Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbeldore.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape’s wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry’s scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

.

.

.

Harry felt as though he too were hurtling through space; it had not happened…it could not have happened…

“Out of here, quickly,” said Snape.

As they vanished through the door, Harry realized he could move again. What was now holding him paralyzed against the wall was not magic, but horror and shock.  He threw the Invisibility Cloak aside as the brutal-faced Death Eater, last to leave the tower top, was disappearing through the door.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

The Death Eater buckled as though hit in the back with something solid and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but he had barely hit the floor when Harry was clambering over him and running down the darkened staircase.

Terror tore at Harry’s heart…he had to get to Dumbledore and he had to catch Snape…

.

.

.

He heard the hated voice shout, “It’s over, time to go!” He saw Snape disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and Malfoy seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed. Harry plunged after them.

He put his head down and sprinted forward through the battle, narrowly avoiding a blast that erupted over his head, showering them all in bits of wall. Snape must not escape; he must catch up with Snape—

.

Harry flew across the entrance hall and out into the dark grounds: He could just make out figures racing across the lawn, heading for the gates beyond which they could Disapparate.

The cold night air ripped at Harry’s lungs as he tore after them; he saw a flash of light in the distance that momentarily silhouetted his quarry. He did not know what it was but continued to run not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse.

Something caught Harry hard in the small of the back and he fell forward, his face smacking the ground, blood pouring out of both nostrils. Throwing a curse as he rolled over again, crouching close to the dark ground, he managed to hit his attacker. Harry leapt to his feet and sprinted on after Snape.

Snape and Malfoy were still running; they would soon be beyond the gates, able to Disapparate—

Harry tore on, took aim at Snape’s back, and yelled, “Stupefy!”

He missed; the jet of red light soared past Snape’s head; Snape shouted, “Run, Draco!” and turned. Twenty yards apart, he and Harry looked at each other before raising their wands simultaneously.

“Cruc—“

But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backward off his feet before he could complete it; Harry rolled over and scrambled back up again.

“Cruc—“ yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for the figure ahead illuminated inthedancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell again. Harry could see him sneering.

“No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!” he shouted. “You haven’t got the nerve or the ability—“

“Incarc—“ Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost lazy flick of his arm.

“Fight back!” Harry screamed at him. “Fight back, you cowardly—“

“Coward, did you call me, Potter?” shouted Snape. “Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?”

“Stupe—“

“Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!” sneered Snape, deflecting the curse once more. “Now come!” he shouted at the huge Death Eater behind Harry. “It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up—“

“Impedi—“

But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Harry; he keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die of this agony; Snape was going to torture him to death or madness—

“No!” roared Snape’s voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and panting; somewhere overhead Snape was shouting,

“Have you forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord—we are to leave him! Go! Go!”

And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as the enormous Death Eater obeyed, running toward the gates. Harry uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself—

“Sectum--!”

Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape’s face clearly at least: He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi—

“No, Potter!” screamed Snape. There was a loud bang and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape’s pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.

“You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don’t think so…no!”

Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight.

“Kill me then,” panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. “Kill me like you killed him you coward—“

“DON’T—“ screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in pain— “CALL ME COWARD!”

And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground. Spots of light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the breath seemed to have gone form his body. As Harry raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming form its last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as he could towards the apparition barrier.

Harry struggled to his feet, looking around groggily for his wand, hoping to give chase again.

His fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs and leaves until he found his wand. Grabbing it up in his grip, he ran, flat out. Snape was almost there. A few more feet and he’d reach the barrier. Harry felt a burst of energy surge through him.

Snape was in front of him. Harry wasn’t going to let him get away. Deciding not to risk using a spell and having Snape get away, he sprinted forward. He was right there, less than five feet away…

Snape twirled around triumphantly as he began to Apparate.

“No!” yelled Harry. The victorious look on Snape’s face turned to one of horror as Harry launched himself at him. Severus’ howl of aggravation echoed in the dark night as he and Harry were whisked away.

.

.

.

Harry was flung off Snape and thrown to the side. He was given about a second to come to himself before--

“Stupefy!”

