"But there is suffering in life, and there are defeats.  No one can avoid them.  But it is better to lose some of the battles in the struggles for your dreams than to be defeated without ever knowing what you're fighting for."

-Paulo Coelho

"Dad!" I call out from down the hallway as I walk towards the familiar figure of my father.  "What are you doing here?"

I don't know why I asked that-the answer is quite obvious. 

Still, Dad replies, "Al, you know I need to make amends with-"

"Dad, he's not ready yet!  Really, I think you need to go home.  You didn't hear him a few days ago when George came to visit-"

"Albus!" he exclaims, grabbing one of my shoulders and looking rather exasperated with me, "I know what I'm doing, son!  You're going to have to trust me for once, okay?"

I look Dad straight in the eye and speak rather bluntly, "Dad, you're going to be hurt if you go in there."

I beg him with my eyes to stay out of room 136.  I hate seeing him that way-I want to take care of him and make sure he's all right, and this is not conducive to his recovery!

He's got a defiant glint in his eyes though, which tells me he has made up his mind.  I sigh and watch him enter room 136, determined to try and make things right, no matter what the cost.  I wait outside the door, only to have him come back to me a moment later.

"He's sleeping; I'm going to pull up a chair and wait until he wakes..." Dad starts, then suddenly gets an odd look on his face.  I'm not sure if it's confusion or pain, but when his hand clasps his forehead, I know that something is wrong.

Immediately, my hands are on his shoulders and I bring him into the room and sit him down in the corner armchair. 

"Dad, what's wrong?" I ask gently.  My fear permeates into my voice even though I try my best to disguise it.  "Is it a headache?"

Or...what if it's something worse?

"Is it your scar?" I whisper, not even wanting to think about what connotations that might have.

"I'm not sure...quite what it is," Dad answers slowly.  He sounds like he's in pain.

I don't want him to suffer.  "Stay right here.  I'll go get you a Headache Draught."

As I walk down the hall, I see Vivian.  She doesn't even look at me.  Damn it all, I've really done a number on us this time.  I hadn't realized exactly how much time we spent together until she started avoiding me.  Now, I just really wish I could take back everything I said so I could talk to her.

Feeling sorry for myself, I quickly stride into the nurse's station and fill out the correct paperwork for a Headache Draught.  I'm really not supposed to treat visitors, so I write down that it's for myself; this place certainly does give me plenty of headaches!

I head back to room 136, only to hear angry voices arguing within it.  Surprisingly, neither of these voices belongs to my father.

"-no, she still hasn't bloody well come to visit me; she's too fucking busy to come-"

"If you were a little kinder, Ron, I think she'd be willing to come and see you more often-"

The voices stop as I enter the room.  Uncle Ron looks rather grouchy that I came through the door.  Uncle Percy, on the other hand, always looks grouchy and looks at me down his nose and through his glasses, which are situated at the bottom of his nose.

Dad and I both think those glasses make him look like a snobby old librarian.  He doesn't help matters any by acting like one, either.

I look over to the chair my Dad was in and am astonished to find it empty.  Where did he go?  He was in pain and I told him to stay right there! 

Feeling concerned, I look at Percy and ask, "Where did my dad go?"

"Harry?" Percy questions.  "I haven't seen him today; have you, Ron?"

"No, and I had better not," Uncle Ron replies, snarky as ever.

"But he was just here-I just left him in this chair a minute ago," I say, pointing at the armchair in the corner.  Did he decide to just go home or something?  He always tells me when he's leaving...

"He wasn't there when I arrived, Albus," Percy replies.  "He's probably off wandering the halls, looking for you."

I nod at him, too deep in thought to answer.  I turn away and walk down the hallway, glancing into rooms to see if he might have wandered into one.  He's not there, nor is he in the kitchen or either lounge area. 

Then, right when I'm about to panic, I decide that I do indeed know where my father is.  He's always been one to end up in places where he doesn't belong and I am almost 100 percent certain I'll find him in room 174.

I quickly sprint down the corridor to the Death Eater's room, but stop outside of it when I hear voices within.  I am reassured by the lack of curses flying from the room and stop outside the half-open door to listen.

"-isn't possible...  I saw you die for fuck's sake!"

"Looks can be deceiving, Potter-you of all people ought to know that by now."

"But you-"

"Potter, do you have any idea how many idiots I saw the Dark Lord sic that bloody snake on?  What kind of moron do you think I am?  I carried an antidote on me at all times!  It was only a matter of time before I would end up on the receiving end-" 

"You were dead though!  I saw you breathe your last breath; I saw you die!  You were lying there dead in a coffin even-what the hell do you call that?"

