The Saving of Souls

NB: the chapter "The Black Moon" precedes this chapter (x 2 posted same day)

As the last rays of the sun disappeared, a subdued humming arose from the huddled Centaurs and Snape knew that the sand in his mental hourglass had run through. He grasped his wand tightly and, feeling a lot like the evening he'd stepped onto the Observation deck and faced Dumbledore, took a deep breath. Then he Occluded. Every bolt in his mind was rammed home, every vault slammed shut, every clasp secured. And to the grinding, scraping noise of the Ouroboros coming to life on the tomb wall, he strode out of the cover of the trees into the clearing. "Rabastan!"

Rabastan turned instantly with wand pointed firmly before him, then he saw Snape and laughed. "Ah…and cometh the man. You took your fuckin' time! Used to drive the Dark Lord fuckin' bonkers, that. Always late."

Watching the sorceress from the corner of his eye, Snape said clearly and carefully, "You can't bring the Dark Lord back, Rabastan. The Stone doesn't work that way."

Rabastan looked surprised. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Only the Occlumency prevented equal surprise showing on Snape's face. He stared, and edged around a little, forcing Rabastan and the sorceress to move with him, turning their line of fire away from Servius.

"The Dark Lord's resting in peace Snape," said Rabastan good-humoredly. "Happily duelling away with Dumbledore in the afterlife. Nah, he's had his turn. I'm not here for him."

This response had a checkmate effect on Snape. His mind scrambled for new, possible motivations and while he waited for inspiration he said, "Release the curse. Release Servius."

The sorceress glanced over her shoulder at the mention of Servius' name, and instantly Snape fired a hard, blunt Expelliarmus! at her and she flew back, her wand careening out of her hand. He then blocked the curse that Rabastan issued in retort and shot back with a Stupefy. Rabastan blocked in turn, and then with Protego shields raised, they both paused.

With his shield up, Snape couldn't use his wand to attack and his eyes flicked quickly between Rabastan and the sorceress as she recovered and got to her feet. She glanced about for her wand, now hidden in the grass somewhere.

"Come for a fight, eh, Prof?" chortled Rabastan. Half over his shoulder, eyes fixed, he shouted, "C'mon darlin' arm yourself. Two against one – this should only take a minute."

"Release Servius. Your argument is with me."

"Look about - he's being helpful and getting the Stone."

"You don't need him to get the Stone."

"Well I do now you're here! Unless I kill you, then it's back to business."

"If Servius removes the Stone, we'll all die."

"That's Centaur bullshit. The Stone's been removed before."

"Every Kingdom that's had it has fallen when it's stolen. A pestilence, Rabastan. A pestilence across the land."

"Mythical bullshit."

"But you don't know for sure, do you? What were your plans, Rabastan? May as well share now, since you'll be dead in a few minutes."

Rabastan snorted contemptuous laughter. "The only plan you need concern yourself with, Snape, is what I have in mind for you. Meant to die, you were. The Dark Lord knew what he was doin', was making some good decisions, and you – well you just weren't that useful anymore. You were in Barty's Foe Glass, he told me. You were a traitor even before the Dark Lord came back. I told him; I said 'Lord, that man is not on your side. He's acting for Dumbledore. He's sabotaging all your plans. And he replied, don't worry Stan, don't you fret, Snape will suffer and he will die. He said, Snape will die the same way as his mudblood slag, Nagini will take him down.' And then what do I discover? That you're not only not dead, but catching all the ones that scarpered, the ones just trying to make a life, the ones who couldn't do any damage no more, the believers and the loyal. You tricked them. They fuckin' trusted you, and you lured them into a safe place and then snapped shut! Like one of them carnivorous plants. And I thought, bugger – I've got to finish the job! Dark Lord won't be happy, not a bit. Who hates Snape almost as much as I do? Oh yeah….Neville. Ole Longbottom. Already converted, all ready for the greenhouses, here where the Stone was. Who better to use as cover searching around the Forbidden Forest than the Herbology Professor? And who better to use for settling a few scores, eh? I almost feel like doing it for his sake. Fuck you were shite to him. Still, he was a Gryffindor."