Harry threw up a hasty shield charm and narrowly avoided the spell. 

“Potter! You insufferable brat!” another “stupefy!” found its way heading towards Harry, who threw himself out its path.

He retaliated. “Diffindo!”

His spell was easily blocked and Snape descended on him. “Expelliarmus!” Harry managed to keep hold of his wand.

“Petrificus Totalis!” yelled Harry followed immediately by another stunner from Snape.

“You fight like a first year Potter!”

Spells and curses bounced around the room, creating a display of fireworks to rival the Weasley twins.

“Reducto!”

“Tarantallegra!”

“Incendio!”

“Flipendo!”

“Who’s fighting like a first year now, Snape!” Harry was getting ready to shout another curse. “Fight like a man! Expelli—“

“Crucio!”

Harry fell to the floor, body convulsing in unbearable pain. He didn’t have time to scream. As soon as the curse hit him, it was lifted.

“You think you’re a man, Potter?” Harry lay on the floor panting, wand held loosely in his grasp as Snape stood above him. “Get up and prove it.” Snape sneered.

Harry got to his unsteady feet as fast as his pained body would allow as Snape backed away, wand held out in front of him. Harry raised his eyes to meet the obsidian gaze and felt hatred flood his veins.

Snape had managed to block every single spell thrown his way, whether because of his ability to read his mind, or sheer luck, it didn’t matter. Concentrating with every ounce of power he had, Harry began to form the spell in his mind—Avada Keda—

“NO!!” Snape brandished his wand and Harry was sent flying backwards into the bookshelf. He was barely coherent of the wood cracking under the force of his body. Dust and books rained down on Harry as he slid to the floor, face grimaced in pain, and then Snape was upon him.

Thin, spindly fingers found their way around his throat, pushing against Harry’s windpipe. Harry reached desperately for his wand that had fallen out of his hand.

Snape kept one hand pressed against Harry’s throat; the other grabbed the hand reaching for his wand and stretched it above Harry’s head. Snape put more strength behind his grip and Harry let out a gasp as more of his air was cut off. His other hand was trapped under Snape’s body; the older mans weight pinning it to the floor.

Snape leaned down, his mouth level with Harry’s ear. As he whispered, his warm breath flew over the side of Harry’s face.

“You would see me dead, brat, yes? You want me killed.”

Harry had no breath left which with to form a whole sentence but he managed to get out a few vital words. “Killed…Dumbledore…”

 

Snape’s gaze snapped to focus on him. A maniacal laugh escaped him and Harry scrunched up his face as his throat was squeezed harder. He was losing more and more air. He thrashed, attempting to breath. It wasn’t helping. White blurred the edges of his vision and Harry felt himself beginning to drift.

The sound of Snape’s unapparent amusement was the last thing Harry heard before he felt his chest hitch one last time and the darkness claimed him.  

.

.

.

.

.

.

The return to consciousness was disorienting. It took a minute for it to register in Harry’s mind that he was not dead. In fact, he was quite alive and in a lot of pain. Every bone ached, every muscle twitched. Realizing he was lying vulnerable, spread-eagle on the floor, Harry twisted his head to survey the room he was in. It was a tiny sitting room, which had the feeling of a dark, padded, cell. A threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in a pool of dim light cast by a candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The place had an air of neglect, as though it was not usually inhabited. The walls were completely covered in books, except for the one right next to him which had been destroyed on impact. A groan escaped his lips at memory of the collision.

“The feeling’s mutual, Potter.”

“Snape.” Harry’s voice came out a whisper. He attempted to sit up, gently guiding his throbbing body. He glanced around, looking for his wand.

“Looking for this, boy?” Snape stood leaning against the sofa, twirling Harry’s wand between his fingers.

“Give it back.” Harry winced at the burning in his throat.

“Why? You’ll only try to kill me and get yourself killed in the process. I don’t care much for encores.”

“What do you care? Bet you’d kill me just as easily as you killed Dumbledore!”

Fury stretched across Snape’s face. “Do not speak of what you do not understand!”

“I saw it! I saw you kill him!”

“You saw Dumbledore die! That does not mean you know everything.”

