Snape was dimly aware of the cacophony of voices that broke out around him after he collapsed to the floor with Potter the younger half sprawled on top of him. Although the hands of the Voldemort-possessed-Potter were no longer around his neck, his throat still felt constricted and every desperately drawn inhalation caused a fresh wave of suffering. For a few moments he lay still, hardly daring to believe that he was alive, or that a boy who could not grasp even the most rudimentary aspects of Occlumency had mentally bested the Dark Lord.

He was drawn out of his musings by a persistent voice near his ear. With great effort, he focused only to hear James Potter's irate tones, "…swear to Merlin, if I were corporeal, I'd slap you. Now is not the time to lay down. There is no healer to help either of you; there's only you. Get up, man!"

Still gasping for the breath that had been choked out of him, Snape waved off James Potter's concern. And wasn't that an unexpected turn, hearing the elder potter—any Potter, really—sounding concerned on his behalf. He struggled to sit up, mumbling an imprecation at all male Potters as he worked to maneuver himself out from under the younger Potter's weight and into a sitting position. The intended insult came out as an incoherent grunt followed by a gasp as the pain of attempting to speak shot through him like a Cruciatus Curse. By the time he recovered, James's attention had been commandeered by a crowd of specters all demanding to be given an explanation thus leaving Snape free to tend to the worryingly inert form of Harry Potter.

Sitting up had resulted in the world spinning about him for several moments, but as soon as he was able, Snape reached out to the unconscious teen, pressing fingers to the boy's neck. Yes there was a heartbeat. With unsteady hands, Snape then pulled back one of Potter's eyelids thinking that it was just as well to be sure.

Green, not red.

A tension he had not been aware of bled from his body with a shuddering sigh, loosening his jaw and shoulders. The tension returned in almost equal measure, though, when he took in Potter's pallor and shallow breathing. He reached for his wand, fumbling slightly when the blood on his hand made the smooth wood unexpectedly slick. The basic first-aid charm required a somewhat complicated gesture that Snape only managed to coerce out of his weakening body on the fourth attempt. It was not a spell meant to diagnose specific injuries but rather to identify areas of major concern so that a healer could cast more targeted diagnostics. Snape did not know what he expected the result to be, but he definitely was unprepared for the pale pink haze hovering over Potter's entire body. What did that result mean again? Something systemic, clearly. It was bad, he knew, but at this moment he could not recall why.

"Shock," a voice supplied, and Snape glanced up long enough to meet the eyes of Sirius Black's specter and nod. That was it. He might find the Potter brat infuriating, but his focus right now was on saving the idiot's life and he hardly cared who had supplied the answer to his dilemma. Now what was one supposed to do for shock victims? Seek a qualified healer, of course, but that was not an option at the moment. A shiver wracked Harry's frame, so Snape cast a warming charm. He was certain there was something else he should do, but he could not recall what that might be aside from monitoring the boy's condition and hoping he would not get worse.

Having done all he could for the moment and seeing that the boy was stable, Snape took the opportunity to glance around. James Potter stood just far enough away that Snape could not make out what he was saying to the remaining specters who were all grouped around him. Based on the frustration evident on the man's face he was having some difficulty with whatever he was attempting to convey to the muggles in front of him. Kneeling next to the supine form of the younger Potter were Sirius Black, looking more somber than Snape had ever seen him, and Lily Potter. Snape tore his eyes away from Lily's form; he was ashamed of his past and had no desire to see that shame echoed in her eyes. Unfortunately, that left him looking at Black.

The two men stared at each other for a minute in silence, not that Snape had any desire to speak again so soon after his last agonizing attempt.

"I don't like you, Snape," Black said at last.

Although he could not speak, Snape was still capable of sneering.

Black continued, unaffected by the expression. "I never did, and I'm confident in my belief that the feeling is entirely mutual. In fact, I cannot imagine any world where we would have gotten along. You were a bastard in school and have continued to be a bastard as an adult."

That was rather too like the cauldron calling the kettle black in Snape's mind, and he glared at the boy who had done so much to make his school years a living hell.

Unaccountably, the man appeared somewhat flushed and lowered his eyes in what, in anyone else, Snape might have thought was embarrassment. "But, well, death can broaden your perspective if you let it. And I, um, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was a bit of a bastard too."

