Harry Potter stood quietly by the edge of the Astronomy Tower, trying to feel alive for once in this miserable year. His eyes were dry from the icy chill and the light breeze, and his face was cold and his lips chapped. He felt dead inside.

So many people had died because of him, his parents, Cedric, Sirius, even Alice and Frank Longbottom had been tortured into complete insanity because of the damned prophecy. He pulled up his sleeves, holding a small knife, and poised it above his arm. The sharp point of the knife slid gracefully into the skin, causing Harry to breathe sharply as his knife slid in farther than ever before. As it did so, a bead of blood flowed out of the cut to surround the blade, and Harry pulled the knife down, slicing his skin in a surgically precise measure of calm and a whish to feel. As he added a small cut to the myriad of scars covering his forearms, he felt the relief of the pain, and when he did so, he reminded himself of all he had lost, and how it had all been his fault. He leaned into the wind that was blowing onto the Astronomy Tower, and felt it hold him up. But not for long, he would be sure to soon end it all.

Suddenly, a song whispered its way up to him.

The music was beautiful and touching, holding Harry’s heart in its hands. The Boy-Who-Lived found the knife had fallen off of the tower, and he had floated, not literally, but he had left his cares behind and felt much better now. He slowly walked down the stairs, clutching the railing for support.

He had heard where the music had come from, and had entered a room where he saw Professor Snape, gently stirring a cauldron and murmuring in the same soothing language under his breath. Harry felt taken away again, and closed his eyes, allowing the sensation of peace and forgiveness to overwhelm him.

“Potter, what are you doing here?!” Snape snarled at him, not stopping his precise stirring.

“Sir… your song. It… it… I couldn’t… I wasn’t—guilty, I suppose I should say.”

“Stop stammering, Potter! What do you mean?”

“The song soothed me, and I… I was ready to-to jump, and your song-it kept me from jumping from the Astronomy Tower.”

“Hmmm. Well, I’m glad that I kept the Boy Wonder from killing himself. Come here.” Snape turned and conjured something. It was a hexagonally faceted crystal, flat on the bottom and tapering to a six-sided point on the top. It was attached to a long black cord by a golden snake, and he tapped the crystal necklace before beginning to sing softly.

Snape continued to sing for quite a while and suddenly stopped, leaving Harry in his trance-like state. He could forget that he was the Boy-Who-Just-Would-Not-Die, he could forget all of the pain and pressure he had on him when Snape was singing the beautiful music. It was the religious language, he surmised, because he had never felt so free of cares and pain before.

“Potter, come here. This is yours, take it. When you say the word ‘Canto’ it will play for you, but only you will be able to hear it. Use it wisely, Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Harry placed the cord around his neck.

:Hello, young one. You are new here!: The voice was in Parseltongue, and Harry looked up.

“The snake can speak to you. I would suggest telling it your problems, as it would be unwise for the Wizarding World to place its fate in the hands of a rather unbalanced teenager. Now leave.” Snape turned back to the potion, and continued to stir. Harry smiled slightly, and whispered “Canto” to the pendant, and it began to play, soothing Harry and sending his worries far away. “Mr. Potter,” Snape snapped, “when did you last eat?”

“Er… about three days ago. I forgot when I did.”

“Come with me.” Snape extinguished the flame beneath his caldron, and led Harry to the kitchens, where he hit the pear with a tickling charm, and entered.

“What would Master Snape want?” a House-Elf said giddily.

“A bowl of chicken soup, a platter of unbuttered rolls, a plate of mixed vegetables, and some plain, cooked egg noodles.” The order came up within seconds, and Severus watched Harry very closely while the boy ate as much as he could. “Potter!” Snape snarled, gripping Harry’s left arm. He yanked the robes up, baring the forearm. “Finish your meal. Clausus!” Severus pointed his wand at Harry’s cut, and it sealed without a blemish. “Why?”

“Why what? Why have I stopped eating? Why was I about to commit suicide? Why am I cutting myself?”

“Yes, Potter.” Snape’s voice was surprisingly gentle, and Harry took a bite of a roll.

“Sirius. Cedric. Mum and Dad. The Longbottoms. Everyone who has died, or gotten hurt, because of me.”

“Mei Deus,” Severus cursed. “What about those you’ve saved? You did not mean to get them killed; in fact you had nothing to do with the Longbottoms! If I understand correctly, you stopped Quirell from killing anyone, saved the Weasley girl’s life in Slytherin’s secret chamber, you stopped the petrifactions, you kept an innocent man from being kissed, you warned the Wizarding world of the Dark Lord’s return, you stopped Him from hearing the full prophecy, and many other accomplishments. How can you say that you get anyone killed?”

“If I had studied in Occlumen—”

“Don’t be stupid, boy! Anyone can be fooled by the Dark Lord!”

“I… thank you.”

“Go on to bed, and here. This is a dreamless sleep potion.” Snape handed him a vial of a bright purple potion.

OoOoOoO

Harry often used the pendant to try to go to sleep at night, and soon found himself taking his meals with Severus.

“So, Harry, how was your day?” Severus asked.

“Well. Professor McGonagall was surprised that I’m able to concentrate now!” Harry cried.

“Because of the food, or the sleep that you’re getting?” Severus asked, pushing the platter of green beans towards the boy. Harry took a healthy helping of them, finding that he liked them quite a bit.

“Both, I think. Thank you, Professor.”

“Harry, while we’re alone, my name is Severus.”

“Thank you, Pro… Severus.”

OoOoOoO

By the end of the year, Harry had stopped cutting himself, and had stopped thinking about suicide. The end of the year also brought Voldemort to Hogwarts, and Harry decapitated the snake-hybrid with the Sword of Gryffindor. During the battle with Voldemort, Harry had listened to the crystal pendant, and was soothed and his sense of righteous anger was heightened, so that he created a new spell.

“Potter,” Voldemort hissed. The pendant sang gently in the background.

“Riddle. However did you expect to leave the field, Tom?” Harry asked. He was fingering one of the jewels in Gryffindor’s sword.

“The same way you will not. By killing you.”

“No. Agnosco huic furor!” Harry cried. Voldemort was swept by a wave of brilliant white light. As he did so, Harry heard the pendant’s music explode in volume. The smooth, Latin syllables Snape was singing soothed Harry’s mind, as did the knowledge that Snape had helped him, and he looked at Riddle. Voldemort was standing in the light, his eyes half-closed in a lethargic trance.

:Strike, Harry! Strike now!: the snake holding the pendant hissed in Parseltongue. Harry lifted the blade, and swung it towards the neck of the human-snake hybrid, and swiftly beheaded him.

The white light surrounding Voldemort suddenly erupted with a force of a volcano, and Harry felt swept away by the sense of righteousness and peace that emanated from it.

Screams were filling the battlefield, and Harry turned to see people falling to their knees and being incinerated on the spot, all Death Eaters. The only Death Eater not to be turned to ashes was Professor Snape.

Harry let the memories go, and turned to follow his new guardian back into Prince Manor. “Come, son, let’s go in.” Severus led him in, and Harry’s new life was begun.