It was a damp fall night. Most visitors in Hogsmead were by a warm fire, drinking with merrily. Severus continued to walk in the shadows as to not draw attention to himself until needed. A stranger with a dark hood over his or her face was not out of the norm in the Hogshead. He looked over at the bar and noticed that the barkeep, Madame Rosemerta, had bewitched the taps and pitchers to serve the guests. The meeting must have already started. With a quick look around, he bolted up the stairs to her lodgings.
Creeping along the wall, he stepped lightly, avoiding loosened floor boards. He recognized two of the three voices coming from the room, one being of Madame Rosemerta and the other of the newly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. The third must be the woman who he was supposed to interrogate, by means of torture, for information. Hoping not to have to resort to torture, as it would make headlines in the Profit, he leaned into the door, hoping to catch a few words. Leaning in, he noticed that the door was open a crack. Kneeling down he peered in.
Dumbledore was sitting on the couch showing Rosemerta his new pair of socks and the guest, who was a brown frizzy haired woman with glasses the size of quaffles, sat in a chair.
"So," Dumbledore said, pulling his robes back down over his socks. "How's business been doing?" he asked Rosemerta. "Good. Though not so good with the students back at home," she replied, stoking the fire. Dumbledore looked suddenly at the frizzy haired woman. "Um, Rosemerta, would you be so kind as to fetch me some mead? I've had a taste for it for quite sometime," he smiled. "Surely," she rested the poker against the hearth and headed for the door. Severus quickly dashed for the room just across the hall and his behind the door. As soon as he was sure she was down the stairs, he hurried back over the other door. "Neither can live while the other survives!" The woman's voice sounded most unnatural. His eyes widened. Hearing Rosemerta making her way back up the stairs, he dashed back into the other room and escaped out the window.
Severus bowed before his master. "Rise servant," the master's voice was cold. "I trust you bring news of importance?" He rose with his head still slightly bowed. "The prophecy you sensed was spoke last night. It was said, 'Neither can live while the other survives.'" The master's eyes turned to cold, malicious slits on his face. "My followers!" he addressed the group clad in long black cloaks and masks around him. "The prophecy has been said! MacNair, Malfoy and Rudolphus Lestrange," three figures stepped forward. "To the Potters!" Cheers and laughter rang.
The Potters? Severus stood cold in his place. Their child? The child wasn't his biggest concern though. What about Lily? He knew his master and his ways and he knew Lily. She would stand between him and the baby, and nothing lived to tell about facing the Dark Lord. He Apperated with those not chosen, back to his house.
He didn't sleep well that night. He kept tossing and turning, having the same nightmare every time he drifted off to sleep. In his nightmare he was cold. Bright red and green lights flashed through a blackened space. Every time he woke, it was with the sound of a scream and a baby's cry, followed by cold laughter. The forth time he woke, the clock read seven A.M. He got out of bed, put on his dressing robe and sat at the kitchen table. He magicked some coffee into a mug just as an owl flew through the opened window, landing on the table. He placed a bronze Knut into the ouch tied to it's leg and it flew off. With trembling fingers he unrolled the paper and looked at the front page.
'He Who Must Not Be Named' Strikes Again! Two Found Dead! He went to the article underneath. 'Lily and James Potter were found dead this morning in their home when a neighbor heard startling screams coming from their residence on Godric's Hollow. The couple had a young baby named Harry who was found, miraculously, safe in his crib with naught but a scar on his forehead, possibly indicating a failed powerful curse.'
He tossed the paper across the room.
Lily was dead.
That night he did the most unthinkable thing someone in his position could do. He ignored the burning of the Mark on his right forearm. Instead he donned his long black cloak and Apperated to the only place he could go.
"You have to help me! I swear. I swear I'm done! I'll scrape this thing off my arm! I'll--" "Severus," Dumbledore's eyes were warm. "I think I have a place for you. But Severus," he placed a hand on his shoulder. "You will never be truly done." He gave a sad smile, but ushered him into the office like an old friend.