June 20th, 1992

Hogwarts infirmary:

The boy who had once been known as Harry Potter tossed and turned feebly in his sleep, trying without success to wake up, but the Sleeping Draughts and Pain Relievers he’d been given by Madam Pomfrey prevented him from fully awakening. He was in a great deal of pain from his burned hand and wrist, as well as suffering from an almost lethal magical drain, but still a part of him struggled against the comforting embrace and oblivion of sleep.

Some of his dreams were nightmares, and he wished desperately for his father to come to him, but he knew his father was far away. Even so, he couldn’t help calling for him, or for anyone who might hear him. Over and over he moaned and whimpered and called, “Papa! Papa!” or “Grandpa! Help! Why is this happening?” and sometimes even “Sandra, please! Where are you? I wanna go home. Please . . . take me home . . .”

He thrashed about, or tried to, for Poppy had taken the precaution of Sticking all but his head and neck to the mattress, so he didn’t roll on his bad hand and injure it further. She had used all her Burn Salve on him at the first application, and had to go ask Professor Malfoy to make more.

In his half-aware, drugged state, Harry heard voices nearby, but did not recognize them.

They were Poppy and Zandra, who had just entered the Hospital Wing with the potion the medi-witch had requested. Zandra had turned her head to stare sadly at the whimpering boy in the bed and asked, “How long has he been like that?”

“Since I dosed him with my strongest Pain Reliever and Sleeping Draught,” Poppy replied. “He’s in a great deal of pain, I didn’t want him to suffer so long, but it couldn’t be helped. Whatever made that burn on his hand and wrist wasn’t ordinary, it was magical and it doesn’t respond to standard healing spells, Zandra.”

The Potions Mistress shook her head. “You mean Albus didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That Harry faced an incarnation of You-Know-Who?”

“No! You cannot be serious!” Poppy was open-mouthed with horror. “But . . .but he’s just a boy!”

“I know. But one with extraordinary gifts,” Zandra said, a note of pride in her voice.

“But . . .I thought he was dead!”

Professor Malfoy shrugged. “That one would find a way to cheat Death of his due, if anyone could. And so he has.” She cast another half-admiring glance at Harry, who was calling once again for Severus. “Poor child! Why aren’t his father and grandfather here? And his stepmother?”

“Because Albus refused to let me send word to them,” Poppy replied tightly, her eyes dark with disapproval. “When I suggested it might help Harry’s recovery, he just smiled that infuriating smile and said he didn’t want to get Severus and Augustus and Sandra upset! That he would tell them later and then he left.”

“But that’s . . .ridiculous! He’s been badly injured and he obviously wants them here!” Professor Malfoy cried angrily. “They deserve to know what happened to him! Have the Zabinis and Augusta Longbottom been told about their children yet?”

“They were here about an hour ago and they took their children home. Mrs. Zabini asked after Harry and I . . .I fibbed and told her that Severus was coming for him.” Poppy admitted. “I don’t know why I covered that old fool’s arse!”

“Force of habit?” Professor Malfoy said, but she wasn’t really asking a question. She moved over to Harry and began to unwind the bandage about his arm. “Poor youngling! What a mess we’re in now. The Dark One’s returned, two of my House and a Hufflepuff are singled out by him, and Quirrell, that useless tosspot, has disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yes. No one’s seen him since yesterday afternoon.”

“Rather odd.”

“He’s a coward,” the Potions Mistress said dismissively. “Probably run home to hide under the covers.” She held out her hand for the salve.

Poppy handed her the jar and watched as the teacher gently smeared it upon the child’s hand and wrist, which were red and blistered. “See what I mean? Spell damage or something.”

“Mmm . . .” She finished applying the salve and then Poppy conjured fresh bandages. Professor Malfoy looked at the medi-witch and asked softly, “You’re not thinking of obeying the old coot, are you?”

“He ordered me not to speak of it,” Poppy wrung her hands agitatedly.

“With magic? He bound you?”

“No, but . . .he made me promise to wait . . .”

Zandra rose from where she had been crouched by Harry’s bed, and gently smoothed his brow, which felt hot and feverish. “You need to give him a potion for his fever, Poppy. And I made no such promise. I’m going to owl them right away—their child’s life is at stake and there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be here!”

“Zandra, are you sure that’s . . .wise?”

“No, but it’s right. I owe Severus Snape a favor and this is how I’m repaying it. Albus can go hang! Him and his bloody secret agenda! Is the Stone safe?”

“I . . .I don’t know . . .I assume so . . .”

“Well, if his Majesty hasn’t mentioned anything, it’s probably safe somewhere. Might I borrow a quill and some parchment?”

“Be my guest,” Poppy gestured to the desk near her office.

And as Professor Malfoy began writing, Harry drifted back into that gray area of sleep, and back into memories of what had come before . . .

* * * * * *

April 15th, 1992

Foxfire Hall:

Harry had come home for Easter break, two months almost to the day that Severus had proposed. He was excited and just a bit nervous at having a new mother about the house, as Severus had said, it would take some getting used to. He had written to Dudley telling him of the planned wedding, since he was the only relative whom Harry felt should be kept updated on what events were going on in his life besides his best friends. They were all delighted that he would finally have a mother, and Blaise teased him unmercifully, saying he would have to watch his step now, since mothers were notorious slavedrivers who made you pick up your room twenty times a day and wash behind your ears and scrub the kitchen floor with a scrub brush until it was so clean you could eat off it. And eat all kinds of gross vegetables and tell embarrassing stories about you when your friends were over.

“Just wait, Harry. You’ll see. Your life will never be the same. Mamas can be awful pains.”

“I’m telling yours you said that, Zabini,” Harry threatened lightly.

“I take it back,” Blaise said hastily, for only a fool invoked the wrath of Annamaria Zabini. Or little Josephine, who, being the baby, could get away with almost anything.

“Besides, my papa makes me do almost all that stuff now, so what’s the difference?”

“Because now you’ll have two of them doing it,” Captain Flint replied, having heard their conversation while making bedchecks that evening. “Trust me Snape, you think your dad’s on your arse now, just wait till you’ve got him and the old lady on you. You’ll think you’re living with an echo.” Then he added, “But sometimes mums are easier to sweet talk. Now get some sleep.”

Dudley had said he hoped the woman his dad married was a nice one and treated Harry decently, and Harry thought that was nice of cousin to wish that, all things considered. Dudley had told him that he was getting on well with Marge, though moving to a new school had been difficult at first. But now he had made new friends and liked it. Harry was glad and hoped Dudley would have a better life now and not grow up spoilt. He doubted if Marge allowed Dudley to light firecrackers in her fireplace.

Sandra had come over for Easter dinner, which was roast goose and plum sauce along with fried potatoes and asparagus in cream sauce and chestnut stuffing, followed by a fig cake and a cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. She had made the pie, Lina had made the rest of the dinner, and they had all stuffed themselves. Harry did notice one difference right off, Severus and Augustus were more talkative now that Sandra was around. And Severus, normally so reserved, smiled more often, and Augustus did also.

They played gin rummy after supper, and Sandra taught Harry how to play the card game, and laughed when he won. “He’s got a natural poker face. Must be something he learned from you, Sev.”

“Yes,” said her fiancée, deadpan.

Augustus had given Sandra a potted orchid and some shimmer lilies from Drusilla’s garden to put in her shop window. Shimmer lilies were a magical flower that shimmered with rainbowed light inside their petals, especially at night. Their petals were particularly prized for use in Potions of Clarity and some love potions as well.

“Grandpa really likes you,” Harry confided in her shyly after the card game, while they sat in the drawing room.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he never gives away flowers from Grandma’s garden unless he thinks you’re worthy of them. And he gave you two, so he really likes you.”

“I’m glad.” Sandra said, smiling. “You know, I was afraid of meeting him at first. The famous Auror Augustus Prince, Unleasher of Earthquakes. I thought he’d take one look at me and tell me I wasn’t good enough for his grandson.”

