Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters. I do this for fun.

Warnings: Violence, Language, spoilers for OotP

Archive: FFN

Author's note: This story is a crossover with Neil Gaiman's incredible graphic novels The Sandman. 

The Stormcrow

A harry potter fic

What you need to know before you start: there are seven beings that aren't gods, who existed before humanity dreamed of gods and will exist after the last god is dead. They are called the Endless. They are embodiments of (in order of age) Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair and Delirium.

Approximately three hundred years ago, Destruction abandoned his realm.  --Neil Gaiman Brief Lives

Chapter 1

What the sibyl said.

From atop the Astronomy Tower, Severus Snape watched the last of the thestral-drawn carriages leave Hogwarts.  Finally, they were gone.  That annoying Harry Potter was gone for the next three months.  Three months of not having to constantly monitor the brat's every move for fear that he would inadvertently betray the Order.  That was now someone else's job, and they were welcome to it.

All in all, it hadn't been a bad year though. Black was dead, (that thought always threatened to make him smile) mostly through the recklessness of his own godson, and through his own carelessness.  Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person, he smirked. Of all people, Snape appreciated the irony.

No, now all Snape had to worry about was spying for the Order, Voldemort discovering his duplicity, Fudge becoming more idiotic and in his spare time getting his lessons ready for the fall.  Nothing to worry about at all, the sarcastic voice in his head told him. A vacation was what he really needed. Instead he got a handful of minute atop a tower. He raised his head and let the breeze pull through his black hair.

Snape knew it was unusual for him to be up in the Tower, but once in a great while he felt the need to feel the wind and allow himself to indulge in memories of wilder times.  His robes flapped in the wind, like the distant beating of black wings…

He heard footsteps behind him and instinctively curled his hand around his wand.  He knew there was no one at the school that would attack him, but it was good to keep one's reflexes razor sharp.  Besides, the only sure thing one could count on was Death and taxes.

"Severus?"  A woman's voice. Oh joy. Sybil Trelawney.

"Professor Trelawney," he said, keeping his voice bland and his eyes fixed on the retreating carriages.  He made no remark on the fact that her appearance was as unusual as his own at the top of the tower, even more so.  That would make it seem that he was interested in her conversation, which he definitely was not.

"I know how you feel," she said as she came up to stand next to him. "I miss them already too," she went on oblivious to his curling lip at her ridiculous statement. 

"Mmm," was all Snape could think to say that wouldn't outright call her an idiot.  Instead he gathered his robes and turned to go down the steps. Now that his solitary contemplation was broken, he had no wish to remain.  His step was interrupted when a body fell against his. Frowning in irritation, he instinctively caught the former Divination professor before she could hit the flagstones. 

"Professor Trelawney?" he asked, wondering if the female was having a stroke.

"He who is not lost will be found." She said, her voice flat and harsh, her entire body ridged in his arms.

"What?" he snapped. "What are you talking about?  Who is not lost?" Snape resisted the urge to shake her. The woman spewed enough nonsense already while she was conscious. 

Not hearing his question, she rasped, "In the islands with the temples of the forgotten gods, the storm brews. The wings that fanned the flames will beat again, and the Harbinger will once more fly. The Dark Lord will seek to stop him but none can stand before the storm."  

Professor Trelawney's eyes fluttered behind those awful glasses, then focused on Snape's face peering down at her own. He looked poleaxed, she thought with some confusion. "Severus?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I must have stumbled. Thank you for catching me."

He gaped at her for a second, and then his face resumed its customary scowl. "No need to thank me," he replied helping her to her feet. He was studying her with an intensity that unnerved her, his black eyes glittering. "Are you well?"

She brushed her robes and nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Very well," he said and swept away, his black robes rustling like restless wings. 

If she had looked closer into his eyes, Professor Trelawney might have been surprised that the glittering she had noticed were actually tiny bolts of lightning flickering deep in the blackness.  But she hadn't and soon forgot that he had even been there as she watched the last of the carriages draw out of sight.

TBC