Severus spent the next few weeks eavesdropping on Malfoy Manor, picking up tidbits of information. Among other things, he learned that Lucius and Narcissa weren't half as loyal as they appeared to be, speaking in treasonous whispers whenever Voldemort's back was turned.
"Draco will be home for winter break. If we can take him, go into hiding…"
"Where would we hide, Narcissa? There isn't a place in the world where he wouldn't be able to find us."
"Harry Potter has been hiding for months," Narcissa hissed. "Months, Lucius, and he's no more than a schoolboy. If he can elude the Dark Lord…"
"He's only managed to do so with help from the Order, which we do not have. Regardless, it's only a matter of time. He will reveal himself, and the Dark Lord will kill him when he does."
"Is that what you want?"
There was a long pause.
"I want you and Draco to be safe," Lucius whispered. "That's all that matters anymore."
Intriguing, though there was little Severus could do with the information. It wasn't as if he could tell them he'd been listening, nor was he willing to reveal his own loyalties. That would be too much of a risk, especially now that Lucius had fallen from grace. Exposing the Dark Lord's most trusted servant could easily restore him to his former position, granting additional protections to his wife and son.
Would he go that far? Probably, though Severus would be a hypocrite to blame him for it. Had he been in a similar position, he would've served Lucius's head on a silver platter to keep Harry safe.
A couple days later, Severus eavesdropped on a different conversation, whispers replaced by screams. He warded his office door, casting Muffliato as he pressed the quill to his ear.
"I know nothing… please…"
"You're lying, Ollivander. Lord Voldemort knows that you are lying."
"I'm not…"
"Crucio!
This wasn't the first time he'd listened in on Ollivander's torture. It was a common occurrence, each session more harrowing than the last. He didn't enjoy it, obviously, but he forced himself to pay attention, remembering the vision Harry had described a couple months ago.
"It didn't work. Even when he used someone else's wand, it still didn't work. He wants to know why, but Ollivander can't explain it."
He thought about the duel between Harry and Voldemort, recalling the horror he'd felt when he'd seen that flash of light. The Killing Curse, powerful and terrible and unmistakable… he'd braced himself for the worst, shocked when sickly green had transformed into brilliant shades of gold. Twin cores? No, Voldemort had been using Lucius's wand.
"This is your final chance. Tell me where it is, Ollivander, or I will ensure that you no longer draw breath!"
Severus had spent the past week trying to figure out what "it" was, both disturbed and intrigued by the reverence in Voldemort's voice. Vague references, odd turns of phrase…
"The Elder Wand is an object of legend! I have never seen it, nor do I know anyone else who has. Many believe it doesn't even exist!"
The Elder Wand? He froze, listening with bated breath…
"Lies!" Voldemort hissed. "It is real, and it is destined to be mine! If you think to stand in my way, Ollivander…"
"I don't know…"
"Avada…"
"WAIT!"
Gregorovitch? Severus had heard of the old wandmaker, though he knew better than to seek him out. Voldemort was already on his way to find him, no doubt, and there was little chance that Gregorovitch would survive the encounter. It was an obvious outcome, so easy to predict that Severus wondered what Dumbledore had been thinking. Assuming he'd known that the wand was real…
He had known. Why else would he have left Hermione that book? More importantly, why hadn't he tried to acquire the wand himself rather than leaving it to a bunch of teenagers to figure out?
"Tell me about the Elder Wand," he said as he strode into the Headmaster's office. He sat down at the desk, turning around to glare at Dumbledore's portrait.
"Are you still concerned about my gift to Miss Granger? I already told you…"
"You're aware that I'm a spy, yes? I have my own sources of information, none of which have anything to do with that silly book."
"And what sources would those be?" Dumbledore's tone was light, though Severus didn't miss the wariness in his eyes.
"Every Death Eater you can imagine, not to mention the Dark Lord himself. I've been eavesdropping on them for weeks."
"Eavesdropping? You haven't mentioned…"
"Yes, well, there's a great deal you haven't told me either."
Dumbledore let that pass, studying Severus as he leaned back in his chair. "What did you hear?"
"Gregorovitch," Severus said. "Does that name ring a bell?"
"Ah, yes, the wandmaker. I believe he retired just a few years ago."
