Hogwarts

Halloween, 1986

"Check, Severus."

"Not quite."

It had been exactly five years to the day since Lord Voldemort had been vanquished, and in all this time not a single hint of him had stirred across the land. Indeed, the mark on Severus's forearm had faded to a mere shadow, and it had not once tingled with even the barest warning of activity. By all appearances, the Dark Lord was gone for good. But Dumbledore thought differently.

"Well, Severus," Dumbledore said that evening, peering down at the growling knight that Severus had sent his way. His mead sat untouched on the spindly table next to him, and his clear blue eyes were inscrutable behind his spectacles. "It's been five years since our friend Lord Voldemort made his exit. What do you suppose he's doing now?"

Severus regarded Dumbledore silently over the chessboard for several moments before slowly rolling up his sleeve to show Dumbledore the faded mark.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Well, we know at any rate that he is not powerful enough to summon his Death Eaters to him."

"But you believe he's at large," Severus replied. "How can you be certain?"

"I have my reasons," Dumbledore said cryptically. However, when he saw the impatient expression on Severus's face, he smiled briefly, and added "All in good time, Severus. I must be certain that my surmises are correct, first. But trust me when I tell you that sooner or later, you will learn all."

Right then Dumbledore glanced down at the chess board, just in time to witness Severus's knight smash his queen to bits.

"Pity," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

The game concluded soon after that, and Severus allowed himself a small sip from his own glass of mead-it did not do to be unguarded in Dumbledore's presence-before he made his departure.

But even as Severus rose from his seat, Dumbledore cleared his throat, said "Before you leave, Severus, a word, if you please."

Severus nodded, lowered himself onto his chair once more. Dumbledore might be sometimes capricious, sometimes capriciously false, but he had proven to be far more brilliant than Severus had thought even a few years ago. Perhaps even more brilliant than the Dark Lord himself.

"Albus?" Severus queried.

"You know of course that it's also been five years since Harry Potter was orphaned," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his beard.

Severus turned away, murmured "Of course I know it."

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore restated "Of course you do. Who else alive could feel as keenly about it as you, save for the boy."

When Severus had nothing to say to that, Dumbledore continued "And so it's quite striking to me, Severus, that after all these years, you've never once enquired about him."

"There is nothing to enquire about."

"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No!"

"And why so strong a No?"

"Leave me alone." This time of year, there was no snow outside the windows, merely a dull black sky whose stars were diminished by a thin fog.

"He's not like James, though he favors him," Albus said, as though having penetrated the weakness in Severus's Occlumency. "Rather he's more like his mother, and he's got-"

"Yes yes yes I know, he's got her eyes, pre-cise-ly her eyes," Severus sing-songed sarcastically. "Why don't you repeat it a third time."

"Severus."

Albus reached out his hand, lay it on Severus's own, his eyes full of concern.

"Severus, I would not have mentioned it, unless I thought you might want to hear how the boy did."

Severus whispered "Where is he. I thought you didn't know."

"Oh, I know," Dumbledore said in a tired voice-and for the first time, Severus seemed to see just how old the man really was. Perhaps a century older than Severus, at the very least. "But I have not seen him since he was an infant," Dumbledore went on, "and it is best that way. Yet let me assure you that where he lives, he is guarded by enchantments so strong, not even I could break them." A smile here. Then a frown as he added, "Nor Voldemort."

Indeed not. If Dumbledore couldn't, then most certainly Voldemort never would. This was the height at which Severus's admiration of Dumbledore had been raised. He, like so many others, was merely Albus's dog.

Something of Severus's pride stirred as he now said "Well then, Headmaster, how do you know whom the boy favors, then."

Dumbledore's face fell a little, and he replied with almost a touch of reproach "I'd thought we'd moved past the point where you'd called me Headmaster, Severus."

"Albus, then."

"Well." Dumbledore perked up at once. "I'll have you know I have a squib living near the boy's protective home."

"And?" Severus asked despite himself. Dumbledore smiled, and Severus rebuked himself for his weakness.

"Well. Since you've never asked in all this time, Severus: he lives with his aunt."

Severus tried to think, but could not recall any sister of James Potter that he'd heard of.

"James had no siblings," Dumbledore said, reading Severus's mind again. "I refer to the mother's sister."

Lily's sister. That awful girl, none other than-

"But why?" Severus exclaimed, getting up from his chair. "Why her? Why her, in all of the world?" That monstrous girl! How could Dumbledore have done it?

"One day you will understand the power of enchantments that live on in blood," Albus replied tersely. "But until you do, I'm afraid I will have to keep the whys and wherefores from you, my friend."

Friend. Severus was tired of that word, especially since it seemed always to hold him for ransom.

"You can't know what she's like," Severus accused. "If you did, you'd never-"

"It wasn't up to me. It was his mother who'd made the spell. I'd only acted on the inevitable."

Albus stood up from his chair, and that was how Severus knew he'd get no new information right then. It was petty of him, but Severus left without a farewell, because he had too many ghosts to attend to this night, to worry about the touchy feelings of the living.

"I saw that awful boy the other day. He was skulking by the river in some ridiculous cape, which was as threadbare as his regular clothing."

"Don't speak that way about him, Petunia."

"How can it matter to you? I thought you two were through."

"We are. But it's not nice."

"He's not nice! He's scrawny and dirty and rude! And his hair! Have you seen it lately?"

"I don't care. He could be covered in mud from head to toe, and it'd still be horrible of you to speak so about him."

"But why?" Petunia asked, and right at that moment, for once, there was something genuine in her voice. "Why?"

"Because," Lily replied, a sob in her voice. "Because no matter what, he's a part of me, Petunia, and always will be. It's as though someone reached down and took a handful of dirt from the riverbank in Spinner's End, and made both of us from it. Do you see?"

"You're mad."

"You just don't understand."

"What about James?"

"Well." A pause here. "James is handsome. And sweet, in his own way. Don't look at me like that, Tuney! He's also rich!"

"Rich?"

"Yes, indeed. What it would mean for Mum and Dad! And he wants to marry me, you know."

"He's still a wizard, though. Can't you marry a normal person?"

"Oh Tuney, when have I ever been normal?"

For a rare instance the girls giggled together, but then Petunia's sharp voice grew sharper, as she said "Does that Snape boy know? I swear, when he saw me at the river he looked as though he'd hex me."

Lily sighed, said "It's over for us. He's gone to the dark side, and he doesn't care for me anymore." Pause. Then, "What happened to him, Petunia? What did those monsters do to my Sev? Maybe you were right about him, after all," she finished, her voice a defeated sigh. "Anyway-and here's a secret, Tuney, I know how much you love secrets-James asked, and I said Yes. We marry this spring, and that's that."

At that point Severus fled silently from beneath the Evans's porch, running as fast as he could to the river so that he could dare himself to drown himself in its depths. The black serpent on his forearm couldn't save him; he knew, now, that nothing ever would.