Chapter 1
Resurrection
There was a loud gasp as his mouth opened to let in a burst of damp, stale air. The very feeling of it seemed to burn his throat and his lungs. He could not open his eyes, or were they already open? He could not tell, but he assumed he was in complete darkness. That thought was more comforting than the idea of being blind. As he attempted to turn, to move, he realized he could not. It was as if some force was keeping him down, but he wondered what it was. He spent a few moments thinking of every spell he could that may cause such reactions in the human body. He could not think of something that would leave him paralyzed for an extended period of time. Not only that, but he could not recall anyone casting a spell on him at all. Actually, he was finding it hard to remember much of anything that may have lead to this. There was a moment of panic as he tried to think about what may have caused all of this.
His memories were that of Hogwarts, classes, his fellow professors… But nothing recent, at least, that's what he assumed. One does not just end up in a dark place, unable to move, not without just cause.
He tried to lift his arms, but they felt heavy, like bricks were tied to them. Same thing with his fingers, legs and toes. The only thing he felt like he could do right now was breath, and each breathe felt like it was going to start his lungs ablaze.
After what seemed to him like an eternity, his lungs finally stopped burning, at least, not as badly. He felt like this may be a good time to see if he could use his extremities again. His attempts were much better this time. There was not much movement, but he could twist his wrists and flex his fingers. The effort was tiring for such little results, but it was better than nothing.
His hands slowly slid against the soft surface they rest upon. It felt like silk, but it also felt worn out and covered in a layer of dust, or perhaps it was dirt. Vision had still not returned, so he had to rely on his other senses.
That was when he felt it, cold and smooth beneath his fingertips. A smile crossed his lips, or at least, he tried to smile. It was almost as if the muscles in his body were no longer existent. That would make sense, why he couldn't move them, why they felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. There was no spell to accomplish such a result, not on the long term scale. Then again, he didn't know if this was long term or not.
The worst part was the uncertainty, the not knowing, the sinking feeling of helplessness that came from within his chest as he struggled to figure out where he was. Each breath continued to get easier and less painful. He tried again to open his eyes, and this time he could feel them open, but nothing changed. There was still nothing but complete darkness around him. Was it really dark, or was he blind? Was this another effect of what ever curse he was under? He could not tell, not yet.
He lifted his left hand and was pleased when it left the soft fabric beneath it. He struggled and could feel his whole arm trembling as he lifted it, but it suddenly stopped. The back of his hand hit another soft, fabric surface and his heart sank. He slid his hand across the low ceiling and then down the side until it arrived back in its starting position against the floor.
This was a coffin. Someone had paralyzed him and then buried him alive. How torturous "… But wait…" He used his left hand and wrapped his fingers around the smooth, polished wooden object. The feeling of confusion washed over him again. When your goal is to bury someone alive, and ultimately torture them to death in the cruelest way possible, you do not bury them with their wand.
None of this seemed to add up. Who would do such a cruel thing, let alone as a joke? Did he really have enemies who hated him so deeply. Of course he did. He could only imagine that it was a former student who was still bitter from his harsh lectures and strict grading system.
None of this mattered, not yet. What did matter, now that he knew where he was, he knew that there would only be so much time to get out. Air supply would be limited in such a small area. He did not know how long he had been here, or how much of his oxygen he had already used.
"H… H-hello…" He said softly to himself. His voice sounded very tired and far from himself. It also seemed to end very abruptly, making him wonder if he had spoken at all, or if he just imagined it. He needed to know if his voice worked, it was the only way he was going to get out of this.
He lifted his wand the best he could and waved it. He thought of the single place he remembered most clearly. He held the image within his mind and finally managed to speak.
"Portus" He spoke confidently, his voice finally having returned to him. He could feel the magic around him then. It seemed to make him feel stronger, or at least more comforted. This meant that there were no barriers, courses, or locking spells placed upon his prison.
He touched the walls and could feel himself spinning, or rather, he could feel the coffin around him spinning. He closed his eyes tightly, not like it made a difference other than in his mind. After only a few seconds, everything went very still. He placed both of his hands upon the lid of the box, and was feeling much stronger now. He pushed, and the lid opened with ease. He groaned softly as he sat up and pushed the lid completely open. Small handfuls of dirt fell upon him as they fell from the lid, but it did not bother him. He finally threw the lid aside and sat up, but he was not where he had expected to be.
