A/N: So sorry about the wait, dear readers, I had a beast of a time getting this chapter to come together amid my law school stressors! Thank you all so much for your patience and for all the wonderful reviews! PLEASE keep them coming! They keep me going! Here at last, I give you what I hope will be a suitably creepy chapter for your Halloween-reading pleasure! A safe and happy holiday to you all!
Chapter Three: Scar
Severus opened the laboratory window and peered out at the small figure seated unmoving near the cliff. Potter no longer left the immediate vicinity of the house at all. Sometimes he did not go outside, which alarmed Severus nearly as much as the boy's increasing passivity. He no longer argued or fought when Severus hauled him into the lab for more examinations, though he still made caustic remarks.
Frustrated, Severus had taken himself to walking the shoreline and the woods. He needed the quiet solitude to think. He could isolate no cause of the boy's waning strength. Not that Potter was any help in his investigations, but knowing the Dark Lord's methods, it was entirely possible that the boy truly had no idea what had happened to him.
And that could mean the end of him, Severus thought sourly.
Movement outside caught his eye, and he froze at the sight of a very large snake winding its way toward Potter. Not daring to call out, Snape grabbed his wand and bolted for the door.
He rushed outside only to find Potter in what could only be described as conversation with the serpent. Severus could hear them hissing back and forth in Parseltongue as he stood watching in wary fascination…until the snake noticed him.
The creature reared up, flattened its back, and hissed harshly, and Potter looked over his shoulder and smirked, hissing back. Recovering his voice, Severus demanded, "Potter, what the hell are you doing?"
"Having a little chat with a friend, what does it look like?" Potter said blithely.
"It 'looks like' many things, but yours is not the description I would choose," Snape muttered. Potter smirked and hissed something to the snake. It seemed to relax, no longer facing the Severus aggressively and returning its attention to the boy. "What are you telling it?"
"What you said. Only polite."
"Polite?" Severus asked doubtfully.
The snake hissed something at Potter and glided towards Severus. It took all his self control not to retreat. Evidently, Potter noticed, because he grinned. "He wants to know if you're a threat to me."
Determined to keep his voice steady as he met the serpent's cold black eyes, Severus retorted, "Then tell him I'm not."
"I did. He's wondering why." Severus blinked. Potter stretched lazily and watched the snake gliding around the older wizard. "I told him you're trying to make up for being evil. But he doesn't understand."
"What?" Severus glared at Potter. "What the hell are you talking about?"
The boy sneered at him. "Snakes don't understand things like 'forgiveness' or 'atonement.' He can't understand why you'd help me if you didn't get something out of it. Good point, really. Snakes are pretty smart."
Severus felt his skin crawling in time with the soft sound of the reptile's scales over the ground. "I rather wonder why I help you myself," he snarled, and stalked back into the house.
Potter laughed as he went.
"I was beginning to think you would never rejoin our ranks, Lucius."
"Forgive me, my lord. I escaped Azkaban and returned as soon as I could."
"Perhaps you did. And yet you did not bring me my prize."
"…prize, Master?"
"The prophecy, Lucius. The objective I sent you for over a year ago. You do recall?"
"I…yes, but…I was told the prophecy had been destroyed."
"So it has. Do you think your time in Azkaban will reprieve you from a punishment from me?"
"Er…no…"
"My lord, please—"
"Quiet, Narcissa. Step forward and give me your wand, Lucius."
"Oh god…"
"Cissy, shh!"
"I suggest you take your sister's advice, Narcissa."
"Y-yes, my…my lord, please, let my son leave before you…punish Lucius."
"No, my dear, Draco must stay. He will come and face his father."
"But—"
"Cissy!"
"Mum, it's okay!"
"Very good, Draco. Now look at your son, Lucius, and tell him what you have done."
"I failed our master."
"And what does it mean, to fail me?"
"I must face my punishment."
"Well said, and calmly too. Your overemotional wife should follow your lead, but I will grant you one reprieve. I will not force Draco to watch your punishment."
"Thank you, Master. I ask no mercy for myself."
"I…"
"Do as our lord says, Draco."
"Yes, sir."
"Very good, young Draco. Now close your eyes."
"My eyes?"
"It will ease your parents' minds, I think. Narcissa, you may turn away as well. If you have anything terribly pressing to say to your father, Draco, I suggest you do so now."
"Dad!"
