“What are you doing, Snape?”

The words rolled off McCourn’s tongue like venom, screaming of untold danger. His eyes blazed with murderous fire as he glared at the maskless Potions Master.

Snape, for his part, stared back at McCourn with an unreadable expression. But if one knew how to look close and read the acerbic man’s subtle body language, they would have seen the same spark of horrified dread that was characteristic of anyone caught red-handed in the act of doing something they knew was wrong flash across the Potion Master’s eyes.

Oh shit... Snape mentally swore. He would have tried stashing McCourn’s wand away before the other man could see it, but already knew it was too late. McCourn had already seen that damaging bit of evidence still held in his hand for all the world to see. It was going to take a miraculous amount of Slytherin type lying to get himself out of this...

“I said, what are you doing, Snape?” McCourn repeated, taking several steps closer to him in the middle of the overgrown graveyard.

“I don’t think that’s really any of your business, McCourn,” Snape replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral, though full of his characteristic scorn.

“Oh, I think it does, Snape,” McCourn hissed, coming ever closer, “And I think it will also interest our Lord to know that not only did you steal my wand, but also the wand of his enemy, Harry Potter...”

Snape said nothing as McCourn continued his advance – now only half a dozen paces away. Unconsciously, Snape shifted to face the man so that he protectively stood between McCourn and his ghostly charge. Harry stood close behind him, seemingly frozen as he stared at McCourn in horrified dread.

“Imagine my surprise, Snape, when I went back into the meeting room after our little conversation in the hall to find my gift to our Lord missing. And then imagine my surprise when I went to get my wand only to find my own wand missing...” McCourn said, his eyes never leaving Snape’s as he finally came to a stop several paces away from the other man. “I couldn’t help but begin to wonder who would have taken it. And then I couldn’t help but remember it was you who was the last one to leave that room, and the last one to bump into me right before my wand suddenly went missing...”

McCourn’s cold eyes narrowed, boring into Snape with unadulterated hate. “So I have to wonder now, Snape, what you’re up to and trying to do by stealing my wand and our Lord’s trophy prize...”

Snape’s mind whirled, trying to think of something to say. “You didn’t honestly think I was just going to let my little threat about telling the Dark Lord about your little failure to actually kill Potter yourself just hang over your head without having some kind of solid evidence to back it up should I ever decided to use it against you, did you?” he sneered, leveling one of his iciest, most condescending glares on the other man. “Because if you did, you are even stupider than I thought you were...”

McCourn’s lips curled into a vicious snarl. “Watch it, Snape,” he hissed, “Despite whatever you might have against me, I still think our Lord would be most displeased to find out you stole Potter’s wand from him.”

“And what are you going to do? Tell on me?” Snape mocked. He slowly raised McCourn’s wand up to his face and looked it up and down with a speculative expression. “I’m sure if I did a Priori Incantatem on your wand here it would tell us some very interesting things about your final battle with Potter that I think our Lord would be most interested to hear... Like how there’s no completed Killing Curse on it... Shall we take a look and see?” he asked, holding McCourn’s wand out from his body to incant the spell. “Priori Incan–”

McCourn’s eyes flashed murderously. “Accio wand!” he screamed, holding his hand out towards Snape and his stolen wand.

Before Snape could prevent it, he felt McCourn’s wand go flying out of his hand back towards its owner.

“Avada Kedavra!” McCourn yelled, shooting a blast of bright green light at Snape as his wand came flying back into his hand. Snape dropped and ducked behind a nearby headstone just as McCourn’s Killing Curse hit the ground right where he’d been standing barely half a second before.

Harry also leapt back from the spot and ducked behind another headstone close beside Snape.

“Damn it...” Snape swore, whipping his wand out from his robes, “I’d forgotten McCourn can do some wandless magic.”

“What?” Harry demanded, his ghostly face going several shades paler. “How can he do that?”

“Be quiet, Potter, now is not the time,” Snape hissed back at him in a whisper. Carefully looking around the gravestone he’d hidden behind, Snape saw McCourn weaving his way through the leaning maze of headstones straight towards him, his black wand held out in front of him like some sort of evil divining rod. “Suffice it to say he is a very powerful dark wizard. Right now though, I need to worry about not getting myself killed while simultaneously trying to get McCourn’s wand back so I can restore your sorry soul back to your body.”

