Chapter 1

The Only One He Ever Feared

The old castle loomed tall against the night sky; a silent sentinel keeping vigil over a sprawling school campus. It was a large, seven story building constructed as much from ancient magic as it was from stone and mortar. Its high walls and crenellations were dotted with rock towers and shingled turrets, the greatest of which was a high and lofty Astronomy Tower. Gargoyle statues sat perched on stone ledges, glaring down on a large open courtyard, sloping green lawns and a steep cliff side. A lush forest and a great blue lake were the castle's steadfast neighbors – the three old friends ensconced deep within the Scottish Highlands.

Castles were first constructed in the 9th century, ingeniously created by master stonemasons to provide protection and succor to its inhabitants, and majestic Hogwarts was no different. It was founded by the Hogwarts Four, the most brilliant wizards and witches of their time. The castle had survived floods and famines, earthquakes and storms; it had persevered through the rise and fall of governments, empires and kings. But tonight, the castle faced its greatest threat – a reborn Lord Voldemort and the second coming of his Death Eater legion.

The normally serene campus had been transformed into a nightmarish hellscape – Hogwarts was engulfed in flames, blood and terrible wails. The famous Quidditch pitch stood ruined and wrecked; the gentle blue waters of the Great Lake had distorted into a dark crimson hue; the fearsome Forbidden Forest lay splintered and broken; the walls of the castle stood blistered and cracked. Fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, man and child alike, lay dead, dying and wounded. Cries pierced the night air, more animal than human. Other parts of the castle lay silent and destroyed, a small memory of what they once were.

A small band of loyalists fought dutifully to hold the dark attackers at bay, helped along by the very castle itself, which was imbued with a deep and ancient magic sworn to protect its youthful charges. The fate of the wizarding world – the whole world – lay in the balance of what transpired this night. A maniacal despot could reign forever under the auspices of an iron fist, or a young boy could lead the magical world into a peaceful future.

High above the din and clamor of the battle stood the Headmaster's Tower, and at the very top of that tower lay the Headmaster's office. It could only be accessed through the famous Gargoyle Corridor and would only open for the school's true and rightful leader, and to those who knew his password.

A large rosewood door led into the office, which itself was a large circular room with countless windows and portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses. The grandest of these portraits hung behind a magnificent desk and was filled with the figure of a tall wizard dressed in a stark purple robe, who sported a long white beard and wire rimmed glasses. He was wiry thin, with a crooked nose and sunken cheeks. His bespectacled eyes shone a brilliant sky blue and usually twinkled with equal parts benevolence and mischief, but tonight they were filled with anxiety and were steadfastly focused on the only living person in the room – a pale, skinny man with long, greasy black hair who paced restlessly around the office in uneven circles.

"This is utter madness," barked Severus Snape. "I did not fly up here just to hide while my castle bleeds!"

"You must," cried the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "You cannot risk harm or capture just yet. Tis' not time!"

"Even in death you pull your invisible strings? You mean for me to die at precisely the right moment? Just like the boy?"

"There are things only you know, important things that you must tell him before…"

Snape wheeled around to look up at the gilded portrait, pure loathing etched upon his sallow face. He pointed a skinny finger at a glass vial resting atop an old stone basin in a corner of the room. "I've left memory threads for the boy to find. The office will seal itself when I leave and open only for him. He'll know everything if he's smart enough to come here."

"But how will he know to come here Severus?"

"He won't unless you let me go and find him!"

"No, the risk is too great and we've come too far…"

"So that's what this is all about then? I'm your back up plan if the boy falls?"

The portrait Dumbledore gazed down in earnest upon the current Hogwarts' Headmaster, but not a word escaped his painted lips.

"I danced faithfully to your tune in life, but in death I must be my own man."

"Please listen to me," beseeched the portrait. "Stay the course…"

Loud explosions rocked and echoed in the distance, mingled with screams of delight and terror. Snape's nose scrunched up in disgust at the sound and his eyes glazed over with black anger.

"I cannot stay here while others face death, I will not stay hidden up in this tower any longer. I'm done straddling the two worlds…I must go Headmaster."

