Chapter 12

All Hallows' Eve

The Scottish Highlands were notorious for their thunderous rainstorms and tonight was no exception. Rain pelted down in a slow and steady pattern – a watery metronome keeping time for the angry heavens. The Walpurgis Castle loomed large like a dark menace, lighting up ominously every time lightening flashed across the wet sky.

The Lair had been abuzz with excitement ever since the great town square battle; the "rumble in the jungle" was all the Daily Prophet had been reporting about. Whispers traveled quickly along the Lair's long dark corridors – Dumbledore had fled in fear, his tail tucked between his legs, had begged the Dark Lord for mercy! He was no match for the Death Eater legion! The Order was scared and had scattered into hiding like cockroaches!

High up in the west tower of the castle was a small room, immaculately clean and spartanly furnished. A metal trunk lay open in one corner, overflowing with worn spell books and potion recipes. There was a solitary chair and table across from the chest, and up against the far end of the room was a small cot. Above the cot, roughly cut into the stone wall, stood a small window – rain drummed rhythmically against blue paned glass. A flash of lightening streaked across the sky, white light piercing the darkness of the room.

Severus Snape turned his bruised head away from the light, pain shooting up and down his right side from that slight turn. Even the smallest movement triggered aching spasms throughout his body. He blindly reached down from the cot and found a thick cloth resting in a bowl of ice water. He pressed the wet cool cloth to his sweating forehead and then to the back of his neck, the frigid water numbing his skin and alleviating his discomfort for a precious few seconds.

He had been laying in this small cot, barely eating or moving, for almost a week. Lord Voldemort had been angry Dumbledore had slipped through his grasp, very angry indeed, and had lashed out at the closing person in the vicinity – wrong place at the wrong time. Story of my life, Snape thought miserably.

He dropped the cloth back in the bowl, water tinged with blood slopping out of it onto the cold stone floor. His whole body was sore, a tired all-encompassing ache; he suffered mind splitting headaches each night and his back looked as though he had been flogged in a public square for hours. Snape had renewed respect and a now ingrained fear of the cruciatus curse. There clearly was a reason its use earned wizards a one-way ticket to Azkaban.

Snape's hand reached for the chain lying across his chest – pure silver intertwined with fire ruby strands. Whenever he was in discomfort or emotional distress he would unconsciously reach for it and think of her, soak up courage from Lily's memories. Even though it had been months, years now, since they had last spoken, since he had last seen her beauty in the flesh, he still gained strength from the memories of their time together. She knew things about him that no one else knew, things he had kept hidden from Dumbledore, from even the Dark Lord himself. She had been loyal, kept his shameful secret hidden even after he had insulted and embarrassed her. She had cared for him selflessly and without abandon as they had grown up together. Snape had never been able to comprehend what she gained from their friendship – he asked her, on countless occasions, why are you my friend? She would just laugh and go back to whatever she had been talking about.

"Ahhhhh!" Snape dropped the chain from his hand, as it had suddenly glowed fire red and burned white hot. What the hell was that? Whenever Dumbledore summoned him, the necklace turned ice cold against his chest and his touch brought a vision to his mind of whatever Dumbledore's message was.

Snape unhooked the clasps and held the chain up to his eyes. He glanced impatiently at the window, waiting for a lightening flash to spike across the sky. After a few moments whitening streaked by and illuminated the room. What? It didn't make any sense. Where had the ruby strands disappeared to? Snape shook his head, willing the pain to abate so he could think clearly.

Snape reached to his side, grabbed his wand, and whispered, "Lumos".

The tip of his wand shone brightly, confirming his worst fears. The chain was now pure silver, barren of any trace of the red rubies. That idiot Dumbledore had ruined his most precious gift! Lily's ruby strands were gone. Maybe it wasn't Dumbledore. Maybe she finally had gotten wise, maybe her love and care for him had completely vanished…maybe she had finally forgotten all about him.

The thought sliced through Snape's beating heart like a burning blade. The physical pain he had been battling faded away, nothing compared to the heart wrenching agony he now felt in the pit of his gut. Had she really forgotten him completely?

