Harry was panting and gasping and snorting after being sick over and over again. He let out a loud moan and leaned his front against the ground in the cold grass. His whole body was shaking. He was warm and cold in turns as waves of nausea washed through him. He rolled over on his back and took a couple of deep breaths. It was sinking away again. He had managed four Avadas hitherto. It was more draining and torturing than anything he had experienced by way of magical exertion.

Harry crawled back to the fire where Snape sat waiting. Three more to go - he did not know whether he could make it. Snape did his part. He had woken Harry up and almost lifted him from the ground during the first attack which, as he had predicted, was the worst because Harry had been so deep in pain he could hardly move. Avadas number two, three and four had been nearly as difficult to perform, but Harry had been able to start earlier with his incantations. He had been worse and worse afterward instead and retched non-stop for half an hour after this last attack. After every Avada Kedavra, Snape recited long incantations and circled around Harry, drawing with his wand and gesturing with his left hand in deep concentration.

Snape pulled a cloak over Harry’s shoulders and gave him a cup of water that Harry gulped down. He shivered and leaned toward the fire. After a while the flames started to blur before his eyes. His head felt heavy.

“You can’t go to sleep, Harry!” Snape shook his shoulder. Harry looked at him despairingly.

“Talk to me, then,” he asked. “Keep me awake.”

Snape looked back in consternation.

"I don’t know,” said Harry wearily, ”…tell me anything. Tell me about Med school at St Mungo’s, or about ghouls in Albania. Tell me how my mother saved you from the Draught of Permanent Peace. Tell me how you became a Death Eater. You choose.” Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hand. Snape shifted his gaze from Harry to some point deep in the middle of the flames.

“Ghouls in Albania?” he said. “I’ve never been to Albania. Do you confound me with Voldemort?”

“Just an example,” muttered Harry.

“I did fight a particularly foul ghoul once, here at Hogwarts. It was the murderous, flesh-eating kind. It was found to be at large in the Southeast tower of the castle and had been trapped there by the staff. It was terrific. They were waiting for Professor Dumbledore to come up with a way to get rid of it without killing it. But I let it out to fight it.”

“You let the ghoul out? Why? Wasn’t that - excuse me, Professor - a bit arrogant of you to think that you alone could do what the other teacher’s had not been able to do together?” said Harry incredulous.

“I don’t pretend that it was a very rational thing to do,” replied Snape. “My ineptitude as a fifteen-year-old to deal with the feelings of disappointment and grief was the ground for my actions. This was after the OWL exams... And I don’t think that my intentions were very clear even to myself...”

“You were only a pupil... After the OWL exams...” repeated Harry and went quiet. He had assumed Snape was going to recount some exploits from his years as a teacher at Hogwarts.

Harry knew what this was about. He had witnessed the prelude to this event in the memories of Snape. Both of Harry’s parents were involved. James Potter had attacked Snape that day after an OWL exam, together with his friends Sirius and Peter Pettigrew, and under the passive allowances of Lupin. James had used the - at the time so popular - Levicorpus spell on Snape. Ironically, to Harry’s knowledge, it was actually one of the precocious and despised teenager’s own inventions that had been used against him. James had dangled Snape upside down by the heel and taunted him in front of the other pupils. In his humiliation Snape had insulted the fifteen-year-old Lily who had come to Snape’s rescue, by calling her a “filthy Mudblood”. Later that evening, Snape had gone to see her and tried to apologise, but Lily had turned him down coldly and confronted him with his prejudices against Muggle-borns like herself.

“I had had an agonising night and not slept at all,” Snape began his narrative. “At dawn, I climbed the tower and let the ghoul out. We fought each other in the open air at the very crest of the tower. I knew more curses than most of my age and I had just practiced the Spiral Case Knight’s Battle Move, an ancient combat technique where you circle up in the air as you attack your enemy. I managed to hit him a couple of times, which did nothing but provoke him. The ghoul could fly for real and got the advantage of me eventually. The Spiral Case Knight’s Move is energy consuming when you do it without a partner and you cannot keep it up for long. Before he hit me, I had managed to produce some Misty-ropes that wound around him and constrained him. I was fighting to tie him up to an iron loop in the stone wall when he simply cast himself over me and bit me in my left shoulder - the same, strangely, that Nagini attacked to kill me not long ago. This kind of ghoul eats flesh from dead bodies and his bite paralysed me. I fell down hard on the edge of the stone wall that circled the top of the tower. The ghoul was right over me to finish me off, still struggling with the Misty-ropes, when Dumbledore came storming up the tower and fought the ghoul away.”