“Grandpa’s smarter than that. He knows you make Papa happy, and that’s worth more than any silly pureblood pedigree. Though he can be kind of scary sometimes, when he yells,” Harry admitted. The two were alone in the drawing room, Augustus having called Severus into his study to show him some recent statements from Gringotts regarding the Potter vault.

“I can see that,” Sandra said. “And how about you, Harry? How do you feel about me marrying your dad?”

He looked her straight in the eye. “Good. He needs you, Sandra. And I always wondered what it was like to have a mum.”

She put her arm about him. He was so earnest and so hopeful that she just wanted to take him in her arms and hug him to death. “I’ll try my best to be a good one,” she vowed. “Is there anything you would like to ask me, Harry?”

“Umm . . .what do I call you?”

“You may call me Sandra. If you’d like to call Mum, that would be fine too. But you don’t have to right off.”

“Okay.” Then he asked, “Are you a dragon when it comes to homework? And do you think I need to eat five servings of green vegetables a day, because I really don’t like them all that much. Do you like Quidditch? Papa doesn’t care for it, he takes me to games because he knows I like them. And sometime during the summer, could I come and help out sometimes in your shop? Or will you sell it once you marry Papa?”

Sandra’s eyebrows rose into her hair. “So many questions, Harry! Let me see, which one shall I answer first? You are always welcome in my apothecary, and I would be happy to teach you a bit about what I do when you finish school. I will still be working in it even after I’m married. I know I won’t need to work, given the Prince fortune, but I’m not the kind to live a life of leisure. Your papa knows this. As for homework, I do think it’s important, and if I feel you need reminding to do it, I shall remind you.” She bit back a laugh, as she said, “As for vegetables, so long as you eat enough of them to remain healthy, I won’t make you eat five of them. Any rules your father has already in place will remain so, I won’t come here and start throwing a whole new set at you. And just so you know, I believe in compromise, as long as it doesn’t involve something that may risk your life. If you don’t like a decision I make, you are free to ask me why and I shall explain it to you. I shall try to be fair and reasonable, and expect you to extend that same courtesy to me. Respect me and I shall respect you. And if you ever need to talk, about anything, you can come to me. Even if it’s to complain about what a beast your father is. I keep secrets very well.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I like Quidditch, though I can’t fly to save my life. So if you have an extra ticket sometime, I wouldn’t mind escorting you to a game.”

He grinned at her. “Awesome! Papa never complains, well not loudly, but I know he’d rather be home, brewing or reading a book rather than on the pitch.” Harry said quietly. “Do you like animals? We have two cats, two owls, and a falcon here. But I really want a dog too. Though not one that eats everything like Nev’s crup Trouble.”

“Crups are known for their cast iron digestive systems,” chuckled the witch. “Didn’t your father tell you what I have as a familiar?”

Harry shook his head.

“I have a black wolf-dog named Magnus. He guards my house during the day while I work. And he’s grown far beyond the stage where he chews things or makes a mess in the house. He’s very large, but he has a gentle temperament with family members and friends, though he’s very protective otherwise. He took to your father right off, though it took Sev two visits to admit he liked my “hairy walking carpet”.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Is he smart? Can he do tricks? Trouble can balance a ball on his nose and walk on his hindlegs.”

“Magnus is very intelligent. He can find anyone or anything if I ask him to and I’m sure he can learn whatever you care to teach him.”

“Does he like cats?”

“He tolerates them. He won’t chase them if I tell him not to.”

“When can I meet him?”

“Next time I visit, I’ll bring him with me. I’m sure you two will get along wonderfully.”

Harry sighed happily. Now he finally had a mother and a dog. He turned to Sandra and said, “I’m glad Papa’s marrying you.”

“Me too, Harry,” then she hugged him tentatively, and to her surprise, he hugged her back.

* * * * * *

His mind spun him down another path, to another time, where he romped on the lawn over Easter break with the big black dog, who looked like he was pure wolf, with massive shoulders and paws. Magnus had intelligent green eyes that followed Harry’s every move, and no matter how he tried, Harry could never fake him out when he threw balls and sticks for him to fetch. Neville visited and brought Trouble, and at first the two bristled at each other, but Trouble soon submitted to the older dog, and after that they were friends.

Magnus watched the younger dog, and growled softly when the crup tried to dig up Augustus’ prize rosebushes or went to chew on Harry’s boots that he had left beside the pond.

Harry flew with Neville about the pond, tossing a Quaffle back and forth, and laughing at Nev’s attempts to catch a fluttering Snitch.

They played until Sandra called them in for lunch, and the two dogs accompanied them, laying beneath the table while the two boys ate, and snuck them scraps when Severus and Augustus weren’t looking, since they both believed feeding a dog at the table turns them into beggars.

* * * * * *

“Surrender the Stone to me, boy! Surrender it!” a shrill vicious voice was screaming.

Harry whimpered. No, he did not want to remember that. Not yet.

He shut the evil voice out of his head and turned and fled down yet another corridor of memory, to a day of sunshine and blue skies and vows exchanged between his father and his beloved apothecary . . .

June 14th, 1992

Foxfire Hall:

Harry stood to one side of the archway formed of roses and shimmer lilies at the heart of Drusilla’s beautiful garden, dressed in his best summer robes with a lightweight suit of gray cotton beneath them. He was standing next to Marco, his father’s best man, as a second attendant to Severus. They were waiting for the bride to appear and be escorted up beside the crystal fountain to speak her vows.

The wedding date had been pushed up from its original date of June 24th due to an odd premonition Sandra had dreamed. She was normally not one to put much stock in Divination, despite the fact that on her father’s side had been many accurate Seers, for his was a Russian lineage rich in magic. “My great-grandmother Tatiana was a famous one, and they say she used to cast horoscopes for the czars in their palace, but I never had the Sight.” But in early May she had a strange dream, and then it occurred again, and she had told Severus that it would be best if they moved the wedding up a week or so. And so they had moved it to the weekend before Harry’s final week of school. Harry had gotten special permission from the Headmaster to attend the Friday nuptials and miss his last Charms class.

Severus looked extremely handsome in his brand new wedding dress robes, emerald green with a gold satin border, studded with jet and beryls along the cuffs and collar. His white silk shirt even had a small row of pearl buttons down it, and was tucked into tailored black slacks tucked into black dragonhide boots lined with green felt, whose tops were folded over neatly to show the lining. His hair had been trimmed, and then left to fall in a natural wave almost to his shoulders.

He waited nervously in front of the fountain for Sandra and her attendants to appear, wondering in a flash of panic if she’d had another premonition that morning that had told her not to get married. While he mentally scolded himself for his foolishness, he glanced about at the intimate gathering present at the ceremony.

Neither he nor Sandra wished to have a huge wedding and opted for a small private ceremony at the hall with a handful of guests. There was Augusta Longbottom, Amos Smithers, a few of the shopkeepers in Diagon Alley who had known Sandra a long time, Annamaria and her twins, and the bridal party, which consisted of Marco Zabini, Harry, Sandra’s cousin Libra, and Augustus, plus the various familiars.

Valeska dozed on a branch to the side, and Magnus lounged along a walkway, and the two cats dozed in the sun along the garden wall.

Just then, an invisible band began playing a traditional wedding march, and Severus saw Libra, a pretty blonde witch a little younger than he, marching through the archway, strewing rose petals as she did so. She was dressed in soft spring green robes with hints of lavender and rose in them and matching slippers.

The guests watching applauded politely when she reached the fountain and took the place to Severus’ left, turned and faced the arch where Sandra was walking through, escorted by Augustus.

Having no father living to walk her down the aisle and give her away, Sandra had asked Augustus to perform this service for her, knowing he would enjoy being made a part of their special day. She knew too that he had never had this chance with Eileen, and she hoped it might alleviate some of the guilt he still carried. She knew he appreciated her gesture deeply, for when it came time to walk to the garden from around the back of the manor, the long way around instead of straight through the conservatory, he had kissed her cheek and said, “I thank you for this, daughter. Come, mustn’t keep your new husband waiting.”

