The world was one vast expanse of whiteness. Severus rose, slowly, trying to shake the fog from his mind. He...should have died, shouldn't he? So where was he? The answer came quite quickly, supplied by his now ever-present phoenix intuition. I'm in between. The thought did not terrify him as much as it might have in years past. He was, however, sorrowful, and a little frustrated that this was his end, that he would not live to see Voldemort die, not live to see Harry established and at peace, not live to publish the potions that he had wanted to for years, collecting in a notebook as heavily warded as Azkaban to publish when the war was finally over. All the same, unless you were Harry Potter, no one could just bounce back from a killing curse, and Severus was stoic enough not to rage at his abrupt death, especially as it had been, at least, for a reason. Harry would survive, and that was all that mattered.

He was also quite curious. This was not what he had expected the afterlife to take form as, and he had certainly done quite a lot of morbid thinking and writing about that. He'd researched nearly every muggle and wizarding belief system, wondering about his own mortality, meditating on the Elysium and Tartarus of the Greeks, the Heaven of the Christians, the Hel of the Vikings, the reincarnation of the Japanese, and the Western land of the Egyptians, and many others, as well as the corresponding wizarding beliefs. He had to admit that he was quite heartened there was not a crocodile/hippopotamus/lion hybrid waiting to swallow his soul. What would happen now?

He was answered as the hall slowly began to take shape, color gradually soaking into the blank mist, which parted to reveal the Great Hall of Hogwarts. He knew immediately that it was not his Hogwarts, however, because it was unnaturally calm and empty seeming too vast, and too empty, with not even a trace of the battle that had been raging there only (to him) moments before. It was at this moment that he became cognizant that he did not have his wand, nor was he dressed. He supposed he would not need either of those things here, but he still felt irrationally vulnerable. Even as he thought this, however, his usual heavy black teaching robes materialized around him.

Nothing seemed to have changed other than that, however. Severus gazed around him, wondering what was supposed to happen, if he should just start walking, (or however he was locamoting, since he no longer had corporeal legs). And that was when he heard a voice he never thought he would hear again.

"Severus!"

Severus whipped around, unable to breathe (not that he needed to, he supposed). It took him a few moments before he could compose himself even just to speak. "L-Lily?"

She was just as beautiful, just as perfect, as when she had been alive, like a flower preserved forever before it wilts. Red hair tumbled over her shoulders in a waterfall, just as he remembered, and almond-shaped green eyes, the same shade as her son's glimmered in a kind of supernatural light that blazed around her. She was wearing the beautiful tasseled pale gold dress she had worn to the Yule Ball, so many years ago, when they had still been friends, and he had asked to go with her, though only in friendship- he'd known even back then that she had not loved him romantically, if at all.

She took a slow step closer, and then another. Severus couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare as she approached. And then she reached out, and slapped him across the cheek.

Severus reeled. Admittedly, in his darkest dreams, he had envisioned her reproach, but it still hurt. Oh, Merlin, it hurt, though the slap itself was little more than a sting. All the years he had tried to atone, all the years he had spent trying to make it up...he'd always known somewhere inside that it would not be enough- nothing could be, but Merlin help him, it hurt just as much as it had in his fifth year, so many years ago. He tried desperately to formulate an apology, but before he could say more than a word, she clapped her hand over his mouth and dragged him into a ferocious embrace. "You stupid, idiotic, wonderful man!"

Severus's brain short-circuited. "Lily, what...?" he tried to say, still muffled by her hand. She drew back, regarding him.

"I never thought you'd be more Gryffindor than my son," she continued, and now she was smiling, the sparkle back in her gorgeous green eyes. "You could have just conjured something to block it, you know."

"He was going to die, Lily!"

Her smile softened. "I know. Oh, Severus, I'm so proud of you."

He had not expected to hear that, either.

"Proud?" he whispered, ashamed to notice that his voice had cracked. "Lily, I failed you. How?"

"Stop that right now, Severus Snape! Yes, you were an arse, but you've already more than paid for your mistakes. Besides, you are the reason Harry survived the Killing Curse, do you know that?"

"I was the one who told him the prophecy," Severus began brokenly, before the rest of what Lily had said caught up to him. "I what?!"

"Thousands of mothers, all throughout history, have sacrificed themselves for their children. It never did a bit of good before now. You know why?"

"I thought it was the horcrux...?"

"That vile thing had nothing to do with it! No, it was the fact that you made him swear to spare me." She paused, as if reminiscing. "He gave me the option to step aside, but I didn't take it. I didn't refuse, either, I just said 'no, not Harry'. But he lost his patience. I suppose he thought that he'd already adequately fulfilled his promise. So he just killed me, and then the amnesty he was supposed to have offered me was passed to Harry, so when he tried to kill him, the curse just bounced off." She smiled faintly. "You've come a long way, Severus. Such a long way from the boy I once knew and the teenager who hurt me."