Harry listened disbelievingly. He saw before his eyes the spindly figure of Snape’s as a fifteen-year-old, rising in the air, fighting in desperation and tumbling down.

“What a reckless thing to do,” said Harry in a disapproving voice. “You could easily have been killed and the murderous ghoul could have gone after other students as well. Did you not think about that? What did Dumbledore do? Wouldn’t you risk being expelled?”

“It so happened that morning that Dumbledore had just received a message saying that my mother had died. I think that they somehow believed that I, too, had been reached by the news, or had had a premonition of some kind, and acted out of grief for her. So Dumbledore and Mme Pomfrey were insupportably kind and caring, whereas I was utterly confused. I don’t think that I spoke a word that morning at the Hospital wing before I was sent home to my father,” said Snape in a quiet voice.

“I’m so sorry about your mother!” exclaimed Harry, taken aback by the serious turn of the story.

“Yes, it was tragic, really,” Snape answered blankly. ”I’m afraid it was probably a suicide, no doubt by a deadly potion, although no one told me so at the time and it was hushed down. She worked as an apothecary and was skilled at potion-making. She taught me from when I was little. She was never happy in her life, though.” Harry felt a surge of pity for Snape. “The following summer was pretty awful.” Snape spoke without emotion. “My Muggle father was drunk most of the time. Under the pretext of being devastated by his wife’s death, naturally. Dumbledore came by my house to check on me, but I wasn’t at home... I was out on the streets most of the time...  I suspect my father turned Dumbledore away rather rudely. He’s a man who holds magic in deep contempt.” Snape sat in silent contemplation.

“What about Lily then?” asked Harry. “I’m sure she would have wanted to make up with you in a situation like that and comfort you. You were friends… even if you had had a row...”

Snape cast him a strange look but did not answer.

“But of course...” said Harry to himself. “She must have returned to Destersbridge for the summer holidays. This must be the summer when she rescued you from taking the Draught of Permanent Peace!” he exclaimed looking at Snape who averted his eyes.

Harry had been so wrapped up in the story that he had not felt the first signs of an attack approaching. Now he was caught by a violent cramp in his chest and stumbled up to his feet. With a shaking wand, but determinedly, he called the creature forth. As it hung in the air before him it seemed to vibrate malignantly.

“I want to kill you,” Harry stuttered to it. “I want to kill you for my mother.  Avada Kedavra!” The creature exploded in a thousand glowing pieces that dissolved into the air. Harry spun round with vertigo. The ground rocked up and down like a ship on a high sea and the trees of the forest swayed from vertical to horizontal. He was out of it for another thirty minutes, digging his fingers into the ground to maintain his balance even on his four. When the vertigo abated, his legs did not bear him and he dragged himself on his hands and knees back to the fire.

“What if I pass out before the seventh Avada Kedavra?” he said in a crackled voice to Snape. “I’m not sure I can take more of this.”

“There’re only two more left,” said Snape. “You don’t have a choice. If you don’t do it tonight you’ll need to recommence another night - or you’ll die, or go mad,” he continued in a matter-of-fact voice. They went silent. Harry started to get hypnotised by the fire again and swayed as if he would fall into it any moment when Snape cleared his voice.

“You wanted to know how I became a Death Eater,” he said. Harry straightened up and looked at him as if surprised that Snape would want to talk to him again at all, since the previous tale had taken a turn to reveal more than Snape had probably intended from the beginning.

“Yes, I would,” Harry said cautiously. Snape drew a slow, controlled breath.

“My mother went to school with Tom Riddle,” he began. ”They were in the same year. Back at home, when I was little, she always spoke with admiration of Lord Voldemort and of his brilliancy. I guess that gave me a warped picture of The Dark Lord from the beginning... “ Snape made a grimace before he continued. “When I started at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy was one of the Slytherin prefects. Lucius gave me protection in exchange for small services...”

