Chapter 13

A Friend Indeed

Wormtail scampered loudly up the stairs of the devastated house in Godric's Hollow, with a complete lack of remorse for the ruin his duplicity had wrought. As he reached the second-floor landing and approached the smoldering bedroom, he thought he saw the whirl of a cloak and the crack of an apparition – I must be seeing things, only dead bodies remained within this broken shell of a house. Wormtail knew he had to be quick, the damned aurors could arrive at any moment.

What could I really have done when the Dark Lord offered me a chance all those months ago? Fight the most powerful dark wizard of all time? Suffer unnecessary pain and death? Torture? And for what? The Order was fighting a losing battle and it was time for everyone to open their eyes. Would it be such a horrible outcome for Lord Voldemort to take over? Purebloods would reign supreme at the top of the food chain and muggles would be the ones relegated to the shadows, the fringes of society. The Order's end was coming as surely as the sun would rise in the morning – no point staying on a sinking ship if someone was going to toss me a life jacket.

Wormtail tried his best to ignore the red headed women lying on the floor as he began to leave small traces of evidence all around the room – when he was finished, no one would be able to deny that Sirius Black had been present in the bedroom that night. Just as he was leaving, Wormtail sucked in a shocked gasp. Lying there, right next to a burnt crib, was a wand – thirteen and one half inches long, made of yew, with a phoenix feather core. Wormtail recognized it at once, for he had seen it in action up close and in person. It had been an instrument of coercion, torture and even murder. He scooped it up at once, and took his leave from the haunted house.

Wormtail was a survivor.

Severus Snape hurried along the school corridor, trying to not make a sound. He was late for his secret meeting, but this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. Normally catching one of the gang of four all alone in a hallway would set off alarm bells in Severus' mind. The young Slytherin hated to admit it, but the Marauders were a wily bunch and smart enough to not prowl the castle alone. But the two pretty boys had detention with Slughorn and the quiet, gangly one was ill again. Something was off about Lupin and Severus made a mental note to further investigate these continued absences. But for now, Snape's attention was focused on the short, rotund Gryffindor up ahead of him who was happily bouncing along, lost in some silly daydream no doubt.

Severus figured this would be a great chance to practice his improved nonverbal casting abilities – he had been dutifully practicing each night as the constant harassment from the Gryffindors had continued unabated this school year. As Peter Pettigrew passed an empty classroom, Severus raised his wand in nervous excitement. He flicked it sharply three times, concentrating silently in his mind – "Muffliato!" – "Stupefy!" – "Levicorpus!"

The chubby Gryffindor froze in mid step with a quick cry of alarm, jerked up into the air as if an invisible hook had grabbed him and floated off into an empty classroom. If anyone had been around the corner they wouldn't have heard the startled cry, as their ears would've been filled with a light buzzing sound. Severus quickly closed the door to the classroom, waved his wand with a flourish and happily headed off. Anyone passing by the classroom on the fourth floor would probably not have gone in. A sign had just appeared over the door – "Do Not Enter: Charms Test in Progress."

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Lily asked the approaching Severus.

"Sometimes the gods smile upon you my lady," replied the gangly teen. He had pale skin, greasy hair, and a crooked nose. In stark contrast to the attractive red head who was sitting on a low stone wall, near the Hogwarts' gamekeeper's hut.

It was a beautiful sunny day and it seemed as though the sun was shining directly on Lily, Severus' own personal archangel.

"You keep getting stranger and stranger Sev," Lily said playfully. She pointed to the open textbook resting next to her, "I'm having trouble with the recipe for Amortentia."

"And why, may I ask, would you need to know how to make the world's strongest love potion?"

"Extra credit for Slughorn, obviously I don't need to use it!" Lily flicked her hair in mock arrogance and smiled at Severus.

No, you definitely don't need any potion to cast a spell on others thought Severus as he smiled back at her. He had always had a knack for brewing and Slughorn had finally come around to appreciating Severus' natural abilities, but the truth was he also worked diligently at potions to get top marks. And one of the main reasons he strived to excel at the subject was for moments like this – Severus was fiercely protective of maintaining his private meetings with Lily and helping her with homework was a great excuse for them to meet.

Severus always had a nagging worry in the back of his mind that as soon as Lily felt she didn't need him, she'd move on. He sometimes allowed intrusive, negative thoughts to infect his mind, believed that they had grown close as children not because they were natural friends, but because Severus had been able to introduce her to magic and was the only one she could talk to about it. He had been her personal tour guide, introducing her to a wonderful new world. Severus had been pleasantly surprised she had remained his friend since they began at Hogwarts, for she was a quick study and had already begun to teach him magical things he had never known about.