“Come out, come out wherever you are, Snape!” McCourn sang, his voice carrying loudly through the dark, rain-lashed graveyard. A long roll of thunder sounded overhead as if joining in to sing with McCourn. “I know you’re in here! It’s not nice to skip out on a duel like that. It’s very cowardly. Come on! Be a man and face me! Then we’ll see who gets to be the one to go back to our Lord and tell on the other.”

Snape scowled and gripped his wand tighter. “The things I have to do for you, Potter...” he growled before springing to his feet and aiming a Disarming Spell at the other man. “Expelliarmus!”

McCourn, however, seemed to already anticipate a surprise attack from Snape and deflected his spell with a powerful shielding charm. Snape cursed and ducked behind another tombstone just as McCourn sent a retaliatory Cutting Curse at him. The old grave marker he’d just been behind promptly burst into a thousand tiny pieces and showered the area like stony hail. Ducking and weaving through the old leaning headstones, Snape fired several more curses off at the other man.

But McCourn was able to block or deflect every single one. None of them ever even got close to hitting him.

“Is that the best you can do, Snape?” he mocked as he batted away another one of Snape’s spells and forced the Potions Master to duck behind another tombstone with a deadly Constricting Curse. “Honestly... I don’t know why our Lord keeps you around...”

“I suppose it’s the same reason why he actually believed you would be able to kill off one annoying teenage boy,” Snape shot back as he leapt out from behind a tombstone and fired another Disarming Spell at him.

McCourn had to scramble to leap out of the spell’s path in time, and turned on Snape with a growl of rage and murder burning in his eyes. “Reducto!” he shouted, aiming at Snape again.

The spell came fast and quick. Snape didn’t even have time to put up a defense or duck before he felt the curse slam into his chest and send him flying off his feet into a nearby headstone. The Potion Master’s body hit the moss covered slab with a sickening crunch and crumbled to the ground at its base. His wand flew from his hand and landed half a dozen feet away.

“Professor!” Harry cried, trying to weave his way through the maze of tombstones to get to his fallen professor’s side.

But McCourn was quicker.

Like some black carrion bird of death, McCourn swept down on Snape’s crumbled body and grabbed him by the collar until he had the Potion Master pinned up against the headstone at his back. Weakly clawing at the merciless hands wrapped around his throat, Snape stared back up at McCourn with dark, hateful eyes.

“Oh, I wonder how I should finish you off...” McCourn mused, enjoying the helplessness of his pinned and injured opponent. “I suppose I could always just give you back to our Lord to be dealt with seeing as how it was you that stole Potter’s wand from him. But where would the fun be in that for me? No... I think I’ll think of something else to do to you myself. I have so many new and painful curses I’ve learned over the last few years that I’ve been dying to try... I can always just make up a story later explaining to our Lord why I had to kill you. Maybe something about how I caught you spying for the other side and had to kill you. Wouldn’t that just boil his blood to think one of his most trusted servants was a spy? Think of how he’d reward me then for disposing of you if I told him that...”

Snape couldn’t believe what was happening. First he’d gotten himself into a duel-to-the-death with Potter’s supposed murderer, and then McCourn’d just somehow unwittingly guessed the very thing he was actually guilty of. Did Fate’s cruel sense of irony know no bounds?

“There’s only one thing wrong with your story, McCourn,” Snape hissed, grabbing hold of the other man by the wrists, “And that’s no one would ever believe I’d actually fight for the Light side.” Then violently twisting his body to the side, Snape wretched away from McCourn, pulling the other man off balance with him.

The two men tumbled and rolled over each other in the overgrown grass between the gravestones, fighting for possession of McCourn’s wand. Lightening flashed and thunder crashed overhead as the two grappled with each other, trying to get advantage over the other.

Finally, Snape managed to wrestle McCourn’s wand out of his hands and pointed it up at the other man’s chest. “Expelliarmus!” he cried, and McCourn was sent flying backwards off of him. The Death Eater hit the ground and came to a rolling stop several paces away from where Snape was now struggling to get back to his feet.

