He didn't smell human.

The scent that surrounded him was dank and musty: the smell of a dark, underground place that had been forgotten for a reason. With his reptilian face, bone white skin, and scarlet eyes, he quite looked like a creature that had crawled out of such a place, too.

And yet there was also something very human about him. The theatrics, the carefully constructed image, the fact that he had come here in the first place – it all reeked of desperation and insecurity that made him seem painfully ordinary. Had he truly believed in his superiority, he would not have felt the need to go into such great lengths to convince everyone that he should be feared and respected.

It did not work on her. When she looked at him, all she could see was his weakness, his fear of death, and all the sad little things that had turned him into this travesty of a wizard. If anything, Lord Voldemort was banal, and Lily could not bring herself to be afraid of him. She could barely even hate him right now. He was far too pathetic for that, and she was far too angry with Dumbledore to spare any hatred for him. All Voldemort got from her was her inattentive contempt.

He scanned her from head to toe, and a gleeful smile appeared on his thin lips. She imagined how she must have looked like to him, standing there alone in front of her sleeping child with no one to protect her. An easy prey; a helpless doe shrinking before the beast that would undoubtedly tear her apart. His familiar seemed to mirror his feelings; the snake slithered at his feet and looked at her like she was dinner.

"I know you," he said in his high-pitched voice. "You're that mudblood. The one who writes in that paper. One of Dumbledore's pets."

"I'm not with Dumbledore," she replied coolly. She could almost feel Dumbledore shooting daggers at her. She could tell that he was still standing right behind Voldemort, under the cover of a cloaking spell, making sure that everything would go exactly as he had planned. She reckoned that he didn't appreciate her bitter reply; cryptic statements like that were bound to fill Voldemort with suspicion.

She felt the craziest urge to just go ahead and tell Voldemort what was going on. Maybe the two wizards would fight it out, and Lily would get a chance to flee the scene with Harry. But she knew Dumbledore well enough to understand that he would never again allow her to deviate from the path he wanted her to take. One word, and he would make sure that she never spoke again.

She felt like a player on a lonely stage, reciting her lines under the watchful eye of an unforgiving director. Nothing she said or did would go unnoticed. No mistake would remained unpunished.

Voldemort approached Harry's bed. Lily reacted instinctively by stepping back to keep herself between the two. Voldemort's smile grew even wider at this; perhaps he thought that he had frightened her.

"So this is him. The one who is meant to defeat me," he said, and then he eyed at her. "And I hear you're his mother. The mudblood mother of a half-blood raised by Muggles."

He gave the strangest cackle of laughter, one that seemed to fit neither the situation nor the man it came from.

"Absurd," he said. "I heard a prophecy about this child, but I can see that it was utter nonsense."

"And yet you came," Lily replied. "To think that the famous Lord Voldemort would be so afraid of a seven-year-old."

He blinked. Clearly, he did not expect such defiance from someone in her position. She was surprised by her own words as well, although she managed to maintain her steely exterior. Insulting the Dark Lord was definitely not a wise move, but she could not help herself. He was such a fool, and it annoyed her how easily he had walked into Dumbledore's trap. For once, she wished that Voldemort would have lived up to his cunning reputation.

Fortunately, Lily's scatching reply did not send him over the edge. On the contrary, he seemed pleased to find that she was more interesting than just another helpless victim begging for mercy.

"The real question is what are you doing here?" he asked. "My source tells me that you exiled your son here to hide him from me. You did not do that only to remain here as his sentinel. Perhaps you received an invitation as well? Or maybe you're the one who lured me here? If this is an ambush, it's a very pitiful one."

Merlin's bollocks, you're stupid, thought Lily, and she felt glad that she managed to keep her real thoughts to herself this time. Or maybe you're just too full of yourself. He was clever enough to realize that something was not right, yet too arrogant to think that he was in any real danger.