"Hello, Earth to Sev. What's the best way to crush a dragon berry? The recipe says you need to add the berry juice within seconds of releasing it from the pod, before the main potion turns blue, but I can never extract it fast enough."

"Sorry, I was…"

"You're always day dreaming these days. What's going on with you? Is there something you want to tell me?" Lily squared Severus' shoulders around, so they were looking eye to eye. Severus could see the moisture on her red lips, the little imperfections on her skin. Wow, her dark green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the sunlight. Should I just go for it? Maybe she would like it?

"Sev…do you have a crush on someone?"

"Wh - what? Why would you ask that?" Oh my God, I'm such an idiot. I'd been so obvious, staring at her like a lovesick puppy. She was so smart, of course she figured it out.

"You never seem present anymore…so, who is she?"

"You don't know?"

"Oh God, I hope it's not Laura McKinney. She's just awful!"

The nervous ball in Severus' stomach began to unfurl – she didn't know who his crush was. Friendship saved; awkward conversation avoided. Still, Severus kind of wished Lilly had realized how he felt about her.

"I wasn't dreaming of anyone. I was just thinking of how pleasant this moment is, sunny day, hanging out with my oldest friend."

"Aww, Sev. That's such a nice thing to say, you're a sweetheart."

"Yep – an arrogant Gryffindor begging a genius Slytherin for help. Just the way it should be!" Severus gave Lily a little shove and hopped up on the wall, brandishing his wand.

"You rascal!" Lily waved her wand at him as she dropped to the ground – a stream of warm water flew towards Severus.

As he tried to dodge the water, Severus stumbled on the wall and lost his footing. He swayed, staggered for a few steps, and then began to pitch over the wall. Time slowed down as he fell, the ground seemed to stretch away from him. Farther and farther he dropped, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the ground rushed up to meet him and he closed his eyes, bracing for impact…

…Snape slammed into the soggy ground, the brown grass was slick with rain and mud. He twisted his mouth away from the mud and gasped for air, greedily sucking it in. His body ached, he felt like as though he had been hit by a cement truck. Snape wiped the sloppy muck from his eyes and looked up at the shadow towering above him.

Albus Dumbledore wore a disgusted look of contempt his face.

This was not a sunny afternoon at Hogwarts when he was a young boy, his beautiful friend was nowhere to be found. This was certainly not Heaven, for such intense pain surely did not exist there. Snape looked around and realized he was in his miserable, dirty backyard. He would rather have been with the blind ferryman in Hades, anywhere but here, having to live with what he had done.

Snape stared at Dumbledore's muddy boots, for he could not bring himself to look up and meet the disappointed gaze boring down on him. He dropped his head, his face smacking back into the wet mud with loud squelch. He could still feel the noose around his neck, desperately yearning for it to magically come alive and finish its job.

A roaring fire blazed in Dumbledore's office, radiating blessed warmth…something was making a terrible sound, like a wounded animal.

Snape was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over him, looking grim. After a moment or two, Snape raised his face, and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.

"I thought . . . you were going . . . to keep her . . . safe. . . ."

"She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore. "Rather like you, Severus. Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

Snape's breathing was shallow.

"Her boy survives," said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

"Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

"DON'T!" bellowed Snape. "Gone . . . dead . . ."

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

"I wish . . . I wish I were dead. . . ."

"And what use would that be to anyone?" said Dumbledore coldly. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."

Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore's words appeared to take a long time to reach him.

"What — what do you mean?"

"You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."

"He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone —"

"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, "Very well. Very well. But never — never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear . . . especially Potter's son . . . I want your word!"

"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?"

Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face. "If you insist . . .then yes, I shall keep your secret. Always. But in return I want your word."

"For what?"

"Never again will you choose the coward's way out. Ever."

Dumbledore braced himself for a long argument, but Snape didn't utter one dissident syllable. Rather, he gave Dumbledore a curt nod.

"Very well then. Now, on to other matters."

"Wait – what happens to the boy? To Lily's son?"

"I'm taking care of that as we speak."

"And how was a child…able to defeat the greatest dark wizard in history?"

"All in due time, Severus, all your questions will be answered in due time. But right now, I've a pressing assignment for you."

Snape glanced to his left and caught his reflection in a glass cabinet. His robes were torn and tattered, hair matted with grime and dried blood, with plum-colored bruises lining his sunken cheeks.