Snape half-listened. Rabastan's rant had bought him thinking time, but he dared not move. He had watched the Sorceress accio her wand and point it at him, standing nearby. And behind them, he saw Servius begin the climb up the wall of the tomb. A fall from the top and he would be killed. The Ouroboros was slowly winding around, grinding stone as it moved, and all the while the Centaurs hummed.

"The best-laid plans, Rabastan. They go awry. You won't win this one. Release Servius, and I'll spare you. Run. What will your Death Eaters do when they come out of Azkaban and you're not here?"

Rabastan laughed, but there was slightly less conviction in it and he turned to glance at the tomb that had suddenly rumbled and the ground tremored beneath them. Snape fired immediately, his Stupefy glancing off the edge of the shield as he lost balance slightly and the sorceress yelled Expelliarmus! but Snape had seen it coming and blocked it. He dived to the ground and raised a shield before Rabastan's next shot could get him, at which Rabastan glared furiously. "You're gonna fuckin' die Snape, and that's that!"

"You'll die too Rabastan – call back Servius!"

"SERVIUS! NO!"

The scream came from the edge of the Forest and Snape had only moments to see Amelie dashing out into the clearing towards the tomb. The sorceress took her eyes off Snape to point her wand at her and Snape immediately struck with a Stupefy. She fell hard to the ground. In the seconds before Snape could re-form his shield, Rabastan hollered, Avada Kedavera! But the ground rumbled again and his wand wavered, the magic striking harmlessly into the grass. Snape rolled away, expecting another but Rabastan had turned and instead hit Amelie with an Everte Statum, knocking her from her feet, and moments later had crossed the ground and picked her up, holding his wand to her throat.

"Undo Diaphne or the girl gets it!" he shouted.

Snape cautiously got to his feet. He first looked to Servius, expecting the boy to have fallen during the quake but he had remained clinging to the wall, now about halfway up, keeping his head bent as bits of stone and dust scattered down around him.

"Diaphne?" he then said, puzzled and stepping towards the sorceress. He pulled off the mask, and indeed, it was she, her auburn hair spilling free and her stunned grey-green eyes gazing upwards. Shaking his head, he looked to Rabastan again. "You converted her?"

"She wanted in, Snape!" Rabastan laughed. "You really have an art for pissing people off."

"Send me the girl and I'll Ennervate Diaphne."

"Don't fuck with me!" screamed Rabastan, suddenly jittery and purple. He thrust his wand tip deep into the soft flesh of Amelie's throat and at the same time, Servius faltered and one toehold slipped. He needed Amelie.

Snape raised his wand and counter-hexed Diaphne. She was at first confused, but Rabastan called to her and she looked up at Snape, at his pointed wand, then she scrambled to her feet. "It's over, Diaphne," he said to her, and she regarded him with a mixture of fear and dislike. "I've got your wand, and he's going to kill you. He's going to kill everyone if Servius gets the Stone."

She backed away, treading in reverse towards the tomb and off to the side, Rabastan followed, still holding Amelie.

"You deserve to die, Professor," said Diaphne, her eyes distant and cool. "No one else. I'm a nurse, I give care, I heal. But you – I've never known anyone to be so arrogant about life."

"The Centaurs you killed weren't arrogant."

"Humans!" she spat. "I'm talking about humans!"

"He's warped your thinking, Diaphne. Leave him behind. Go back to the Wicce while you can."

She stared at him scathingly, seemed to stare right into him. "I saved your life. I dedicated myself to healing you. I restored your sight. Then you fucked me and kicked me aside like a stray dog."

This was indisputable, and for a moment Snape didn't know what to say. He heard Rabastan laughing. "Oh darlin', that was a low point. Really? You fucked that? Now I feel dirty."

Snape held her eyes. Theirs had been a time when he'd thought she might be all he needed, that perhaps he was ready for an uncomplicated life. He'd let her believe and she'd thought she knew him.

She hadn't known a thing.

"Diaphne, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think you wanted a man who felt indebted to you. When I loved you, I loved you alone, for who you were, not because you saved me."

She hesitated. She flicked away a moth that had caught in her hair, and her eyes were slightly wild, confused. "Did you love me?"

