Thank you Zeugma412!

BlueWater5: Yeah, I'm writing to the equivalent of Snaters, really. Despite knowing what a war hero he is, there are still some people out there willing to cast stones. I mean not everyone hates him, but there is always that very rude, vocal division.

PearlM21: I very much agree, and Andromeda wants to do whatever she can to protect her grandson. And Teddy and Severus are so much fun to write!

/

Author's Notes: Sorry this next chapter took me a while to post – I usually wait until I've written a chapter or two before posting one of my 'ready-to-publish' ones, but I got struck down with Covid (only took me two years, and working as a frontline nurse, so I think I did quite well! LOL). Unfortunately, even despite my extra time off, my energy levels were quite low, and didn't really have much brain power for writing. So, there's that.

Regardless, I do apologize in advance – the following POV after this first one has some gory aspects, so….sorry LOL all part of the main plot 2 of 2.

"Often, it's not about becoming a new person, but becoming the person you were meant to be, and already are, but don't know how to be."
― Heath L. Buckmaster

CHAPTER 11: What Matters Most

March 4th, 2002

[Severus Snape]

The last couple of days had taken quite a personal toll.

Most of the time the days were a blur and sometimes it took several moments to reaffirm what date it was. His memory was usually sharp, but the recent days all seemed to roll into one due to his unmanageable insomnia. He stayed awake on many nights; thus, his mind could never process the date as they passed, often leaving him somewhat manic and disorientated.

But even so, he felt like every day that week was riddled with further bad luck and news which had deeply affected him far more than he ever anticipated.

And then it happened.

His old neighbor at Spinners End had found a way to contact him, as Severus was busy trying to sell the old house and remove all traces of his childhood home from his conscious. Begrudgingly, he didn't ever want to lay eyes on the horrors there ever again, but he knew he couldn't sell it in the abysmal state it was in. He was even tempted to leave it to the rats and the termites to destroy it, but he needed the money, Muggle coin, or not.

After leaving it derelict for quite some time since it was set alight by Death Eaters, he summoned up his remaining willpower and managed to repair it as adequately as he could, not caring much for its condition. Old, molded letters and newspapers were crammed into the letterbox over time during its years of neglect and that was when he discovered him. An old obituary highlighted the Snape patriarch but was only met with a few vague words from an old co-worker of his along with his unhappy, miserable mugshot of a photo.

Severus sneered at the faded, dreary black and white image, wondering how he finally kicked the bucket. Much to his relief, it was a Muggle photo. The last thing he desired from him was the man's last drunken gleam of triumph berating him from even beyond the grave.

His father, Tobias, had finally met his end, and yet there was a strange hollowness within his chest. Despite his personal satisfaction at the news, there was another piece of himself that crumbled away. The last living blood relative. His Muggle bastard of a father. The figure who had twisted Severus' soul into something far darker than he'd ever cared to admit. The man who treated his son like the dirt beneath his shoes and someone not worthy of life itself.

It hurt. Amongst the news, it hurt unexpectedly. And not for a longing of another parent now perished, but the loss of a childhood so broken that it could never be repaired thanks to Tobias and his drunken rages. The nights he spent cowering in the corner as soon as he heard the crack of the man's belt against the wall. The thumping of the man's steel-capped shoes against the weakened wooden floorboards as he pursued his own son, plaguing the air with his drunken breath in pursuit of the nearest target to release his anger upon – his own wife and child.

Was it justice served for the man's deserved death? No more than the night James Potter had met his end. Both deaths ended up without any resolve for Severus, as both figures had ruined his life to a marginal degree and that which could never be erased. Their deaths should have been satisfactory to Severus, but instead, left him feeling back at the end of his tether.

Unsatisfied, and cheated.

He didn't know what possessed him to do so, but eventually, he allowed himself to venture to the local cemetery to find his father buried there. Perhaps he just needed confirmation that he was truly gone, for the last time. After scouring the rows of the dead amongst battered old crumbling tombstones, he found the one he was looking for. He honestly did not know what to feel, as he stood there with his billowing traveling cloak, casting his shadowed gaze down in disgust on a man who did not deserve to be called a father.

As angry as he was, goose pimples riddled his pale skin giving him an odd shiver as he contemplated the life he could have lived if his father were not the narcissistic drunk who blamed all his misfortune on his own family. He often wondered what kind of man he would be if at least one of his parents gave a damn about his wellbeing. A mother who ended her own life because she couldn't protect her son from him, and a father who abused the two of them the moment he arrived home from his frequent post-work pub outings. Tobias likely slept around, which didn't surprise Severus in the slightest.

But again, he and his mother Eileen were left to suffer in his wake. Severus often grew angry at her for not doing enough and sometimes yelled at her for not using magic against him. But she was too afraid to do such a thing, and he never understood why. Perhaps Tobias had scared her completely senseless and told her what a worthless wretch she was, so much, that she struggled to use magic again. Or perhaps he threatened to beat her senseless if she ever dared show her wand in Tobias' sight. He never once saw her wand, so for all he knew, Tobias may have even destroyed it.

