Eight Seconds
This is from Snape's pov. It goes back in forth a time, hope it's not too confusing.
GoF Spoilers!
November 13, 1987
I stared at the graves, my mind a million miles away. But nothing could erase one
thought from my mind. It was my fault. It always was.
Lily and James Potter: the Dark Lord's final victims, was how the newspapers
wrote it. I just called it a tragedy, as did all who knew them. They didn't deserve to die.
I was the one who had been serving Voldemort, and once more innocent people had paid
for my own sake. They'd been killed a week ago, but I could still see the scene before my
eyes with perfect clarity, no matter had much I wished I could permanently erase it from
my mind.
................................................................................................................................................
October 31, 1987
"They're- they're dead?!" Lupin's voice was full of pain. "They can't be,
not them, not now."
"It's true," Dumbledore said sadly. I just stood there, staring at the Potter's house
in disbelief. News of the tragedy had spread quickly, and Dumbledore had been called to
the site along with other Ministry officials. He had asked me to come along as well, 'to
have an unemotional opinion', as he put it, but I knew the real reason he wanted me here.
He knew that Voldemort would return, one day, and he wanted to show me this
last thing, let James Potter have his last triumph over me. No, that was not true. He
merely wanted to be sure of my loyalties. And he had them. I would never go back to
Voldemort. Not after this.
`He didn't want her!' I thought furiously. `He didn't need Lily, and he killed her
just for the sake of it. Because she wanted to protect her son.'
"Severus?" Dumbledore said softly, questioningly. I glanced over at him, forcing
myself to keep my emotions under control, to not show weakness.
"Yes?"
"Could you, um, look around for..." His voice trailed off, and he merely gestured
to the wreckage of what had been a beautiful house.
"Yeah, sure," I said casually. I headed for the wreckage and carefully stepped
inside. The house was near collapse, and I briefly considered how terribly ironic it would
be if I was killed when Potter's house collapsed. I started looking around, not quite sure
what I was looking for, but obedient to Dumbledore's wishes.
I continued down the hallway, ignoring the ominous creaking of the house around
me, and found myself in what had obviously been the nursery. I looked around the room,
and picked up a book off the floor. It was hand-written in Lily's delicate script. I read
through it quickly, committing the words inside to memory. Then I decided to keep it
with me; Lupin might... Why on earth was I concerned about Lupin's feelings?
`Because you're hurting too,' prompted a little voice in the back of my mind. And
much as I hated admitting it to myself, I was. `I had not liked them, I've lost nothing,' the
rational part of my mind insisted. That was true as well; Potter and I had not been friends
by any means, and I was not like the rest of the mindless idiots who'd spent their lives
adoring Lily. But already I missed the light-heartedness Lily brought to everything she
did; missed the michevious glint in Potter's eyes when he'd thought up a good prank.
I walked back out into the hallway and continued toward the back door. And
halfway there I found the one thing I'd hoped not to find. Lily's body.
I stopped abruptly, feeling slightly light-headed. I was used to fear, to pain, but
never, never, had I been through this. This was why I had turned spy for Dumbledore;
this was why I spent each and every day in fear of discovery. So I wouldn't have to look
at something like this and know that I had caused it, that I was responsible.
But I couldn't just leave her here. I carefully picked her up and carried her
outside. It wasn't difficult; I was easily strong enough to carry her without trouble.
Dumbledore and Remus were waiting at the door.
"Oh my God," Remus whispered, staring at the still form in my arms.
Dumbledore conjured up a stretcher, and I gently placed Lily on it. A few of the Hit
Wizards came over and carried the stretcher away. Remus fainted.
I caught him as he reeled backward. "Oh, for heaven's sakes," I grumbled.
"Give him time, Severus," Albus said slowly. "He was one of their closest
friends, you know."
"Lupin, wake up," I ordered, shaking him. No response. "Remus Lupin!"
"Wha-" he mumbled, confused. Then he realized what was going on, and pulled
away from me swiftly. "Er, sorry about that," he said, embarrassed. "I normally don't
pass out like that, it's just that they were so happy, and it's so awful, and-"
"You don't have to explain anything to me," I said sternly. "Forget it. Preferably,
as quickly as possible."
"Thanks."
"Like I said, don't mention it. Ever."
"Was there anything else in the house, Severus?" The headmaster interrupted.
"Actually, yes." I handed the book I'd found to Lupin. "That was in the baby's
room. I think it looks like Lily's writing, but I'm not sure." He flipped open the little
book and read the first few pages.
"This means a lot to me," he said quietly. "This was one of the songs Lily used to
sing to Harry all the time."
"Keep it, then, to remember them by. No one will mind." But as I looked at the
house before me, I knew I didn't need a book to remember this, the one night when
everything I thought was true suddenly didn't seem important anymore. When life itself
suddenly seemed all that much more precious. When all that mattered were those eight
seconds Voldemort had needed to do the curses that had killed the Potters.
................................................................................................................................................
Present (post GoF)
I stood looking over the graves, thinking about the past, and my future. I had just
been asked to do what had almost gotten me killed before. Be a spy for Dumbledore. I
would refuse, but...
But I had sworn to protect Harry, the night his parents died. I'd known, even then,
that he would be coming to Hogwarts; that Voldemort would not simply leave the last
Potter in peace. And I, fool that I was, would have to go back. Not for me, but for the
one person I despised beyond all else, but that I would die for, should things come to that.
"Are you happy, James?" I said out loud. "Is this what you want? Will this
finally make us even?" But I knew it wouldn't. Nothing could make us even. Because
the Potter's had saved my life that night, whether they knew it or not. I had been about to
go back to Lord Voldemort for good the night they were attacked.