Then suddenly there was a shout. From the perimeter of the clearing, a voice cried, "Give Amelie to me!"

Startled, all of them turned, and stepping out of the forest into the light of the fires came Sinistra. Snape could see that she was panting slightly, perhaps exertion, perhaps nerves, but she held her wand before her bravely, and with her other hand pulled her hair away from her face, then extended it towards Amelie. She walked slowly, surely, towards them. "Give me the girl."

"Aurora -," muttered Snape, amazed. Then horrified. "No – no, go back!"

"What the fuck!?" he heard Rabastan say, almost amused, but then there was a crazed laugh from Diaphne.

"You!" she cried. "You! You would show up here!? In your condition?"

Snape looked from Diaphne to Sinistra and saw that she had stopped, uncertain and was shaking her head slightly. "Diaphne?"

"Oh this is almost too good!" announced Diaphne. "This will bring me a lot of joy, Stan!"

"You want to kill the bird?"

"No, better. I want to kill the -,"

The sentence trailed off and Snape frowned, his attention on Sinistra, trying to complete it… in your condition? Kill the..? Astonished realization started to dawn, but he saw that her eyes were huge, staring at something behind him, her mouth open in shock. He quickly turned back, worried it was Servius, but it was Diaphne, batting frantically at a thick ball of fluttering, pale moths gathered about her face. As fast as she slapped them away, more descended upon her until he could hear her coughing and spluttering as moths crawled on her head, on her eyes, in her mouth.

Snape stepped backwards; the moths were pouring from the tomb's black entrance in their thousands, millions, a funnel of them winding their way to Diaphne. In the distance he heard the humming from the Centaurs raise in pitch, and above that again were the shouts from Rabastan.

"Holy fuck! Darlin', darlin'! What the -?"

Snape wavered, no spells he knew would fix this situation, he'd never seen anything like it. Diaphne was screaming now, but her cries came out choked, and she staggered and fell, then rose blindly again trying to run. The moths seemed to become ever more determined and surrounded her so densely it was hard to see her. Twice she managed to emerge from them, her arms stretched out wide before her. She was coated in the fine, scaly dust of moths so that she appeared almost white, as if dipped in talcum, and that her eyes were smouldering in contrast, and her silently screaming mouth was crammed with pummeling wings and soft bodies. He was repulsed.

Rabastan had pushed Amelie away to run to Diaphne's side, trying to beat away the moths, and in his absence Sinistra stole the ground between them to reach Amelie. She never removed her eyes from Diaphne, however, she as horrified as Snape. She wrapped Amelie in an embrace, shielding her gaze, and when Snape joined her there was a moment when their eyes met, his full of questions and concern; hers with hurt and fear. "Take her; get away from here," he said.

A strangled, horrified cry came from Rabastan, and Sinistra and Snape were once more diverted by the terrifying spectacle of the body that had since fallen to the ground, engulfed in a writhing, fluttering mass. He had assumed Diaphne dead, suffocated, but incomprehensibly the body was rising once more. Even Rabastan stumbled away from it. Like an unimaginable rendition of a mummified corpse, only wearing moths instead of linen, her frame stood, hollow but for the impression of legs, torso and arms made by the shaped accumulation of flapping insects. There were no eyes or mouth, but somehow it was quite clearly her head that turned in the direction of Sinistra, and her arm that raised and a finger of moths that pointed at her. "You took what I was owed," said the moth mummy in a strange, echoey voice that was both Diaphne and not at all; Diaphne in a lost, foreign domain. "I shall take it back. You will suffer a fate worse than mine, a pain worse than death, you will rot from the inside out and ruin all around you." There followed an incantation in a language Snape didn't recognize and then the moths simply erupted into a shapeless cloud and the being was no more.

There was a gasp at Snape's side, and when he turned to Sinistra she was looking at him, her dark eyes filled with terror. "She cursed me. She cursed the baby."

"The – the baby? What? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

The fear on her face was replaced briefly with amazement. "Now? You want to talk about it NOW?"

Shocked, Snape shook his head slightly and said, "Take Amelie, Servius needs her. Go to a safe place."

