Chapter 18 - Chilling Liberation

Dear readers,

Whatever happens in this chapter serves the plot. I can only urge you to re-read Chapter 10. You will see that whatever I have planned is intimated there.

Re: Complaints on the so-called "lack of continuity between chs 16-17

Many thanks for all your emails. I have received over 20 emails, mostly vituperative ones, on my structure for BT&S. The story still flows by the way from chapter 16 to chapter 17. And if you fail to see why, I will explain.

Why does everyone assume that the author must tell you everything that happens? *sigh* Chapter 16, RL, AD, HG and SS are preparing to being SS back. Chapter 17, HG fails. It is intentional. Why? It serves the plot? How? Plot structure. What do I mean? What is unsaid is more powerful than what is said. Evidence: Constant reference to Xenophon who was famed for this.

BT&S is written with more structure in mind. We are directly told anything that the author doesn't want you to immediately know. You're supposed to think it through. For those who decry my plot and say that i lead them on with false hope, should refer to chapter 10, the midpoint. In that chapter, I make my intentions known very clearly. And what is one of the central themes? Everything happens for a reason. And when some things happen, there is no turning back the clock to remedy it. Que sera sera

Let us return to chapters 16 and 17. Ch 16, they are preparing to bring SS back; Ch 17, HG fails to bring SS back. Underlining question that is implied but not said - how and why did she fail? Was it the method? Is that why we are not shown the method? Questions like this should be in the readers' mind. The political philosophical message is intentional.

Re: Complaints on the difficulties of the dialectic and didactic plot structure

To the 30 odd readers who complain that the plot and the meaning of the story is too philosophical to understand, let me stress: It is not philosophical; it's political philosophical. I am not a philosopher, BUT a political philosopher. There is a difference. Philosophy is the quest for the truth. Philosophy is necessarily preceded by opinions about the whole. Political philosophy is the quest for knowledge. Political philosophy seeks to replace opinions about the whole by knowledge of whole. The theme of political philosophy is mankind's great objectives, freedom and government or empire objectives which are capable of lifting all men beyond their poor selves. Political philosophy is that branch of both politics and philosophy closest to political life, to non-philosophic life, to human life. In short, political philosophy is the attempt to replace opinion about the nature of political things (such as life – life is surprisingly political) by knowledge of the nature of political things. Political philosophy is the attempt to truly know the nature of both political things and the right, or the good political order. The school (of thought) that I subscribe to believes that political philosophy was identical with political science, and it was the all-embracing study of human affairs. Today, however, we find it separated into the various fields in the arts and the social sciences – literature, language, history, geography, war studies, sociology, anthropology, music, rhetoric, economics, social psychology, political science and philosophy. Political Philosophers belong to political science departments (unless one is in Canada, there, some philosophy departments will be happy to take these individuals on). Political Philosophers do not like to claim that they teach 'political thought' or 'political theory'. We do not teach, we lecture, we discuss and we talk. I cannot stress this other point enough – a political thinker is NOT a political philosopher because he is interested in, or attached to a specific order or policy. The political philosopher, in contrast, is primarily interested in the veracity of knowledge. Political thought is NOT political philosophy because it is expressed in laws and codes and tracts and speeches inter alia. Political philosophy expresses itself in poetry and the treatise.

I trust that I have made myself abundantly clear.

This story is meant to engage the reader to think. the other theme is dealing with thymos, or spiritedness. Or in this case, it can be translated to anger. And this fits in with chs 17-19.

I hope this clarifies matters.

Lady Strange

A/N: For simplicity's sake, titles of books, journals etc (fictitious or otherwise) are underlined and emphases are italicised.

Beyond Time and Space

Chapter 18 – Chilling Liberation

The next day brought Severus in Dumbledore's office. He went there with Minerva McGonagall, to whom and to Dumbledore, he seemed to take very cordially. His own inherent neediness at his mother's death resulted in his turning to a woman who had never cast him out. Such was Minerva's temper and manners that Severus had nothing disagreeable to say about her. It appeared that he had been sitting with her in her rooms till her usual tea session with her husband. He had wondered at their ability to distinguish between their private and profession lives. Their maintenance of their private apartments proved that even the most affectionate couples needed time by themselves. He had always wondered how two people as different as night and day like Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall put up with each other. He was a mixture of odd tempers and was extremely meddlesome, a true jack-of-all-trades. He was often sanguine to a fault and had the propensity to see humour in almost every grave situation. Minerva, on the other hand, was stoic and quiet. She was constantly serious and disliked demonstrating her emotions. Yet, despite their differences, Dumbledore and Minerva shared more than companionable amity. He was the only one who could make her laugh at herself. He was the only one able to calm her during her flights of impotent fury. He only need utter a word and she would leave an adverse situation to his discretion. On her part, she was the only person able to silence the boisterous Headmaster with a look. Only she could confiscate his sweets without drawing a complaint from him. Only she had the patience to listen to his ideas and circumlocutions without losing the gist of his thesis. Dumbledore only trusted her to write his important speeches. All in all, it was a good partnership, different though they were.