Snape felt like he was losing Lily all over again – begging to see her, being rebuffed, seeing the hurt in her face, green ovals filled with disappointed tears. Snape pushed his face into his pillow, the hot tears flowing freely. They felt warm and sticky as they sluiced down his face and soaked his blood-stained pillow. Time passed slowly as he wept in his cramped room, the thunder drowning out his sobs.

A hurried knock sounded at the door roused him back to the present. How long had it been? Snape ignored the incessant knocking, couldn't stem the tide of tears and didn't want anyone to see him like this. He wanted to be alone. Forever. He was never leaving this room.

The knocking persisted, increasing in urgency.

"Go away, I want to be left alone!"

"Severus! Get up! Something's happened!" came a panicked voice. It sounded like Karkaroff. "Open up now!"

"I'm not feeling well, leave me be you fool!"

"Alohomora!"

Snape heard the deadbolt magically slide across the lock. The door was quickly pushed in and a nervous Death Eater entered. Snape pressed his pillow over his face, still quietly weeping.

"Severus! You've been summoned. Quickly now, let us be off."

"Tell the Dark Lord I'm still too injured from my last meeting with him. I can barely move!"

Karkaroff ripped the pillow off Snape's face and stared into the angry, wet face.

"Severus, something terrible has happened. The Dark Lord…he…he's been missing!"

Snape rolled to his side, ignoring the stabbing pains screaming from his body. He wiped away the last vestiges of Lily's tears, forgetting his self-pity for the moment.

"The fact that the Dark Lord does not tell you his every move is hardly news."

"We've gotten reports that something…"

"Damnit Igor, speak plainly! Or get the hell out of my room!"

"Bellatrix and Lucius came to the castle several hours ago, very excited and pleased with themselves. They demanded an immediate audience with the Dark Lord and soon after He left the castle. He was eager, excited even."

"Where did He go?! Stop speaking in circles!"

Karkaroff took a deep breath. "People said He had found the child. The young boy, the one the prophecy spoke of."

Snape felt all the air rush out of his lungs. He never heard Karkaroff's next words, his mind was spinning and he could not focus. Lily?! Oh, dear God. Snape edged to the side of the cot and tried to stand, but immediately fell to his knee as the room spun violently

"Severus! Are you alright?" Karkaroff leaned down to help Snape to his feet.

"I think…I think I need to lie down for just a moment."

"No! You must come with me. This instant."

"I'm in no condition to see Him. I don't care how angry He is!" Snape began to think of a way to escape the lair – I must speak to Dumbledore at once!

"Severus, He's not summoning you! Bellatrix is!"

"Bellatrix?! She doesn't command me! Leave Igor! Now! I need time to think!"

"You don't understand Severus!" Karkaroff grabbed his Snape by the collar, wild terror floating in his dark eyes.

Snape saw panic and absolute fear staring back at him, the stench of desperation dripped from Karkaroff.

"The Dark Lord has fallen!"

Snape stumbled through the bustling halls of the dark castle, people scurrying all around him. The air was not full of the excited energy it had been over the last few days, rather, there was panic in everyone's step. No one seemed to know what was going on or what to do next.

Snape fought down the acidic bile rising in his throat and kept pushing his way forward through his panicked brethren – finally he spied his target. As a beautiful young Acolyte quickly strode by him, he balled his left hand into a fist and swung it as hard as he could into her stomach. As her breath left her and she keeled over in pain, Snape grabbed her arm and swung her into an empty room, slamming the door shut.

She was thrown to the ground, sliding to a stop against a stone wall. As she struggled to regain her wits, she gave Snape a mutinous glare, venom in her look.

"What's the meaning of this? How dare you attack me? Severus the snake!"

"Is that how an Acolyte speaks to a Death Eater these days? The rules no longer apply because the Dark Lord is gone?"

Snape advanced on her menacingly and she shrunk back in fear, her indignation started to give way to alarm. But he coughed up a bit of blood and stumbled, falling again to a knee. Adrenaline flowed through him, but he was in no condition to be up and about, much less hold an exhaustive interrogation. The Acolyte scrambled to her feet, confidence slowly returning to her.

"Pathetic man. Step aside and maybe I won't report this despicable attack."