At least three sarcastic retorts came to Snape's mind but he forced himself to be content with a derisive sniff.

"More than that, I really should not have sent you into the Shrieking Shack, no matter how obnoxious you were being with all your sneaking around trying to get us into trouble. I doubt you're ready to forgive me for that, or anything else, really, and that's okay. I know that I deserved at least half of what you dealt out at school.

"But the scales are even there, as well, since I'm not ready to forgive you yet, either. Your role in my friends' death and your treatment of my godson…well, if our positions were reversed, would you forgive me?"

Snape shook his head, not as an answer but out of shock that he was having this conversation. If you could call it a conversation, that is. Black took the gesture as an answer, though, and Snape didn't bother to attempt to correct him.

"All that aside, Harry needs a protector, and you have fulfilled that role better than anyone else in his life. Better than I could as an escaped convict confined to Grimmauld Place, certainly. Better even than Dumbledore, who has a tendency to dismiss the sufferings and sacrifices of individuals so long as they serve the greater good.

"I know of at least one time you saved Harry's life, and I suspect that he would be dead half a dozen times over without your assistance. Even now you are watching out for him." Black tilted his head to indicate where Snape had rested his hand on Potter's chest so that he might be aware at once of any change in the teen's breathing patterns. "I believe he has a better chance of surviving this war with you alive, and so, for his sake—his, not yours!—I will not claim a grievance."

The specter of Black reached out and allowed one hand to brush past the shoulder of his unconscious godson. Without any further words, or even a backward glance, Black then walked up to the golden scales, spoke a few words that were too quiet for Snape to make out, and vanished. To Snape's great surprise, the scales tipped towards the good.

James was still dealing with the other specters, so Snape turned towards the one person he both longed and feared to see, fixing his eyes on her hands. He had several vivid memories from his fifth year of her expressions following his utterance of the unforgivable word—first pain, then disappointment, and later, as he tried to apologize, anger—and he did not think he could face that again. Not even the desire to look on her face again was strong enough to overcome his reluctance.

"You betrayed our friendship," she said, her voice oddly flat considering the harsh words. "You apologized, yes, but we were beyond words, Severus. If you had only tried, even just a little, to show me in your actions that you were sorry, that you…that you cared…" her voice broke on the last word, prompting Snape to look up at last.

For years as a spy he had witnessed heinous crimes and casual torture by Voldemort and his fellow Death Eaters without once betraying his distaste for what he saw, but glare Lily Potter was giving him caused him to flinch away in pain and remorse.

She cleared her throat before continuing, "But you didn't. Instead you sunk deeper into the darkness. You became a Death Eater! You joined an organization whose goal it was to destroy people like me! Perhaps I was wrong to give up on you, but I could see no way to continue when you valued my opinions, valued me so little."

Assurances of his unflagging care for her flew through Snape's mind followed by explanations and justifications for his choices. He opened his mouth, willing to suffer the pain of speaking for this, but snapped it shut a moment later. Although he wished to make her understand the lonely, hellish, depressive morass that had been his life at the time he knew no way that he could he explain to the vivacious, charming, popular woman that belonging to a group—any group—had been like a lifeline to a drowning man. More than that, he knew he would be attempting to defend the indefensible. Thought it had seemed the only reasonable way forward to his eighteen year-old self, he had long ago admitted to himself that joining the Death Eaters had been a mistake for more reasons than simply his role in Lily's death.

Guilt, ever present when he thought of those events, overwhelmed all sensation for several seconds. "I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to force his abused larynx to a louder volume, and grimacing at the pain even that little bit of sound caused.

"I know. And you did find your way back to the Light eventually, once you realized what you had done. When attempts to mitigate what you saw as the worst of your actions failed, you pledged to protect my son. Without you Harry would have been dead many times over." She shook her head, sadly.

"I am beyond angry with you for your mistakes, Severus Snape. And so, so proud of how you have worked to correct them." She reached out a ghostly hand, stopping just short of Snape's cheek. "But you cannot continue to live as you have been. You cannot live your life for one who is dead. I understand, you wish to atone, but I assure you that from my perspective you have done so several times over. You are forgiven for any harm you caused me, Severus. Now, you must find it within you to do the right thing simply because it is the right thing, not for the sake of a memory or a promise made to a manipulative bastard taking advantage of a moment of grief."