"It's all right. This is the consequence of failing the Dark Lord, and I must face it. It is my own failing."
"But…"
"Look after your mother."
"…yes, sir."
"There now, Draco, do not be so despondent. It will not be as hard as you think. Now close your eyes. But stay here. I will allow your father to see you before his punishment. Lucius?"
"I am…ready, my lord."
"Good. Avada Kedavra."
For several moments, there had been silence. Even Bella, for once, had been shocked. Severus had not drawn a breath after the body of the Dark Lord's victim fell. Then Narcissa had opened her eyes and seen Draco dead on the ground as his father stared at him in disbelief.
The boy's mother's scream still rang in Snape's ears at night. Lucius hadn't moved, his eyes locked on his only child's body. Severus too had been too stunned to think even as Bella had attempted to restrain the grief-crazed Narcissa. When she broke away, everyone expected her to go to Draco, so it had surprised even the Dark Lord when the woman had lunged at him instead, her wand brandished like a dagger.
Only then had Lucius broken out of his trance and tried to stop her, but it was too late.
A flash from the Dark Lord's wand had thrown her off, and when she struck the ground, Severus knew she was finished. She had coughed, a trickle of blood from her mouth, and turned away from her husband and their master, crawling determinedly to her son's body with a look of relief on her face. She only managed to get far enough to put a hand on Draco before she collapsed on his draped robes and breathed her last.
The Dark Lord had ordered Lucius to stay where he was when he would have gone to them. All the Death Eaters had stood solemnly in a ring around golden hair spread over black robes. The Dark Lord had then ordered Lucius to walk away and leave the bodies of his wife and son where they were. Bella and Severus had had to beg their master's permission two hours later to bury Draco and Narcissa.
Severus often wondered if Bellatrix Black had ever been capable of loving anything. She hadn't shed a tear for her sister or nephew, though she'd seemed fond of them when they were alive. She'd ranted the whole time she and Severus had worked over her sister's stupidity in attacking the Dark Lord. Snape supposed it was as close to grief as Bella would ever get. No tears had been shed for her among the Death Eaters when she met her end at the hands of an Auror six months later.
In a greater twist of irony, Severus learned that the Auror, none other than Nymphadora Tonks, had in fact wept, not for the woman she had killed but for the fact that it was her mother's sister. Andromeda had probably been completely understanding, but Tonks had been sickened by the act and what it represented, if not the actual loss of the recipient. She hadn't been morphed at the time, but Bella hadn't recognized her until seconds before her niece delivered a curse that threw Bella into a wall and broke her neck.
Severus had always privately agreed with Bella that Narcissa's open and unswerving devotion to Draco would be the death of her. The Dark Lord tolerated none of the servants placing anything ahead of his own goals—especially not love. Narcissa had been of use to him only because Lucius was, and likewise Draco. The boy had been too innocent for the Dark Lord's work; everyone knew it. When Lucius failed their master, his family lost their usefulness. No one survived long once the Dark Lord deemed them expendable.
And as a result, Severus had known even before their next mission that Lucius would not come back alive. The man's bloodline had been his pride, as with all old pureblood families. Whether he actually mourned his wife and son themselves was anyone's guess, but…Severus was of the opinion that he had, deeply. Ironically, others would consider him sentimental for believing it.
Lucius had thrown himself into the next battle with Aurors without regard for his own safety, and refused to fall back when Severus had called a retreat. Aurors had soon surrounded him as Severus and the others looked on, intent on taking him alive, but Lucius had been equally intent on ending himself. Finally, under the pretense that they could not afford him being questioned, Severus had thrown a Killing Curse that hit Lucius right in the chest, leaving his body to the Aurors. The Dark Lord had agreed when Severus had made his report of the incident, and commended Severus for not letting his friendship with Lucius interfere with his duty to his master.
It had not been Snape's imagination: in the green light of the curse striking his heart, Lucius had looked grateful.
All men save the Dark Lord had their weaknesses. Though a dark and often-cruel man, Lucius had still been a man. Only a Legilimens, a powerful one, would ever have known where his weakness lay. Or someone who understood what it was to have such a weakness as love.
Only a master Occlumens had a prayer of keeping the Dark Lord from discovering his weaknesses. The Dark Lord, ever overconfident on his own abilities, had presumed that Severus had none. Or if he had thought Severus might be hiding some weakness, he would never have guessed correctly what it was.