“I know you deserve—“

“Oh yes! Potter knows everything about everyone, doesn’t he? We’ll just let Prince Potter run about dolling out justice in the world, hmmm? He knows what everyone deserves. Arrogant little twit!” Snape’s face was a mask of rage.

For the first time since Harry had seen Dumbledore disappear over the edge of the tower, he felt fear.  Not only was he entirely defenseless, but he was completely at mercy in the hands of his deranged Professor. He clambered slowly to his feet as Snape advanced on him. He grabbed Harry’s arm and roughly hauled him up the rest of the way.

“I could kill you now.” Harry suddenly found his wand turned on him, point digging into the tender skill just under his chin. “I could kill you now and no one would know.”

Harry froze, waiting for Snape to end it, for that telltale green light…

His wand was shoved harshly into his hand and Snape spat out “Take it.” He then turned and pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and, with a bang that almost threw Harry off his feet; a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase.

“Get out, Potter.” 

Harry glanced around warily as he was left alone in the sitting room. All his energy had left him and Harry felt tired and confused.

Why hadn’t Snape killed him when he’d had the chance? It didn’t make sense.

The burning hatred from earlier that night had dissipated until it was a tiny spark, but it was still there. He might not know everything, but he knew what he saw, and Snape killed Dumbledore. Harry glanced cautiously at the hidden door. He shifted it, ignoring the complaints from his tender joints. He listened carefully for any noise coming from the passageway, and, hearing nothing, began a stealthy ascent up the narrow staircase.

At the top, a door stood halfway open, allowing light to flood out of the room. Harry waited watching for shadows to fall across the floor, or for the sound of someone moving in the room. He heard the scraping of a chair and a heavy sigh as, he assumed Snape, sat down.

Readying his wand, Harry took a deep breath and, ignoring his body’s protests, shoved himself forward. He ran up the last few steps and slammed the door open. Snape jumped up from his seat.

“You must think me a fool!” he snarled and brandished his wand, but Harry was ready, shouting “Sectumpsempra!” with all the energy he could muster.

Harry felt his heart soar when Snape didn’t block the spell or create a shield. Instead, he ducked, narrowly missing the curse.

He noticed the wall behind Snape and felt his heart drop when he saw his own reflection staring back at him. There was a mirror hanging on the wall.

“No!” Snape yelled, enraged. “You idiot!”

It seemed like slow motion to Harry. The curse hit the mirror and rebounded, speeding towards him. He was frozen, stuck in one spot. When it hit, Harry was sure it hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything. Blood began flowing from gashes on his chest. He fell onto his knees. Feeling something warm and sticky on his face, Harry brought his hand up to see what it was. When he pulled his hand away, he was surprised to see it was red.

Harry looked at Snape, who seemed to be coming towards him. He was shouting something, but Harry’s mind seemed to have shut down and couldn’t process the words. He blinked and looked back at his Professor.

“…warned you!...better than anyone else…Potter!”

Harry felt himself falling backwards to the floor. Expecting to hit hard, Harry braced himself, but the impact never came. Something caught him and slowly lowered him down to the ground. Snape stood over him, his face blurring. Harry felt his robes being ripped off, his shirt ripped open. He blinked a few times, hoping to clear his vision, but it did nothing and Snape’s face came in and out of focus.

“I mean it……you die….kill you myself!” Snape was shouting at him again. Harry shuddered as cold hands pressed against his skin.

Funny. He could feel that, but not the pain he knew he must be in. Someone was singing in the distance, a heavenly voice. Harry smiled to himself. If this was how he was going to go, it wasn’t half bad.

Someone slapped his face, snapping his attention back to Snape kneeling next to him. Harry started to drift off again, not caring what Snape was saying when he felt another slap.

He grimaced at the sharp sting and looked at Snape who slipped into focus. He was holding Harry by the scruff of his robes and pointing a finger straight at his face.

“—you hear me? You. Will. Not. Die. You cannot die!”

Why not? Harry wanted to ask, but he couldn’t find the words. He looked at the finger shoved in his face, noticing the red paint splattered over the hand.