Rabastan was gazing dumbfounded at a scattering of dead moths on the ground, his wand hand limp by his side. His gaze lifted from the ground to the last of the moths dissipating into the night sky, and then towards the tomb. "It took her," he muttered. "The tomb."

As if in response, the tomb moaned again, the ground shook and the Ouroboros crawled in its figure eight, eating its own tail over and over.

"It'll take you too, Rabastan," said Snape. "Expelliarmus!" Rabastan's wand flew from his hand. He looked at Snape, surprised, but not resistant, and Snape could hardly believe it but the man appeared to be saddened.

"It's too late, Snape," said Rabastan, shrugging, his voice rising over the sudden change in pitch from the Centaurs. "Servius has the Stone."

Salmastrus reared up and heaved against his chains. "NO! It mustn't be removed!"

Servius had scaled in full the crumbling, shaking wall of the tomb and now clung to it just below the winding Ouroboros, his feet balanced on the slightly protruding lintel over the cavernous, rumbling entranceway, the fingers of one hand buried into a crevasse between the joints, the other trying to reach for the Resurrection Stone. But it travelled with the head of the snake and was presently winding away from him. It would be only seconds before its revolution brought it back towards him.

Snape found his feet and ran towards the tomb, but then halted abruptly. Clinging to the branch of an overhanging oak tree that leaned towards the tomb, he saw Wait for William cast his wand at Servius, shout "Carpe Retractum!" and ropes shot forth across the space, winding themselves around Servius.

But too late. Servius' fingers clamped over the eye of the snake and pried free the Stone. There was a jubilant shout from Rabastan.

The action jerked free Servius' hold on the wall. He fumbled, then fell backwards, swinging heavily down as the ropes drew tight. William was launched forward against the branch and cried out in pain as his shoulders took the weight and his arms were jolted forward and down. In less than a second he began to slip, and just as Servius came to the full length of his tether, only feet from the ground, Snape cast a cushioning charm.

Servius was buffeted from the ground, but in moments, embroiled in the rope, William came down on top of him. In the impact, the Stone was knocked from Servius' grasp and it bounced into the dark grass at the foot of the oak tree.

Before them, the tomb shuddered and the Centaurs fell quiet. For a moment there was utter silence. And then Snape heard an inhuman wail.

It was a long, wretched, abject wail and it came from the black place within the tomb entrance. They wail and they cry…they weep constantly, Charity had said. The Black Light.

Then came another. And another. And each was louder than the last. And in the background was the thunder of quaking earth.

Having retracted the ropes, Wait for William was now on his feet and was pulling Servius up by the hand. His face was distraught, and when both boys were upright he ducked his head and grasped Servius' arm, dragging him behind, trying to run for Snape.

"William! Go to Professor Sinistra – over there!" Snape yelled, the wailing and howling almost deafening, and William bolted, but Snape grabbed Servius and drew him into a quick hug.

"Servius! Are you alright?"

Servius looked at him, his face bland, expressionless. "The Stone," he said. "I must get the Stone." He was almost inaudible over the noise of the Black Light and the angry earth.

"Finite Incantatum!" cried Snape with his wand pointed at Servius, but he knew, without a curse-breaker, the only one who could counter the Imperio would be Rabastan. Servius pulled free, turned and ran back towards the oak and Snape followed. Behind him came Rabastan, his face hard and closed. "Get me the Stone!" he hollered at Servius.

Servius reached the oak first and began to scour the grass and leaves and roots at the foot of the tree, but it was impossibly dark and Snape recognized the futility of that before he'd even reached the spot. With a sweep of his wand over the area, he uttered "Revelio specialis," but before he had time to identify a revealed Stone, there was a blow across his shoulders and he fell hard to the ground.

Rabastan stamped down his boot on his wrist and Snape grunted in pain, then Rabastan wrenched his wand out of Snape's grasp. "You're a dead man, Snape," muttered Rabastan. "So's Junior."

"No…Rabastan, release Servius – we can put the Stone back, it's not too late -," said Snape, slowly getting to his feet again.

"You're just not hearing me, are you?"

Servius had found the Stone and held it tight in his fist as he returned to Rabastan – he lifted it as he came closer, watching Snape distrustfully. "Don't Servius!" said Snape, shaking his head, trying to find a connection in those hexed eyes. "Give it to me."

