There is a difference between fables, legends, myths, and fairy tales. Legends are stories that are believed to be true, despite a lack of evidence. An example of this is the old story of Halloween candy laced with poison. Fables always have a clear moral, such as in The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Myths are man's attempt to explain the world, and to give life to his gods.

But fairy tales are simply wonder stories. They have no morals, they explain nothing except our desire for fantasy and beauty. Sometimes they end happily. Other times, tragically.

And here, dear readers, I present to you two endings to this tale. One happy, one tragic:


Blue Beard bawled out so loud that he made the whole house tremble. His distressed wife came down, and threw herself at his feet, all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders.

Blue Beard said, "You must die!" Then, taking hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up the sword with the other, he prepared to strike off her head. The poor lady, turning about to him, and looking at him with dying eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to recollect herself.

"No, no," said he, "commend yourself to God," and was just ready to strike.


"What are you doing?" Regulus asked when he saw Severus with his wand out. He flicked his wand, tearing at the remaining bricks, and he was surprised at how easy it was, how the mortar crumbled beneath the weight of his magic.

"You think I'm just going to stand around and wait for someone to 'win' me?" Severus sneered as he sent several bricks scattering across the floor.

"But… you're the bride," Regulus said, his voice tinged with confusion. Severus snorted. He wasn't going to stand prettily off to the side and leave everything to Lily. Ha! He wasn't pretty, and he was no one's princess. More bricks fell and Severus peeked inside the large hole he had made.

"Hello?" He called out, hearing what sounded like sniffling to him.

He could barely see a pale figure sitting in a corner, hunched over and gripping her knees. She looked up at the sound of Severus's voice and he could see blossoms had been woven into her hair.

She looked like him. He recognized those same eyes that stared back at him from mirrors.

"Give me your hand," he said and reached down.

The woman looked hesitant at first, but then she was all but flinging herself into Severus's arms. As he helped drag her from that little room, her body grew heavy and stiff. Her arms were no longer wrapped around his neck, but curled into her chest, withered and grey. The blossoms had crumbled into dust and her eyes – Severus's eyes – were hollow.

He felt Regulus grab him by the back of his robe. "Help me pull her out," he demanded, but it wasn't Regulus's voice that responded.

"I'm sorry, this isn't what I wanted," the Headmaster said and Severus whipped his head around to look up. Dumbledore had him by the back of his robe, his wand was raised, and he vaguely heard Lily scream as a flash of white filled his vision.

It was the other bride, the one Severus had summoned, and there was her father rushing forward. The Minoan came too, and in her hands were two writhing snakes, followed by the Cybele priest.

Dumbledore backed up as the ghosts pressed in all around them, the air turning ice cold as the spirits of Severus's ancestors surrounded them. Severus felt the corpse in his arms shift, the creaking of frozen, withered joints bending as the woman swiveled her head to stare at the Headmaster with her hollow eyes. She pulled herself out of Severus's arms, a single mummified hand, missing one of its fingers, stretched outward toward him. The Headmaster loosened his grip and Severus slipped free.

"No!"

Severus did it on instinct, fueled only by his desire to watch this place burn, as he lifted up his hand and with a pulse of magic brought one of the columns crashing down between himself and the Headmaster. Dumbledore barely managed to dodge it, stumbling right into the clawing hands of the shambling corpse. He shouted, sending out a burst of flame to shake the creature off of him, but she kept coming, her jagged nails tearing into his robes and the flesh beneath it.

"Sev!"

Lily was pulling him up, and there was Potter hefting an unconscious Regulus across his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The terrible crashing had grown louder and Lily had to scream to be heard over the roaring cannonade. "We've got to get out of here or we'll be buried alive!"

He grabbed Severus's hand, and Severus looked over his shoulder one final time to see the shimmery form of the Headmaster between the moving bodies of the ghosts that encircled him and the grey-skinned corpse bride as they tumbled together into the dark hole Severus had pulled her out of.

They climbed out of the dungeons and were immediately swept up in the flood of students surging through the halls in a desperate attempt to reach the exits. "Keep order! Do not panic!" McGonagall's voice echoed with the effects of the sonorous charm. He squeezed Lily's hand to keep from being separated.

The bright sunlight blinded him as he pulled free of the school's shadow, and he felt Lily pull him to the side, away from the crush of children. Severus turned and saw several towers had already collapsed. The roof of Ravenclaw Tower had fallen into the sea and the Astronomy Tower was lying in Black Lake.

The professors were trying to take a headcount. "Is that everyone? Did we get all the students?" Slughorn was asking as he ran through the lines of crying children, taking note of each Slytherin and, upon finding one, sending them in the direction of an oak tree by the lake where the Slytherin prefects were arranging themselves into groups by year. Severus saw the other Heads doing the same with their students. "Anyone missing?"

"Rosier!" Severus suddenly shrieked and let go of Lily's hand as he ran up to him. "Rosier was in the Headmaster's office!"

"He's safe, he's over there with the rest of the sixth years. Professor McGonagall found him when she went searching for the Headmaster." Slughorn turned away then and called out, "Has anyone seen Headmaster Dumbledore–? Oh, Mr Potter! Madame Pomfrey come quick! It's Regulus Black!"