Severus had been completely astonished when Minerva revealed her marital status to him during one of the evening parties thrown in his honour. Apparently, it was still a secret. Dumbledore was trying to circumvent the rules of the school's governors who feared fraternising faculty members would lead to a conflict of interest. He was somehow touched by her gesture; it meant that she trusted him with her secret. In all his years, Severus never had anyone other than Dumbledore and Minerva trusting him implicitly.

"Will I be imposing on your tea with the Headmaster?" Severus asked again for the fifth time on their stroll to Dumbledore's office.

"You've acquired manners! I'm proud of you," she answered dryly in that thin-lipped way of hers.

"You think she's received an accurate assessment of my interest?" he spoke quietly, turning whiter than white.

"There can be no doubt of your regard," she replied, stopping before the stone gargoyle. "Hichews!" she commanded and it slid away.

"Sweetness!" a voice thick with mirth called out. "You're early!"

Minerva rolled her eyes as her lips thinned in displeasure. "Severus, my boy, help me up the stairs."

He offered his arm to his secondary maternal figure and soon came to Dumbledore's unusually disordered office.

"Ah, my boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed, his eyes twinkling in a mischievous wink as he helped his lady sit down. "I have never been able to return my rooms to normal after your redecoration effort."

"Albus!" Minerva swatted his arm playfully. "Don't tease Severus; it was only a prank."

"You said 'prank' with a straight face. That calls for a reward! You get to pick what sweets I order next month."

Minerva harrumphed indignantly and poured herself two cups of tea and offered one to her husband.

"Hichew?" The Headmaster proffered his confectionary bag. "Sweetness? Severus? No!"

"It sticks to my teeth; it's rather ghastly!" she sniffed as elegantly as a cat.

"It has ninety percent fruit juice or so I've been told."

"I will return later," said Severus curtly, uncomfortable at witnessing the domestic scene without being able to suppress a longing for something similar.

"Stay!" they both insisted, pressing him with such earnest treaty that he grudgingly remained.

"Let me just convey some news to Minerva and you shall have my undivided attention," Dumbledore began, after gesturing him to sit. Then he addressed his wife, "There is nothing about faculty members marrying. The conflict of interest will only occur if one party has links and affiliations to the Ministry and one party is affiliated to another school. Since neither one of us has such links, we are in the clear, as muggles say."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Your place in the Wizengamot..."

Dumbledore interposed her objections with, "Arthur has decided to separate the Wizengamot from the Ministry. I have already given up all my ministry rights, my dearest one."

"You dear man!" she cried and catching herself before she acted rashly out of character, she smiled stiffly and squeezed her husband's hand affectionately.

"No reward for me?" he asked, tapping his left cheek with his long index finger.

"No," she firmly declared, her smile fading from her thin lips.

He shrugged in feigned disappointment. "I've married a prude," he chuckled, earning a silent reproachful look from his wife. "Now, Severus, what can I do for you?"

"It's about Hermione," his wife interjected, picking up a sugared almond and offering it to Fawkes.

"Among other things," Severus hastily added. Dumbledore signalled him to continue. "I am worried about Professor Granger's state of mind."

"She has a proper name, my boy; you cannot call her by her title forever!" chuckled the Headmaster as he absentmindedly offered Severus some biscuits. "I shall address her accordingly so long as we are in public. I know what is due to her."

"And yet, you keep her waiting? That's not chivalrous!" responded Minerva.

"Chivalry indeed!" spat the Potions Masters.

Dumbledore carefully questioned, "Why are you concerned? Her spirits will rally again and she will soon have another scheme to resurrect you. Who knows – it might work?"

"You don't seem to have much confidence in her abilities. Perhaps that's the reason for her recent anxiety attack!" hissed Severus quietly, folding his arms in anger.

"Has it occurred to you that you cannot return to life? Your body is dead; how are you able to institute your soul to a body where everything no longer functions!" Dumbledore reasoned softly.

"Allowances have to be made, I presume, my senses are still with me, my brain isn't dead," he said quietly, earning him emphatic smiles from the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. "Once my soul is in my body again, I shall be able to animate it."

"Exactly! Animate the corpse, not live again. Your life force no longer lies within your body; yours has fled almost exclusively to your spirit. Dee's Necromancy would have worked if you did not return as a ghost. Resurrections are simple procedures. They work because the spirit or soul was slumbering within the psyche. Your psyche has left your body, as has your soul – together, you have become almost like a living entity, only one that is without a body."

Severus considered the words of his former mentor, tracing his lips. He furrowed his brow as if weighing the options. "Did not Rizzo write that it is possible to bring the dead back when the soul has separated itself from the corporeal body."

"Nietzsche proved him wrong. He hinted as much when he said, 'The faith in immediate certainties is a moral naïveté that reflects honour on wizards. Apart from morality, this faith is a stupidity that reflects little honour on us.' How can you account for that?"

"He never tried," snarled Severus, incensed.

