Previously: After learning that Quirrell-Mort wants Lily’s letter, Severus decided to take matters into his own hands by burning it once and for all. Destroying it, however, has brought about some unexpected consequences, consequences that Severus couldn’t have foreseen; consequences Ariel will be paying the price for…

————

When Ariel awoke, she could feel something was very, very wrong.

There were pinpricks in her fingertips, and stars in her eyes. Something inside of her felt bottomless, hollow and far away, like the spaces between planets. She could feel herself scattered all around, like she wasn’t in her body.

She sat up groggily, wincing as her head pounded. The room was dim, but she could see that it was huge — not as big as the Great Hall, but she could sense that the walls were far apart, the darkness shrouding the far corners so that Ariel could only see what was directly in front of her.

In front of her stood Quirrell, with his back to her. He was gazing into the Mirror of Erised — Ariel’s heart panged with longing to look into it again, before fear gripped at her throat. She forced herself to stand, her knees weak and feet heavy, but her mind felt surprisingly clear, despite the pain throbbing in her temple.

“It’s been you,” she croaked, not meaning to say it out loud, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t believe it — she hadn’t known who could have been helping Voldemort, but all she could picture were Fred and George flinging snowballs at the back of Quirrell’s head on Christmas Day, and now —

“You’re awake,” said Quirrell, like he’d been extremely put-off. “I was beginning to think you were dead. That would have been terribly annoying.”

She looked around, wincing as her head pounded. “Where am I?”

“This is where that old fool had been hiding the Stone.” Quirrell’s face twisted in disgust. “He thought he could outwit me and my Master, but we’ve been one step ahead all this time, biding our time until he could take you.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Why would you need me?”

Quirrell barked a cold, humorless laugh. “Why do you think, girl? The Stone is all that stands between you and your death — Dumbledore would’ve made sure my Master would never get it, but his precious savior child…”

“Your Master… you mean —”

“He’s been waiting for you,” Quirrell smiled, the same way Dudley had smiled at her while he thought of a lie to tell Aunt Petunia, only much worse, much scarier, much smarter. “He's been waiting for a long time, actually. He didn’t think it would be this easy, but you’ve proven to be much easier to manipulate…”

His words made her head spin. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve seen him, girl! Don’t deny it!”

inescapable darkness endless darkness

tell me tell me what it said

scissors in her teeth and a glass balloon in her chest

Ariel suddenly felt very weak, like she was going to faint, but she couldn’t — she wouldn’t. It was so hard to concentrate on his words, even though she knew all of this already, hearing Quirrell gloat about it was… strange. “I know it’s been him but you — you sent the Bludger after me, didn’t you?”

“And the troll,” Quirrell admitted calmly. “That was how I found out about your little secret. As I was letting it in, I caught you and Granger huddled over that letter, and when Filius said how desperate you were to undo your mother’s protective magics… well, my Master and I knew something very interesting must have been imparted to you. Were you ever able to undo the Charm, or was it too much for you?”

lie lie lie to him don’t let him know

it’s gone forever you’ll never get it

The fuzzy feeling faded, like water being sucked through a straw. Her head was clear, and bright, and all she could think of was Snape’s face in the firelight, his eyes and voice bottomless —

“No,” Ariel said tonelessly. “I burned it.”

She could instantly tell this was not the answer he wanted to hear. Quirrell went very still, but she saw that he’d carefully slipped his wand down his sleeve, and into his palm.

“You’re going to tell me what was in that letter,” Quirrell said, his voice quiet, but each word was succinct, like he wanted them to jab her brain.

She stared at him, stunned. “Why? Why do you want it so badly? It’s just a stupid letter!”

“You tell me.” Quirrell gave a threatening smile. “You didn’t think I was perceptive, did you? You didn’t think I would catch on that there was something… important your mother imparted to you? I overheard Filius telling Dumbledore how desperate you were to uncover your mother’s protective magics. Severus was after it too, wasn’t he? He was rather bothered by it, but that shouldn’t have been surprising. He wanted the secret all to himself… did he manage to pull it out of you, after all those detentions?”

Ariel’s ears were ringing. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Quirrell took a step towards her, but Ariel stood her ground. “That little letter has created quite the fuss, hasn’t it Evans?

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I don’t see why what my mum wrote to me bothers you so much. Too much time on your hands since getting the Stone hasn’t been so easy, yeah?”

His nostrils flared angrily. “Tell me what it said, girl, or I will force it out of you.”