Now all he could remember was his mother hastily slipping old magical tomes under his bed, so he had something to occupy himself with, whilst his parents were arguing on the floor below.

Resisting the urge to spit on his grave, he quickly left before his anger began to bubble and pour over the edge.

Good riddance, Tobias. You are no father of mine.

The following day was met with his dreaded trip to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, which was currently selling a few rarer ingredients he desired to have in his collection. He usually kept these types of outings to a bare minimum because he simply didn't have the energy nor the patience to deal with people. The last time he was here, someone had thrown an item of food – an egg, last he recalled - at him as if he was the public shame of the wizarding community. Granted, not everyone felt this way about him. But the ones that stood out, are those that condemned him. Because that was really all that he could never forget. There were some decent people out there who even thanked him, but he turned away even from them bitterly and tried to leave as swiftly as he could. Staying home just seemed the far safer option rather than facing anyone potentially unfriendly.

But this time, there were things he could not delay and his decades-old acquaintance at the Apothecary had sent him an owl with some new items in stock by a recent import from Kenya. Severus initially desired to make the transactions somewhere a little more private, but the shopkeeper did not want to risk traveling beyond Diagon Alley to sell off the rarer finds.

So, Severus braced the public yet again.

Of course, each travel beyond the safety net of his own home always came at a toll, this time was not any different than the last. This time, people had tauntingly whispered things to him in passing amongst the crowd such as 'traitor,' 'your fault', and of course his favorite, 'Death Eater scum'. Each word not only made the hairs on his arms stand on end, but his own blood to boil in his own simmering anger at their ignorance and quick judgment.

None of them had no idea what he had to endure.

Except for a very select few.

But much to Severus' relief, one did arrive in time once he had completed the errand, he had set out to do.

Harry Potter, along with his wife and godson, made their presence known much to his already deep-seated humiliation. Once he did so, the others who were casting filthy glances his way, soon dispersed on the arrival of the Chosen One. But it was strange to think even after all this time, Harry still felt obliged to help him. And deep down, Severus hated it. As much as he grew to care for Harry over time like his own, the thought of being pitied by a Gryffindor made him a little sick to his stomach. Perhaps at this point, he soon realized what a failure he had become after the War, even promising to the Chosen One to be better.

To do better.

And he felt he did neither; instead, casting himself away from magical eyes because the shame of what he had done was simply too much to bear. He barely had enough galleons to leave Britain and he hoped to have gained some traction with his creations. Well, for a fleeting time, he did.

The major problem was – no one trusted him anymore. Not since Rita Skeeter's book, warping the community yet again and causing him to lose his job at St. Mungo's.

For so many years, he had learned to limit his relationships and acquaintances during his role as a spy, which getting close to anyone would have likely been his own death sentence. Or someone else's. Involving anyone else in his life was like walking on eggshells and they would have been in likely potential danger. After Lily's death, or even that of Charity Burbage's, he never wanted to be responsible for another innocent life ever again. It would have been too cruel to find someone worthy to be in his life during his darker years, only to have them ripped away again.

As lonely as his life was, he took the road less traveled. Albeit the most isolated and suffocating. But he knew deep down, that this was his own sentence – his own self-inflicted punishment. The drive to protect and watch over Harry in Lily's memory was the only thing truly keeping him alive to see another day.

Eventually and begrudgingly accepting Harry's help that day – with Lupin's insufferable spawn in tow – Severus allowed them to enter his home to help with his haul. But Severus had so much on his mind that he simply much preferred to sit alone in the darkness than to try and appease Harry and the little glitter-crazed cretin.

But Severus knew…He knew Harry could detect his downtrodden behavior. That of which he failed to mask. As much as he punished himself by remaining isolated, he accepted Harry's offer to return the next day. There were only so many times he could say no, and he really didn't desire for Harry to feel guilty over him. He absolutely despised that.

However, perhaps Severus needed to learn to accept the company because in the end, he really did care a lot about him. And maybe, hearing his voice was better than listening to his own degrading one condemning his own actions. Someone else's voice would be a welcoming reprieve rather than his own. As much as Severus expressed his irritation with Harry's company at times, he really did appreciate him around when he did. Silently, of course. A part of Severus felt a measure of sadness for no longer having him around as they used to in their days confined to Grimmauld Place after Voldemort fell. During Severus' horrible illness, they were fond memories.

Special ones.

Their bond grew after the War's end, and they learned to finally respect each other – something neither of them ever thought possible.