This is from Snape's pov. It goes back in forth a time, hope it's not too confusing.
GoF Spoilers!
November 13, 1987
I stared at the graves, my mind a million miles away. But nothing could erase one
thought from my mind. It was my fault. It always was.
Lily and James Potter: the Dark Lord's final victims, was how the newspapers
wrote it. I just called it a tragedy, as did all who knew them. They didn't deserve to die.
I was the one who had been serving Voldemort, and once more innocent people had paid
for my own sake. They'd been killed a week ago, but I could still see the scene before my
eyes with perfect clarity, no matter had much I wished I could permanently erase it from
my mind.
................................................................................................................................................
October 31, 1987
"They're- they're dead?!" Lupin's voice was full of pain. "They can't be,
not them, not now."
"It's true," Dumbledore said sadly. I just stood there, staring at the Potter's house
in disbelief. News of the tragedy had spread quickly, and Dumbledore had been called to
the site along with other Ministry officials. He had asked me to come along as well, 'to
have an unemotional opinion', as he put it, but I knew the real reason he wanted me here.
He knew that Voldemort would return, one day, and he wanted to show me this
last thing, let James Potter have his last triumph over me. No, that was not true. He
merely wanted to be sure of my loyalties. And he had them. I would never go back to
Voldemort. Not after this.
`He didn't want her!' I thought furiously. `He didn't need Lily, and he killed her
just for the sake of it. Because she wanted to protect her son.'
"Severus?" Dumbledore said softly, questioningly. I glanced over at him, forcing
myself to keep my emotions under control, to not show weakness.
"Yes?"
"Could you, um, look around for..." His voice trailed off, and he merely gestured
to the wreckage of what had been a beautiful house.
"Yeah, sure," I said casually. I headed for the wreckage and carefully stepped
inside. The house was near collapse, and I briefly considered how terribly ironic it would
be if I was killed when Potter's house collapsed. I started looking around, not quite sure
what I was looking for, but obedient to Dumbledore's wishes.
I continued down the hallway, ignoring the ominous creaking of the house around
me, and found myself in what had obviously been the nursery. I looked around the room,
and picked up a book off the floor. It was hand-written in Lily's delicate script. I read
through it quickly, committing the words inside to memory. Then I decided to keep it
with me; Lupin might... Why on earth was I concerned about Lupin's feelings?
`Because you're hurting too,' prompted a little voice in the back of my mind. And
much as I hated admitting it to myself, I was. `I had not liked them, I've lost nothing,' the
rational part of my mind insisted. That was true as well; Potter and I had not been friends
by any means, and I was not like the rest of the mindless idiots who'd spent their lives
adoring Lily. But already I missed the light-heartedness Lily brought to everything she
did; missed the michevious glint in Potter's eyes when he'd thought up a good prank.
I walked back out into the hallway and continued toward the back door. And
halfway there I found the one thing I'd hoped not to find. Lily's body.
I stopped abruptly, feeling slightly light-headed. I was used to fear, to pain, but
never, never, had I been through this. This was why I had turned spy for Dumbledore;
this was why I spent each and every day in fear of discovery. So I wouldn't have to look
at something like this and know that I had caused it, that I was responsible.
But I couldn't just leave her here. I carefully picked her up and carried her
outside. It wasn't difficult; I was easily strong enough to carry her without trouble.
Dumbledore and Remus were waiting at the door.
"Oh my God," Remus whispered, staring at the still form in my arms.
Dumbledore conjured up a stretcher, and I gently placed Lily on it. A few of the Hit
Wizards came over and carried the stretcher away. Remus fainted.
I caught him as he reeled backward. "Oh, for heaven's sakes," I grumbled.
"Give him time, Severus," Albus said slowly. "He was one of their closest
friends, you know."
"Lupin, wake up," I ordered, shaking him. No response. "Remus Lupin!"
"Wha-" he mumbled, confused. Then he realized what was going on, and pulled
away from me swiftly. "Er, sorry about that," he said, embarrassed. "I normally don't
pass out like that, it's just that they were so happy, and it's so awful, and-"
"You don't have to explain anything to me," I said sternly. "Forget it. Preferably,
as quickly as possible."
"Thanks."
"Like I said, don't mention it. Ever."
"Was there anything else in the house, Severus?" The headmaster interrupted.
"Actually, yes." I handed the book I'd found to Lupin. "That was in the baby's
room. I think it looks like Lily's writing, but I'm not sure." He flipped open the little
book and read the first few pages.
"This means a lot to me," he said quietly. "This was one of the songs Lily used to
sing to Harry all the time."
"Keep it, then, to remember them by. No one will mind." But as I looked at the
house before me, I knew I didn't need a book to remember this, the one night when
everything I thought was true suddenly didn't seem important anymore. When life itself
suddenly seemed all that much more precious. When all that mattered were those eight
seconds Voldemort had needed to do the curses that had killed the Potters.
................................................................................................................................................
Present (post GoF)
I stood looking over the graves, thinking about the past, and my future. I had just
been asked to do what had almost gotten me killed before. Be a spy for Dumbledore. I
would refuse, but...
But I had sworn to protect Harry, the night his parents died. I'd known, even then,
that he would be coming to Hogwarts; that Voldemort would not simply leave the last
Potter in peace. And I, fool that I was, would have to go back. Not for me, but for the
one person I despised beyond all else, but that I would die for, should things come to that.
"Are you happy, James?" I said out loud. "Is this what you want? Will this
finally make us even?" But I knew it wouldn't. Nothing could make us even. Because
the Potter's had saved my life that night, whether they knew it or not. I had been about to
go back to Lord Voldemort for good the night they were attacked.