"According to Ollivander, he's rumored to be in possession of the Elder Wand."
"Indeed?" Dumbledore said, his expression placid. "Well, I wouldn't put too much stock in rumors."
"So Gregorovitch doesn't have it?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"But you know…"
"You assume I know," Dumbledore interrupted. "That isn't necessarily the same thing."
"And you assume I'm stupid!" Severus shot back. "You gave the girl that book, assuming I wouldn't make the connection. Potter's cloak is clearly the one from the legend, yet you expect me to believe that the Dark Lord's hunt for the Elder Wand is no more than a coincidence?"
"Stupid? On the contrary, Severus, you're perhaps the most clever man I've ever known."
"Then why will you not tell me…"
"Because your role in this war is separate from Harry's. Equally important, but separate. I ask that you not interfere with his, just as I would ask him not to interfere with yours."
Pointless. A complete waste of time. Severus cursed under his breath, summoning his traveling cloak as he rose from his chair.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
Severus arrived at Grimmauld Place a few minutes later, careful to announce his presence as he stepped into the foyer. Weasley acknowledged him with a grunt, waving him toward the sitting room.
"Is that…" Hermione shot up from the couch as soon as she saw him, her cheeks flushed. An odd reaction, to say the least, though he was glad to see that all three of them were safe and well. Harry in particular looked better than the last time he'd seen him, green eyes bright and alert.
"You've been taking your potion, I see."
"Yeah," Harry said. "It's been working really well."
He nodded, pausing to remove his cloak. "If you need more…"
"Speaking of potions…"
"Geez, Hermione, calm down," Weasley said. "He hasn't even sat down yet."
Taking that as a cue, Severus settled himself in an armchair, giving her an inquisitive look. She was practically vibrating with excitement, reminding him of the younger, much more annoying girl he'd taught in his classes.
"Clearly, there's something you wish to tell me."
"I found something," she said breathlessly. "Or at least, I think I have."
"What is it?"
She picked up a book, one he recognized from his collection. It was bound in black dragon hide, studded with pewter letters, the edge of each page stained with blood red ink. Quite dark, even by his standards… he couldn't recall if he'd ever read it all the way through.
"I was reading about balance," she said. "You know, the balance between dark and light? According to Dumbledore, a Horcrux is the darkest form of magic, the most evil…"
"Correct."
"… which means that only the most powerful form of goodness can counteract it."
"What about the basilisk venom?" Weasley asked. "It's destroyed three Horcruxes already, and I'm pretty sure there's nothing good about that stuff."
"Ron, I'm not talking about destroying it. That would kill Harry. What we need is to neutralize the curse, strip it of its power without harming him."
"Go on," Severus said.
"It's simple, really. Souls aren't meant to be split apart. They can be damaged, but normally when that happens, the damaged part dies off. It's like… cutting off a foot or something. A foot can't survive unless it's attached to the rest of the body."
Severus nodded, understanding what she was getting at. Without Dark magic, that bit of soul couldn't exist as a separate entity. It would shrivel up and die, a pathetic, powerless thing that couldn't possibly harm Harry or anyone else.
"So we just have to get rid of the curse?"
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, though it's not as simple as you make it sound. What we're talking about is the most powerful Dark magic in existence…"
"I have an idea."
He hesitated, afraid to get his hopes up. "Yes?"
"Love potion," Hermione said quietly. "A real one.'
He shook his head, ignoring Weasley's snort. "Real love potions don't exist, a fact you should be well aware of after six years of Potions classes. At best, they can only mimic the feeling, a pale facsimile…"
"That's not what I mean."
"No? Explain."
"In magic, it's the intention that matters. You-Know-Who was able to create Horcruxes because he had evil, selfish motivations. Harry's mum protected him out of selflessness and love. Her magic was stronger, at least in that moment…"
"Significantly so," Severus said.
"Right, so I was thinking… if there was someone else who loved Harry that much, to the point that they were willing to die for him? That might be enough to counter the Horcrux."
"That's your brilliant idea?" Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Hermione, but you'd better come up with something else. I don't want anyone else dying for me, and I'm pretty sure…"
"No, no!" she said hastily. "I'm talking about a potion, a way to channel that sort of blood protection without anyone getting hurt. All it would take is a bit of blood… well, that and the right intentions."
