DISCLAIMER: All rights to the characters, recognized plot lines, places, etc. belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.
Prologue
~31st October, 1981~
The wind catching beneath his black cloak and carrying it back, the man's feet were swift. One step after the other, the man walked with urgency. Searching the slim abandoned streets, his gaze fell on a near house. The garden gate, creaking in the wind, was opened wide; the house door askew. Beginning to move forward once more, this time with even more haste, the man went down the garden path, entering the house without hesitation. His body felt cold and his chest constricted with each new step. He could hear a high pitched sound from within the house, which brought him little comfort. He knew what he was going to find, but something kept him going. All the lights within were on. Passing through the drawing room, he followed the sound. Despite his in-charge demeanor, his eyes were distant, lost. Into the kitchen, there it was. The source of the sound. A kettle sat on the ignited stovetop, the water long gone he observed as he switched the stove off. His fingers lingered on the switch, he seemed reluctant to let go. She'd touched the switch, maybe only half an hour previously. He clinged to that, the notion that her last minutes of happiness, undoubtedly, had been in that particular room. With her husband, most likely, talking late in the night over tea while their son slept happily only metres above. Resentment surged up suddenly, but the man pushed it back down. Now was not the time. Moving out of the kitchen, he began to take the stairs two at a time. The house lighting ceased as he progressed up. Reaching the floor landing, a sudden scream sounded. The man abruptly looked towards the source, a room only a few doors away was cracked open. He could see movement behind the door, glimpsing the familiar long dark robes. Blood ran to his ears as he took out a sleek piece of wood from beneath his robes. Fingers gripped tightly around the weapon, the man's skin was pasty. Striding carefully down the hall, he pressed his ear to the door. There was only crying and then, pop. Complete silence. Pushing the door open, the man found himself in a darkened nursery. Fumbling in his steps, he let out a heavy breath. A man laid dead by his feet. No visible marks on the lifeless body, the guy's eyes were still open behind his thin wire-framed glasses. Walking passed the first body, the man stopped dead almost immediately after. Another figure laid on the ground, a woman's body this time. Even in the dim moonlight, he recognized the flaming red hair.
Stumbling forward, the man fell to the floor. "Lily…." he murmured, taking her form in his arms, cradling her limp body. "No, no, no….." he repeated, over and over. "Please, Lily, please no…" his words poignant, tears lightly flowed down his cheeks. Rocking back and forth, the man cried, feeling as if he was in a dream–a nightmare. And then, there was a sharp exhale and cough. But it wasn't from the man fallen on the floor, no. Looking taken aback, the man looked to the woman in his arms. Realization hit him and the man jumped back. The woman's eyes still closed, she murmured. She hadn't been dead, she'd been unconscious. Relief swelled and the man watched her for a minute, cautiously. Eventually standing, he gave the woman on the floor a searching look, not understanding how it was possible. How could she be alive? Looking to the child in the room for the first time that night, the child seemed calm. The boy's eyes were wide as the man locked gazes with him. The boy's eyes were like his mother's, like Lily's–emerald green and fiery. The thing the man failed to notice as he watched the child was the mark across Harry Potter's forehead. This was the thing that would mark not just Harry Potter but Severus Snape for a future beyond imagination. Turning on his heels after one last look at the scene before him, Severus left the house. None the wiser on what really had just transpired.
Breathing in the fresh air, Severus let the alleviation sink in. She was alive, breathing. Lily Evans had–by some miracle–survived, and by even more of a shock, so had her son; but how? How could two out of three people survive an attack like that? Could they?, maybe he'd imagined it…..but Severus knew he hadn't. Severus was never one for fantasies or fiction, in fact he wasn't sure he even had enough imagination for such eccentric realities as that which he lived in in that moment. Surviving the Dark Lord, impossible. Or, so he'd thought. Mind drifting to his Master, Severus realized that he would surely be called upon soon, but still there had been nothing. No burning pain, nothing–dead air. And this made Severus' night all the stranger.
As Severus walked towards the edge of the street, he stayed hidden in the shadows. Turning on the spot as he came to a stop abruptly, Severus disappeared. Appearing miles from the small cottage house in Godric's Hollow, Severus found himself in a squalid home. The house was dreary, dust lining the fireplace mantel, the settee was covered in a tinted white sheet. An unusual carpet beneath the settee and ornamental table, the colors were worn. A kitchen in the back could be seen, looking just as bleak as the rest of the house. It was nice in a way though, simple. Nothing overwhelming.
Severus paced the living room his eyes on the floor. He couldn't think straight, this wasn't how it was suppose to happen. Flicking his wand towards the hearth, flames flared up with a whooshing sound. As he surveyed the flames for a pause, Severus gave a short breath before he resumed his pacing. They, the Potters, weren't supposed to have been found. Lily and the boy may have survived but they still weren't safe. Their only form of protection was now gone and with it so was their safety. Severus murmured to himself, arms crossed in thought. No doubt by now Dumbledore had located Lily and the child and brought them, if not to Hogwarts, than some other guarded location. But what happens when they're not protected?, what happens when Dumbledore isn't there to protect them? How long would this war last?, how long would she and the boy have to continue on in fear? They were safe for the time being…that'd have to do. And, when she, Lily, needed more, when, if, a time came that she wasn't protected, Severus would be there. He'd help her when she needed it, he'd protect her….after all, isn't that what he'd told Dumbledore he was there for? To keep Lily Evans…...Potter, safe? On that note, Severus stopped his pacing. He knew his next move, it was the same as his last; Protect Lily, whether she was an Evans or a Potter, and with that came protecting the child, her child. Potter's child.
