SUMMARY: ... ... Nah, I'm not going to give a summary, since it's your basic plot: try to overthrow Voldemort. :) Takes place from the start of Harry's fifth year and, unlike the books, deals more with the adults and Draco than with Harry (he gets enough fanfic time, don't you think?)

DISCLAIMER: If you'd like to read the histories of some of the characters in this story, check out JK Rowling's "Harry Potter" series care of Scholastic books. I in no way own any of the characters in this story besides Haley and Aiylea/Leah, who are my creations. Cheers!



Fifteen years ago


The screaming died away. Voldemort stood up slowly, wiping his hands on his robes as he glared at the muggle family strewn across the dark clearing. "I doubt," he hissed, his lip curling to form a sneer, "these animals will give us any more fun."

Moans and harsh breathing coming from below him lent credence to the Dark Lord's words. Of the victims only the smallest, a little girl no older than six, seemed to still be aware and, mostly, unharmed. Her mother lay in a muddy, sodden heap at Voldemort's feet, her mind broken from the pain and hideous entertainments she had been forced to perform. Not too far away from them lay the father, his face contorted in death as it had been in his last moments - pure agony.

"Severus, Augustus, finish off this rabble," Voldemort murmured, waving his hand airily as he turned away. Augustus McNair, a malicious grin creasing his features, stepped toward the mother and raised his wand. A sudden movement flickered before him, and the Death Eater raised an eyebrow as he saw the child suddenly between him and the mother.

"Don't you hurt my mama!" the little girl yelled, glaring up at McNair.

Annoyance flashed across the man's face and he lashed out, kicking the child hard beneath the ribs. It landed in a crumpled heap six feet away and Avery trained his wand again on the mother. "Avada kedavra!" he grit out, and with a green flash of light the mother ceased her moaning.

"MAMA!" Unable to fully stand and in obvious pain, the little girl started crawling towards her mother and McNair, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, trained his wand on her.

"No, Augustus," Voldemort whispered; at the words the Death Eater immediately backed away. Voldemort's gaze slanted to the black-haired wizard who had also stepped tentatively forward. "She is Severus' responsibility now."

McNair glared at the ground, irritated at being denied the pleasure of killing but moved anyway, allowing Snape to come forward.

"Finish her off Severus," Voldemort practically purred, enjoying the play of emotions on his servant's face. "After all, it would be cruel to let her live after all...this." The last was said mockingly, as the look of anticipation on his face belied the caring quality of the words.

The dark haired man, known among his compatriots for not having a voracious appetite for death, stepped forward, raising his wand so that its tip was inches from the young girl's face.

She had finally reached her mother, and seemed to not understand why the dead woman wouldn't wake up. Tears streaking her face, she looked up at Snape and the wand, fully aware of its power. A terrified confusion had filled her wide eyes as, for the first time, she faced death...and still unknowingly faced it inches away. Brown eyes stared up at Snape, desperately seeking an answer.

Something in Snape's mind snapped, and his body rebelled. The hand holding the wand began to tremble, and though Snape's mouth opened as if to speak he couldn't seem to get any words out. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, then tried again, but his eyes stayed locked with those of the girl and again nothing came out.

"Is there a problem Severus?" Voldemort asked, his voice utterly devoid of any emotion.

Sweat broke out on Snape's brow as he struggled to appear normal. The problem was, unless he performed the death curse on the child there would be no normal, only direct disobedience on his part. Avada kedavra, avada kedavra, his mind chanted desperately, but his mouth refused to cooperate. Her or me, her or me, he tried to rationalize, but the eyes held him, awash with tears as she cradled her mother's head on her lap. Her...or me.

"What will it be, Severus?" Voldemort's voice rang out, and cold fingers seemed to slither down Snape's spine. He knew what would be coming, no matter what his next move was; the delay in any type of response had been too long, something he knew must never happen with Voldemort. His gaze still on the child, he managed to get himself back in line...just barely. His eyes turned cold, and beneath him the little girl's eyes widened in real fear. "Perhaps," Snape answered smoothly, a thoughtful tone to his voice, "it would be worse to allow her to live." It was too late, he knew, to divert Voldemort; even in his own mind Snape knew the argument was pointless but it bought time to think. "Having to deal with the horror of her parents' humiliation and deaths would be much richer than simply killing her off..."