“Professor, are you alright?” Harry called from somewhere off to the side.

“Not now!” Snape snapped, keeping his eyes and stolen wand trained on the crumbled figure in front of him. McCourn was slowly getting to his feet, glaring at Snape through a curtain of mussed black hair.

“Oh, that was good, Snape... Better than what I would have given you credit for,” McCourn laughingly sneered, standing to face Snape once more, “I suppose you are capable of some surprises after all.”

“I’d be quiet if I were you,” Snape dangerously hissed, leveling the tip of McCourn’s wand at its owner’s chest.

“Or what? You’ll hex me?”

“Don’t tempt me...” Snape growled.

For one brief, shining moment of time, Snape was almost ready to believe he’d actually won when McCourn suddenly reached his arm out to the side and shouted, “Accio wand!”

From out behind some weather-beaten tombstone, Snape saw his own wand which he’d dropped earlier in their fight come sailing through the air into McCourn’s outstretched hand. “Elos Nexuris!” McCourn shouted, whipping Snape’s wand over his head and aiming it at the startled Potions Master.

Snape tried to put up a block in time, but McCourn once again was too fast, and before Snape knew it, he felt himself violently slammed off his feet by a powerful blast of bright red light. For a moment, it almost felt like he was flying. But then he hit the ground again, and whatever pleasant sensations of weightless Snape might have had for that brief moment of time abruptly disappeared. He felt his arm crushed beneath him as he hit the ground and was almost sure his shoulder had just been dislocated. He rolled several times over the cold, wet ground before he finally felt himself slam into something hard and unforgiving at his back – one of the cemetery’s many gravestones. Pain exploded through his entire body, flaring white in his eyes. And for several moments of unbroken silence Snape just lay there, motionless and still.

“Professor!” Harry screamed as he watched his teacher smash into the faded headstone and land in a boneless heap at its base. Without even waiting, Harry rushed to his fallen Potion Master’s side and knelt down beside him.

Evil laughter echoed through the dark and rainy night. “That was a good attempt, Snape, but I’m afraid you’ve never learned that important lesson that you never put your guard down until your enemy is either completely subdued, or dead. It’s one of the first things they teach you in Defense class. I thought being the Head of Slytherin House, you of all people would already know that, but I guess I thought wrong. I suppose this is just going to have to be one of those proverbial ‘lessons learned the hard way.’ But don’t worry... I promise I’ll make it one you’ll never forget...”

Harry glanced up in horror as he saw McCourn begin to slowly weave his way through the maze of leaning headstones straight towards them. “Professor! Professor, please, you have to get up!” Harry cried, leaning down over his teacher’s motionless body, “Please, you have to get up, he’s coming straight for us!” Instinctively, Harry tried to reach out and shake Snape awake, but his hands passed right through him as though he wasn’t even there. Harry felt his panic rise. Glancing back over his shoulder, Harry saw McCourn getting closer. He was now only several dozen feet away.

“Professor, please!” Harry frantically cried, turning back on Snape with renewed vigor. He felt so helpless. He couldn’t do anything! He had to wake Snape up! He was the only one that could do anything! “PROFESSOR!”

Harry’s desperate cry seemed to finally break through the stupefied haze of pain clouding Severus Snape’s mind, for with a startled gasp the acerbic Potion’s Master came back to full awareness, his dark black eyes flying open and instantly focusing on the ghostly boy hovering over him. “Potter...” he rasped.

“Not now, Professor! McCourn! He’s coming!” Harry frantically shouted, pointing behind him. Snape followed the boy’s wild gesture and saw McCourn coming straight towards them through the uneven rows of headstones.

Snape’s eyes widened, and hurriedly tried to push himself up off the ground. But a blinding bolt of pain shot down the length of Snape’s right arm, temporarily immobilizing him. Snape fell back to the ground with a choked off cry of pain.

Damn it... he swore, clutching his throbbing shoulder with his other hand as he once more tried to sit up. Now what? He knew he couldn’t fight anymore. His wand hand was disabled. Tingling waves of pain raced up and down his entire arm, numbing his hand. He could barely even feel McCourn’s wand (which he’d somehow miraculously managed to keep a hold of during his mid-air flight) in his hand anymore. He wouldn’t be able to block any more spells – let alone any powerful ones he knew the sadistic man he was fighting was most assuredly capable of and willing to use.