She took a wary step back, feeling the inside of her sleeves for her wand, but she couldn’t feel it — Quirrell must’ve taken it. “What do you think is inside it?”

“Don’t play cheeky games with me! I know your mother must have known why my Master sought you out… what powers lay dormant within you.”

Ariel almost burst out laughing. “You think I have special powers?”

Quirrell snapped his fingers, and ropes appeared, tying themselves around her wrists before she could process what was happening. She struggled against them, twisting her hands as she tried to slip through the knots, but they were too tight — she was trapped.

“Perhaps not,” he said disdainfully. “You are, after all, rather unremarkable. I almost pity Severus for putting up with you all those nights, but it is of no matter now. Once I have the Stone, my Master will have his way with you once more, and he will return to his former glory.”

Ariel quickly racked her brain for a plan. She couldn’t let him get the Stone, but she was also completely baffled. The Giant Smoke Monster — who was really Voldemort — had taken her down here, she remembered that, but where was he? Why was only Quirrell here? If he really wanted answers about the letter and the Stone, why didn’t Voldemort just pop up and do it himself? He’d made her sock Malfoy in the face — Voldemort didn’t seem like the type of bloke who would leave something this important to someone like Quirrell, even though he was pretty nasty.

“This damn Mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell circled in, like a hungry lion stalking its prey. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this, but he’s in London — I’ll be far away by the time he gets back.”

Ariel felt her veins turn to ice. She needed to call for help, she needed Snape, but the coin was in her rucksack in Dumbledore’s office —

“I see the Stone, I’m presenting it to my Master, but where is it?” Quirrell fumed.

She had to keep him distracted. If the Stone really was inside the Mirror, she couldn’t let him get it —

“You ask a lot of questions for an evil henchman.” she said. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Patience is a virtue, Evans. I couldn’t take you and the Stone whenever I pleased… I had to bide my time… our time…”

Ariel felt something cold slide down her spine. “You mean Voldemort… he was that thing I was seeing, wasn’t he?”

Quirrell smirked at her. “My Master was quite pleased with that, you know. A silly child like you is no match for him, but how quickly moldable you were… how easily he was able to control you. He knew then that taking you would be an easy feat. He would have taken you sooner, but Severus has been watching you annoyingly closely.”

Her head felt like it was floating off her shoulders, but she knew she had to play dumb to get more answers. “Why would Snape care?”

“Oh, he hates you.” Quirrell laughed, but it was devoid of humor. “Your father and him had quite the rivalry while they were in school together.”

Ariel felt her stomach twist into nine different knots. “What are you talking about? They knew each other?”

“He hated your father, didn’t you know?” Quirrell went on, almost mercilessly. “I’d suppose that’s why he’s had you in detention every chance he got.”

Ariel desperately wanted to know more. Snape had never mentioned James, not once. “Why did he hate him?”

“I would imagine he was quite jealous… Potter was Head Boy, star of the Quidditch team, well liked. Severus was almost the polar opposite.”

What about Mum? “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Of course you don’t,” Quirrell said, waving a dismissive hand. “You stupid girl —”

“Use the girl… use the girl…”

Ariel froze, unable to move. She knew that voice — it was —

Quirrell rounded on his heel. “Yes — Evans! Come here!”

She couldn’t process what was happening, not even when her body hit the floor, pain spreading up through her arms. She was so cold cold cold —

“Come here,” Quirrell repeated, sounding impatient. “Tell me what you see, Evans.”

Ariel didn’t want to look into the Mirror again, but Quirrell was pointing right at it, and there was nowhere to go, no way to fight without her wand. She crept towards it slowly, not taking her eyes off Quirrell, but also terrified that any second, the Giant Smoke Monster would come barreling down on her again. She mustered together every ounce of courage she had, every last drop, making it so that her fists did not shake, that her feet did not stumble, and that her heart would not break when she met her parent’s eyes — maybe for the last time.

It was with that thought that Ariel felt her eyes slide shut, and suddenly, she was back in Dumbledore’s office, where she’d been only hours — maybe even minutes — ago. She thought of the hum of magic and the hum of rage in her teeth, of how Snape had stared down at her like she would shatter into a thousand pieces after he’d thrown Mum’s letter into the fireplace. But Ariel hadn’t shattered, she’d taken all of that rage and grief and clung onto it, because feeling something was better than feeling nothing, better than knowing that she had lost all three of them and they weren’t ever coming back, no one was coming for her no one no one no one —

She thought of escaping. She thought of stopping Voldemort, of keeping him from hurting the ones she loved. If he got the Stone, no one would be safe. He’d hurt Ron and Hermione —

When Ariel opened her eyes, she met her own reflection, who held out the Stone to her with a grin. It waved, like she was an old friend she hadn’t seen in a long time and dropped the Stone into her pocket.