Albus…I tried.
It had been easy enough to convince the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters that he hated Dumbledore. In some ways—no, many ways—he had. And yet even as Albus had used him, manipulated, pushed, pulled, cajoled, and bullied him…he had saved him. And he had trusted him. And for reasons unfathomable to Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, or anybody else, Albus Dumbledore had cared for him.
Severus had never refused any request from him. Nor, according to Albus, had Severus ever failed him.
Technically-speaking, he had carried out Dumbledore's last order…he had fulfilled the Vow to Narcissa and kept Draco from becoming a murderer, and himself in the Dark Lord's good graces. But Severus had never been as quick to forgive or excuse as Albus (infuriatingly) was—toward anyone, including himself. Would you have been so willing to pet and assure me of my value if you had seen me stand by and watch Draco and his mother die?
Probably. Damn the man.
Make no mistake; it was for Albus that Severus put up with Potter's worsening behavior even as he tried to preserve the boy's worsening health. Severus caught him several days in a row in the library perusing books that he had no business reading—extremely dark magic, all of them—but the boy was no longer strong enough even to go outside without assistance. So he entertained himself by Snape-baiting. Severus suspected that Potter had pulled those books off the shelves just to alarm him, but rather than take any chances, he removed the most dangerous volumes to his rooms and locked them up.
So Potter switched to casually passing Snape in the halls of the house several times a day, taking every opportunity to let slip a sly remark. Probing for weaknesses. Good thing Potter wasn't a Legilimens.
Severus was thoroughly convinced that it was sheer self-pity motivating the boy's new hobby of Bothering Snape as often as possible. Were it not for his promise to Albus, Severus would have left him to waste away and rot.
Potter knew it too.
"Did Dumbledore leave you a note or something for after you killed him?" the boy asked one day while Severus was trying to use a modified Dark Detection Charm on him.
Snape shot him a withering look. "How precisely would he have done that?"
Potter shrugged. "Good point. I just figured, with everything you did for him and all the connections and secret ways of communicating he had, he'd've found some way to thank you. Since you were, you know, so valuable."
"Potter, if you wish to be rid of your illness, shut up and let me work."
Of course, he didn't. "Did he ever thank you? Why the hell did you do all those things for him if not for some kind of reward?"
Snape met the boy's mocking gaze and replied in a sarcastic drawl, "Because it was the right thing to do."
Potter laughed out loud. "Not because you wanted that bloody Order of Merlin, then? I guess killing the only person in the wizarding world who'd ever have got you one kind of put an end to that dream, didn't it? Nobody really trusted you except on his word—I saw that clear enough. Once he was gone, that was it. The only person who was ever kind to you…"
"Shut…up."
"Even your parents didn't like you, did they?"
Severus slapped him. Hard. "If you ever wish to recover your strength, boy, shut your mouth and let me work."
"Like you're really going to find anything."
"If only to enjoy your discomfiture when you can finally no longer deny that I have saved your life, yes, I will find the cause." It gratified Severus to see Potter blanch.
"So you'll use a wizard's debt to get out of your promise to Dumbledore, then?"
"Killing him was a far more difficult order to follow than anything pertaining to you," Severus retorted without thinking. Then he saw Potter's face and realized what he'd said. Before he could muster a qualification to that statement, something tugged his senses. "Wait…"
"Hah! Too late to change the subject!" Potter crowed. "Poor old Snape—Dumbledore really was the only stupid bugger to ever give a damn about you; it actually made you sad to kill him! Not that it really must have mattered much of him to be leaving poor lonely old Snape all alone!"
"QUIET, Potter!" Severus bellowed, trying to focus on what might have triggered his Detection Charm and not on the words needling their way into his mind.
"Or was it just the Order of Merlin after all? No, I remember what you said that night, not wanting me to call you a coward! You really did feel bad, didn't you, losing the only person who didn't think you're a worthless, greasy git! Pathetic, really—"
"Shut UP!" Severus hit him so hard that it knocked him unconscious, which had the effect of shutting his bloody mouth, but also cut off the Charm. "Damn."
Severus left Potter lying there on the table on stalked away.
