Fic: In the Grand Scheme of Things
Title: In the Grand Scheme of Things
Author: magnetic_pole
Recipient gm_weasley
Prompt: The twelve uses of dragon's blood.
Summary: Lives saved and sacrificed for the greater good. Dumbledore's version of a scene Snape recalls in DH 33.
Word count: 1800
Warnings: Some massaging of canon. References to drug use.
"Hold still, almost done," Severus said, spreading the salve across his palm and down his wrist. Dumbledore's blackened hand felt as light and fragile as parchment. He flexed it experimentally, wincing. The pain was still very great.
"Dragon's blood and essence of murtlap," Dumbledore whispered. His voice was unexpectedly hoarse, as if he had not used it in a long time. "You knew."
"Of course I knew," Severus replied. "Twelve uses, all medicinal, all related to wounds caused by curses, dark creatures, dragons, and hate."
"All except one," Dumbledore said, speaking slowly through the pain. "It can also be added to a balm applied to the abdomen during childbirth."
Severus released his hand and glanced away. "This is not exactly childbirth," he said.
"You brought me back into the world," Dumbledore said. "The only thing missing is the nappies."
The left corner of Severus' mouth twitched. Dumbledore giggled like child. Then, finally overwhelmed by the morning's near-disaster, he fainted.
*
When Dumbledore woke, he was slumped in his chair, and Severus was pouring a thick, chalky liquid down his throat with unsteady hands. He swallowed and choked on the potion, and Severus pulled the goblet away.
"Why?" said Severus without preamble, "why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"
Why, indeed. The stone--like the wand and the cloak--was not to be touched. He had realized that years ago. The Hallows were for wizards who sought power, not for him. He merely tried to catch a glimpse of the larger plan, to work toward the greater good.
"I was a fool," Dumbledore said. "Sorely tempted..."
"Tempted by what?" Severus asked.
The image of his sister haunted Dumbledore. Surely he hadn't thought that he could see her again, bring her back? Even he wasn't capable of that. He had been tempted and found weak.
He sighed. The effects of the potion were already beginning to wear off, and his office faded in and out as the pain surged and receded.
Perhaps it would not be too great a failing...at times of great stress, like these...it hurt no one, really...
Unlike the Hallows. This was the key distinction. It hurt no one.
"Could I ask you to summon some Pepper-Up Potion, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered.
Severus disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a bottle and a small goblet, which he filled and placed on the desk in front of Dumbledore.
"Add two drops of dragon's blood and stir clockwise seven times," Dumbledore said.
"What?" Severus demanded, frowning. "Are you trying to die? After all that?"
"It's on the top shelf, in the silver cauldron," Dumbledore said. "Please."
Severus schooled his features into scorn and did as he was told. Dumbledore felt a rush of great affection for his friend. He drank quickly and set the goblet down, already relaxing, already sensing the familiar warmth spreading through his body.
"There was a thirteenth use," Dumbledore whispered, speaking the secret aloud for the very first time. "It has to do with joy."
Severus looked at him blankly, confused, and Dumbledore chuckled. Few wizards had as little use for joy as Severus Snape. Never mind, one day he would understand.
He closed his eyes.
*
In the grand scheme of things, this morning's mistake is not such a tragedy, Albus Dumbledore knows. With dragon's blood flowing through his veins, he remembers just how meaningful the universe is. How interconnected, how rational, how infinitely complex. It is filled with love, held together by trust and compassion.
It's like the world of the ancient sagas, with goblins and giants and elves and wizards all living side-by-side. It's like the world Gellert imagined, peaceful and orderly, filled with sunshine and healthy children. It's like the world Elphias hoped for, contained entirely in a tiny, perfect cottage just large enough for the two of them and all of their dreams.
In this world, there are no mistakes; all events make sense and lead toward a higher goal. It's like watching a difficult arithmancy problem solved, step by step, against the blue sky of a spring afternoon. It's like watching a cosmic chess game, in which you understand all the moves that need to be made, all the way to the end.