Harry remembered that Sirius had once called Snape “Lucius Malfoy’s lapdog”. Harry could well imagine that Snape, who came from a poor family without important connexions - which was the only thing that counted in the Slytherin sphere - indeed needed protection.

“When Lucius graduated from Hogwarts five years ahead of me, he stayed in contact with a gang of us younger students who admired the Dark Lord. There were Mulciber and Avery and me and some others. I admit that at the time I had become fascinated by the Dark Arts. It gave me a sense of power to master that branch of magic. To have the knowledge how to scare and punish the kids who made fun of me made me feel superior to them and able to endure their stupid taunts. But as opposed to my Slytherin friends - if you could call them that - I was careful to learn about the defences against Dark Magic as well. It was more fascinating for me to know how to undo and heal a bad curse than to cast it. I tried to explain this to… to... well... that’s how it was.”

Explain to my mother, Harry thought but didn’t say anything.

“Lucius became a Death Eater several years ahead of us, and it was he who introduced us to Voldemort. Lucius’ family was influential and had an ancient history of allegiance to Slytherin ideals and to Dark Arts in general. They belonged to Voldemort’s earliest and most fervent supporters.” Snape’s face darkened.

”I signed up as a Death Eater when I was eighteen,” he said between clenched teeth. ”I had left Hogwarts by then and gone to St Mungo’s School of Magical Medicine for half a year. It was in the winter and Lucius had brought me to yet another recruiting meeting. They took place at the Malfoy Manor where young people who hoped to be noticed by Voldemort were brought together. Lucius’ father, who was the head of the manor at the time and an important financial supporter of Voldemort, presided over the events. We stood waiting silently in long rows, in awe of the Dark Lord who advanced slowly before us, stopping from time to time to ask a question or to Legilimency our thoughts, before he proceeded. I had been to several of those meetings, but had been in disgrace with Voldemort because I had had the chance to sign up one and a half years earlier but turned him down.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh... not turned him down right to his face - that would have been impossible - but when Lucius made the suggestion, I declined to come to a meeting, because I was under the influence of... I was under another influence at that time.”

Under the influence of Lily, thought Harry. The time would correspond to the summer between their sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts. Harry knew that his mother and father had become a couple in seventh year.

“You went out with Lily before she started going out with James!” exclaimed Harry.

Snape flinched and looked furiously at him.

“Sorry... sorry … Forget that…” Harry tried to recoup himself. ”Please continue... I won’t say another word…” Harry was all too aware how easily Snape was thrown off balance by the subject of Lily and regretted voicing his realisation.

“I’m trying to explain to you here how I became a Death Eater!” Snape spat angrily and seemed to fight to pull himself together.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to look subdued.

“So I had been in disgrace,” emphasised Snape. “I don’t know if I can say that I was deceived by Voldemort. I knew he was evil. I knew what he did to Muggles... but there was an admiration of his skills, and a belief that an Almighty wizard like him would have a genial plan for the world, and that if you were among the chosen ones, if you were worthy, you would be part of that Greatness. I was to learn later that his only plan was to be in power at all cost and that loyalty to the Dark Lord was no guarantee from punishments or from being used, if only it served his personal purposes... so maybe, I was deceived in him all the same. There was, I think, a naive thought among many of us that he would provide for us, at least if you belonged to the inner circle of the Death Eaters.”

Snape concentrated and spoke slowly as if careful to search his mind for the most sincere expressions. Harry wondered why Snape took such pains to elaborate on his motives for joining Voldemort. Snape could have chosen to speak about anything that would distract Harry. Why was he so intent, if not on justifying himself, at least on explaining himself to Harry?

“That evening at the recruit meeting, I was in a curious mood. I had witnessed something the night before that had made me realise... It’s hard to explain, but I felt like I had lost everything... Even the slightest hope for a chance of personal happiness in life was gone... There wasn’t the slightest hope...not ever...”

Snape looked Harry straight in the eyes and for a second Harry saw a flicker of deepest pain, or was it just the fire that was mirrored in Snape’s dark eyes?

