The agony in his chest was so great that Severus feared he was finished, but by some miracle, Harry had not struck a fatal blow, or at least not one that would kill instantly. Harry pulled the dagger out, his eyes glowing a hideous red in the moonlight, the golden dagger glowing with Snape’s lifeblood and magic, and the only words Severus could form before fainting from the pain were, “Harry . . .why?”

An instant later he passed out, and Harry was left staring at the dagger and watching the Potions Master bleeding all over his bedroll. The apprentice blinked, staring down at the blood welling over his mentor’s chest and back to the dagger in his hand. Blood on my hands. So much blood. Too much.

Severus’s eyes haunted him, as did the words he had spoken moments ago.

Harry, why?

The blood ran down the dagger and over his hands and suddenly Harry shuddered, waking fully from the dream that had possessed him.

He cried out in horror at the sight that met his eyes. “Severus! No! Oh NO!”

He was stunned, his mind spinning in confused circles, like a rabbit in a snare, around and around. The dagger seared his hand and he gasped, but could not make himself release it. Inside his head, he heard the accursed thing laughing, celebrating the fact that it had killed the dark sorcerer that had bound it. What once was light is now dark! What once was bound is now free! All thanks to you, little wizard! My pretty little boy, how I do love thee!

The words were like a silken caress, but they carried thorns within them, and Harry was sickened to his soul by what he had done. “No . . .no . . .no . . .” he moaned, whimpering and shaking like a palsy-ridden elder, tears welling in his eyes. “Oh Merlin help me!”

Harry, what has happened? You sound distressed. Hedwig called, returning from her late night mission on soft wings. The snowy owl took in the horrifying scene below her and let out a sharp shriek of anger mingled with terror at the sight of her wizard holding the bloody dagger before him, while at his feet lay the dying Severus.

No! What HAVE you done, Harry James Potter! the owl screeched. Then she dove upon the stunned wizard, her talons closing hard upon Harry’s hand, biting deep, forcing him to drop the Dagger of Discord.

Harry yelled, for his hand was now marred by four deep talon scores, they bled sluggishly, but the dagger was now lying upon the dirt and he could at last separate reality from the dreamscape the dagger had created in his mind. “Hedwig, I . . .I didn’t mean to! Honest . . . I didn’t!” he began to sob.

The owl flew up and boxed him hard across the face with a wing. Stupid boy, this is no time for tears! DO something to fix what you’ve done, by Athena’s Grace! He’ll die else!

“But . . .what about . . .the dagger? I can still hear it!” Harry rubbed his cheek, it stung like blazes.

Leave the dagger to me, Harry! I shall take care of it. Now see to Severus! Hurry! She gave him a sharp nip on the ear then flew down and grabbed a corner of the spelled wrapping and dropped it over the glittering blade, which was unmarred, having absorbed the blood into itself. But it still hungered for more. Harry, take me up. Wield me. I shall make you master of the world, a wizard more powerful than even Dumbledore.

Harry gritted his teeth, for ignoring the sweet voice was like having his teeth ripped out by the roots. Severus. Got to help Severus. Blood all over, what spell stops the bleeding? He tried to recall Severus’s lessons in anatomy, and the spells he had taught him that healed while in Sylvanor. Gulping back nausea, he picked up his wand and chanted a Blood Halting Charm.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the blood stopped pumping from Severus’s shoulder. The Potions Master was waxen, he had lost a tremendous amount of blood, but he still breathed. Harry gathered some cloths from Snape’s potions case and pressed them to the awful wound, which was puckered and red about the edges. He intoned a Sticking Charm, then rummaged inside the case for a Blood Replenisher.

Cradling the Potion Master’s head in his lap, he began to try to get Severus to swallow the potion, biting his lip hard to keep from screaming. “Don’t die, Sev! I’m sorry . . .so very sorry . . .!” he said, the words a litany of self-recrimination that seared him to his very core. He had nearly killed his mentor, and if Severus died, then he would be a murderer.