In this world, Dumbledore sees rare, magnificent things that he wishes he saw all the time: Alastor laying down his wand, Minerva letting down her hair, Severus laughing.
Ariana, whole and alive again.
Harry, with his parents.
Tom, filled with remorse.
*
"Headmaster!"
Tom and Harry, shaking hands.
"Headmaster!"
No, perhaps it's just Harry, alone, with Tom's troubled soul finally laid to rest.
"Dumbledore!"
The vision was fading. Dumbledore recognized the distant voice as one he knew and loved dearly.
"Dumbledore!" Severus was shaking him roughly.
Either way, it is a cosmic--what was the phrase?--a cosmic chess game, every move related to the next.
One only needs to look at the larger picture to understand what to be done.
"Please, Albus," Severus whispered. "Don't leave me."
Dumbledore opened his eyes and raised his head slowly. The room was still swimming, but the pain had receded somewhat.
"We'll sacrifice the queen, won't we?" he asked aloud, before he could stop himself.
He had needlessly frightened Severus, Dumbledore could see that. Severus was pacing near his desk, his hands clasped behind his back, fear twisting his face in an ugly way.
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said.
"That was insane," Severus said.
Foolhardy, Dumbledore agreed silently, trying to collect his thoughts. Dragon's blood had never had affected him that violently before. He typically took a single drop in a glass of pumpkin juice, sometimes a drop and a half. Whether the blackout had been caused by the extra half-drop or the Pepper-Up Potion or the after-effects of the curse, he couldn't say. He would have to experiment further, if he had time.
"I'm fine now," he said gently, and, indeed, he was. Even his hand hurt less. He still felt relaxed and lucid.
Severus glared at him.
"It's a miracle you managed to return here!" Severus sounded furious. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power. To contain it is all we can hope for. I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being--"
Dumbledore examined his blackened hand with a researcher's eye. The combination of dragon's blood and murtlap essence was remarkably effective. Not only was the pain receding, but the skin looked healthy, and his fingers were sore but flexible.
He would make a note of that tonight, after a hearty dinner and a few chocolate frogs. There was no point in dying thin, after all.
"You've done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"
"I can't tell," Severus said. "Maybe a year. There's no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it's the sort of curse that strengthens over time."
A year, that was so much more than he had expected. He smiled at Severus, his friend, his savior. The anger evident on Severus' face was only a sign of his fright; they would be reconciled soon enough. Severus was one of the few who had stayed with him over the years, who trusted him implicitly, who understood what it meant to work toward the greater good. Perhaps Lily Evans had done for him what dragon's blood had done for Dumbledore, allowed him to finally understand that there was a universe larger than one he experienced, and that he played a crucial role in lives other than his own. He felt a kinship with him he had never felt before. He would miss Severus Snape.
"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."
Still frightened, still preoccupied with the curse, Severus misunderstood.
"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time! Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"
Truth be told, Dumbledore had no idea what he had been thinking. He blamed that old urge to change the universe, rekindled after so many years.
"Something like that," he said. "I was delirious, no doubt. Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."
Still feeling somewhat light-headed, Dumbledore struggled to sit up in his chair. He needed to concentrate. There was no longer any time to waste.
He needed to start putting his things in order. The memories related to Tom Riddle, certainly; those were essential for Harry. The instructions for the next headmaster, the unfinished business at the Ministry. Perhaps it was finally time to publish his research on the thirteenth use of dragon's blood. The world needed a little more joy.
There would be sufficient time to arrange for the most important events, at least. The game was not yet finished. He had a vision of Tom and Harry, shaking hands--no, no, that wasn't right. He shook his head in an effort to clear it. Harry alone, Tom's soul finally at rest. That was where they were headed.
How to get there? The answer was simple, so simple. They would sacrifice the queen, and Harry would capture the king.
The pawn, who was Tom's pawn again? Draco. Draco Malfoy, who had been charged with a task he should never have to fulfill. Never mind, Severus could kill him instead. It was the perfect solution. Ah, how beautiful the plan was, when you looked at it from a distance and saw the complex pattern, the many lives that were all bound together in a single story.