Glancing up at the boy beside him, Snape knew he couldn’t go on like this anymore. It was either now or never. He couldn’t wait any longer. If the boy was ever to have a chance of getting back to his body alive, he was going to have to do something now. Before it was too late...

“Get back, Potter,” he ordered.

Harry looked back at him in surprise. “What?”

“I said get back, you stupid child!” Snape hissed, raising McCourn’s wand.

Harry obediently complied and leapt out of the injured Potions Master’s way. Snape shakingly raised McCourn’s wand, his injured arm quivering with the effort it took him to hold it out straight. McCourn was now almost right on top of them. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have time to stop him from doing what he needed to do.

“Priori Incantatem!” Snape roared, pointing McCourn’s wand towards an empty area of grass several feet in front of him between two headstones. An explosion of silvery-white light erupted from the tip of McCourn’s wand, washing over the overgrown graveyard like a tidal wave of liquid moonlight. McCourn leap back in surprise, shielding his eyes from the unexpected explosion of light. Wind savagely whipped the air, roaring like a small hurricane through the rows of headstones.

Harry cried out over the deafening wind and dropped down next to Snape, shielding his eyes from the light with his arm. Snape was also crouched low, struggling to keep the reversed wand steady as light and wind continued to spill from its tip. Disembodied voices could be heard on the wind, screaming as if in terrible pain. Harry wanted to cover his ears to block out the horrific sounds. It sickened him to think how many people McCourn must have tortured and killed to have produced such a terrible cacophony from his evil black wand.

The wind was growing stronger, pulling at the two huddled figures.

“Professor!” Harry cried over the howling wind, “What’s happening? This isn’t normal!”

Snape scowled. “Nothing is ever normal when it comes to you, Potter!” he shouted back, now fighting to keep the wand steady with both hands, “Just wait!”

As if to prove him right, the disembodied screams slowly began to fade away, though wind continued to whip around them. The blinding white light coming from the wand suddenly changed, turning to a pale, silvery blue. The wind began to die. And then, like the birth of some phantom being, the top of a head emerged from the end of McCourn’s wand.

That head slowly gave way to a neck, then shoulders, then the upper body of a thin, tousled haired figure. The ghostly figure slipped free from McCourn’s wand and landed on the ground in front of Harry and Snape in a jumbled heap.

With a startled gasp, the figure shot upright into a sitting position. Looking around wildly, the ghostly figure struggled to its knees, clearly disoriented and confused. Frightenedly scanning the area, it finally spotted Harry and Snape sitting there barely ten feet away. It stared at them for a long moment of silence, its familiar transparent face frozen in an expression of confusion and fear.

“P–Professor?” it stammered, its frightened, bespeckled eyes darting between Snape and Harry as if it couldn’t decide which to look at first.

Harry felt his stomach flipflop with some undefined emotion similar to disbelief, shock, happiness, and relief. The ghostly apparition staring back at him was none other than himself – the missing part of his soul! The spell had worked! He could feel the almost imperceptible pull around his navel begin to grow stronger, like a string tied to his middle trying to tug him back towards his other half.

“You bloody traitor!” came an enraged shout from beyond Harry’s other self. Harry tore his gaze away from his other self to look up and see McCourn standing there like a dark wraith on the other side of the glowing ring of light surrounding his other half. “You damn bloody traitor! You’ve been helping the other side this entire time – Dumbledore and that brat Potter! That’s how you knew about him not immediately dying! He told you! That’s why you were trying to steal my wand and his back! You’re a spy!”

Snape stared at McCourn in disbelief. How could he have possibly known that? Unless... Snape looked back at the ghostly boy beside him and the other part of his soul kneeling in a brilliant ring of light.

Light seemed to spill over the boy and the freed part of Potter’s soul, bathing them in an iridescent glow of silvery-blue light. It seemed to reflect off their transparent grey skin, somehow making them look more condensed and solid. It was then that Snape suddenly realized McCourn must now also be able to see them. How he was actually able to do so, it really didn’t matter. For Severus Snape knew there was nothing he could say or do to get himself out of this situation now...