Maybe it was her fault. He was getting far too caught up in intimidating and dominating a defenseless girl like her to look around and wonder what was really going on. Maybe then he could have opened his eyes and seen beyond the smoke and the mirrors. That he, like her, was just another piece in somebody else's game. Except that he didn't even know that he was being played.

"Ananke," she sighed.

He stared at her blankly. "What does that mean?"

"It means that we're both here because we need to be here," she replied. "You came here to kill my son, and I came here to stop you. We're both just doing what we have to do."

He narrowed his eyes inquisitively, but he soon seemed to abandon his attempt to decrypt her words. His snake was hissing impatiently on the floor. She imagined that he did not usually spend this much time chatting with his victims.

"So you came here to die," he said simply. He sounded disappointed. "Here I was hoping that there was more to you than that tedious fascination with martyrdom your side seems to hold in such high regard. You could have stayed away and let destiny take its course. Yet here you are, ready to throw your life away for nothing. You do realize that your sacrifice will be in vain? That I'm just going to kill your boy as soon as I'm done with you?"

Slowly, the overpowering anger inside Lily's heart began to make way for a creeping sense of panic. This was it. This was really it. Her time was almost up, and she could not find a way to avoid death without abandoning her son.

Was Dumbledore right? Did this count as a choice, as an act of true, selfless love? And would it be enough to protect Harry? She could have tried to escape, but she chose to stay – yet it was not her choice to be here in the first place. Would it still work?

"I won't move," she said. This time, her shaky voice betrayed her true feelings.

"I don't care," Voldemort replied. He seemed bored with her already.

Now Lily was truly scared. He hadn't asked her to step aside, wouldn't that ruin the spell? Dumbledore had said that he would make sure that Harry would live no matter what happened, but what did that even mean?

She could not do it. She could not die without knowing for certain that her son would survive. She could not put her faith in Dumbledore.

But what choice did she have?

Be brave, she told herself, as she watched Voldemort taking out his wand with slow, leisured movements that showed just how much pleasure he was taking in the act. Close your eyes and take the shot. Think about Harry, dear, dear Harry. Do the right thing.

But what was the right thing?

She had asked herself that question all her life, and she never seemed to find a definite answer to it.

Maybe there wasn't one.

"You've made your choice, mudblood," said Voldemort. He raised his wand and looked her in the eyes, and she felt like time and space were standing still, just for a moment.

She thought about Dumbledore, about that triumphant look that simply had to be on his face right now. He had won back the narrative, and he was going to get off scot-free. After tonight, no one could ever defy his vision again, and he would be free to conduct the universe as he pleased.

Bastard.

Suddenly, Lily's mind was full of red and black. What she said next came from somewhere deep within her, from some dark place she didn't know she carried inside of her.

"You can kill me, but my secret dies with me," she blurted out.

Voldemort held his hand; he was still pointing his wand at her, ready to cast the killing curse on any given moment.

"And what secret might that be?" he asked. He sounded deeply uninterested, yet he wouldn't have even asked her had he not been a little bit curious.

That was how she knew that this was going to work.

She gave out a deep, breathy chuckle, which threw him off slightly, just like she had planned.

"You will never find out the truth," she said enigmatically. "One day, it will be your downfall."

Voldemort sighed and rolled his eyes; a weird reaction from someone like him, yet somehow also an entirely predictable one.

"Idiot," he uttered with disdain. And without saying another word, he did what she had expected him to do: he penetrated her mind with the ease and finesse of the master Legilimens he was.

Lily had not spent over six years with Severus doing nothing but fooling around with him. He had also been her mentor. Having picked up where Moody had left off, Severus had taught her how to fight and how to defend herself, both physically and mentally. Mastering Occlumency had been of utmost importance to her; had Lily been captured by the enemy, she would have run the risk of exposing everything she knew about Severus's secret mission and the Order's plans – and, as she alone knew, everything she knew about the future and about her son.