"Acting.  Oh, and I polyjuiced a dead wizard in the tunnel to look like me for the funeral."

"Polyjuice doesn't last that-"

"Mine does, Potter!  I'll have you know, I have made numerous contributions to my field over the years and would appreciate if you didn't question my obvious intelligence!"

I find myself leaning against the wall beside the open door as I listen to Severus Snape's biting retorts.  Overwhelmed by this new reality, I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor beside one of the yellow linen hampers.

My dad sounds like he's in shock as well.  "You...do you know who it was?"

"Who?"

"The person you polyjuiced into yourself."

"No."

"Don't you think that's cruel?  The family of that person would have never found the body!  They'd never know for sure if he or she was really dead!"

"Belt up, Potter!  That was years ago-I'm sure they aren't still searching now!"

"Why did you do it anyway?  I know I would have rather known you were alive in the end.  Minerva could have really used your help-"

"-which is exactly why I didn't want to go back!  I couldn't bear another minute in that hellhole!"

"Professor-" 

"Don't call me that!  I never wanted to be one and I never even tried to do the job well!  I was under contract, Potter, and would have needed to spend another two hellish years there if I was ‘alive.' It was much more convenient to be dead!"

"But what if Voldemort hadn't died?"

"Then I would have ‘magically reappeared' alive.  I had to trust you for once, despite the fact that it went against all of my instincts!  Luckily for me, you actually pulled it off!"

I roll my eyes at this.  He does sound exactly like I had always imagined him sounding.  Part of me wants to go in there and be a part of the talk, but the other half of me wonders if they'd really talk about everything I'd like to hear if I was present.  After considering this for a moment, I decide to hang outside and eavesdrop.

"I just...I can't believe it's really you..." I hear my dad stutter.  "I-What happened to your nose?  You don't even look like yourself anymore."

"That would be the first thing you noticed, wouldn't it Potter?  I fixed it, obviously.  I made a potion that softens the bones in the nose for a few minutes.  It allowed me to reshape it before it hardened-it was experimental at the time, but clearly worked much better than even I anticipated."

"That's very...impressive.  Have you shared that with other people?  I imagine it could help loads with people who have been in both physical and magical accidents."

"Ha!  I'm one step ahead of you, as usual, Potter!  Upon the time of my death, I have charmed a book filled with my discoveries and notes to appear in London's most prestigious lab of potion's science.  They can take it from there."

There was a bit of a pause, before I hear my Dad ask a question that has been lingering in my mind.  "Are you dying then?" he asks softly.  "You're awfully young..."

Another uncomfortable pause ensues.  I honestly don't think he'll answer, but just when I am about to give up on him, he does.  "Yes...yes, I am.  Oh, don't look so abysmal, Potter!  You would have been waiting for this moment your entire life if you hadn't already thought I was gone!"

"That's not true!" my father interjects, sounding offended, "Ever since I saw those memories you gave me, I wished I had gotten another chance to speak with you!"

"Hmph.  Well, regardless of whether or not that statement is true, no true potions master ever lasts a day past 90.  Between the exposure to toxic fumes and testing experiments, their bodies are filled with foreign toxins that no wizard or witch can handle.  I am no different when it comes to this matter-in fact, I am probably worse off because I have been poisoned numerous times as a Death Eater, not to mention having sustained serious nerve damage from the Cruciatus Curse.  Frankly, it's a miracle that I've lasted as long as I have, so wipe that disgraceful look off your face, boy!  I don't want your pity!"   

I cringed, as I know my father would probably give it to him anyway.

"There's no way to stop it?"

"No."

"You could make a potion-"

"No-it's my time, Potter.  Leave it."

"But-"

"No ‘buts,' Potter.  Leave it!"

I can tell Snape is angry.  For the safety of the entire nursing home, I hope my father is smart enough to let it go.

"It's just a shame, that's all...  I mean, you're a war hero, but you never got the chance to be recognized."

"I never wanted any of that; I just wanted to live my life in peace, which is exactly what I did...until now, that is."

I frown upon hearing that.  We're making the wizard's life miserable and depriving him of the one thing he wants by having him here.  Even though I know we're taking care of him and his stay here is necessary, I start to feel sad.

This doesn't last long though, as I see my supervisor heading down the hallway.  Quickly, I Disillusion myself and hope that she doesn't come near the linen hamper.  I watch as her white nursing shoes pass by.

Whew.  That was close.  Quickly, I turn my attention back to the conversation at hand.

"You loved my mum."

Oh dear Merlin, why did Dad have to bring that up?  I get my wand ready in case I'm needed.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Potter."