“You bloody traitor... You’ll die for this...” McCourn hissed, leveling his wand at the downed Potions Master as he began his advance, “I’ll have your head for this and take it back to my Master as proof of your treachery...”

Snape tried to push himself to his feet to meet the approaching wizard, but miserably flopped back down against the headstone at his back, his injured body too battered and weak to manage it. Unable to rise and fight, Snape instead opted to level his dirtiest of glares on the other man. “Well, come and get me then,” he tauntingly hissed, “Show me what you got...” Let no one say Severus Snape went out without at least one final derogatory remark...

Harry, meanwhile, looked on in horror. “Professor, no!” he cried, trying to stand. But as he tried to rise and go to his teacher’s aide, he felt the steady pull on his soul suddenly increase, almost pulling him down onto his side towards his other self. Struggling to his knees, Harry looked towards his other self. He too seemed to be feeling the growing pull on his spirit body.

McCourn was now almost right on top of Snape, leveling Snape’s stolen wand at its owner’s head. “Goodbye, Snape. See you in Hell...”

“Maybe sooner than you think...” Snape replied, his voice calm and resigned as if he’d already expected this sort of death to someday happen.

“Professor, no!” Harry wailed, struggling to go to Snape’s aide. But the pull was becoming too strong. He could barely even move anymore. It felt like he was being pulled by some kind of invisible fishing line attached to his belly button.

McCourn was now right in front of Snape, his wand aimed directly in between the Potion Master’s eyes. “Avada Kedav–”

“NOOO!” Harry screamed. But just as he saw the greenish haze of McCourn’s Killing Curse begin to form, he felt the insistent pull on his body finally become too much and pull him backwards right up off the ground. He felt himself suddenly hurtling through the air, spinning and turning like a tossed rag doll on some wild Portkey ride. Light and shadows spun across his vision, swirling and twisting like some kind of deranged kaleidoscope. A disorienting cacophony of voices and sounds assailed his ears as he hurtled past. The world was nothing but a spinning blur. And then...

Harry felt himself slam into something hard. His eyes shot open, and like a diver breaking the surface after a long submersion, Harry’s body violently arched up over the soft surface at his back, choking and gasping for breath. His lungs felt like they were on fire, stale air choking his respiratory track. He fell back to bed beneath him as a painful series of coughs racked his frame. Pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before exploded through his body.

“Harry!?” a startled cry rang out from close beside him. Several other voices accompanied the first as a loud series of scuffling feet and chairs sounded. Several figures began crowding in around him.

“Harry? Oh my God, Harry! Speak to me!”

“Easy there, Harry, take some nice deep breaths for me...”

“Albus... Oh my word, how did this happen?”

The voices... They sounded so familiar... But Harry could barely focus enough on them to try and figure out who they were let alone focus enough on anything else around him except the blinding pain assaulting his senses.

His entire body screamed with agony. It felt like he’d been hit head on by a hundred runaway bludgers. Fire coursed through his chest and wrapped down around his sides with every irregular, gasping breath he took. Pain shot through his left leg. Hands were on him, trying to sooth him. But it was too much for him to handle.

It was all too real. The sights and sounds... Everything was too real. He felt as though he’d just reemerged from some dark, soundless box into the middle of some noisy, bustling crowd. The dim light of the room stung his eyes like a hundred thousand suns, turning the faceless figures standing over him into nothing more than dark, blurry outlines. Their gentle voices sounded like shouts, tearing at his ears. And the sensations... He felt like he was being torn apart. Though he knew their voices and gentle hands were suppose to sooth him, he felt like he was being drowned in an ocean of sensations. It was all too much... Too REAL!

Crying out his suffering, Harry felt his stomach sharply constrict from the overwhelming flood of sensations.

“Quick, Sirius! A bowl!” one of the voices directed.

Harry felt hands help turn him onto his side. And with no further warning felt his stomach spew out all its meager contents. Gasping and choking on the acidic bile clogging his throat, Harry fought to stop the dry heaves that wrapped like an iron fist around his stomach and sent blinding waves of pain shooting through his body. Finally emptied of everything he had, Harry weakly fell limp against the cushions, disoriented and sick with pain.