"Annabelle shut your mouth, I've no time for your insolence."

"If you don't step aside, I'll tell Lucius – I swear to God I will. He'll be furious!"

"Yes, I think you're quite right."

Snape slumped to the ground from bended knee, lying prone on the ground – the pain had become unbearable. Annabelle stepped over him and strode towards the door.

"That's what I thought snake. I'm not for the likes of you."

"With you."

"What?"

"Lucius will be furious…with you. I also wonder how mad Narcissa will be?"

"Narcissa?"

"I'll make sure she's nearby when I complain to Lucius that his play toy refused to help me, that his arrogant mistress has become too big for her britches."

Snape could barely see clearly; his head was spinning like a top. Blood began to seep again from the slashes on his back, dark magic never healed properly. He gently rolled to his side to ease the pressure on his back, scrunching his eyes. "I just hope for your sake she doesn't go crying to her sister. Bellatrix can be rather…unforgiving to those who have wronged her family."

Snape waited a few moments, and then a thankful sigh escaped his lips – the door never opened and closed.

"What is it that you want from me?"

Snape was breathing heavily, but didn't reply.

"I know how you look at me Severus. But I won't touch you, ever. Rumor has it that women aren't your cup of tea anyway."

"Keep quiet for once in your life you ignorant fool, close that goddamned mouth of yours and listen. I must know where it was the Dark Lord went tonight. I must know this instant; time is of the essence."

"I've no idea! You think I'm part of his inner circle?! He's never so much as glanced in my direction. Lucius has told me many times that the Dark Lord has no interest in…earthly pleasures."

"Lucius tells you much – in my opinion, far too much." Snape leaned on his elbow and looked directly at Annabelle. Porcelain skin, strong cheekbones, beautiful long blonde hair. Even in his panicked and broken-down state, Snape could feel a stirring within him, the woman was gorgeous – Lucius certainly had a type. To be honest, she was every man's type. And Snape knew Lucius told this enchanting creature all manner of dark secrets to impress her. "Tell me where the Dark Lord went tonight Annabelle."

"I do not KNOW!"

Snape struggled to his feet.

"Tell me now or I swear to God I will make it my life's mission to ruin your life. I will haunt your every step, never give you a moment's peace. I've nothing and no one, you can't hurt me the way I can hurt you. Look at me, look into my eyes you bitch! Tell me I'm lying, tell me! I promise you; I'll make your life a living hell from this moment forth."

"He told me not to tell a soul! The Dark Lord will kill us both if I spoke out of turn…Lucius hasn't even told his own wife."

"Do you really believe I give enough of a damn about you to mention your name to anyone? I just need to know where He went tonight…please Annabelle, it's of paramount importance. Do you truly care for our cause? If you tell me right this instant, I just might be able to help the Dark Lord."

Annabelle started hard at the scraggly Death Eater. He looked so frail right now – a strong gust could tip him over. She imagined she might even be able to kill him in this weakened state. Snape let out a raspy cough, mucus and blood splattered on the cold stone floor. Lucius would be furious with her. Should she give him a fake location? No, she'd heard stories about this young Death Eater, from Lucius himself. Motivated, intelligent, not to be trusted. He truly could make her life miserable.

"I don't know the name; I've never been there."

"Where?"

"The birthplace of Godric Gryffindor."

Snape hurried along a dark road, his traveling cloak wrapped tightly around his wiry frame. He had raided the potions storeroom of the Lair for some gilded root and then used one of the Lair's many portkeys to travel to the town of Hampton. Hampton was only a few miles south of Godric's Hollow, but Snape had to walk it – he could not risk apparating in his weakened state. Thank God the portkey had been set for Hampton, any farther away and he could never have reached the Hollow.

Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out the gilded root. It was the prized root of the rare Gilly Flower, a leafy plant found in the mountains of Northern India. Sucking on the root tasted something awful, but it would help dull the pain still reverberating throughout his body. Of course Snape knew how to create much more effective healing draughts, but could not spare the precious hours it would have taken to brew.