With Severus's help, she had built an impenetrable wall around the most sensitive parts of her mind, and she was confident that she was now more than capable of keeping her secrets to herself. She knew a dozen ways to resist any mental invasion, and she had practiced hard enough to make sure that not even Voldemort himself could crack her open.

Right now, she was using none of those skills.

Instead, she welcomed Voldemort's mental probing with open arms, and pushed one image on the forefront of her mind so that he could not miss it.

That of Dumbledore lurking behind him in the shadows.

The meeting between their minds only lasted for a fraction of a second. He severed the connection as soon as he saw the image and stared into her eyes in bewilderment, unable to comprehend why she would reveal to him that they were being watched. She stared back at him intently, hoping, praying that he would believe her.

For a few tense seconds, Voldemort hesitated. But then he said something in a hissing, inhuman tongue that she could not understand. And the next thing she knew, the snake had sprung upwards and snapped the air seven times.

They heard a gasp and a thud, and suddenly Dumbledore reappeard. He was on his knees, holding the gaping wound on his neck. There was so much blood spurting from it that his white beard had turned almost completely red.

The worst thing about it was that he was looking at her – and only at her, like Voldemort wasn't even there. That look was like a curse, full of disgust and scorn and blood-curling hatred. But she could not avert her eyes; she felt like she deserved whatever the dying old wizard wished upon her.

"Well... played... Miss Evans, " he said. He could barely speak, and he was gurgling and spitting blood. She realized that he was taking his last breaths, and that he was wasting them on her.

"Sometimes -," he wheezed, "- I think... we sort... too soon."

She watched helplessly as the light in his eyes died. He slumped forward and collapsed on the floor softly, which reminded her of how old and frail his body really was.

And there they stood, Voldemort and her, staring at the dead body of the greatest wizard of their time in absolute awe, as they both tried to wrap their minds around what had just happened. Lily knew exactly what she had done, yet she couldn't quite believe it: she had joined forces with Lord Voldemort himself and helped him murder Albus Dumbledore.

Merlin. What had she become?

Voldemort kneeled down and touched the older wizard with his wand in an odd mix of horror and fascination. Maybe he was still checking to see whether this really was Dumbledore, and not just an elaborate disguise or an illusion. And while he was busy examining the body, Lily heard a noise coming from behind her, and she turned around to see what was causing it.

The sleeping spell Dumbledore cast had worn off when he had died. Harry had woken up, and he sitting on his bed, staring at the strange people in his room in fear and wonder.

Two identical pairs of green eyes met. Lily's soul shivered as she took her first real look at her beautiful, innocent boy, who could not have looked more perfect sitting there, even with the chaos around them. And although she knew she must have just imagined it, she felt like she saw a spark of recognition in Harry's eyes, too. Did he know? Did he understand that he was looking at his mother?

Her heart was breaking, for she knew that these precious few seconds would probably be the only time they would ever spend together. She wished she could have explained him everything, or introduced herself, or even said goodbye to him, but they didn't have time for any of that.

It was time for Harry to go.

She looked firmly into his eyes and whispered, "Run."

And then several things happened at the same time: Harry got on his feet and charged out of the door, the snake Nagini hissed to warn its master, Voldemort turned away from Dumbledore, and Lily spun around with her wand in her hand.

She cast a spell, something to distract him while Harry escaped, something that wasn't as easy to block as Expelliarmus – something that required her to picture her son making it outside and being rescued before the Dark Lord got to him.

"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted.

A blinding light filled the room, as a cloud of luminous, silver matter emerged from the tip of her wand. It was bright but malformed – she was distraught, and she hadn't performed the spell in years – and it leaped at Voldemort with such force that he fell on the floor, like he had been hit by a hurricane.

What shocked her the most wasn't how much punch her spell had packed, but the shape it had taken. She couldn't tell what it was supposed to be, but it definitely wasn't a doe anymore. This creature was big and strong, and it had sharp teeth and claws.