"My blood?"
"Of course. You're Harry's father."
All these months, and it was still jarring to hear it said aloud. Most of the time, they tiptoed around it, careful not to disturb the status quo. It was easier that way, not to mention less awkward, though Severus couldn't help wondering if it had done more harm than good. It certainly hadn't prepared him for this moment, one in which every ounce of his worth as a parent would be called into question.
"So," Weasley said, "how do we make it?"
Hermione hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm not sure."
Had they forgotten that Severus was a bloody Potions Master? He was about to point that out when he paused, intrigued by Weasley's next question.
"What about that book, Harry? You know, the one you were using last year?"
"I… lost it."
"Shame," WeasIey said. "I'll bet the Half-Blood Prince would've known what to do."
"The Half-Blood Prince?" Severus said, feigning ignorance. "Who's that?"
To his surprise, they told him everything, explaining how Harry had acquired the book and how much it had helped him in Slughorn's class. Of course, Severus already knew it had been in Harry's possession. He'd seen a glimpse of it in his memories on the day he'd cast Sectumsempra.
"So you don't know the identity of this… Prince?"
"Well, Hermione did find an old newspaper clipping about an Eileen Prince," Harry said, "but it couldn't have been her. She was a pureblood, for one thing…"
"A pureblood who married a Muggle," Severus said. "More specifically, a Muggle by the name of 'Snape'."
Harry looked confused before his eyes widened. "You?"
As much as he wanted to discuss the book and all its implications, he didn't have time just now. All he could do was nod, smirking at the trio of stunned faces as he rose to his feet.
"Needless to say, I am more than capable of brewing any potion that might be required. Now if you'll excuse me… I have work to do."
Severus spent the next few nights in his lab, fortified by a ridiculous amount of coffee. He didn't stop until sunrise, taking brief naps in the mornings before he saw to his headmaster duties. It was a grueling schedule, though for once, he didn't mind. Brewing was a welcome escape, his senses soothed by the familiar, comforting routine.
On the fourth night, he made a breakthrough, the lab suddenly filled with an aroma that reminded him of home. Spinner's End? Certainly not. He couldn't quite describe it, though he followed his instincts, taking out a knife and cutting into his forearm. He bled into the cauldron, watching the color change from deep pink to a pure, shimmering white.
Vain, perhaps, but he'd never doubted his ability to produce a suitable potion. What he did doubt was the strength of his emotions, something he couldn't control by adding more powdered moonstone or applying the right amount of heat. He knew he cared about Harry, but did he love him? Without that final, crucial ingredient, even the most flawless potion would be worthless.
"Dumbledore," he said as he returned to the Headmaster's office. The portrait snorted in response, cracking open a painted blue eye.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, Severus? It's four in the morning."
"There's something I wish to discuss."
Dumbledore hesitated, reaching up to stifle a yawn. "If this is about books or wandmakers…"
"No."
"No? What is it, then?"
"Horcruxes," Severus said, "specifically the one inside of Harry. I've been doing some research, and I think I may have found a solution."
"There is no other solution. I've already told you…"
"What, that he has to die? Did you honestly expect me to accept that without at least trying to find an alternative?"
"If there was an alternative," Dumbledore said, "don't you think I would've found it? Believe me, Severus, I wouldn't send an innocent boy to his death as anything but a last resort."
"Perhaps not, but we all have blind spots. Could it be possible that I have knowledge you do not possess?"
"Knowledge where Harry is concerned?" Dumbledore smiled. "That seems unlikely, though do feel free to tell me about this solution of yours."
Patronizing old bastard. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, careful to remain neutral as he explained Hermione's theory. He talked about the balance between dark and light, ways to neutralize the Horcrux…
"A potion infused with blood magic?" Dumbledore said. "Yes, that was one of the possibilities I considered."
"Why did you reject it?"
"Several reasons, though mainly because of the depth of love it would require."
"The love of a parent?"
