DISCLAIMER: Everything in the Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: This is to be a LONG story. I would advise to read until at least chapter 31 before giving it up, since before that you might not get a proper idea of what this is about. Things start getting interesting around ch 18, and the three key chapters in the story are 20, 21 and 22.

A/N2: I will not bother writing foreign or weird accents. That would get in the way of my trying to improve my English. So just assume that Bulgarian and French people, and Hagrid, talk like in the books.

A/N3: I should probably warn you that there are several timeline 'inconsistencies' at the beginning. It's on purpose, don't freak out. I'll stick to canon as much as possible, but not always.

LET ME DIE FOR YOU

Part one: THE DAMNED GOBLET

Chapter 1

Severus was again standing in the Shrieking Shack, staring at his unconscious body. They had just left him there, sprawled in the floor where he had fallen after being blasted against the wall. There was blood oozing from under his hair, but nobody seemed to have judged necessary to tend to that.

His wand laid abandoned over the bed, next to the ugly cat. He had checked it afterwards, and the last spell had been a Mobilicorpus charm, which suggested that Black had used his own wand to transport him back to the Hogwarts' grounds. Which would also explain why he had had so many bruises and scratches on his head when he woke up. Asshole.

Nobody was paying the slightest attention to him. None of the stupid kids seemed the least worried about their Professor nor about what might happen to them if he died because of what they had done. They all seemed to have completely forgotten him, focused as they were on Pettigrew. Because that was Peter Pettigrew, all right. Aged more than a decade since he had last seen him, but definitely alive.

As he watched, Black and Lupin strode forward, seized the dead man's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. Pettigrew sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," said Black, who was shaking too. "Do you deny it?"
Pettigrew burst into tears.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord...you have no idea...he has weapons you can't imagine ...I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen...He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me -"

"DON'T LIE!" bellowed Black. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He - he was taking over everywhere!" gasped Pettigrew. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

The memory ended there, so Severus found himself back in his tiny sitting room. He leaned back in his father's old armchair, staring at the now inactive Pensieve.

He had watched Lupin's memory at least a dozen times in the last month, but he was still having trouble accepting what it showed. At first he had refused to dive into the werewolf's memories at all, but Dumbledore had insisted to the point of threatening him with Christmas decorations, so eventually he had caved in.

So now he knew.

Or did he?

He couldn't deny anymore that they all had been telling the truth about Pettigrew being alive, but that didn't necessarily mean that Black was innocent. The memory was too short, and Severus suspected that it had been carefully cut so it would only show Pettigrew's confession. It certainly had left out the whole Animagi business and Lupin's wanderings as a werewolf while at school. His hands clenched into fists when a new wave of rage overcame him. He had watched his own memory of that night too, countless times, and each time he had felt overwhelmed by the same blind fury that he had felt in the Shrieking Shack. He had dismissed the Animagi claim at the time, thinking they were just bragging, but he had had no trouble believing that Black and Potter could have been so irresponsible as to set a werewolf loose on the grounds each full moon. A shiver went down his spine.

"And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards."

It had been much worse than he had thought. To think that anyone could have ran into a fully transformed werewolf in the Hogwarts grounds or even Hogsmeade! There were always students breaking the rules and going for a night stroll in the moonlight. Severus had been too wary of the full moon as to risk it, but no one else had suspected what Lupin was. What if Lily...?

He shook his head to clear it from that horrible image. Lily probably knew, anyway. Severus had shared with her his suspicions, and she no doubt had paid closer attention to Lupin after that even if she didn't believe him. And she had been a Prefect, strongly against breaking rules, so she hardly would have gone for a night stroll unless she was with Potter...

He shook his head again and forced himself to consider the Animagi claim. Lupin's memory had not shown how Pettigrew had come to be in the Shack, but Black had seemed to believe that Weasley's rat was not just a rat, and Granger had said so too afterwards. And comparing both memories Severus had to concede that in the one with Pettigrew Weasley wasn't struggling with his rat anymore. It would also make sense that Black was an Animagus. According to Dumbledore that's how he had escaped Azkaban and snuck into Hogwarts undetected. It was hard to believe that those three idiots, and especially Pettigrew, had been able to undergo the Animagus transformation at fifteen without killing themselves in the process, but maybe they had managed somehow. It definitely was idiotic and reckless enough for them. And Black and Potter had been talented, Severus had to reluctantly admit.

