Disclaimer: I do not own any of the franchises in this story. But who knows. Someday maybe I might.
The group made their way from the boat room back up to the castle. The mood was gray and sad, and no one said anything. The entire castle was in ruins. Huge holes had been knocked in the towers, the bridge that connected the courtyard and the grounds was littered with bodies and stone.
Then they saw the Great Hall. It was a mess. Huge mounds of stone, shattered glass, and rows of bodies. Dead bodys. Moning, hurt, crying bodies. Harry's eyes raked the crowd for vivid red hair, and found it quickly. Red heads all huddled around one cot. One cot of red hair. Ron ran towards them, and the rest of the group ran after him. Lying on the cot was Fred.
Hermione started comforting , putting her arm around the woman and whispering comfortably to her. Harry wanted to do something. He wanted to help. But his feet were stuck. Fred was dead because of him. He looked around. Were there any other loved ones in here that had died fighting for him? Remus and Tonks weren't there. Shacklebolt wasn't there. Neither was Luna. How many of these people had died for him?
Someone was shaking their hands in front of his face. "Earth to Harry?" Magnus said. Harry blinked and looked up. "What?" He asked.
Magnus took a deep breath. "I don't know exactly what those memories hold, but I have a pretty good picture. I just want you to know that life's not fair, and people make bad choices that they can't undo, even if their heart is in the right place. And whatever those memories tell you, don't blame him." He smiled and walked of, going to help heal the magical injuries.
It wasn't the most encouraging thing Harry had ever heard, and it certainly didn't give him hope, but he desired to forgive Snape if the right evidence was presented. So he turned down the corridor, trudging up the many steps to Dumbledore's office. When he reached the gargoyle, it swung open, without a password, letting him through.
The office was similar to what Harry had known when Dumbledore was headmaster. The same chair, the same desk, the same portraits. The portrait of Dumbledore himself was empty, and Harry wondered what other pictures he had, or if he was just in one of the other headmaster frames, which had all been filled of whispers until he entered the room. Now they watched as he pulled out the pensive, and put Snape memories in the basin, then plunged into the bowl.
It was spring. Flowers were blooming and birds were chirping. A younger version of Snape was watching two girls playing, but they didn't look like they were getting along. The older girl was yelling at the younger one. Snape moved forward. Harry moved forward. With a start, he realised who the girls were. Petunia and Lily Evans.
Lily had picked a little wild flower and was spinning it with her thumb and forefinger. Suddenly, she lifted her hand up, releasing the flower, but it kept spinning, flying away.
Petunia yelled again, but this time Harry could hear what she was yelling. "Freak!" She screamed. "Your a freak Lily! I'm going to tell Mummy you're a freak!" Then she ran off, leaving Lily on her own.
Young Snape moved up to Lily, picking a similar flower and spinning it to her. "Don't worry about her. She's just jealous." Lily smiled. Young Snape and young Lily kept talking. Different memories sped past in a jumbled mess. Snape explaining to Lily about Hogwarts and magic. When they got sorted into their house. Going to classes, helping with homework, laughing, talking. Then James. James being a bully, teasing Snape. They were getting older now, and Snape was hanging out with future death eaters, starting to dabble in the dark arts. They were starting to grow apart. Then came the final flaw. Snape had called Lily, his best friend, a mudblood. He was begging, pleading for forgiveness, but Lily wouldn't give it to him.
Now Snape had given Voldemort the prophecy, and realised his mistake. He was in Dumbledore's office, pleading for redemption. Anything to keep Lily safe.
Another memories flew around him. The day his parents had died. Snape was standing in front of the house, were a huge hole had been blown in the ceiling. He walked forward, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. He threw open the door and strode up the stairs, not even looking down when he stepped over James body. But his confidante started to fade as he pushed open the door to a nursery. In a crib sat baby Harry, wailing for his mother, who lay on the floor in a heap, not moving, not breathing. Snape crumpled to the ground in a heap, hugging and crying over the corps that was his best friend and his first love.
They were back in Dumbledore's office. Snape was yelling at Dumbledore, "Why didn't you keep her safe? Why?" Dumbledore didn't know what to say. He agreed he would protect Harry, and Snape would to.
They were at Harry's first year of Hogwarts, and Snape was telling Dumbledore that Harry's arrogance was that of his father's. He said that Harry seemed to relish in his fame.
They skipped ahead many years, but the place was the same. Snape threw open the doors to Dumbledore's office. In the big chair behind the desk sat Dumbledore himself. At his hand, which had only just started to turn black and withered, stood Magnus.
"Why would you touch such an object Albus, you must have known it was suicide." He was saying.
"I was greedy for the power, I already told you that. I wasn't thinking when I put it on. Then it hit me that the ring might be cursed. So I took it off, but this was already spreading. Now tell me, how long do I have to live?" Magnus reached into his neon jacket and pulled out a small vial of purple and green pills.
"A year. If you take one of these every hour until they're gone, six more months. And if you take whatever he's going to give you-" Magnus gestured at Snape "-another six months. About two years." He put the bottle of pills down and smiled apologetically. "There's nothing else I can do. I'm sorry."
"This potion will contain the spread to just your hand. Who is this?" Snape asked, clearly suspicious of the neon jacket, spiked and glittered hair, and sparkly makeup.
Magnus stuck out his hand. He had probably dealt with prejudice before. "Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn." Snape did not take his hand.
"Magnus, Severus, please sit." Dumbledore instructed. Bolt men sat, eyeing each other with distaste. "Severus, we both know of the Malfoy boys order to kill me, correct?" Snape noded, unsure what was the right answer was. "That boy was so much potential. He could be so much more than a murderer. So that is why I ask of you this. I need you to be the one to kill me." Snape made an outraged sound. "Now don't get mad at me. It is what has to happen. And Magnus. If Severus does not kill me and this poison does, then you will not be needed. But if so, I have written you a letter. You do know about horxuses, both of you?" They nodded, wondering how this could do with everything. "Harry and his friends will be hunting them. The most important thing that I am going to tell you today is that when Voldemort's curse on Harry rebounded, his soul, so desperate for a body, so desperate not to die, that it latched onto the only living thing it could find." Snape mouth opened. "Part of Voldemort lives inside him. And only Voldemort can kill him. It is his only chance at survival," There was a horrible silence. Then the memories started to get foggy, then they were gone, and he was standing in Dumbledore's office with the horrible realization of what his old headmaster had just said.
Harry sat down. His mind was racing. He was going to die. It scared him, but it was for his friends. He would sacrifice himself. He stared at the portraits on the walls, all looking solemnly at him. "My experience is that there is, you know surprisingly, always hope." Said one of the portraits, with a faint smile. Harry had never seen this particular Headmaster, he was awful young, but he was right, there was always hope. Dumbledore had said that the only way that I might survive is that Voldemort would kill me himself. So that was what was going to happen.
Only three more chapters at the most! Almost done. What that portrait says to Harry about hope is from the Eleventh Doctor, if you didn't know. So cheers and see you soon.