“It felt like nothing mattered. I was exhausted, feverish. I had worked hard at St Mungo’s, got little sleep and performed a series of Relieving Incantations which have some side effects that worked upon me. When Voldemort stopped in front of me, I felt a longing to plunge into the darkness. The prospect of giving up body and soul to an Extraordinary Creature, of obeying someone else and to be free from your inner torments was soothing to my troubled mind. To be near the Greatest and to do what He commanded... I could just as well die for Him as just to die...”

Harry shuddered. He wondered whether Snape really wanted him to hear this, if he would not regret in a moment what he had told Harry. What if he just stood up and walked away before they finished the seventh Avada Kedavra?

“Voldemort picked up my devoted feelings and made me the offer. And I let him burn the Dark Mark in my arm,” Snape finished in a whisper.

At the same moment pain seized Harry by such force that he was thrown backwards. He could barely stand on his legs. He started mumbling the incantation so fast he stumbled over the words and had to start over again. He managed to complete the incantation before he doubled up with pain.

“I can’t see,” he gasped. “Is it there?” 

There was no reply.

“Help me! Where are you? Is it there? I cannot see. You must show me the direction!” Harry panicked.

“It’s right in front of you.” Snape was at Harry’s side. “Keep your concentration or it’ll vanish.” Snape grasped Harry by the wrist and pointed at the foul creature. “Quickly, the Avada,” he said. “With all your force and conviction. Come on!” Snape let go of Harry’s arm just as the green light of the Avada Kedavra left Harry’s wand.

The vertigo never seemed to want to stop. Harry tottered about the clearing and spoke to himself. He seemed to be having hallucinations. Snape heard bribes of words.

“Been in my head... must finish him... Used people... Killed... Evil... He killed you, Mum… You let him... To protect me... Mum! You shouldn’t have… Sometimes I think... You want me to fight, don’t you...? Don’t you…? Ginny... She’s waiting for me... At least I think so... So tired… He stayed… He stayed... He helps me... Why are the trees upside down...? My sight is so bad... Maybe I’ll need my glasses again... It’s holding me all the time now... I can feel its grip on me... I love you, Mum… I promise to finish it... Soon… Seven times... Seven Horcruxes... Or eight.... What if there are more…? What if Dumbledore was wrong…? What if I never get rid of him...? I’ll fight him again and again and again... I want it to stop... I just want it to stop...” The anguish in Harry’s voice increased. When he was about to stumble into the fire, Snape caught him and swirled him round.

“Sit down for a bit, Harry, to gather forces,” he said.

“I thought you went away,” muttered Harry. “It’s nice of you to call me Harry, I prefer that.”

The darkness around them was a tiny bit less compact than before.

“I’m sorry.” Harry staggered away again, muttering to himself. After a while he came stumbling back towards Snape and almost knocked him over. “Isn’t it time yet? When is it time? What if we miss the seventh killing? I dare not sit down. I’m so tired,” he complained.

“Hang on, any time now,” said Snape steadying Harry by the arms. Harry sank down on his knees. Snape knelt down too. “Keep up, Harry!”

Harry’s head rolled until it bumped on Snape’s left shoulder. Snape recoiled a little under the weight and made a grimace of pain. He looked down with puzzlement on the mop of black hair on his chest. Harry became still except for his heaving breath.

“Harry, you mustn’t go to sleep!” Snape shook him by the shoulders.

“Only gathering forces. Just a minute, please,” came from Harry.

A few seconds only were enough, then Harry jerked his head away from Snape’s chest and rose in one movement. He gripped his wand tightly. Determination mixed with pain in his face and for the seventh time that night he conjured up the creature that was torturing him. He straightened his back and lifted his head. The last Avada Kedavra that left Harry’s wand was so powerful it lit up the whole clearing and Snape was blinded for a moment. He was just in time, when the light faded, to catch Harry in his arms as he collapsed. Snape put him down on the ground and checked his pulse, then started to sing the incantations circling Harry. Light of dawn filtered through the trees. Snape checked the still body again. Harry Potter was sound asleep.

