Crimson Emeralds
by The Velvet Ghost

Chapter Four – The Truth

Author's brief notes – my apologies for grammatical errors in this chapter, but I've beta-read it myself and you all know what I'm like. Feel free to point out my bloopers – we'll do a group beta-read, shall we? Prizes for whoever can find the most spelling mistakes.

Looking around at the miserable darkness of the basement, Harry could think of only one thing to say. He looked up at Lupin, quizzically, and asked, "Remus... is this a joke?"

Remus smiled down at him, put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the lift doors, through bags of laundry and broken appliances, to a small dark corner tucked out of the way. "It isn't, I'm afraid. I did expect somewhere a little more comfortable. I was shown everything in one of the rooms..."

"Everything?" said Harry. "What's everything? What exactly were you shown?"

"Various things," said Remus, absently, as he searched for something amongst the debris of electrical gadgetry. "Then again, we will need somewhere more private than a hotel room for the repercussions..."

"Repercussions?" said Harry anxiously. "Look, Remus... this is scaring me. What are you going to show me? And why will we need privacy for afterwards?"

At last, Remus had found what he was looking for. He scooped something out of the mess of appliances, dragging it to a patch of empty concrete floor, and Harry saw that it was a pensieve. From the inside pocket of his robes, Remus drew a small bottle filled with the eerie silver shimmer of liquid memories.

Harry went quiet. Remus smiled, and beckoned him closer. Obediently, Harry came and knelt by Remus's side, looking apprehensively into the pensieve.

"Before we begin, I want you to know that I'm here for you," said Remus quietly. "Whatever you may see, whatever questions you have, I will answer. If you have any doubts, I want to hear them Harry, so we can talk through them. Don't let them fester."

"Alright," said Harry. He watched as Remus unscrewed the bottle, pouring the contents gently into the pensieve, which began to swirl. "Are you coming with me?"

"Of course," said Remus. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "In your own time, Harry."

Uncomfortable on the cold concrete floor, Harry gazed into the depths of the pensieve and wondered what it was that he was about to be shown, what could possibly require such tight secrecy. Did he really want to know? If he asked to leave, now, would Remus let him?

And would he regret it?

With a last glance into Remus's reassuring tawny eyes, Harry gripped the edges of the pensieve and lowered his face into the pensieve. Everything began to swirl wildly around him. His knees lifted from the solid ground, and for a moment he was simply lost, aware only of Remus's hand on his shoulder, before everything began to slow down once more. At last, it stopped, and his feet hit solid ground.

Dumbledore's old office materialised around them, just as it had been when Harry last saw it. All of Dumbledore's little silver trinkets whirred and clicked and tinkled, one by the door emitting a gentle puff of steam as if to welcome them. Behind the desk, alive and well as Harry always remembered him, was Albus Dumbledore. He was smiling bemusedly as he trailed his wand around the misty silver contents of a pensieve, apparently deep in thought. Harry watched, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He glanced over his shoulder to peer down the staircase, wondering if Dumbledore was expecting a visitor - when to his ultimate surprise, he heard Dumbledore say his name.

"Well, Harry..."

He whipped round. Dumbledore was still looking into the pensieve, smiling more widely, and his gentle blue eyes were bright with amusement.

"Sir?" said Harry, unsure, and Remus smiled.

"Only a memory, Harry."

Dumbledore looked up from the pensieve, glancing around the room as if looking for somebody. His eyes settled on the doorway. Harry felt as if Dumbledore could actually see him, was talking to him, and a prickle raced up his spine.

"This is possibly going to be the most peculiar way I've ever sent a message," said Dumbledore. "Then again, I suppose it is a rather peculiar message... and I want you to believe. I want you to trust me, Harry. Naturally, I needed to get this message to you in a way that you would find the easiest to trust, a form that would ease some of the doubts you will most probably have. I hope it will be alright."

He cleared his throat, picked up a cup of tea from its delicate purple saucer and took a sip.

"If all goes according to plan," he said, "then this message will be shown to you by Remus Lupin, who has also been given some extra information. He should be able to answer a few of your questions, should it be required."

Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. Harry did not know what to think. Dumbledore was looking directly into his eyes, speaking with such confidence and warmth that Harry found it impossible to believe it was just a memory. Surely, if he moved, Dumbledore's gaze would follow him around the room.

"Harry, if this message is ever given to you, it will be because I am not here in person to explain the situation to you," he said. "The most likely explanation is that I have died... or been murdered."

Harry felt a hot, angry flush cross his chest. Remus put an arm around his shoulders, and said, "It's alright."

"And this may come as a shock," Dumbledore was saying, taking another casual drink from his tea, "but I am fully aware that it will be Severus who has killed me."

At once, Harry's jaw fell. He looked wildly up at Remus, and then back at Dumbledore, who was speaking again.

"No doubt you are wondering how I know this information," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "And it could well be a long story, Harry. I thought that simply sitting here and explaining it all to you would be both difficult to believe and boring, and so I have carefully put together a collection of memories belonging to myself and Severus."

He reached into the drawer of his desk, and extracted the same tiny bottle that Remus had added to the pensieve. He shook it slightly. The light danced across the surface.

"After this message, a series of memories will begin," explained Dumbledore kindly. "It may be a lot to take in, but I'm sure that Remus will stay with you. As I make this memory, he does not yet know what is due to happen. No doubt that when he is guiding you through each memory, he will have only learnt of the situation a few hours or days beforehand, so please, do not turn on him or blame him for anything you may see. Both of you are together in these strange events. I assume that if you are being shown these memories, he has already viewed them and believes that they are genuine. I would ask you to trust him, Harry."

Harry swallowed. His throat felt dry, and suddenly he was anxious, paranoid even. Dumbledore knew that Snape was going to murder him, so why hadn't he done something to stop him? Was Dumbledore finally going to admit that he had been wrong about Snape?