Ariel felt something heavy drop into her own and had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling.

“Well?” Quirrell snapped impatiently. “What do you see?”

She thought of something silly, something she’d daydreamed about at the start of the year. “I’m… I’m having dinner with the Weasley’s. We’re at their dinner table, and Hermione’s there — Mrs Weasley’s made my favorite —”

“Get out of the way,” Quirrell shoved her aside, and she stumbled backwards, quickly trying to put as much space in between her and him as possible. “I should have known you would be useless —”

“She lies… she lies…” hissed a cold, high voice.

The air around her suddenly felt heavy, like she was running out of air.

“Evans, get back here!” Quirrell snarled. “Tell me the truth, you little brat! What did you just see?”

She pushed herself to her feet, searching for somewhere to run, when she heard it again.

“Let me speak to her… face to face…” said the voice, but it wasn’t Quirrell, his lips weren’t moving —

“No, Master, you are not strong enough after taking her!” Quirrell cried.

“I have strength enough… for this.”

———

“Severus?”

The soft, puzzled voice of Dumbledore broke through the thick silence as morning came, the first rays of light glowing beyond the frosted panes.

Severus did not turn, but felt Dumbledore’s eyes on his back. His neck ached from hanging so low, from being bent towards the ground for so long. He felt like he hadn’t moved in a millennium, unable to face the forgotten rucksack that lay between him and the door. He’d counted the porcelain animals Dumbledore kept on a shelf above the fireplace, his Occlumency letting him float numbly— he’d gotten up to two-hundred and seven when the Floo finally spat the old man out.

Severus knew when Dumbledore saw it when he heard the resigned exhale, as just seeing the bag was enough to piece together what had happened. He certainly knew who had been here, at the very least.

Dumbledore did not ask what was wrong, or what had happened. He simply stood in place, hands folded patiently in front of him, and waited.

“The Dark Lord is in the Forest,” said Severus after a moment. “feeding on fucking unicorns to stay alive.”

There was a long, almost endless, silence before Dumbledore spoke. “I had wondered what Tom would do in order to maintain his form. I would suppose that lingering between life and death does demand some sort of sustenance, especially after all of this time.”

Little flecks of rage dug into him at Dumbledore’s seeming indifference. “The girl saw it.”

Dumbledore’s expression did not change. “Did she?”

“During her detention with Hagrid,” the rage built, stacking itself until it was a wall, towering over him, towering over them both. “which I told you was a stupid idea from the beginning —”

“I would assume she is alright, regardless.” Dumbledore’s eyes flitted to the rucksack. “Or I would imagine we would be having a very different conversation.”

Severus’ arm swung, flinging one of the dragons into the fire. “I thought you fucking cared about what happened to that girl —”

“I very much do,” Dumbledore said, and his voice was serious for once, devoid of any sort of assuages and reassurance. “I would not have let her go if I did not think she was protected.”

“She wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t been there!”

He realized his mistake the second the words left his mouth. His anger burned like piping hot coal in the very center of his chest.

“But you were,” Dumbledore said softly. “because you knew that if she needed you, you had to be there.”

“Oh, I was there,” Severus spat back viciously. “Do you know what it wanted, Headmaster? Do you know why it’s been hounding her, why it won’t leave her alone?”

Dumbledore didn’t even blink. “Why, the Stone of course.”

“It wants the letter.” Severus threw back at him, almost relishing the look of surprise on the old man’s face. It would have felt far more satisfying had the words not clung to his throat like cobwebs, had the girl’s twisted face not flashed through his mind.

Dumbledore did not say anything for a long while. He stared out the window, and Severus could practically see the wheels turning in his head, connecting together what this meant, that the Dark Lord was more entrenched in the school than the pair of them had ever imagined, and why Lily’s daughter’s rucksack sat in the middle of the floor, the only silent member of the conversation who was the loudest of all.

“Well?” Severus asked. “Have I finally rendered you speechless?

His mouth opened and closed before letting himself settle against the front of his desk. “Did Ariel say why?”