***

Minerva McGonagall shivered and pulled her cape closer at her neck when she came out of the castle as the first faint beams of the sun painted the sky at the horizon pink. She hurried across the lawn to Hagrid’s cottage and knocked at the door. She was let in by the keeper who was clad but still dazed with sleep. Flames were dancing happily in the fireplace.

“Good, you’re up!” said Professor McGonagall. “How is he?”

“Still sleepin’ like a baby,” said Hagrid and gestured towards a bed at the far end of the room.

“Amazing! He has been asleep for twenty-four hours,” exclaimed Professor McGonagall. “We’ll have to wake him up then,” she continued a bit nervously. “Go on, Rubeus.”

Hagrid went up to Harry who lay in the enormous bed peacefully, mouth slightly open.

“’Arry, ‘Arry!” Hagrid shook him gently by one shoulder. It took him at least five minutes of pushing and shaking before Harry opened his eyes. He sat up abruptly and looked around, not recognising at first where he was. When he saw Hagrid and Professor McGonagall who stared at him apprehensively, he inclined his head a little to the side.

“Hello!” he said tentatively. The sound of his gentle voice broke their frozen positions.

“Good morning, Mr Potter!” said Professor McGonagall. “How are you feeling?” Harry inclined his head to the other side, frowning. A broad smile spread on his face.

“I feel so rested!” he exclaimed jubilant. He cast the cover aside and sat at the bedside. “We did it! I’m cured! Where’s Professor Snape? He saved my life, I must thank him! And I want to go home to the Burrow,” he added eagerly.

“Of course you shall,” said Professor McGonagall. “We’ll have to go and see Professor Snape first, though. It’s early in the morning, but he has a busy day in front of him today. They’re coming from the Ministry to inspect Hogwarts. That’s why he asked us to wake you up this early. I’m to take you to his house. He said he had some business to clear with you before you went to the Burrow... And he wants to see that you’re well, of course,” she added. 

“It’s early morning,” said Harry slowly. “But that means it’s Friday today. Ron and Hermione are coming home! They must be worried about me at the Burrow! Has anyone sent them an owl to explain why I’ve been gone so long? A couple of nights at most, that’s what Professor Snape told them when we left. I’ve been away three nights now.”

“I sent’em an owl yesterday,” intervened Hagrid. “So don’t you worry. Get dressed instead. I cleaned them clothes for you. Looked a mess you did yesterday mornin’ when Snape came with you on a stretcher. ‘E did not look so good ‘imself, actually. Don’t know what you could’ve been doing in the forest at night like that.” He sounded disapproving.

“It was important. You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” Harry looked from Hagrid to Professor McGonagall. They shook their heads.

“Hurry up now, please! Severus doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” said Professor McGonagall.

Harry had difficulties to keep up with his head of house as they walked quickly to the ramparts outside of which the Non-Apparition Zone ended.

“Wands drawn, please, Harry,” said Professor McGonagall a bit nervously. “Mrs Steadfast’s orders. They got some kind of warning yesterday and it caused a lot of to-dos. Professor Snape wanted Mrs Steadfast to assign you an Auror, but she was adamant your refusal should be respected. She just asked us to be vigilant. I believe security has been heightened at the Burrow as well.”

“I wasn’t aware there had been any special security in place this summer at the Burrow,” muttered Harry.

“Here we go then, on three.” They Apparated separately and turned up only a step aside in the lane near Snape’s house. The lane was deserted as was the street when they peaked up and down at the intersection. Professor McGonagall knocked on Snape’s door while Harry watched the street with his back to her. He wondered if the security measures were not exaggerated. 

“Come on in,” he heard Snape’s voice behind him. They entered. “No problems? All well, Minerva?” asked Snape.

“All went well,” she confirmed.

“Professor!” exclaimed Harry. “I have slept!”

“For some time too, I’ve heard,” said Snape in a rather reserved tone, but he could not repress a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you so much! You saved my life!” Harry stepped forward to take Snape’s hand in his. He could have hugged Snape there and then if a stiffness on Snape’s part had not held him back. 

“I’m glad I could help,” Snape said formally as he shook Harry’s hand.

