Now, all that was left, as he stood by the white tomb, was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, and for a long moment, in the cold, silent darkness, Severus stood alone, waiting.

Finally, a rustling sound came from behind him, and he spun to face a dark-hooded, silent figure.

"Who… are you?" asked Severus falling back a step. The figure said nothing, merely stretched a hand out towards Severus. A thin, pale, long-fingered hand, with jagged, uncut nails emerged from the sleeve of the over-long robe, a hand that was eerily, unpalatably familiar.

Nervously Severus took his hand and he found himself in the shrieking shack.

"I have a problem, Severus," said Voldemort softly.

"My Lord?" said future-Severus.

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor's baton. At this Severus paled. That was Dumbledore's wand. Why did Voldemort have his wand? He surely wasn't dead? And why was Voldemort here? Had he found a way to come back? What had happened?

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?" inquired Voldemort.

"My—my lord?" said future-Severus blankly. "I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No," said Voldemort. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."

Voldemort's tone was musing, calm, but Severus had been a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks long enough to sense the furry building inside his former master. He didn't understand what was going on, but something had angered his former master.

At this Severus thought it best to listen.

"No difference," said Voldemort again.

Severus did not speak.

Voldemort started to move around the room.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus… do you know why I have called you back from battle?" prodded Voldemort.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter," replied future-Severus.

Severus instantly knew that his other self had lied, but why? What was so important about Potter at this very minute? Severus could figure he needed to speak to Potter or give him something, but what exactly? What was so important that he needed to contact Potter right then and there?

He was completely confused.

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I knew his weakness you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come," said Voldemort.

"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by someone other than yourself—" stated future-Severus.

"My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends—the more, the better—but do not kill him. But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable," stated Voldemort.

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But—let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can—" started future-Severus.

"I have told you, no!" said Voldemort, and Severus caught the glint of red in his eyes as he turned again, and the swishing of his cloak was like the slithering of a snake. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?" said future-Severus.

"—but there is a question, Severus. There is," stated Voldemort.

Voldemort halted, and Severus could see the Voldemort slide the Elder Wand through his white fingers, staring at him.

"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?" inquired Voldemort.

"I—I cannot answer that, my Lord," replied future-Severus, face paling.

Again Severus knew full well that his counterpart was lying. But why?

"Can't you?" accused Voldemort. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

"I—I have no explanation, my Lord," assured future-Severus.

Neither Severus was looking at Voldemort now. His dark eyes were still fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore," said Voldemort.

And now Severus looked at Voldemort, and to his counterpart. His counterpart's face was like a death mask. It was marble-white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

"My Lord—let me go to the boy—" pleaded future-Severus.

"All this long night when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…. and I think I have the answer."

Severus did not speak.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen," said Voldemort.

"My Lord—" said future-Severus, trying to keep his composure.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner," said Voldemort. "You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

"No!" cried Severus. "He can't be dead! Why would I kill him? He's the only person who cares about me! He's a mentor to me!"

"My Lord!" protested future-Severus, raising his wand.

"It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Severus, who for a split second hoped he might have been reprieved: but then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Severus could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.

"Kill," ordered Voldemort.

Both Severus and his counterpart screamed as he was attacked; his face losing the little colour it had left. It whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Voldemort turned away; there was no sadness in him, no remorse. It was time to leave this shack and take charge, with a wand that would now do his full bidding.

He pointed it at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, off of Severus's future self, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Voldemort swept from the room without a backward glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere.

Severus was shocked when Harry Potter took off the invisibility cloak and looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry as he tried to speak. Harry bent over him, and Severus's future-self seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.

A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from his future-self's throat as he tried to speak.

"Take… it…Take…it…," pleaded future-Severus.

Something more than blood was leaking from him. Silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, it gushed from his mouth and his ears and his eyes, and Harry seemed to recognize it, but did not know what to do—

A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hand by Hermione Granger.

"Why am I giving him memories?" Severus said aloud, receiving no answer.

Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask was full to the brim and Severus looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry's robes slackened.

"Look… at… me…" whispered future Severus.

The green eyes found the black.

"Lily's eyes," thought Severus to himself. They were not filled with hatred but were filled with compassion.

Harry seemed utterly shocked by the request, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Severus moved no more.

Suddenly the scene changed.

"Are these things that will happen or might happen?" he said when he managed to find his voice again.

The spirit just shrugged and looked around sound, but gave no answer except for pointing towards a grave behind him.

Severus turned to the neglected and unattended grave that he was being directed to. And went to wipe away some of the snow; he could hear the church bells chiming.

Severus Snape

Born: 9 January 1960

Died: 2 May 1998

He couldn't believe his eyes. He was only 38.

"No! I didn't want to die like this! I can change! I can change!" cried Severus.

He was now in the casket, screaming.

"I can change! I can change!" he exclaimed. "I can change!"

Severus continued his yelling until he finally realised he was in his bed.