He had imagined the most serene place, the place that he knew like no other… His old room. His room at Hogwarts, but that was no where to be seen. There were no shelves of books, or tables full of ingredients.
There was just woods, and darkness, but he could see now. There was some moonlight trickling through the branches of the trees. His heart sank for a moment upon realizing where he was.
The dark forest was not his ideal place, not in his current state. He slowly stood up, but his legs felt like jelly beneath him. After a few moments of grasping the sides of the coffin for stability, he managed to stand on his own.
If he did not know of the horrors that lurked in every corner of this forest, he would believe it to be quite beautiful. The way the white moonlight was shining down upon the dark tree's, making them look like crystal. He took a small breath and smiled as it did not burn his lungs. The smell of dirt and wood filled his nose and it was positively delightful. He slowly stepped out of the coffin and looked around, still holding his wand tightly in his right hand.
He looked around, and could hear creatures moving in the distance. This was a good sign. When silence fell, then there would be trouble. He looked up at the sky, trying to see the stars through the branches, but he got a general sense of what direction he had to go in order to find where he wanted to go.
His first few steps were very shaky and uneasy, as if he were a toddler, simply learning to walk. The feeling did not last. It only took a minute or two for his legs to remember how to move properly. They still felt weak and heavy, but no where near as severely as before.
He walked across the uneven ground, tripping occasionally on a rock or a root that he could not see in the darkness. He thought about summoning a light, but also thought that it would give the creatures of the woods a better idea of his whereabouts. He did not want that. He was still so tired and groggy. He did not have the fight in him right now to survive anything large, or anything in a herd to attack him.
As he walked, his mind raced, trying to figure out what had happened to him. His steps were very quiet and this slowed his pace some, but stealth was a great skill to have, even when not feeling normal.
That was when he felt it, like a surge of power washing over him. He had crossed onto the grounds of Hogwarts. The magic in the air was so strong it nearly knocked the wind out of him, but more than that, it gave him a sense of being home. He looked around before raising his wand again. He felt as though he had enough strength to do just one more spell, before finally needing to rest.
He quickly spun and was pulled into the magic. He braced himself as best he could, but it felt as though someone had dropped an anvil upon his chest, making it impossible to breath. His ears popped and his eyes felt as though they were being pushed back into his skull forcefully.
The feelings did not last, as he was able to open his eyes, he realized exactly where he was, and this time, it was exactly where he wanted to go.
"Headmistress! Headmistress!" A large painting with a young woman wearing elegant, white robes, called frantically. The poor girl in the painting looked as though she had been sleeping, but was now wide awake. Her eyes wild with fear and distress as she attempted to wake the headmaster.
"Hmph…" The Headmistress groaned before slowly sitting up from her slumber and looking up at the painting with sleepy eyes. "What is it my child? Is everything alright?" She said with a small yawn.
"There is an intruder in the castle. The other paintings are already on their way to fetch the other heads of houses…" She explained frantically. "We felt them when they entered grounds, from the Forbidden Forest." She said with a small whimper in her voice before shaking her head. "We believe they went to the Slytherin house, but we can't tell. It is almost as if we lost them. Please, you must hurry. We can not afford to let anything happen to the children."
"Has anyone seen this person? Have the paintings from Slytherin said anything yet?"
"Not yet, but we are quickly trying to get what they know. I pray that they are able to wake Professor Devereux. Her paintings should be awake, seeing as they were aware of her past that brought her here."
"Oh my, we do not think that the intruder is Francois, do we?" Headmistress said hurriedly as she stood and dressed in her robes and her tall hat. She did not bother with trying to dress to well, but well enough to show that she expected to stay awake until this whole dilemma was solved.
"No one knows yet-" She said before an older knight began running through the pictures on the wall until he stood beside the younger woman.
"Headmistress… We need you, now."
"Do you know who the intruder is?"
"We think so… But it's not possible. It has to be a magic spell, or a curse, or a deception. We need to you verify. Only you would know for sure."
"Who do you believe it is?"
"Headmistress, please! He is in Professor Devereux's room. She is not safe until we know for sure who he is and what he wants."
"So, it is a man?" She questioned before grabbing her and and walking from her room, down the hidden, spiral staircase and into the main hall. She looked around and could see the other professors walking the halls with their wands lit. At least she knew that their houses would be safe, but what of Professor Devereux? She prayed that the young woman was not in any danger as she walked down the hall at a healthy click and headed toward the Slytherin dorms.
