1) Narration in any scenes which overlap with canon may vary from the narration in the DH book, despite having the same dialogue. This story does rely more heavily on the books as far as canon, and so the scene of Ron and Hermione kissing in the Chamber of Secrets doesn't happen here, and scene when their kiss 'would' happen in the books really wasn't in the film, anyway, and . . . eh, you'll see when you get there.
2) Yes, Severus is bitten by Nagini and she's got some nasty venom, but it's never made clear in the book if he dies from the venom, or simply because she struck at such a vulnerable spot, and thus injecting her venom would've been unnecessary. So, I'm going with exsanguination as his cause of death.
Chapter Three
The King of Timely Rescues
Dust and blood and the scent of things burning—wood, hair, flesh, cloth—hung heavy in the air as the chaotic scene of battle unfolded all across the grounds of Hogwarts.
James had successfully reached the castle under the cover of night, evading being spotted by enemy forces, or even those he, himself, might recognize within the boundary of that familiar, well-remembered property. There was much rumbling, but nothing was truly happening, yet. He knew they were waiting for something. Some pivotal thing that would tell them it was time to act. And he understood what that something was.
The arrival of his son to the castle grounds.
He knew they would not come here by any direct and visible route. They would find some way to sneak in, that had to be how they managed—if they tried in any expected ways, they'd never make it.
But the days that had passed since escaping Yaxley, remaining hidden, the lack of food, only the water he could summon with his wandless magic in the palms of his cupped hands, the sheer exhaustion that had followed the rush of adrenaline after helping that witch escape Gringotts, caught up with him. If he didn't rest now, before sunrise, he might be completely useless tomorrow and everything he'd done to come and help Harry would be for nothing.
Fortunately for him, his long imprisonment had allowed him to find comfortable sleeping positions in even the most unforgiving landscapes. Locating a hidden, if cramped, nook just outside the courtyard wall, James Potter had curled himself into a ball beneath the ragged folds of his robes and closed his eyes.
"Hang on a moment," Ron said, shaking his head. "We've forgotten someone."
"Who?" Hermione asked, stopping short and whirling to face him.
"The—the house elves. They'll all be down in the kitchens, won't they?"
Harry arched a brow, uncertain where Ron was heading with that observation. "You mean we ought to get them fighting?"
"No!" Ron shook his head again, frowning at Harry—wasn't he the one championing the cause of Free Elves alongside Hermione during that awful S.P.E.W. debacle? "I mean we should tell them to get out! We don't want any more Dobbies, do we? We can't order them to die for us—"
His words were cut off by a loud clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded from Hermione's arms and hit the floor. She stared at him wide-eyed, her hands clamped over her mouth.
"What?" Harry and Ron demanded in unison, appearing just as startled as she did.
She only gaped back at them, scrambling to right her thoughts. At Ron's verbal defense of the elves, the words had skittered across her mind that she could kiss him. But that only reminded her of the handsome stranger who'd rescued her at Gringotts yesterday; only sent the sense memory of his breath ghosting over her parted lips dancing across the delicate skin.
If that hadn't happened, she might've just run right over and kissed Ronald Weasley full on the mouth! Now, in the middle of all this! And yet, as much as she was sure she'd wanted that for too long a while as it was, now she had misgivings.
It made her wonder, was her mystery wizard somewhere here, as he'd said he'd be? Somewhere out there among the fighting?
Collecting herself in time to not make her mental stumbling obvious, she let her fingers slip from her mouth as she said in a breathless tumble of words, "I just never thought I'd hear you speaking up on their behalf! I'm so proud of you." She cast a half-hearted glance at Harry as she stooped to pick up the fangs. "Bit disappointed in you, though. Help me here, would you?"
"Oh, right." Harry nodded, pushing aside how he felt abashed for a moment that Ron Emotional-Depth-of-a-Teaspoon Weasley had shown more compassion and sensitivity toward the house elves than he had, as he hurried to help Hermione.
Images drifted across the backs of his eyelids as he dozed. Some of them attached firmly to the touch of a hand, to the glimpse of chestnut-brown eyes and a nervous, if sagely grin, and the quickest brush of a soft mouth against his. Of course, he'd thought as he'd pulled himself back to consciousness with the sounds of spells firing and crackling in the air, she'd been the first pleasant thing he'd encountered in over sixteen years. It made sense his mind would cling to her.
Easing himself up onto his knees, he peered over one of the stooped stone walls. There was absolute anarchy going on all over the bloody place. Everywhere he looked there was fighting, a creature lurking from the shadows to attack the combatants. How long, and how deeply, had he been sleeping?
It didn't matter, he had to get in there to suss out what was happening. In the chaos, it was unlikely anyone would notice he wasn't using a wand to defend himself, but he still couldn't risk being seen by anyone who might recognize him just yet.
Not a problem, that part of him that had learned so well how to scrape by in a pinch said, looks like some folks have already volunteered to let me borrow a cloak.