“Easy there... Careful now...” he heard the voice once more speaking as gentle hands helped roll him back onto his back.

Harry didn’t resist – he didn’t think he would have had enough energy to even if he wanted to. The world was stilling spinning, everything around him nothing more than a sickening kaleidoscope of darkness and shadows. His whole body screamed with pain. He thought he might faint, but something in the back of his mind told him he couldn’t – at least not yet. There was something he had to tell these people. Something important.

His mind was a jumbled mess. Nothing seemed to make sense. He remembered being in a dark, cramped place, unable to move. But then he remembered falling and hitting the ground, and looking up to find himself staring at his own face beyond of a ring of silvery light. Or was it him staring at himself inside the ring of light? He couldn’t remember. Nothing made sense! He remembered empty darkness. Nothing but a sea of empty darkness... He had felt so alone... But that didn’t make sense either because he remembered being with someone else... Someone who was trying to help him... Someone who now needed his help.

“P–Professor!” he weakly cried, trying to focus his blurry eyes on the figures around him. “P–Professor!”

“I’m right here, Harry. Everything’s alright. You’re back in your body now,” a reassuring voice said from close beside him. Harry weakly rolled his head towards it and saw an old man with a flowing silver beard swim into focus.

Dumbledore...

Harry weakly coughed, trying to find his voice. “No... Have to help...” he slurred, struggling to sound coherent, “Have to help...”

“It’s alright, Harry, just lie back and relax. Everything’s going to be alright,” Dumbledore reassured, putting a gentle hand on Harry’s forehead.

“No,” Harry cried, shaking his head deliriously, “No! Have to help... Snape...”

“What about Professor Snape, Harry?”

“Have to help... In danger... McCourn...” he desperately slurred, trying to make Dumbledore understand. “Snape... in danger... McCourn... He knows...”

“Dumbledore, what’s he talking about?” another voice from Harry’s other side said. Harry looked towards it and saw the haggard, worried face of his godfather, Sirius Black. Behind him also stood Professor McGonagall, her face pale and drawn tight with worry.

“What does McCourn know, Harry?” Dumbledore said, ignoring Sirius.

“That he’s a spy... Going to kill him...” Harry panted, shaking his head. Helpless, desperate tears filled his eyes. “Couldn’t help him... McCourn saw me... Have to help Snape... Please... Have to help him...”

Dumbledore glanced up and met Sirius’ eyes, worry passing between them.

“Please... you have to help him!” Harry cried, desperately clutching Dumbledore’s sleeve. “You have to help him!”

“It’s alright, Harry, we’re going to help him. Don’t worry,” Dumbledore said, pushing the matted tangle of bangs back from Harry’s face in a soothing manner. “Just relax. We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

“No! You have to find him now! Please! You have to help him!” Harry deliriously cried, trying to force himself up to sit. But before he could, a violent series of coughs suddenly seized him, forcing him to break off his frantic rambling. Pain once more exploded through his chest and body, almost paralyzing him. Coughing and choking, Harry fought for breath. He felt something wet spray from his lips and vaguely wondered what it was.

“Harry? Oh my God! Harry!” Sirius cried, gathering his godson to him. Harry felt his godfather run a finger along his bottom lip, smearing the mysterious substance onto it. “Dumbledore!” Sirius screamed, looking down at his red stained finger, “He’s coughing up blood!”

Harry barely registered his godfather’s frantic shouts. Everything was starting to go blurry again. Darkness was creeping in...

“Minerva, go get Madam Pomfrey! Quickly!” Dumbledore shouted, also leaning down over Harry, “He’s still injured from the accident. He needs immediate medical attention.”

Harry was only vaguely aware of McGonagall turning and running out the room. Everything was getting darker. He could barely even see Dumbledore and Sirius hovering over him anymore. The pain was becoming too much. He could feel his consciousness slowly fading. Darkness was closing in.

And just before the darkness finally swallowed him, Harry’s last conscious thought was that of his acerbic Potions Master, and the knowledge that it was probably too late to save him anymore...