He looked around the room and his comfort quickly turned to dismay as his eyes searched the dark room. It was hard to see without a light, but he could tell that furniture had moved and things were very clearly missing.
His shelves filled with books were completely gone. What on earth could have happened to them? This was a very elaborate prank that someone was trying to play on him.
"Lumos" He whispered quietly and a small, white light began to shine from the tip of his wand. He took a step but quickly stopped as a wave of nausea washed over him. He hadn't thought of that before using the teleportation spell. He gagged slightly before bending over. He refused to vomit on his own floor in such a barbaric fashion. He searched the room very quickly before crossing it and walking into the small bathroom that was attached. He closed the door behind himself, just in case. He bent over and finally lost control of his body.
The fit of sickness did not last long, but when it was over, he was horrified as he saw maggots and other disgusting creatures in the toilet. He stood up straight and covered his mouth. He could taste blood, but it was not fresh. It was old, rotted, and thick. He swallowed nervously before looking into the mirror. He held his wand up with a trembling hand and nearly screamed upon the sight of his own reflection.
He looked like only a hallow shell of his former self. He touched the mirror before touching his own face. His cheeks were hallow, as if he had not eaten well in far too long. He was a skeleton with skin. His eyes were slightly sunk in, but seemed to be adjusting themselves back to normal. He had never had teleportation take so much out of him before.
That was when there was a knock at the door.
"Is someone in there?" A gentle voice called. I very clearly belonged to a woman. She seemed frightened, but also very concerned. There was a faint accent, but he could not place it, not through the door. It sounded almost French, or perhaps German.
"Who are you and why are you in my dwelling space?" He asked forcefully as he stepped closer to the door. He grabbed the handle, ready to fight back if he absolutely had to.
"Your room? What are you talking about? This has been my room for the last four years." She explained through the door. "How did you even get in here? I demand answers before I blow this door open." She said, more forcefully this time.
"How dare you threaten me!" He said, feeling enraged by her statements. He pulled the door open to see a young woman.
She was stunning, but could hardly be old enough not to be a student. Her face was smooth and very pale, and her eyes shimmered like Emeralds in the light of his wand. She wore a black robe, but that was all. Her own wand was raised and ready as she looked up at him.
Within an instant, her face went from rage to fear as she looked upon him. She almost lowered her wand, but then shook her head slightly.
"State your business here." She said angrily as she looked at him, her eyes and voice unwavering, though she was afraid.
"I am simply returning to my home, nothing more. I have no interest in starting a fight. Lower your wand, or you will regret it." He warned calmly as he lowered his own wand, but continued to keep a tight grip upon it.
"This is not your home. This is a school, and this is the dorm for the head of this dormitory. I believe you have come to the wrong place. It would be wise for you to leave."
"I am not leaving. I know exactly where I am. How dare you treat me like a bloody fool!" He said more angrily. "I am head of Slytherin house and I know exactly where I am. What I want to know, is where my things are. My books, my ingredients, my potions, all of it! My things are no longer here and I demand an explanation!"
"Professor Devereux, Professor Devereux!" An elder woman's voice called from down the staircase. The footsteps that could be heard were fast and frantic as they climbed the stairs.
"Headmistress!" Professor Devereaux called, her voice trembling now as she took a few steps back from this strange, disgusting looking man.
"Professor Devereux, are you alright? I was informed that there is an intruder in the castle! Please, let me know if you are alright!" She said as she began climbing the stairs even faster.
"I'm fine, but I think this man is lost." She said with a trembling voice as her eyes darted toward the staircase. "He thinks he is the head of Slytherin. I think he may be under a spell of some sort."
"That is absurd." Headmistress scoffed as she reached the top of the stairs. She hurried to the side of the other woman before turning to look at the intruder.
She gasped and nearly screamed before dropping her wand. Her heart plummeted in her chest and she felt as though she was going to be sick, or cry, or collapse. Maybe she would do all three.
"How on earth did you get here?" She questioned, her lower lip quivering as tears began to sting her eyes.
"I know that voice…" He whispered softly as he raised his wand. His wand lit up her face and his own face immediately grew soft upon looking at her. Though she looked vastly different, it was not hard for him to recognize her. It looked as though time had sped up for her, and he wanted to know why. He lowered his wand again and let out a relieved sigh.