"I'm in no shape to be your errand boy tonight."

"Yes, you've certainly looked better, but time is of the essence tonight. Now listen closely…" countered Dumbledore, quickly waving away Snape's concerns. Fawkes swooped off his perch and settled on Snape's shoulder. Thick, pearly tears began to slide out of the phoenix's eyes and down its beak, plopping down onto the battered young man. It felt like a warm towel was gently washing him, lifting the veneer of pain that Snape had been feeling for well over a week. A tear fell onto his cracked lips and into his mouth, sliding down his throat and warming him deep down in his belly, heating his core. It tasted, not salty, but sweet, like honey water. As the pain abated, Snape could finally focus on Dumbledore's words.

"…I don't know when, I'm not quite sure how, but the Dark Lord will rise again. We must prepare for that day."

"Not even a moment's peace to mourn?" Snape took a deep breathe, "Fine then. What is that you want from me?"

"Well, now that Voldemort has fallen, you and your brethren will be ruthlessly hunted down. Azkaban or death is what the Ministry has been spouting to its Aurors, like a battle cry."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a fact. Do I have your undivided attention now? Or do you need a few more moments of self-pity?"

Snape sat in mutinous silence; arms crossed like a petulant child.

Dumbledore had always found that convincing someone it was in their best interest or that it was their deepest desire to follow his wishes was a much more effective method of motivation than coercion or the threat of force.

"Did you really love her Severus?"

Snape closed his eyes, willing himself to not rise to the bait.

"If you truly did, I imagine you'd want to help me track down the man who betrayed her to the Dark Lord, rather than lay down for a rest."

Snape shot up to his feet, causing Fawkes to fly off in startled protest.

"Who was it?"

"I need you to promise…"

"Who was it?!"

"…that you will bring him to me…"

"Who was it?!"

"…alive."

Snape forcefully pushed his way was through the bustling rush hour crowd in Harold Square. Stupid muggles, oblivious to the dangers all around them. Did they even realize what terrible fate had almost befallen them? Some of these fools deserved to suffer subjugation! No, no, no – how could I still think like this? The Dark Lord's vision would have led to suffering for all, a dark future no one wanted.

Snape took a deep breath and his pent up rage floated up from the maddening crowd and settled down on Sirius Black – Sirius the Sneak. The Gryffindor alum had betrayed the Potters, sold them straight down the river to the Dark Lord. That arrogant, brash traitor! He'd grown from a conceited schoolyard bully to a devious turncoat and killer. Snape had always seen through the false bravado, had known Sirius was rotten to the core – in fact, he had known deep down in his bones, even before Dumbledore had uttered the name, that Sirius was to blame for this unspeakable tragedy. Who else would the Potter's have chosen to safeguard their secret location.

Snape had promised Dumbledore he would drag the scum back to Hogwarts alive, but then again, who knows what might happen in the heat of battle? Dumbledore wanted the reasons for Sirius' betrayal, wanted to hear the filth's side of the story. What was there to learn? Who cares if he betrayed them for money, power, or to save his own worthless skin. Snape knew that if he got the chance, Sirius would never live to see Dumbledore, or anyone else, ever again.

Through the crush of the crowd Snape glimpsed familiar gleaming black hair, flowing behind a tall barrel chested man. Snape clutched his wand tightly in his pocket, knuckles whitening, and muttered something under his breath. The muggles in front of him were gently pushed to the side, as if there had been a sudden gust of a gentle wind – a clear pathway now in front of Snape. He hurried along, silently repeating the killing curse incantation over and over in his head.

Snape raised his wand, drawing strange looks from the muggles walking alongside him. Damn! Sirius darted down a narrow side street, as if he sensed the danger about to erupt behind him. Snape ran over to the alleyway entrance and slowly peered around the corner.

There were several muggles scattered around the entrance to a pub, with a few more walking up and down the alley. Sirius was in animated discussion with someone in a grey, hooded robe. Snape stepped into the street and let angry hate flow through his body - it was easy for him to be consumed by the rage and fill himself with the power needed to unleash an unforgivable curse. He closed his eyes and strode into his memory house, slowly walking through the Hogwarts' rooms. He had so many wretched memories from which to draw upon, so much hatred roiling within him. Snape knew he had the mettle to do what had to be done, for he had taken a life once before.