But during the pair's personal struggles over the years, they are both still learning to come to terms with everything that has happened. It wasn't something one could easily get over. Both were suffering from being survivors when so many lost their lives. Harry was quite noticeably dissociative at times, which Severus had observed on multiple occasions. Harry seemed a little jumpier these days, and still quite obviously depressed. Severus could tell Harry had some memory issues and struggle with recollection. In some instances, it wasn't a terrible thing. But there were times Harry even forgot the names of some of those who had fallen in the Second Wizarding War, which was highly peculiar to him. Even Severus made it his mission to remember every single one. It was the very least he could do for all the damage he caused.

And Severus – Well, Severus was struggling to deal with being alive.

In a way, he felt like a disappointment to himself and everyone else, knowing that he had hoped he'd be far better than the man he currently was. No, there was no true happiness to be found for him. Everything seemed to have fallen so heavily – loss of work, lacking motivation, financial troubles, unhappiness, and the deep dark despair of his own mind. He was pitiful and he very well knew it. If someone called him a miserable bastard, he would simply nod and agree. He wasn't going to pretend to be someone he wasn't. But he suspected both Minerva and Harry knew that he wasn't in a good place and yet Severus struggled with the idea of being supported by either of them.

He was too stubborn and ashamed to accept genuine help and he'd rather much suffer with it alone if could avoid dragging someone down with him. He wouldn't wish his misery on either of them.

Hence why shutting himself away for years was the best and safest option for everyone.

Severus woke up groggy the next morning, feeling the third glass of whiskey hit him so suddenly given his empty stomach the previous night. He found himself collapsed on the couch with the faint rays of the morning light piercing the dust-filled air. He lay there for what seemed like almost an hour, simply staring up at the slightly faded painted ceiling above. He ignored the grumbling of his stomach but was careful to sit up feeling the room spin around his vision.

He knew he had to stop drinking and the thought of that not-so-new addiction alone was repulsive.

He hated himself for even starting such a wretched dependence, and now the idea of it completely knocking him out every night seemed incredibly appealing. It was really the only way he could give his mind a rest, by drinking into a stupor, forcing him to sleep and shut the world away for a while. Although unfortunately, it left him feeling rotten and useless the moment he awoke. He didn't trust himself with his own potions to help rid his mind of Nagini's violent assault again, thus strong spirits were the only other way he could do it.

And now, ironically, he was his father all over again.

Eventually, he peeled himself away from the sofa chair and dragged himself up on his feet. At that moment, his eagle owl Onyx fluttered into the room and perched himself on the kitchen chair watching as Severus walked by. A small letter was clutched to its beak.

Reaching over to retrieve it from the bird's hold, he ran his fingers through the grey feathers of its head fondly leaving Onyx to give a small squawk in delight. He peeled the open letter carefully to reveal familiar messy handwriting, wincing in his bid to decipher the inked mess:

Severus,

I will be there soon.

Don't worry, Teddy will be home this time. He's banned from explosive glitter for a while.

Looking forward to seeing you.

Regards, Harry.

Severus drew in a small breath and held it for several moments.

'Looking forward to seeing you.'

Severus clenched his jaw, feeling somewhat inadequate. It was odd to think that he was in some ways and found it slightly uplifting to think that anyone looked forward to seeing him. Least of all from Harry the boy wonder, himself. Severus knew he was mostly a dark cloud these days – something that was always there and couldn't get away from. He had to wonder why Harry continued to come back and see him, as if his own dour mood couldn't even shrug him off. There must be something Harry still saw in him, even if he still didn't see it himself. Because even after all this time, he really wasn't the right person to be within Harry's life, as there would always be someone else worthier and more important than he.

Severus simply was unable to add any value to the Gryffindor's life, and thus, felt more of a burden than anything else.

Sighing deeply to himself, he threw the letter on the table and wandered to his potions lab as if his feet were stuck on autopilot. He eyed the unorganised mess on the table from yesterday's haul and was silently grateful for some upcoming help to sort it all out. Severus didn't mind dealing with it himself, in fact he much preferred it as it passed the time and exercised his methodical brain. But the thought of Harry offering to help was somehow cathartic to him and accepted the offer in hope he could present himself in less of a hopeless case for him. Maybe it could provide a good opportunity to talk about simple things, rather than the horrors that still plague both of their minds.

Perhaps the human interaction could help ease his troubled mind, somehow.

Halfway through pulling out the empty jars off his dusty wooden shelf, Severus heard the familiar creak of his front door, followed by a small stumble on the step on the way in.

Clumsy, Potter.

He knew very well it was Harry before he even said a word – he'd marvel at the day Harry didn't trip over that same step every time he walked through.

"Not so subtle, " Severus smirked lightly under his messy hair, as Harry entered the potions lab.

"Good afternoon to you, too, " Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Harry wandered inside and winced at the amount of new ingredients splayed over the wooden workbench, "…Blimey, sir. Did you buy half of the Apothecary?"

"As tempting as it would be, galleons are realistically not in abundance."

