Oh," she whispers softly. "Oh, just think of it. . . Just think of 
all the things that would resurface in the mind of the repented Death 
Eater Snape were he ever to be trapped by a Dementor! The pain, the 
anguish, the racking guilt and regret! What memories of past crimes 
pushed aside, out of recollection for 14 long years would force 
themselves back into vivid, relentless recognition! Re—played again 
and again and again. . . wide screen, Dolby Digital, the works. . . 
and all the while Snape on the ground, writhing, * screaming* in--"

"No, but would he though?"

Deranninmer is quite as surprised as anyone else to hear her own 
voice suddenly interrupt Charis Julia's. The young woman pushes 
herself off her bar stool and walks, a bit wobbly in shock, over to 
Charis Julia, who is courteously waiting, silent, to hear the 
objection.  

"I mean. . . I'm not sure if the Dementors could affect Snape, seeing 
as how I'm not sure he's got a soul. At least not all of one." 

"You mean he's half-Dementor himself, right?"

Cindy's voice. The Captain has apparently regained consciousness 
enough to welcome anyone implying that Snape's not all human. 

"N-no. I don't mean that half-Dementor thing. I mean the Dark Mark." 

Derannimer looks around her, gaining some confidence from the 
obviously friendly theorists. She briefly catches George's eye, and e 
winks. She takes a deep breath in and lets a deep breath out, and 
then she starts talking. 

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I think that, in order to become a Death Eater, you have to bind 
yourself to Lord Voldemort, in an arrangement whereby he gives you 
nifty extra powers, and you give him *you*: your service, possibly 
your powers to some degree (which could only add to his strength), 
and, naturally (this is a "deal with the devil", after all) your 
actual soul. This is a "binding magical contract;" it cannot be 
broken, no matter how much you repent, no matter how badly you want 
to renege--you keep your nifty powers, and Lord Voldemort keeps your 
soul. Your body, and your intellect, and (obviously) your will can go 
on their merry way, but some fairly substantial part of you splits 
off from the rest and stays with Voldemort. (It might not be a clean 
break--it might not be your whole soul--because Voldemort, unlike a 
Dementor, does not have this ability "naturally." He has to use some 
froody piece of Dark Magic to do it, and so the effects might be less 
tidy.)

So Snape left Voldemort. But not all of him left. No wonder his eyes 
are always "empty;" your eyes would be empty to if half your soul, or 
all your soul, or 28/34's of your soul, or whatever the percentage 
was in his case, was residing in Evil Snake Baby/Man. When Voldemort 
really dies, maybe Snape gets his soul back. Or maybe it simply goes 
poof and Snape throws himself in the Lake and gets eaten by the Giant 
Squid. Or whatever. 

Have I got any sort of canonical support at *all* for this admittedly 
somewhat esoteric--and weird--notion? (About the DE's and Voldemort, 
I mean, not about the Squid.) Well, let's see. 

Given: 1. There is such a thing as a binding magical contract (set up 
in GOF, with the Triwizard Tournament. 
       2. the Death Eaters are somehow bound to Voldemort. 
       3. This bind has at *least* a physical manifestation in the 
Dark  Mark. 
       4. In the Potterverse, souls can be *literally* manipulated by 
magic (ala the Dementor's Kiss). 
       5. It's usually a dumb idea to make a "deal with the devil", 
according to every piece of literature I've ever read. 
       
In message 36473, Elkins very convincingly made a case for a quid-pro-
quo between Voldemort and his DE's, powers for allegiance. 


>There is some suggestion in the books that either Voldemort himself 
>or allegiance to Dark forces in general might indeed have the 
>ability 
>to imbue wizards with magical powers previously beyond their 
>capabilities.

>In the Shrieking Shack scene of PoA, for example, Pettigrew offers 
>up 
>Sirius' escape from Azkaban as proof of his Dark allegiance. ("He's 
>got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of! How else did he 
>get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a 
>few tricks?") And Pettigrew himself seems to me to be *extremely* 
>magically capable, for someone who is constantly accused of being a 
>weak wizard. That muggle-blasting spell couldn't have been easy, and 
>I imagine that the ritual spell by which Voldemort was rebirthed in 
>GoF must have been quite difficult -- yet Pettigrew manages to 
>complete it even after severing his own hand.

>It seems more than likely to me that casting ones lot in with Dark 
>forces really *does* grant one a certain boost in magical power. It 
>would do much to explain Dark magic's siren song appeal to those 
>ambitious, power-hungry, ends-over-means, rules-disregarding, fair-
>play-is-for-dummies members of House Slytherin. And there's also an 
>enormous weight of cultural and literary precedent behind the 
>notion. Traditionally, after all, deals with the Devil do usually 
>get you *something* -- even if you pay far too high a price for it, 
>in the end.

And I agreed then with every word she said. I think it's actually 
highly likely that the DE's do get something. The problem with my 
idea is that it really comes down to what *Voldemort* gets. There's 
nothing to prove that he gets their souls. But hey, it seems in 
character for Voldemort, and the Dementors suggest that it's 
possible. And I do think that, whatever Voldemort gets, a "binding 
magical contract" does enter into the deal. I mean, where's the 
eternal consequence (or the Bang) of a deal with the Devil when you 
can simply *change your mind* when you feel like it? 

No. It's got to be harder than that.  

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". . . so, I mean, Snape wouldn't be writhing around in agony or 
anything, faced with a Dementor. They might not even be able to tell 
that he's there. Which is a pity, because *I* kind of like the idea 
too. 

"I mean, I don't know what this theory's got going for it; I don't 
know if you can make it Bang or anything--" Derannimer briefly 
glances at Captain Cindy, then decides it's not worth the effort to 
wake her up again--"and I don't know what George will think of it, 
but. . . well, I don't think I've ever seen it anywhere else, and I 
thought maybe I should bring it up, and well. . . that's it, really. 

"Blow it to pieces." ;)  

Derannimer looks around the Tavern. It is considerably fuller than it 
was earlier in the evening, but her seat, at the far end of the bar, 
is still vacant. She looks at it for a minute, then shakes her 
head. "Nah," she says, and grabs a bar stool a couple places down 
from Captain Cindy. "I like it here." ;)

Derannimer (who cannot believe how long this message is, and feels 
unjustifiably smug about it)