"Ideally, yes," Dumbledore said. "Had James survived…"
"Why not someone else who cared for the boy?" Severus interrupted. "One of his friends, perhaps, or maybe even yourself?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Only the deepest, most sacrificial love could've worked, magnified by a shared bloodline. That is what Lily gave to Harry that night in Godric's Hollow, a type of magic I couldn't possibly reproduce in potion form. Without living parents or at least a close relative who'd be willing to sacrifice themselves…"
"How would it work? I mean, assuming there was a suitable person who was willing to give their blood?"
"If you're thinking of Petunia Dursley…"
"Of course not. My question is purely hypothetical."
Dumbledore frowned. "Why do you want to know?"
"I've spent my life studying potions. Naturally, I'm curious about anything related to that pursuit."
Thankfully, Dumbledore seemed to accept this explanation. He nodded, his expression thoughtful.
"My understanding is that the protection would extend to Harry himself, not the Horcrux inside him. It would act as a buffer, much like Lily's sacrifice, though the Killing Curse would hit that bit of unguarded soul rather than rebounding entirely."
"Interesting," Severus said, "though I wonder if it might provide other, more subtle benefits."
"Subtle?"
"The point of blood protection is to shield the recipient from harm. That certainly works in an immediate sense, but Lily's sacrifice also had long-term effects. Isn't that why you insisted that the boy stay with his aunt?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort couldn't touch him there, nor could any of his followers. That was the strength of Lily's love, so powerful that it was able to repel their hatred from beyond the grave."
"What about the Horcrux? If she'd survived and her protection had been given as a potion…"
"Ah, but you're forgetting something."
"What?"
Dumbledore smiled. "If Lily had survived, that Horcrux wouldn't exist."
"Fine, then let's assume we're speaking of the boy's father." Severus paused, struggling to hide his impatience. "If he'd given his blood, and if that potion came in contact with the Horcrux…"
"We're speaking of long-term effects?"
Severus nodded.
"Well," Dumbledore said, "love and hate are incompatible, and good is ultimately more powerful than evil. I can't be sure, but I believe that it would weaken the Horcrux, serving as an antidote to the curse that created it."
"What do you mean by 'weaken'? Would it die off?"
"It's not that simple, or at least, I don't believe it is. It's the curse we're speaking of, not the soul. They don't necessarily share the same lifespan."
"I see. And how will I be able to tell…"
Too late, Severus recognized his mistake. Dumbledore had obviously caught it, too, raising a bushy white eyebrow.
"I thought we were speaking of hypotheticals."
"We are," he said quickly. "I only meant to ask…"
He trailed off, realizing that all the denials in the world would be useless. Dumbledore had already made up his mind, his jaw set, eyes brimming over with pity. Severus hated that look, one he remembered all too well from their more unpleasant conversations. Always the same expression, the same belief that Severus had no choice but to follow instructions. This time was no exception, Dumbledore's voice unbearably gentle as he spoke.
"You cannot save him, Severus. I understand why you feel the need to try, but that is precisely why a potion would not work. You'd be doing it out of love for Lily, not Harry. Those feelings cannot be transferred from one to the other."
"So," Severus said, "you believe I'm incapable of doing it purely for his sake?"
Dumbledore shook his head, smiling sadly. "Nothing you've done has been for Harry."
"Perhaps that was true at one time…"
Again, he trailed off, afraid of revealing too much. He'd already made one mistake… he'd be damned if he was going to make another. Besides, he'd gotten the information he'd wanted, suddenly anxious to put an end to the conversation.
"Forgive me for saying so, Severus, but you're not James Potter. Don't fool yourself into believing you can fill his shoes."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Only that you cannot force yourself to love Harry, certainly not as a father would love his child."
"Of course I can't force…"
"Good! Then we understand each other?"
Somehow, Severus managed to swallow his frustration, nodding stiffly in response. "You're right," he said. "It was a foolish idea."
"Not foolish, though impossible given the circumstances. At any rate, let's not dwell on it any further. I have other, much more urgent concerns."
"Such as?"
"Such as you, Severus. You look like you haven't slept in a week."
"I'm fine."
Even as he said it, Severus knew he was lying. He was beyond exhausted, so tired that he couldn't trust the words that came out of his mouth. Granted, his earlier slip wasn't a big deal, but if he had to deal with the Carrows or god forbid, he was summoned…
Clearly, Dumbledore was thinking the same thing. He frowned, lips pressed together in disapproval.