Sandra’s heart was beating so loudly beneath her gorgeous silk and satin bridal gown that she feared the whole world could hear it. She had worn her mother’s bridal gown for this momentous event, and counted it lucky that she and her mother had been the same size, so she didn’t need to alter it. Eileen’s ring was on her left hand, and atop her hair was a beautiful Italian lace veil held in place by a crown of blue forget-me-nots and morning glories. The veil had been a gift from Annamaria, sewn by her own hands. She had borrowed Libra’s eternity knot earrings and the only other piece of jewelry she had on was a seed pearl necklace upon which two S’s entwined and they were accented with diamonds. That had been Severus’ bride gift to her.

She had given him a pin, a gold and diamond eternity knot. He was wearing it upon his dress robes, she noticed as she came towards him.

As Harry watched her approach, he thought he had never seen anyone look more . . .radiant was the word he thought he wanted. Sandra seemed to glow from within, her face luminescent with joy. Her dress of ivory silk, lace, and satin was breathtaking. And so was the fact that everywhere she stepped along the ground a wildflower grew. Harry suspected that was Augustus’ doing, for an Elemental Master could do small magics like that with barely a thought.

If you weren’t aware of Augustus’ advanced age, you never would have known he wasn’t the sixty-five he appeared. Beyond a few streaks of silver in his short dark hair, he did not resemble a man that had just celebrated his 105th birthday. He was dressed impeccably in silk gold robes and a custom-tailored black suit and he carried himself with all the grace and poise of a man three times his junior. He walked slowly through the arch and down the rose petal strewn pathway towards the center of Drusilla’s garden, the crystal fountain that always ran pure spring water all throughout the year.

Though today the elves had charmed it to run sweet Moscato d’Asti, a flavorful bubbly dessert wine.

Augustus stopped and handed Sandra to a waiting Severus, but not before he had given the bride a kiss and said, “May you be blessed and know the love I shared with my wife for so many years.” Then he whispered in her ear, Harry was the only one close enough to catch it, “And if he gives you any trouble, come see me and I’ll straighten him out.”

Harry smothered a giggle and so did Sandra.

Then Augustus stepped back to go and stand with the other guests.

Marco Summoned a golden chalice encrusted with rubies and pearls and filled it with the Moscato. On the opposite side, Libra Summoned a silver platter upon which rested a dense pound caked filled with nuts and cranberries and flavored with cinnamon along with a silver knife.

Severus took the chalice from Marco, and then he faced his bride, the chalice held out between them. “Sandra Ilyana Miska, I, Severus Tobias Snape, offer you this Chalice of Commitment, and with it my Name and my vow to protect you always.” He took a sip and the chalice glowed. Then he passed it to Sandra, who said, ”I accept it,” and took a sip. The chalice glowed brighter. Then she handed it back to Severus.

“I further vow to give you my body and my heart, without reservation, to honor and succor you, forsaking all others, for all the days of my life.” He drank a second time and again the chalice glowed even brighter. Once more he handed the cup to her.

“I accept it, and offer my own pledge in return.” Then she drank and the chalice suddenly blazed with golden light, consecrating the ritual. Then it vanished.

Sandra turned and took a slice of the wedding loaf and bit into it. “This is the sacred bread, blessed by a house elf of the Old Ways, and I, Sandra Ilyana Miska, offer this to you, Severus Tobias Snape, along with my vow. You shall always be welcome in my home and my heart, may you never be absent from the one or long away from the other. Eat, and be welcome.” She passed him the rest of the slice of cake.

He ate it, then said, “I accept your hospitality and love, my lady.”

She took a second slice of cake, and ate half and then spoke her second vow. “I further vow to give you my body and my heart, without reservation, forsaking all others. I shall honor and succor you, protect you with all of my magic, for all the days of my life.”

Once more he took the cake, ate it, and then repeated the words of acceptance.

Then it was Harry’s turn. He came forward with the simple gold wedding bands, engraved inside with the other’s name and wedding date and proffered them. Severus took Sandra’s and slid it on her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, and make my final vow. By the laws of magic and in sight of these witnesses, I claim you, Sandra Ilyana Snape, my wife.”

Sandra took Severus’s ring, and placed it upon his finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, and make my final vow. By the laws of magic and in sight of these witnesses, I claim you, Severus Tobias Snape, as my husband.”

Then Severus drew her into his embrace and kissed her, long and deep, to seal the vow.

The fountain suddenly leaped up and showered the participants with water and rose petals and then changed back into wine.

Everyone was clapping and cheering, and Marco winked at Harry. “Now that’s what I call a kiss!”

When the happy couple finally came up for air, they turned and faced their family and friends and announced that all were to share in their bounty and the wedding loaf cut itself into enough pieces for all to taste, as was tradition. It was said that those who ate the wedding loaf would have good fortune in love for the coming year.

Then the bride and groom moved among the guests, accepting congratulations, and Harry’s stomach growled and he hoped they could eat something soon . . .

* * * * * *

Abruptly he was wrenched out of the comforting past and thrust into a sequence of memories that would ultimately lead to the nightmare he didn’t wish to face. But he was helpless to stop his mind from dragging him down . . .

* * * * *

June 19th, 1992

Hogwarts:

“Where’d Nev get to?” Harry wondered, looking about the empty lawn behind the greenhouse. He slanted his best friend Blaise a questioning glance. “He was supposed to meet us after the game.”

Blaise shrugged, clearly at a loss. He was still high from the big win. Slytherin had finally beaten Gryffindor for the Quidditch Cup this year, thanks to Harry’s excellent maneuver on his broom at the last second, catching the Snitch just before game time was up. Flint wanted to have Harry declared a god, and paraded about with him on his shoulders, screaming, “Yeah! Snape rules! Slytherin kicks arse!” for almost ten minutes before he calmed down.

Harry was congratulated by nearly his whole House, Professor Malfoy, Neville, Hermione, and Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain. Ron seemed inclined to sulk over the victory and so Harry just left him alone. He wasn’t minded to put up with the other’s griping right then. It had been a fair match and he had played his best game ever. If Ron had a problem with that, too bad.

But he didn’t want to think about Ron just yet. He wanted to find Neville so they could have some butterbeer and soft pretzels with mustard and Cauldron Cakes to celebrate Slytherin’s victory. “Maybe he’s back in the Hufflepuff common room?” Harry said, thinking out loud.

“Guess we could try there.”

They started back towards the castle. It was dark, they had finally managed to slip out of the Slytherin celebration party going on back in the dungeons, and wanted to host their own get together before curfew. The Hufflepuff dormitories and common room were next to the kitchens, so Blaise and Harry went through a door to the right of the main staircase and down a set of stairs to stop in front of a still life painting of a bunch of goldenrods and fruit just across from the kitchen entrance.

“Now what?” Blaise asked. “Can we knock on the painting? Or should we just wait for someone to come out?” He cast a wistful glance at the kitchen entrance. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Harry said. “Playing Quidditch works up an appetite and I was too nervous before the game to eat much. Let’s get a snack and then we can ask the elves how to get the Puffs attention when they’re inside the common room.”

“All right.”

They made their way into the kitchen and some friendly elves happily served them some apple crisp and ice cream and huge glasses of chocolate milk. When they were done, they started to ask one of the elves about the Hufflepuff common room when they saw the still life portrait creak ajar.

The two Slytherins rushed towards the kitchen entrance and saw Neville step out into the corridor.

“Nev! There you are!” Blaise exclaimed.

“We’ve been waiting for ages for you to—hey, Nev!” Harry called, but Neville seemed not to hear him. He had an odd expression on his round face and his eyes were strange too. They looked almost . . .vacant. “Nev, hello! We’re over here!”

Neville turned and walked right past the kitchens, moving down the corridor towards unknown territory for the first-years, who had been instructed early on by Professor Malfoy to not go exploring in the dungeons, for there were many small side passages and catcombs where they could get lost and might not be found for days.