"I do hope that you were not present when Severus did what he had to do," said Dumbledore, and for the first time, there was a sad flicker in his eyes. "If you were, I must apologise for any trauma you have suffered, any guilt, or other painful emotions. Please, do not feel sorry. Also, if you did have to view what took place, I doubt that Severus will have been around afterwards to explain what had happened, and nor would you have believed him... but Harry, I want you to believe now. I want you to trust. If you had to view my death, and have believed Severus Snape to be acting out of malice, I must beg you to let go of those feelings. It is vital for you to understand..."

Harry shook his head, feeling a painfully hard lump in his throat, and Remus's arm tightened gently around his shoulders. "You'll understand soon," promised Remus. "I was doubtful at first. The memories explain everything, Harry..."

"You may wonder why I did not tell you any of this when I was alive," Dumbledore was saying, and he picked up his cup of tea, taking a sip, looking perfectly happy. He did not seem like a man who knew he would someday be murdered. "The simple fact of the matter is that I knew you would try to stop the series of events, Harry. Please, do not take it as offensive. If anything, it is actually a compliment, that you would be noble and courageous enough to try and stop what must happen."

He put down his tea.

"Unfortunately though, Harry, it is inevitable. I am old, as much as it pains me to say it, and I am becoming weak. Lord Voldemort is at the height of his power. The prophecy you were shown had no mention of me, and for a purpose, Harry. It is you who will defeat Lord Voldemort. Not me. My death will not trouble me, if I know that it will better your survival, and the survival of the wizarding world. Severus has assured me that he shall not torture me a little at first."

And to Harry's surprise, he actually chuckled.

"In fact, I have a curious feeling that Severus will have some trouble," he said, amused. "I suggested Avada Kedavra, and he did argue that such a curse requires powerful intention behind it. I think that Severus will only be able to muster enough intention to knock me off my feet, perhaps."

Harry felt his skin go cold. Why hadn't he noticed? The killing curse did not knock people off their feet, as had happened to Dumbledore. Cedric Diggory had simply crumpled to the floor. Snape must have just knocked Dumbledore over, and... it was the fall.

"On with matters," said Dumbledore pleasantly, and picked up his tea once more. "My death is inevitable, Harry, and I am ready to begin my next great adventure. At the same time, you are about to start one of your own. These memories have been kindly donated by Severus Snape, who - "

A knock came on the door of Dumbledore's office, and the headmaster looked up as the door opened. Sending a flush of cold anger down the back of Harry's neck, Snape entered the room. He was slightly paler than usual.

"Headmaster?"

"Do come in, Severus. I was just making a message for Harry."

Snape stayed in the door, a frown creasing his brow. "I thought the little brat was just to be shown the memories."

"No, I thought I would add a personal touch," said Dumbledore. "Speaking of which, do you have...?"

Reaching a hand inside his robes, Snape extracted a small jar of silvery thoughts. "I have. Albus, I must speak with you... this is not necessary. There are loopholes that can - "

"No, Severus. Do give me the jar, and let us add the final piece... do you wish to say anything to Harry first?"

Snape cast a suspicious eye around the room, and said, gruffly, "There are many things I wish to say to Potter, though I would say none of them in your presence."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "There's a lot of things I'd like to say to you too, slimeball..."

Dumbledore stood up, crossing to take the jar from Snape. Harry noticed, reluctantly, that Snape was loath to hand it over. At last, he relinquished the memories. Dumbledore took them back to his desk, unscrewing the tiny glass bottle and the jar, inserting his wand carefully within and stirring.

Snape was still in the doorway, watching with a pained expression.

"Headmaster, I - "

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have always been fascinated with your fear of death, Severus... I do wonder why it is those who have been Death Eaters that fear it the most."

"This is about more than death," said Snape darkly. "Your death will - "

"Have tragic consequences for the wizarding world," said Dumbledore. "Yes, Severus, you have mentioned this before... however, my survival will have even more tragic consequences, if the new prophecy is correct."

Hearing that word, prophecy, Harry turned to look quizzically up at Remus, who simply squeezed his shoulder.

"Are you sure there is nothing else you wish to add?" Dumbledore offered kindly, as he tipped the contents of the jar gently into the bottle, using his wand to spoon out the last few wisps.

Snape's lips thinned. "Not particularly."

"Then we are done," said Dumbledore with a small smile. "Just one last memory... goodbye, Harry. Thank you."

He placed the tip of his wand to his temple, and the room began to dissolve around Harry and Remus. Instinctively, he stepped closer to Remus and watched as colours and shapes began to fly, settling themselves into place, building the stage for another memory.

As the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, Harry found himself standing outside the last place he wanted to be at the moment. The dark windows of number four, Privet Drive, peered down at him almost as if accusing him of a crime. The neatly-trimmed lawn seemed freshly mowed, as always, but something seemed wrong. Everything looked slightly different. There were the wrong flowers in the flowerbed, and the garage door was a strange shade of green that it had never been - at least, in his memory. It was hard to see properly, because all the street lamps were out and it was pitch dark, but the car parked in the drive didn't look like any car he could remember Uncle Vernon owning.

"When is this?" Harry asked, and Remus hushed him softly, pointing down the street. Harry turned to look. Just at the corner stood a figure, in long robes, and for a moment Harry felt a flicker of fear. He stepped closer to Lupin.

With a faint plink, the streetlights all flickered on, glowing like orbs of light in the darkness. Harry blinked against the sudden brightness. He could just make out the figure at the corner of the street now. Albus Dumbledore was looking back at number four, his expression gentle, as he spoke.

"Good luck, Harry," and with a pop, he disapparated.

Remus put his arm around Harry's shoulders, and guided him towards number four. "This takes place about seventeen years ago, Harry," he said softly. "If you see the bundle of blankets on the doorstep..."

"Yes?"

"It's you, Harry. Just a baby. Dumbledore arranged for you to be brought here, to your aunt and uncle, so they could look after you until it was ready for you to come to Hogwarts."

Harry, still a little startled that the blankets on the doorstep were actually him, gave a nod. "I know all this."

"Ah, now this is where things get a little complicated," said Remus. Carefully, he stepped over the huddle of gnomes by the flowerbed, resting against the front wall of the Dursley's house, looking down at the front door step. Harry could just see himself nestled inside the blankets, drifting off to sleep. It was a very strange sensation.