"Will you tell me about her?"

"I refuse to talk about that with you, Potter.  It's none of your damn business."

"How can you say that-she's my mother-"

"Haven't you asked enough pesky questions today?"

"But-"

"Nope, it's your turn to answer my questions, boy.  I want to know what the hell happened to your family that was so bad your son can't even talk about it."

Oh, shit!  He was coherent when I said all of that?!  I didn't think he'd remember!  I strain my ears to hear my father's soft tone of voice.

"He told you about that, did he?"

"He said he couldn't talk about it, but I saw it in his head."

"You Legilimized my son?  To see that?" My dad asks, clearly appalled.

"It wasn't on purpose-I'm old, Potter!  My mind latched onto his, much like it latched onto yours just a while ago.  I can't control it anymore, okay?  My Legilimency powers are no longer fully in my control."

Quickly, I put two and two together.  Snape must have caused my Dad's headache earlier, not to mention putting those unexplainable, mixed-up memories in my own head.  It also showed that Snape's powers were fading after all; not his physical magical ability, but his mind powers.

"What did you see?"

"Your wife, dead on the floor."

I nearly curse at the insensitivity that the bastard is showing my father.

"I suppose...well, I suppose I should start from the beginning then."

Dad is going to tell him. 

Shock washes over me as my father starts to tell the familiar story-I don't want to hear this!  Part of me wants to run in there and tell him not to do this, tell him I can't stand to hear it ever again!  The other half of me knows that I'll be in trouble if I do, for eavesdropping on this private conversation.

Fuck!

I don't want to hear this!  My Hufflepuff loyalty keeps me glued down in my spot, however, just in case my father needs me.  Thus, I slowly find myself reliving the horrors of the incident.

My father starts, his voice soft and hollow sounding.  "I was working full-time as an Auror at the time, but it was really more than a full-time job because we were experiencing a lapse in recruits.  Basically, I was working many more hours than I ought have been to try and catch everything up-all of the Aurors were.

"Naturally, after a while, Ginny got tired of this-every night I came home late, she'd rant and rave about how I never had any time for her, or Albus and Lily; a speech about how important family was, you know.  Stuff I already knew, obviously, but she was mad at me and couldn't let it go.  Ginny would sometimes get that way.  I'd do my best to remind her it was temporary and would only last until next year's Auror Apprentices graduated, but it only went so far.  She'd still Fire-call me at work with the hopes of getting me to come home early sometimes.

"The night it happened was one of those nights.  Albus was a first-year Auror's Apprentice at the time and had decided to stay and help me file things when she called. 

I climb up the ladder, carefully balancing several case files in my hand.  They are already alphabetized; it is just a matter of putting them away in all the right spots.  As I struggle to push the Primfield file into an already overstuffed drawer, my father chuckles at me.  "You know, there's a spell for that, Al-you don't have to do it the Muggle way."  As he shows me the correct spell maneuver, I hear a rush of flames behind me and gingerly turn around.  Mum's head is situated in the middle of the fireplace and she does not look happy.

"Ginny was mad at me, perhaps even more so than usual because I told her Albus was going to stay with me so he could learn more about the filing system.  I had planned on staying there for an extra two hours, but I made a compromise for her sake and told her we'd both be home in exactly one.  One hour.  We were only there for one extra hour, but one hour was really all the time it took.

"You had better not be lying to me, Harry James Potter!  I want to see my son today and Lily is dying to show you the painting she's been working on for the last week."

"I'll be there, okay?  Give us one hour to get some of this mess filed and I promise we'll both be home for a family dinner, Sweetie," my dad says, practically begging.  I dislike it when Mum makes him seem pathetic like this, but his giving in does seem to calm her down a bit.

"Okay then-as long as it's only an hour," she says, still clearly upset about the compromise.  Her face disappears from the smoldering flames of our fireplace.

"Albus and I stayed and worked for the next 55 minutes, after which we stopped and went to one of the Apparition Points in the Auror wing-had a quick chat with Ed, who guards the Point during second shift, then we quickly Apparated home.

"When I first caught sight of the house that night, I felt fear-fear like I'd never felt before.  The Dark Mark was floating above our house.

"Dad, you can't be serious!" I say with a laugh as we appear in the street, both facing away from our house.  My laugh tapers off quite quickly as I register that something is wrong.  It's way too quiet out here.  We both whip around and my body goes cold with fear when I see a transparent green snake and skull floating above our house, distorting the beautiful sunset behind it.

It's surreal. 