Neville walked purposefully down the corridor, muttering softly to himself.

Blaise exchanged glances with Harry. “That’s strange. It’s like he didn’t even hear us. Or see us. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Harry said, and followed Neville down the corridor.

“Hey, wait up!” called Blaise, and he ran after Harry.

They soon caught up with Neville and tried once more to get him to notice them, but it was as though he drifted in a fog. He neither saw nor heard nor responded to them.

“He’s been bewitched, Harry,” Blaise declared.

“Bewitched? But who would want to do that to Nev?” Harry cried angrily.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a prank.” Blaise waved a hand in front of Neville’s face. “Longbottom! They’re giving away free donuts in the Great Hall!”

Harry elbowed him in the ribs, hard.

“Ow! Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Blaise glared at him. “And he’s like deaf or something. Like an automaton or a zombie.”

Harry was thinking hard. There was something about the way Neville was behaving that reminded him of something Augustus had once told him during a Defense lesson. “No . . .wait. Blaise, I remember my grandpa telling me once that people under the Imperius Curse behave that way, if they’ve been given orders to by the person who put them under it. They do what they’ve been commanded to do until the task is done or the curse lifted. Blaise, Nev’s been cursed with an Unforgivable!”

Blaise gaped at him. “But Harry, if you’re caught casting them, you go to Azkaban! Who would know a curse like that and cast it?”

“Somebody evil,” Harry replied. Then he stopped because Neville was now pressing a series of bricks in the right wall. “What the hell? Oh, a secret passage!”

“To where?”

“Maybe it’s some kind of secret way to a treasure vault?” Harry quickly followed Neville inside the gaping hole, and so did Blaise. The door slid shut behind them.

“Great! Nev, I sure hope you know the way out,” muttered Blaise. “Lumos!”

Harry drew his wand and cast the Light spell also, and so did Neville a breath later.

They were in a stone passage that smelled of dust and decay. Harry wrinkled his nose and sneezed. But Neville just ignored them and continued on down the passage.

“I never knew this was here!” exclaimed Blaise.

“Hush! Your voice echoes,” Harry hissed. “What if there’s some monster down here? It’ll hear us.”

Blaise quickly shut up.

Then they heard Neville muttering, “Take the passage down to the chamber with the mirror. Look in the mirror and get the Stone. Look in the mirror and get the Stone. Then give it to Professor Quirrell.”

“Quirrell!” Blaise whispered in shock. “He must have put the Imperius on Nev!”

“To get the Sorcerer’s Stone!” Harry breathed. There had been rumors floating throughout the school that something Important was being hidden away at Hogwarts, up on the third floor corridor or somewhere else. Rumors had it that the attempted break-in at Gringotts had come about because the Stone was there, and the goblins had removed the Stone and given it to the Headmaster for safekeeping and Dumbledore had hidden it somewhere. Several Sytherins had attempted to find secret passages and such, but after Professor Malfoy caught two fifth-years trying to break down a wall with a pickaxe and a mallet, she forbade anymore discussion of the Stone and searching for secret passages.

“But that must mean that Quirrell’s a dark wizard!” Blaise whispered fearfully.

“Or that he works for one,” Harry said, because he couldn’t imagine stammering scared-of-his-shadow Quirrell as a dark wizard. Dark wizards were scary and tough, not incompetent bumbling idiots.

“What are we gonna do, Harry? We can’t let Nev get the Stone.”

“Shh. We’ll deal with that when and if it happens,” Harry said firmly. “For now, we just see where he goes.”

They followed Neville down the twisty passage for what seemed like hours but was really only ten minutes, until they came to a door, a large wooden one with iron hinges and a big long handle.

Neville turned the handle and they went into a rectangular chamber where a stone dais was set up on the right side. Upon it was an ornate mirror with the letters ERISED on the top of the frame.

Harry and Blaise hung back near the doorway, unsure if there was anyone else lurking in the room, which was so big most of the corners were deep in shadow.

Neville crossed the room rapidly, his eyes glazed and fixed unerringly upon the mirror. He came to stand in front of it and the mirror swirled and then Harry couldn’t see what happened because Blaise was peering about in front of him and blocking his line of sight. He went to push the other back and suddenly Quirrell appeared out of the shadows.

“Well, boy? Did you get it?” he demanded.

Harry was shocked to hear a non-stuttering voice come out of the professor’s mouth. This voice was strong, deep, and not at all like Quirrell’s usual reedy stammer. Had it all been an act?

“No, Master,” Neville said flatly. “I’m trying. But all I see are my parents.”

“Try harder! You must want the Stone!” Quirrell urged. “Focus on it as your heart’s desire!”

“Yes, Master.”

Neville tried again and Quirrell tapped his foot impatiently against the stone floor and huffed. “You just can’t get good pawns these days, honestly!”

Suddenly Harry sneezed, though he tried to muffle it with his sleeve, but it was too late. Quirrell spun around, quick as a viper striking, and he spotted the two boys loitering at the entrance to the room.

“Well, well, what have we here? Friends of yours, Longbottom? Two curious little boys come to take a peek at what’s down here, I presume?” The deep voice was mocking and sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. The voice sounded terribly familiar. Where had he heard that voice before?

Quirrell peered at them sharply and crooked a finger at them. “Young men shouldn’t lurk in doorways, it’s bad manners. Come here, into the light, where I can see you.”

Blaise shook his head. So did Harry. But there was something in the smooth deep voice that cajoled them into moving first one step and then another, despite their obvious terror. Until they were standing ten feet in front of the Defense professor, but this Quirrell was somehow different from the one they knew.

He was taller, carried himself proudly, not hunched over, and his eyes were . . .eerie . . .like a snake’s. They fastened on Harry and he found he could not look away.

“S-s-o!” he hissed like a serpent. “My old friend Lucius was right. You did survive after all!” he threw back his head and laughed, and the laughter was the kind that sent shivers down both boys’ spines, for it smacked of the damned and insane.

Harry struggled to break that gaze with all of his might. But he could not.

Abruptly the laughter ceased and Quirrell’s face seemed to undergo a transformation. It began to melt and reform itself into a different face—one with elegant cheekbones and a pleasing nose and mouth, a face that most women would have called handsome. All save the eyes, which were cruel and evil, showing the dark soul within.

“How clever of Lucius to figure it out!” continued the professor, smiling. “One Memory Restorative later and it all falls into place. You were hidden away at Foxfire Hall, weren’t you, boy? The one place I and mine could not penetrate. Protected by a fool Potions Master and an aging toothless Auror! But not anymore! Now your secret is out.”

Then suddenly Harry knew who it was he faced. The murderer of his parents. The scourge of wizarding Britain. “Lord Voldemort!” he cried aloud.

“Recognize me?” sneered the other. “Yes, I have returned at long last. Finally found a willing body to inhabit.” He gave a sniff and looked down at himself, his lip curling. “Could have done better, this body is weak and stunted, but beggars can’t be choosers. Took me years to get this body acclimated. But once I have the Stone, things will be different! Oh yes, they will! For then I shall be as Nicholas Flamel . . .immortal!”

“Not if you don’t have the Stone,” Blaise managed to say, half-defiantly.

Voldemort sneered. “Be careful, snakeling. You are bold instead of wise and that will get you punished. Know your place and be still!” His hand lashed out then and smacked Blaise hard across the cheek, knocking the small boy to the ground.

Blaise yelped, shivering.

Harry managed to wrench his gaze away from those burning eyes. “Leave him alone, you murderer!” He put a hand on his wand and drew it.

“Tsk. Tsk. Never draw a wand, boy, unless you know how to use it! Didn’t your cracked old grandda teach you that? Or your pitiful foster father, Severus Snape? No? Then I shall have to! Lesson number one—never make yourself vulnerable!”

He flicked his wand at Neville, who turned obediently from the mirror. “Yes, Master?”

“Attack them! Now!”

Neville drew his wand. “I hear and obey, Master!”