"Ta very muchly," said Rabastan, snatching the Stone, and he glanced at it only for a second before pointing his wand at Servius and snarling "Avada kedavra!"

Servius dropped heavily to the ground like a ragdoll.

NO! NO! Snape shouted, NOOO! But it was only in his head. Nothing passed his lips as he lunged, horrified, to the prone body of his son in the grass. Somewhere were other screams, other wails, the air was full of crying.

Servius.

No more.

Merlin, Charity, what have I done?

It may have been seconds or centuries that passed, he couldn't tell, having been hurtled into another dimension comprised entirely of white-hot fury. His sight had become tunneled, his hearing dimmed, and his hands and limbs moved on pure instinct. All he could process was a frenzied desire to maim and avenge. Grief, had he the time to wonder, hadn't broken through the steel walls of his Occlumency; he was defended by his own self-control, for the moment, protected by it. He turned and faced the enemy.

His wand raised itself, trained to read his slightest impulses even faster than his own mind. It was pointed and firing at the most instinctive of non-verbals before Snape was even conscious of it. Rabastan had aimed the killing curse at Snape, but their magic met midway.

The dark magic arced back to the tip of each wand, Snape feeling the jolt as his reabsorbed the energy. The joined streams flickered and twisted like green lightning, and Snape felt the strength of it, of Rabastan's cast, power through his wand, up his wrist and into his arm.

Around him, in the periphery of his vision, the world was fading, noise receding, all he could see and think about was the sinew of magic wrestling to destroy his wand and kill him. His reinforced mind strained under the pressure, his muscles quivered, and he no longer fought this duel with Rabastan, but with himself.

He couldn't hear the split, but felt it – his ebony wand had buckled, he felt the beginning of a collapse in his hand and when he looked his wand was still firing, but it had weakened and given ground. Distantly there was a triumphant laugh. "Your wand's broke, Snape!"

He'd owned, depended on, his wand for over thirty years. It had never once broken.

If your wand breaks, so shall you, Ollivander had said to him.

I have already been broken; Snape had replied. My wand is more intact than I.

I doubt the break touched your core.

His core.

Where did a man break? His bones, his heart, his mind? Were they all just the pieces of wood, splintering wood, like the beatings from his father, the scars from Nagini, the scars from the sectumsempra.

Or was it in the blood that spilled, an ebbing of care as it drained away, a resigned fade to black when those he loved in his life left him behind, left him alone, again and again.

But his wand still fired; it channeled from his core through the dragon heartstring, and he kept Rabastan back. His core was intact, his giant of a soul. He'd been broken, dead, lost everything and everyone…he just hadn't been defeated. His repair started from the inside out.

The green sinewy light was inching back, reversing towards Rabastan, and then suddenly there was a loud ripping sound, high enough to be heard over the wailing, and Rabastan fell to the ground, the pieces of his shattered wand flying into the air and the killing curse vanished. Panting and remorseless, Snape walked over and pointed his split wand at him a final time. "You were last on my hit list, and you killed my son. I should put this through your throat and let the abhumans have you…give me the Stone."

There was a tremendous thundering rumble, and the ground convulsed beneath their feet. The wailing and howls drowned out all else, and the Centaurs now huddled together, arms around each other, fear palpable in their trembling bodies. From the tomb entrance flew shapeless, pale forms, vapor-like, skimming the ground and ascending, escaping into the night.

"Dad! Dad!"

Snape swung around, stunned. Servius was on his feet, dirty and disheveled, but otherwise apparently unharmed and back in himself. He looked terrified, however. Snape could do little else but stare. He heard Rabastan utter his own thoughts. "What the-? You were dead!"

Amelie flew into Servius' unprepared arms, almost knocking him over, and hugged him tightly. "It worked," she said, but her words were drowned out under the dreadful din from the tomb. "Quickly! Get away!"