Severus was still staring at him, eyes wary, lips pressed together in a thin line.
"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me," Dumbledore said. "His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
Severus looked mutinous, but Dumbledore held up a hand, asking for patience.
His head was still throbbing, but he leaned forward, inspecting Severus' face. He had to speak clearly, he had to be certain Severus understood. The difficult problem was almost solved. There were only a few, crucial moves left, and all would be well.
"Ultimately, of course, there's only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
Snape raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Are you intending to let him kill you?"
"Certainly not. You must kill me."
There, he had said it. Severus sat motionless, dumbfounded. Dumbledore waited, afraid to breathe.
"Would you like me to do it now?" Severus finally asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"
Dumbledore could feel the smile move across face, starting at the corner of his mouth, moving out to his cheeks and then his eyes, spreading like the curse had spread earlier in the day. Severus understood. Severus comprehended the plan. Severus grasped his role in the larger workings of the universe.
Draco would be spared. Tom would be fooled. Harry would live to fight another day. Severus--well, Severus would have the chance to honor Lily's sacrifice, at last. He might have some doubts, but Dumbledore felt certain he would do the right thing when the time came.
What was one more life, in the grand scheme of things?
"Oh, not quite yet," Dumbledore replied, his heart filled with joy, his voice rough with unspoken gratitude, his eyes passing quickly over the horrified expression on Severus' face, focusing on the future. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course."
*
The following lines in this fic were taken from the American edition of Deathly Hallows, pp. 680-683:
"Why?" said Snape without preamble, "why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"
"I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…"
"It is a miracle you managed to return here!" Snape sounded furious. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being-"
"You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"
"I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."
"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."
"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time! Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"
"Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt…"
"Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."
"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
"Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
Snape raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked, "Are you intending to let him kill you?"
"Certainly not. You must kill me."
"Would you like me to do it now? asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"
"Oh, not quite yet," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course."
Author: magnetic_pole
Recipient gm_weasley
Prompt: The twelve uses of dragon's blood.
Summary: Lives saved and sacrificed for the greater good. Dumbledore's version of a scene Snape recalls in DH 33.
Word count: 1800
Warnings: Some massaging of canon. References to drug use.
"Hold still, almost done," Severus said, spreading the salve across his palm and down his wrist. Dumbledore's blackened hand felt as light and fragile as parchment. He flexed it experimentally, wincing. The pain was still very great.
"Dragon's blood and essence of murtlap," Dumbledore whispered. His voice was unexpectedly hoarse, as if he had not used it in a long time. "You knew."
"Of course I knew," Severus replied. "Twelve uses, all medicinal, all related to wounds caused by curses, dark creatures, dragons, and hate."
"All except one," Dumbledore said, speaking slowly through the pain. "It can also be added to a balm applied to the abdomen during childbirth."
Severus released his hand and glanced away. "This is not exactly childbirth," he said.
"You brought me back into the world," Dumbledore said. "The only thing missing is the nappies."
The left corner of Severus' mouth twitched. Dumbledore giggled like child. Then, finally overwhelmed by the morning's near-disaster, he fainted.
*
When Dumbledore woke, he was slumped in his chair, and Severus was pouring a thick, chalky liquid down his throat with unsteady hands. He swallowed and choked on the potion, and Severus pulled the goblet away.
"Why?" said Severus without preamble, "why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"
Why, indeed. The stone--like the wand and the cloak--was not to be touched. He had realized that years ago. The Hallows were for wizards who sought power, not for him. He merely tried to catch a glimpse of the larger plan, to work toward the greater good.
"I was a fool," Dumbledore said. "Sorely tempted..."
"Tempted by what?" Severus asked.
The image of his sister haunted Dumbledore. Surely he hadn't thought that he could see her again, bring her back? Even he wasn't capable of that. He had been tempted and found weak.
He sighed. The effects of the potion were already beginning to wear off, and his office faded in and out as the pain surged and receded.