"Minerva, it is just you." He said with a small smile. "Wait…" He said as things began to click together in his mind. "How come everyone is calling you Headmistress, Minerva?"
"Oh my…" She said as tears finally began spilling down over her cheeks. She took a few nervous steps toward him before nervously placing a hand upon his face. His skin was stiff and cold as ice, but it seemed to warm almost instantly beneath her touch. His face began to regain color and become more lively when she touched him. She pulled her hand back before wrapping her arms around him and holding him as tightly to herself as she possibly could.
She knew that he would not appreciate her sudden outburst of affection, but she did not care. She felt as though she was seeing a ghost, because in all reality, she was.
"Minerva." He groaned softly before placing his hands upon her shoulders. "Please, contain yourself. I believe that we can remain professional, can't we?" He said sternly before pushing her from himself.
Minerva pulled away without a fight and wiped her eyes before looking upon him, her face turning to stone as she did so.
"We need to talk. You should sit down."
"You're right. We do. Why is this child in my room? Where are my things?" He demanded as he sat down upon the cushioned chair that sat beside the bookshelf that was still remaining. "I demand an explanation."
"You died, Severus." Minerva said sternly, but her lip quivered as she spoke the words, as if she herself did not want to believe them.
"That can not be possible. I have not been-"
"You were killed by Lord Voldemort. You died Severus, during the last Wizard war… I do not understand how you can be here right now."
Severus opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. Everything started to make sense to him now. He could not move when he first woke because his body was rotted from death. It must have taken a very powerful wizard to bring him back into the living world. Who on earth would risk so much to bring a man back from the dead? He felt that horrible pain in his chest again as the world felt as though it was crumbling around him.
"Minerva… How… How long have I..?"
"F-fifteen years, Severus…"
"Fifteen years!" He exclaimed as he looked up at her. "Why. Why would someone bring be back to life now? What am I supposed to do now?" He groaned as he stood up, holding his head as he tried to wrap his mind around all of it.
"Severus, you will always have a home here, I promise you that. Please, relax…" She said before flicking her wand, causing the candles in the room to light, filling it with a warm glow.
"You are Headmistress now, Minerva? What happened to Dumbledore?" He questioned softly.
"Severus… You don't remember?"
"Remember what?"
"Severus… You killed Dumbledore…" She whispered softly before placing a gentle hand upon his arm. "You need to rest now. Odette."
"Yes, Headmistress?" Professor Devereux responded as she looked at Minerva.
"Please, take care of him. Give him what ever potions you can to help him get his strength back, and see if you can't place where the magic that brought him back originated from."
"Absolutely." Odette said with a small nod before she stepped over and knelt before Snape, looking up at him. "I'm going to need to touch you, is that alright?"
"As long as you put your wand down." He said sternly as he looked down at her. She frowned before looking up at Headmistress McGonagall.
"Do as he says, child. I must go let the rest of the Professors know that the threat has been handled… And I must make a few calls. I trust that you will take good care of him." She said sternly before looking at Snape. "She is very wise beyond her years. Please, do not be rude to her."
"I make you no promises." He groaned with a small sigh.
Odette reluctantly put her wand back into her robe pocket as she looked up at him. She raised her hands and gently placed them upon his cold cheeks. She smiled as color began to return to his face, as if her touch was able to start his blood flow again. His eyes began to look less sunken, and she could feel his cheeks filling beneath her touch.
He took a small breath as he felt her hands upon his face. This was the first time since he had woken up, that he could feel his heart beating in his chest. This little act of kindness was making him feel more alive than he had previously. He wanted to speak to her, but he knew that she could not answer any of his questions. If she was as young as he thought, and he truly had been dead for fifteen years, she wouldn't know anything. She would have been but a child during the wizard war.
"You poor man-"
"Please don't." He snapped impatiently as he looked down at her.
"I was only trying to-"
"I know what you were trying to do, but I do not want your pity. I do not want to be treated like a sick puppy. I am far too strong for that, I do not have time for the emotions that make people feel weaker than they are, so do not try. I do not need your concern or your comfort. What I need are my things, to find a new home to go to, to figure out what happened and why someone would have brought me back."
"I was not trying to offend you, but only offer my sympathy. I could not imagine the pain you are going through right now. Do you remember anything from before you died?" She questioned softly as she removed her hands from his face and tenderly placed her hands upon his own. His were very thin, bony, and cold. She ignored the feeling of dread she felt from touching him, because she knew that it was helping him. However, it was taking a great deal out of her. It was almost as though his body was a sponge, absorbing her power as she touched it.