My heart beats faster.  I watch as my father takes off running frantically towards the house.  Somehow, I'm following him, though I don't know how I have the strength.  Dad's already up the steps and he casts Alohomora so forcefully, that the doorknob bangs into the wall on the other side.  I hardly hear it though, over Dad's screams for Mum.

"I ran into the house, but it was too late.  Ginny was dead in the kitchen.  It...it looked like she put up a fight because she was clearly wounded before the Avada Kedavra finished her off."

I run around the bend, into the kitchen, only to find my father on his knees.  He whispers ‘no' over and over again as he slowly crawls towards her body, smearing the puddle of blood over the tiles.  I walk over and quickly kneel down to take her pulse.  Her neck is still warm, but the pulse isn't there.

Mum's dead.  Her eyes are staring up at the ceiling, but aren't seeing a thing.  She looks as shocked as Dad; even in death, her arm is still stiffly held upward, as if she was caught trying to fight back.  Clearly, there had been a bit of a scramble, as several things in the kitchen had suffered explosions and Mum, well...Mum has sustained some deep cuts all over her body.  This explains all of the blood staining the white-tiled floor and matting down some of her hair.  It was almost as if the perpetrator had cast-

"Sectumsempra.  She was attacked with Sectumsempra," I hear my dad say from far off in the distance.  "I was too distraught to do anything after that, but luckily, Albus remembered to go and find his sister."

Oh Merlin, my sister!  Oh please, don't let my sister be dead too!  I swallow down the bile in my throat as I frantically run out of the room and up the stairs.  I hold my wand in front of me with a shaking fist, as I sneak down the hallway towards Lily's room. 

What if she's dead in there?  What if-

I kick the door open and scan the scene.  No one.  I quickly check under the bed and in the closet.  She's not here.  I do the same in all the other bedrooms as well as the bathroom.

She's gone; Merlin!

Scenarios worse than her death are rolling through my head now:  kidnapping, rape...  Oh dear Merlin, please let it not be so!  Please!

"LILY!" I scream, too scared to be cautious any longer, "LILY!"

I run through the house, searching and searching; I have to find her!  I refuse to stop until I've found her.  As I become more and more desperate, I find myself screaming out, "POINT ME LILY POTTER!"

And Point Me it does.  The arrow points towards the one place I haven't looked yet-the cupboard under the stairs.       

I race over and try to yank the door open, only to find it locked.  Frustrated, I cast Alohomora so heartily that the door explodes off the cupboard.  Dust billows around as I get down on my knees and prepare to enter the cabinet as best as my 19 year-old body can manage. 

I hear a whimper.

Curled up in the furthest corner from is my sister.  I finally feel like I can take a breath-there she is.  Alive.  Alive, but scared.  Alive, nonetheless.  She appears unharmed, but I still find myself asking, "Lily, are you okay?"

She just whimpers and puts her head down on her knees.  I notice that her fingers are gripping her knees so tightly that tiny droplets of blood have appeared in a few places.

I don't know what to do.  I whisper her name, and then slowly reach for her hand.  When I touch her, she panics and pulls away, looking at me with a wild look in her eyes.  Not knowing what to do, but not wanting to scare her even more, I quickly pull myself out of the cupboard and go to Floo the Aurors.

"Albus found her, alive and unhurt, thankfully.  She was so scared though, that she stayed in the cupboard for over an hour until James was summoned from Hogwarts.  I don't know what he said, but he was able to get her out.

"We never found out exactly what happened to Lily that night either:  how she got under the stairs, if she heard what was going on, if Ginny locked her there for protection...we don't know.  Lily has always been unwilling to talk about her experience, and I don't think that will ever change.  The whole thing was traumatizing for everyone involved, so I don't blame her.

My stomach churns as I listen to Dad go on and on.  Really, I'm only half listening though as I keep picturing Mum's eyes, the Dark Mark, and the cupboard.  I have such a hard time dealing with all of it, so much so that I have most often chosen to simply avoid it.  When I don't think about it, I can keep going, but now...now I'm definitely done for the day.

"-they blamed it all on me, you see-James and Lily.  I was so messed up then, I knew I couldn't take care of Lily, who was still 16 at the time.  James had just completed his Astronomy Apprenticeship and was making good money, so he took her during her last year at Hogwarts.  I thought I was doing the right thing by signing her away, but then they turned on me and I haven't seen them since..."

Now he's breaking down. 

"It's been over 15 years and they still won't talk to me...it's almost like I lost them too," Dad babbles.  A tear rolls down my cheek as I listen to Dad's pain.

"Potter-"

"I just don't understand why this happened!  She was my wife and I don't know how to live without her!"

"Potter-"

"I mean, how did you get over Lily, Snape?  I just don't think I can-"

"Potter!"