Perhaps it would not be too great a failing...at times of great stress, like these...it hurt no one, really...
Unlike the Hallows. This was the key distinction. It hurt no one.
"Could I ask you to summon some Pepper-Up Potion, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered.
Severus disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a bottle and a small goblet, which he filled and placed on the desk in front of Dumbledore.
"Add two drops of dragon's blood and stir clockwise seven times," Dumbledore said.
"What?" Severus demanded, frowning. "Are you trying to die? After all that?"
"It's on the top shelf, in the silver cauldron," Dumbledore said. "Please."
Severus schooled his features into scorn and did as he was told. Dumbledore felt a rush of great affection for his friend. He drank quickly and set the goblet down, already relaxing, already sensing the familiar warmth spreading through his body.
"There was a thirteenth use," Dumbledore whispered, speaking the secret aloud for the very first time. "It has to do with joy."
Severus looked at him blankly, confused, and Dumbledore chuckled. Few wizards had as little use for joy as Severus Snape. Never mind, one day he would understand.
He closed his eyes.
*
In the grand scheme of things, this morning's mistake is not such a tragedy, Albus Dumbledore knows. With dragon's blood flowing through his veins, he remembers just how meaningful the universe is. How interconnected, how rational, how infinitely complex. It is filled with love, held together by trust and compassion.
It's like the world of the ancient sagas, with goblins and giants and elves and wizards all living side-by-side. It's like the world Gellert imagined, peaceful and orderly, filled with sunshine and healthy children. It's like the world Elphias hoped for, contained entirely in a tiny, perfect cottage just large enough for the two of them and all of their dreams.
In this world, there are no mistakes; all events make sense and lead toward a higher goal. It's like watching a difficult arithmancy problem solved, step by step, against the blue sky of a spring afternoon. It's like watching a cosmic chess game, in which you understand all the moves that need to be made, all the way to the end.
In this world, Dumbledore sees rare, magnificent things that he wishes he saw all the time: Alastor laying down his wand, Minerva letting down her hair, Severus laughing.
Ariana, whole and alive again.
Harry, with his parents.
Tom, filled with remorse.
*
"Headmaster!"
Tom and Harry, shaking hands.
"Headmaster!"
No, perhaps it's just Harry, alone, with Tom's troubled soul finally laid to rest.
"Dumbledore!"
The vision was fading. Dumbledore recognized the distant voice as one he knew and loved dearly.
"Dumbledore!" Severus was shaking him roughly.
Either way, it is a cosmic--what was the phrase?--a cosmic chess game, every move related to the next.
One only needs to look at the larger picture to understand what to be done.
"Please, Albus," Severus whispered. "Don't leave me."
Dumbledore opened his eyes and raised his head slowly. The room was still swimming, but the pain had receded somewhat.
"We'll sacrifice the queen, won't we?" he asked aloud, before he could stop himself.
He had needlessly frightened Severus, Dumbledore could see that. Severus was pacing near his desk, his hands clasped behind his back, fear twisting his face in an ugly way.
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said.
"That was insane," Severus said.
Foolhardy, Dumbledore agreed silently, trying to collect his thoughts. Dragon's blood had never had affected him that violently before. He typically took a single drop in a glass of pumpkin juice, sometimes a drop and a half. Whether the blackout had been caused by the extra half-drop or the Pepper-Up Potion or the after-effects of the curse, he couldn't say. He would have to experiment further, if he had time.
"I'm fine now," he said gently, and, indeed, he was. Even his hand hurt less. He still felt relaxed and lucid.
Severus glared at him.
"It's a miracle you managed to return here!" Severus sounded furious. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power. To contain it is all we can hope for. I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being--"
Dumbledore examined his blackened hand with a researcher's eye. The combination of dragon's blood and murtlap essence was remarkably effective. Not only was the pain receding, but the skin looked healthy, and his fingers were sore but flexible.
He would make a note of that tonight, after a hearty dinner and a few chocolate frogs. There was no point in dying thin, after all.