The misty rendition of the Great Hall seemed unusually bright. Severus simply stood there, swaying, unable to comprehend, not even caring about the drops of illusory liquid trickling down his cheeks. After so long... "But I was a Death Eater," was all he could say. "I brewed agonizing poisons for the Dark Lord. I murdered. I tormented the students in my care. I hurt Harry, too- those occlumensy lessons. How can you simply stand there and say you are proud?"

"Because I am." Lily reached out, slender fingers tugging up his cuff, revealing his bare forearm, the first time he had pulled up his sleeves since the ritual. "You see that? Your mark wouldn't be gone if you had been a true Death Eater. And as long as I have been watching you, you never killed for sport, never killed except to euthanize the prisoners the others tortured into madness. And yes, you hurt Harry- that was what the slap was for. But you stopped, didn't you? Severus, I was indeed angry at you, angry for a long time. I'm not going to lie. But there's a lot of perspective to be gained here, and I've seen the good things you've done, too, the things that you feel aren't worthy enough to acknowledge, even if they are. I've seen you cast a patronus so strong that it can destroy dementors. I've seen you comfort your little Slytherins when they have no one else to do so. I've seen you spend all night brewing because a student needs a difficult potion, and then get right back up to teach in two hours. I've seen you come back from Death Eater meetings bleeding, and go straight to make your report when you should have been headed to the hospital wing. I've seen you, Severus, and that is why I am proud."

"Lily flower, I-"

"Shh. I'm not finished, and we don't have that much time here. You've got to go back, and soon."

"I what? Back to where?" Severus asked. She couldn't have said what he'd thought she said.

"That was exactly what I said," said Lily calmly, and Severus realized that he'd spoken out loud. "Severus, ordinarily this would be impossible. The killing curse is the killing curse, and that's that. But you are a phoenix now, and there are different rules."

"I am a phoenix? I thought-"

"You know what the Sacred Triple Bond entails, don't you? Bound minds, bounds souls, and matching animagus forms." She smiled. "You are a phoenix."

"So that means..."

"You can go back, yes. You are literally functionally immortal, as a matter of fact, as is Harry. The other option open to you is reincarnation with your memories wiped, but you can never truly die, not anymore," she said, almost sadly.

"But, if I go back...won't I be an infant again, if I'm now a phoenix?"

She shook her head. "You would think, yes, but that isn't how it works. You would be reborn at the same age you became a phoenix, which in your case is thirty-seven and in Harry's case is sixteen. Any damage done to your body previously will be healed, and your memories would be intact."

"What happens if I go dark, one day? If I'm a phoenix...is that even possible? Would I just die?"

"It..." she hesitated. "It's possible. For a phoenix to go dark, I mean. I can't say any more. But Severus, there is literally no way you could go dark, and I know you could stop Harry if he started down that path."

Severus took a moment to digest that. Then something else occurred to him. "What about...if I was to marry, or if Harry were to, what would that do to the bond?" Not that he had any intentions of marrying, but he knew Harry would one day want to.

"Nothing, substantially. If you used an unbreakable bond during your marriage vows, then perhaps your partner, or Harry's, would be able to telepathically communicate with both of you, but it shouldn't prevent you from finding love. And," her eyes sparkled with laughter, "there is a way to block the telepathy, an extraordinarily simple way, too. You'll have to figure it out on your own, though..."

"Can't you tell me?" he asked, feeling childish for saying it but desperate to know how to control the mind link.

She grinned. "I could, but I won't. I shouldn't have to do everything for you, Sev, and besides, it's fun to watch you two accidentally send personal thoughts."

Her grin was contagious, and before Severus realized what he was doing, the corners of his lips quirked up in an odd smile. Some part of him still wondered if all of this was nothing more than a bright delirium preceding death, but even if it was, he would not change any of it. Any at all. He might have made some irrelevant response, might have asked her about the afterlife, but she was growing paler, and the hall mistier, and he knew that he did not have much more time left.

"So I'm a phoenix and I'm now immortal, and so is Harry. And there's a potential way to control the mind link. Is there anything else I need to know?" He knew that when he had a moment to think, he would probably panic, but as it was, he was merely eerily calm.

"Only that I love you," she said quietly. "Not romantically, but oh, Sev, I missed you so much!" She straightened. "Tell Harry I love him too, that I wish that I could be there for him. And Sev?"

"Y-yes?" Severus asked, tears now flowing freely down his face, nor did he even notice. Oh, Merlin, she actually cared.