"You know what's at stake, Severus, how important it is that you play your part flawlessly. A single mistake…"
"I know."
He did know, though that didn't mean he could go to bed just yet. Instead, he reached for his cloak, ignoring Dumbledore's protests as he headed for the stairs.
"Can you pass the cereal?"
Harry slid the box to Hermione, stifling a yawn as he hunched over his bowl. Meanwhile, Ron had given up the effort to stay awake, drawing both their attention as he let out a soft snore.
"Ron? Ron!"
"Oh, leave him alone," Harry said. "It's not even 7 AM yet."
"Yeah, but we've got a lot to do today. There's a few more books to go through, not to mention…"
Hermione jumped, spilling her pumpkin juice as the front door flew open with a bang. She and Harry both scrambled for their wands, pointing them at the tall, black clad figure that swept into the kitchen.
"Oi! What's that?"
"It's all right, Ron," Harry said, lowering his wand. "It's just…"
"Me."
Snape fished around in his pockets, pulling out several vials and setting them on the table.
"Is that…"
"Take five drops each morning. I'll make more as needed."
Harry nodded, uncorking one of the vials. He counted each drop as it fell on his tongue, tasting peppermint and something that reminded him of… moonlight? It was a weird flavor, though surprisingly pleasant, lingering in his mouth after he swallowed.
"Well?" Hermione said.
She and Ron were staring at him intently, as if they expected him to sprout an extra head or something.
"I don't feel any different."
"Obviously!" Snape snapped. "It's only the first dose."
"Right," Harry said, taken aback by his harsh tone.
"But how will he know if it's working? Is there some sort of sign?"
"This was your idea, Miss Granger, not mine. Why don't you tell me?"
"Well, I wouldn't know…"
"There's something you don't know?" Snape snorted. "Color me shocked."
"Listen here, you miserable git…"
"All right," Harry said hastily, placing a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "No need to be rude."
"He's the one who's being rude!"
"I know, but…"
Harry trailed off, the three of them staring at Snape's back as he strode out of the room. They heard him knock something over, followed by a muttered curse… seconds later, he was gone, slamming the door so hard it reverberated through the house.
"Maybe this is a bad idea," Harry said quietly.
"Oh no, I'm sure it'll work! He just…"
But Hermione couldn't explain Snape's behavior, shrugging as she mopped up the pumpkin juice she'd spilled. All she could say was that he'd looked tired, chalking the whole thing up to a bad mood.
"It's more than that," Harry insisted. "All those years he hated me…"
"I know, but it's different now. Look at everything he's done to keep you safe, how much he's been willing to risk…"
"How is that different? He's been doing that stuff all along."
"The difference is that he knows the truth," Hermione said. "Don't you think…"
"Honestly, I don't know what to think. Let's just drop it, okay?"
She started to object, gasping as Ron poked her in the ribs. Harry took full advantage of the distraction, shooting Ron a grateful look as he slipped out of the room.
"Get out of my way," Severus snarled at an unfortunate Hufflepuff. He couldn't recall the boy's name, nor did he care, watching him disappear around the corner as he pounded on the door to Minerva's office.
"Ah, good morning, Headmaster Snape."
"Professor McGonagall."
She ushered him inside, visibly relaxing as she closed the door behind them. "What is it, Severus? You look…"
"Terrible," he said. "I look terrible."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far…"
"I need a favor."
"Of course. What is it?"
"I'm going to bed," he said, "and for once in my life, I intend to sleep for as long as I please. Can you handle things in my absence?"
Minerva smirked. "I'm sure I can manage."
He nodded. "In the event of an emergency…"
"I'll send my Patronus."
Five minutes later, he was in his quarters, stripping down to his underpants before he fell into bed. He'd never been more exhausted, though he couldn't fall asleep, still furious at himself over what happened at Grimmauld Place.
"But how will he know if it's working?"
What if it never worked? That was the question that haunted him, the reason he'd reacted so poorly. Of course, sleep deprivation hadn't helped, but he couldn't blame it all on fatigue. The truth was, Dumbledore had gotten under his skin, stirring up doubts he didn't know how to handle.