"Complicated?" said Harry. "What do you mean?"

"Nobody has ever told you this," said Remus, "but the night's events didn't quite end there..."

As Harry saw Remus glance up towards the front wall, he turned around. Three figures were hurrying down the street towards the house, careful to walk just out of the glow of the streetlights, as if wary of being seen. Harry could hear the click of high heels on the pavement, and judging by the brisk sway of the middle figure's hips, it was a woman. She was accompanied by a tall man in a long cloak, and to her right was a shorter man. As they turned down the drive and the streetlight caught their faces, Harry realised who they were.

Severus Snape, in an ankle-length cloak, looked as if he couldn't have been a day over twenty-five. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, slightly past his shoulders, and he was even paler than usual. Harry didn't recognise the woman, a tall witch with curly hair, wearing high-heeled boots and carrying a wand. To her right was a much younger Remus Lupin, without a streak of grey in his hair, and he looked the calmest out of the three.

"Who's the witch?" Harry whispered to the Remus at his side.

"Nixie Plinkett," Remus murmured. "She was in the Order, around the time you were born. She was killed not long after this night... a revenge attack, by Death Eaters. She and Severus were involved for a while."

Harry somehow couldn't imagine Snape ever having a girlfriend, but left the story for another day. He watched the three people approach the doorstep. With a graceful swish of her wand, Nixie Plinkett cast what Harry recognised as a silencing charm, as the younger Lupin gathered the baby Harry into his arms, lifting him off the cold stone.

"Terrible scar," he murmured softly. "Do you think we should fix it?"

"Best not to do anything except what Dumbledore asked," said Nixie. She had a faint American accent, as if she'd spent a few years there and brought it back as a souvenir. "Besides, it's only a scar."

"Poor Harry," sighed Remus. "Still... it's best to do this quickly, in case we wake the muggles... I'd rather not spend a night in jail..."

Harry was watching Snape. He was clearly agitated, looking down the street as if waiting for somebody to jump out and attack. The tip of one black dragon-hide boot was tapping against the pavement quietly.

"Sevvy?" said Nixie quietly, and Snape turned to look at her. Amazingly, she was not rebuked for the pet name.

"Mm?"

She ran a hand down his arm. "Loosen up, doll. It won't take long, then we can head home. How's that sound?"

Snape said nothing. The young Remus looked up, the bundle of blankets still cradled in the crook of his arm.

"Severus?" he said. "You're not having doubts, are you?"

"No," said Snape. "No, of course not, Lupin."

Remus didn't seem to buy this story. He gave Snape a reassuring look, and said, "It's the only way that Albus will trust you, Severus... after this, he'll have complete faith in you. You won't earn his trust any other way."

"I know," said Snape quietly. As Nixie moved closer to him, he put an arm around her waist, absent-mindedly. "I think it would be best to get this over and done with, before I have time to reconsider..."

Nixie peered up at him. "If you're worried, you know, you can think again. There's no going back. They call it an Unbreakable Vow for a reason."

Still hiding under a hanging basket with Lupin, Harry raised his eyebrows.

Snape didn't answer her, as if he didn't trust himself not to make a scathing comment. "This would be easier kneeling. I would rather not make this Vow, only for you to drop the baby on its head, Lupin."

"I won't," said Lupin with a gentle frown, but all the same, he knelt obligingly on the ground in front of the doorstep. Snape knelt before him. Nixie crouched, holding up her wand, as Snape and Lupin joined hands. Harry leant closer.

"Will you, Severus Snape, protect Harry Potter from all harm, for as long as you are physically able?" said Remus quietly.

"I will," said Snape.

From the tip of Nixie's wand burst a stream of flames that lashed themselves tightly around Snape and Remus's hands. Snape closed his eyes.

"Will you do everything in your power to keep him from harm?"

"I will."

A second fiery rope coiled tightly around their fingers, burning in the darkness and throwing dancing amber lights across the Dursley's front door.

"And will you, completely and faithfully, be loyal to Albus Dumbledore and turn your back on Lord Voldemort?"

Snape's eyes flew open. This question had apparently not been planned. He glared hatefully at Lupin, torn for several tense seconds, before his eyes closed once more. He hesitated.

"I will," he said, and as the final ribbon of flame tightened around their hands, his lips thinned. "I will regret this later..."

"Shhh," said Nixie softly, and reaching out, brushing her fingertips over his cheek. "Ask the questions."

"Will you, Remus Lupin, protect Harry Potter from all harm, for as long as you are physically able?"

"I will."

A fourth burning snake wound tightly about their hands.

"Will you do everything in your power to keep him from harm?" asked Snape, and once more came that quiet affirmation.

"I will."

As the fifth fiery rope tangled in place, Snape was quiet, thinking. He wore an expression that suggested he was struggling to decide what delightful promise he could make Remus take. Harry suspected it would be something awful.

He was very wrong.

Snape looked up, seriously, and their fingers tightened against each other.

"And will you, should the time come when Potter learns of my past... of the things he may not want to know... will you assist me in explaining?"

"Of course I will," said Remus, and as the final bond coiled amongst the rest, there was a soft flash. Each fiery snake burst into pieces, crackling, until the flames flickered out and the doorstep was plunged once more into soft darkness.

"There," said Nixie. She pushed her wand back up the sleeve of her striped jumper. "All done. Didn't hurt, did it?"

"Physically? No," said Snape.

She smiled, as if his bitterness amused her, and stood up. Remus placed Harry back on the doorstep, tucking the blankets around him carefully, and smoothed a hand over his forehead.

"You're safe now, Harry," he promised. "I challenge any Death Eater to hurt you... even Severus can't now."

"Hilarious," said Snape coldly. He had stood, his arm around Nixie's waist again. "Is there anything else? It's late, Lupin, and I believe there's a glass of wine beckoning me back to the fireside."

Remus chuckled, standing up. "You shouldn't lie, Severus. I know very well that you'll both be heading for the nearest muggle pub."

"Hmm," said Snape. As Nixie moved away down the path, and Snape followed her backwards, he said to Remus, "Tell Dumbledore I did it willingly."