Snape assessed the situation in seconds, noting Sinistra with Wait for William across the clearing, closer to the trees – she had an arm half extended towards Amelie and Servius, trying to coax them to her, but her attention was on the tomb, as the Ouroboros was winding once more. But now it began to unravel from its figure eight and grow rapidly in size, ever larger and crawling all over the exterior of the tomb until the immense stone snake was too vast for the building and it hit the ground with an earth-shaking crash. Its blind head reared up like a cobra and searched back and forth before fixating on the Stone, still held by Rabastan in the group standing not far below. All around the spirits flitted like smoke.

"Give it the Stone!" hollered Salmastrus. "It wants it!"

Snape grabbed Servius and Amelie, putting himself between them and the Ouroboros. He could feel Servius quaking, Amelie was sobbing and he himself felt liquid inside with fear as the monstrous, stone serpent rent trees aside and gouged a trench in the earth as it slithered towards them, its open-mouth full of sharp, stone fangs, towering in the sky. When it was above them, pebbles and dirt and bits of foliage rained down and Snape shielded their heads with his cloak.

Rabastan swore and began to run backwards, then he turned and bolted for the cover of the Forest. Snape watched in horror as the Ouroboros pursued him, needing barely seconds to cover the distance. Its passage along the muddy ground buckled he earth before it, tripping Rabastan forward, and as Rabastan fell he screamed and had only moments to cover his head with his arms before the giant open mouth struck, and a massive granite fang pierced through his shoulder-blades, pinning him to the ground.

Rabastan spasmed and blood gushed from his wound and gaping mouth before he lay still, then the Ouroborus lifted its head and the torso of Rabastan slid gradually down the fang and tumbled to the ground, lifeless. The Resurrection Stone, burning brightly, still held within his limp hand.

The clamour from the tomb had not relented, however. Above it, Salmastrus bellowed to Servius: "Get the Stone, Patron. You must return it!"

Servius looked at Snape fearfully, shaking his head, but Snape was beyond trying to reason now or even understand why Servius held a role of some significance. "The Centaurs know, do what they say. You must get the Stone. Hurry."

Servius cried "We're going to die!"

"No, not today," said Amelie to him. "Be brave. I won't let it hurt you."

The Resurrection Stone itself was glowing a hot amber colour and seemed to pulse. Servius swallowed a giant lump in his throat and walked tremulously towards Rabastan while spirits swirled around. He stopped once to look behind him and Snape gave an encouraging nod, and when the head of the Ouroboros began to swing down towards him, Servius gave a choking sob of fright.

As he drew alongside the splayed body of Rabastan, blood now soaking through the black wool coat, he knelt and with trembling fingers reached out for the Stone. When he touched it, Rabastan's hand twitched and flexed, and Servius fell back with a pounding heart, but then they were at last inert and he snatched up the Stone and hastily backed away.

"Give the Stone to the Serpent!" Salmastrus hollered. Shaking so hard he almost dropped it, Servius held the Resurrection Stone out as far as he could on his open palm.

The head of the huge serpent lowered. It closed its mouth and came down flat to the ground before the boy, like a massive boulder coming to rest. Before Servius was the carved rim of the eye, and there was a red cavity within that. "Put it back, Servius," called Snape. "Return it to its rightful place."

Servius stepped forward and shakily placed the Stone into the red hole. It swiveled into place, burying itself in.

It seemed unbelievable, but only minutes had passed, and all the while the wailing and moaning and rumbling from the tomb had been steadily rising until it now reached a crescendo. And then suddenly it stopped, the swirling spirits disappeared into the darkness, and the group were standing in calm and quiet.

The Centaurs all at once recommenced a low-pitched humming. "The Black Moon has risen," said Salmastrus. "The restless can claim lost souls."

Salmastrus raised his hands heavenwards and the chanting ceased again. He spoke clearly, addressing Snape and the children.

"Patron James Servius – we have lost many of our herd tonight, it is a tragedy for the Centaurs. But far, far more would have been lost had you not risked your own life to prevent catastrophe. You have the bearing of greatness, courage and of worthiness. On the night of a Black Moon, Psykhe permits a soul to be saved or resurrected. I can grant you this honour. Do you have a lost one?"

Servius nodded, and looked towards Snape, who inclined his head once.

"Then rotate the stone three times. Your loved one will be reunited with you."