He didn’t even notice that Hedwig had managed to clasp the Dagger of Discord in her talons and flown off towards the stone cairn with it. His head was pounding and he could barely breathe, the guilt lodged in his breastbone was smothering him, as were the tears that seemed to flow endlessly down his face.

But his hands were steady as he coaxed the potion, a sip at a time, down Severus’s throat. Sniffling, he stroked the man’s throat so he could swallow without choking, recalling the silky voice instructing him in how to treat a comatose patient weeks ago. At last the vial was empty and Harry just crouched there, his green eyes wide, looking at the man he had nearly killed, and the empty vial in his bloodstained fingers.

He could see the flutter of Snape’s chest, which was still smeared with caked blood, and suddenly his gorge rose and he bolted a few feet away to heave violently into the grass. It’s normal to be sick the first time you’ve taken a life. I’ll be there to hold your head if you need it. Harry gasped, choked, and threw up again. No, you won’t. Because I’ve nearly killed you. God, oh, God. Severus . . .what have I done? How could I have listened to the dagger? How?

He tried to remember what had prompted him to use the dagger but all he could remember was some image of a garden, and a fountain, and a little girl whom he had promised to protect and all of that was twisted up with hating Severus for being such a greasy-haired long-nosed git who constantly berated him in potions and mocked him and who . . .Stop it! Just stop it! He’s not like that anymore, you know he isn’t, he’s your mentor . . .more like a father really and look what you’ve gone and done to him. Take a good long look, Potter!

He forced himself to look at the tall wizard, who was still gasping and pale as death upon the ground and felt sick again. Had the dagger punctured a lung? Was that why Snape was breathing so shallowly?

He was in pain, Harry thought dully. Well, of course he is! How would you think he’d feel after getting a dagger stuck through his chest? He sneered at himself. Maybe he should give Severus a Pain Reliever? Yes, that would make him feel better. Harry almost burst into hysterical laughter at that thought. Not ten minutes ago he had attacked and nearly killed his teacher and now here he was worrying about making the professor feel better. What horrible irony!

He moved to get the potion from the potions case and only then felt the pain from his own injured hand. He glanced at it and saw four deep parallel scratches down the back of his hand, almost touching his wrist. Hedwig. Hedwig had done that to him when she had returned and found him standing over Severus like the suspect in a murder mystery. Only there was no mystery about who had nearly murdered Severus Snape.

Harry saw again the blood and the dagger and felt the strange triumphant delight when he had attacked Severus. He found himself retching again, but his stomach had nothing left in it to expel. Evil. Severus was never evil. It was always me. Something within me, like in Voldemort. I listened to the dagger and I betrayed him.

He spat into the grass, then fumbled with the vials in the case, locating the ones labeled Antibacterial Elixir and Pain Reliever. He found a soft cloth and took it over to where Severus lay, twitching and groaning. Gritting his teeth, Harry canceled the Sticking Charm and cleaned the awful wound with the purple Antibacterial Elixir. He was grateful Severus was not awake to feel its sting. Then he re-Stuck the bandages back into place and tried to get the Pain Reliever down Severus.

But the Potions Master could barely swallow and most of the potion dribbled out between his teeth. “Come on, Sev. Take this. Please.”

What are you doing to him? Hedwig hooted sternly, landing upon a branch right above their head.

He jerked up, startled. “Hedwig! I . . .I’m just trying to give him a Pain Reliever.”

The snowy owl regarded him suspiciously. How do I know you aren’t still under the influence of the dagger, Harry? Move away from him.

“Hedwig, I’m not . . .I swear . . .”

I cannot take the chance. Now move away. Don’t force me to hurt you again.

Miserable, but understanding Hedwig’s reasoning, Harry drew away, recapping the vial of Pain Reliever and shoving it inside the case. He scowled at his hand, then took a cloth and dumped the remainder of the purple potion on it and began to swab out the cuts on his hand.

The potion burned like fury, but Harry welcomed the awful stinging. He deserved to be in pain, as Severus was in pain. He had caused this mess, after all. Finding another cloth inside the case, he wrapped it about his hand.