Snape turned to leave, but leapt back in shock as the great wood door swung inward and a wreck of a man poured in. He was bloodied and battered, with a pointed face and pale straw hair. His eyes were blue with flecks of green and gold. His robes clung to him in burnt tatters, his face dotted with plum-colored bruises and red scrapes. His cracked lips were split and caked with blood and his voice quivered when he spoke, "I made it here, thank the Gods. He…He wants you…now!"

"Where?"

"The shack…on the edge of campus…the filthy haunted hovel! He waits for you there!" Lucius Malfoy looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore staring calmly at him, but voiced no questions. His eyes flicked back to Snape, but it was Dumbledore who answered.

"Thank you for your message Lucius, you may leave us now. Go and look for your son, last I heard he was fighting on the fifth floor near the southern most spire."

Lucius' stared up at the portrait with uncomprehending eyes, not able to get his feet to move.

"Go now, you fool! Before Draco falls and never rises again," spat Snape and Lucius swept out of the room as if a demon chased at his heels.

Snape turned up to the portrait, fear slowly creeping up his collar and washing red across his face. Dumbledore stared down with pity at the dead man walking, his blue eyes filling with moisture. They both knew what a summons like this meant at such a late hour.

Minutes later Snape found himself walking alone towards the Whomping Willow, towards the greatest Dark wizard of all time as the night air cackled with the din and echoes from the raging battle of Hogwarts. Every blast, every explosion, every bang – they pierced right through his pale skin and into his heart. They're killing my castle, my true home, and I can't do a damn thing about it.

Snape had only come this way twice before in his life and both times death had reached out for him and barely missed; he prayed its cold grasp strayed just one more time, for he still had miles to go and promises to keep. But a sinking feeling had wormed its way deep into his gut, a deep-seated fear yelled at him to turn around and run, to run away and melt into the shadows and never come back. But he could not. No matter how hard he tried to prove otherwise, Severus Snape was no coward.

The forlorn and lonely walk through the trees to the shack's secret entrance reminded the current Hogwarts Headmaster of another night, long ago, when he reluctantly went to meet another great wizard…to plead for help…to implore for forgiveness…to entreat for a second chance he knew he did not deserve…

…It was a dark and stormy night.

An icy wind whipped back and forth, a frozen rope slashing the air and sending an eerie whistling through a black forest. A young man stumbled amongst leafless trees, pushing his way towards an open hilltop that stretched out before him. The night air was chilly and dry, yet the man's black robes were drenched in a nervous sweat and clung stubbornly to his stringy frame.

The young man was not tall, but not short, had a high forehead and pasty white skin. His hair was jet black, matching the night sky, and he had to keep brushing shoulder-length greasy hair from his eyes as the icy wind continuously swept over him. Hoarfrost clung to his hooked nose and uneven yellowish teeth chattered uncontrollably – from the wind or from an ominous sense of foreboding, it was hard to tell.

The man's nervous apprehension was palpable, hanging thick in the air and choking away all other emotion – a sickly sallow-skinned vampire fleeing from an impending sunrise. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if an unseen attacker might spring up at any moment, fearful of some evil specter that lurked deep in the shadows. A strange fear emanated from the young man, infecting the very air surrounding him.

Panic stricken thoughts jumbled around in his head, his mind racing a mile a minute. Did my message get through unnoticed? Can he help me save her? Will I leave this clandestine hilltop alive?

As he reached the summit of the hill, Severus…Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or someone…Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air…Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand.

"Don't kill me!"

"That was not my intention."

Any sound of Dumbledore apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.

"Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No – no message – I'm here on my own account!"

Snape was wringing his hands: He looked a little mad, with his straggling black hair flying around him.

"I – I come with a warning – no, a request – please –"

Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.

"What request could a Death Eater make of me?"

"The – the prophecy . . . the prediction . . . Trelawney . . ."

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"

"Everything – everything I heard!" said Snape. "That is why – it is for that reason – he thinks it means Lily Evans!"

"The prophecy did not refer to a woman," said Dumbledore. "It spoke of a boy born at the end of July –"

"You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down – kill them all –"

"If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"

"I have – I have asked him –"

"You disgust me," said Dumbledore…contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

"Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her – them – safe. Please."