Prongs... Yes, that made sense. Severus had long known that James Potter's Patronus had been a stag (his own Patronus was a painful reminder of that), and it was widely accepted that Animagi's Patronuses usually mimicked their animal forms, like in Minerva's case. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. A stag sounded more like a werewolf's meal than anything else, but it was big enough, he supposed. As to Black... Padfoot. Something big and with padded feet? It could be anything, from a bear to a panther. Dumbledore had refused to tell him.

He sighed. All right, maybe it was true that Potter, Black and Pettigrew had become Animagi. And it was true that Pettigrew was alive, apparently. But Black could still be guilty. A memory wasn't definitive proof when it came to confessions, since the subject could be lying or under coercion (and Pettigrew definitely looked afraid, as if he had been threatened with death unless he confessed what Black and Lupin were demanding him to confess). Maybe Pettigrew had simply been hiding all these years because he was afraid of Black? Perhaps he knew that Black had the power to escape from Azkaban if he wanted. Or he might have been afraid of Lupin. The wolf certainly had looked murderous in the memory.

Severus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in an attempt to sooth his growing headache. He really should stop watching these memories and turning these thoughts inside his head over and over again. And he probably should stop clinging to his denial and seriously consider the possibility that Black was actually innocent of the crime for which he had been sent to Azkaban. All these years, he had found deeply satisfying (although not nearly comforting enough) to imagine him rotting away there. Now he was torn. Even though Black was still a jerk who had almost gotten him killed at sixteen, twelve years in Azkaban seemed a bit too much. Severus would have gladly killed him in retribution for everything he had done to him at school, but he wasn't sure he would have sent him to Azkaban or sentenced him to the Dementor's Kiss just for that. It had been betraying Lily what had put the jerk in the blackest of lists. And the hypocrisy, of course.

Speaking of hypocrites, he sneered at himself. How could he sensor anyone for joining the Dark Lord and spying for him when he had done exactly that? And he held far more blame for Lily's death than anyone (Dark Lord aside).

It had been a really confusing month for Severus. At first he had been so furious that he had not been able to properly dissect his anger and had projected it equally towards all people involved (Lupin, Black, Potter and his sidekicks, Dumbledore and even Fudge for good measure). Several weeks later, he was beginning to process separate grudges and to resent more fairly each person, but he had gotten so used to hate Black for everything that he was still finding difficult to redistribute appropriately that particular hate.

And he was still working on hating Pettigrew as much as he should.

Even though he had despised all four of Potter's gang, he had never paid much attention to Pettigrew. He had always had the impression that Potter and Black only kept him around because they liked to be admired and applauded, and nobody fawned over them better than that appalling kid. He had also had the impression that Pettigrew only hanged with them for convenience, since Potter and Black were very popular and could ensure that he wouldn't be bullied by others.

Now that he considered the issue objectively, he had to admit that Pettigrew made a far more likely candidate for a Death Eater and a traitor. Severus probably should have known that Black didn't have the brains to pull off a betrayal, the moron had always been too much of a Gryffindor. Pettigrew, on the other hand... Yes, now that he thought about it, it was actually surprizing that none of his friends had ever mistrusted him. Blind fools, the lot of them. Too arrogant to believe that they could be wrong in their choice of friends.

Although Lily had probably trusted Pettigrew too, if she had agreed to make him their Secret Keeper...

Yes, and she also married a jerk, he mentally drawled. Her judgment wasn't always perfect.

He couldn't really blame Pettigrew, though. Severus had also not seen anything to gain by refusing the Dark Lord. Pettigrew might have joined out of fear rather than true devotion like Severus had, but they had both chosen the same side. As a Slytherin, he could easily understand the survival instinct that led to such decision, and he suspected that Pettigrew had never been much of a Gryffindor to begin with. The Sorting Hat made mistakes sometimes, he had seen plenty evidence of that in the last fifteen years.