"And you did," said Remus. "I'm very proud of you."

Snape snorted. Without another word, he turned and left after Nixie, whose auburn curls were bouncing gently in the glow of the street lamp. By the time they reached the end of the drive, both had disapparated. Remus Lupin was left alone, looking down at Harry, smiling.

"He isn't usually like that," he told the tiny baby, who was now fast asleep, clinging to a corner of the blanket. "It's been a long day for him... he's probably tired." He redid his scarf. "Hopefully, it won't be too long before I see you again, Harry... take care..."

He tucked the ends of his scarf away, and with a faint pop, he vanished. Privet Drive began to dissolve. Harry found his feet lifting, the whole world rotating and swirling and spinning, only vaguely aware of Remus Lupin's hand on his arm.

With a faint flicker as the last streaks of colour settled in place and the world stopped turning, Harry found himself standing in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, late evening time. Through the double doors out into the grounds, Harry could see the reflection of the moon in the lake. Just like Dumbledore's office, the Entrance Hall was the same as it had always been - reassuring and familiar, as if it was Harry's home. Deep down, it always would be. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a longing sensation low in his stomach, hating that he would never go back to Hogwarts.

"Ah, now this takes place quite some time later," said Remus. "Shortly after the end of your fifth year, in fact. The students left for home a few hours ago, but - "

Somebody was coming up the corridor to the dungeons. Remus lapsed into silence, and Harry turned, watching as Severus Snape emerged into the Entrance Hall. He was wearing a very old travelling cloak, set with silver buttons that looked as if they were some kind of family heirloom, and there was a single suitcase under his arm. His expression suggested that he couldn't wait to get out of here.

Harry shuffled to one side, closer to the doors of the hospital wing so that Snape wouldn't move straight through him, but next second there was a bang so loud that Harry almost leapt out of his skin. Snape must have jumped as well, for the suitcase clattered to the floor. He wheeled around to face the doors of the hospital wing. Standing there was Sybill Trelawney. She was clutching an empty bottle of cooking sherry, and looked quite mad, her eyes wide and her hair stuck on end.

"Severus!" she cried, her voice dying to a whisper. "I... I sensed it was you. Your aura... such a terribly tragic aura. Dear Severus."

Snape was stooping, picking up his suitcase angrily. "If you don't mind, Trelawney, I have a carriage waiting and wish to leave. Perhaps when I return in September, there will be time for forecasting my grisly death..."

"Not yours, dear Severus," she said. Casting a look around the hall, as if demons were watching her from every corner, she beckoned him closer with a bony finger. "Severus... I have to tell you... last night, as I consulted my crystal ball... I had a premonition. A terrible premonition. I fear for your family."

"All my family are quite fortunately dead," said Snape coldly. "Wherever they are, I hope they're being put through as much agony as possible. Thank you for the best news I've had all year."

She stood, numbly, shaking from head to toe and looking like a quivering Christmas tree bedecked in one too many decorations. Her eyes widened, and quite suddenly, broke out in tears. "My dear man! You don't understand... but how can you understand? The burdens of the psychic realm... perhaps - no, I shall not tell you. I could not force you to leave with the knowledge that I have, my dear Severus..."

Snape sighed. He moved to push past her, and Harry watched him head towards the doors, his travelling cloak flaring behind him like the wings of some black angel. Just as he reached the steps, a voice spoke, and even Harry stopped dead.

"Crimson emeralds..."

Snape turned, a frown on his face, glowering at Trelawney with the deepest irritation. The moment that he saw her though, his face slackened. His anger seemed to dissolve. Harry knew why.

Trelawney was making a prophecy. She had gone completely stiff, her eyes rolled back into her head, the sherry bottle clutched in a white-knuckled fist that was shaking ever so faintly. Her mouth was wide open, and from her throat had come a harsh, cruel voice that sent shudders down Harry's spine.

"What did you say?" said Snape, and a deep tremor racked Trelawney's rigid spangled frame.

"Crimson emeralds... the Dark Lord's power rages once more, but a union will be formed of onyx black and white gold. Slytherin's banner glitters through the eyes of ancient enemies - the son of a dead man, and the son of a dying bloodline, soon to be bound by flaming serpents... only together, a single force, will shattered prophecies be fulfilled. The crimson emeralds must unite or the Dark Lord will conquer all, bringing death to our world."

And with that, her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor in a drunken heap, knocking herself between the eyes with the sherry bottle. She began to snore.

Snape stood, shocked and wide-eyed for several moments as he rapidly repeated the prophecy under his breath. Abandoning Professor Trelawney's crumpled body on the ground, even dropping his suitcase, he turned and went flying towards the marble staircase, heading for Dumbledore's office, his robes flying behind him.

Remus's hand closed gently on Harry's wrist.

"Onto the next," he said, and the Entrance Hall began to whirl around them in a storm of light and shadow.

Once more, Dumbledore's office appeared before them. Behind his desk, Dumbledore was writing a letter of some kind, tickling his chin with the end of a very long, vibrantly purple quill. The calendar behind his desk, featuring different varieties of fancy teapot, gave the date as two weeks before the start of Harry's sixth year.

Harry sat down quietly in one of the chairs at Dumbledore's desk. Part of him wanted a pensieve of his own, so he could unload some of the new things he had learnt - it was hard, trying to deal with them all and work out where this was going. He felt like he was stuck in the middle of a very complicated book, whose end he wouldn't understand unless he ploughed through the rest.

There was no time to think. From behind him came a bang so loud that Harry leapt out of the chair, spinning on the spot to see Snape blow into the office. He was wearing full-length Death Eater robes, a white mask held in his left hand, and judging from his blotchy complexion he had sprinted quite a distance to get here.

"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore. He pushed aside his parchment. "Is something amiss?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "No. I thought it would be entertaining to pay you a very hasty visit, in full Death Eater uniform, and make the experience more authentic by running from Hogsmeade."

The sarcastic bite deflected off Dumbledore's calm face, as he stood, drawing a chair for Snape to collapse into. "Do tell me everything. Tea?"