“No, but he was… quite desperate.”

“He wasn’t able to take it from her, I gather?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows knitted together.

“You think I would have let that happen?”

“But something did happen to it,” Dumbledore’s eyes seared straight through him, like an x-ray. “Didn’t it, Severus?”

The fire popped in the hearth. Outside, the wind howled against the windowpanes, rattling the glass. Severus felt like the glass, battered and worn and cold.

“I burned it,” Severus forced out. “I destroyed it — she watched me do it. She begged me not to, and I did it anyway.”

There was a heavy, oppressive silence, one that clung to the air around him, making it difficult to breathe.

“I see,” Dumbledore said, and the disappointment in his voice was impossible to ignore.

“Good riddance,” Severus said, and the words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“You cannot possibly mean that.” Dumbledore said sharply. The sharpness caught Severus by surprise, who had only anticipated sad glances and a lecture on the power of love — on the sacrifice Lily had given, and what her only words to their daughter would do — but Severus knew. He had wanted it — he had to protect that foolish child, had to —

“She is safe, now.” Severus said. “That’s all that matters.”

The old man’s expression hardened. “Safe? Physically, yes, she is safe. You have, however, taken away the one thing that was her true refuge. And for what, Severus?”

“For her own sake! She cannot be allowed to believe that I am in any way suitable —”

“That is not for you to decide.”

“Is it not?” Severus snapped. “You cannot have it both ways, Albus. I am her father — I am making the decision to not assume that role for her own good. If she were to find out what I have done, what I did to her mother and Potter, would that not be a greater blow? Your precious love would not be enough to protect her from that particular truth.”

Dumbledore's eyes filled with sadness, or perhaps it was pity. “You have taken that choice from her.”

His words hit Severus like a Bludger to the chest. He thought of the girl standing protectively in front of Granger in the stands, of her imploring face after Hagrid’s mutt had tried to rip his leg off, of the worry and determination set in her thin face. Alone with his thoughts after the girl had left, Severus had realized that if he hadn’t destroyed the letter, he wouldn’t have been able to handle her turning away from him. Burning Lily’s letter had been as much about protecting himself as it had been protecting her.

“Why give her the choice at all?” Severus asked. “Why put her through all of that misery, when I can protect her from afar, without her learning all that I have done? I ruined her life long before she was born, Albus.”

“It is by your own volition that she is alive.”

Severus’ stomach churned with guilt. “And that her mother is dead.”

“You have run from this as though you have a choice.” Dumbledore said sternly. “You cannot disown what is already yours. There is always a return, and it will either be a reconciliation, or revenge. It is up to you to shape what Ariel will come to, in time.”

“I’ve done enough —”

“You have done nothing yet.”

Severus couldn’t help it — he flinched. “I swore I would keep her away from that damn madman, that I would protect the last of Lily. What more would you ask of me? I cannot return to the Dark Lord and be what the girl wants. I cannot, Albus!”

Dumbledore paused. “Do you recall what Ariel said to me, the night she looked into the Mirror?”

This was the first time he had brought it up. Severus assumed he had done so out of mercy, but with everything laid bare, he supposed there was no room for mercy, or for empathy. Not after what he had done to her. “They were the wishes of an ignorant child.”

“It was hope,” said Dumbledore. “and hope is the last thing ever lost.”

There was an endless silence that spanned between them. The glass from the smashed figurine popped in the hearth.

Dumbledore’s face went blank, and his head turned to the door to his office. “We have visitors.”

Severus moved to leave, but the old man lifted a hand to stop him. For a moment, Severus thought it was the girl, and he felt the urge to run, to get as far away as possible, for as the door to the Headmaster’s office creaked open, he immediately recognized the mess of hair.

It was Granger and Weasley-twerp, who looked as happy to see Severus as he was to see them. They stepped inside cautiously, like they were testing the floor to see if it was booby-trapped. Some flickers of relief managed to cross their faces, however, when they saw Dumbledore standing by his desk, realizing that they were not alone with Severus.

“We’re sorry to interrupt, Headmaster,” Granger said in a meek voice, one that didn’t sound anything like her normal self — one that Severus did not believe for a second.

“Please don’t apologize, my dear.” Dumbledore said gently. “Though I must ask if this is urgent, it is quite early —”

“It is,” Granger interrupted. “It’s about Ariel.”

Weasley-twerp stared up at Severus like he was going to impale him with his wand. Severus wondered what the girl had said to him.