"-I mean, I don't get why all of these bad things have happened to my family!  Don't we deserve some happiness too?  Don't we deserve not to suff-"

"POTTER!  For fuck's sake, put a sock in it and listen for once in your life!"

"Why the hell should I listen to you, you greasy-"

"Potter, if you think you're the only family suffering in this life, you're even more vain than I thought!  Just take a look at the Weasleys, for Merlin's sake:  Ron, Percy, George...  They've all been in messes during their lives and you bloody well know it!  All you have to do is stick around here and I'm sure you'll hear Ronald scream at someone during some point of the day-clearly, his life isn't filled with daisies and roses!"

"Yeah, well he's in here because of me-"

"No, he's not!  I heard the story from your Hufflepuff son-it's not your bloody fault, no matter how many times that idiot yells at you!"

"How do you know that?"

"Are you suggesting that your son lied to me?"

"No, I'm suggesting that my son has a big mouth!"

"A big mouth you ought to pay more attention to, obviously!  If you'd kindly take your head out of your arse for a moment, you'd be able to hear the truth in the things he says!"

"Take my head out of my...?!  I'm warning you, Snape-"

"Well, your head must be somewhere because you can't seem to see all of the good things your life has dealt you, even amid the bad!"

"What are you on about?"

"I'm talking about your son's loyalty and how he has stuck beside you-is that not a good thing, Potter?  You still have your job, your health...  All you ever do is look at the bad things life has dealt you.  If you'd look at the good things once in a while, you wouldn't be so fucking miserable!"

"Oh, that's fucking rich coming from you, Snape!"

"You wanted my advice, Potter, so here it is!  I have overcome every obstacle in my life by moving on.  I left behind my parents and the terrible childhood I had-don't you dare deny it, Potter!  I know you saw those memories!  I got over your mother the same way-"

"Liar!  You never did get over my mum; you were pining for her even at the time of your fake death!"

"Yeah, well I could hardly get over it when I was constantly working towards fulfilling my promise to Dumbledore, namely protecting your sorry arse, you bloody troublemaker!  Once I saw that you were going to be safe and free to live your own life, I was free to let it go."

My dad pauses, then softly says, "I didn't think you'd ever let it go.  I mean, you begged her to come back..."

"Have you asked your kids to come back, Potter?  To come and visit?"

"I did...at first.  I gave up hope after a while though..."

"You could always try again.  I always used to wish that I could have tried again.  Maybe if I'd kept asking, she would have forgiven me."

"Hmph...then you probably would have been my father."

"Potter, I know for a fact that I would have never spawned someone quite like you."

Dad chuckles a bit at this.  He still sounds sad, but...perhaps a bit hopeful as well?

"Do you think I should try again?"

"It couldn't hurt.  They may have matured."

"And you think I'll get better...like you?"

When Dad asks that question, I find myself thinking about several people in my life who have suffered.  Uncle George comes to mind; Uncle George overcame all odds when his twin Fred died.  He had to learn to do things by himself-he was used to always having someone there to finish his sentences and practically read his mind.  He had to learn to be alone.

He did.  He survived his suffering.

Uncle Percy blamed himself for Fred's death.  He always thought it was his fault, for years and years, but was finally able to let it go. 

Time can heal our suffering too, just like it healed Uncle Percy's.

And Vivian...Vivian's sister had died when she was just a child.  She apparently had a very bad case of Dragonpox; they were so bad that they appeared on the inside of her throat, which swelled up and suffocated the poor little girl.  Vivian despaired over her loss for the longest time, but it was her mother who had continually hoped that their life would get better.

Surrounded by that hope, Vivian got on with her life.

All around me, there are people in different parts of their lives:  some suffering, some getting over it, some experiencing the best time of their lives...  Life has all of those things; without them, it wouldn't be life.

Perhaps the Death Eater is right...perhaps Dad and I need to work harder to get our family back together.  Maybe if we keep trying, things will heal. 

Maybe our wounds will scab over.

Dad and the Death Eater continue to talk, about Grandma Lily, from the sound of things.  I have heard enough though to trust that they will be okay and not kill each other.  Finally, my legs have stopped shaking from my recollection of the incident and I stand up, cancelling my Disillusionment Spell as my back cracks back into a comfortable position.

I still don't feel well, so I go to Amy and plead sick.  A few minutes later, I find myself kicking off my shoes and lying down in my bed.  I can still see Mum lying on the floor, but I also consider the Death Eater's advice as I lie there lifelessly, hoping for sleep to overtake me.

Maybe, just maybe...everything will turn out all right.