Snape kept to a darkened field that ran alongside the long road to Godric's Hollow, for he was in no shape to fight off anyone who may be curious as to why a solitary man was walking alone in the dead of night. He could see, far off in the distance, dark smoke swirling to the heavens. A large fire must be roaring, smoldering something into ruin – Snape quickened his pace. How had the Dark Lord been able to penetrate the Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm? What had Bellatrix and Lucius told Him? What had happened here tonight?

I can't remember feeling this excited, my nerves are tingling with anticipation for I'd forgotten the pleasure of an unexpected present. Finally, after all my hard work and planning, thank the heavens! I'm going to achieve it, that which is rightfully mine – true invincibility! I will soon be unstoppable, nothing and no one will ever again stand in my way. After tonight the wizarding world, the muggle world, the entire world, shall tremble at my feet. I knew I was born for something great, I knew I was destined to change the course of history, I knew it…

. . . And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know it yet. . . . And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it. . . .They had not drawn the curtains; he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pajamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist. . . . A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning. . . . The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear.

His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open. He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand. . . ."Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Hold him off, without a wand in his hand! . . . He laughed before casting the curse. . . . "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut. . . . He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear. . . . He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in. . . . She had no wand upon her either. . . . How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments. . . . He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand . . . and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead. . . . "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside, now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —"

"This is my last warning —"

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . . Not Harry!

Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"

He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all. . . . The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time: He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing — He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage —

"Avada Kedavra!"

And then he broke: He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away . . .far away. . .

Once again, Dumbledore felt the need to give a silent thank you to the founders of Hogwarts for having the skill and foresight to provide him the opportunity to converse with the previous headmasters and headmistresses of the school – the self-portraits were capable of interacting with the living world and were painted during the life of the subject. The headmaster or headmistress would then teach their portrait to act and behave like themselves, and imbue them with new memories if need be. Combined, there was over one thousand years' worth of magical life experience contained within the current headmaster's office.

"Good point Everard, but no need to worry – I've taken precautions with regards to the Potter family," said Dumbledore to the portrait of a tall, grey bearded man. "Now tell me again, how could a wizard split his soul?"

"Dumbledore your fascination with this dark spell has gone on long enough," answered the portrait of a plump wizard in luscious plum-colored robes.

"Yes headmaster, you're becoming quite obsessed with the topic. No one that young could've known such dark magic. It's the Potter boy and the child's well-being you need to focus on," chimed in the portrait of a raven haired, regal looking witch.

"Dilys please, I've done all I can for the Potters – the Fidelius Charm was cast over a week ago. I strongly pushed to be Secret Keeper, but they declined. James decided to put his trust in his best friend, who I'm quite certain would die before giving up their location," said Dumbledore as he walked over to Fawkes. "They're perfectly safe."

The devoted phoenix was perched on a redwood branch, chewing quietly on a herring bone. He was a magnificent and powerful magical creature – strong golden feathers lined his wings, with dark crimson plumage covering the rest of his body.

"Besides, Fawkes will alert us immediately if the family is in any danger," Dumbledore said as he stroked the bird's neck. A relaxing quiver ran across its body and it crooned softly in response. Dumbledore turned back to the portraits. "Now then, we all heard what that house-elf had to say."

"Albus, it was just a confused house-elf," said Everard. "The poor creature wasn't in its right mind!"

"We don't really know its genuine motivations, the whole performance could've been a red herring – a dangerous trick to draw you out!" agreed Dilys.

Dumbledore turned to address the picture of tall, dark-haired man dressed in splendid green robes, the crest of a snake across his breast.

"Phineas? Oh, come off it Phineas, we all know you're awake. What do you think? Could the Dark Lord have discovered this ancient dark magic?"

Phineas Nigellus Black slowly opened his eyes, preparing to fire off a smug remark before giving his actual opinion. Instead, his eyes went wide in alarm and he pointed to something in the corner of the office. Dumbledore whipped around, an alarmed look slowly spreading across his face.

"Oh dear God," he said quietly.

Fawkes was still sitting quietly on his redwood perch, but the magnificent creature was no longer enjoying his post dinner snack. The bird was quietly crying, large pearl shaped tears slipping down its beak and splashing to the ground. And the phoenix's body was no longer covered in splendid gold and red feathers – Fawkes had turned a vivid pulsing blue.