Dumbledore, Snape realized after a moment of thought. Lily was angry with Dumbledore.

On his behalf.

He could hardly credit it.

"You made a promise earlier to cease being a bully should you survive this night. I will hold you to it, Sev. I forgive you for what you have done to me, but for the way you have treated Harry…If you ever again, and I do mean ever treat my son in the despicable manner that you have done for the past years, do not doubt that I will make your life, or your afterlife, a nightmare beyond anything Voldemort could imagine. I believe you can do better."

Lily approached the scales, nodding to her husband as she passed him, and declared her forgiveness. Just before she vanished, she turned back to Snape. "Go in peace, my friend."

Snape could count on one hand the number of times he had cried since Lily's death: on her birthday the year after she had died, the first two anniversaries of her death, and upon returning to Hogwarts the night of Voldemort's return after having been tortured and forced to debase himself to regain the madman's trust. At her words, though, tears that he hadn't the energy to suppress welled up, spilling down his pale cheeks. Not even the face of James Potter standing in front of him could stop the silent flow.

"The others have gone," Potter said. "Most of them needed no convincing once the last war, Voldemort's atrocities, and your role as a spy were explained. It is only us now."

Snape waited, wondering where Potter would start his litany of the injustices Snape had perpetrated against him.

"You needn't look so worried, Snape. By agreeing to stand as your advocate, I abandoned any claim of grievance against you." Snape's face must have betrayed his shock, for Potter continued, "You didn't realize?"

Snape shook his head, instantly regretting the action. Spots had begun to swim in his vision even before he made the motion, and now they had multiplied. It was becoming more difficult to breathe as well, he noticed.

"My final job is to present any remaining acts of atonement before standing as the judge. This might be my last chance to speak to you on my own behalf, so I merely want to ask what my wife and my friend already have: should you survive, continue to watch over Harry. He has so few people in his life he can rely on."

The moment was too solemn for a nod, and Snape did not want to risk another dizzy spell. Bracing himself against the pain in his throat, he croaked, "I will."

James nodded, as though he had expected nothing less, and turned to the scales. "I come to present the full measure of the acts of good performed by Severus Snape, those undertaken out of remorse for prior misdeeds and those done for their own sake. His actions as a spy for Dumbledore: risking his life to obtain valuable information, obfuscating the plans of the Light, surreptitiously thwarting the actions of Voldemort and the Death Eaters in the heat of battle. All this and more I present to you on his behalf.

"His work as a potions teacher and researcher: every invention and advancement that has saved or bettered a life, every student who was better able to perform their jobs because of his standards of excellence. All this and more I present to you on his behalf.

"His actions as a teacher and protector of his students: saving the life of my son, his subtle but persistent actions to dissuade the children of his house from succumbing to the darkness. All this and more I present to you on his behalf.

"Severus Snape has made mistakes, some more grievous than others, but has worked assiduously to right his wrongs. As his advocate, I present the evidence of his repentance and seek the mercy of the fates."

Potter laid his hands on the scales, which shifted in response. The change was more than Snape expected, but he was unsurprised to see that the weight of his good deeds was not enough to balance out the evils he had perpetrated.

He looked away. This was the inevitable conclusion, the one he had known was coming from the moment he stepped into the circle, but it still hurt to see it there so baldly. Somehow a tendril of hope had managed to creep into his heart over the last hours as several of the shadows of his past forgave him.

Potter stirred under his hand, and Snape roused from his contemplation of his fate long enough to remember why he had undertaken this suicide mission in the first place. He cast another warming charm and the boys eyelids fluttered slightly but did not open.

It was then that Snape noticed a glow in his peripheral vision. A golden light, bright enough to hurt his eyes, had built around the scales and was now coalescing around the form of the elder Potter and fading to the point that Snape could now look directly at it. The man turned, surrounded by a gentle golden nimbus with a brighter glow having replaced the usual brown of his eyes.

The man in front of him was no longer James Potter. Snape was face to face with the Judge.

Snape bowed his head and waited for the pronouncement of his fate.