Harry was glad at first that he'd finally managed to put Snape off this stupid crusade, since it would spare him having to pay a wizard's debt to the bastard. If only his stupid body would last long enough, he was sure he could find a cure on his own for what ailed him—just not in a way that Snape would approve of. Odd, that. You'd think Snape of all people would not object to using dark magic if it were a matter of life or death—lord knew Snape had done enough dark deeds to save his own skin, "Dumbledore's orders" or not!
The local snakes and Harry's own senses told him that Agawa Bay was strong in Earth magic. The ancient natives who'd lived there had imprinted their own magic on the place as well; Harry could feel it, in the Lake, in every stone of the mountains, and the living things. It grew stronger with age, a resource right there to be tapped. Even the Muggles who'd tramped through the place on their tourist camping trips hadn't diminished its power. It all was wild with Earth magic and ancient magic, and if Harry could tap it…no curse would stand a chance. Nor could any other wizard who tried to get in Harry's way.
But he had no interest in cluing Snape in on his plan. The ex-professor would undoubtedly ask uncomfortable questions and possibly inform the Order. Harry had no interest in their sanctimonious lectures and fussing over him either. He was a pet to them. They would never regard him as they had Dumbledore: a leader. He might be younger, but he was more powerful than all of them put together. The more he recalled their attitudes toward him in the last few years, the more it enraged him.
If he had done what Snape wanted, gone back to them…They might have sung my praises and given me the Order of Merlin, but they would really respect me. To them, I've always been just a boy, a boy who gets lucky. I'll get what I'm due from them, one day.
As boring as it was to be unable to move around much, Harry found that bothering Snape could be at least a reasonably entertaining pastime. It provided something of a challenge, seeing how many veiled insults could be delivered, and how subtle they could be for him to still catch them, before the man snapped and took a swing at him. The only downside was that Harry's reflexes were not as good as they could have been, so he sometimes didn't manage to dodge a blow. Well, that was a challenge in its own right.
And it was more than worth it, the first time Harry stole after Snape when the man had stormed from the room, and heard a glass slapping violently onto the kitchen counter and the clink of a firewhiskey decanter. He was positively gleeful to realize he had driven Severus Snape to drink.
Severus was well into the bottle of firewhiskey before his thoughts wandered to the subject of cursing Dumbledore for this miserable existence he'd been left with. It was so easy for you, Albus, to bow out. So secure in your faith that your precious Harry and I would be able to work together to end the war. I somehow doubt this was what you had in mind.
He had made no headway in determining what ailed the boy, and now he was losing the will to try. Even as Potter's cutting remarks enraged him, Severus had enough rationality to suspect that the boy's mental health was unraveling along with the physical. That would explain the loss of interest in all the things Harry Potter had so famously held dear—such as his friends—and the fact that his personality, and the amusement he derived from cruelty to Snape and even Hattie, was beginning to bear more than a passing resemblance to the late Dark Lord's taste in entertainment. Perhaps only wizards as powerful as Potter or the Dark Lord were capable of being amused by such behavior.
Then again, such things had amused Severus once. In some ways, he was starting to wish they still did. It would get him out of this mess if he could lose that conscience he'd developed under Dumbledore's tutelage.
No, Albus had known better than to risk that happening. Aware of the debt that had driven Severus back to the side of right, Dumbledore had taken great pains to forge a similar, even stronger debt owed by Severus to him, one that could never be repaid in Snape's lifetime.
Damn you, Albus.
Had he really believed that Severus would always be grateful to him? Surely any man with sense would have realized that the one bound by an unbreakable debt would one day come to damn their benefactor for it. As Severus had.
As he fell into a whiskey-induced slumber, it was indeed a curse to Dumbledore upon his lips. Not Harry Potter.
"It will turn out better than you fear, Severus. I promise you that."
"So easy for you to say when you won't be around to see the end! You take too much for granted, Albus!"
"Severus, enough! You've agreed to do it!"
"Yes, but…"
"I have charged you with this because you are the only one who I trust enough. Now trust me. Please. My faith in you and in Harry is not misplaced."
"Harry Potter is sixteen. You are prepared to die to prevent Draco Malfoy from losing his innocence by murdering you at this age—how do you expect Potter to find it in himself to kill the Dark Lord?"
"With your help, Severus. With your help."
"How in god's name am I supposed to help him after killing you? If the boy's hot to kill anyone after your death, it will be me! And I cannot say I would blame him!"
"Really—"
"And has it occurred to you that I don't KNOW how to help Potter? Let alone persuade him to trust me without blowing my cover."