"I don't remember anything, nothing important. All of my memories have this room still as my own, Dumbledore as Headmaster. I do not remember killing him… But I do… I remember Lily." He said suddenly as he closed his eyes. "I remember Lily dying…" As he spoke, he dreaded the feeling of sorrow and loss that he knew would wash over him… But it did not. For the first time since her death, he did not feel sorrow or pain in knowing that she was gone. He remembered a few years after that, at least, that's what he thought. He remembered her child.. Harry…
What had happened to him before death to cause such a reaction? It made him feel both pleasure and immense pain knowing that her death did not affect him any longer. He knew that now, finally, after all of these years… He would be able to let her go. At the same time, however, he had lost his one connection to feeling like a normal man, with feelings and emotions, just like everyone else.
His anchor to reality had finally been lost. He knew that it was only a matter of time now before he drifted out to sea, lost in the current of his own distain for humanity, never allowed to be a normal man again.
"She must have meant a lot to you if you remember her after so long." Odette whispered sadly. "You're a very fortunate man."
"What on earth makes you say that?" He groaned, feeling very irritated with her at this point.
"I just mean… You were able to love another person, so deeply, that even in death, they are one of the most significant things that you remember. Not many people find that level of love in their lifetime. Not only that, but look at you now, you have been given a second chance at life…"
"You don't understand." He snapped bitterly before reaching down and grabbing her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. "She… Never loved me…"
"You don't know that." She whispered softly before placing her own hands upon his again and closing her eyes. "Besides… Just to be able to love someone so deeply is a gift… So many of us never find that person. You may think it was unfortunate, because she did not love you back… But feeling love will forever be better than feeling nothing at all. Feeling numb is the worst…. Feeling pain, from loving so much, is better." She laughed sadly before she nervously removed his hand from her face and stood up. "I will change the sheets on the bed quick, and you can sleep in here for a while. I need to get up soon anyway, to finalize my lesson plan before my first class in the morning." She said quietly before she turned and walked to a large dresser. She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out black sheets, which were neatly folded.
She quickly stripped her bed of blankets and the sheets before replacing them by hand. He found himself wondering why she wasn't using magic.
"That is very kind of you, but I do not understand why you are being so kind to me." He said with a small laugh before standing up. "I am quite clearly not a very kind or sociable man."
"But Minerva likes you." She pointed out with a small smile before putting the blankets back upon the bed. "That is all that matters… Besides, if you are who you say you are, and who Minvera thinks you are, you're a hero. You saved so many lives, and your self sacrifice will never be forgotten by anyone who ever attends Hogwarts. Your painting still hangs here, there's even a memorial for you."
"There's… What?" He whispered softly as he walked toward you. "You can not be serious? I don't even know how I died…"
"Minerva already told you, you were killed by… The dark lord, he who shall not be named… He ended your life. That is why it is so remarkable that you are standing here now. Someone very strong, and who liked you very much clearly sacrificed so much for you, just to bring you back."
"I don't-"
"There is only one spell I am aware of that can bring someone back from the dead, and it requires someone else to die in doing so… But the person who is sacrificed must be willing. If they are not, the spell will not work. Someone not only was strong enough to bring you back, but also found someone else who knew you and wanted to give their life for you. You say you're not a kind man, but you must be. At least… There was someone who was willing to die for you, the way you were willing to die for so many others."
"How do you know so much…?" He asked quietly as he looked at her.
"I studied the war quite a bit. I am from France and I did not witness most of it. We were outside, looking in. It was horrible, but I stayed up to date on what was happening. The death toll was so… Awful… But there were a few heroes who were highlighted after the ordeal. You were one of them…"
"I want to know what happened…."
"You will, but we need to find the surviving members of your group first. Minerva will, I'm sure of it. You will know what happened, but for now… Sleep."
"I have been asleep for fifteen years, I do not want to sleep!" He shouted angrily before glaring down at her. "I do not have time to listen to the orders of a child." He scoffed before he turned from her and headed down the staircase, disappearing from her sight.
"I hope he feels better soon…" She said softly to herself before sitting down upon her bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She knew that now was not the time to go chasing after this strange man, but she couldn't help to be worried about him. She hoped that someone would be able to help him remember what happened.