"You've done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"
"I can't tell," Severus said. "Maybe a year. There's no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it's the sort of curse that strengthens over time."
A year, that was so much more than he had expected. He smiled at Severus, his friend, his savior. The anger evident on Severus' face was only a sign of his fright; they would be reconciled soon enough. Severus was one of the few who had stayed with him over the years, who trusted him implicitly, who understood what it meant to work toward the greater good. Perhaps Lily Evans had done for him what dragon's blood had done for Dumbledore, allowed him to finally understand that there was a universe larger than one he experienced, and that he played a crucial role in lives other than his own. He felt a kinship with him he had never felt before. He would miss Severus Snape.
"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."
Still frightened, still preoccupied with the curse, Severus misunderstood.
"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time! Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"
Truth be told, Dumbledore had no idea what he had been thinking. He blamed that old urge to change the universe, rekindled after so many years.
"Something like that," he said. "I was delirious, no doubt. Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."
Still feeling somewhat light-headed, Dumbledore struggled to sit up in his chair. He needed to concentrate. There was no longer any time to waste.
He needed to start putting his things in order. The memories related to Tom Riddle, certainly; those were essential for Harry. The instructions for the next headmaster, the unfinished business at the Ministry. Perhaps it was finally time to publish his research on the thirteenth use of dragon's blood. The world needed a little more joy.
There would be sufficient time to arrange for the most important events, at least. The game was not yet finished. He had a vision of Tom and Harry, shaking hands--no, no, that wasn't right. He shook his head in an effort to clear it. Harry alone, Tom's soul finally at rest. That was where they were headed.
How to get there? The answer was simple, so simple. They would sacrifice the queen, and Harry would capture the king.
The pawn, who was Tom's pawn again? Draco. Draco Malfoy, who had been charged with a task he should never have to fulfill. Never mind, Severus could kill him instead. It was the perfect solution. Ah, how beautiful the plan was, when you looked at it from a distance and saw the complex pattern, the many lives that were all bound together in a single story.
Severus was still staring at him, eyes wary, lips pressed together in a thin line.
"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me," Dumbledore said. "His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
Severus looked mutinous, but Dumbledore held up a hand, asking for patience.
His head was still throbbing, but he leaned forward, inspecting Severus' face. He had to speak clearly, he had to be certain Severus understood. The difficult problem was almost solved. There were only a few, crucial moves left, and all would be well.
"Ultimately, of course, there's only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
Snape raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Are you intending to let him kill you?"
"Certainly not. You must kill me."
There, he had said it. Severus sat motionless, dumbfounded. Dumbledore waited, afraid to breathe.
"Would you like me to do it now?" Severus finally asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"
Dumbledore could feel the smile move across face, starting at the corner of his mouth, moving out to his cheeks and then his eyes, spreading like the curse had spread earlier in the day. Severus understood. Severus comprehended the plan. Severus grasped his role in the larger workings of the universe.
Draco would be spared. Tom would be fooled. Harry would live to fight another day. Severus--well, Severus would have the chance to honor Lily's sacrifice, at last. He might have some doubts, but Dumbledore felt certain he would do the right thing when the time came.
What was one more life, in the grand scheme of things?
"Oh, not quite yet," Dumbledore replied, his heart filled with joy, his voice rough with unspoken gratitude, his eyes passing quickly over the horrified expression on Severus' face, focusing on the future. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course."
*
The following lines in this fic were taken from the American edition of Deathly Hallows, pp. 680-683:
"Why?" said Snape without preamble, "why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?"
"I…was a fool. Sorely tempted…"
"It is a miracle you managed to return here!" Snape sounded furious. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being-"
"You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"
"I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."
"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."
"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I might have been able to do more, buy you more time! Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?"
"Something like that…I was delirious, no doubt…"
"Well, really, this makes matters much more straightforward."
"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."
"Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath."
Snape raised his eyebrows and his tone was sardonic as he asked, "Are you intending to let him kill you?"
"Certainly not. You must kill me."
"Would you like me to do it now? asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?"
"Oh, not quite yet," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course."