“Ariel never came back,” Granger said. “to Gryffindor Tower, I mean. She’s missing.”

Something inside of Severus snapped in half.

Dumbledore must have sensed this, or maybe he heard the last shred of control Severus had breaking, because he very quickly said. “Are you certain, Miss Granger?”

“She wasn’t in her bed, and she’s nowhere in Gryffindor Tower.” Granger shuffled her feet nervously, but her voice was strong and clear. “Ron came back from his detention hours ago, but he said Ariel had gone with Professor Snape, sir.”

This earned Severus another murderous glare from Weasley-twerp. Severus mustered together something that would have made Longbottom drop dead, but Weasley-twerp leveled his gaze, not breaking eye contact. Had Severus not been on the brink of losing his fucking mind, he would have been impressed.

“She’s gone after that damn Stone,” Severus began, his voice a low rumble. “I know it — the three of you refused to mind your own damn business and now she’s gone and done something moronic —”

“She hasn’t!” Weasley-twerp shot up at them. “Show them the bracelet, Hermione!”

“What does a bracelet have to do with —”

Dumbledore held up a hand. “I would very much like to hear what Miss Granger has to say, Severus.”

Granger lifted up her wrist. “I noticed it when I woke up… it’s a Charmed friendship bracelet, you see. Ariel got them for us for Christmas, it tells us what the other is feeling. When we’re asleep, they turn grey, and it’s… well…”

The dim light shone, casting long shadows across all of their faces as the wind wailed outside. Severus could feel his breathing becoming shallow, the air burning on every inhale. If the girl wasn’t asleep in Gryffindor Tower, then where the fuck had she gone? He had to find her, had to go —

“But sir, that’s not all…”

Weasley-twerp pulled his arms from behind his back, revealing Potter’s Cloak. “We found this on the way to your office.” he said shakily. “Ariel never would have left this lying around.”

Granger’s arm lifted suddenly, her face drained of color, and her eyes glued to the bracelet. It glowed a deep purple, the color of bruised knees and lock-picking spells.

“She’s awake!” Weasley-twerp looked relieved, but Granger’s expression did not change. She looked up at Severus, her amber eyes wide with fear, with panic, with one simple request.

“And what does this color mean?” Dumbledore asked, as if he already knew the answer.

Granger took a deep breath, and said, “Fear.”

————

Ariel couldn’t help it — she screamed when she saw the Horrible Thing on the back of Quirrell’s head. She couldn’t imagine anything more horrible, it’s red eyes the same ones she had seen in the Giant Smoke Monster, only this time, it had a face, if it could even be called that. Its face was the color of bone with blood-red eyes, as if that was all it was, stripped of skin and muscle and tissue, leaving behind this thing that looked like a corpse, but wasn’t…

“Ariel Evans…” the Horrible Thing whispered. “See what I have become?”

When her brain finally started working again, she forced herself to speak. “It can’t be, you’re that — that thing I’ve seen!”

“I have been searching for you, Evans.” Voldemort hissed. “For years I searched, but you remained hidden to me, as I remained hidden to most. And yet, the moment I presented myself to you — what is left of me, mere shadow and vapor — you could see me, hear me. I was weak, but you could tell when I was near, could hear my demands and could not silence them.”

Why, Ariel wanted to scream, what are you, why is it me —

She forced herself to stand, stumbling backwards. She couldn’t feel her legs, couldn’t feel anything —

“Don’t be stupid, you foolish girl!” Voldemort’s face sneered. “Better to save your own life and come willingly, or you’ll meet the same end as your pathetic parents. They died begging me for mercy.”

Ariel felt her fear flake away, then. It burned and burned, just like the letter in the fire, until she was shaking with anger. “You’re a liar! My parents never would have lowered themselves to fear you.”

He smiled then, if it could be called that at all. The face appeared more contorted, more sinister, more evil. “How touching,” he hissed. “Yes, girl, your parents were brave. I killed your father first, and he put up quite a courageous fight —”

Ariel’s hands went numb, and she thought of the smiling face that had beamed up at her in her parent’s wedding photo. She thought of that same face set in grim determination as it stood between Voldemort and Mum —

“But your mother needn’t have died,” Voldemort continued, mercilessly. “She was only trying to protect you, and you are your mother’s legacy, after all — a legacy that will end similarly if you don’t give me that Stone in your pocket.”

She felt her insides sink, like a ship giving anchor.