"You cannot force yourself to love Harry, certainly not as a father would love his child."
Did it matter that Dumbledore's comments were based on a lie? Not really. He'd still exposed Severus's deepest insecurities, the underlying fear that his efforts would end in failure.
"Nothing you've done has been for Harry."
A year ago, Dumbledore would've been right. Now? Not necessarily, though Severus still questioned his own motivations. He'd always been susceptible to guilt, and his feelings toward Harry were no exception. He hated himself for so many things, determined to make up for them, but was that enough? Did he truly care for his son, or was he just soothing his conscience, too ignorant to recognize the difference?
Time would tell, he supposed, though that was a frightening prospect. Knowing that his own inadequacies could lead to Harry's death…
Severus cursed under his breath, pushing the thought away as he summoned a vial of Dreamless Sleep.
Severus slept for nearly two days. He woke up feeling infinitely better, devouring a plate of roast beef and potatoes before he treated himself to a long, hot shower. The water soothed him, fragrant steam invigorating his senses as he scrubbed himself from head to toe.
He needed to take better care of himself. Granted, that could be difficult when he had so many other priorities, but he couldn't afford to be malnourished or sleep deprived either. His recent interactions had proven that, particularly his behavior toward Harry.
Harry…
No. He wasn't going to dwell on that, at least not tonight. His guilt, his fear, countless insecurities? They'd still be there tomorrow.
With that thought, he put on his most comfortable nightshirt, grabbing a couple books before he settled himself by the fire. He hadn't bothered to check the titles, shaking his head as he realized what he was holding.
The Tales of Beedle the Bard
Setting it aside, he turned his attention to the other book. This one was much more suitable as a distraction, an encyclopedic volume on medieval magical discoveries.
The earliest known use of the Cheering Charm dates back to 1349. While the inventor remains unknown, it is believed to have been created in response to the Muggle pandemic known as the Black Death. Naturally, the magical population remained immune to this disease, though the despair it created was difficult to avoid even for witches and wizards.
Honestly, Severus didn't give a toss about Cheering Charms. He turned to a different chapter, reading several pages on alchemic transfusion before he found himself staring into the fire. Distractions wouldn't work, it seemed, though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He picked up The Tales of Beedle the Bard, skimming the page he'd bookmarked.
The oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner…
For all his faults, Dumbledore had been a meticulous planner. He'd left Hermione this book for a reason, clearly believing that all three of the Hallows were obtainable. That would have to mean he'd known where they were, which made the rumor about Gregorovitch seem implausible. Sending Harry off on a scavenger hunt to continental Europe? That would've been too risky, even by Dumbledore's standards.
No. The wand had to be closer to home, somewhere that was accessible to Harry but not Voldemort. A place that was reasonably well guarded…
There was also the question of ownership. How was Harry supposed to gain mastery of the wand, something that could only be achieved by defeating its former owner? Who was that owner, and why had Dumbledore been so certain that Voldemort wouldn't kill them? That seemed like an inevitable outcome…
Unless, of course, they were already dead.
Severus's eyes widened, his fingers digging into the armrest. Albus Dumbledore. Master of the Elder Wand. It seemed so obvious now, yet he still had more questions than answers. When had Dumbledore acquired the wand? How? More importantly, what was the significance of him dying with it in his possession?
"Accio robes!" Severus shouted, pulling them on over his nightshirt. He was halfway to the door when he stopped, realizing he was being impulsive. As much as he wanted answers, information that only Dumbledore could give, he knew it wasn't that simple.
"Your role in this war is separate from Harry's. Equally important, but separate."
No, the portrait wasn't going to answer his questions. As far as Dumbledore was concerned? The Deathly Hallows were none of his business.
Severus sighed, summoning quill and parchment as he returned to his seat by the fire. He wrote down everything he knew about the Elder Wand, puzzling over different scenarios. Master of the Elder Wand, even in death…
Was that possible? He couldn't be sure, though it contradicted Dumbledore's actions. Why instruct Harry to find a wand that would be useless to him, forever bound to someone else?
No, Harry had to be able to wield it. Otherwise, what was the point?