Snape quietly edged his way through Godric's Hollow, slipping by unseen in the nighttime shadows. A few brave souls had come out of their homes to take a look at a destroyed, still burning house, but most had stayed ensconced within the safety of their homes – in these dangerous times, too much curiosity could get one killed. A small trail of blood marked Snape's passage through the town, the walk here had taken all the energy he had left. Finally. the Potter house arose into sight – a smoldering ruin. Part of the roof had been blown apart, leaving a gaping hole – dark grey smoke lazily wafted up from the wreckage, making silent vigil up the heavens.

The house looked as though a tornado had touched down upon it, devastating its innards and ripping apart its guts. Snape's heart caught in his throat, sticky vomit threatened to make an appearance. His breathing became fast and haggard – no one could have survived such an explosion. But there was no Dark Mark floating ominously above the house! Maybe she had survived…

Snape stepped out from a large hedge and into an empty street. He took a deep breath and he steeled himself, preparing to dash across the lane and inspect the wreckage of the Potter's destroyed home, when a low rumbling froze him in his tracks. The sound came from the sky, getting closer by the second. As the rumbling swelled to a loud roar, Snape looked up and saw a huge motor cycle falling down from the sky. Snape shook off his shock and quickly melted back into the shadows.

The motor cycle careened dangerously towards the ground, at breakneck speed, showing no signs of slowing as the ground rushed up to meet it. Just as it appeared as though a deadly crash were inevitable, the bike impossibly came to an abrupt halt, gently touching down on the street. Snape's mouth went agape, as Sirius Black stepped off the motorcycle with a maniacal look dancing in his eyes, long black hair flowing angrily behind him. Sirius looked around and settled his gaze on the hedge Snape was peering out from. Oh God, if Sirius finds me in this weakened state I'm a dead man walking. Snape slunk further down into the shadows, willing Sirius to look away.

A large sound echoed out from the ruined house, drawing both Sirius' and Snape's attention. A large bear of a man lumbered out of the ruined house, something small cradled in his hairy arms. Sirius quickly moved away from the bike and approached the half giant, while Snape watched the curious pair from afar, desperately straining to hear the conversation. Should I move closer, risk capture?

Rubeus Hagrid was holding a small child in the crook of his massive left arm, while his right hand was slowly turning into a balled fist. Dumbledore's orders had been explicit – remove the child from the home immediately, take him to a safe place and await further summons. Do not stop for anything. Do not let the child out of your sight for even a moment. And beware of anyone you cross, especially anyone who claims to be a friend of the Potters. Someone very close to the family had betrayed them and no one except Dumbledore could be trusted tonight.

"Step aside Sirius. I've got ter be movin' along, you see. No delays."

"Hagrid?! Oh thank the heavens, little Harry survived! What about James? Lily?"

Hagrid shook his head as if in great agony, a pained look splashed across his bearded face. "The child was the only one movin' inside."

Sirius started towards the ruined house, "This is all my fault, all my fault…"

Hagrid began to edge away from the despondent man, his right hand ready to strike just in case.

"How did the baby survive Hagrid?"

"I've no idea…I'll be seein' ya Sirius."

"What?! Where are you taking him? I've got a right to know Hagrid! I'm the only family Harry has left!"

Hagrid's eyes flicked towards the wand sticking out of Sirius' belt. He unclenched his fist and slowly moved it behind him, fingering the handle of an umbrella strapped to his back. The umbrella secretly contained pieces of his original wand – a wand that had been broken by the Ministry of Magic when Hagrid had been expelled from Hogwarts as a student many years ago. The umbrella wasn't as powerful an instrument as the original wand had been, but Hagrid was still able to create rudimentary magic through it.

"I ain't supposed ter tell a soul. Dumbledore's orders, ya hear?"

"I'm that child's godfather, the only family he has now." Sirius' wand appeared in his hand so fast Hagrid had no time to react. Sirius pointed the wand threateningly towards the Hagrid, who quickly turned his body to shield little Harry.

"Yer magic won't do nutin to me Sirius, bounce off me like little raindrops, although ya might hurt the boy. But you wouldn't care about him none, would ya? Ya thieving scoundrel!"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean? I'm all Harry has left!"

