A5mia: Often a big event is a catalyst for change.

PearlM21: Thank you – I did want to highlight Harry's growth here, too. Maybe years ago, he would continue to be blindsided by it and seep in that resentment, but he is learning to take fault for his own actions, too. And honestly, the same goes for Severus.

BlueWater5: Honestly, Severus frustrates me too because I really want to yell some sense into him! Thank you, though. That's a nice compliment. It's always hard to keep characters IC, in an AU world.

"But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, they've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul."
― Julie Gregory

CHAPTER 17: Before I wake

April 14th, 2002

[Dawn Rheingold]

Dawn Rheingold was nose-deep in a large tome of Illusion magic in her bid to further her research into the case her team was working on. It was a slow trudge through, and she felt as if she had read the same passages on repeat, which for the subject she was delving into, was highly ironic. But she was tired of the endless information and no answers to many of her burning questions. And it had come to a personal conclusion that the man they sought, may have created something new. Magic too fresh and unique for ancient eyes such as those who wrote such old tomes. The illusion magic was something she had never seen, and yet the answer was so close, and yet so very far.

It was frustrating – as lightly as she could put it. Not having the answers put so simply made her irate and slightly agitated. Her mind constantly trailing to the enemy still loose within the magical and Muggle population and that thought alone sent shivers down her spine. They still had no idea where to look, and Dawn had the sinking feeling that they needed to beat them at their own game. The only way to find them was to catch them in the act before the magic is somehow cast, but that goal alone was almost laughable. Their enemy knew they were onto them, and they had not a single thread of a lead. Raphael – as brilliant as his research efficiency was – was unable to find a viable lead.

Again, they were sitting ducks. And there was not yet any justice for the families of those who were mercilessly slain.

Her eyes flicked to The Daily Prophet promptly delivered by her favorite House Elf Trixie, next to a freshly steaming pile of coffee. She quickly flickered through the pages, scanning for any information pertaining to their case. If there was something high on their priority list, it was ensuring no word of it got out. The last thing they needed was Rita Skeeter's dirty paws all over the story, igniting fear and panic within the community.

Every new issue of the newspaper made her heart lurch at the idea of it and soon felt relieved when nothing incriminating could be found.

As she flickered through once more, she noticed another headline – 'Death Eater Severus Snape Spotted at Diagon Alley With Secret Purchases – '

"Ex-Death Eater, you bellend – " Dawn mumbled under her breath. Her eyes darted to the bottom of the tiny article, noticing the infamous reporter's name signed obnoxiously along its edge, "Rita, let the man rest. For goodness sake – "

Dawn was tempted to go after the woman herself, but the last thing she needed, was to earn her own place within the popular newspaper. Her superior would not take kindly to that. That reporter infuriated her to no end. Not only was she quill-happy enough to besmirch Severus Snape's name, and create false scandals on the Potters, but once she sunk her teeth into a subject, she would not rest until she ruined them. She couldn't understand why she was treating war heroes in this way, and she obviously had nothing better to do with her time than to try and tear someone else's reputation down. She already had a hand in ruining Severus' career, and yet, it didn't seem satisfactory enough for her.

Dawn could understand that some still held resentment for him, but this was going much too far.

Throwing the newspaper into the burning fireplace, she exited her quarters and decided to utilize her blank lesson doing her rounds around the castle. She had enough of marking essays on describing Inferi, and she desperately needed to stretch her legs and breathe some fresh air. She didn't like to be cooped up too much in one space, and flexing her limbs proved to be far more invigorating than coffee.

"Miss Brown, why on Earth is your wand tucked behind your ear? Terrible habit – "

"B-but Professor – "

"Five points from Hufflepuff, " Dawns shot the blonde-haired girl a warned look, cutting her off in the midst of protesting, "You should know proper wand etiquette by now."

Dawn strode away, leaving the girl rooted on the spot in astonishment. If it was one thing drilled into her brain during Auror training, was wand etiquette, and she was going to ensure the students were aware of that, too. Most of her class introductions at the start of ear year were spent discussing wand rules and proper handling of a magical tool with the potential to devastate. Watching a student twirl their wand around like a baton was likely to earn them detention and was one of Dawn's many amateur pet peeves.

She continued on her corridor rounds, catching two Slytherins skipping Divination, and managed to spare a further fifteen minutes having tea with Gregory and Aurora in the staff room.