It irritated him more the fact that the Dark Lord had not trusted him with that information. Whether the traitor had been Black or Pettigrew, Severus had been kept in the dark. He knew it was silly to still care about that sort of thing when his former master had been gone for thirteen years and Severus had changed sides, but he couldn't deny that it bothered him. He supposed the competitiveness amongst Death Eaters had been too deeply ingrained in him, as in all the others. Some part of him still felt the urge to prove himself more worthy and useful than Lucius or Bellatrix.

He shook his head in disbelief. He really screwed with my head.

He had been sitting here mulling things over for at least an hour, and he still hadn't come up with any original thoughts. It was always the same, every day and night. No matter how much he turned everything around inside his head, he still hated Black far too much and Pettigrew far too little. And of course he wanted to strangle Potter and his sidekicks, and to put the wolf to sleep. Yelling some more at Dumbledore would also be nice. He was certain that they were all covering up Black's escape —in which Potter was involved somehow—, and that infuriated him even though at this point he had almost entirely accepted that Black might be innocent.

At the same time, he felt sort of relieved that Black hadn't turned out to be a Death Eater after all. The idea of having shared a Dark Mark with that asshole had tormented him for over a decade.

He really shouldn't be rooting for Pettigrew's escape, especially not if he was guilty, but Severus was actually glad that Black would not be able to prove his supposed innocence anytime soon. This tiny memory would not be admitted as evidence, coming from a werewolf, and he doubted Dumbledore would want to compromise Lupin in any case. Fudge would also not admit the testimony of Potter and his friends, not after Severus had accused them of Confundment. Nobody in the Ministry would want to even consider the possibility of Black being innocent, since that would mean they had made a grave mistake twelve years ago. Although Dumbledore was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot... And Amelia Bones was Head of the DMLE now... If Bones caught wind of Black having gone to Azkaban without a trial...

He shook his head again. Black was on the run, out of the country according to Dumbledore. Severus had not received any threats against giving his own testimony, so it didn't seem as if the old man intended to clear his name. He had actually said that without Pettigrew it was a lost case. Better that way. Even if he was innocent, Black could only cause trouble. The moron would probably try to claim custody over Potter if he was free, and Severus shuddered to think how much more reckless the brat would get under such terrible influence.

Enough for tonight, he decided as he levitated the Pensieve back to its shelf and climbed to his feet. It was half past four in the morning, still dark outside, but he knew that natural sleep would be out of his reach at least until tomorrow so he didn't even try. Instead he decided to get started on his day.

As much as he hated being surrounded by dunderheads, Severus was actually much less miserable during the school year than during the holidays. At least in Hogwarts he had living quarters that weren't a constant reminder of his awful childhood, and of course he had distractions. Keeping himself busy was the best way of keeping his demons at bay, he knew by long experience. And it was also a benefit to have so many powerless subjects over which to release his frustrations.

But there were a few things that he didn't get to do during the school year and that kept him busy enough during the summer. Mostly complex potions that took a long time to brew and required constant watch. Or research. Or, if he was unlucky, some assignment from Dumbledore. Like last summer, when he had had to station himself at Diagon Alley for two whole weeks to keep an eye on Potter. The memory filled him with rage, especially now that it seemed like Black had never really been a threat to the brat.

Nothing would get in the way of his peaceful summer this year, though. At the moment, Severus felt more inclined to curse Potter than to protect him, so Dumbledore better make sure that the boy remained with his relatives or send someone else to watch him.

He needed these two months to cool off and clear his head.

Severus tapped the boiler with his wand to heat the water and turned the shower on. He was still deep in thought as he undressed and stepped under the hot rain. How on earth had Pettigrew managed to become an Animagus? And what would Minerva say if she knew her beloved Potter and Black had done something so reckless under her supposed watch? Dumbledore had forbidden him from telling anything to anyone, but he felt tempted. It would also help the Ministry with its search if they knew Black was an unregistered Animagus...

So absorbed he was in his thoughts that he didn't notice it until he was about to turn off the shower.