Bracing for the sudden jolt of movement so soon after being jarred awake, he launched himself over the wall, landing on one knee and the flat of his palms on the other side. He only spared a moment to glance about before snatching the cloak from the nearest fallen wizard and whipping it up around his shoulders. He'd have to thank Corban Yaxley, as strange as it seemed—giving him time in a cage with nothing to do but work on his magic and jog in circles for hours on end every day had clearly helped him keep in fighting shape.
As he tried to get his bearings, determining which way to head, he heard a single name. Remus.
He snapped his attention toward that voice. A young woman was hollering, demanding to know where her husband was. Well, times certainly had changed! Yet, there was no moment to spare for the sad, inadvertent reminder that Sirius was no longer with them.
Though not changed that much, apparently. Aberforth Dumbledore looked as curmudgeonly as ever as he shouted back that Remus was off dueling Antonin Dolohov—good God, why was that bastard not dead, yet? Aberforth was disappearing into a cloud of dust over the bridge, and the young woman—with brightly colored hair, could that really be little 'Dora Tonks all grown up? Remarkable, yet another notice for which he had no time!—followed after him.
Remus. He'd go check on Remus and then come to find out where Harry was. If his other companions were nearly half as capable as that young woman he'd met last night, then James felt he could trust that Harry was safe for the time being.
Besides, he wasn't sure he could trust himself not to run to his son when he finally did see him. And he certainly wasn't sure he could stand idly by when the moment that Harry faced off against Voldemort came to pass.
Pulling up the hood of the cloak over his head, James took off after Tonks.
Beyond the whirling plumes of dust and smoke that obscured anything past the bridge, he saw the duel unfolding. Remus, poor, always-weary Remus, was battling fiercely as Tonks picked up her pace, all but barreling toward her husband. And just in time, it seemed, because as she neared him, James spotted another figure appearing from the tumult to flank Dolohov.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
James could just feel a rumbling sound of anger in the back of his own throat at the sight of her. That she'd clearly been trying to come onto the scene and assist her fellow Death Eater to overpower his opponent only added to the list of reasons he hated that bitch.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Tonks shouted, running up beside Remus to engage the other witch.
James hung back a bit, circling the scene, trying to stay out of sight, even as he readied himself to fire off a Stunner.
Remus was hissing under his breath to his wife, his expression troubled. She shook her head, answering in a tone equally hushed as they dueled the pair of Death Eaters before them. James tried not to laugh. He'd once witnessed the very same thing between the werewolf and Sirius—arguing like a married couple right in the middle of combat.
Whatever she said in response to Remus had relaxed him a little, letting him refocus entirely on Dolohov. Yet, Tonks was distracted, herself.
"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix's scream split the air and 'Dora Tonks dropped to the ground in that terrible flash of acid green.
James felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but not so much as when he saw Remus take his eyes off his opponent. "Oh, no, no, no," he murmured, his head shaking as he saw the vicious grin curving Dolohov's lips.
As he saw a bolt of slashing purple flames erupt from the Death Eater's wand, heading straight for Remus.
"Stupefy!"
His stunner hit Remus just in time, knocking him down, out of the path of whatever the bloody hell that curse hurtling toward him was. There was no time to feel relieved at his own quick intervention, no time to regret that he'd not been able to save 'Dora. Bellatrix and Dolohov immediately turned to look for the source of the mysteriously fired stunning spell.
He said he'd kill Bellatrix, and God help him, he wanted to, but for now, he needed to get them away from Remus before they decided to finish the job.
James fired wildly at them and took off running. Glancing over his shoulder, he aimed a few more shots at them as he moved, ensuring they'd give chase.
"Brilliant plan, Potter," he muttered to himself under his breath, "now you've got two mad Death Eaters on your arse."
Whatever, he was good at improvising. He'd figure out a way to shake them, just so long as they were far enough away to give Remus time to recover, though he didn't envy his friend when he did come to and once more saw his fallen wife lying beside him.
There was so much going on that James nearly didn't spot them at first as Harry, some ginger-haired young man—probably one of the Weasley clan—and that witch from Gringotts went running in the opposite direction.
They were headed for the Forbidden Forest! That was madness!
Having shaken his pursuers, he wheeled around to follow the trio. After a few meters, however, he noticed where they were going. The Whomping Willow. And there could only be one reason to go that bloody menace of a tree.
That made sense now, as he could hear bits and pieces of their conversation as they hurried off. They were going to Voldemort.
Oh, James couldn't let them go alone.
He needed to get to the Shrieking Shack, but that would require . . . . Oh, he was so thick! Honestly, had he knocked his head on something unbeknownst to him? There were wands scattered all over the place, dropped from the hands of fallen witches or wizards.
Distasteful as it was, he hurried back to the nearest body and nicked their wand. Glancing back toward the Willow, he saw it was stilled, and the trio was nowhere in sight.