"You know I can – "

" – No, Harry, " Severus cut him off. No, he did not want Harry to continue offering to give him his money and Severus wanted nothing to do with the Potter fortune. Especially not after his secretive plot with Kingsley to purchase his abode as a thank you on behalf of the Ministry. But even so, Severus would never again accept any more financial help from Harry. If he was going to struggle with it, he was going to do that alone.

Harry eyed the mess already flustered with the upcoming task, "…Where do you want me to start?"

Severus pointed at the dozens of empty glass jars already set upon the workbench, some which had labels plastered against them in faded black ink, "Begin with the dried Egyptian lavender – remove the bulbs carefully with the cutting board and knife."

Nodding obediently, Harry reached into the bag and pulled out several sprigs of rather oddly pungent lavender and placed them on the board, and began the task. Severus noticed the Gryffindor eyeing the three bubbling cauldrons on the other side of the desk, "What are you brewing, sir?"

Severus released a frustrated sigh, "Potion attempt number thirty-eight, thirty-nine and forty."

Harry blinked several times, clearly appearing as if he didn't hear correctly, "Forty? …How close are you to, well…"

"…Completion?" Severus finished the Gryffindor's sentence, with a raised eyebrow, "Approximately halfway. Each takes several months to brew, so I usually construct them simultaneously." Severus began tearing apart the bark of arran whitebeam and placing them in a larger jar. "Some of the ingredients appear to be clashing and giving less than ideal adverse effects. I'd rather not lose basic motor functions."

Harry grimaced at the thought, "Can the original one not be replicated exactly? I know that was a three-month ordeal, but there has to be an easier way."

Severus shook his head, "That specific potion could only work in conjunction with the others, and under specific conditions. However, the effect of that potion is not the same I wish to achieve with my own brew. My variation is, somewhat more precise and well…infuriatingly complex."

Harry bit his lip and finished with the lavender, soon resealing the jar, and placing it on the adjacent shelf along the alphabetized label. He moved onto what looked like seashells and stared at them blankly.

Feeling amused at Harry's confused expression, Severus continued, "Crush finely with mortar and pestle. Break them apart in smaller pieces first, otherwise you'll be at it until morning."

Harry nodded, dragging the heavy mortar in front of him. Severus noticed him zone out a little. "Right. I just…The potion sounds dangerous."

Severus stopped his task so suddenly and turned to eye the Gryffindor with a steely gaze, "Are you questioning my methods? Dangerous is right up your alley."

Harry appeared to give a half-laugh and began to grind the shells after hitting them into smaller shards, "Very funny, sir. Well, the problems weren't going to solve themselves."

"That's what adults are for, Harry, in case that had slipped your notice, " Severus responded, moving things around the workbench, and adding ingredients to the simmering cauldrons as he did so effortlessly. "You were too busy getting yourself in wretched trouble every year, where you could have enlisted the assistance of one of your elders. I would have not made the list, but surely Minerva would have been your primary choice."

"Well, I guess after she dismissed us regarding the Philosopher's Stone fiasco in first year…we kind of stopped trying after that, " Harry bit his lip, casting almost nervous glances at the man beside him.

Severus turned to look at Harry again with a deep frown, "Foolish. Why would you even consider risking your life in that way? I could barely keep up with you."

Harry paused in thought for a moment, "Because most adults in my life have let me down to some extent, if not completely? And you wondered why I never listened to them, even you. I struggled to trust any of them. Can you really blame me for that?"

Severus sighed, knowing very well where this was going, "I know, Harry. And I made it worse."

Harry shook his head adamantly, "The Dursley's messed me up, not you."

"You missed the point – my actions against you in the past made things worse, " Severus placed the next jar back on its shelf and pinched an orange power within a small dish, dashing it within one of the cauldrons. He was worried to make any eye contact with the Gryffindor at this point because he knew he still felt guilty over it all. Sometimes it hurt to even look at him, causing him to remember every one of his errors, "I didn't ever care to envision things from your perspective. Had I scraped a little more patience, I would have seen that our upbringings before Hogwarts were far more similar than I ever dared to admit. Instead, I chose to deny them, like a miserable fool."

"No, you're not, " Harry had finished crushing the shells and leaned beside the bench, looking directly at Severus, "Look, we had trouble trusting each other for a long time. I crossed the line and peered into your Pensieve when I wasn't supposed to and I didn't expect you to take my memories seriously, anyway."

"I gave you no logical reason to trust me, in turn, jeopardising those lessons. I was far too blinded by…" Severus' sneered at himself, and looked away, "…by my resentment."

Harry lowered his head, "And I was blinded by my hate, too. So, look, can we please leave that behind us? We both admitted to messing up and you had no idea how horrible I felt after I saw…you know…I wasn't pleased about it. I was angry, shocked…horrified. I should have come to you and apologised for the intrusion, but I didn't. I've felt guilty about that ever since. Maybe we would have been able to mend some things earlier."