"Brandy?" muttered Snape. He looked faintly surprised as Dumbledore waved his wand, conjuring a hefty glass of brandy and nudging it into Snape's hands. "Thank you."

"Any time. Now, I believe you have something to tell me."

"Draco Malfoy," said Snape. He met Dumbledore's eyes heavily. "I think that Trelawney's prophecy might have some weight behind it, Headmaster. He was initiated into the Death Eaters today."

"Oh, dear... was he Marked?"

"He was." Snape looked away. "I was given the honour of doing it."

There was silence for a moment, before Dumbledore spoke again. "Severus, I can read you like a book. Your title is 'feeling guilty'. Do not... refusing would only have made Lord Voldemort entirely suspicious."

"I'm not particularly comforted, Albus."

"I know." Dumbledore sighed, and gave Snape a very calming, concerned expression. "He is now a Death Eater then, Severus... this is something of a problem."

"More of a problem than you are aware," said Snape. "He has been given a... a mission."

"Oh?"

"To prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort, Severus, do call him by his real name. And what is this mission?"

Snape was silent for a few moments. Somehow, Harry knew what was coming. When it came, he was proved horribly correct.

"To... to kill you, Albus."

"I see," said Dumbledore calmly. He took the brandy from Severus's hands, drank a good quarter of it and handed it back. "There, that's slightly better. Do we have any more information?"

"No," said Snape. He rubbed his forehead. "The Dark Lord has told him that whatever resources he needs are available, but it will be up to him to construct some kind of plan." Sipping at the brandy, he added, "I shall try to wheedle some information out of him, Albus... offer my assistance. If he confides in me..."

"Yes, that would be helpful," admitted Dumbledore. "This is an interesting development... I have been through Sybill's prophecy a few more times. As far as I can tell, her psychic alter-ego has been indulging itself in one too many metaphors."

"Do you have any idea what it might mean?" asked Snape. He sat back, cradling the brandy, taking another mouthful.

"Yes, I do. We were correct in our first thoughts... I am quite certain that the prophecy refers to Draco and Harry. Harry would be onyx black, the son of a dead man and the crimson part of the prophecy - his hair, parentage and school house respectively. Draco's half of the prophecy is similar... white gold, the son of a dying bloodline, emeralds."

"And Slytherin's banner?"

"Ah, now this I only figured out a few hours ago... I was originally worried, but it came to me, while having my morning bath. Their eyes, Severus. Green and silver."

"Of course..." Snape looked up from the brandy glass. "And flaming serpents?"

"That still puzzles me," said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. "Obviously, your Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry is in place, which could possibly be flaming serpents. I cannot see how that would tie Draco in."

"He is my godson," said Snape, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"Something more than that, Severus... I believe we have other developments, before we understand the prophecy in its entirety." Dumbledore settled behind his desk, refilled the brandy glass with a flick of his wand and sighed. "It seems much more of a challenge now, doesn't it?"

"Having Potter and Draco co-operate?"

"Yes... I do worry..."

"Draco didn't seem... particularly happy, at his initiation ceremony. He was shifting a lot. I doubt he was entirely willing." Snape looked up into Dumbledore's gentle blue eyes. "If I could coax the boy to confide in me, I could work out whether he is utterly committed to the Dark Lord. And if he is not, I could persuade him."

"Yes. That would be excellent, Severus, if you could achieve that for me."

"I will try."

"Keep me informed on whatever happens..."

As Snape stood up, took a last mouthful of brandy and headed towards the door, Dumbledore called him back.

"And Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Harry shall be turning sixteen very soon."

Snape frowned. "I know."

"Must I remind you of the law?"

Snape said nothing, and so Dumbledore reminded him of the law.

"Any Unbreakable Vow performed, concerning a child who is too young to understand that Vow, must be explained to the child either before or soon after their sixteenth birthday."

"Then tell Potter."

"And it must be explained by those who made that Vow," said Dumbledore, firmly.

"Then get Lupin to tell Potter. I want nothing to do with him. The little brat abhores me, and I'm quite content to reciprocate his feelings."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore. "You still have a duty to him, Severus. It is even more imperative that you tell Harry soon... your particular Vow lost its bonder. It will be starting to deteriorate, and needs renewing."

"It isn't my fault that Nixie went blundering headfirst into an obvious trap," Snape snapped, and it was obvious that Dumbledore had touched a nerve. "Why should I be left with the stupid witch's mistakes?"

Dumbledore stood up, and crossed to the door, opening it for Snape. The dark-haired wizard seemed to understand. He moved through, and as he passed Dumbledore, the headmaster pressed the bottle of remaining brandy into Snape's hand.

"Drink away your sorrows, Severus. Will you be joining us for the staff picnic tomorrow?"

Snape shook his head. "No... I will be returning to Spinner's End tonight. The Dark Lord has placed Peter Pettigrew with me, so I may keep an eye on him..."

"On him, Severus, or he on you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not particularly. Go and drink."

Snape left the office. As Dumbledore closed the door, everything began to rotate quickly. The change from one memory to the next was getting easier, and Harry felt only mild nausea this time. His mind was spinning far more than what was outside it. Part of him longed to sit down and think, and ask questions, and make sure he understood all this correctly... but part of him didn't want to even think about thinking, until he knew it all. He owed that much to Dumbledore.

A dark, stone-walled office appeared. Harry took one look at the pickled raccoon hanging upside down in a jar and realised that this was the office of Severus Snape, except it lay in boxes, half-packed. Snape himself was sitting in an armchair with clawed feet by the fire, massaging his temples, staring morosely into the flames.

"Only one night later," Lupin murmured in Harry's ear, and he nodded.

There was a knock on the door.

"Albus?" said Snape, looking up, and the door opened. Dumbledore came into the room. He was carrying a large white rabbit with a bow around its neck, and judging by the look on Snape's face, he had not been expecting Dumbledore to bring a friend.

"It's a birthday present for Poppy Pomfrey," the headmaster explained. He sat the rabbit down on a stack of boxes. "You asked me to come and see you, Severus. Do we have news?"