Ariel slammed all of her weight into Quirrell and ran. She didn’t manage to get very far — he was on her in seconds, his hands grabbing a fistful of her robes. His palm collided with her cheek, sending her flying backwards. Ariel scrambled to her feet, but Quirrell was already on her, pinning down her wrists as she struggled to get back on her feet.

She was surprised, however, when Quirrell almost immediately let go. His hands began to blister before their eyes as he moaned in pain. “I can’t hold her, Master!” Quirrell howled.

“Seize her!” Voldemort screeched, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Seize her until I am finished with her!”

Ariel did not like the sound of that one bit. She clenched her teeth, darting upwards as she scanned the darkness for an exit, but she couldn’t see, couldn’t focus through the haze of pain and fear —

Quirrell lunged at her again, pinning her down as he shrieked in pain again. Ariel clamped her hands down around his wrists, squeezing as Quirrell got louder and louder, the pain in her scar building until they were both screaming. She let go of his wrists and pressed her hands against his face with every fiber of strength she had.

Please die, she thought, please stop just give up and die —

All of the sound left the room then, Quirrell’s howls and cries of pain cut short, like her head had been shoved underwater. It was the same exact feeling she’d had the first time she’d seen Voldemort in the Great Hall, only this time, she had this overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, as though all of a sudden, she shouldn’t be fighting Quirrell, not wanting him to die, but wanting to give in. Ariel was distantly aware these weren’t her thoughts, but she couldn’t focus, couldn’t pin down a sentence or even a word of her own.

Let me in, said a voice, and everything went — red.

This time was different. Voldemort hovered over her, and Ariel could feel that sinking cold enveloping her, his thoughts invading her own like vines, wrapping themselves around her until she could scarcely breath, until all she could do was scream. It was while she screamed that she thought of giving up, of letting go and surrendering unto the blackness again, like she had earlier as she’d sobbed against the stone. She couldn’t feel anything in the black, couldn’t remember why she’d been so upset, couldn’t remember all she’d lost and all she would lose, if she gave up.

She could feel Voldemort in her thoughts, and the more she thought about what she’d lost, she could feel him becoming angrier — he wanted to know what Mum had said, what was so important that Mum had Charmed a letter and left it in a trunk in Aunt Petunia’s attic, but Ariel couldn’t let him, because Snape —

he is without a doubt the fiercest man I have ever known

Ariel thought of the letter and of her mum. Both of them were gone, but Ariel could remember — she could remember her words and her handwriting, proof she had existed, that she had loved her and wanted her to be safe. It didn’t matter that Snape had burned it, because you couldn’t destroy the fact that her Mum had loved her, and that Ariel loved and missed her so badly that she felt it in her bones.

the waves too dark and deep to swim

She could feel Voldemort’s hold began to lessen, but his desperation grew —

as she fights hard against the tide

He clawed away at her mind, but he was losing his grip, because the more Ariel let go of Mum, the more she thought of what her love had done, what it was doing —

he swears a sacred vow that ever loved one keeps

That feeling burrowed through the fog, through the darkness and then black, until all she could see white — light blinding the room and filling her up up up —

takes one last breath

And then she was there — the woman in the mirror, only this time, Ariel knew who it was. She was smiling, so big and wide that it warmed Ariel all the way down to her toes, the cold fading away as the light did. The brighter it grew, the louder the screaming became, only it wasn’t Ariel screaming anymore. Whatever was making that noise — like a phantom being ripped from its haunting — it was getting louder, more desperate, like it had lived a thousand lifetimes for this moment, only to fail —

“It’s not us,” Ariel wheezed. “It’s you. It’s only you. I’m me, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

and leaps

And then her world exploded.

—————

it was the only thing I ever had

Someone was speaking, someone was telling him to slow down.

I’m all alone now

A voice was telling him to take a moment, to let him pass, to allow him to assist.

are you happy?

No, he was terrified, he was going to bring the castle down on himself and everyone else if something had happened to that girl, because they had all let her down, but he more than anyone.

is that what you wanted all this time?

Another voice was ordering the children back to the dormitory, where they would be safe, where she should have been. That was what he had wanted, for her to be safe.

I’m all alone now, she said — she was. She was all alone. Granger kept saying that — she was all alone, she needed them —

Severus was running.

—————

A sound ripped through the room, something like a roar of an injured animal.