"That would not have been possible, and it would have all been undone when I ended Albus' life, " Severus responded, quietly, "So that sentiment would have been wasted."

"I suppose…I'm just, overthinking too much, " Harry frowned, "I guess all this extra time has got me thinking of a lot of things and how I should have done things differently. I was stupid and didn't care about what you thought of me in school, and I was reckless and intentionally – "

"- Stubborn? Defiant? Rebellious? Arrogant?" Severus gave a light smirk.

Harry gave an embarrassed chuckle, "Well, I actually going to say disobedient, but sure. I suppose I can't argue with that."

"After all this time, now you agree with my assessment?" Severus continued to smirk, "Once again, you astonish me with your revelations, Harry."

"Hey, don't get too carried away. It didn't help that no one ever took me seriously when I did tell adults something was wrong. If I couldn't trust them, then it was easier just to do it myself."

However soon, the smirk melted off Severus' face and he peered into Harry's green eyes in all seriousness, "And…do you trust me?"

Harry glanced back as though Severus cracked a joked that he didn't find humorous. The younger man nodded, completely sure of himself, "Yes. Yes, I do. More than I ever thought I would, and I wish I did so far earlier."

Releasing a breath, he didn't realise he held, his heart swelled within as Severus gave a single curt nod, "I'm very relieved to hear that."

Harry smiled in return, feeling a tinge of warmth within his cheeks, "Uh, so, what's next?"

Noticing Harry's curious gaze towards the bag of something that appeared very unpleasant to the eye, "Dice those salamander livers finely."

"Ugh, " Harry grimaced, wrinkling his nose, and making no effort to hide his disgust.

The older man raised an eyebrow, staring at Harry with a dulled expression, "...You asked."

Harry dragged a new cutting board in front of him, "Okay, sure. I just need to focus on not vomiting."

"Don't you dare vomit in my lab."

"I won't..." But Harry's eyes started to water with the smell that was definitely rather sour.

"I'll see to it that you refrain from doing so - "

Severus glowered and immediately left the lab and returned with a single lemon within his grasp. Harry watched in confusion as he grabbed a small knife off the wall rack and sliced it into several smaller pieces. The Slytherin grabbed his wand at the workbench and tapped the smaller empty unused cauldron at the other end of the table, casting a water charm, and slowly filling it halfway. Tapping the rim again, the water rose slightly and began to slowly bubble. He squeezed one half of the lemon in the boiling contents, emptying the other slices within the water, rind, and all. Working all within half a minute, he retrieved a morsel of ginger from the container on the shelf beside him, sliced it in several places, and threw it in with the lemon, immediately filling the room with its freshly combined scent. His senses began to feel invigorated, and he could already see the relief on Harry's face that it worked for him, too.

The sound of the additional bubbling cauldron amongst the others, was soothing to his own ears, and colour finally returned to Harry's face.

Looking a little less pale, Harry chuckled, clearly impressed, "You have a remedy for everything, don't you?"

Severus couldn't help but feel a little smug, "Considering how easily potions can turn disastrous, as you've so clumsily displayed in the past, one must be prepared for such mishaps and side-effects. Lemon and ginger work wonders for nausea, which you witnessed me practically living on for weeks."

"I haven't forgotten. Actually, you got me hooked on your tea brews. Though Ginny had enough of smelling peppermint everywhere, so I had to tone that one down, " Harry laughed, as he finally turned to the dreaded task he was assigned and began to chop up the required ingredients.

"Honey will be ideal to add to diffuse scent and taste, " Severus added.

Harry smiled to himself, "...I can't believe we are talking about tea, now."

Severus was silent for a moment, until he spoke again, "What else do you prefer we talk about?"

"Oh, no, I'm not complaining. Talking like this is...nice."

Severus felt a little pleased with the response and yet he kept his expression serious, "Sometimes the mundane conversations can be a welcome relief from the subjects of our dismal pasts. That, I'm certain, we can both agree on."

"Well, if we find we are getting too depressed over it, maybe I can come up with another magical quandary, to pick your brain with, " Harry suggested as he tilted his head at the man, looking hopeful, "How does that sound?"

Severus smirked, feeling rather impressed with the idea, "Challenge accepted."

Suddenly, Harry dropped the knife back onto the cutting board and for a split second, Severus thought he had injured himself, "Oh, I'm an idiot!"

Severus stared deadpan, "…Am I meant to disagree?"

Harry gave a sarcastic laugh, "No, I mean, yes, just…Stop that for a minute." Wiping his hands on the nearest cloth, the Gryffindor took a few moments to tap around his jeans pockets until he sighed in relief at something he found.

Severus raised an eyebrow, wondering what on Earth could be so important, "What is it?"

Harry's cheeks appeared to flush slightly, and he struggled to meet the man's gaze, "So, uh, sir…I've been meaning to give you this for a while…since the wedding. Remember Colin Creevey? He died in the battle. Well, his brother Dennis wanted to become a photographer in memory of him and well…he snapped this of us..."

