Redemption

by Aniroaldawen

Inspired by a picture by Erin J. Kluk, found at Elfwood.

Take me.

The most feared wizard in the world lays not fifty feet away, a crumpled heap of rags and dust. Kneeling over him is the most famous scarred wizard in the world, bleeding, bruised, panting. Alive. Very much alive. Around me, hooded and masked men fling themselves to the ground, sobbing, shrieking, pleading for mercy from the multitude of Order members currently swarming the ground of Grimmauld Place. And I...I, one of Voldemort's greatest-supporters-turned-greatest-spy-for-Dumbledore...I fall to my knees, hands to the sky. Take me. Take me now.

The pain still sears through my right forearm, the pain that exploded in the spot where my life was forever cursed when the Killing Curse again rebounded upon Voldemort. The boy...Harry, he has a name, I should call him by his name, he has freed me...and the Dark Lord seemed to fight for ages after the red-haired boy fell to the Dark Lord's wand. The words Harry shouted seconds before the end ring through my head. "Checkmate, Voldie. You've slaughtered one too many of my friends. It ends, now. Tonight." Voldemort's laughter, and his response: "You are a pathetic little flea, and I will crush you now!! Avada Kedavra!!"

It was too late for Harry to do anything, and the boy stood so still, his fate reflected in his eyes, he was resigned to it, resigned to dying...and a white flash surrounded the boy, and the green flash struck it and was flung backwards, upon the soulless man who stared down his fate with shock and terror...it happened so quickly. The man who spent years and years chasing immortality, ended in mere seconds, reduced to ash and rags on the ground.

It seems as though ages have passed since that moment, but really those around me are still reeling from the shock of the tremor that passed through the earth, the shock of seeing the battle for wizardkind so suddenly end. The Death Eaters are nothing now, without their lord and master. They cower like the worthless whelps they are, pleading for mercy and pardon, fleeing into the night with tears streaming. And I...I plead for death to find me.

So long I have waited for this moment, so long spent working for the side of light, yet it was not enough. I have done too much wrong. The taint of slaughtering my mother and father, who were Dark but becoming too strong for Voldemort's liking, the deed that first got me accepted into the Death Eaters' fold, all the others I have slaughtered since then in my misguided attempt at power, it runs too deep in me. I am tainted for eternity. I know this. Please, let it end now. Take me. Take me.

I feel a presence nearby. I look up. Dumbledore stands stock-still next to me, gazing at me. He knows. My eyes squeeze shut. Oh, Merlin, he knows. I am a tainted man. And the one I trust more than anyone in the world knows. Let him kill me. Let it end now. Take me. Please.

Seconds pass. Nothing happens. I open my eyes to gaze in shock upon Dumbledore's face. The man is crying. I open my mouth, but he presses a finger to his lips. "No. Wait. Your time is coming," he says, a barely-audible rumble.

The agony is burning inside me, eating at my soul. Oh, Merlin, I am cursed...why will death not come for me? What does it wait for? I am ready for my eternal punishment. I welcome it with open arms. Yet it does not come to me. And...and...I feel a warmth on my arm. A warmth, where the Dark Mark is seared into my flesh.

No. No, it cannot be...I grab my left sleeve, yank it open, tearing the black fabric covering the Mark. It glows there on my forearm, as ever it did after the Dark Lord's summons.

No...

The glow is more than that. The glow is not sickly red as it was when Voldemort called us. It is...no...it is pure white...pure snow white, the color of innocence and redemption...

I blink once, twice. They are still there, the faint beams of light emanating from the cursed brand. They are growing brighter and brighter. And my throat tightens as I feel it, feel the curse of service to Voldemort being cleansed from my blood, feel the hideous mark slowly fading away...My head goes back and I gaze in disbelief at heaven, throat choked with tears now, tears snaking down my cheeks, and the Mark is going, and the light is so bright, so blindingly bright...

The light fades, the warmth goes. I am frozen, afraid to open my eyes. What if it's still there? What if this is a dream, and I wake up tomorrow and am summoned to hear still more of Voldemort's plans for taking over Hogwarts and killing Dumbledore? What if...I slowly reach with my right hand, tenatively place it near where the Mark is, slowly move upwards...No scar meets my trembling fingers. No scar. My eyes fly open, and I stare through teary eyes at the white, unscarred skin. It is gone. The Dark Mark is gone.

I look up at Dumbledore. Dumbledore has all the answers. He will know. I force my shaking voice to work. "Is it..."

"It is gone, Severus. It is over. You are redeemed, Severus Snape of the Order of the Phoenix. You are forgiven." The twinkle is returning to Dumbledore's eyes, as he basks in his victory, his complete victory, the Light's victory over the forces of Evil, as has happened so many times before, as will happen again and again, time without end. And my gaze shifts to the one who is our savior this time around.

I force myself to my feet and stumble over to the boy...Harry...Harry, who stands looking as white and teary as I over the impotent rags Voldemort once wore. Harry, the boy I loathed for seven years through endless Potions classes, who flubbed millions of concoctions, whose father played a horrid trick on me nearly leading to my death...Harry, who opened the door for my freedom, Harry, through whom I have found my redemption. And this thought rings in my head louder than any other...Harry is my redeemer.

He stares at me with, for once, no hatred. Only sorrow is mired in those green orbs, sorrow for all his suffering and that of his friends and the entire world at the hands of the Dark Lord. And I long suddenly to take all that sorrow away, to show him he has naught to be sorrowful for, that he should rejoice at the fact that he has won over the darkness. I do something I haven't done for nearly thirty years, something I once would never have dreamed of doing to this boy especially. I reach toward him...and he does not flinch, does not pull away as my arms wrap around him, and his arms encircle my trembling body, and together we grieve and rejoice, the sorrow and delight flowing from our eyes endlessly, we who are no longer foes through uniting to defeat a common enemy. And my lips form the sincerest words I have ever spoken.

"Thank you, Harry."