Time seemed to stop for and endless moment. Severus ceased breathing, thinking, feeling, probably even beating. His forearm had frozen in front of his eyes, but no matter how much he stared at it his mind still couldn't comprehend it.

And then, he felt himself descend into the cruellest of nightmares. Suddenly there were too many thoughts and feelings swirling inside him, and his heart rate and breathing were picking up to the point of making him light headed.

He continued staring at the Dark Mark that he naively had believed himself free from. It was barely visible, nothing like before, but it was definitely there.

Fool! yelled a bitter voice inside his head. He told us that it was forever. I chose to serve him forever.

Dumbledore had always said that the Dark Lord would return, and the Dark Lord himself had bragged about his supposed immortality, but for more than a decade Severus had rested on the illusion that if that day came, he wouldn't be branded anymore and would be able to choose better. After all, the Mark had vanished the same day than the Dark Lord had. He had wanted to believe that if he returned, everyone would have to be rebranded, and nothing would have induced Severus to surrender his freedom again.

He should have known that the Dark Lord would not let them go so easily.

Water kept running down his body, colder by the second, but he couldn't bring himself to correct the temperature. He was anxiously dreading the moment when it burned, all the while trying to decide what he would do then.

Of course, Dumbledore had always planned for Severus to resume his role as spy if the Dark Lord returned, it had been one of his conditions for keeping him out of Azkaban. But Severus had never intended to keep that part of the bargain. Protecting Lily's son, fine. Going back to the Dark Lord, no thank you.

Refusing the call had seemed like a simple choice when his arm had been clean. But this... this complicated things.

For a long moment, he very seriously considered chopping off his left arm. He even mentally revised as many severing charms and curses as he knew, plus healing spells and necessary potions to keep himself from bleeding out or going into shock. Doing it alone would be insane, though, maybe Poppy could help? Dumbledore would not want him to do it, so better not to tell him until it was done.

He could live without an arm, as long as it wasn't his wand one.

Or could he? Even though no Death Eater knew for sure what would happen if they chopped off their left arms, the Dark Lord had given them to understand that it would not be advisable. Severus suspected that part of the Mark's magic included some sort of defensive mechanism to make sure they died in agony if they dared trying to get rid of it.

Plus, he would not be able to brew potions with only one arm. There existed prosthetic limbs, sure, but not always it was possible to attach them, and he doubted he would have as much precision and sensitivity with one of those as with his real hand.

So no, he would not try that yet.

But if he couldn't get rid of the Dark Mark, was it even an option not to answer his summons? Everyone must be wondering the same thing. They knew the Dark Lord could inflict pain on them through their Marks, but it was a question how bad it could get. As high tolerance to pain as Severus had, there was only so much the body could endure without going into shock or making suicide sound like a great idea. He had never heard of a Death Eater being executed via Dark Mark, but that might only be because the Dark Lord had always preferred to deal with traitors in person.

Was it even possible to run away? To hide? To deny their Master in any way?

The Dark Mark still hadn't burnt when he began to shiver and it occurred to him that it might not burn right away and that he didn't need to stare at it to notice when it happened. The pain would be sharp enough to wake him from the deepest sleep. And it might be better to be out of the shower and ready to Apparate away, if a summoning was coming. But to Apparate where?

To Him, of course, answered a strongly conditioned part of his brain.

He will kill me, answered another part of him. Or maybe the same part. Pain and fear and loyalty to the Dark Lord were all stored in the same area of his brain.

Dumbledore would expect him to answer the call, though. Even after Quirrell...

The water sliding down his body turned scalding hot as rage overcame him, even though he hadn't consciously cast anything.

You're losing it, he told himself angrily. You can't afford to lose it. Clear your mind...

It was harder than usual to put order within himself, but he managed. The hot water helped calming him down, although he still felt chilled to the bone. Not being able to see his Dark Mark through his closed eyes was also definitely helping. He could almost pretend that it wasn't there, as long as it didn't burn. For several minutes, he focused only on his Occlumency shields, slamming shut all doors and windows within his mind until everything finally went completely silent and still.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

This is what I chose, he reminded himself.

This chapter was posted on Sept 15, 2021