“Cast a Burning Hex. Incendio!”

Neville obeyed and a gout of fire shot out of his wand right towards Blaise.

Blaise screamed and scrambled away, yelling, “Aguamenti! Merlin’s bloody balls, Nev! Snap out of it!”

The flames were doused by his Water Charm, but Neville just looked at him with that blank stare and advanced again.

Voldemort implanted a spell into his mind and he turned and attacked Harry, his wand conjuring a swarm of bees.

Harry was petrified, for he had learned recently over Easter that he was allergic to bees when he was stung by one and now there was a whole swarm of them. But he gripped his wand and shouted, “Protego!” which was the first Defense spell he’d ever been taught.

A glowing blue sphere encased him and the bees struck it and bounced off. They struck repeatedly and were repelled until they died from trying to sting the impenetrable globe. “Nev, stop! Fight him off!” he cried. “You can do it!”

But Neville could no longer hear him. Harry’s shield vanished and he called to Blaise, “We’ve gotta knock him out somehow.”

Blaise chanted a Leg-Locker jinx, but Neville, following Voldemort’s orders, countered it.

Harry tried a Body-Bind, it too was countered.

Then Neville cast the Tickle Curse. “Rictumsempra!”

And Blaise was helpless laughing and rolling over on the floor trying to escape invisible fingers.

Harry sensed Voldemort was toying with them and that frightened him, for he had seen Mystic and Patches toy with a mouse before they killed it and he knew snakes sometimes did so as well.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “Why can’t you get the bloody Stone yourself, instead of using Nev like this?”

“Because it’s more fun to use him this way. Don’t question, Boy Who Lived! Between you and him, you have made my life a living nightmare! Do you understand?” Voldemort yelled. “If not for you, I would still have my body, not this pathetic borrowed husk! I would still have my power! Why could you not have died that night like all the others? Why?”

Harry scrambled away from another hex Neville threw and felt the stones explode where he’d been moments before. He knew two things then. He must free Neville from the curse and get the Stone. He wished he knew how to do either of them.

Frantically, he gazed at the mirror. Help me, please. Help me save my friend and defeat this crazy bastard. Help me!

He looked into the depths of the mirror. And then he saw what he needed to do. He felt something heavy inside his pocket, patted it, then whirled about and tackled Neville to the ground. He pushed the tip of his wand against Neville’s temple and cried, “You are released! Neville, you are released! Know yourself! You are released!”

The wand of the Dragon’s Tear breaks all enchantments and bindings if commanded to do so. And so it broke the curse upon Neville Longbottom.

“H-harry?” he groaned, seeing his friend for the first time. “I-I-m sorry . . .” Then he fainted, utterly drained by the magic he had cast and the knowledge that he had been used to hurt his friends.

“It’s okay, Nev.” Harry murmured. Then he rose to his feet and faced his parents’ killer.

“Now it’s just you and me, Potter,” chuckled the Dark Lord. He shot a contemptuous glance at a stricken Blaise, who lay unmoving upon the floor, spelled unconscious. Blood trickled from a cut on his brow. “Pitiful, the Slytherins they’re turning out these days.”

He advanced upon Harry. “Where is the Stone, little one? I can feel its presence, where is it? If you have it, give it to me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I say so!” Voldemort thundered, incensed. A minute later he calmed and said softly, “Come now, child. I shall make you a bargain, yes? All good Slytherins love a bargain and you are a snake too, I see! How ironic! Your father must be turning in his grave! Two Lions producing a Serpent!”

“Just because my birth parents were Gryffindors doesn’t mean I have to be one.”

“True. Listen, snakeling. Give me the Stone and I shall make you master of all you survey. We can rule together, you and I, Master and Dark Apprentice! Anything you desire shall be yours. All you have to do is . . . give . . .me . . .the Stone!”

“No. That’s not a bargain I’m willing to make, Voldemort!” Harry shook his head violently.

“Fool! I offer to share my power and glory and you dare to spurn me! Impudent wretched child!” stormed the wizard.

“Yes.” Harry stood his ground, his wand out. “I won’t go dark. My grandpa and my two fathers and mother taught me better than that. Not for all the power or all the magic in the universe would I join you, Mr. Riddle!” Harry jeered, recalling then Voldemort’s true name.

“Surrender the Stone to me, boy! Surrender it!” Voldemort screamed shrilly, grabbing Harry by the wrists and shaking him.

Suddenly both of them felt a terrible burning pain, and they screamed in agony.

“What . . .arghh . . .is happening . . .ahhh . . .to me?” wailed the dark wizard.

“Get off . . .ahhhh . . .my hand . . . it burns . . .!” Harry sobbed. He struggled to break free, but the Dark Lord had a grip like a vice.

Desperately, he stabbed his wand at Voldmort’s face, and when the tip connected, it made the other scream, for the dragon’s tear within would not tolerate such a twisted soul, and repelled Voldemort with great force.

The dark wizard was slammed backwards against the wall.

Harry crumpled to the floor, half-unconscious from his wand’s magic and from the pain of the protection spell woven into him by his dying mother.

Voldemort staggered to his feet, ready to try once more to get the Stone from the boy, who still held it in his hand, but then the door to the chamber was thrown open, and a familiar bearded figure entered, his purple robes flying.

“Tom, leave Harry be!” Dumbledore ordered, and light shot out of his wand at the dark sorcerer.

But Voldemort ducked and scuttled into the shadows. “Another time, old man! This victory is yours, but the war is not over yet. I shall return!”

And with that he touched a stone and a secret passage swung open and he vanished through it. His body was badly weakened and he could feel it dying even as he ran.

Dumbledore hurried over but could not find the correct stone to open it. “Damn!”

Then he turned back and went over to Harry. “Harry Potter! What a marvelous discovery!”

Those were the last words Harry heard before he tumbled into unconsciousness.

* * * * * *

June 20th

Hogwarts infirmary:

Severus Snape rushed into the infirmary, totally abandoning his normal reserve and nearly knocking a startled Poppy to the floor. She opened her mouth to chide him, but then closed it upon getting a good look at his face. It was drawn and filled with a terrible desperation. Plainly he thought he had been summoned to his child’s bedside to watch him die.

He arrived at his son’s bedside and reached out a hand to touch Harry’s brow. The child moaned at the cool touch, and he whispered brokenly, “Harry, you’re going to be all right. I’m here. Papa’s here. Right here.” He examined the bandaged wrist and hand at a glance and then shot the medi-witch a look. “How long has he been this way? What are you dosing him with? And why did I receive a letter from Professor Malfoy instead of the Headmaster regarding my son’s injuries?” That last was said in a growl.

Poppy hurried over. She had seen parents in various states of emotional upheaval come through here, but she had never seen one so totally close to snapping as Severus was and something told her that an unleashed Snape was a bad thing to have happen. “He came here last night, the Headmaster brought him and Longbottom and Zabini,” she said quickly.

Two more people came in then, the newly married Sandra Snape and Augustus Prince. Both wore expressions of concern and fear and Augustus looked furious as well. They approached the bedside and Augustus bent over the small boy. “He’s alive, praise God and Merlin.” He shot a death glare at the medi-witch. “And just when, pray tell, were you going to inform us of his condition, madam? When he was being measured for his burial shroud?”

Poppy winced at the tone he used. “Forgive me, Lord Prince, but I was forbidden to contact you right away.”

“Forbidden? By whom?”

“The Headmaster,” she replied.

Augustus swore under his breath. “Meddling, manipulative, bloody son-of-a bitch! Who does he think he is? God?”

Sandra stared at her father-in-law in shock. She had never seen him so close to the edge of his control and never had she heard him swear in mixed company. Then again, Harry had never been so gravely injured before and the knowledge kept from his family. She went to Severus and placed a hand on his rigid shoulder. “Sev? How is he?”

“Not . . .not all that good. He has a massive amount of spell drain and a badly burned hand and wrist, a magical burn that only responds to potions, not spells, and he’s been unconscious since he was brought here . . .”