Ariel forced herself to sit up, her scar searing her temple with white hot pain. When she reached a shaky hand to touch it, she found that she was bleeding. The fog had lifted though — she could see and hear clearly now, and someone was calling —

She could hear people shouting her name — Hermione and Ron — Hermione and Ron —

The next thing Ariel knew, she was on her hands and knees, trying to get to them, desperate and tired and still so scared. Everything was hazy, like early morning on a foggy day, or when Fred had stolen Percy’s glasses and let Ariel try them on.

Quirrell was on the ground, crawling towards the window where The Thing That Was Really Voldemort had fled through. “M-master — Master please, come back! D-don’t leave m-me!”

Ariel could hear the slap of boots against stone getting closer. Ariel tried to stand, but her legs felt like they were made of jelly, and her right arm felt like it had gone through a meat grinder. She tried to call out, to let them know she was here, but her voice had gone from her. The only sounds she could make were a few coughs, making her feel ten times worse.

That was when Quirrell noticed her, again. His eyes were red and crazed — not like Voldemort’s, but they were just as scary, but in a different way. She’d gotten the same feeling when Dudley had made up a lie to get her in trouble, and Aunt Petunia’s eyes had landed on her.

“Y-you,” he lifted an unsteady, accusing finger at her. “y-you little b-bitch! He’s abandoned m-me because of y-you!”

She tried to tell him that it wasn’t her fault that half of his skull was now missing, which was now all she could think about as she stared at him. It was like a crater had been dug behind where his turban had once been, blood and all sorts of things Ariel couldn’t make herself look at a mess on the floor. She balked, scrambling backwards, but he was on her in a flash, his hands around her throat —

Until he wasn’t, because the boots and the shouts had arrived, only the shouts didn’t reach her first. A burst of crimson light did, bathing the room in its glow as something shot forward, knocking Quirrell halfway across the room. Ariel coughed and sputtered, leaning forward just in time to see Snape rushing forward towards her. Her whole chest seemed to release with relief, that was, until she got a good look at his face. Ariel had seen him disappear inside himself before, but this was different. Snape’s face had gone blank, his black eyes somehow focused and unfocused at the same time, as though he were fighting a war from within.

As Ariel gasped for breath, she felt someone — two someone’s, actually — grabbing at her shoulders, pulling her upright. Hermione’s hair tickled at her face as she hugged her, could smell the violet bubble bath she used every night and hear her worried sobs asking if she was alright. Somewhere behind them she could hear Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, but their words were garbled and far away. Ariel gripped back at Ron and Hermione tightly, but when they pulled away, she wished that they hadn’t.

She found Snape just in time to see his boot go straight through Quirrell’s skull with a sickening crack.

Hermione made a noise that sounded a lot like choking, but when Ariel forced herself to look away from what was left of Quirrell’s face, she saw that she was gagging.

“What happened to him?” Ron stammered. “Why’s his head look like a smashed pumpkin?”

Ariel sucked in a deep breath — her throat was on fire. “It was Voldemort, he was living on the back of his head.”

“He what?”

“He wanted the Stone… and the letter too, but mostly the Stone. I think.”

At the sound of her voice, Snape’s head snapped towards them like a dog that had caught a rabbit’s scent. Before she could register what was happening, Ron and Hermione were gone, and Snape was kneeling in front of her. He leaned over her, and his eyes were empty, but she could see the light at the bottom hurtling towards her, like a bullet train racing towards its destination —

“Goddamn you,” he whispered. His hand gripped the nape of her neck.

Ariel had the strangest urge to laugh, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked at the light, and realized it had never been fear staring back at her, or hatred. It was sadness, maybe even grief, made up of light and gold, the same thing in her dreams and in her heart.

The last thing Ariel could remember was a heartbeat below her ear, and air rushing between her fingers.

——————

A/N: I’m sorry this chapter is months late and that I left you all on a particularly cruel cliffhanger. Something happened in my personal life that has taken quite a toll, and I haven’t been able to write an angsty chapter while dealing with being stressed/anxious myself. I am much better and I am okay, so please don’t worry :) I hope to be back more regularly soon.

Next chapter is the finale of Philosopher’s Stone; can Snape manage to muster together a good enough apology? Let’s find out! Also, many of your questions about the Smoke Monster will be answered, since Voldemort was about as helpful as a paper towel. I’d love to hear theories, though!

If you could leave a review, I will hoard them in my email and read them obsessively (jk, only a little bit)

Until next time — x