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In – in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore…but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

… Albus Dumbledore towered menacingly over his former pupil, vivid blue eyes drinking in the pathetic wretch of a man kneeled before him – Snape lay crouched on the ground like a wounded animal, desperation dripping off him like heavy steam. Dumbledore raised a palm to the surrounding trees – he didn't sense another magical presence, could not taste even the faintest trace of dark magic in the air, but something still rankled the great wizard, an itch he could not quite scratch – something just didn't feel right.

Dumbledore had been searching in vain for a way to penetrate Lord Voldemort's inner circle, the infamous Death Eater legion. Over the years, a handful of wizards and witches had sought out the famous Headmaster to provide them a safe haven after deserting the Dark Lord, but all of them had been too terrified to return and feed Dumbledore new information.

Cultivating a spy in the Death Eater camp was not difficult, it was impossible. Traitors and deserters were tortured for weeks on end if caught – strong motivation to stay loyal no matter how grave one's misgivings became. And the Lord Voldemort was an incredible Legilimens, he could root out any flicker of duplicity from one of his soldiers in an instant.

But maybe, just maybe, this troubled young man could finally provide me a way inside…

"You think me a fool?! Luring me to this deserted hilltop for a surprise attack?! Tell me now, this very instant – when will your Lord arrive?!"

Snape cowered like a scared child, his head cradled in his pale hands.

"It's me…only me. I came here tonight to ask you – no, to beg you – please, save her. He believes her death – her son's death – will make Him invincible for all time."

Sybill's secret prophecy…Severus had been eavesdropping and heard – that long ago night had set such violent events into motion. Was my former charge to be believed? A hardened Death Eater showing remorse, true concern for another? Unlikely.

All of the former dark soldiers who came to Dumbledore for help were motivated by one thing and one thing only, self-preservation. They had failed or angered the Dark Lord in some manner and feared the coming retribution. But this boy claims to fear for the life of another? How well does he even know the Potters?

"Severus," commanded Dumbledore, "Look at me."

The Headmaster bent down and tilted up the frightened young man's face. His bespectacled blue eyes hardened and glazed over as he peered into dark black pools that were slowly filling with hot tears.

"Let me see. Don't hide anything, don't be afraid…release yourself."

Snape had been so scared for so long, perpetually confused and twisted up inside himself – it was easy for him to let go and drop his natural defenses. He felt a sudden urge to laugh and unburden himself to the tall man towering over him.

He was a guilty man yearning to give his long-awaited confession, he had carried too many secrets for far too long. Snape looked past the white beard and crooked nose, into a piercing blue yonder and held nothing back. He felt a tingling in the back of his head as Dumbledore slipped into his mind like a warm bath and gently began walking through his memory house, opening up all the doors…

Headmaster and former student sat unmolested at the back of a grimy bar, for the few other patrons were too busy nursing their drinks and ruminating on unrealized dreams to take any notice of their surroundings. Snape slouched low in his chair, crestfallen and drained from the night's events. Crusty bread and home brewed mead sat on the table before him, invitingly warm yet untouched.

Dumbledore was back to his usual cheery disposition, a different person entirely than the tightly controlled ball of fury that had flamed hot on the lonely hilltop just an hour ago. With a playful smile, he tucked into a steaming bowl of Shepard's pie, but his bright blue eyes belied his casual demeanor – he continued to clinically appraise the pathetic excuse for a man slumped beside him.

"You've been busy since you left my school Severus. Done terrible things, if I'm to believe what I've just borne witness to."

Snape looked away, hot shame coloring his pale face – his gaze swept across the bar and settled on the tall oafish barkeep grumpily wiping a dirty mug with an even dirtier rag…he looked so familiar…Snape snapped his head back to Dumbledore. His vulnerability had suddenly vanished, sullen arrogance now resided in its place.

"It was – it is – war. I did what I thought was right, what I believed would help the wizarding world. Did what I had to do…to…to survive the maddening times we live in."

"Madness that you and your friends have wrought upon us all," replied Dumbledore. He was always so frustratingly calm, expect for earlier – Snape had never seen such ferocity before and it scared him, almost as much as the Dark Lord did.

"Are you going to protect her? If the prophecy is to be believed, her son is the answer you've been searching for lo' these many years. Send her a warning now – before it's too late!"

"Am I expected to believe that one of the rising stars in the Death Eater legion is going to turn on his master for a muggle born witch? Surely you must think me a fool, I expected more of a ploy from you."