"Yes." Snape frowned quietly. "I'm... Albus, I'm not entirely sure how to put it."

"I often find that being optimistic about a situation can make the words flow with more ease," said Dumbledore, settling himself in an armchair by the fire. "Every cloud has a silvery lining, Severus."

Snape thought about this. "In that case, I doubt you will die."

"See? Now, if that isn't good news, then - "

"Although I am."

A very heavy, awkward silence followed this. Snape was looking into the flames as if he saw death there, staring out at him, and he was unable to look away.

"Perhaps you should tell me the full story, before we open another bottle of brandy," said Dumbledore, calmly.

"Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange came to see me."

"Oh?"

"About Draco. Narcissa has heard what the Dark Lord intends for him to do, and she's distressed. She wants no harm to come to him. She came to me, asking if I had heard, and naturally, I told her that I had. They questioned my loyalty to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore looked up, fixing Snape with a careful gaze. "And?"

"I convinced them, Albus. They interrogated me for some time. I... I got used to creating the stories. Lying. I found myself settling into a role, of a Death Eater that would do anything to prove their loyalty. Yet... Albus, I've made a mistake. A huge mistake."

"What has happened, Severus?"

"Narcissa asked me to make an Unbreakable Vow."

Dumbledore nodded. "What have you promised to do?"

"It does not matter what I promised to do," said Snape, a little snappily, though the anger was clearly directed at himself rather than Dumbledore. "The fact remains that I cannot fulfill it. At the time, I thought there was a loophole I could exploit. I checked the magical legislation. I doubt that my loophole will ever be strong enough to protect me. Albus, I... I think that - "

"Severus... tell me the full story. There are things we can do."

"I think it better if you don't know. Truly, Albus. I hate myself enough."

"Severus."

Snape's face contorted for a moment, digging his fingers into his hair, and he hissed, "I promised that should Draco be unable to perform the task the Dark Lord has set for him, that I would do it."

Dumbledore said nothing. Snape went on.

"The loophole is that as long as Draco is alive, he is able to do what the Dark Lord has ordered. No matter how reluctant he is, or how unlikely it is, he would still be able to go through with it."

And with such a sudden display of violence that Harry jumped, Snape seized a book from the side of his chair and flung it across the room, with a snarl that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Three pickled animals crashed from their jars. Green slime oozed down the shelves, burning holes in the stone work, and Snape collapsed into his chair, covering his face.

Dumbledore, instead of being angry, looked almost thoughtful. He scraped his chair across the hearth rug to sit by Snape, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Severus... you are not going to die..." Dumbledore's withered fingers brushed back the man's greasy hair, off his face, and the old wizard looked him gently in the eye. "Do you think I would let you give up quite so easily?"

"I don't think that - ... I can't see any feasible way out of - ..."

"Shhh, Severus. Nobody, who has seen you live the life you have, would ever leave you to die quietly in a corner. Sacrifices will be made in this war, but not you."

Harry saw Dumbledore reach out with a thumb, as if rubbing a stain from Snape's cheek, but Harry couldn't see what stain it could be. He leant around. To his eternal surprise, and sending a knife-wave of guilt through him, he saw the candlelight glint from a single wet streak on Snape's face.

Shock seized Harry. All he could do was stare.

Dumbledore trailed a thumb quietly down what was probably the first tear Snape had released since childhood, studying the younger man's face with a gentle smile. "Sometimes, Severus, I don't know how you can stay standing... the respect and admiration I have for you is phenomenal. That will never change."

Snape whispered something, that neither Dumbledore nor Harry caught. Both moved a little closer.

"Sorry, Severus?

"Black and Potter," said Snape, reaching up to cover his face again, as if not being able to see the headmaster's face would make it easier. "What about Black and Potter? When they tried to... tried to kill me. You took ten points from Gryffindor. And I... I hated you, more than any man that day... because you thought me worth nothing more than ten points, and perhaps I'm not."

"Severus..." said Dumbledore quietly. He rubbed another tear from Snape's sallow face. "Severus, how long has this been burrowing into your soul?"

"Since I was sixteen years old."

"Then a very over-due apology," said Dumbledore. He held Snape's face in his hands, like a grandfather with his favourite grandson. "You are worth no amount of points to me, Severus. Your life, and what you have done for me, is worth more points than there are grains of sand on the beach. Stars in the sky. If I had known how badly that schoolboy prank affected you, I assure you, Sirius would have been punished - "

"And Potter!" spat Snape. He shuddered. "Potter was in on the joke, Albus, I know he was. He wanted me dead, so did Black, and now they will get what they want. And I will die trying to do what is best for Potter's vile little son."

"Severus," said Dumbledore firmly. "You will not die. Look at me, Severus. I want to hear nothing more about your mortality." His expression softened, and he brushed away another tear. "If James and Sirius knew how much you have done for me, and done for Harry all these years, then they would think very, very differently of you."

Snape hesitated. Perhaps he knew it was true. After a moment, a faint shudder passed across his shoulders and he returned to the subject that was burning him alive. "Albus, this situation is - ... there's no way out. It ends, here."

"Shhh... come now, don't make me curse a smile onto your face..." Dumbledore's face relaxed, and he said, "There... I haven't seen that smile since the first time you walked into the Great Hall. Now... here is what we will do. Say nothing until I'm finished, and do not try to protest or persuade or cajole or convince me. My mind is most entirely made up. Do you understand?"

Snape nodded. Dumbledore smiled, and continued.

"Excellent... when the time comes, I need you to do something for me. One last act of incredible bravery. I want you to fulfill your Vow. No, do not speak - let me finish. I wish for you to protect Draco and Harry, to bring them together and have them unite against Lord Voldemort. I will write a letter, or some other way of explaining all this to them... no doubt it will be a lot to explain. After you have fulfilled your Vow to complete Draco's mission for him, you must renounce Lord Voldemort."

"Yes," said Snape. "I will. Of course I will."

"Completely, Severus," said Dumbledore, fixing Snape with a gentle, serious look. "You must turn your back on him, once and for all. Every single tie must be severed. Do you understand how important this is?"