When casting an unforgivable, like the killing curse, one had to truly believe and deeply mean it, the wizard had to categorically want to cause death. Dark magic did not suffer fools, the timid and weak willed had no place in the dark arts. Snape's eyes glowed scarlet as terrible purpose coursed through his veins. Dumbledore's wishes be damned, he was going to send Sirius to the blind ferryman, give him a one way ticket to the deepest circle of hell, where all traitors and mutineers were destined to reside for all eternity. Lily's crumpled body flashed in his mind and Snape raised his wand with swift malevolence.

But just before Snape could unleash his killing curse incantation from his lips, Sirius let out a loud scream and brandished his wand with unforeseen speed. He pointed it at the short man in front of him, drawing the attention of everyone in the alleyway.

Sirius Black had caught up to the snitch Peter Pettigrew and revenge would now be his. For James, for Lily, for little Harry! But there was no happiness in Sirius, no swell of righteous justice, just a feeling of duty. His best friends in the world were dead, their son now an orphan, and all because of his ill-conceived gambit. The most blame lay at his feet and his feet alone, but Peter had to answer for his part in the murders as well.

At the eleventh hour, for reasons he could neither remember nor comprehend anymore, Sirius had persuaded James to make Peter their Secret Keeper instead of himself. Had he been too scared to carry the heavy burden? No, Sirius knew he loved James and Lily, he wasn't afraid of anything. At the time, it had seemed like a brilliant piece of subterfuge, a stroke of deceptive genius! Everyone would naturally believe Sirius carried the precious secret, the location to the boy who spelled doom for the Dark Lord. The secret for which Lord Voldemort would no doubt search far and wide for. Sirius would go on the run, lead the Death Eaters on a wild goose chase around the world. Even if they somehow caught up to Sirius, no amount of magic or torture would reveal the secret, for he was the not the Keeper! No one in the world would ever suspect they had entrusted the secret location to little old Peter Pettigrew.

How had the Dark Lord gotten the fat rat to squeal so quickly?

It was of no matter, the die had been cast. The Potters were dead and soon Pettigrew would be too. Once this deed was done, Sirius would be dead too, for all intents and purposes. He cared not for his future, all that mattered was avenging his best friend in the whole world…

"Goodbye Wormtail," Sirius hissed. "I curse the day the Sorting Hat called out Gryffindor while perched atop your fat ugly head."

Peter Pettigrew winced in pain, but not at the slight from one of his best friends. He had just severed his right index finger and tossed it behind him. A group if muggles watching the argument turned away in fright and disgust, not quite understanding the odd scene.

"STOP! Sirius Black! STOP!" Peter yelled loudly.

His shrill yell startled Sirius, who hesitated for a moment.

"You betrayed them Sirius Black! You betrayed the Potters! You killed them, Sirius Black!"

The crowd was now slowly dispersing, sensing the danger that hung heavy in the air.

"What are you shouting for, Peter? These muggles know nothing."

"Sirius Black! Sirius Black! You betrayed the Potters!"

"Enough of this, Wormtail. It's time for you to visit the devil, I'm sending you straight to hell."

Peter licked his lips in fear and slowly began to back away, his hands still behind his back. His right hand was a small ball of blood, as if he had just crushed a tomato in his palm. His left hand gripped his wand tightly – it was pointed at a spot on the ground several feet away.

As Sirius raised his wand, only two words were flowing through his mind – Avada Kedavra. Snape had identical words floating in his mind as he ran down the alleyway, his wand outstretched in front of him. But before either of the two wizards could kill their intended targets, a violent explosion rippled through the air.

Sirius felt a sudden burst of heat flash over him as he was lifted off the ground slammed into a nearby wall. The back of his head split open like busted seams on an old coat and he fell limply to the ground, blood pooling around him. Severus flew backward, as if an invisible giant hook had gripped him about the waist and yanked. He hit the ground hard and skidded along the pavement, his face shredded by smoldering gravel. He blacked out instantly from the pain, his breathing slow and haggard.

Other bystanders were not so lucky. Twelve innocent people died that day – school teachers, lawyers, sons, daughters, even children. The headline in the London Times the next day would read: "IRA Strikes in the Heart of London!"

Among the smoldering debris, the congealing blood and horrified screaming, was a small, rather shabby looking rat. The blast seemed to have mangled one of its toes, but it otherwise appeared unharmed. It scurried away, winding its way along an improvised escape route, over and around fallen bodies. It stopped at a sewer grate for a moment, looked back upon the devastation in the alleyway, and then it was gone.

Wormtail was a survivor.