Whatever it was, or whatever had caused it, she couldn't dwell on it for long. Voldemort was down, and her Patronus was still distracting him. This was her chance. She launched a series of spells at him – curses, hexes, whatever she could think of – but he dodged and blocked them expertly even then. His snake tried to help him, but a stray spell sent it flying across the room.

Once her Patronus had faded away, he got back on his feet and fired back. Vile, mighty curses flew at her with the strength of cannon balls, and she could only barely evade them. The walls around them trembled as the interior of the room got quicly destroyed in the crossfire. She had been trained well by both Moody and Severus, but she was out of her depth; nothing could have prepared her for an opponent as powerful as Lord Voldemort.

Knowing that she would not last long in a simple duel, she decided to use her surroundings as an asset, as Moody had once instructed her. Her next spell hit the ceiling, which rained down on Voldemort in rubble. It did not stop him, but it did slow him down just enough for her to leap to the door.

She was racing towards the stairs when she heard him crashing through the wall. Dodging another set of curses, she fell down and rolled down the rest of the steps all the way downstairs. She only got bruised in the fall, but she lost her wand.

And that was when Voldemort caught up to her.

He smiled again when he saw her lying on the floor unarmed. He had the upper hand again, and he was in no hurry to finish her.

With a gentle flick of his wand, he grabbed a hold of her entire body and lifted her up in the air in the middle of the living room. The next thing she knew, she was hanging stiffly in midair with her hands extended to her sides, and she couldn't move a muscle. She could barely even breathe.

"Now why would you do that?" he said calmly, and walked around her like he was studying some moderately exciting exhibit at a museum. "You must have known that you couldn't defeat me. I will kill you, and I will catch him. But first..."

He lowered her down so that he could look her straight in the eyes, and loosened the binding spell around her jaw.

"...I want to know why you helped me kill Albus Dumbledore."

She was in pain, and she was terrified. She had to bite her teeth and force herself to breathe steadily to stay focused. What now? There was no way she could talk herself out of this one. She thought about what she should tell him, or whether she should tell him anything at all. One wrong word could kill her, or inspire him to unleash his cruelty on her.

Necessity. It all came down to necessity again. What she needed to do now was to make sure that Harry got as far away from the house as possible so that he'd find somebody to help him. The Ministry monitored Muggle emergency calls; they would realize what was happening and send help if someone called the police. That was how Harry would survive.

Her job was to hold Voldemort back as long as she could. His self-assurance was the key; he was obviously so sure of himself that he thought that his plan to find and murder Harry could bear a small delay. He would take his time with her, as long as she made him think that it was worthwhile.

So he liked a good fight? She would give him one. She would give him something to chew on.

"Which one do you think would be more disappointed to see you today?" she hissed through her teeth. "Your Muggle father, or your inbred mother?"

His smile died quickly on his lips. He grabbed her by the jaw with his cold hand. Had he ever suffered such audacity from someone as lowly as her?

"Who are you, really?" he insisted, and studied her face with his blazing red eyes, as if he could crack the mystery that was Lily Evans by simply looking at her.

But how could he, when she didn't know the answer to that question herself? Was she a pawn or a queen? An angel or a devil? The one who saved people, or the one who let everyone down? A traitor, a freak, a disease? Or a saint, a friend, someone willing to sacrifice herself for others? A mother willing to die? A mother willing to kill?

Was she the hero of this story, or the villain?

She could give him that full list of contradicting titles that had been applied to her over the years, and he still wouldn't get a sense of who she truly was. She saw so many reflections of herself around her, yet she couldn't tell which one was the real one. Were any of them real? Were all of them real?

It didn't matter anymore. She just needed to tell him something that would keep him preoccupied with her a little while longer.

"I'm a girl who's seen the future," she said. "And I know that you're not a part of it."

He looked dismayed, but his scowl quickly melted into a curious smirk. "You were Dumbledore's Seer. You're Cassandra Queen," he said. "I've been looking for you for ages. And here you are, at last. You are full of secrets, Lily Evans."