Then she decided to do a lap on the school grounds, taking advantage of this rare sunny day. Eventually, she was confronted by Rubeus who had caught her taking a peaceful well-needed walk outside of the grounds. The look upon his face was sullen as he approached, and behind the mess of a beard, he wore so well, wore a heavy, grave heart.

Something was wrong.

"Righ' 'ere, Dawn."

The Hogwarts Groundskeeper led Dawn silently through the treacherous part of the Forbidden Forest, in a clearing newly burnt and dry. A fresh fire had erupted there and one of the centaurs alerted Rubeus as soon as smoke was spotted. The damage was almost a third of a Quidditch pitch and Rubeus had managed to quickly subdue the fire before alerting the nearest Professor. The ground beneath her shoes crumbled into dust and turned to ash with the fire that destroyed every living thing in vicinity.

In the distance behind the rustling of trees in the afternoon wind, Dawn could hear the soft screeching of the Thestrals who likely became distressed in the event. A flock of ravens fled the area upon their arrival, but aside from those familiar sounds, it was eerily quiet.

Dawn stepped through the charred clearing with her wand outstretched, scanning the ground for any possible cause of the mysterious fire. The charred remains of the poor centaur lay perished in its center. The once beautiful fawn and the white-colored creature were contorted, that which clearly struggled within its unfortunate, yet unusual death. A twisted mass of burnt flesh and bone. The sight alone of a slaughtered creature was not something Dawn was accustomed to.

"It's not far from the school boundary. What was this thing doing this distance from the school? I thought they don't venture this far?" Dawn sternly questioned the half-giant, who loomed beside her.

Rubeus lowered his crossbow, "I don't 'ave a clue. Ilias informed me that Orion seemed spooked by somethin'. He was manic, apparently…deranged. For a centaur, tha' is unheard of. They're usually calm and collective creatures. He fled the herd and the las' thing he saw was smoke. That's when he alerted me."

Dawn frowned, not taking her disgusted gaze away from the burnt carcass. Its flesh was still smoking, and the stench was admittingly stomach-churning, "That is indeed odd. The same thing that happened with the other one."

"That's righ', " Rubeus nodded in agreement, but the poor half-giant appeared rather disturbed with what they were seeing, "I just don't understand what's goin' on. Somethin' is controllin' these creatures, doin' things they don't usually do in their nature. They just don't go off and do things like this."

Dawn placed her hands on her hips, looking sharply back at Rubeus. She was at a loss, "You know these creatures better than I. Something is amiss. I don't do creature investigations – that's not my specialty – but we will get to the bottom of this. Is Minerva aware of this one?"

Rubeus shook his head, "Not yet. She was dealin' with another matter, and I didn't want to disturb her with it."

"Well, " Dawn sighed, turning on the spot to survey the area to ensure she didn't miss anything important within the charred clearing, "Perhaps we should leave this matter between us for now. Dealing with another dead centaur at the school perimeter is something the Headmistress may not want to face just yet. I don't know if you noticed, but she barely stays for the full feast anymore."

Hagrid looked worried, "Yeah, I've been noticin'."

"Perhaps I should consult Albus' portrait privately. He may have some suggestions for us on how to help her, " She turned back to Rubeus, "I'll continue to scout the area. It will take me some time, but I don't want to hold you back for your tasks."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Rubeus."

"Alrigh' then. I'll see ye in the Great Hall later, " Slinging his old wooden crossbow back over his shoulder, Rubeus made his way out of the clearing and disappeared along the darkened path.

Dawn bit her lip, once again surveying the scene around her now that she was alone.

This was indeed odd. And she couldn't help but think back to the ongoing case she was on with her team. There was a familiarity in the presentations of these victims, but she couldn't quite place the connections. Unusual deaths from placid creatures, perishing in twisted ways, almost matching the unusual deaths by the unfortunate Muggleborns and Voldemort opposers.

With her wand clutched within her grasp, she flourished it over the clearing, muttering a string of an incantation under her breath. Strings of light emanated from the ground like smoky tendrils, highlighting the frantic hoofmarks created by the distressed creature, likely moments before its death. The trail of the prints was scattered around, in an ununiformed way. And yet from what she could tell, there was only one set of prints that she could see.

Wandering slowly around the charred remains of this section of the forest, Dawn stopped back at the carcass of the poor centaur. A slow realization crept upon her hardened expression.