"You have wonderful instincts, my boy. Stronger than mine. Trust yourself. You and Harry are very alike in that respect; you both see with more than your eyes. I believe Harry will recognize what you've done, when the time is right. And he will know to trust you."
"The boy hates me, and it's mutual. He'll want me dead after you're gone."
"He'll find it easier to forgive you if you'll find it in yourself to forgive him, Severus."
"Forgive him for what?"
"For being who he is, of course. For having the fame and recognition as a hero that you undoubtedly deserve for your deeds on our side, but have never received. For being the 'chosen one,' am I right?"
"The reasons don't matter."
"But the ones I've named aren't the only ones, are they? I may be a silly old man, but I am not completely blind, Severus. I am well aware of the reasons why you are so determined to hate Harry."
"And yet you trust me."
"Yes. Because I believe one day you'll find peace for yourself by forgiving him."
"As touching as your faith is, I wonder that you're willing to stake the future of the wizarding world on it."
"Ever the melodramatic one."
"Albus—"
"Enough. We can stand out here in the dark and argue all night, but I doubt if either of us shall budge from our beliefs. In any case, it's too cold for my old bones anymore. We should return to the castle."
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Don't sulk, Severus, it's unbecoming. And remember what I said about your instincts. Trust them. They won't lead you astray."
"If you say so."
Severus awoke, his head buzzing and foggy from the whiskey, his tongue thick as he tried to curse Dumbledore once again for refusing to leave him alone even in his dreams. He had no wish to go back to sleep and face the old man in his memories again, so he stormed out of the cottage into the dawn chill. Potter, thank god for small mercies, was asleep in his room.
It began as only a walk to clear his head, but the fog and cool air helped return his usual Potions Master instincts, and he found himself examining the magical plants and fungi that populated the woods as he wandered down the mountainside. Unlike Potter, who kept close to the waterline, Severus preferred to remain within the trees, both because it made him feel less exposed and because the best Potions ingredients were to be found there.
Most of the usual growths he had already found on previous foraging excursions, and the mistletoe growths, while full and healthy, were not in the proper season to have attained their full magical properties yet. Still, it was a soothing exercise to spot the various plants familiar to him and to ponder their Potions potential.
The most interesting find of the trip was a growth of Brown Leechvine that had anchored itself in a knothole on a large oak tree. The vine was too young yet to be of any use, but Severus could tell that the oak tree's chances of surviving were already slim. Leechvines had tiny seeds covering nearly ever inch of themselves, and even if the vine were burned and chopped away, a single shred of the pernicious plant against the body of any other plant could lead to the seed taking root in that new host's flesh, and the vine would suck nutrients and water from the host until it died. They were devilish hard to deal with if they got into one's greenhouse, because the safest course of action was to simply remove all nearby plants and to let the infected one die, rather than attempt to kill the Leechvine and risk infecting the rest of one's stock. The irony was that the seeds would not be fertilized until the parent vine died.
Fortunately, this one was far enough from Snape's own Potions garden to be a risk to his plants. The oak tree was large and strong, but he suspected it would succumb to the fast-growing vine within six months—barely a breath of life, by tree standards. Severus knew the various methods of removing a Leechvine infestation, but it was an arduous task, and the life of every plant in the area would be at risk once the main vine shed its seeds. Even the smallest crack in bark or a scar upon the skin of a healthy plant was enough for the seed to take hold and suck the life from the host's flesh even as the host plant still appeared normal.
As opportunistic as your average dark wizard, Severus thought. There were ways to catch the signs of an infestation and kill it before the host plant perished, but the signs were seldom visible to the naked eye. As so few signs of corruption are. Danger stirs all around us and grows stronger even as we deny its existence, just as Fudge's Ministry denied the Dark Lord's return even when the Dark Mark was black on my arm before them.
He looked wearily down at that arm now. The Dark Lord's death had not erased the Mark's outline from his former servant's flesh. It was paler now than even after the end of the first war, but it had not completely gone. All the more proof of Snape's irredeemability, it would seem. The Mark taken willingly would never be gone. Then again, even Potter's scar was still there.
Perhaps the Dark Lord's imprint simply would never be gone from the world, and haunt the minds and the flesh of servant and victim alike until the end of their days.
What other explanation was there?