"I overheard Dumbledore tonight – you was their Keeper!" roared Hagrid as he pulled out his umbrella and aimed it at Sirius. "Get outta my way or I'll mow ya down right where ya stand!"

Hagrid's body tensed for a fight, but an attack spell never came. Instead, Sirius lowered his wand and stuck it back in his belt. He turned away from Hagrid and looked longingly back at the house. Only three other people in the whole world truly knew who the real Secret Keeper to the Potters had been – two lay dead in the smoking home in front of him and the third had probably been killed too. I must check on Peter at once! Oh God, why did I go and change the plan at the last second? What a fool I've been.

Sirius couldn't bear to look at the house anymore and turned to Hagrid, who had hate and mistrust written all over his face. No one will ever believe me. I'll be forever known as a coward and turncoat, even amongst my dearest friends. But I swear to you, James and Lily, here and now, I swear that before I give my last breath, I will avenge what happened here tonight. I swear it.

"You're right Hagrid, I destroyed James and Lily, failed them thoroughly. Go now – take Harry and watch over him. He's safer under Dumbledore's protection than anyone else's."

Hagrid stood rooted to the spot, confused by the about face in attitude. Was this some sort of trick? He glanced around warily, expecting the worst.

"Go now Hagrid, you fool! Soon this place will be crawling with people!"

Hagrid cautiously backed away from Sirius, still not fully trusting the wizard.

"And Hagrid, take my bike. It's powerful and fast, large enough to carry you comfortably. I won't be needing it anymore."

With a whirl of his cloak and a familiar Crack! Sirius was gone.

Hagrid rushed over to the still idling motorcycle, wasting no time. He waved his umbrella over the enchanted vehicle, sensed no dark magic; he gunned the throttle, the engine roared in excitement and in an instant the half-giant and baby were swallowed by the night sky.

Snape stood still, immersed and ensconced in dark shadows – he hadn't ventured out from his hiding spot during the heated discussion across the street. He had not been able to hear what had been said, but from afar it had been a strange sight indeed – it appeared as though the two Order members were one the verge of dueling. Loyalties were already being fractured among Dumbledore's stooges.

Well, it was now or never. Snape pushed through the hedge and quickly crossed the street. Past the creaking gate, through the front door and into a wrecked sitting room.

There was James Potter's lifeless body, a rag doll lying by the steps to the second floor. Snape approached gingerly, carefully stepping over the man who had helped make his teenage years a living hell. Snape was surprised to find he felt nothing as he passed the body. No hate, no satisfaction, no sympathy. James Potter invoked much less feeling to Snape in death than he did in life.

Snape's insides churned violently as he climbed the stairs, a fierce tempest raging deep within him. He felt the anxious, nauseating feeling one experiences when they know they are likely to hear bad news. He stepped onto the second-floor landing, his eyes glued to the ground, afraid of what he might see if he raised them.

Snape took a long deep breath, braced himself and forced his eyes to peer down the hallway.

Through the watery haze of tears, through a violently spinning corridor – he saw her. His beautiful Lily flower lay on the floor, cold and wilted. The beautiful ruby red hair fanned out around her head, like a rosy halo. The edges of his vision began to close in and threatened to consume him completely, but he pushed forward down the burnt hallway. He made it through and stepped into the destroyed bedroom. Half a wall and the ceiling were blown apart, a cold wind whistling unchallenged though the room. Lily on her back, all alone – a sleeping beauty.

Snape wanted to touch her soft skin, hold her like he had when they were kids, kiss her like he had in his dreams, stroke her hair one final time. There are some people you meet in life that matter more than the rest, touch you deeper than even your own family, measure higher and more important than anything else. Snape looked down at his broken dreams, knowing that now he could never ever rectify the mistakes of his past.

But he couldn't bring himself to touch her. It felt like a violation, defilement, an unwelcomed intrusion on a private sleep. He settled for slinking away into a dark corner of the room, slumping to the ground to keep a watchful vigil over her. After a few minutes – or was it an eternity? – Snape crawled over to Lily's lifeless body. Hot sticky tears slide down his crooked nose and fell all around her. They were filled with desolation, shame, and deep regret. True penance.

