Author's Note: As promised, this chapter explains why Snape is still alive. It's a whole lot of Snape thinking/remembering. Chunky, chunky info. Oh, and thank you guys, truly, for all your support so far! (:

The Horcrux of Severus Snape - Chapter 2

Red Hair and Feathers

I steal a glance at that insolent boy, no, man, as he leaves the room. Apart from the slight increase in height, Potter hasn't changed much. His hair is more or less the same mess it always was. One morning, I noticed a particularly large scar on his left arm during breakfast. I have attempted to ask him about it, but he has carefully avoided my inquiry. I am very observant when it comes to noticing scars. But other than that, Potter is the same. It was stranger to imagine that this child, man, alright, man-child, was a father of three.

The eldest, whose name I can't say without at least a hint of disgust, is due to start his first year at Hogwarts next year. His brother, who Potter had dared to name after me and meddling bloody Albus, was more or less polite. Albeit sneaky. But that's what you get when you name your son "Albus".

And then there's Lily.

Of the three, Lily is the only one who stays on Hogwarts grounds with Potter. The other two live with the Weasley girl in London, or so Minerva says. After several years of marriage, the Potters' had fallen out for some reason. Divorced, apparently on amicable terms. Potter visits the two boys regularly, often bringing Lily along with him. Lily is an extremely bright child, quite like her namesake. Polite, well-behaved and diligent.

Also, seemingly, my number one fan.

When Potter goes for class, he leaves her with one of the Professors. There is a duty roster which Minerva circulates, apparently. I have not seen it, mainly because it does not matter to me. The girl spends most of her time lounging on my sofa, reading. Or sitting on my desk while drawing. Yes, on my desk. I must admit of growing rather fond of her. Which is honestly saying something, considering how I dislike most children in general. And yet, I'm Headmaster. Albus must be laughing in his grave. Or in his portrait, as he very often does when Lily is around.

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft tapping sound coming from the window. Perched on the window sill, Fawkes continues tapping at the window impatiently. I open the window to let the blasted bird in. I stroke his feathers gently and then allow him to perch himself back on his stand. He is particularly happy today, having feasted on a rare fish at his usual hunting spot.

It's strange how things work out, I suppose. I would be dead if it weren't for Fawkes. On the night Albus had instructed me to take his life, I stood amongst several Death Eaters, shaking in my boots as I held my wand towards Albus. They couldn't see me tremble and I don't blame them. After so many years, hiding my fear is a frequently practised habit. I remember hesitating slightly, Albus pleading, and then all of a sudden, I see a line of fire from outside the tower.

Fawkes.

I remember feeling a sudden surge of strength, courage if you will. So I cast the spell, I did it. I murdered Albus Dumbledore. But I felt no guilt, no fear. I was different. I felt as if a part of me had gone.

I discovered later that this assessment was indeed accurate. Albus bloody Dumbledore, from his ridiculously oversized portrait, explained that Fawkes was my Horcrux. Albus had cast the complex Horcrux spell on Fawkes shortly after he was certain he had convinced me to end his life. He had set it to activate immediately after his death.

In that senile mind of his, he figured that in order to spare me from the guilt of his murder (which he feared might have impeded my progress of seeing to the Dark Lord's demise), he would split a part of my soul and place it in Fawkes. The darkest part of my soul.

"I had planned for it to cleanse you, my boy. It's a very tricky little spell, but I managed it. And Fawkes, being the amazing creature of Light that he is, has absorbed the worst part of you, Severus. The very deepest, darkest part of you. You, of all people deserve it, Severus. Your soul is no longer tainted with the blood you spilled for our cause," Albus had explained while eyeing me closely from his portrait.

I was angry of course. Though I appreciated the effort, he could have at least tried telling me first. But no, Albus Dumbledore tells no one anything. And to use the darkest of magic to… cleanse? The irony is befitting only for Albus Dumbledore, I suppose. To this day, Albus insists the Horcrux he created is in no way "dark".

"It is a Horcrux, but it isn't a Horcrux exactly. Don't roll your eyes at me, my boy. If I was alive, I would give it a name. I have always wanted to name an invention of my own. Flibberwabbet. That's a good name isn't it, Severus? Doesn't sound dark at all!" Albus had said.

So Fawkes is the reason why I am still alive today. The Dark Lord had set Nagini upon me at the Shrieking Shack, minutes before Potter came sauntering in. I was careless, far too careless. Far too arrogant, thinking the Dark Lord suspected nothing of me. I was wrong.

After providing Potter with my memories, I lay there dying for some time.

Potter had thought me dead. In fact, I think I was dead for a few minutes. The steady pounding of my heart had ended for a bit. I recall seeing Lily's eyes. Lily's face, Lily's hands guiding me. Away.

The next thing I knew, I was gasping for air. The wounds on my neck split open again. The blood which had dried continued flowing freely. The pain I felt was immense, unbearable. I wished death upon myself.

And then I saw Fawkes, brilliant red, soaring towards me, dripping tears on my wounds. Crying for me, crying for us.

And then, I was alive.