Title: Come What May

Author: DuchessAndromeda

Rating: Pg-13

Author's Notes: Err.. yeah, sorry everyone!! See, this was supposed to be out a few weeks ago (in honor of PK, my beta, having a birthday), but my parents have been finding excuses to force me outside, of all things. BUT Chapter nine is almost done, so everything should be hunky dory in another couple of days! Thanks everyone for being so patient, and for all the wonderful reviews that I've received. You guys and gals are just fabulous.

Lies and deceit all swirled together, merging into the largest untruth of all. There was a truth left in all of this, but the threads were tangled, hopelessly ensnarled, so that the single truth was hard to find.

"Tom Riddle was an angry man, but first he was simply a scared child. His life in the orphanage was hard on him, and he learned quickly that it was the smaller, quieter children who were more likely to be harassed by the older ones, as it was thought that they wouldn't fight back. He taught himself to show nothing of what he really thought, aided by some worn-out books that he had found one day in a rubbish bin. However, the man in charge of the orphanage didn't like the boys who spoke out against their "betters" and attempted to put the fear of the One God into young Tom. This resulted in massive blood loss, and amnesia." There were nearly tears in the eyes of Death, but Harry knew that Death would not cry for just a loss of memory. There was something more here, something unsaid…

"But sir, if Riddle had amnesia, that how did he know all that stuff about himself when I met him in the Chamber of Secrets? How did he regain his memory?" Death smiled at Harry then. A small smile, conveying so expertly the pain twined with sadness that Harry felt his own heart constrict with grief.

"In most cases, a person with amnesia would be cured rather quickly. A few hours or days, and they would be fine again. However, there are sometimes problems with making everything that they had learned fit with what they knew before. And some of the people around him were… convincing. Keep in mind that this was the late 20's and early 30's, and that Grindelwald was rapidly gaining power in the wizarding world. The world was different then, Spare the Rod and spoil the child and all that. At that time, simple spells seemed even more magical, and a child's imagination could rapidly run away with him." The white haired man whose features were so familiar to Harry, even if the younger couldn't remember where he had seen them before, looked expectantly at him, as if asking him to assemble the pieces to a galactic puzzle. Slowly, Harry began to speak.

Harry Potter wasn't breathing. That much even the farthest reaches of the vast crowd that had gathered around number four Privet Drive knew. To some parts of this crowd, those words conjured up vague impressions of a small boy with unruly black hair that had followed after Petunia Dursley for many years. To some, like the police officers, it brought only the vague anxiety and sadness that most decent people felt when they heard that someone nearby was in trouble. But to the majority of the people gathered in this usually so prim and proper muggle neighbourhood, the very idea that Harry Potter wasn't breathing was enough to send them into a panic. This was their hero, the only person to survive the killing curse! Was Death so cruel as to take him away now, at the very time when it seemed that they would need him most?

Under his breath, Snape said a spell that would ward the house and enable those inside to work in silence, well away from the raising panic that the outside was emitting. Poppy sent him a grateful look before devoting her full attention back to the Potter boy still lying in Dumbledore's arms.

As a child, Severus Snape had dreamed big dreams. Of being accepted and loved for who and what he was. He had thought that he had found that with Voldemort, a family that would care for him and accept him no matter what. He had used the mirror of Erised on occasion, and was surprised how things changed. The variations on the same tune of love and tranquility. Now, Dumbledore was the only one who had truly believed in him, even the other members of the Order did not. And his only chance for being truly free of the madman that had claimed so much of Severus' life already was dead, or dying.

Distraction. He needed to distract himself from these thoughts. But there was nothing to distract himself with! Even the whimperings of the muggle had ceased, and now the only sound was Moody clunking down the stairs, and - was that crying? A quick glance around the room revealed that it was none of the usual suspects, or even anyone in this room. In fact, if he didn't know any better, and he had to because the alternative was simply impossible, he would have thought that the sound was coming from under the stairs.

But that was impossible!

Wasn't it?

As Alastor Moody came down the stairs of the modern muggle dwelling, he was greeted by silence broken mainly by Poppy as she said something to Minerva or one of the others around her in an effort to save the boy's life. He was also greeted by the usual Snape glare, lessened slightly by tight lines of worry around the younger man's eyes.

"What?"

"Shh. Just listen. Do you hear that?" Moody cast Snape a look. He of all people should know that Moody heard more than most and that he should have been more specific. His stomach wasn't tight with warning yet, so there was still time enough for him to play along. Let's see, orders from Poppy, Minerva, Weasely, and Granger's replies, Dumbledore, Snape's breathing, and then.. wait! That can't be right.

"Who's that crying?" Snape shook his head.

"None of ours are missing. Either in here or easily seen out there. As far as I know, no one has been stupid enough to go near the cupboard, much less climb inside." They looked at each other. Snape had been an Auror once, and knew the basic signals that never really changed. Moody came the rest of the way down the stairs and waited for Snape to move into position, wand pointed at the cupboard door. As soon as Snape had a clear shot, Moody flipped the latch and swung it open. To his surprise, Snape went even paler and seemed incapable of speech. Curious now, Moody gave a look through with his magical eye, and found himself, too, unable to speak, with the exception of one word...

"Merlin!"