Servius collected himself, and with a shuddery breath he once more placed his hand on the Stone and carefully rotated it anti-clockwise. As he did, the first snowflakes began to fall, gentle and silent, and they stuck to the cold stone back of the serpent as it then turned and made its way to the tomb, crawling around it and growing ever smaller until it could resume its symbolic position above the entranceway, the Resurrection Stone still burning brightly.

The black interior below it was brightening gradually, as though a small light from within approached. Transfixed, Snape at first jumped when an unexpected hand was placed on his arm, but it was Sinistra, and with her, Wait for William. They too watched the entrance, and with his broken wand, Snape used an umbrella charm to shelter the tired and overwrought huddle from the snow.

The illumination grew lighter and shone into the darkest crevasses and presently it began to coalesce into a shape until it was clear that the light was generated by a human form. It was Servius who recognised the person first, and breathed "Mum," before the features had even finished materializing.

Charity was becoming ever more substantial and, compared to her ghostly self, almost flesh and blood. Snape couldn't believe his eyes. He thought, he suspected, she was dressed in the same clothes she'd worn the day she died, her hair loose about her shoulders, as she'd been the last time he'd seen her. It was an ensemble intended for a normal day at the Ministry offices, more Muggle than magical – that had always been her trademark, coined so aptly by Dumbledore, and it did nothing to elicit any sympathy from Voldemort. Microscopes, ballpoint pens, credit cards, or mobile phones: Charity had been stubbornly comfortable in Muggledom, just like her son, and as an example of her ideology, walked that line between the worlds unapologetically.

She descended the steps of the tomb to the grass of the clearing and looked to Servius, smiling widely, and opened her arms. Servius glanced once at Snape, who nodded distractedly, and he ran across the grass to her, hesitated at the moment of embrace, but she drew him in and wrapped her arms tight around him. Her cheek resting on the top of his head, Snape could see that her eyes were tight shut, and she was still smiling, and then she pulled back and kissed his forehead, and then squeezed him in a hug again. He did nothing but grin and willingly submit to the affectionate manhandling, throwing his arms awkwardly around her waist.

There was so much overt, unashamed love that Snape struggled at first to comprehend it; pangs of jealousy pricked at his heart. But then he felt warm fingers creep into his and hold them tight and when he looked at Sinistra, he met her solemn gaze. It brought tears to his eyes and he blinked them away before she saw.

"You're so tall!" said Charity to Servius, standing back and inspecting him at arm's length, her smile radiant. "And so handsome! Are you a heartbreaker? I thought you would be when you were a baby."

Servius stared at her in disbelief, an examination of his own. "I saw you in the Pensieve," he said. "Dad's memories of you."

"The Pensieve? Ah, those memories before you were born. Then you'll know how much love there was that brought you into the world."

Servius' heart throbbed. "Mum, I've been trying to find out what happened to you, why I'm here, why I never knew Dad. It makes my head hurt, my chest hurt. I've been…really angry. I've done some stupid things and I…I may let you down. I'm so sorry. I really miss you! I wish you were still here."

She brought him into an embrace again, a gentle one, but it was a strange sensation, not the same as holding a warm, living person and he was stilted, unsure. "I wish that too," she sighed. "But we have this moment, and you made it happen, you found a way. Servius you need to know this: I love you with all my heart and always will. Your father is an incredible person, he will look after you, he is a protector, he will teach you everything you need to know. Try not to fight him – let him into your world because I need you two together - that was always my plan, to bring us together again. I promised your father I would, I promised him I would come back to him."

Servius nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

With her slightly opaque eyes, she sought his and held them. "I will be able to rest soon. I couldn't because there was something I needed to tell you, something very important. I need you to listen closely."

Again, Servius nodded.

"I named you James. You are named for your great Uncle, James Athan. Athan is an Anglicised name – my great-grandparents were from Greece and their name was Athanasios, and that means "immortal". The name James goes back thousands of years to Greek pre-history, magical history, to the first James and it has an important legacy.