Could it be the illusion spell at play here, too? Her frown deepened. It couldn't be. Hagrid saw exactly what she did. And yet nothing here made sense. The creature acted against his will, away from its camp, and close to school grounds. According to the other centaurs, it was unusual.

Somehow that thought alone sent shivers down her spine. There was a strange familiarity with this, and yet she couldn't quite place it. There were elements similar to the case she was currently on, and yet despite some similarities, so much else didn't make much sense.

The creature had set himself alight. Against its nature…He was obviously influenced by something or someone else.

…Had the killer ventured here?

Dawn soon realized things were far more serious than she initially presumed.

April 16th, 2002

[Harry Potter]

Since the passing of Andromeda, Harry had a lot of difficulties focusing. He spent the following days in bed and refusing to leave the comforting confines of his room, sometimes refusing meals, even despite Ginny's best effort to bring them to him. Dazed and torn, he was really struggling with coming to terms with her sudden loss.

Sometimes he felt like the Resurrection Stone was taunting him and driving him mad. It was so close, and it would be so easy…But Ginny's words echoed in the back of his mind and Harry went right back into hating himself again. How simple would it be to pick up the artifact, and simply…wish? The longing for lost loved ones – not just Andromeda – was great. It hurt to think about all that should be here, alive, sharing their lives together. How comforting would it be to have Remus and Dora to be present. Even Sirius' words in such a difficult time could have meant the world. So many gone…so many people who deserved to live. To be there.

The hopeful longing was painful and made the days harder to bear. He was at a loss.

But most of all, he had been shamefully avoiding Teddy for fear of talking about it. Because he knew the moment the child saw Harry, he would further question him about his grandmother's absence. And the thought of having to explain the notion of death again to a four-year-old was close to unbearable.

For someone like Harry, that subject was a sensitive one.

They held Andromeda's funeral that day in Godric's Hollow, burying her beside her husband and daughter. She had specifically requested not to be buried in the Black family cemetery, for good reason, thus burying her with her own family was the best option for her peace of mind. Andromeda had disclosed her wishes and Harry did everything he could to honor it.

The funeral itself was small and intimate. Most of the Weasleys arrived to attend, even Bill and Fleur. Minerva had made a brief appearance, along with Hermione and Luna. Andromeda didn't want a large gathering, and Harry respected that.

Tucked away in the back of the crowd, were Narcissa and Draco, shrouded in their outcasted and now secluded lives. Alongside Draco was a younger woman, caressing his hand tenderly and adorned in a simple black dress. Harry was able to notice the subtle gleam of a ring upon her finger, wondering who the mysterious woman was. There was a familiarity to her, but he couldn't quite recall. Narcissa herself stood rooted to the spot, clutching a small, laced handkerchief within her hand and averting her saddened gaze away from the curious onlookers. But the Malfoys did not remain for the full service, thus leaving before drawing too much attention to themselves.

But Teddy was the most heartbreaking of all – At several times, Teddy would call out to Andromeda halfway through the service, in hopes to wake her up. Ushering the child several times throughout, Harry had to summon all of his effort not to break down as he did so. The child was too young to truly understand and yet Harry had to somehow find the courage to remain strong for him.

When Andromeda's marble stone coffin disappeared into the ground, Teddy started crying in all of his confusion. He was quite evidently frightened as to what was happening, thus the Potters decided to head home as soon as the service finished. Molly herself had lightly suggested for them to visit the Burrow to decompress, but Harry's heart would not have been able to tolerate it.

Teddy continued to cry even upon arriving home and despite Ginny's attempts to console him, nothing seemed to calm the young boy down. No toy piano or pygmy puff was going to lift his spirits. Or even Teddy's favorite chocolate frogs.

Amidst his own quiet anguish, Harry eventually summoned up the courage and approached Teddy within his room that evening, who was now curled up in bed with his owl toy hugged tightly against his chest. Closing the door gently behind him, Harry lit the candle at the child's bedside with his wand and sat on the edge of the bed. Initially, Teddy pouted, ignoring Harry's obvious worry.

Reaching out to place a hand on the child's arm, Harry spoke gently, "There is something I need to talk to you about, and it's important for you to understand. Big boy stuff."

Teddy turned his head at Harry with a small frown, but the child was still in some confusion. Eventually, he nodded and sat upright on his bed. Contemplating for a few moments, Harry kicked off his shoes and threw himself under the covers allowing Teddy to rest up against him as if Harry was about to read him a bedtime story. He only wished he was here to tell him as such because it would have been far easier than what he was about to explain.