Returning to the cottage after the sun rose, Severus wearily took up the task of researching Harry Bloody Potter again. The boy was still heavily asleep, and when Severus glanced into his room, he didn't so much as stir. Still deteriorating. Frustrated and starting to despair, Severus changed tacks from examining the boy's body and his magic and began mentally retracing Potter's actions since the war had ended. Fortunately, Potter's choice to join Severus in self-imposed exile made it simple enough to reconstruct his movements.
Could any of the magic Potter had been dabbling with have accelerated a curse's effects? With Hattie's help, Severus collected all the books Potter had read from the library, and while quite a few had spells that might indeed have had a harmful impact, Potter's symptoms were still inconsistent. Besides, he couldn't see Potter wholeheartedly fooling with dark magic, beyond the childish game of being caught with the dark volumes just to irritate Severus.
Recalling the one spell that had thrown the boy into magical shock, Severus pulled out the book and flipped to the section on old Earth magic, to the Vis Vires spell. Potter hadn't been that sick yet when he'd tried it, yet it seemed strange that so mild a spell would have had so severe an impact.
Rubbing his temples, Severus ordered Hattie to bring him some breakfast and mulled over the page again. Nothing about Harry Potter ever made any bloody sense. The spell on the opposite page was also Earth magic, and a power enhancer that could have hurt Potter in that fashion if he'd tried it in his condition, but it was dark, far too dark for someone like Potter to even consider attempting. And surely Severus would have felt it if Potter had tried to invoke Adficio in the near vicinity—well, then again, maybe not, since its primary impact would have been on those who had no strong magic, like Muggles, who would probably not even miss their limited amount of magical energy after it was sapped from them.
Hmph. Adficio was the sort of spell the Dark Lord would have liked…
Severus froze with a cup of tea halfway to his mouth.
Wait a minute…
"Trust your instincts, Severus…"
He had to think…but facts and pieces of memory were slowly drifting into clarity in his mind.
Adficio…an old Earth magic power enhancer to draw magical energy from the weak…but risky for a weak caster to attempt alone…
Dark spells…Potter's taunting…the disinterest in the welfare of his friends…
The self-exorcism…possibly the most difficult and dangerous spell in existence…the odds of surviving after a successful attempt were slim…
But what are the odds of surviving an unsuccessful attempt?
The Horcrux…the Dark Lord dead…so the self-exorcism must at least have been partially successful, enough to prevent the soul fragment from sustaining the Dark Lord himself…
Dark spells…the sudden interest in Dark Power…the changes in Potter's very nature…the Horcrux, possibly not completely destroyed…
Oh buggeration.
The Leechvine. The seed of a Leechvine deep within a healthy plant, feeding…draining…
"Trust your instincts, Severus…"
He sat still at his laboratory desk for a very long time, then slowly walked back up the stairs and down the hall to Potter's room, where the boy still slept. So still, so peaceful-looking, so innocent…who would ever begin to imagine…
Light from the curtains just illuminated Harry Potter's face enough so that Severus could see the scar, still etched into his forehead, a reminder of the wound so many years ago that that had given a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul a place to embed itself.
A place to take root…
The host had died. Could a fragment of a Horcrux survive without the host?
Why not? If a soul could be split to create a Horcrux, why couldn't a Horcrux be fragmented still more? Pieces not large or strong enough to sustain the life of the former owner of the soul, but rather…
Like seeds. Taking root in a new soul, feeding off of it, draining the life away from the host and adding strength to the evil that first created them…
For the first time, Severus stared at the face of Harry Potter without rage. He had seen horrors in his lifetime that, as Albus had oft pointed out, would cause the bravest Auror to quail with terror, yet for the first time, he looked upon the sight before him and shivered. The weight of a promise and an unpayable debt was upon his shoulders, now pulling in two directions—the promise to do all in his power to destroy the Dark Lord's evil forever…and also that promise to protect the life of Harry Potter, who Albus had loved so much more than Severus (for which Severus had always hated him.)
"Albus…I don't know what to do."
To be continued…
Coming Soon: The Dark Lord Voldemort is dead, but something has survived, and Severus knows it lives inside Harry Potter. How can he honor his promise to Albus to protect Harry, and at the same time carry out his duty to destroy Voldemort's scourge from the world forever? Can he remove the cancer of evil that is taking over Harry's soul? Or will the price of the wizarding world's freedom be Harry's death? Find out in Chapter Four: Remnant!
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