Maybe the wand's loyalty was tied to the lifespan of its master? If so, it was reasonable to assume that anyone would be able to claim it once the owner was deceased. This would be a better fit for Dumbledore's plans, though it still left too much to chance.
Then, of course, there was a third possibility. If Dumbledore had relinquished ownership before his death…
But how? He couldn't have done so willingly. The wand had to be taken by force, not handed off like a Christmas gift. Perhaps it might've worked if he'd allowed someone to incapacitate him, but who would he have trusted to that extent? Placing himself at another's mercy…
"You must kill me."
Severus sputtered, choking on a mouthful of tea. He set the cup aside, not even caring that he'd just spilled an inkpot all over his lap.
"If you don't mind dying, why not let Draco do it?"
Oh, he knew why, and it had nothing to do with protecting Draco's soul or safeguarding the school. While those had certainly been factors, there was another reason, one he couldn't have possibly anticipated.
Then again, he'd also had secrets, which was why he'd insisted on poison rather than the Killing Curse. He'd needed Harry to know that Dumbledore was dying by choice, refusing to let his own son think of him as a murderer.
It hadn't been easy. Dumbledore had fought him every step of the way, demanding that they stick with the original plan. Severus hadn't understood why it mattered, but now…
"Bloody hell."
Of course Dumbledore had wanted him to use the Killing Curse. He'd needed Voldemort to believe he'd been defeated, cursed into oblivion by a man he'd trusted. It was all an illusion, intended to convince Voldemort that Severus had mastered the Elder Wand.
There was no need to ask why. Severus already knew the answer, truth hitting him like an icy bucket of water. Dumbledore had set him up to die, and to make matters worse, he'd walked right into the trap. Those falsified memories he'd fed to Voldemort…
Oh yes. He had indeed portrayed himself as a murderer, painting a target on his own back.
So what now? What had Dumbledore expected to happen? Had he assumed Severus would remain at Hogwarts until Voldemort made the connection and killed him? That seemed like an inevitable outcome, something he must've anticipated. So where did that leave Harry?
"He must not know, not until the last moment, not until it is necessary. Otherwise, how could he have the strength to do what must be done?"
Severus was supposed to pass along crucial information, something he'd been ordered not to do until the last possible moment. Had it occurred to Dumbledore that provoking Voldemort might be a bad idea? If Severus had been killed even a minute too soon, the results would've been catastrophic.
It could've been different. If Dumbledore had been willing to confide in him, they could've come up with a better plan. Something more subtle, less risky, the boldness of a Gryffindor tempered by a Slytherin's cunning. Indeed, if Severus had known about the Elder Wand…
He would've taken it.
There'd been plenty of opportunities, chances for him to disarm Dumbledore without prior knowledge or consent. Mastery of the wand would've passed to him, and while it would seem like a betrayal, he would've been quick to explain his intentions.
"The Dark Lord will never know the truth. When you allow one of his followers to disarm you, he'll assume ownership has passed to them."
That would've secured Severus's position while taking a high-ranking Death Eater out of commission. Poison, a bit of subterfuge… he still could've made it seem like he'd finished Dumbledore off, free from the burden of the Elder Wand's supposed allegiance.
Of course, there was a flaw in that plan. It would've made Severus master of the Elder Wand in truth, something that Dumbledore clearly hadn't wanted. He'd planned to die with the wand in his possession, which could only mean…
No one could master it.
Severus had rejected that theory earlier, but now, it was the only one that made sense. Dumbledore might've been reckless, but he wasn't stupid. Gambling on Harry reaching the wand first…
No, it was Voldemort who had the advantage, from his superior knowledge to his freedom to move about at will. Even now, he was off somewhere in Europe, chasing down false leads, no doubt leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He had the power, single-minded determination…
Indeed, Dumbledore had counted on it.
And there was the truth, as crystal clear as a bottle of Veritaserum. Voldemort was supposed to take the wand, to believe he had mastery over it once Dumbledore and Severus were dead. It was yet another illusion, one that would ostensibly give Harry the upper hand. How? Severus wasn't sure, though he wondered if there was some clue he might've missed. Dumbledore's final year, all those painful conversations…
"Accio Pensieve."