"I'm so sorry Lily. I never met for this, for any of this. I was lost and alone – I wanted to be welcomed and accepted by someone, anyone, I didn't care who it was, just wanted to be part of something bigger and better than me and my pathetic life."

Snape tentatively held her pale, lifeless hand – it was ice cold, just like the necklace around his neck. This is how he had repaid his best friend in the whole world? This was Lily's reward for loving him and looking after him when they were younger? Sow and so shall you reap. Severus Snape had lived a wicked life, turned down a dark road in misguided anger and his only true fried had paid the ultimate price.

Snape released Lily's hand and laid down beside her – a grotesque reimagining of his wildest desire. He had dreamt of lying next to his Lily in a comfortable bedroom, hear her gently breathing next to him, all his in the dark. Now he settled for lying on a scorched floor next to a lifeless body. Snape knew it was time to go, he had gotten to see her one last time, it was time to take his leave…he could mourn her later from a safe place – mourn her for the rest of my pathetic, worthless, miserable life…

…hurried footsteps sounded from below – the aurors had come, charging up the stairs. He took one last look at the only person who had ever loved him unconditionally, steeled himself, and then spun on the spot. Crack!

Snape landed on his back with a resounding thud in his dirty back yard in Spinner's End. His body broken and twisted from the punishment of an angry Dark Lord, his mind numb from months of double dealings and subterfuge, his soul destroyed by the loss of his one and only love. There was no lying to himself anymore – he had tried to bury his feelings and lock his love away in a tiny box and throw away the key – he could not pretend that he had ever stopped caring; the truth was he had never moved on from that first day he spied her on that dingy playground. It had been love at first sight for Severus Snape. It wasn't Lily's looks that had drawn him to her like a black moth to a bright red flame, although she truly had been beautiful; it had been her warm and empathetic soul that had captured his heart.

And I'd caused her death, I had brought the devil to her doorstep! Oh God what've I done? The Dark Lord had promised to spare her…what a fool I am! How could I have believed that twisted megalomaniac?! Even the great Dumbledore had failed me completely. I never could count on anyone but myself.

No matter how desperately he wanted to switch places with her, Snape could not offer his life in exchange for Lily's. But I can do the next best thing. I will show the world how truly sorry I am. My father was right all along, I'm a quitter. Snape decided to take the coward's way out.

He weakly brandished his wand towards a discarded rake lying in the muddy yard. The common garden tool transfigured into a long thick black rope and slithered its way up a gnarled tree trunk and around a sturdy limb hanging above Snape. The rope snaked itself tight around the limb until only a small swinging piece remained, swaying gently just above over his head. Snape flicked his wand to the sky and the rope curled in on itself and formed a tight noose; he stood on his toes and slipped it over his head as one would a scarf on a windy day. The noose felt good around neck, like it had always belonged on him - signified blessed relief to his wrecked body and tortured soul. It was the reward he richly deserved.

Snape raised his wand for the last time, pointing it at the rope circled around the tree trunk. With the final iota of energy he had left, Snape flicked his wrist. The rope slowly began constricting in on itself, a python deliberately wrapping itself around a tasty meal.

The noose squeezed around his pale neck, cutting into his skin, and slowly began lifting him higher and higher, inch by inch. Snape toes soon left the ground, his hands resolutely staying at his sides. His wand slipped through his fingers as he felt the breath slowly depart his body. His arms and hands never moved, he never struggled to shake loose from the rope – why fight? I deserve to die.

Snape final thoughts flickered between stolen moments he had spent with Lily as a child and terrifying visions of what awaited wicked men like him in the afterlife. His toes now a foot off the ground, the noose so tight around his neck it felt like part of his skin.

His lungs burned for oxygen, numbness tingling throughout his body. Snape had nothing left in him to even struggle against the rope, he welcomed hell. His body started convulsing violently as his body demanded he fight for air.

Just as Snape passed out, just as the dark edges of his cloudy vision closed in on him, he thought he saw a figure appear before him. Lily? Dumbledore? The Dark Lord?

No, it was the Devil, who had come up to Earth to personally welcome another tormented soul down to his dark providence.