He nodded to himself, bracing for Disapparition, and then willed himself to appear outside the Shrieking Shack. The moment he popped back into existence, he ignored the swell of sourness in the pit of his stomach, holding the appropriated wand in his left hand as kept his right hand up, palm out, to strike at anyone who might have witnessed his arrival.
No one.
Or so he'd thought, until he heard the unsettling, rasping wail of Voldemort's voice. He was in the Shack, somewhere, that was certain. Lowering his arms, he plastered himself against the wall and carefully edged his way around the perimeter.
Avoiding the windows, he made his way toward that terrible voice. It seemed to be coming from the cellar. The same place where the tunnel from the Whomping Willow let out!
"Kill!" He heard Voldemort shriek the command, panic welling in his chest.
Forgetting entirely about being subtle, he ran to the cellar window. Crouching down to peer in, ready to launch a spell through the long-broken glass panes, if need be, he saw that it was not Harry Voldemort had made that command toward. Severus Snape was crumbled on the floor, swiping feebly at a gaping wound on his throat. Voldemort and his followers were leaving.
He moved to slip in through the window, but in the absence of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, the crates blocking the end of the tunnel were shoved aside, seemingly by nothing at all. Then there was a shimmer in the air, and Harry, the Weasley wizard, and James' brown-eyed witch appeared. So, Dumbledore had passed down James' Invisibility Cloak, after all. Clearly his son was putting it to good use.
The three approached Severus, and oh, James could tell there was no love loss there, but then Severus was waving his free hand weakly in the air, beckoning them closer. James could see the silver tear that fell from Severus' eye then.
"Take . . . take it . . ." he said, his voice low and hollow.
Harry seemed conflicted, even as he found a vial. Even as he did as Severus pleaded with him to do and collected the memories in that tear.
Severus' arm fell to the floor with a dull, sickening thud. The trio, aware there was nothing to be done for him, retreated back down the tunnel.
When he was sure they were out of earshot, James finally slipped in through the window. Landing not far from where Severus lay, he hurried over to him.
Pressing two fingers against the inside of Severus' wrist—as Lily had once shown him, insistent that he learn 'Muggle first aid' the moment she found out she was pregnant—James stilled himself and breathed steadily.
There. Slow, discouragingly slow, and fading, but his pulse was there!
"You think I'm going to just sit here let you die, you son of a bitch?" Ripping a bit of his tattered robes from the hem, he wadded up the fabric and pressed it tight to the wound. Resting his other hand over Severus' chest, he murmured a brief shock spell, giving Severus just enough of a jolt to drag him back into consciousness, but even that was just barely.
Those black eyes blinked, the simple movement slow and labored. Severus looked up, certain this must be a hallucination drummed up by his dying mind. "Potter?"
"Dammit, Snivellus!" James snapped, hoping the unpleasant moniker was enough to let Severus know James Potter's appearance here wasn't a work of his imagination. "Tell me the spell to reverse the damage! I know you know one!"
Shaking his head in a sad, wobbly gesture, Severus mumbled the words, though he wasn't sure why he was bothering. He was dying, that some delusion had shocked him awake for a brief moment, and was just as mean as the real James Potter, made no difference.
Uncertain he'd heard the right collection of syllables, James tried, repeating them anyway. "Sano vulnere."
Impossibly, blood that had run down Severus' neck and seeped into his robes began to recede, crawling back up along the Slytherin wizard's skin. James snatched the wad of fabric back—noting in surprise that the blood had also leeched out of that when it had still be in contact with the Severus' throat—to watch as the lines of crimson retracted, filling back into the wound before it sealed itself closed, the blood vessels beneath righting and closing themselves, as though the fatal gash had never been delivered.
James fell back on his arse, staring at the other wizard with wide eyes. "I can't believe I just did that."
Severus shook his head again, only to wince. The wound was gone, but the soreness from Nagini's fangs tearing into his artery remained. "Neither can I. How the hell are you alive?"
Shrugging at the whispered question, James said, "Yaxley. It's a long story. I'll tell you if we both survive the rest of this mess." He climbed to his feet and started toward the tunnel.
James tacked on, in apparent afterthought, "You tell anyone you saw me before Harry faces Voldemort, and I'll come back and reopen that wound."
Severus scowled, looking about as he merely touched gingerly at his freshly healed throat. "Pretty sure I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, Potter," he murmured.
"Oh, one more thing, Severus."
It was the use of his actual name that snagged the dark-eyed wizard's attention. He returned his gaze to James.
"Thank you for trying to save Lily all those years ago."
"I don't need your thanks for that, I never did."
James groaned. "Well, you've got it anyway, you little shit."
Severus . . . actually snickered. "Fine. You're welcome."
Nodding, James granted him a grudging half-grin before he turned on his heel and headed down the tunnel back toward Hogwarts.