Curious and admittingly a little anxious about what he might find, Severus' eyebrows crinkled together and watched as Harry retrieved a photo from within his jean pocket and extended it out to him seemingly anxious himself. Retrieving the photo in his slightly shaking grasp, he turned the image over and was taken aback by what stared back at him.

Harry continued, but Severus' eyes were too transfixed on the photograph with his voice drowned out by the sound of his thumping heartbeat, "I was meant to give this to you yesterday, but it didn't feel like the right time, and I didn't want to cheapen it by owling it to you earlier…You left soon after this was taken."

Severus studied the photo in his grasp, seeing the images moving with the charm imbued within it. It was a moment in the wedding when Severus took a few minutes to speak with Harry before his hasty exit. At the far end of the room away from the celebrating crowd, the photo was a snapshot of the two of them sitting together. The photo itself was taken from a distance and that itself made it more special. A rare, natural snapshot. Harry, adorned in a very smart suite as the groom, looked happy and content, smiling with whatever conversation they were having. He didn't remember the conversation, much to his frustration, and the glasses of whiskey he consumed that evening in his own silent despair, but he knew at that rare moment, he was smiling a little as well. As much as he didn't really desire to be there, he did it for Harry who wanted him to be a part of it all.

And for that moment, Severus knew he himself looked…different.

Who knew something as simple as a smile could change one's appearance? Peering at this almost unnerving feature of himself, made him feel like a stranger in his own photograph. Alas, it wasn't a big smile. But any genuine smile from Severus was indeed a rare sight to behold.

He dropped his façade a little that night and allowed himself to feel pride and happiness for the Potter he spent years protecting. The young adult he now was, he had grown to respect and learned to love in his own way like his own. The rare smile he allowed himself to show in public and one that no one else but Harry had truly seen before.

But the emptiness in his chest grew larger once more and Severus was sad to know that he had not honestly smiled like that in an awfully long time.

The rare moment of bliss before the storm.

A genuine, true smile in which he hoped that one day, he could truly feel that way again.

Joy – whatever that felt like.

As the evening drew on, Harry soon departed, and his world was cold and empty once more.

March 12th, 2002

[Dawn Rheingold]

There was another.

…Poor soul.

Dawn Rheingold was pulled out from her slumber within her sleeping quarters at Hogwarts in the middle of a cloudy, crisp spring night and found herself answering an urgent call from her superior. A grey and white owl tapped furiously on the fourth-floor stained window of her quarters, with a quick scribble of inked words within its hastily delivered letter. Quickly slipping into a casual turquoise and copper cloak, she dashed down the Gryffindor Tower and sent word to Minerva of her immediate absence for the night. She then traveled directly to Glasgow to meet with the rest of her team for an impromptu meeting.

A magical resident had alerted the Ministry and immediately, Minister Shacklebolt contacted them directly to investigate the fresh murder.

A Muggleborn victim, a man in his sixties, was found hanging by his neck in the courtyard of the Glasgow Cathedral.

Well, according to what Dawn was able to see, anyway. Each victim had a strange presentation of an odd illusion charm cast upon it – one designed to give each observer a different visual of the death, masking its truth and reality. It was not until they were able to illuminate and piece together evidence on basis of the disturbed environment, that they were able to finally uncover the true cause. And until they found that cause, were they all able to identify it equally. It was difficult to swap theories when they all observed different things.

Not to mention the killer was very precise in covering their tracks. No tracking charm was able to give them any indication of their whereabouts except for what they wanted them to see and that frustrated them immensely. It was almost as if the killer was teasing them…mocking them. Possibly watching them struggle to piece any of it together.

But one thing was absolute in their immediate observation amongst the peculiar illusion charm – a bloodied Dark Mark was brutally carved within his left forearm, just like the others. Blood was dripping below his black Muggle trainers, creating a thickened pool reflecting the glittering stars above. The blood itself had seeped between the cracks of the cobblestone pathways to the looming church ahead. It was actually rather eerie to see.

On the moment of the team's arrival, they immediately placed anti-Muggle barrier charms around close vicinity to conceal their investigation from potential prying eyes.

Keeping her ivory wand within her grasp as she reached them hastily, she turned to her colleagues, "Alright, let's get the obvious out of the way – what do you lot see?"

"I see a decapitated body on the floor, whose head is, well…over there, " Raphael grimaced.

"A bloodbath, that's wha' it looks like, " Desmond huffed under his breath, scratching at his lengthy black and grey beard to distract him from the horrid sight before him, "Not even sure where half 'is limbs are."

Rowan frowned deeply in thought, crossing his arms across his chest, surveying the scene before them, "I see what look like acidic burns to eighty percent of his body. I even smell burnt hair."