Harry recoiled a little. What was the matter with Snape? Was it because of the presence of Professor McGonagall?

“I’ll need a moment with Mr Potter, Minerva. Go back to Hogwarts and look over things for me, please. I’ll be with you in a short time.”

“Goodbye, Harry. I’ll see you on Monday then,” said Professor McGonagall kindly to Harry. It seemed to him that she noticed Snape’s reserve and was desolate for it.

“Goodbye,” said Harry. The door closed. Snape was looking down at the floor. “I do have a place at Hogwarts, don’t I?” Harry felt best to ask.

“Of course you do,” Snape said distractedly as he lifted his head and looked Harry straight in the eyes.

“Obliviate!”

It was only thanks to the fact that Harry already had his wand drawn and that he was so used to be on his guard with Snape that he had just the time to take a step backwards and draw up a protecting shield in front of him. It deflected the memory charm Snape tried to impose on him. For a short time they fought fiercely with flashing wands but Harry could fend off Snape’s new attempts. With fury he cast a Protego spell that launched Snape into the room off balance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry hissed angrily. “How dare you try to Obliviate me?”

“I found the extracts of my memories yesterday...” Snape answered aggressively, “...when I was going through Dumbledore’s Pensieve Library, in a phial labelled “Severus Snape’s memories given to Harry Potter in May 1998.”

“Yes, that’s where I put it the day after I killed Voldemort when I went back to Dumbledore’s… to your office. I thought it was the appropriate place. Those memories are part of a puzzle, part of History. The phial has been under your nose all this time among the other bottles. I wonder you didn’t look there earlier. But I would have told you where it was.”

“I have destroyed them,” said Snape.

“You do as you please, but you can’t take my memories away,” retorted Harry forcibly.

“I don’t want anyone to know about Lily,” said Snape with rising fury in his voice and started to walk towards Harry again. “I told you too much in the forest.” The anguish was clearly written on Snape’s face.

“I know you think you did,” answered Harry backing off, “but you really just told me about a ghoul in the south-east tower at Hogwarts long ago and about a meeting at the Malfoy Manor. I won’t tell anyone!”

“I’ll never again talk to you or to anybody else about Lily. I forbid you to mention her name in front of me,” hissed Snape.

“I won’t. It’s your choice.” Harry tried to keep his voice calm and steady but his hands shook. “I won’t tell anyone what your memories showed and I won’t repeat what you told me in the forest last night.”

“How do I know that you won’t tell?” cried Snape in anguish, brandishing his wand again.

“I owe you my life!” exclaimed Harry in desperation. “Don’t you understand that I’m eternally grateful to you for that? Why can’t you trust me? I’m her son. Do me the courtesy of believing my word!” Harry’s voice crackled. He lowered his wand. So did Snape. They stared at each other. Suddenly Harry went white in his face and staggered backwards.

“What’s the matter? Are you unwell?” said Snape. He grabbed Harry’s left arm to support him.

“I’m just a bit dizzy...  from starving,” Harry said stiffly. He disengaged his arm from Snape’s grip with a jerk.

“I forgot, you haven’t eaten for...” Snape begun to say.

“Several days.” Harry finished the sentence resentfully. He did not look at Snape.

“I can make you some...” Snape gestured toward his kitchen but Harry interrupted him.

“Don’t bother, Sir. I’ll soon be at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley will help me to it. She’ll be more than happy to feed me up.” Harry tried to compose himself. “Thank you again for the help you’ve given me,“ he said formally. The happiness that had been in his voice earlier when he thanked Snape was gone. “You have my word. I won’t speak of your secrets,” he continued.

Snape looked at him blankly.

“Will you promise you won’t try to Obliviate me again?” Harry raised his voice. At last Snape answered:

“You have my word.”

Harry left. Snape offered to accompany him to the Burrow for security reasons but Harry declined firmly but politely, anger and disappointment merely contained. As he walked the few steps into the lane to Disapparate, he thought of Ginny and felt a surge of relief and longing. He would just forget about Snape and go back to his friends. Ron and Hermione were coming back. He was cured and well. He had been liberated from suffering and death. It was all that mattered, he tried to persuade himself.