Then he huddled down under the tree and shivered. “Where’s the dagger? You didn’t leave it just any old place, did you?”

No. It is hidden and I shall not tell you where. How is he?

“Not good. He’s still alive, but I don’t know how to heal this kind of wound. I wish Meadowsweet were here. Or Madam Pomfrey. What can I do, Hedwig?”

Be still and don’t listen to any more daggers, the owl snapped. I want your word that you shall sit here and not move until I return. I shall try and find help, though this place is so remote, there might not be any wizards about that can help. Still, I must try. Have I your word?

“Yes. I promise, upon my wizard’s honor and magic.” Harry agreed, his voice thick with unshed tears. He clasped his arms about his knees and put his chin on them, his green eyes bleak and filled with loathing. He watched Severus, counting the rise and fall of the man’s chest. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe, Sev. Like in meditation. I didn’t Occlude my mind like you said, I was tired, I forgot, and that . . .thing got inside my head and took me over. Possession, I think it’s called.

He shuddered again, watching as Hedwig took wing and sailed off into the darkness.

The circle of light cast by the fire was barely enough to illuminate the campsite, and shadows crept over the edge to where Harry was sitting. The wind rustled the grass and the trees and he shivered uncontrollably. An ill wind that blows no good. Like me. Shadows and misery wrapped about him like a winding sheet, holding him fast, as all his old fear of the dark returned. But he did not move closer to the fire. He deserved to dwell in darkness, for he had destroyed the best thing in his life. A choked whimper emerged from him and he ground the heel of his hand into his eyes. But his eyes were dry. What he had done . . .it was too deep for tears. He recalled telling Meadowsweet that Severus was the light in the darkness that had shown him the way. What will you do now, if the light has gone out? Who will you run to then? Who will hear you crying, alone in the dark, if not Severus?

He knew the answer. No one. Only Severus had ever heard the mute unspoken plea. And if he were gone . . .I shall let the darkness take me. What’s the use of fighting any longer?

He shut his eyes and saw the little girl again, the child he had thought needed his protection but instead had used him. Hug me, Harry. Hold me tight and never let me go. Kill the bad man for me, Harry.

He jerked awake, sweat pouring down his face. No! I won’t listen to you! You made me try and kill Severus!

Did I? I am just a tool. Your hand wielded me, Harry. You wanted to kill your mentor, admit it. You wanted him dead so you could be free of him—free of his tiresome rules and restrictions, free to do what you wanted for a change. Admit it.

Harry shook his head, trying to banish the seductive heartless voice from his mind and heart. No! I never wanted that! Not really . . .Get out of my head! Get out!

Terrified, he slammed his head back against the tree. Maybe he could drive the damn dagger’s voice out of his head that way. Crack!

He saw stars and tears filled his eyes.

Beyond him, Severus thrashed and moaned, in the grip of a high fever brought on by shock and the curse the dagger carried.

And Harry could do nothing save watch. His heart felt as if it were about to burst, but he remained where he was, respecting his oath, weeping bitter tears in the darkness.

Harry . . .why?

Severus’s last words echoed unendingly in his head and he whispered to the night and the moon and the dying man, “Forgive me, Sev.”

Then he threw back his head and screamed silently SEVERUS, PLEASE! DON’T DIE! PLEASE!

His mental cry of anguish did not go unheard.

A few moments later, Harry heard a rustle and a snap of a twig and he tensed. Had the werewolves found them again? If so, Harry did not care. Let them come and tear him apart, for if Severus died he would be no better than they and he could not bear it. He bowed his head, waiting for the snarl and snap of fangs upon his neck, claws at his throat.

The grass rustled again and something moved out from the darkness and into the light of the dying fire.

Harry did not look up.

Then a voice spoke, but it was not Greyback’s deep growl.

“Harry? Professor Snape? Is that you?”

Harry froze, then slowly dragged his gaze upward to meet the startled hazel eyes of Jace Witherspoon.