Wasting no more time, Severus went to the kindled fire. Promptly taking a handful of floo-powder out of the small bowl on the fireplace mantel, Severus walked into the flames, "Hogwarts." Spinning and twisting into nothingness, Severus stepped back out of the channel into the accustomed office. Brushing off the soot, he looked around the room. Annoyance rose, Dumbledore appeared not to be there. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Severus gave an irritated breath. It was almost one, where else could he be? Figuring his chances of finding Dumbledore were less likely if he went and searched the entire school, Severus settled on just waiting. And so, taking the seat in front of the desk, Severus waited impatiently.
Not even seconds had passed since Severus had settled into the office chair when the door swung open. A large group piled into the office and Severus blinked in surprise. Of course he'd been expecting this, but not so quickly. It'd been maybe thirty minutes since he'd left Godric's Hollow. Had the news really spread that fast? The room was in chaos, voices loud as everyone spoke at once. Each asked the same idiotic questions Severus could've answered in mere seconds. Rolling his eyes, Severus stood as Dumbledore caught his gaze and proceeded to look to the people around. Each person looked to Albus Dumbledore for the answers; none thinking for themselves. God, we're all just puppets, Severus derided distastefully. Severus knew he was a puppet too, perhaps even more so than the rest. He was more like a pawn in a chess game. Silence fell over the room as Dumbledore raised a hand, as he did to school children during the feasts. Immediate silence. "I'm aware you all must have many questions about what has transpired tonight, but I'll ask you to hold those questions until after I explain what I know." No one spoke, all eyes were glued to Dumbledore as he spoke. Taking this as a sign to continue on, Dumbledore said, with a heavy sigh, "As I'm sure you've all heard, the Potters were attacked earlier this evening-"
"Are they okay?!, is the boy alive?" A squat woman with homely attire and red hair, asked. As Dumbledore replied, his usual demeanor remained, "The boy is alive and unharmed, as is Lily. Both are with Madam Pomfrey as we speak…"
"And James?" Another asked pressingly. Severus looked up at those words, he couldn't help but want to see people's reaction to the news. Sickened by himself, Severus swallowed and looked back to the floor. "James Potter died, saving his family…" Dumbledore said, sadness evident in his voice. A low murmur erupted from the confirmation while people gasped in shock, and a few cried timidly at the news.
"Has anyone told Sirius and Remus?" Someone else asked over the murmurs. Nodding his head, Dumbledore replied, "They're both with Lily and Harry in the infirmary and I believe that it's best we give them all their space while they mourn–"
"How'd this happen, Dumbledore?" Shacklebolt asked, his low voice resonating through the room and bringing another silence to the room. "From what I've gathered, speaking with Lily and I'm sure Severus can confirm," another wave of murmurs at Severus' name, "The Potters' trust was mislead. A mole on the inside gave their location away," Dumbledore explained steadily. "A mole? To give away their location, it would've had to have been-"
"Yes, their secret keeper–Peter Pettigrew." Roars of anger sounded at this and Dumbledore waited patiently for them to settle until one man–Severus didn't recognize him–said ruefully, "And what about him?!" the man's eyes flew to Severus. More voices rose, now of agreement. Severus kept his stand, gaze forward and unwavering. "Severus is here by my request and I ask you all to listen intently when I say that I trust him in full, not only with my own life, but with all of yours. He is here to help and be of service, just as all of you are."
"He's one of them!"
"He's a bloody Death Eater, Dumbledore!"
Shaking his head, Dumbledore repeated, "I trust Severus, just as much as I trust each of you." Another, one Severus knew as Fabian Prewett, gritted his teeth as he looked back to the others. Fabian's brother, Gideon, met Severus' gaze, hesitated and then dropped his eyes downward. Shacklebolt, clearing his throat, broke the tension, "What's our next move, Dumbledore?" Severus saw a flicker of hesitation in the older man's eyes, and was surprised as he said, "I'm glad you ask this, I suppose this is the best time to announce...I've received word...that is to say, there's a rumor..."
"About what?"
To which Dumbledore responded evenly, "Words spread, and it may not be true, that Voldemort has fallen. Or, at least, has been greatly weakened."
No one dared to speak, even Severus stood in shock. Wouldn't he know if that was the case? Was that even possible? As if reading his mind, Edgar Bones spoke up, his voice quiet, "How's that possible?...is-is it-"
"Severus?, have you heard any word about this?" Dumbledore asked, walking around his desk, on his own train of thought. "No...I–I haven't heard anything of this…" The pieces clicking into place, suddenly Severus understood. That would explain why there'd been no summon or call from the Dark Lord….But could it really be? Subconsciously gripping his forearm, Severus met Dumbledore's gaze; and then he knew. There was no question in the older man's eyes, the Dark Lord had fallen…...