“Sev, he’ll pull through. He’s strong.” She turned to Pomfrey. “What potions do you need? I’m an apothecary, I can get whatever you need fast.”

Poppy rattled off potions and Sandra Summoned them wandlessly through the Floo Network.

While she was doing that, Severus and Augustus both joined hands and Augustus began tracing a pattern with his wand over Harry’s heart and muttering an ancient spell in a forgotten Latin dialect. Together, they transferred some of their magic into Harry, giving him some reserves to draw on so his magical core didn’t burn out.

It took about five minutes and afterward both men looked weary. But color had come back into the child’s waxen cheeks and he breathed easier.

Poppy returned to check on him and stared. “What did you do? He looks much better now.”

“We gave him some of our magic,” Severus answered.

Poppy blinked. “Albus tried that, it didn’t take.”

“That’s because Dumbledore isn’t blood related to him,” Severus said tightly.

“Neither are you, Severus Snape,” said the Headmaster calmly from the doorway. “If Lucius Malfoy’s letter did not lie, the boy you claim is your son is actually Harry Potter.”

Severus stood and whirled about, his black eyes glittering. “That boy there is also my son! I have blood-adopted him and he is my heir. And even without that, I am the one who raised him these past ten years after his so-called blood relatives abandoned him in a manger to freeze to death. So don’t you bloody tell me I’m not his father!”

Dumbledore came into the room, one eyebrow raised. “Now, now, Severus, calm down. I was merely stating a fact, you needn’t shred me with your eyes that way, my boy.”

Severus snorted, his hands clenching. “If I had my way, old man, you wouldn’t be shredded with my eyes. You’d be fertilizer!” Suddenly the temperature in the room plummeted ten degrees and everyone shivered.

“Severus,” Sandra warned.

Severus quickly brought his wayward Mastery back under control. No way would he let Harry catch a chill.

“Why did you not tell us straight off that the tyke was in grave danger, Albus Dumbledore?” snapped Augustus, coming forward to confront the other eye to eye.

Sandra and Poppy took a step back, for it was like watching two dragons about to attack.

“Augustus, my boy, I simply did not want to alarm you. I wanted to wait until he was stable before I informed you—”

“Don’t you “Augustus, my boy”, me, Dumbledore! The boy could have died and we never would have learned it until too late! You wanted to keep a lid on it because of how it happened, didn’t you? You didn’t want us to know that Voldemort has returned!”

Albus paled. “How do you know that?”

“A little bird told me,” sneered the elder Prince. “How did Voldemort manage to infiltrate this school? And why would he do so?”

“There was an object hidden here that he wanted very badly,” began Dumbledore. “I told Nicholas Flamel I would keep it safe . . .”

“Flamel?” Augustus pounced on the name like a cat on an unwary squab. “You mean to tell me you had the Sorcerer’s Stone here . . .in the damn school? Here, among innocent children?”

“It was perfectly safe and no child was allowed past the third floor, I had protections surrounding it, and the staff helped me . . .”

“And one of your staff was a bloody traitor! You stupid addelpated fool! How could you place children in danger that way?”

“It was the last place anyone would have looked,” the other protested.

“Ha! Looks like your logic is flawed, Headmaster! Because Voldemort knew exactly where to look, since you revealed the location yourself. And then he used my Henry and those other two boys as his catspaws.” Augustus began to tremble and several bottles and jars rattled upon their shelves. A small tremor shook the room, followed by a strong gust of wind and the fire flared up in the grate and rain lashed the windows outside. The Elemental Master was becoming dangerously agitated.

“He couldn’t get at the Stone, Augustus. He tried and failed. And in the end, Harry managed to do what he could not, proving that he is indeed the child of the prophecy, born to defeat him.”

“To the devil with your bloody prophecy!” Augustus exploded, and there was a crack of lightning and a crash of thunder. Everyone jumped. “Is that all you give a damn about? Finding someone to battle that bastard in your stead? Well, you’re not using my great-grandson! Not on my watch. You stay the bloody hell away from him, Albus, or so help me I will duel you into a drooling imbecile!”

The Elemental Master’s eyes burned with a terrible light and his wand was out.

“And I’ll help you, Grandfather,” said Severus. “That’s why we hid him all these years. So he could grow up as a normal child and not some bloody pawn on a chessboard!”

“Peace! I didn’t come here to fight with you,” Albus held up his hands. He looked sadly at Severus. “You can’t protect him forever, Severus. If he is meant to fight Voldemort—”

“He’s not,” Severus cut him short. “And he never will be. I don’t believe in your vaunted prophecy, and he’s not your damn savior either! He’s a boy who deserves to grow up to be a man. Not your hero. Go find another poor sod to do your dirty work, old man. Or better yet, fight Voldemort yourself!” He turned away then, to sit beside his son and hold his hand.

“Where is Voldemort anyhow?” asked Augstus shrewdly.

“Gone. He escaped through a passage.” Albus replied.

“Was he injured too?”

“Yes. Badly, from what I could tell. Possibly fatal, but even so it means nothing. He’s Marked the boy and if he’s created a . . .” He paused and waved his wand, putting up Anti-Eavesdropping wards about the infirmary. “ . . .Horcrux inside Harry then . . .”

Augustus’ eyes narrowed. “You miserable bastard!” he spat. “You thought Henry was a Horcrux!”

“The signs were there, Augustus. You cannot deny it. The scar on his forehead, he survived the Killing Curse because of Lily’s protection spell and love, but I believe that some piece of Voldemort was implanted within him when the curse rebounded.”

“And even if that were so—which it isn’t—you were going to wait for him to die, is that it?” Augustus snarled. “You are lucky that you’re not a grease spot on the floor, Dumbledore. Take a good look at Henry there. Where’s that Mark? I’ll tell you where it is! Gone these ten years. Severus removed it with a Scar Remover he invented. If the scar were magical, it wouldn’t have vanished. But it did. Which means your theory is wrong! Furthermore, anyone evil would never have made it through my wards. Anyone with such a stain on their soul would have triggered the protections and he would have been unable to cross the boundary. Even a little baby. My wards don’t discriminate. But they didn’t. Which makes your brilliant theory null and void.”

“Impossible! I have done research, as a student Tom Riddle inquired about Horcruxes to his professor and sought information on them . . .”

The boy in the bed stirred and opened his eyes. He had been close to waking and the quarrel had drawn him right up through the gray realm. “Grandpa’s right . . .he told me himself . . .” Harry rasped, startling them all.

Severus opened his mouth, but Sandra gently covered it. “Hush, Sev. Let him talk.”

“ . . .said he needed a new body, that Quirrell’s was falling apart . . .it wasn’t useful to him anymore . . .couldn’t handle his magic . . .he said it took him years to . . .acclimate it to him . . .don’t understand what he meant . . .”

“I do, Henry,” Augustus said softly. “It means that bloody Riddle is a Body Snatcher. A wizard who has learned how to survive on the astral plane as a spirit and then to return and possess a younger body as he chooses. It’s both harder and easier than making Horcruxes.”

“He said he wanted the Stone to be immortal . . .” Harry whispered, coughing.

“Yes, he would.” Dumbledore nodded. “Without the Stone, he would have to seek a new body every few years, for possession takes its toll upon the host.”

“Rest now, son,” Severus said, removing his wife’s hand from his mouth.

Harry turned to his father. “Papa! You came! I was calling and calling you . . .”

That was as far as he got, for Severus’s arms were about him, hugging him tight, pulling him from the bed, covers and all, to cradle him in his lap. “Harry . . .Harry . . .. don’t you ever scare me like that again!” Severus half-scolded, but there was no bite at all to the words, and he pressed his son against his shoulder so tightly Harry gasped.

“Papa . . .” was all Harry could get out, then he put his head on Severus’s shoulder and breathed in the familiar warmth and tears trickled from his eyes. “I was so scared . . .”

“Shhh . . .it’s all right. No one will hurt you like that again. I promise.” Severus soothed, gently stroking the auburn hair.