Red paint…why was there red paint…was Snape painting the common room? But his common room is green…Green like the curse…the one that killed my parents…my parents…Sirius…I’ll see Sirius…

Harry felt his head roll to the side, but Snape grabbed him by the chin.

“You will not die. I will not let you.”

Harry found himself gazing straight into the obsidian orbs and then he was falling headlong into sunlight, and his feet found warm ground. He found himself on a nearly deserted playground. Two girls were swinging and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes. His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby, overlarge coat that might have belonged to a grown man, an odd smock like shirt. It was Snape.

He looked no more than nine or ten years old, swallow, small, stringy. There was undisguised greed in his thing face as he watched the younger of the two girls swinging higher and higher than her sister. The younger girl jumped off the swing at the very height of its arc and flow into the air, quite literally flown, launching herself skyward with a great shout of laughter disregarding her sister’s yelling.  The younger girl began to play a fallen flower, causing it to open and close its petals like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

“How do you do it?” Petunia asked.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Snape could no longer contain himself, but had jumped out from behind the bushes. Petunia shrieked and ran back towards the swings, but the younger girl, Lily, though clearly startled, remained where she was.

“What’s obvious?”

Snape had an air of nervous excitement. “I know what you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…you’re a witch,” whispered Snape. “My mum’s one, and I’m a wizard.”

Petunia’s laugh was like cold water.

“Wizard!” she shrieked, her courage returned now that she had recovered from the shock of his unexpected appearance. “I know who you are. You’re that Snape boy! They live down Spinner’s End by the river,” she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation. “Come on, we’re leaving!” she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once. Snape stood watching them as they marched through the playground gate…..

.

Harry was now in a small thicket of trees. He could see a sunlit river glittering through their trunks. The shadows cast by the trees made a basin of cool green shade. Two children sat facing each other, cross-legged on the ground. Lily dropped the twig she had been playing with and leaned towards the boy, “It is real, isn’t it? It’s not a joke? Petunia says you’re lying to me. Petunia says there isn’t a Hogwarts. It is real, isn’t it?”

“It’s real for us.” Said Snape. “Since you’re Muggle-born someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.”

“Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”

Snape hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair.

“No,” he said. “It doesn’t make any difference.…”

.

Snape was hurrying along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express as it clattered through the countryside. He had already changed into his school robes, had perhaps taken the first opportunity to take off his dreadful Muggle clothes. At last he stopped, outside a compartment in which a group of rowdy boys were talking. Hunched in a corner seat beside the window was Lily. Snape sat down opposite her.

‘This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts! You’d better be in Slytherin,” said Snape.

“Slytherin?”

One of the boys sharing the compartment, who had shown no interest at all in Lily or Snape until that point, looked around at the word, and Harry, whose attention had been focused entirely on the two beside the window, saw his father: slight, black-haired like Snape, but with that indefinable air of having been well-cared-for, even adored, that Snape so conspicuously lacked.

“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” James asked the boy lounging on the seats opposite him, and with a jolt, Harry realized that it was Sirius. Sirius did not smile.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said.

“Blimey,” said James, “and I thought you seemed all right!”

Sirius grinned.

“Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James lifted an invisible sword.

“’Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him. “Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy—“

“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

“Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.”

“Oooooo…”

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

“See ya, Snivellus!” a voice called, as the compartment door slammed….

.

Harry was standing right behind Snape as they faced the candlelight House tables, lined with rapt faces. Then Professor McGonagall said, “Evans, Lily!”

He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat on her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, “Gryffindor!”

Harry heard Snape let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Snape, and there was a sad little smile on her face.

“Snape, Severus!”

Harry walked with him to the stool, watched him place the hat upon his head. “Slytherin!” cried the Sorting Hat.

And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him….

.

Lily and Snape were walking across the castle courtyard, evidently arguing.

“…thought we were supposed to be friends?” Snape was saying. “Best friends?”

“We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging around with! I’m sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?”

Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face.

“That was nothing,” said Snape. “it was a laugh, that’s all—“

“It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny—“

“What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?” demanded Snape. His color rose again as he said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in his resentment.

“What’s Potter got to do with anything?” said Lily.

