The Dark Year

Severus Snape's year as Headmaster and one of the most difficult, lonely tasks he has ever had to face.

One had to wonder how he did it.

How he prowled within the shadows of a castle tainted and stained with a dark promise. Overrun by those too pitiful to be called human, tasting their excitement amongst the wounded cries of the students within their grasp. No owl dared chirp, no cat dare make a sound.

Danger was around every corner; a darkness waiting to devour those who were curious. Even hopeful.

But there was no hope to be found. None that Headmaster Snape could ever see, and that was the realistic side of him prodding his own mind, reminding him of the predicament he appeared stuck in.

They started calling it the Dark Year – like a hushed taboo that only they could speak. Terror that no soul beyond Hogwarts could ever know and a term no one except those within the walls whom were suffering.

It started with the screaming.

A distraught first year Hufflepuff who froze in fear when they were asked a simple question in class. Alecto didn't hold back, slapping the child across the face and leaving an angry red hand-shaped mark within her wake.

The Carrows were ruthless, vile stains on the wizarding world. The Dark Lord's pet lapdogs guarding the gates to their own version of hell. The one that Severus was forced to oversee; The terror that he had to maintain as Hogwarts' most pitiful Headmaster.

The wailing cries were frequent. Students forced to grovel at the feet of Death Eaters, kissing their mud stained boots, while his colleagues laughed at the sadism. The twisted, mocking laughs as the children cried in pain tested Severus' patience every since weary day. He was not a physical man, but so many times he was close to plummeting those deranged twins to the floor himself, tempted to take a piece of them with him as his own patience reached a tether he didn't know he could reach.

But Severus tried his best, freeing students from their chained confines of the dungeons when they were severely punished, only to heal their wounds and obliviate them in order to save them from the truth.

His truth.

Keeping Fenrir away from such young blood was one of his more repulsing tasks. The glistening saliva upon the eager lips of the twisted werewolf sickened even him, and Severus tried desperately to cast protective charms to hide the more appealing scents and keeps those children untouched. The Dark Lord wanted him to prowl the grounds, ensuring that frightened students did not attempt to escape, but sometimes the werewolf could not resist venturing into the grounds.

Famished. Hungry.

But the werewolf cowered at Severus' power, leaving him satisfied that at least with the Dark Lords tainted blessings, that he would heed to his commands.

As the months trudged on, some of the older students began to fight back. Longbottom took the reigns when Potter was gone, which had surprised even himself. The boy's resilience and courage has emerged when all hope was lost, and Severus had wondered where on earth it was all those cowering, pathetic weakened years ago. The boy continued to lead the resistance against him, defying the darkness that grappled hold onto Hogwarts like diseased tendrils.

But he couldn't him. Neither of them.

Severus played ignorance, granting relief where he could without compromising his position. He knew they were hiding in the Room of Requirement, for the portraits were in his favor, supported by the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. A small relief that only a mere portrait could give. Severus constantly barked orders at those Death Eaters to find them, hungry for young blood, but their search turned useless hiding his own smirk before his goblet of dry wine at the staff table.

Fools.

Dumbledore trusted Severus to keep the students safe, but they both knew his hands were tied. How could he protect them when he was under constant surveillance? He could barely breathe without being watched, but often he found himself cooped up within the Headmasters' office unable to face even that of those he held dear. Minerva's constant look of loathing and resentment was enough to drive knives within his heart. That look of utter betrayal and deceit so evident on her face, that he had to do what he could to avoid facing her.

…He broke down once.

When attacks and torture upon the students were simply too much to bear, and all but the mocking eye of Albus Dumbledore's portrait watched as he broke down like a pathetic waste of a man he had become. He was granted the power of Headmaster, but he still felt powerless with all forces against him. A lone man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. A path he had to face alone.

But there was nothing else he could do. He didn't want to do this anymore.

For weeks he searched for Potter. That insulant, rebellious brat who fled to the countryside with half the wizarding world after his head. A boy that could never do as he was told. A boy who would eventually come to learn about the sacrifice Albus had groomed from him for years.

A life he was destined to give.

There wasn't anything anyone could do. No solution, or second chance. Here Severus was, alone with a portrait barking orders as if the man in question was still alive, forever pursuing a child which was their only hope for the downfall of the Dark Lord.

Now he was the fool.

Those weeks turned into months, and still no sign of the Gryffindor. He was remaining hidden, that of which he gave him some credit for. But now time was growing dire, and he had an important message to give - Because even his own time was ticking.