Potter set Black on the ground and after taking a few seconds to look him over, Madame Pomfrey declared he was fine. "Knocked out by a Stunner," she said, and then she rounded on Potter, "Fighting in the corridors again were you!"

Potter, his face ashen, eyes blown wide behind his glasses, looked at Severus. What must be going through his mind, trying to reconcile what he had seen Dumbledore try to do with the kindly grandfather he had always presented himself to be. His baleful eyes were beseeching, asking Severus, what do I do? What do I say? Severus looked away. It wasn't his problem anymore. Potter was not his husband, he would never be his husband no matter how many "sorrys" he said. The bond was gone, the emptiness inside him felt peaceful. Voices raised up in shouts and screams as another wall collapsed in on itself.

Lily was glaring at Potter and he took hold of Severus's hand again, pulling him further away from the crowd. Severus walked a few more feet before slumping onto the ground with a lot less grace than he intended, his legs suddenly feeling like jelly. His magic was his own again – more than just his magic, there was something greater, something deeper inside of him now – and the sudden access to all that power made him a little delirious.

Lily kept a hand braced on his shoulder to prevent him from falling onto his side and sat down next to him. "Are you free?" He asked.

Severus couldn't help but grin and nodded. "I don't know what we're going to do about the Dark Lord though," he said.

"We'll figure it out," Lily insisted. "There are lots of powerful wizards and witches out there. The whole world doesn't stop turning just because Dumbledore is dead."

Severus eyed Lily. "You kissed me," he said. "Right before you dueled Potter. You kissed me."

"Yeah, I did," Lily said and neither of them said anything for a moment, but after a beat Lily asked, "This might be a bad time to ask this, but do you want to go out sometime?"

"On a date?"

"Yeah, on a date."

"You know you don't have to. I'm free now, there's nothing for you to rescue me from."

"Sev, I want to date you. I want you."

Severus had to fight to keep the smile from spreading across his face as he watched the giant squid swim through debris. "Alright," he said, trying to keep cool, but from the sly grin on Lily's face he knew he had failed miserably. "You still need a new name, you know. Have you thought of one?"

"No, I can't decide. I've been Lily for so long, it's hard to be anything else. Any ideas?"

Severus thought for a moment. "What about Liam? It's short for William. It means 'protector.'"


The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince's breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam.


"I'm sorry, this isn't what I wanted," the Headmaster said and Severus whipped his head around to look up. Dumbledore had him by the back of his robe, his wand was raised, and he vaguely heard Lily scream.

He didn't feel any pain and the bride's arms were warm when they wrapped around his shoulders. They fell together, into the darkness.


Lily awoke the next morning, her head aching, and she had to struggle to climb out of bed. She tugged on her uniform, snapping her skirt closed and running her fingers through her too-short hair. Her mother was going to kill her. What was she thinking, cutting it this short? Still… Lily looked at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't bring herself to regret it even knowing the grief she'll get come summer. She liked the way she looked with her hair short, face free of make-up. She looked boyish. Men don't marry tomboys, her mother once said, spitting the word tomboy like it was something shameful.

Lily painted her face and ran down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Her eyes slid over toward the Slytherin table, landing on an empty seat near the end. Regulus Black caught her gaze and scowled at her, and Lily turned up her nose. James and Sirius were right. She had never met a good Slytherin. She didn't know why her eyes kept drifting over to their table, like she was searching for something she couldn't name.

She slid into the seat next to James, who smiled at her, his arm coming around to wrap around her back. Lily couldn't help but feel pleased at the approving looks their classmates sent them. They really did make the perfect couple.

"You know, I'm starting to like your new haircut," James said. "Really brings out your large, black eyes."

Lily snorted. "Do you need your prescription checked? My eyes are green, Potter."

"Right, right. Green. What'd I say?"

She flicked a roll at him.


"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" Malfoy sneered

"You're a lot braver now that you're on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you at the Dueling Ground. It's in the dungeons, past the potions classroom, down a flight of stairs. You'll feel it when you get to it."

Malfoy was right. Harry could feel it the closer he got to the room. He couldn't describe it exactly, the strange feeling that rested deep within his chest. The best he could come up with is the pressure one feels when they know they've done something wrong and the guilt is eating them alive. He looked at Ron's face, and Neville's and Hermione's– they were all pale and terrified of some unknown thing. "We should go back," Hermione kept repeating. "We're going to get in trouble."

The door was flanked by two wood carvings of women, crushed beneath the pillars they were desperately trying to hold up. He opened the door and the moment he stepped inside, the torches lining the walls lit up. He could see strange symbols carved onto the floor and above him was a vaulted ceiling. Like the Great Hall, it too appeared to be enchanted, but instead of showing the sky it revealed only a ruined castle.

"Do you hear that?" Ron's breath hitched in his throat, whirling around to peek outside the door. "I think Filch and Black are on their way! We need to hide!"

Harry ignored him and walked deeper into the Chamber, drawn for some unknown reason to a back wall that the light couldn't touch. A few bricks were scattered across the floor, recently fallen if Harry had to guess from the disturbed dust. His eyes drifted to where they had fallen from, to a hole in the wall. There was only inky blackness and Harry wondered if there might be another room lying just beyond it, when a pale hand, slim and long-fingered, emerged from the darkness.