"Nostradamus jumbled his passages because he knew he could not write consistently and expect muggles to understand. Similarly, Nietzsche scrambled his passages." Dumbledore turned to his wife. "Sweetness, do you recall the independence tirade in Nietzsche?"

Minerva frowned, finished her tea and pondered for a moment. "He says something to the effect of – Independence is for the very few. Those who attempt it even with the best right but without inner constraint prove that he is not strong. Instead, it proves him reckless."

"Thank you, dear." Dumbledore winked at his wife, who returned to nibbling on a sandwich. "You and Hermione are like this man Nietzsche describes. He has tried resurrecting something and he failed. He says that such a person who attempts to resurrect a corpse when its ghost is already present 'enters a labyrinth where he loses his way, becomes lonely and is torn piecemeal by the grief of the survivor's conscience.' Do you want that to happen to you or Hermione?"

Severus looked up at the Headmaster, the lines on his face more prominent than usual. His eyes expressed pain and sorrow. "How can I discourage her when she is so happy researching into methods and incantations? You have seen how she cried when she failed. I rather be miserable and dead than see her like this. I have no patience for a woman's tears! She is so attentive in her work – I do not think it prudent to take it away from her."

"Then do what you do best," said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. "You're one of the best we've had. Think of yourself first before making your move."

"That's enough Phineas," warned Dumbledore, as Severus formed a steeple with his fingers. "Just ask yourself these questions: why do you want to return? Is that reason worth it? Will you be able to live with yourself if your plan falls through? Will you be willing to take this second chance at life? If you answer 'yes' to all these..."

Severus laughed in a cruel and frightening manner, startling Minerva.

"For her, Dumbledore! Surely, you've noticed, you like being...involved," he spat. "Do you think she'll even consider me like this? Can I teach my classes effectively like this? Can I terrorise my students in my body instead of having some crazed idiots fawn over me when I'm not around? Can I have students fainting at my threats rather than my appearance?"

"I see," said Dumbledore, stroking his phoenix's head and exchanging looks with his wife. "Have you told her?"

With her eyes still riveted on Severus, Minerva whispered to her husband, "He claims he's made himself quite plain."

"Does she care enough for him to warrant his temper?" Dumbledore asked in an aside between surreptitious coughs.

"She does."

"Yes, Remus told me as much too," mumbled the Headmaster thoughtfully. "Severus, perhaps you should ascertain her views on you as you are now."

"How could she?" he sneered, curling his lips in self-contempt. "I know what I am – she sees me as an assignment."

"Silly boy! Ask her!" commanded Minerva.

"Have you noticed how she is when you're around?" interjected Dumbledore.

"I have," said Severus silkily with a composure of voice under which was concealed an emotion and distress beyond anything he had ever felt. He was mortified, shocked and confounded. "The most powerful witch of the last century, Emily Dickinson, wrote that the letting go is the most difficult to accomplish. Tell her about the impossibility of resurrecting you. You may stay if you like, but I advise you," Dumbledore's voice faltered at that juncture. He was so overcome that he only found his voice a few minutes later. "I advise you to let go. Your body is dead; your soul can move on – let it move on. Let go. "

"How can I when I still have my duties here!" protested Severus gruffly, scowling menacingly at his colleagues.

"Death is the next big adventure, Severus. My old friend, Flamel was the same, but even he chose to let go."

"Are you capable of understanding human speech, Headmaster? I want to continue as I am. Professor Granger can continue to hide in my library for all I care, though I do not know how I can endure her insufferable carping!" He scowled, his mood darkening dramatically.

"Selfish! Selfish!" scolded Dumbledore sadly, removing his half-moon glasses in exhaustion. "What happens when she dies? Will you mourn for her for an eternity? She may not return as a ghost; she may not return at all. She has seen death and is no longer afraid of it. I believe she will embrace it. Do you think it's fair for her to watch you remain as you are while she ages? Will it be fair to you after she's gone? Think, Severus, think!"

"And what will talking to her accomplish?" Severus asked in a dangerous tone, his lips curling disdainfully.

"Sound her out before you decide – it must be fair to the both of you," insisted Dumbledore tremulously, holding his wife's hand.

"Whatever it is," added Minerva, her eyes glistening strangely though her voice was steady. "You will always have a place in our hearts."

Dumbledore nodded. "Sometimes, it takes more courage to walk away from an enchanting possibility so that the other will be accorded respect."

Severus bowed at the two coldly, betraying nothing. He was still stunned with the knowledge that all of Hermione's experiments to resurrect him would meet with failure. Was there no hope for him at obtaining contentment then? His self-reproach and continued mortification wrecked his mind. Fortunately for him, he had soon reached their rooms. Their rooms, he thought, frowning. To think that he had been once possessive of it! He would gladly surrender his apartments to her if it would resurrect him. However, he knows he was asking for the impossible. At the doors and stone gargoyle to their chambers, his internal struggle could cease and be continued no further. He sighed heavily before rearranging his features to his best disdainful Potions Master smirk and entered the rooms.

Footnotes:

The conversation here is based on Nietzsche'sThe Birth of Tragedy and Beyond Good and Evil.