"Must we keep going over this? This is no ploy, no underhanded trick! You're wasting time sitting here, warn her! I beg you!"

"The youngest initiate into the Death Eater ranks, rumor has it you're quickly becoming someone he can trust, even confide in. Why give all that up, why run away when you're on the verge of becoming the right hand of destiny? Tell me Severus, what is it that you truly want from me?"

Snape began absentmindedly rubbing his left forearm, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

"I just want her safe, to be left in peace. He must not be allowed to find her Dumbledore. That is what I want, all I want. I opened up and showed you everything, everything! My darkest secrets – I held nothing back," hissed Snape.

Yes, you've shown me everything, of that I'm sure. Fears, humiliations, insecurities…the loneliness…the abuse of your youth. You could become my most powerful weapon yet, young Master Snape. I kept an eye on you during your studies, yet had no idea of some of the events that I witnessed in your mind. Unsettling, most unsettling, how much goes on at Hogwarts without me being any the wiser.

Dumbledore let out a long sigh and turned the problem over in his mind - what shall he do with his former student?

"Would you like some dessert? Despite the unkempt decor, the food is quite scrumptious," Dumbledore said as he patted his bulging belly.

"No! I don't want any bloody dessert! This isn't a game," screeched Snape as he stood up in a huff, barely drawing any glances from the other patrons. The tall bartender also paid the curious scene no mind, casually flicking his wand and watching it emit smoky wisps.

"Very well, Severus. Very well. Now let's go over it one more time – what will you say?"

"His brother is openly in league with you and the Order, and it's well known that Sirius and I didn't get along in school, our personal vendetta is well known. I've made numerous objections to his initiation, so my delayed entrance shouldn't be that suspicious."

"Yes, you've said. You'd lose the record as the youngest person to be awarded entrance to the inner circle."

"That's not the reason and you know it," barked Snape as he strode to the door. Without looking back, he stepped outside and Dumbledore heard the familiar pop of apparition. He looked down at his empty plate, let out a contented sigh and beckoned to the bar keep.

"I think I'll be having my desert to go, if you please. Anything but that goat inspired cake you served me last time."

Snape popped out onto an empty street, next to a gleaming black sign with gold lettering: 12 Grimmauld place. Jubilant voices and soft music floated out to him from a cobblestone house – the initiation after party was in full swing.

It was a stroke of luck that the Dark Lord was overseas at this very moment, Snape's absence might not ever reach His ears. Someone had mentioned a sighting in Albania, but those reports could never be verified. As the ranks of the Death Eaters swelled Lord Voldemort did not have time to be present at every initiation – but He always made sure to "bless" each mark, making certain each of his soldiers were connected to Him. The dark mark was a living organism – it allowed each Death Eater to feel His wrath, to be summoned at will, and connected each follower to the Dark Lord for all eternity.

Snape composed himself, burying the events of the past two hours deep down inside of him. He raised his left forearm and walked towards an enchanted metal gate lining the front of the house – the metals bars melded into the night air and Snape felt a gust of warmth flow over him as he walked through the enchanted gate.

His knock at the front door was answered quickly by a very old, but spry house elf. It bowed low and quickly let the young man in, happily muttering to itself.

"Severus! Done sulking, are we?" smiled a fat wizard as Snape slinked into a large drawing room. The merriment and alcohol were flowing freely this evening – a party was in full swing with 16-year-old Regulus Black in the middle of the happy bedlam, his parents proudly fawning all over him. Death Eaters and initiate Acolytes were dancing and drinking together; celebrating and welcoming their new little brother.

A chalet of mead was thrust into Snape's hand and he skulked off into a corner to watch the revelry unfold, unease in his face. He was always anxious at large gatherings and never felt relaxed enough to let his guard down and enjoy himself, even when he was among his dark brothers in arms.

Glancing around the room, Snape caught the eye of a tall blonde man. His skin was creamy white, as if it were glistening marble, and his coiffed golden hair draped just past his shoulders in a carefree look, but Snape knew it was deliberate. The man's handsome arrogance was matched by the beautiful blonde witch holding onto the crook of his arm.