“They sneak out at night. There’s something weird about that Lupin. Where does he keep going?”

“He’s ill,” said Lily. “They say he’s ill – ”

“Every month at the full moon?” said Snape.

“I know your theory,” said Lily, and she sounded cold. “Why are you so obsessed with them anyway? Why do you care what they’re doing at night?”

“I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.”

The intensity of his gaze made her blush.

“They don’t use Dark Magic, though.” She dropped her voice. “And you’re being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow, and James Potter saved you from whatever’s down there – ”

Snape’s whole face contorted and he spluttered, “Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to – I won’t let you – ”

“Let me? Let me?”

Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.

“I didn’t m ean – I just don’t want to see you made a fool of – He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!” The words seemed wrenched from him against his will. “And he’s not…everyone thinks…big Quidditch hero – ” Snape’s bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily’s eyebrows were traveling farther and farther up her forehead.

“I know James Potter’s an arrogant toerag,” she said, cutting across Snape. “I don’t need you to tell me that. But Mulciber’s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don’t understand how you can be friends with them.”

Harry doubted that Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter, his whole body had relaxed, and as they walked away there was a new spring in Snape’s step…

.

Snape left the Great Hall after sitting his O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts, wandered away from the castle and strayed inadvertently close to the place beneath the beech tree where James, Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew sat together.

Harry knew what happened after James hoisted Severus into the air and taunted him; he knew what had been done and said, and it gave him no pleasure to hear it again… He watched as Lily joined the group and went to Snape’s defense. Distantly he heard Snape shout at her in his humiliation and his fury, the unforgivable word: “Mudblood.”

.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not interested.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Save your breath”

It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

“I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.”

“I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just – ”

“Slipped out?” There was no pity in Lily’s voice. “It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends – you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?”

He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking.

“I can’t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.”

“No – listen, I didn’t mean – ”

“ – to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?”

He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole…

.

Harry seemed to fly through shifting shapes and colors until his surroundings solidified again and he stood on a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness, the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone… His fear infected Harry too, even though he knew that he could not be harmed, and he looked over his shoulder, wondering what it was that Snape was waiting for –

Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air. Harry thought of lightning, but Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand.

“Don’t kill me!”

“That was not my intention.”

Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand.

“Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?”

“No – no message – I’m here on my own account!”

Snape was wringing his hands. He looked a little mad, with his straggling black hair flying around him.

“I – I come with a warning – no, a request – please – ”

Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other.

“What request could a Death Eater make of me?”

“The – the prophecy…the prediction…Trelawney…”

“Ah, yes,” said Dumbledore. “How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?”

“Everything – everything I heard!” said Snape. “That is why – it is for that reason – he thinks it means Lily Evans!”

“The prophecy did not refer to a woman,” said Dumbledore. “It spoke of a boy born at the end of July – ”

“You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down – kill them all – ”

“If she means so much to you,” said Dumbledore, “surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?”

“I have – I have asked him – ”

“You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little, “You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?”

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

“Hide them all, then,” he croaked. “Keep her – them – safe. Please.”

“And what will you give me in return, Severus?”

“In – in return?” Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, “Anything.”

.

Harry stood in Dumbledore’s office, and something was making a terrible sound, like a wounded animal. Snape was slumped forward in a chair and Dumbledore was standing over him, looking grim. After a moment or two, Snape raised his face, and he looked like a man who had lived a hundred years of misery since leaving the wild hilltop.

“I thought…you were going…to keep her…safe…”

“She and James put their faith in the wrong person,” said Dumbledore. “Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?”

Snape’s breathing was shallow.

“Her boy survives,” said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

“Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?”

“DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone…dead…”

“Is this remorse, Severus?”

“I wish…I wish I were dead…”

“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear.”

Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore’s words appeared to take a long time to reach him.

“What – what do you mean?”

“You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.”

“He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone – ”

“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”

There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear…especially Potter’s son…I want your word!”

“My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist…”

.

.

.

There was a rushing sound and Harry found himself back in his own mind. He was back in his own body, breathing hard. Harry glanced up. Snape panted heavily above him.

“I will not let you die.”