The familiar beloved gesture brought more tears. “Sorry. Don’t mean to act like a . . .baby,” he sniffled, trying valiantly to stem the flood.

“Oh, Harry.” Sandra came and hugged them both. “It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. Anyone would after what you went through. You were so brave, just like an Auror.”

Harry turned his head slightly and looked directly at her, her face was inches from his own and he saw that her eyes glistened with tears too. He opened his mouth to say her name, but what came out instead was, “M-Mum? You’re here too?”

Sandra’s heart skipped a beat to hear Harry call her by that most coveted title. “Of course I am. Where else would I be but right here with you and your dad, helping you get better? This is where I belong.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah. You do.” Then he turned and hugged Sandra hard, finding that she was softer and smelled delightfully of flowers and herbs and chocolate. “Weren’t you s’posed to be on your honeymoon?” he asked, then he blushed.

“Well, yes, but when your dad got Professor Malfoy’s letter, we rushed right over here and so did your grandpa,” she told him, rubbing his back. “Harry, you scared me out of five years of my life! Thank Merlin you’re all right. Because I wouldn’t be able to stand it if . . .” she started to cry then.

“Hey. Don’t cry. Don’t,” Harry said awkwardly, then for some odd reason he felt himself start to tear up as well.

Severus simply pulled Sandra into his embrace as well and they all huddled together.

Augustus and Dumbledore kept on talking about Voldemort, allowing the little family some time to themselves. Augustus was in full Auror mode now and though he wanted to rush over and hug Harry too, he was content to let Severus and Sandra get their hugs in first. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Gem of Soul Trapping lying about, would you?” he inquired.

“No, I’m afraid not. Most of them were destroyed over a century ago, and we have lost the knowledge on how to make more,” Dumbledore said regretfully.

“Hmm. Didn’t think so, but I figured I should ask,” sighed the Elemental Master. A Gem of Soul Trapping was one of the few ways you could defeat a Body Snatcher, it would serve to trap the sorcerer’s spirit before it could jump into a new body and then when you destroyed the gem, you would also destroy the spirit trapped inside forever. “There is one other way . . .You said he was badly injured? If so, then he’ll only have a few hours to either hide up somewhere and heal as much as he can, or just keep using the body until it dies and then he’ll have to find a new one before forty-eight hours go by or else be banished to the astral plane again.”

“I doubt if we could locate him now. He’s very good at hiding.”

Augustus said nothing, he was already formulating a plan in his head. But in order for it to work he had to act quickly. He looked over at Harry, Severus, and Sandra. His beloved family. Who were now threatened by a foul evil as bad as Grindelwald. He knew Voldemort wouldn’t cease trying to hurt Harry. He would keep trying to kill the boy until either he succeeded or someone killed him first.

Augustus’ mouth firmed. He would not allow Harry to be drawn into this war, this quarrel belonged to those who knew how to fight evil best. Wars were meant to be fought by soldiers, adults who knew the cost of what they did, not children. He had come close to losing Harry tonight. That must never happen again.

“Why don’t you see if you can locate his mage signature?” Augustus suggested. “I’m going to spend a bit of time with my family and then I’ll see if I can’t do some scouting of my own.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “Tell Harry I am glad he is awake. I will see you later.” Then he beat a hasty retreat from the room. It was rare that another wizard could intimidate him, but Augustus Prince had done so this day, and he was not eager to repeat the experience. He had forgotten the power and presence those born to control the elements had, and Augustus had reminded him rather abruptly of that fact.

As he went past Poppy, she caught his sleeve and whispered in his ear, “Merlin’s Grace, Albus, why didn’t you tell them sooner? You’re lucky he didn’t bring the castle crashing down about your ears!”

Albus gave her a rueful grin. “I misjudged his temperament, I’m afraid. He cares more for his family than I had expected.”

Poppy snorted and just Looked at him. “You got lucky, Albus.”

Albus slipped away down the corridor, not wishing to admit the witch was right.

Severus had set Harry back on the bed by the time Augustus got there. “Henry, lad, how are you feeling?” The old man asked, sitting on the bed next to him.

“I’ve been better, Grandpa,” Harry said honestly. He was still feeling pain from his hand and also weak and tired. He turned and hugged his grandfather.

Augustus held him for a very long time. “You did a very brave and foolish thing, my Harry,” murmured the old Auror. “Were you on the force, I would have to both give you medal of commendation and a suspension as well, for acting without back up and risking your life.”

“I didn’t know I was risking my life. I just wanted to help Nev,” Harry said and then he explained what had happened.

Augustus nodded. “I see now. You did right, Henry. Always help a comrade in need. But . . .always be prepared too. Remember that.”

Harry yawned. “Okay, sir. I’m kinda tired.”

Augustus helped him lie down. “Get some rest, child.” He bent and kissed Harry on the forehead. “I love you, Harry Snape.”

“Love you too,” Harry murmured.

Augustus straightened. “You two will be staying here with him, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Severus replied. “But you don’t have to, Grandfather. You can go home and rest.”

“We’ll probably be home with Harry tomorrow,” said Sandra.

“Yes, that’s what I figured.” Augustus nodded. “Very well. I shall return home and rest.” He hugged and kissed Sandra goodbye and hugged Severus as well.

Then he departed the school, Apparating away to Foxfire Hall as soon as he was able. He didn’t have much time left if he was to put his plan in motion.

* * * * *

Later that same night:

Voldemort staggered across the border and onto the grounds of Foxfire Hall. He was exhausted and his wounds that the Potter brat had given him refused to heal. He was half-dead from them and the fact that Quirrell’s body was almost drained magically to nothing. He had not realized just how much energy he’d spent trying to wrest control of the Stone from that blasted Child of Light! If he hadn’t been preoccupied with holding together the shreds of his failing body, he might have wondered how he had come to set foot upon this land, when the wards had always repulsed him before. But he was not thinking and all he cared about was that he could sense a magical presence here, one that seemed old and feeble and easy prey for him.

He quickened his pace.

Suddenly the earth shook and knocked him to his knees.

He fell heavily and as he tried to get to his feet, he found himself bowled over a second time by a veritable cloud of hailstones. Lifting his hand to cover his face, he blinked and saw a light in the distance. He climbed to his feet and made for it.

Only to have a ring of fire erupt about him. He halted, snarling in frustration. Oh, how he hated this used up husk he was forced to inhabit!

He looked up and saw floating above him, a tall man dressed in Slytherin robes in the old style, with a Mandarin collar and billowing edges. He screamed in rage. “You! Elemental Master! How dare you interfere with me!”

“How dare I?” Augustus demanded. “How dare you enter this place and try to hurt my family?”

“What family? They are all dead!”

“Not all. Not all, Tom Riddle. Last night you faced my great-grandson. Tonight, however, you face me.” There was a grim finality in the other’s tone. “And you will find I am somewhat tougher to fight than a mere eleven-year-old boy.”

Voldemort was suddenly afraid. He had never faced an Elemental Master before and he could feel Augustus’ power all about him. “You don’t frighten me, old man! Give up and let me take your body! It’ll happen anyway.”

“Will it? I think not. You cannot fool me, Voldemort. Whatever ancient protection my great-grandson had has hurt you deeply. You are dying.”

“I won’t be after I take you!” he snarled and then he lunged at the hovering wizard, trying to grab the other and throw Augustus’ soul out into the dark of the astral plane.

But the wind slammed into him, knocking him back down and he cried out. “No!”

“Foolish boy. Know you not that an Elementalist is at his strongest upon his own ground?”

Voldemort did know. And so he did the only thing left to him. He rushed into the flames and allowed them to consume his body, soaring free upon the wind. No longer clothed in flesh, he was free to find a new body to inhabit, but he was only allowed two days in which to do so.

The spirit Voldemort laughed mockingly. “You lose, old man! I shall find a new body and then I shall return and destroy everything you love!”

Augustus’ eyes narrowed and he began to draw upon every bit of magic he possessed until he shone like a star gone nova. “Do you think so? Then you know nothing of what an Elemental Master is capable of.”