"Remember, Lord Voldemort is not the only problem you're going to have to face. I can't tell you anymore- we're not supposed to interfere- but you've got to be on your guard, and not just in the battle. That said, you've got to get going, and soon." Her face was already growing more translucent, and he could see the brick walls of Hogwarts through her delicate skin. "Give Voldie hell from me and James!" She caught him up in a tight hug, and he could smell the cinnamon and clove perfume she always wore- for some strange reason, she could never stand floral perfume, even waterlily- and all he could think about was her warmth, and her closeness, and those gorgeous green eyes.

Then he opened his eyes on the floor of the actual Great Hall of Hogwarts, his entire body uncomfortably warm from phoenix fire, which was rising around him in sparking tongues of silver flame, bathing his whole body with power.

He got to his feet unsteadily, glancing around him with quick black eyes, but no one was so much as watching where he had fallen. And for good reason, too, he realized as he saw the situation.

He'd never been angrier in his life, not even on that ill-fated day when Harry witnessed his worst memory without permission. The Light fighters, at least those who had survived, and there were many who hadn't, seemed to be battling one another, while Harry lay at the Dark Lord's feet, bleeding from hundreds of wounds, his phoenix fire barely able to keep up with the damage. That was when he noticed something else, something that was truly appalling. The Dark Lord had made the fallen students, Astoria Greengrass, Macmillan, Boot, Corner, Creevy, and Edgecombe, into inferi, and was sending them against their housemates and their kin, their blank eyes misty with magic. Somewhere off to the left, Albus lay, unconscious or possibly dead, his youthful body crumpled against the staff table.

Severus's magic exploded outward in a blaze of silver fire, just as the Dark Lord cast the killing curse- again- on Harry. And he charged straight for the Dark Lord, without even bothering to pick up the spare wand he had been using- indeed, he did not even think of it. "Tom!" he spat, voice vibrating with rage and magic. "Turn and face me!"

Lord Voldemort whirled around, only to recoil with a hiss, red eyes wide with something that might, perhaps, have been fear. Then he raised his wand, and Severus realized with a shock of horror that it was not even his at all, but Dumbledore's. Oh, Merlin. there was more than one way to force a wand to change its allegiance, but the most common of those was simply to kill the previous owner. Did that mean...? "Severussss," Voldemort hissed, sending a cold shiver down Severus's spine. Gods, he hated the way Voldemort liked to say his name, and he knew the bastard knew it, too. "So you think you have a chance against me?"

Severus responded with a nice wandless incendio, which shouldn't have even been possible. But then, literally becoming a human phoenix was probably supposed to be impossible too. Voldemort dodged, a little more fear twisting his inhuman features, but before Severus could even be certain that was what it was, his erstwhile master had regained his composure. "I trusted you, once," he said conversationally. As if that abomination had ever trusted anyone. "You could have been great. You could have been the highest in my inner circle; I might even have made you a lieutenant. Insssstead, you betrayed me."

"I think you betrayed me long before I did you," Severus retorted, flinging several curses in rapid succession, any one of which would have rendered Voldemort insensible with pain and at his mercy. It wasn't just that unforgivables were harder to cast now, with the light magic that bubbled in his veins, either. He wanted the creature to suffer, to suffer for all the children he'd killed, for all the lives he'd ruined, for all the muggles he'd tortured, for all the cruciatuses he'd cast. He wanted, not to kill him, but to annihilate him.

Voldemort's wand-hand twitched. "Why fight me?" he said, instead of making a response to Severus's quiet statement; indeed, there was no way he could truly refute that. "Why throw your life away over nothing?" He swept an arm out, as if showing off the aftermath of the battle like a fine artwork, the wounded and dying on both sides and the inferi rising up to blindly attack those they had defended in life, Miss Chang staggering back from her erstwhile friend in horror, Harry's mute (and, for the moment lifeless) body, the horrified and injured Order members witnessing all of this, and on and on, encapsulating all of the destruction that he had caused. "Thisss is what happenssss to thossse who rissse against me. So why fight? I will allow you to return...make you my lieutenant...you alwayss wanted power, Severussss..."

Severus spat in his face. "I joined you once. Never again," he responded, shooting off a blood-scorching curse. The fact that it was wandless, which should have been impossible, did not even register.

"Why fight, when you have no chance? Now that Potter is dead, I am invinssssible."

Severus's dark eyes gleamed with the fire rising within him, swirling around him. Dimly, he was aware that his feet had left the ground, that he was floating in an aura of his own power. "Despair thy charm," Severus quoted, letting the flame curl in warm tendrils of pure light magic on his palm, pooling in his hand. Behind him, the fire was swelling up like a strange set of wings, arching on either side.

Voldemort looked nonplussed, as well as scared, as did most of the other wizards, considering that none but the muggleborns had even heard of Shakespeare.