He pulled her near, and whispered the next words disgustingly close to her ear. "Let's see the rest of them."

His words had barely left his lips when she felt her mind being penetrated again. This time, she would not let him in. She relied on her training and focused all of her energy into shutting him out. He pushed and pushed, but her secrets stayed hidden in the depths of her mind.

With immense frustration, he gave up and pulled out of her mind. She could see the inner struggle reflected in his eyes. Should he waste more of his time on her, or go after Harry already?

Luckily, and unluckily, he chose her.

"I can be even more persuasive than this, if you like," he said. "I can make you talk. In fact, I know how to make you beg me to listen to every little secret you have."

A cold rush of panic shook her insides. She knew what was coming. Cruciatus.

But instead of the Unforgivable Curse, Voldemort seemed to have something more personal in mind. Once again, he said something in that strange, hissing language, and the snake appeared next to him. He gave his loyal pet another command, and soon she felt it slithering up her feet.

"This is Nagini," Voldemort said, and lifted her up in the air again. "She's my companion. An unique creature, as obedient as she is savage. I bred her myself."

The snake coiled around her body like a rope. She felt like screaming, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"She helps me with my enemies," he said. "She has two ways of doing that. The quick one, and the slow one."

The head of the serpent was now close to her neck. It was a gigantic creature; its jaws looked so big that she imagined she could have easily swallowed her whole.

"One of those ways is, well, efficient," Voldemort continued. "See those fangs of hers? Her bite carries a deadly venom with no known cure in the world. Not that anyone has ever lived long enough to look for an antivenom after being bitten. Oh, it's quite the sight, whenever someone gets a taste of it. A series of violent cramps followed by soul-splitting pain that renders the lucky ones unconscious. The unlucky ones remain awake till the very end of the infernal process: death by suffocation. It only takes fifteen or twenty minutes at the most, but I imagine it'll feel longer than that."

The snake opened its mouth; its fangs were longer than her fingers. If Voldemort was telling her the truth, Dumbledore had been quite fortunate to die so quickly of mere blood loss.

"I know what you must be thinking now," he said. "What's the quick way, then? Surely that must be the easier way to go?" He gave another horrible laughter. "Well, I'm afraid that I must tell you that that was the quick way. The slow way is much, much more brutal. It's something I save for my very special friends. You see, Nagini also likes to squeeze."

He said something in Parseltongue, and suddenly the snake tightened its grip on her. This time, she could not hold back her scream, although it was cut short when her windpipe got completely blocked. She felt like she was being crushed; her bones almost cracked under the snake's strong embrace, and she feared that her lungs would cave in on any given second.

The snake loosened its grip at his command. He seemed very pleased with the way she had reacted.

"She's very precise, and very patient. She could spend an entire week breaking your bones one by one," he said. And with that, the snake squeezed her again. This time, it left her lungs alone, but it tightened itself around her midriff so hard that she could feel one of her ribs snapping like a twig. The pain was blinding, and she gave out a loud cry.

"Yes," said Voldemort. "Imagine feeling that two hundred and five times more, except with more internal bleeding and punctured organs. I can make sure that you live until you feel the last one of your bones being broken. And maybe just a little bit longer after that."

Lily bit her lip furiously to keep herself from making another sound. Still, she could not stop the tears from falling down her face. She focused on Harry, and told herself to be strong. The pain she felt now would be nothing compared to the pain of losing him.

"But it doesn't have to be this way," said Voldemort. "Thanks to you, I have finally gotten rid of my greatest enemy. As a token of my gratitude, I'm letting you choose your death, on one condition. Give me what I want, and Nagini will reward you with a quick death. Refuse me, and -" the snake gave her one more squeeze, and the broken bone poked painfully at her side, "- well, you get the idea."