"Pleasant, " Dawn responded, distastefully, "I see dislocated limbs and strangulation at the neck by rope. His neck is bent and broken. What say you, Ronald?"

Ron looked close to being sick standing behind the others, but swallowed obvious bile rising within his throat, "A clean cut from neck to groin – yeah, safe to say I'm skipping breakfast in the morning."

Rowan, the team leader, turned grimly to the others, "Right, let's spread out and look for clues so we can eliminate how and where this poor man initially died. It's too far out in the open to happen here. Stay alert. We're on dangerous ground, here. I suggest you pair up. Meanwhile, I'll scan the body so that we have a fresh snapshot of the crime scene. "

Nodding apprehensively, Dawn motioned sharply for Ron to follow her, "Ronald, with me." She raised her wand and immediately cast Lumos, illuminating the area around them in a soft blue glow, with Ron beside her doing the same. Dawn noticed that the Weasley was silent, and she couldn't help but smirk lightly under her roughly braided hair. "This case is a tough one for you. One of your most gruesome yet."

Ron wrinkled his nose and nodded, "Yeah, you could say that." He yawned.

Dawn gave a small chuckle, as the pair of them cautiously wandered to the path beside the church, "It would be most wise to carry a Wideeye potion with you. As a novice, you'll learn overtime of such necessities once you receive more intricate cases such as this one."

"I s'pose I'll keep that in mind for next time, " Ron ran his Lumos-lit wand across the cobblestone path around them, squinting through the pale light in their bid to uncover signs of struggle, "…Is this your worst?"

Dawn's pale blue eyes gleamed against the charmed light, but she could only pause in thought, "Worst isn't the term I'd use. I've had some stomach-churning cases in my past, but this one…This one is highly peculiar."

"How so?"

"Well, " Dawn stopped and turned to a worried looking Ron, lowering her voice in all seriousness, "These cases are the kind you'd expect to find when Voldemort was still in power. But now? We should not still be seeing these things and most certainly not the Dark Mark in any form."

Ron nodded rather distastefully, looking around him as if they were being watched, "Yeah. I got that much from it. I figured it was some lunatic doing it to scare the public for the fun of it, but it just feels…wrong. Like we're missing something obvious."

Dawn nodded once, in all seriousness, "Quite right. You sense it too. I mean, you've had more exposure with Voldemort himself than either of us have…Does any of this feel familiar to you?"

"In a sense, yeah. Like…Like he's still around."

"Ronald, " Dawn lowered her wand to the ground, but kept her gaze fixed sternly upon the younger man, "I must reinforce that no one aside from your team must know of this. Is that understood? We can't have people knowing that the Dark Mark has been cropping up etched within Muggleborn victims across Britain. You do recognize the seriousness of this?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah, I get it. I know. This could be a bloody disaster if this got out."

"Precisely. And not only that, we simply do not know enough to take appropriate action. We are currently chasing our tails and if word gets out, the Auror office and the Ministry would be condemned. After the end of the Second Wizarding War, that is a risk we simply cannot take."

"I know…it's bad, " Ron said in agreement, "Do you think we need more Aurors on the mission? Do you think we can solve this?"

Dawn clenched her jaw and shook her head, "The Minister himself created this team to get to the bottom of this discreetly. We are a specialized covert initiative, Ronald, and we have been personally chosen and entrusted to figure this out. Far more than your standard Auror. The fewer people know, the smoother our job will be. Could you imagine forty or so dunderheads taking reigns upon this case? The community will lose their minds in fear. I'd rather resign than clean up that mess. We have a good team, with years of experience between us. What we are investigating now, is something neither of us have seen before."

"Lucky me, then, " Ron gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"Don't sell yourself short. A fresh set of youthful eyes is what we need to envision a new perspective - " Dawn paused for a moment, blinking several times, and shaking her head in a double-take, " – Good grief, now I sound like I'm about to gauge out your eyeballs."

Hearing Ron chuckle beside her, she turned her wand back to the ground and furrowed her brow. She swished her wand over the ground before their feet, in her bid to focus on something that may be out of the ordinary.

Pausing at the area, she knelt down at the cobblestone path and began to draw a large complex sigil on the floor, which she began to trace multiple times while chanting an incantation, "Medeis vestigium illumino…" The sigil began to glow red, which emitted dull crimson pulses from its symbol with every completed loop of the incantation. On the third chant, the pulses had ceased and instead wisps of red flares began to illuminate sections of the path that were originally hidden from their magical eyes. The wisps themselves were extremely faint, but it was enough to pinpoint a trail leading to a large tree within the gardens surrounding the church.

Pushing back onto her feet, she set out to follow the magical trail with Ron in complete awe beside her. Her Lumos-lit wand was low to the ground, but her eyes pierced the area around them like a hawk ready for any possible attack. It was only a few steps forward when Dawn stopped at the tree, where the magical trail had ceased. At the base of the tree were a blood-stained rope and further splatters in the area around them.