Extracting several silvery strands, Severus dropped them into the basin. Most were memories he'd reviewed multiple times, though every word and gesture had taken on a whole new meaning. Finally, he understood just how much Dumbledore had been withholding, pitying the slightly younger, much more ignorant version of himself. The night Dumbledore's hand had been cursed…
"I… was a fool. Sorely tempted…"
"Tempted by what?"
That was before Severus had known about the Horcruxes or the Hallows, before he'd discovered that Harry was his son. At the time, he'd been fully prepared to follow every order he was given, even those he'd found reprehensible.
"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"
He skipped ahead, viewing the next few memories in quick succession. Walking beside the Forbidden Forest, arguing in Dumbledore's office…
"If I don't kill you…"
"You must, Severus. There's no other choice."
"Oh, but there is."
Even now, it was satisfying to witness his own defiance, to see Dumbledore utterly at a loss. He clearly hadn't expected Severus to turn the tables, drawing on his usual tactics with increasing desperation. Outrage, guilt, intimidation… none of it had worked. Severus had been resolute, making it clear that poison was the only option.
The final memory was different, one that Severus had avoided since it happened. He was standing on top of the astronomy tower, the Dark Mark etched into the sky above him…
"Do you have it?"
"I do."
He watched himself pull a vial out of his pocket, poison black as pitch…
"What is that?" Harry said. "What are you giving him?"
The other Severus didn't have a chance to respond, jerking his head around as the door to the ramparts flew open.
"Expelliarmus!"
At the time, he'd ignored the spell, rendering Draco unconscious with a nonverbal hex. He hadn't seen Dumbledore's wand fly out of his hand, nor the way he'd grimaced as it ricocheted off the wall. To lose control of the Elder Wand, and to Draco Malfoy of all people…
No, the wand wasn't Draco's. He might've disarmed Dumbledore, but Severus had incapacitated him a split second later. Unless he was mistaken…
"It's mine," he whispered, crouching beside the wand. It looked ordinary, unassuming, the same wand Dumbledore had used for as long as he'd known him. It was so unremarkable, in fact, that he couldn't help questioning his own conclusions. If he was wrong…
Well, he supposed there was only one way to find out.
The following morning, Severus headed down to Hogsmeade, purchasing a spare wand and tucking it in his sleeve. He returned to his quarters, waiting until well after nightfall to put his plan into action.
This wouldn't be easy. Yes, it was necessary, and he certainly wasn't squeamish, but still…
He wrapped himself in a thick black cloak, passing like a ghost through the empty halls and out the front entrance. Casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, he crept across the grounds, spotting the marble tomb in the distance. It was illuminated by the crescent moon, soft, subtle light guiding his footsteps as he moved closer.
He had to do this. It was either him or Voldemort, who'd be hellbent on mastering the wand once he had it in his possession. Severus would be hunted down, most likely killed, and what then? Four Horcruxes still intact, command of the most powerful wand in existence? Voldemort would be unstoppable, undefeatable, and Harry would be his primary target.
That was all the motivation Severus needed. He pointed his wand at the tomb, whispering a powerful incantation. There was a shudder, a tremendous crack… the two slabs of marble fell away, exposing the shrouded figure that lay within.
"Sectumsempra."
He flicked his wand with surgical precision, applying just enough pressure to cut through the wrappings on Dumbledore's chest. Gingerly, he moved them aside, revealing a pair of folded hands.
And there it was, the same wand he'd seen last night in the Pensieve. It still didn't look like anything special, though he'd come too far to turn back now. He took a deep breath, his fingers closing around the handle.
He'd been right. He knew it from the moment he touched it, a jolt of pure electricity thrumming through his veins. Cascades of silver sparks shot from the tip, raining down over the grave like shooting stars.
Severus Snape. Master of the Elder Wand.
Unfortunately, he didn't have time to dwell on the significance. Perhaps later, but for now, he had work to do.
Reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out the wand he'd purchased. He transfigured it into a perfect replica of the wand he'd just taken, sliding it beneath the folded hands. Following that, he repaired the shroud, making sure the wrappings were in perfect condition before he turned his attention to the broken slabs of marble.
"Reparo."
Simple. Effortless. He nodded in satisfaction, concealing the Elder Wand beneath his cloak as he headed back up to the castle.