He told the snake to loosen up, and he removed the body-bind curse to tempt her with a moment of peace. But she kept her mouth shut: no amount of torture could make her talk. She would keep him away from Harry as long as she could. She would not tell him anything about the archway, or about the things she knew about the future. And she would protect Severus's secret to her last breath.

He waited, and when it became obvious that she was not going to bend under his will, he sighed and made the decision for her.

"Have it your way. Nagini, kill."

He repeated the order in Parseltongue, and so the snake began to slowly crush her. It wasn't taking its time, as Voldemort had threatened; it was coiling around her so tightly that she could not breathe. Soon, her skin turned red, and her vision became blurry. The pain was unbearable, and she tried to escape it by focusing on Harry again. Her boy, her darling boy. Would he live to see another day?

It was too terrible, so she thought about Severus instead. Her love, her light. She pictured his hair, his lips, his hands, and his heart, and lost herself in the sweet memories where no suffering could follow her. The image was so vivid that she almost felt like she could hear his voice through the buzz of her own death.

When Nagini suddenly released her, she realized that it was not just her imagination. Something had hit the snake, and it slipped away from her with a vicious hiss. She heard another snap of a spell meeting its target, after which she fell on the floor face first, and had to add a selection of fresh bruises to her growing list of injuries.

It took her a moment to catch her breath – and to turn to her side, for her broken rib punished her even for the tiniest movement. But when she finally did manage to look up, she could not believe her eyes.

Severus was there.

She would have pinched herself, but she was feeling sore enough already. This wasn't a fantasy: he really was there, standing in the doorway like a beacon of light, pointing his wand firmly at Voldemort. He was all sharp eyes, windswept hair, and sheer courage that summed up everything she loved and admired about him.

She could not fathom how he had gotten there. Yet she also felt like she had somehow been expecting him to show up and rescue her ever since she had gotten there. That was just something that he did.

Voldemort stood and gaped at Severus. He did not seem to understand how Severus had gotten there, either, and he also didn't know why. Clearly, he still had so much faith in his most loyal servant that he couldn't see that he had been betrayed even after Severus had attacked him.

"Are you all right, Lily?" he asked coolly, but he kept his eyes on Voldemort.

"Yes", she replied feebly, which wasn't true at all, as he could probably tell just by listening to the sound of her voice. But she didn't want to distract him any more than she already did. She knew him well enough to tell that that unflinching look of his was hiding a tidal wave of emotions – anger, fear, concern, heartbreak, love. Somehow, he must have heard the truth she had kept from him for so long, or at least some portion of it.

She wanted to let him know how sorry she was – sorry for the mess she had caused, sorry for not telling him about Harry, sorry for everything – but this wasn't the right time for apologies. All she could do now was to sit and watch and see what would happen next.

"What is this, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Even now, the connection between Lily and Severus seemed to elude him.

Severus didn't reply. He didn't have to. Shortly after Voldemort had spoken, the rest of the crew appeared behind Severus. James. Moody. Frank and Alice Longbottom. Dorcas Meadowes. Even Remus was there, in his wheelchair. They had all come to help her.

Her heart swelled with regret and gratitude when she saw James and pieced together what must have happened. James hadn't betrayed her trust after all. He had fulfilled his end of their plan and alerted the Order, just like he had promised. He had even summoned Severus.

They all gathered around Voldemort and pointed their wands at him. It wasn't until then when he seemed to understand where Severus really stood. The realization sent him in a fit of rage. He raised his hand and tried to cast the killing curse on Severus, but seven different counter curses foiled the attempt.

Again, Voldemort stared at Severus, as if the two of them were the only people in the room. He looked gutted, wounded, like the betrayal of trust was the greatest crime ever committed by either one of them. Severus's face looked like it had been carved out of stone; most of the people there didn't caught the mixed nuances in his eyes.

"Give it up," said Severus. "We've grounded the place. You can't escape. This is the end of the road for you."

Voldemort's red eyes were blazing again. "I can't be killed."