But then they were spotted – The Forest of Dean. He didn't have a chance to question the location of all things, soon granting himself temporary leave away from the dark, watchful eyes. Once he found a secluded section of a forest that was cold, yet oddly welcoming, he waited. The Sword of Gryffindor remained glistening at his side, guarding an object of importance that even he was not privy enough to know.

But apparently Potter did, much to Severus' bitterness.

Bracing the frosty night and wishing for the frozen lake to take him under and end all his own misery, he placed the sword within its depths, freezing it over once more.

Then he finally found Potter. All but a mere tiny light of a tent that flickered. The Charms were barely holding, but he knew Granger had it under control. One of them needed the initiative at least, but now was not the time to ponder their inadequacies. They had survived up until this point, and for a strange flicker of hope within himself, there was a tiny bit of faith still residing in him.

Within his breathy silence, he sent forth the ethereal doe, as ghostly as the memory which sent it forth. He commanded the creature to lead Potter to the sword, keeping his own watchful eye away from Potter's. He could not be seen, and that was for the best. Once Potter had followed the doe to the sword, he sent it to seek out Weasley, knowing full well Potter could get himself killed without him.

The sword had to be placed in a dire situation and it could not simply be handed directly to him. As typical Gryffindor stubbornness would have it, it had to be earned. Regardless of this, Severus could not face him, nor did he want to endure that wrath he knew he deserved. And yet still, Harry could not yet know.

Knowing Potter could not do this alone, he waited until Weasley entered the vicinity, satisfied enough with the problem at hand. The rest – whatever it was – was in their hands.

But Severus still needed to inform Potter, but the timing was not right. Albus told him to wait, but he was growing impatient.

Wait? For what?

One wrong miscalculation and Severus life would be in jeopardy. He still had an important message to give, but the time was not yet right. Something about Nagini and fearing for her life.

What's so special about Nagini?

Severus tried to ponder this, and figure this out without Albus knowing, but none of it made sense. Why fear for the snake? There was something peculiar, and Severus could not figure it out. With many watchful eyes, there was only so much Severus could do, and so many other places he could be seen.

It was imperative to remain ignorant, as much as it appalled him to do so. Time was delicate, and he couldn't ruin it because of a curiosity that would quickly execute him.

And then he arrived many months later.

Potter.

The portraits had informed him that the Gryffindor was spotted close to Ravenclaw Tower.

Why there?!

Potter was proven foolish once again. He should have stayed away! How could Severus keep him safe when he willingly walked into the wolf's den?

And yet Severus played his part as best as he could, but unfortunately that time came from when he had no choice but to face his colleagues. They attacked him once Potter was spotted, and there was nothing else he could do. He tried to protect himself without firing offensive spells, but it grew useless. He was outnumbered.

And so, he allowed his colleagues to drive him out of the castle, allowing them the victory he knew they needed. But again, Severus' hands were tied.

What more could be possible do?

For now the castle walls were protected as the remaining enemies were also driven away. It gave a small measure of relief, but it was far from over.

The Dark Lord had ordered him to remain behind. For what purpose he didn't know. But as the battle drew nearer, his desperation to find Potter and deliver such a crucial message, grew dire.

But Severus knew he could not remain behind while the Dark Lord was hunting down Potter - the boy he swore to protect in Lily's name. He could not stand idly by while his students and colleagues – friends – lost their lives to this tyrant.

So Severus fought in the shadows, doing exactly what he did within Hogwarts walls – protect and heal students where he could, erasing any evidence of him within their minds. His mission was still far too delicate to give away his position.

And yet still his hands were tied.

He knew Potter was within school grounds…He had to get to him somehow.

He was so close. So very close.

But his Dark Mark suddenly burned ferociously, causing him to collapse on his knees beyond the crumbling walls.

That was the signal. A war was in full force and came around far sooner than Severus ever anticipated.

But it was all too late. He failed.

He failed Lily. He failed Albus. He failed Hogwarts. He failed Potter.

Now he was encompassed in such a deep, painful dread. He knew he was not making it out of this war alive, and for a strange peace, he accepted that. His purpose was reaching its end and once that was completed, he'd have nothing else to live for.

To him, that was his best scenario. He wouldn't have wanted to live beyond it and face the terror he inflicted on others, and the mistakes that paved his path to this very moment.

No, he'd rather perish than face them all again.

This was his fate.

And now, the Dark Lord was calling.

His very last.