"You are remarkable narrow-minded," Severus continued. "Especially for a Slytherin. The prophecy does not say that Potter is the only one with the power to kill you, nor that you are safe if he dies. As a matter of fact, it could be a muggleborn born on the same date, or a child born premature. And considering that Potter is indeed dead at your hand, the prophecy is fulfilled. Thus, there is nothing stopping me from killing you right now. Nothing at all."

"Not when I have taken such precautions as I have," Voldemort hissed, although he looked rather worried now- at least, that was what Severus guessed that expression was, as Voldemort was not human enough to tell without any doubt.

"What precautions would that be?" Severus said, a mocking tone having entered his voice now. "You mean this precaution?" he asked, removing Gaunt's ring, which he had taken to wearing after its decontamination, and throwing it at the monster's feet. "Or this precaution?" he added, as the locket followed the ring. "Tom, your precious little trinkets can't help you now, and even if you did manage to kill me, I don't think it'll stick."

Voldemort backed away, slit-like red eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" he hissed, raising his wand. Severus might have made some snide remark, might have spent more time enumerating the wrongs that the Dark Lord had done to him, and to his Slytherins, and to the wizarding world in general. Instead, he let go of his occlumency shields and a wave of white-hot righteous rage poured over him, kindling the phoenix fire still higher. In an instant, the wand was ripped out of Voldemort's hands. For a moment it hung in the air, revolving slowly, and then it flew into Severus's hands. A spray of silver shot from its tip as it accepted him, and Voldemort, for the first time, seemed truly and abjectly afraid. He turned to run, but Severus cast a petrificus totalus, and the Dark Lord fell, still bound, at his feet.

"You would not dare kill me," Voldemort managed through partially paralyzed lips, though it was more a question than an actual statement, as if he was more attempting to reassure himself.

There was a time for monologuing, a time for trading spells in flamboyant duels. And there was a time for ending it all, for sending Tom Riddle back to the dark forces that had raised him to be the scourge of the wizarding world.

Severus responded with a calm sectumsempra, and the Dark Lord died in silence. And then he became aware that the Great Hall was dead silent, and that all eyes were fixed on him, save for those who were trying to subdue the inferi still mindlessly attacking. Even those, however, were turning to stare as the inferi lost animation, like puppets whose strings had been cut all at once, their puppeteer having died. Not that he cared. His only concern right now was his students. And Harry. Merlin, where was Harry? At that moment, there was a sudden blaze of sapphire fire, and all eyes whipped around. Harry rose to his feet unsteadily, his own sapphire blue fire swirling around him. "Professor? Sirius said..." It was then that the boy caught sight of the body lying in the center of the Great Hall, spider-thin pale limbs splayed limp and lifeless. "Is that...?"

"Yes Harry," replied Severus, lowering Dumbledore's wand, hand shaking. He was so tired, now that the adrenaline of battle had worn off. He had, after all, just died. But then, so had Harry. "He's gone. Permanently."

Harry grinned so widely that Severus was worried he would hurt himself. "It's over. It's finally over. Oh, gods!" And then he was rushing to his friends, inquiring about the wounded, embracing all of them in a soppy Gryffindor dogpile before going over and hugging him. Severus stiffened, frozen- never, in his entire time as a professor had a student dared to touch him, much less hug him. But then, never before had he killed a dark lord or come back from the killing curse, so there wasn't really any precedent for any of this. And so he cautiously returned the embrace.

Then it was Luna Lovegood, fluttering up to him like some large moth to kiss him on the cheek, giggling. "I'm glad he's gone," she whispered, as though telling him some great secret, and then ran off in a flutter of scarves and corks to tend to Ginevra Weasley, who was lying motionless at one corner of the Great Hall. Severus simply stared after her, raising one hand to his cheek.

"H-how can you be so sure he's dead?" asked Minerva then, her voice shaking. "How...?"

"That's what I'd like to know, too," said Flitwick. "What kind of magic was that?"

"Phoenix magic," Severus replied. "I...I'll tell you the full story later. Is Dumbledore...?"

"Alive," said Pomona, who had just gone to check.

Severus gave a quiet sigh, glancing out across the hall. Littered with bodies, broken wands, and rubble, and decorated with streaks of blood and pockmarks where spells had been cast and had missed. It was over. It was finally over, and after so many years living in fear of the Dark Lord, after so many years as a spy, he didn't know what to think, except that he was free. And he slumped back against the wall, eyes sliding shut of their own volition. He probably should take a pepper up and tend to the wounded, but he needed to rest. Madame Pomfrey could take care of those worst off, and he could get the others tomorrow. Or she could just put them in medical stasis. It didn't matter. He had all the time in the world, and beyond it, too.