"Yes, Headmaster..."

"Good. From that point onwards, Harry will be your new master, and you will be his. I have plans for Harry this year, which he will hopefully explain to you when the time is right. Following Harry's instructions, you must guide the two boys to do what is needed - to defeat Lord Voldemort. Will you promise me that, Severus?"

"I promise." Snape was shaking again, grasping at Dumbledore's hands. "Yes, I promise... a Vow?"

"No no," said Dumbledore, and his eyes twinkled merrily. "I think you have quite enough of those to be getting on with, Severus."

"Albus... thank you... I can't - "

"Shhh," said Dumbledore, with a smile. "I have known you for thirty years, and never once have you struck me as the type to creep and crawl. Your lips do not belong on my shoe. We will have time for gratitude in the morning, after you've had a mug of hot chocolate and a good night's sleep... and I have a birthday present to deliver... now, where has my rabbit gotten to?"

Harry glanced down. The rabbit in question was nestled on his feet, half-asleep, one furry white ear flopped over its face. He shuffled back a little as Dumbledore came over, gathering the rabbit gently into his arms.

As he stood up, he glanced into the corner. Harry froze. He was sure, utterly certain, that for a single second Dumbledore was looking at him. It was more powerful than in the office. He met Dumbledore's eyes, forgetting to breathe... and saw the headmaster smile, quietly.

"Good night then, Severus. Do take care."

Dumbledore left with his rabbit, as Snape scraped the hair out of his eyes, and the world leapt once more onto the merry-go-round of memories. Harry reached out to hold Lupin's wrist. Lupin put an arm around his shoulders, and as the shapes and colours continued to spin, leant down to speak in Harry's ear.

"This one might be upsetting. Turn away, if you want to."

The battlements of Hogwarts. Harry realised, a shade too late, what he was about to relive. Fenrir Greyback, Draco Malfoy and the other Death Eaters were here, and downstairs, there were screams and shouts and the blast of wand fire. Harry turned away. Lupin crouched, gathered him up and hid Harry's face against his shoulder. All Harry could do was listen.

A door burst open.

"We've got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn't seem able - "

"Severus..." Dumbledore's voice, soft, afraid.

Harry had to look. He had to know. That expression of hateful revulsion he had seen in the lines of Snape's face... he had to know. He turned, to stare up through the moonlight, at Snape's face. Time seemed to slow. This was Snape's memory - not the obstructed view Harry had been forced to endure.

And a new voice spoke, louder than the screams and the explosions, echoing softly. It was Dumbledore's voice.

"You know what you have to do, Severus... do not fail me. Do not disappoint me now."

Snape had frozen still. Although this moment had taken seconds before, mere flickers of time to turn Harry's world upside down, it had gone on for years in the mind of Severus Snape. Dumbledore's telepathy echoed around the battlements.

"Do it, Severus."

Snape was numb. Harry could see it in his eyes, eyes that Harry hadn't been able to see when he was hiding under Dumbledore's spell. As Malfoy was pushed out of the way he fell, and Harry caught sight of his white face - staring in horror at Snape, simultaneously pleading that he did and did not do it.

"Severus... please..." said Dumbledore, his voice shaking, and Snape raised his wand.

"Goodbye, Severus..." was the telepathic murmur in his head. "Look after Harry for me."

"Avada kedavra!"

The jet of light hit Dumbledore. Harry couldn't watch. As the Death Eaters and Malfoy looked on, Dumbledore's dying moments acted out like some terrible performance, Harry turned his eyes to Snape and saw the regret in his face, the terrible shock that it was done, it was over and he was alone now.

And then the mask fell back into place, his face hardening, the same old Death Eater raging to the surface.

"Out of here, quickly," he said. The Death Eaters turned and ran. Remus Lupin tucked Harry's head back onto his shoulder, burrowing his fingers in Harry's mop of hair, and Harry closed his eyes as the tower disappeared around them.

"Is it over yet?" Harry asked, not surprised at the break in his voice.

"One more," promised Remus. "Just one more... here, look..."

Harry raised his eyes, dreading what he would see.

The comfortable gloom of a dark, grimy tavern room surrounded him. Harry felt his heart slow once more, now he was away from the terror of Dumbledore's death, and he looked around shakily. The walls of the room were stained with smoke, and the carpet matted with stains, one that was red wine or blood - Harry knew which his money was on. What little furniture there was was old, and too weak to be used without fear of breaking it. The two grimy beds gave off a damp, musty odour that Harry could smell even across the room. There was an old wardrobe (that looked as if strips had been gouged out of it with a knife at some point) and a rickety bar stool, placed in the middle of the room.

At the moment, it was occupied by Severus Snape.

He looked tired, and so pale that Harry could have mistaken him for a walking corpse. Deep, dark circles around his eyes made him look as if he'd aged twenty years in a night. His bony frame was draped in the robes of a Death Eater, though he'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Pulsing like a hot coal on his forearm was the Dark Mark. In one hand, he held a damp cloth, and for reasons unexplained he kept rubbing the fabric over the Dark Mark, as if soothing a wound.

For a few seconds, nothing was said as Snape daubed at his arm then checked over his shoulder. In the far bed, somebody was huddled under the blankets, which were drawn over their head. Only a sliver of platinum blonde hair was visible - Draco.

"Potter..." said Snape, and Harry looked around obediently, before remembering that it was only a memory. He relaxed. Snape wrung out the cloth, holding it over the Dark Mark, and continued in a weak voice that Harry had never heard him use before. "This is... going to be difficult, to say. To explain."

He hissed softly, tightening his grip on the cloth as if nursing a burn.

"I doubt that Dumbledore's plan of memories will work entirely," said Snape. "I had those doubts all along... as usual, he didn't listen. He has never listened. Damn Albus..."

Taking a shaky breath, he removed the cloth, unfolding it and turning it inside out.

"I never expected that he would expect me to take things this far. To do what he asked of me. Potter, this is not a plea for sympathy or understanding. Far from. Last night, I murdered Albus Dumbledore and cannot even get my own mind around it yet, so how I intend to convince you is a mystery to me."