He knew he had a conversation with Teddy similar to this one, but it was only until the funeral did Harry feel the need to reiterate and explain it again to the child.

Holding Teddy close, Harry drew in a deep breath, "This is going to be very hard to explain because it's complicated and you'll understand it more as you get older. But it's important you know what happened today, and why your grandmother is not here anymore – " He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, staring off at the large portrait of a Quidditch pitch on the far wall, " - So, she got really sick, as you know. And when someone gets really sick, sometimes they can't be healed. So, they…die."

Teddy's frown deepened in confusion. A frown that was so very Remus-like, that it almost caught him off guard.

Harry continued slowly, doing his best to simplify it for a child. He didn't realize how difficult this was until he attempted it and he knew it sounded far easier in his head, "It means their body can't work and so they can't be with us anymore. Today was what is called a funeral. It means we gather everyone who knew them and honor the life they lived. Death can be really sad, and it can hurt living without them for a little while. But it's a normal part of life."

The child tilted his head to the side, blinking heavily, "Where did she go?"

Harry bit his lip, trying to think of ways to explain without mentioning his version of Kings Cross station. That alone left Harry with far more questions than it did answers, especially because it was one thing, he was unsure of, himself. "No one really knows. It's another place people go when they leave us."

"Will we go one day?"

"Someday. But it's not our time, Teddy. We just have to keep going with each day and keep them in our hearts and memories. We keep loving them, even when they are no longer here."

"Like mommy and daddy?"

Harry nodded, brushing his hand over the child's hair, "Yeah. Like your mum and dad."

"And yours, too?"

Harry gave a choked breath, not expecting that answer at all. "Yeah, like mine. They are all together, and one day, we'll see them again. I'm sure of it."

Teddy gave a big innocent smile, but Harry knew he did not fully understand the concept just yet. It was difficult for Harry to explain the notion of death to a young child, but even more confusing for said child to understand. Harry figured maybe he would learn it best when he grew older, but the thought of leaving Teddy confused as to what truly happened broke his heart. Teddy would never completely understand why Andromeda left them and that left a void he simply could not fill.

After telling him stories of his parents again in order to help him feel further at ease, the child soon fell asleep and Harry slipped out of the room quietly. He soon entered his own room and wriggled into his pajamas with Ginny already settled in and watching her husband rather worriedly. Harry took four drops of the elixir and crawled in bed beside her holding her tightly against him in comfort, feeling the gentle interlocking of their fingers. He felt her thumb softly rubbing against his own in reassurance. The touch alone was enough to ground him, and it was something he needed to prevent his mind from drifting away again.

"What do we do, Ginny?" Harry finally spoke, rather feebly, feeling his own throat dry and scratchy.

"Harry, I'm going to have to reduce my gameplay next season, or at least skip a few matches – "

"- Ginny, no."

Ginny's big hazel eyes blinked back at him, "What else can we do? Teddy needs us and I can't be away playing Quidditch of all things."

"That's not fair on you. New school term starts this September and I'll be away."

Ginny tenderly stroked the arm wrapped around her, "We'll make it work. You can still visit on the weekends and vice versa. He's four now, so it's not like he's an infant. You have another year until you gain full teaching qualifications and I want you to finish it. Alright?"

Feeling very unsure of himself, Harry held Ginny tighter, "I-I don't know, Ginny."

Ginny glanced into his eyes, causing Harry to avert them almost immediately. After a few silent moments passed, she shuffled upwards out of his embrace and leaned over to plant a small kiss on Harry's cheek. She held his face gently, soon planting another onto his lips. Harry was distracted by his wife's concerned frown and knew full well she was worried about him. There was never a time when she wasn't, and Ginny invested so much of it into keeping Harry at ease.

Harry knew he still had periods where he struggled, but Ginny became his anchor on those darker days being the one to pull him back in all of her protectiveness and devotion. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and yet he still had trouble expressing that sometimes. But Ginny knew that already and would always be patient with him. She was the one who sat with him through his storms, and the one to pull him back into the light. She was always supportive and patient with him, until he'd gradually regain his own inner courage once again.

For now, he simply couldn't do this alone.

With Ginny's soft touch, his lips melted with hers, running his hands through her long red hair and holding her with all the care and delicateness in the world.