Dawn looked up at the tree, tracing her wand against the trail of blood against its wooden trunk, "The victim was secured here. The blood is sprayed oddly around, which indicates to me that this poor man was tortured, most likely before death."

Kneeling down on his heels, Ron was observing the splattering of blood at the base of the tree, which now appeared to be leading towards the body, "And must be where he carved the Mark, before he, well…dragged him out in the open."

"Which means the dead man is not currently hanging, and thus, I'm inclined to think Desmond saw correctly, along with my own initial observation. He was tortured, " Dawn sighed, "This illusion charm is highly problematic. Ronald, scan the blood and the objects. I'll save what we've seen." Dawn reached into the satchel fastened to her waist and pulled out two empty teardrop vials. Extending her wand to her temple, she began to extract thin, web-like wisps of memories and guided them carefully into the vial. With another tap of her wand, the silvery strands split in two and filled the second vial. Then, she turned to the bloodied rope and levitated it carefully into a charmed pouch for them to further examine afterward.

"Perlustro objectum…Perlustro vicinum…" Meanwhile, Ron was waving his wand over the remnants of the rope and the surrounding blood and cast each object with a blue glow which shimmered with each chant, recording the objects in whisps similar to extracted memories to be replicated and displayed later for their next meeting.

Once the pair had surveyed the rest of the area, they returned to Rowan, Desmond, and Raphael to discuss what they had seen. Desmond and Raphael were falsely led to the carcass of a deceased feline, and Rowan concluded that what Desmond had seen, was the correct death of the poor victim.

Dawn held up her vial of the memories, "We have something, at least. It's not much, but it'll help us piece it all together with a little extra time. I've replicated it so I can examine it myself in private."

Desmond swore crudely under his breath, "Might as well be an Unspeakable, at this point."

Raphael scoffed, "Pfft, the Ministry won't dare give us a raise."

"Why the hell not? Considering the case right now, we bloody well need it."

Rowan paused for a few moments, as the rest of the team fell silent in anticipation. He was clearly at wit's end and struggled to process what was happening. Although he was the one usually remaining stoic, there was frustration within his expression that could not be masked, "They are just leading us purposely astray. Every precious moment we waste trying to decipher and chip through their charms is another step closer to losing another victim."

"This charm is absolutely ghastly, " Desmond said, bitterly, "Are ye sure it's not listed in the directory?"

Rowan turned to Desmond with a stern frown, "We've scoured them all – nothing has been registered with these effects. Not even remotely close to it."

"Must be a new creation, then, " Ron interjected, "It's weird…I've never heard of an illusion charm quite like this one. What's to say it's not still in effect? Are we still under its effects? We don't know the true limits of this spell."

Raphael nodded in agreement, "Hell of a way to hide the true cause of death and delay the search. He's right on that one."

Desmond growled, "Bloody demon. He's playin' games with us."

"He? Could be a she, " Dawn shrugged, "Hell, it may not even be just one person. We could be looking at multiple offenders, here."

"With those burning questions, I realise we know close to nothing at this point, " Rowan gave a deep sigh, "We have much to piece together, still. I'll take our new evidence back to the sealed office at the Ministry. Dawn, return to your post at Hogwarts. Desmond and Ron, please scour the rest of the outskirts of the Cathedral and see if we've missed anything. Raphael, I require you to investigate the man's identity, family, and any connections that may be of relevance to us – Procure a list of names, and we'll go from there. There has to be something connecting these three together, and it surely cannot be just because they are Muggleborns. Something else is amiss."

Desmond and Ron soon departed and wandered towards the looming church overhead, whilst Raphael began to cast an array of charms on the victim.

Dawn turned to Rowan, passing over the evidence contained within the pouch, "I might try and raid the Hogwarts library for any morsel of information that may help us understand this charm. Or something to help us truly remove it. Ronald is right – how can we truly trust what we see? What if this evidence is a figment of this charm? We are running in terribly blind."

Rowan nodded, looking worried, which was rare for him, "I thought the same, also. Three victims, and we still have not a single solid lead."

"Those poor families – " Dawn closed her eyes gently, with her hand resting over her chest feeling sad for the injustice of it all, before turning back to her superior, "Rowan, I will do my best to try and formulate some ideas while I resume my post at Hogwarts. We are all at a loss, and we could do with a little bit of hope right about now. I'm not liking these current odds."

"Do what you are able, but I want Hogwarts as your primary priority, " Rowan gave a curt nod, "I will contact you again in sufficient time. Stay alert, Dawn."

"Same to you."

With a last hopeless glance at the victim – who had since been encased in a magical preservation shield ready for transport – Dawn turned and apparated away, making the sullen journey back to Hogwarts in the dead of night.

They needed assistance, but no one else was to know about it.

Time to enforce a little bit of cunning.

…Godric Gryffindor would not take kindly to that.