Lucius Malfoy smiled widely as he laughed at something, his mouth of full of straight white teeth – his appearance in complete juxtaposition to the brooding Snape. He caught Snape's eye and casually flicked his head toward the stairs. Snape downed his mead, shuffled to his feet, and left the drawing room, glided up the stairs to the second-floor landing and strode through a closed door down a long hallway.

A hazy fire crackled in the back of the dark room, filling the air with a burnt taste - a witch and wizard sat before it, staring into the orange flames. They made a handsome couple, in a dark glamor, gothic sort of way. The witch waved her hand and an Acolyte got up from a corner and soundlessly left the room, giving Snape a tight smile as she swept past him.

Long, raven-black hair framed the witch's cherubic features as she stood up and glared at Snape. At first glance she appeared beautiful, with an oval face and long straight hair. Perfectly symmetrical features and a shapely body that tapered to a slim waist. But her eyes were full of ardent fervor, a pure blood devotee. The fanatical zeal twisted her beauty into an ugly veneer and a shiver slid down Snape's back.

"Where have you been…Snake," growled Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Rodolphus – is this how you let your wife speak to a fellow believer?" Snape glanced at the curly dark-haired wizard still seated in his high-backed chair, but Rodolphus Lestrange pretended not to hear. It was well known who was the man in the Lestrange marriage.

"Answer me! Or answer to Him!"

"I've stated many times before, and will once again. Regulus is a mere child, a baby, and should barely be given consideration to joining the cause as an initiate Acolyte, let alone allowed to become a fully-fledged Death Eater. But naturally, because he's a Black, he gets special treatment and his shortcomings are overlooked."

"Is that so, Severus? And you know better than the Dark Lord I presume? Are you questioning His judgement?"

"Arguing with you every time we cross paths is getting tiresome, Bellatrix. The fight is out there, not with me. I've proven myself time and again for the cause."

"You're barely twenty yourself, no more than an overgrown boy. I've been with Him from the start. Do not lecture me…"

Snape raised his hand. "Bella, I was against the initiation and upset. I decided to skip the ceremony, but realized I was behaving like a petulant child and came back to pay my respects. If you want to disturb Him with the news of this amazing development, please, be my guest."

"Yes, only a few of us have the ability to summon Him. That power has not been granted to everyone, has is it Snake?" Bellatrix pretended to ponder her next move, but Snape knew she would not dare bother the Dark Lord over such a petty matter. "You can leave us now, but if you're whereabouts are unaccounted for again, He will be told!"

"Bellatrix, Rodolphus, enjoy your evening," Snape bowed facetiously as he moved towards the door. "My congratulations again to the illustrious Black family."

Snape exited the room and found Lucius waiting for him, a bored look on his chiseled face.

"So, what did the tempestuous devil want?"

"Chastised me for skipping the initiation. Never misses a chance to remind me of how young and useless I am."

"Don't you worry Severus, you're under my charge now. Ever since you came back that night, the Dark Lord has seemed…energized. It's been a flurry of activity since, He's had groups of us working at both ends off the candle, tracking down all sorts of things. Just the other day I captured a famous astrologist for him. Very pleased he was, very pleased. Tell me, what happened that night? What did you tell him?"

Snape headed towards the party, keeping his eyes on the stairs in front of him.

"Lucius, I will forever be in your debt for all you've done for me…but to betray the Dark Lord's confidence," Snape lowered his voice to a whisper. "I could tell you, but if he found out his anger would be terrible to behold – for the both of us."

"Yes, yes, of course. Was just testing you Severus," Lucius said as he patted Snape on the back. "Come now, let us join the festivities. Narcissa has quite a charming friend she can introduce you to - just try smiling for once."

Snape followed Lucius back into the raucous drawing room, his usual sullen look plastered on his face.

Navigating the politics and parties of high society was a talent a Malfoy must be born with, for I'd rather be locked away in a lab room. Lucius had always been arrogant, all the way back to when we were in school together; and even when he was condescending to others, they still strived to gain his approval, still yearned to be in his company. Even I find myself drawn to his charisma, it's no wonder he's one of the Dark Lord's favorites.

"Wait here Severus, let me find Narcissa and her friend…and Severus," Lucius gave an obsequious smile that reminded Snape of a long black eel he had once seen as a boy on a school trip to an aquarium, "You were quite right, never reveal to anyone what you told the Dark Lord that night…"