Heavily, he sighed and flexed his fingers, the cords standing out in his wrist. He clenched his fist for a moment. On his forearm, the Dark Mark throbbed a soft fiery red, before fading once more into black. Harry had never been given such an unrestricted view of anybody's Dark Mark, let alone Snape's. Snape had always been viciously protective of it - ashamed, even.

Snape sighed, restless and agitated, raking a fistful of hair off his face to stare across the room. Harry could see the aching confusion in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the broken man he saw before him.

"This has all gone too far," Snape breathed. He shook his head. "Dumbledore thinks this can all be explained with memories... a bottle of ingredients from my own mind. He's suffering under the delusion that - ... rather, he was suffering... - that I can present you with a few carefully chosen memories, and expect you to proclaim my innocence eagerly to the world. To trust me, like he did."

He lowered his head.

"Wretched Potter." He curled his fist and pressed it agitatedly to his lips, his eyes searching the stained carpet, as if desperate for the answers to blossom in front of him like flowers. "The pressure that has been dropped onto my shoulders... and you dare to call me coward. If, in that moment, I could have fixed my fingers around your wretched neck and squeezed until you were dead... I would have, Potter. You have no idea what I have to deal with at this moment in time."

Harry felt strong, uncomfortable guilt surging around his stomach as Snape stood up, snatching a flask from his pillow and unscrewing the lid. He splashed the potion inside onto the cloth, and clasped the sodden fabric to his forearm once more, his face working with pain and relief.

"Not only am I now solely responsible for Draco Malfoy, but Dumbledore has left me in charge of you as well. I cannot handle this. He cannot expect me to handle this. Somehow, I have to guide Draco to London, with the Dark Lord, the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix snapping at my heels. Once there, I need to find Remus Lupin, explain to him the situation, arrange for him to bring you... and after that, the real difficulty begins. If, by some miracle of Merlin, you agree to go through the memories, I have to hope and pray that whatever Dumbledore chooses to show you is enough to convince you. If not..."

He hissed suddenly, and Harry jumped, having been enthralled in what Snape was saying. He watched as Snape wrung out the cloth, reapplied it to his arm and sighed, closing his eyes. The potion seemed to quell the Dark Mark's burn.

"If you do believe me... and Merlin, the chances are so slim that I will not blame you, if you turn your back and walk away. But if you do... what then? I will be responsible for the two most important lives in the entire wizarding world. The anchor guardian. Somehow, I need to..."

He sighed and closed his eyes, his fists clenching.

"Potter. I can't do this."

"You can," came from Harry's mouth, before he could stop himself, and he found a lump in his throat the size of an egg.

"There's impossible pressure on me... but do I have any choice?" Snape stared upwards, through the ceiling, as if begging the heavens to open and swallow him up. "All the trust you placed in me, Dumbledore... this is too much. Too far. Don't dare leave me like this."

Behind him, the sleeping Draco shifted and Snape turned to look at him, watching carefully, waiting. The boy remained asleep. Snape's shoulders seemed to relax as he turned back to Harry, and for a moment, their eyes met. That same feeling Harry had experienced with Dumbledore, that this was more than a memory, flittered through his mind before Snape looked away.

"Potter, you must believe me. If you don't, then I can do little more to convince you, and I can only hope that whatever nasty death awaits me is brief - whether at the Dark Lord's hand, the Ministry's, or yours. Perhaps death will be easier than co-operating in whatever ludicrous plan Dumbledore has cooked up for me."

Snape gave a huff of humourless, weak amusement.

"I quite envy the foolish old man. While I have to play sheepdog to you and Draco Malfoy, he's probably sitting on a cloud, drinking sherry with Black and enjoying a joke at my expense."

For some reason, the image made Harry's lips quirk in a smile. He hid it quickly, annoyed at himself but unable to deny he liked that thought - Dumbledore and Sirius, together, wherever they were.

Snape sighed, heavily, and dabbed at the Dark Mark burnt into his arm. "The point of the matter is, Potter... Dumbledore seemed to think that you need me, more than you needed him. Before you scoff, know that I think it ludicrous as well. Dumbledore could deal with this amount of pressure. I cannot. Yet... I have come to realise something. Only in recent hours."

Harry leant closer. Snape looked up, meeting Harry's eyes, staring into him rather than through him, and Harry shivered.

"I am now the most wanted man in the wizarding world," said Snape quietly. "Albus Dumbledore was the only one who believed me innocent, who trusted me entirely. Without him to vouch for me, the Ministry will believe I am nothing less than a cold-blooded murderer. Perhaps it's what I am. Either way, I feel... reliant upon you, as you are on me. Turn away, if you wish. If I could walk away from this situation myself, I most certainly would, but unfortunately, I can't. You can, Potter. You have a choice. If you have a brain in your head, tell Lupin to take you home and alert the Order to where I am staying."

He paused, then carried on, quietly.

"Or if you are the brave, foolish, stupid young clone of your father that I have always believed you to be, trust me and understand what it is I have so much trouble in saying... I need you, Potter. I hazard to say that you need me. Albus Dumbledore was willing to risk everything on the two of us co-operating, and it will be hard. I doubt I can cope. I am... willing to try though, if you are. Dumbledore placed a huge amount of trust in me. I think the least I can do, to try and counter what I've done, what I've committed... is to trust him as well, when he says that I need you."

Quietly, he drew his wand from up his sleeve and took a bottle from his pocket, filled with silvery memories. He swirled it gently.

Raising the tip of the wand to his temple, he sighed, and Harry felt invisible forces jerk him backwards, upwards, away from this dark tavern room and Snape's empty eyes. Time and space danced around him in a whirlwind. After what felt like an eternity of spinning through colour, he hit the ground again, and found himself on his hands and knees, crouched upon the cold hard cement floor of a hotel basement.

For long seconds, he could do nothing but breathe, too exhausted for thought. It was after about a minute that he realised there was a hand on each of his shoulders. The right he recognised as Lupin's fatherly grip, and he could see the older wizard out of the corner of his eye.

At his left, he didn't need to look round to know who it was.