Chapter Two: Coming Back?

Day turned to night. It was the eve of Dumbledore's death. All who had ever loved him were gathering around his tomb. They began to cry and mourn his loss all over again. Slowly, though, in the back of one witch's mind, another thought began to run through her head, whatever happened to Severus Snape?

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Slowly the earth began to rumble where the ground had sunk and ragweed had begun to grow. Dirt and lose soil began to make way for the hands that were desperately clawing to reach the surface. Screams were lost as a down pour of rain had come out of nowhere. Thunder and lightning began to streak through the sky.

Hands broke through the surface as they grasp toward nothing, wanting nothing more then to get out of the hole they had been lying in for a year. Slowly a body began to rise from the hole in the ground. Screams that had died on his lips were rising from deep within his chest cavity as he cried out. Pain was the last thing that had been on his mind, and it was now at the forefront of everything else.

He grabbed at his body his clothes falling off of him because they had rotted and had been eaten down to nothing. He was soaked and he looked like a ghost. He crawled out of the earth and lay on his back feeling the rain fall and run down his face and body. The rain hurt his body everywhere it touched, it felt as though he was being stabbed over and over. His nerve endings were on overload.

As he laid there he heard a crow caw somewhere from his left. He turned to look in the direction and saw the most beautiful crow he had ever seen in his life. He could tell instantly that it was of the female persuasion. He laid there a moment more before he thought about the last thing he could remember. Then it hit him.

Pain, so much more then he had endured at the hands of Riddle coursed through his head. He held onto his head with what felt like dear life, and then he remembered, the last three hours of his life engraved themselves into his skull, everything from casting the Killing Curse at Dumbledore to bleeding to death at the hands of Riddle.

Other bits and pieces of his life began to fill in gaps that seemed to be missing. Several things caught his attention the most; he had suffered because of Riddle and all of the Death Eaters. He knew what his mission was; he was to kill them all, but not now.

The crow cawed at him again and then took flight. She began to send him visuals of where she was heading and that he was to follow.

Severus got up, he could see what she saw, and could also see what was in front of him at the same time. Naked, he began to run, faster than he could have ever imagined. In his last life he was fast for a 36 year old, mainly because if he wanted to live, or run from death, he needed to be able to get the hell out of there. He had a lean body; he could not have weighed more than 190 pounds for a 6'2 grown man, well mainly because he had never really had a chance at a decent meal either.

He ran, the wind smacking him in the face, the rain pounding down on his body, making him finch constantly, pressure building inside of his body, he wasn't sure what it was, but it was there. As he ran, the water traveled down his body, and off his back, it was one solid color, and even in the night there was no mistaking the color red. Where the blood had dried in the cracks and crevices on his body were now exposed to the rain. Where the lovely insects had missed a few meals here and there, the rain was missing nothing.

Severus didn't know where the crow was taking him, but he knew that it was a place he had been to before.

Suddenly stopping in front of a large building, the crow perched herself above the doorway waiting for him to make the first move. When Severus saw they were in front of his home on Spinner's End, he wanted to run. Many things had been done the night he died, and the first place they had looked for him was at his house where he had sat down in his study and cried. It had been the first time in his adult life that he had cried over someone.

Dumbledore had given him a set of robes one All Hallows Eve. He had meant for Severus to wear them to the party he was throwing for the teachers in Room of Requirements, but Severus had been summoned and was unable to attend. Severus had always kept them in his study hung up. He never told the old man about them, but he had had a feeling that the old man knew anyway. That's where they had found him that night, blubbering like a baby as he cried into a set of dress robes.

More pain shot through his head as he walked into the study where he found the dress robes torn and shredded with dust covering everything, and spider webs blocking every doorway. Remembering was starting to become a bloody bitch.

Also remembering he was cold and naked, he walked back into a hidden room that was jointed with his study. He tapped and pulled on several books before a door emerged in the center of the huge bookshelf. When he was younger, his mom had let him dress up for All Hallows Eve, one year he dressed up like an American Rock star, whose name escapes him now. One of the few happy memories he had had, and he had always taken the clothing items with him.

He walked over to a trunk; he pulled it toward him as he sat down. He opened the trunk up and looked inside. There sitting amongst all of the dust was his All Hallows Eve costume. He pulled it out and looked at it. He had grown quite a lot since he was a boy. He knew what he wanted. He was now a man linked with a crow.

He wasn't stupid, he knew all about crows from his mindless readings he had succumb to in his childhood. He knew what others who had ever been gifted with this did not, he knew what his mission was, he knew what would happen should someone ever get a hold of his crow, and he also knew that this was exactly what the light side needed to win. Just because one was buried under the ground for a year in very awkward positions, doesn't mean one will lose their mind.

Knowing wandless magic was probably the only thing that saved him this night. He transfigured the clothes to meet his height and build. He pulled the skin tight black wife beater over his head. It fit to his body perfectly. All the muscle he had ever hidden was coming to life in the pitch black room. He then pulled a black mesh long sleeved shirt over his head. It fit just as nice as the last. He grabbed the leather pants, and pulled them slowly up his legs, they were just a tad too tight so he loosened them up a bit, he was, after all, going to need some room to move. He found a pair of combat boots he had acquired some years ago when he had to go to America to get some rare supply of root. They came in handy every once in awhile; well they had come in handy.

He pulled them on and laced them up. He walked out of his hidden room and walked to a mirror and looked at himself. Everything was fine except for the fact that his face was obvious. He went through another trunk that had some of his mother's old makeup he pulled it out, but didn't know where to start. He looked back into the trunk and found a theatrical mask his mother had kept from a fair she had gone to with his father, before he went bonkers. He liked it. He grabbed the white container, back then in wizarding times, the whiter you were the better, not that she wasn't already as white as a sheet.

He applied it all over his face, covering every last piece of flesh. He grabbed the black eye liner and started to draw the mask's face on. He drew on the lines, applied black lipstick, and was done. As a final touch he grabbed a black ribbon and tied his hair back, it had grown to the middle of his back. When he looked back into the mirror, he didn't even recognize himself.

All-in-all, he looked like death himself. He was ready to get this over with and then go back into a deep slumber; he hated this world more than anything. All it had done was caused him grief and misery. He loved Dumbledore like a father; he was the only one who believed in him in his time of need. He regretted everything that he had ever done. He hated himself for taking that bloody damn vow to save Draco's arse. The old man may have been already dying because of his own stupidity, but that didn't mean he wanted to kill him anyway.

He knew his soul would never rest until the band of Death Eaters' was gone. He wasn't going after Riddle for the simple fact that it had been Potter's destiny to kill the sick bastard. All he wanted was some sweet revenge for killing him and for inadvertently killing Dumbledore as well. They were all going to pay and pay they were, with their lives.

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Ok well this is the end of the second chapter, I know it sounds pretty crappy, believe me I wanted to redo almost the entire damn chapter, but unfortunately, I couldn't come up with anything better, so next chapter involves some good old fashion killing. Though I will say, it's not going to happen like in the movie, cause they obviously didn't kill or rape Dumbledore, no one suffered for 30 hours, or anything like that, but I can say that it might be a little interesting, I mean come on, most of these death eaters did some pretty sick shit to their victims.

Hinoki82