"Great Uncle James was invited to Hogwarts when he was a boy, but never went. He hid his abilities. It's where I inherited mine from, and it's been passed on to you. He died an hour before you were born and as he had no children of his own to carry on his legacy, he needed to transfer it to a family bloodline via a baby's first breath. When you were born, Servius, and you took your first gasp of air, you breathed in your Great Uncle James' soul, his powers and his legacy.

"You have an incredibly important job to do. I don't know how many descendants there are, you may be the only one. But Great Uncle James wrote it all down before his death and left the letter to me. You need to read it. I put it away for safekeeping until you were old enough."

Servius' mind felt utterly saturated, he struggled to listen, to understand. "Where is it?"

"I put it in the Faerie Call – your father gave me one. There's a compartment in the bottom. I didn't want your Ma and Pa to read it – they'd just…they wouldn't understand."

"Where is the Faerie Call?"

"I took it to the Ministry of Magic. It's there, in the Ministry's archive. Safe."

Servius nodded nervously. "Okay, a – a letter, in a Faerie Call and it's in the Ministry's archive. And it tells me about a job I have to do."

"It's more than a job, Servius. It's a duty. An inheritance. A destiny. That's what the name Servius means: 'to preserve'. You are James the conservator." Charity took his face in her hands. "I couldn't rest until I told you. You must do the right thing now. You must have courage and conviction."

"I'm a Warlock, Mum. I took an oath," he told her shyly, not sure if he'd ever get to be a Warlock again.

"I'm so proud of you. You may be one of the greatest Warlocks that ever lived."

His eyes widened. "You're freaking me out."

"Your father will help you. I'll help you. Don't be afraid of your magic. You can never let me down, my darling, you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me."

She took his hands and turned them palm upwards, then pushed back his left sleeve. "You have my moth," she said with a smile. "Fly to the light – that's what your father said. Seek the truth."

"I didn't do the snake -,"

She laughed. "By any chance a Slytherin? It's part of who you are, don't ever be ashamed of that."

She was starting to fade – he could see through her to the snowflakes falling.

She turned her smile to Snape, and beckoned him, then said to her son, "I have to go. I will talk to your father, and then I can rest. I love you; I love you with all my heart, Servius."

"So soon? Now?!"

Snape approached tentatively and placed one hand on Servius' shoulder never taking his eyes off Charity who gazed up at him warmly.

"I have to go, Severus, it's calling me now. Thank you. Thank you for finding the way. I promised you that I would come back so that you could make an honest witch of me. My answer is yes, yes – come what may, I will never love another, I shall always be by your side. But, my darling – not yet." She glanced at Sinistra, standing with her hands loosely around the shoulders of William and Amelie, watching. "You have so much to do. So much yet to do. Love Servius, love freely, love those who need you now."

Snape lifted a hand and placed it along the side of her face, the face leaving him yet again. "Rest peacefully, my love. We will never forget you, never stop loving you."

"No!" cried Servius. "Mum – no don't go…"

Charity's features and form were fading, replaced by a white shining light, that for a moment dazzled and lit up all around them, and then it blinked out and vanished.

With tears standing in his eyes, Servius looked up at Snape and saw that his father was the same. "It's not fair," he said.

"It's fairer than most."

"I didn't say goodbye," said Servius in a choked voice. "I forgot to tell her I love her."

"Of course you did," murmured Snape. "Look what you did today."

And when Servius looked around through the fast, falling snow and saw his makeshift family standing by under their invisible umbrella, Rabastan still prone on the ground as Aurors quietly landed their brooms on the periphery, and the Ouroboros grinding to a standstill above the sedate tomb, he couldn't quite absorb it, none of it felt real. The hand on his shoulder, however, felt warm and steady.

"I'm proud of you," said Snape. "I thought I'd lost you; Rabastan, he - I – how, I don't -,"

"I'm sorry I've been a git."

A single grunt of laughter came forth. "I have so much to teach you about being a git," then he took a deep breath. "And…if I haven't said…if I haven't told you -,"

"I know," said Servius, with a shaky grin. "And Dad… I, you know, I do too."

Snape drew Servius into a rough hug, slightly awkward, a little wooden, but Servius allowed himself to steal the sensation of having strong, fatherly arms around him, the scent of perspiration and shaving cream, his ear pressed up against a hard chest and, constant within it, a beating heart.