The quiet between them lasted for a few more seconds, as both parties silently reviewed their options. There were none. There was only one way to go from here.

Voldemort raised his wand again, and then it was on.

The air in the room became thick with curses and hexes that flew back and forth between the man in the middle and the seven fighters around him. Voldemort was outnumbered, but he much stronger and way more experienced than the others. He could shoot a powerful spell at Moody while simultaneously blocking a combined attack from Frank and Alice. He disarmed Remus with one hand and diverted Dorcas's hex with another.

Most of the time, he kept his eyes on Severus. It was obvious to everyone that there was at least one person the Dark Lord was trying to take down, even if the battle would end with him being captured. When he finally zeroed in on Severus, he relied on one of his favourite tricks – Fiendfyre. A powerful bolt of fire in the shape of a serpent spiraled towards Severus at full speed; he got out of the way in the nick of time, but the curtains caught fire, which soon began to spread all around the room.

The snake Nagini joined the fight eventually. It slithered around the room trying to bite the enemies of its master, but as soon as Remus spotted it from across the room, the tables got turned.

"The snake!" he shouted. "Moody, it's the snake! That snake is the last Horcrux!"

Moody heard him, but so did Voldemort: the Dark Lord instantly turned his attention to the auror and shouted something in Parseltongue. Nagini began to speed towards the door.

"Don't let it get away!" shouted Remus. He had lost his own wand, and he could only watch their only chance at true victory fleeing the scene as fast as it could. "Kill the snake, and Voldemort will be mortal again! Do it! Use Fiendfyre!"

Moody was still caught up in a fierce duel with Voldemort, but James was free to answer Remus's call. With one swift wave of his wand, he grabbed the snake and tossed it into the flames. It burned to a crisp in instantly, giving out a loud screech that sounded uncomfortably human.

As Voldemort watched his familiar die in the fire, he suddenly seemed to understand what was going on: these people had discovered his greatest secret, and they had discovered it a long time ago. He had just witnessed the destruction of the last remaining piece of his splintered soul.

The shock of it kept him distracted just long enough for Moody to disarm him. Suddenly, the fight was over; Voldemort stood unarmed surrounded by seven enemies, and he was now as vulnerable as any one of them.

Severus was the first one to step forward. The others let him do it alone, as if they had silently made a mutual decision that he should be the one to end it.

And Tom Riddle gazed at him in despair. He looked weak, old, and so very scared – there wasn't a trace of the Dark Lord they had all come to know left in him.

"Severus, please," he begged.

Maybe he was touched by Riddle's humanity, or maybe it was just that he had never killed a man before. Perhaps he knew that it would change him forever – that he would not be the same after taking a life, even if that life belonged to the dreaded Lord Voldemort, who had brought so much evil into the world. Whatever it was, something akin to pity flashed in Severus's eyes when he saw his former master at his weakest. Anyone who caught that look might have thought that he did not have it in him.

But in the end, Severus did speak those two decisive words. He did it softly and sadly, but effectively enough to get the job done. A flash of green light illuminated the room, and then the man once known as the Dark Lord dropped dead on the floor, much like Dumbledore before him.

A deep silence landed between the seven of them. They looked at each other in disbelief, and they all waited someone to say something that would help them make sense of this strange mess they found themselves in. The truth and the reasons lied scattered around them; they all knew bits and pieces about the complicated set of events that had lead them here, but none of them knew the whole of it.

The important thing was, of course, that they had really done it: they had finally defeated Lord Voldemort, just like they had always wanted. And yet none of them knew how to react. They ended up just staring at the dead body for a long time, until Dorcas Meadowes broke the stillness and moved over to put out the curtains.

Lily, however, missed most of this. She hadn't seen or heard anything for some time now.

Before James had thrown Nagini into the fire, the snake had gone on and executed Voldemort's final command; it had sneaked up on Lily and dug its venomous fangs deep into the soft flesh of her left arm.