"Which is what I ordered you to --," Voldemort started, but a loud pop interrupted and Nevarre Bulstrode apparated suddenly beside Voldemort.

The burly man immediately prostrated himself before his master, but before he could even be acknowledged he burst out, "Ministry aurors are on their way. They've managed to follow our trail and will be here any instant!"

The information sent a shockwave through the assembled group. At this news many of the wizards in the clearing immediately disapparated, seemingly of the flawed mindset that what the ministry could do to them was worse than Voldemort's wrath. Those who knew Voldemort and his views on weakness stayed put, anxiously awaiting their Master's instruction. Voldemort seemed to take the news lightly, his gaze unaffected as he eyed the remaining witches and wizards in the dark meadow. Most wore anxious expressions, clearly like their compatriots wishing to be anywhere but there, yet their fear of Voldemort kept them from taking flight.

"Good," the dark wizard said after a moment, his hard voice resonating. "You all know what to do."

Popping noises immediately filled the air as en masse the group of death eaters took flight. Even Voldemort, despite his apparent calmness after the news, didn't linger long at the site. "Finish this," he hissed to Snape, but the dark look he sent Snape an instant before disapparating promised punishment.

Snape stayed an instant longer than the rest, his eyes still on the girl. When the wizards had begun disapparating her eyes had finally left his in bewilderment, but his wand remained steadily pointed at her. "Obliviate," he muttered, and didn't wait any longer to see the blank look overtake her face before disapparating to the pre-planned location. To put it off any longer would be giving his brain more time to convince him to flee, and that was something he wouldn't do. He had gotten himself into this, and he would see it through to the bitter, painful end. To put off the confrontation was cowardly and weak, and would ultimately make any punishment a great many times worse. And for Snape, such cowardice was NOT be tolerated.

The minute he apparated he braced himself and reached out to a crumbling brick in the wall opposite him, the portkey to his final destination. He had cast the die, and he would pay the piper. It still didn't stop the cold feeling he got as the portkey jerked him to where the Dark Lord and his fellow supporters were.

And, as promised, the instant Snape arrived punishment like nothing he had ever experienced began.


Dumbledore registered the fact that he had a visitor when his first layer of shields was breached. The identity of the individual was confirmed by the second shield, but the Headmaster had no clue as to his midnight visitor's condition until he opened the door.

Snape, who had practically been crawling along the walls to walk, collapsed through the doorway and into Dumbledore's astonished arms, his body twitching uncontrollably. Fawkes gave a startled warble and took flight, darting out of the room through a small window high in the tower wall. The Headmaster quickly shut the door, secured the bolts, and brought the younger man to rest on his couch. Magically conjuring up a wet towel, he began dabbing Snape's forehead gently, willing color to come back into those cheeks and the horror to leave the eyes.

Gradually, over the course of several minutes, Snape's tremors subsided. Dumbledore, taking note of Fawkes' departure, laid a blanket over his former student's trembling body and said softly, "It's been a while, hasn't it Severus. I had almost given up ever seeing you again."

Snape coughed, his eyes bulging as he struggled to keep a hold of himself until the fit subsided. "You...know me, Professor," he croaked finally, swallowing spasmatically. "I like to make...grand entrances."

"Grand, yes," Dumbledore murmured, his lips tugging in the corners. "What, pray tell, brought about your return tonight?"

A shudder passed through Snape, and between one blink and the next a tortured look of such magnitude it nearly broke Dumbledore's heart took root in the dark eyes. Disturbed at what could have nearly broken the sarcastic, introverted young man he had tought a handful of years prior, the Headmaster again dabbed Snape's forehead with the damp cloth.

"Professor," Snape choked out, grabbing Dumbledore's hand very suddenly; the Headmaster didn't pull away but gave the hand a comforting squeeze. The small signal seemed to relax Snape slightly, although the tortured look never left his eyes. "Professor," he began again, swallowing, "there is something I need to tell you...something I need you to know about me..."