They'll be okay.

With her, he will be.

April 25th, 2002

[Severus Snape]

"Severus…Severus, please…We're friends."

"Severus, please."

"Severus….please."

Charity. Narcissa. Albus.

He let Lily down. He let Harry down.

All because of his stupidity. His carelessness. His anger.

He remembered that fateful, dark night. That night he collapsed with inconsolable grief.

That Halloween night when Lily had died was the darkest he had ever endured, and it was one he felt he was never going to make it through with a still beating heart. The weight of that grief felt like a heavy stone plummeting into the deepest depths of the unforgiving seas, unwavering in its relentlessness to pin you down beneath the surface. His legs did not feel like his own as they gave way beneath, unable to bear the weight of his own defeated, worthless body.

He remembered not being able to breathe, and he had to force himself to a window just to allow oxygen to reach him.

He remembered feeling as if he was drowning. The crushing force of his lungs trying to expand felt like he was knocked out cold by some looming entity. He could barely speak, barely think…His main focus was only on Lily and how he failed her. His life at that moment was worthless and he would have given anything to sacrifice his own soul for hers. At that moment, he would have gladly traded his life for hers, for his own meant nothing. A waste of space. An unworthy soul not deserving to live beyond the mistake that would forever blacken his soul.

He remembered wailing in his own seclusion and feeling thankful no Hogwarts ghost was intruding on his suffering on that terrible night.

He remembered waking up on the cold stone floor the following morning after her death, feeling his throat hoarse and raw from the grief that took hold of him that night. He barely even remembered the moment Albus had told him about the attack – everything to that point now seemed like a horrid blur. A suffocating nightmare.

He barely remembered Rubeus arriving with baby Harry in tow.

Lily's son. Her only child.

Oh, he failed her. He knew he failed her again.

Sometimes it hurts, still. It hurts so much that he felt like his chest will cave in and the only thing stopping it are the gasps of air he took in between the tears. The guilt still tore him piece by agonizing piece, even all those years ago.

And now, he failed him, too.

He failed Harry, just like he did with Lily.

Severus barely slept since the night after he fought with Harry. Not that he did much anyway. With each unbearable hour, he turned back to the comforting whiskey to dull down his erratic emotions and his senses. Feeling was too much at this point because he had far too much hate for himself within his own heart from how he blew up in a fit of old, untameable anger. One he thought he had under control.

Over the following days since the argument, he blamed Harry less and himself far more than he ever felt possible. At one point he even considered picking up his quill to send a letter but soon realized how pathetic he was to do so as such a useless gesture. Harry would never accept it after he threw him out of his home unable to cope with himself.

Fool.

Severus couldn't even bring himself to blame Harry this time. If at all this was ten years ago, he would have in a heartbeat, and with his own sadistic satisfaction. Now if anything he was angry at himself for his own angered outburst, knowing full well that this was his own fault this time. Now he hurt yet another important person in his life, and he'd be full of shame should he face him again.

Teddy's pained, wailed cries reverberated within his mind constantly since that day.

What the hell was he thinking?

He didn't realize what he was doing until it was too late. Teenagers he could deal with, but a young child was far beyond him. A child whom he still harbored some unnecessary disdain given who his father was, and it took him such great effort to avoid treating him the same as he did with Harry all those years ago. Children should never be held accountable for the sins of their fathers. Severus was aware of that now and wanted to do everything in his power to avoid history repeating itself. But some lessons need repeating, even for someone as hurt as Severus was.

There had to be more to this rough-edged life. However did he allow himself to fall so far again? He was supposed to be rebuilding a life for himself. Instead, he let himself go, not knowing how to make anything better. He had given up hope again. He was sick of his life remaining at a standstill without purpose, and the more sickened he was with himself, the more appealing the Hogwarts job acceptance was. After all, it may help him to regain some lost clarity again and forge himself some measure of good in the miserable existence he led for the past four years since the War's end.

He was sick of disappointing all those around him, especially Harry. Only he mattered. And that hurt him deeply. Yet again, he ruined things between them.

Severus was utterly repulsed with himself.

These days, it felt like living with a Dementor of his own making; absorbing whatever life was left of his soul. All he could remember were the nights his father's own drunken breath loomed over his own huddled, young form. The man's whip sent shockwaves and the sound alone was enough to frighten him senseless. Even still to this day, those sounds sent him into a panic, causing nightmares and sending him right back into his grim childhood once again.