The spirit Voldemort cringed and glided backwards. “No. You wouldn’t dare do it!”

“Wrong,” Augustus replied. “But first, you will tell me all.” One glowing hand reached out and touched the spirit and held him fast.

Voldemort writhed, but was helpless to get away as the old Auror absorbed his memories. It took but a moment and then Augustus lifted the wailing spirit above his head and shouted, “Now it ends. This time for good.”

Then he released all of his magic at once.

* * * * * *

Severus was sleeping soundly next to his wife in the bed beside Harry when he felt the shock of it roll over him. He woke gasping and shaking, all of his hair standing on end. The power that had just been released, he had never felt anything like it. Where was it coming from?

He rose and stood barefoot upon the chill tile in the infirmary, trying to orient himself. A second later he fell to his knees as the absence of a familiar signature in the lifeweb slammed into him. Before he could even comprehend what had just occurred, a signet ring with Prince crest appeared upon his right hand.

He stared at it in denial.

No. Oh no. This cannot be happening. I am not seeing this. No! It’s a dream. His mind babbled in circles, running desperately to try and escape the truth. But he could feel it in every pore of his being.

You shall feel my passing like an absence in your blood. And then the ring will come to you. That’s when you’ll know.

The words echoed in his head like a death knell.

He shook his head.

No! This is a nightmare. Not real. Wake up, Severus! Wake up!

But he was already awake, shaking with the force of an Elemental Master’s Final Strike.

“Grandfather, no!” he groaned brokenly.

“Severus? What’s th’ matter?” Sandra asked softly, lighting up the room with a word.

Her husband was on the floor, looking as if the world had ended.

She sat up in alarm. “Sev? What is it? Is it Harry?”

“No. No. Stay here, Sandra.” Severus chanted a quick spell and his clothing flowed onto him. “I need to go home.”

“Now?”

“Yes, just stay with Harry,” Severus ordered. “I’ll . . .be back . . .”

Then he was gone, the sound of his boots thudding down the hall.

Harry stirred and woke, sensing something was gravely wrong. “Mum, where’s Papa?”

Sandra came over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Go back to sleep, Harry. Your dad just needed to go home because . . .” Her sleep-fogged brain began to clear and then she froze. “Oh dear sweet Merlin!”

Harry watched in alarm as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

* * * * * *

As soon as he set foot upon the manor grounds, Severus felt a thrumming go through him. It took him a few minutes to realize the thrumming was the pulse of the land, welcoming its new master. My lord, welcome back. Welcome.

Warmth flowed through him, chasing away the dreadful chill, try though he did to reject it. “No. I’m not your master. He is. Not me.”

But with each step he took, the land reaffirmed the age old promise, and accepted him as the lord of Foxfire Hall. His boots crunched over the grass and then he was running towards the twinkling lights of the manor house.

Halfway there he halted. The earth was blackened in a large swath, as though a fire had been lit. The smoldering remains of something that had once been human still smoked. And beyond that lay the still form of Augustus Prince, once the lord of Foxfire Hall.

Severus fell to his knees beside him, his hand feeling for a pulse. There was none. He had known there wouldn’t be. An Elemental Master’s Final Strike was always fatal. Augustus looked peaceful, however, as if he had just gone to sleep.

“Why Grandfather? Why?” Severus asked hoarsely. He rose, turning to look at the remains of what had once been Dumbledore’s Defense professor, and nearly tripped over the stiff body of Mystic.

“No, not you too . . .” he cradled the dead cat in his arms and sobbed. Mystic too looked as if he merely slept and Severus knew the old familiar had probably made his way to Augustus and died there, following his master on the last journey together.

He did not know how long he remained there, choking on the force of his grief, crouched over the body of the cat and his grandfather, but then he felt a small hand upon his shoulder. He jerked up and came face to face with a weeping Hotspur.

The elf bowed to him. “My Lord Prince.”

“No! Don’t call me that. That’s not my title!” Severus cried.

“It is now, milord.” Hotspur said sadly. “The ring has come to you and the lands affirms the trust. You are now Severus Prince, Lord Thornton, master of Foxfire Hall.”

“It’s too soon,” Severus whispered.

“I know. But this was how he chose to go, milord,” Hotspur wept. “He made Lina and I stay in the house while he went to face the Evil One. He wouldn’t let us help him . . .it’s not for you to do, he said. This is a job for warriors, and this once, I shall be a warrior once more . . .Tell Severus I left him some instructions in the study . . .Then he . . .left and soon after that we felt him . . .go . . .”

The elf burst into tears and clung to Severus.

Severus held him close and then carried him back to the house.

Lina was sobbing all over the sofa and he carefully set Hotspur next to her and gave them both a small glass of butterbeer.

Then he left them and climbed the stairs to the study.

On Augustus’ desk was a small bottle filled with a silvery substance that was neither liquid nor gas, which Severus recognized as memories. Next to it was a gold envelope with his name upon it. With trembling hands, he opened it.

It contained a single piece of parchment.

Severus, my son,

As I pen this last missive, I beg you to understand and accept what I am about to do. I have gone through all the options and have accepted the fact that Voldemort must be stopped, once and for all. Right now he is at his most vulnerable, weak, injured nearly to death, and there will never be another opportunity to catch him this way. A Body Snatcher can be destroyed only two ways totally, any other attempt to destroy the body he inhabits will only be temporary. One, you must kill the body he possesses and wait for his soul to emerge. The soul has two days in which to find a new host, after that it is sent into the Beyond, to linger about until it regains strength to seek out another host. It is almost impossible to locate a soul in the Beyond, but if you can trap and destroy the soul before it gets there, then you will have destroyed the Body Snatcher.

There are few magics that can contain a soul however. One of these is a Gem of Soul Trapping. But most of them are destroyed and if any remain in Britain, I have not time to seek them out. I must act now. The other way to destroy a Body Snatcher is with an Elemental Master’s Final Strike. Of course, it shall mean my death as well.

I know this. But it is the only way. If Riddle is not destroyed here and now, he will return again and again and try to kill Henry. And I fear that he may one day succeed and I will not allow that to happen. No child should be a pawn of prophecy.

Wars are fought by grown wizards and soldiers. I am both. For my family, I will do anything to keep you safe. Even this. I think a part of me has always known I would not die in my bed, asleep. Like the Roman soldiers of old, it is my fate to die in battle, protecting that which I love best. For your children and your children’s children to grow up free of the specter of war, I make this sacrifice of my own free will.

Make sure Harry understands that this how I chose to die, that he musn’t feel guilty or blame himself. Nor should you. Only an Elemental Master can destroy one such as Voldemort. No more of my family shall die if I can prevent it.

I could not say this before, lest I tip my hand, but I love you, Severus, as the son I never had. You have always made me proud and will make a good lord of Foxfire Hall. I wish you and dear Sandra well and hope you have many children. My only regret is that I will not be there to see them. Or at least, not as I would wish. Give my love to Henry as well.

All of my papers and the key to my vault are in the desk drawer. To unlock it, use the signet. The wards will need resetting, so do that after you read this.

Don’t grieve for me too long, son. Life is for the living—so go out and live it, with my blessing.

My only request is that you light a candle on my birthday in remembrance.

Farewell, my son. Drusilla, Grace, and Eileen shall meet me at Heaven’s gate. Or so I hope. Remember, a part of me resides within the land, touch it and I shall be with you. Speak to my portrait as well, it may help.

Love,

Grandfather

PS: If I succeed, there may be something else on my desk that you should take note of. It will be a memory bottle, filled with the memories of the late Tom Riddle, which I shall attempt to gather before I send him to hell. Please view them, I think they will contain valuable information about his followers, and you can use them to hunt the rest of the bastards down.

Severus set the parchment aside and concentrated briefly. The wards were raised and reset. That done, he put his head on the desk, which now belonged to him, and allowed himself to grieve the passing of the man he had loved like a father.