And yet in that terrible moment, he became him. The very figure he loathed and still feared within the small child still huddled within the shadows in the back of his own mind. The child crying for comfort or affection in some form.

The days rolled by so slowly with each agonizing tick of his wooden clock and even glancing back at the colorful mess Harry's godchild had made for him, sent him to remember how he hurt them all over again. It took him a while to properly look at it once the burning of self-hatred died down and left him with a dull, bleeding emptiness. The picture, made by Lupin junior, was composed of a few stick figures of the three of them. Severus' rendition was black of course, wearing a scribbled mess of a cloak, with Teddy and Harry beside him. Teddy was drawn with his hair a bright aqua – what he was told by Harry was his favorite color. Harry's obnoxiously thick black glasses were almost as big as his head, and if Severus wasn't already feeling wretched with himself, he would have found that ironically amusing. Above the stick figures, were explosions of color much like Teddy's toy piano was making those weeks ago. Harry must have procured a charm to animate it, because the flashes of rainbow light glittered within the picture like small fireworks.

Severus had left the crinkled parchment rolled up atop the kitchen counter next to the now empty glass of whiskey. Now, he couldn't even bear to look at it again.

But all he could think about was Harry's words rumbling within his mind growing angrier with each verbal lash. And he deserved every single one of them. Perhaps he was correct that he was unable to construct his new creation because the whiskey was clouding his thought process. His mind. He was rather offended by that initially, but the more time he had to overthink, the worse of it he felt.

How could he? He didn't know where to begin. The anniversary of the Hogwarts battle loomed closer, and all he could think about was it being his fault yet again. He thought of many reasons why it was, even despite how foolish they all sounded. All he knew was that it was his fault and only he could take the blame. All those lives he failed to save, all because of the damn mission which consumed his life. Because he could only hurt himself more, so no one else would have to, anymore.

…Oh, Albus. All of this ruined me…I should have died that day…It would have been far easier for us all...

Dying that day would have been a blissful reprieve. He wouldn't have had anyone to mourn him, or cry over his loss when no one else bothered when he would have been alive. He could have been dead, and no longer have to worry about picking up the pieces of a war that left him so damaged beyond repair.

He couldn't be saved – it just wasn't worth it, just to hurt others again.

He just didn't know who he was anymore.

And that frightened him senseless.

With his wand shakily within his hand, he shut his eyes tightly willing himself to remember…Remember the last Christmas he and Lily shared before their fateful journey to Hogwarts. Their innocent exchange of gifts, and their seemingly endless helpings of hot cocoa with cinnamon. Before the time came for them to be separated by House and prejudice. Before their respective friends took them on very different paths. Before darkness enveloped his life. Before it all went so horribly wrong.

"Expecto patronum…" His trembling, hoarse breath ushered the words he hadn't spoken for so long. The words that were able to conjure the small light that was still so buried deep within himself. The light, as a physical manifestation of those rare, happy memories on that Christmas day, brought forth the beautiful silver doe. The one thing that truly meant anything within his miserable life.

The one reminder of why he did so much for the Order…For Harry…For the Wizarding World…For her…

Severus hardly took notice of the single tear trailing down, as he fell to his knees. The silver doe softly glided around him, like a floating cloud, extending its silver snout in affection to his hunched-over form. His unwashed hair obscured his face, but the doe knew. The doe knew what the tears were. His internal struggle to keep that one good, blissfully happy memory alight was an agonizing effort. His soul was tired. Burnt.

He was losing all hope for himself, but he did not want that one single memory to fade. He couldn't bear to lose it.

"Lily…I ruined…everything – " Severus choked through the words, thankful for the solitude he was able to share to express his pain. His owl Onyx preened its dark feathers quietly in the corner, with its own amber eyes blinking heavily at the broken wizard on the floor.

He glanced up with watery eyes, clouding his vision. But all he could see was that beautiful light before him. It didn't feel real. He didn't deserve it. The doe was a representation of such an innocent childhood before Hogwarts, and yet here it was now taunting with a long-dead period of his life. A life he wished he could relive for another day.

But the light – no matter what it represented, or how little it was – kept him alive. It kept him going. Just as the same light of the doe comforted Harry and kept him alive in the tunnels at the quarry.

If he lost the doe, he may very well just lose himself.

Completely.