Wearing his signature dark robes, a tall man walked through the empty halls of the castle late at night. All students would be in their common rooms by now. That was unless the student wanted to be punished for breaking curfew, which these days everyone knew meant suffering a Cruciatus or two doled out by one of the Carrow twins. So that only left the possibility of staff being the unfortunate ones to come across him. And something told him that he did not have anything to worry about there either, as he had not seen a single soul in the past hour.

He had lived a lifetime in solitude, so he was used to the loneliness and silence that came with it. But this past year had been different. The looks of hatred and betrayal he could ignore as none of that was new either, but it was the looks of defeat that rattled him to the core. It was as if everyone in Hogwarts, except he and the Carrow twins of course, had given up and surrendered. He would have thought the glorious Light wizards and witches of the castle would have put up a bit more fight than that this year. Hell, so far, the only spark he had ever seen from anyone was when Miss Weasley and Longbottom tried to steal the fake Sword of Gryffindor from him. Had the whole castle truly relied that much on Potter?

Without warning, his Mark flared to life, searing his flesh once more. He hissed instantly, his hand clasping atop of his Dark Mark.

We have the boy! was the quick message.

His eyes flew open. Potter! The sneer quickly took over. He should have known that idiot boy wouldn't have stayed away this year. If ever there was trouble, there was Potter.

Saint Potter! Just like his father. Allowing others to die for him and his arrogance.

A light suddenly erupted in front of the dark-clad man before a semi-transparent woman in long ethereal robes appeared before him.

"They are coming, Headmaster," the ghostly woman murmured. "Minerva will be first."

"Thank you," he replied quietly, thankful Hogwarts still recognized him as headmaster. A flash of warm light let him know he was once again alone in the corridor. It wasn't long before he could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching, so he quickly hid behind the nearest suit of armor.

When he could just start to make out the older, stern-looking witch dressed in a tartan dressing gown rushing toward him and the suit of armor he hid behind, he noticed she had stopped, as had the echoing footsteps somewhere behind her.

"Who's there?" demanded Minerva McGonagall, her wand raised ready for a duel.

He sighed inwardly and closed his eyes briefly. Hiding behind a suit of armor. He was not a coward, so why was he acting like one? Drawing in a slow breath, he stepped out from behind it and said, "It is I."

Knowing Potter as well as he did, Severus waited for Potter's resulting curse from his revelation. But no such curse came strangely enough. Was it possible the boy had somehow learned to control his emotions this past year? Not likely, he decided a moment later.

"Where are the Carrows?" Severus asked casually, secretly hoping she'd reply they were dead. Too many times he had been forced to stand mute and witness their sick sadistic torture of the students and staff this year, thanks to Dumbledore. Death truthfully may have been too good for the Carrows, he decided not long after.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus," McGonagall replied.

He stepped closer to her then, hoping to illicit some sort of response from Potter. There was no way the boy could just stand there and not give in to his natural protective instincts. But, still, there was no reaction. His dark eyes darted about, looking for any sort of clue as to where the boy was. He couldn't just come out and say the boy's name of course. Not unless he wanted to draw attention to himself and reveal his true loyalties.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder."

"Really?" McGonagall replied dryly. "And what gave you that impression?"

Unable to speak about his Dark Mark without revealing his true disgust for the ugly mark on his forearm, he merely motioned to the black tattoo instead.

"Oh, but naturally," she said. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."

It took everything in him not to flinch at her words. Everything he had done to shed his past had been erased this past year. All that work to repair his life and live in the light once more was gone. He was once again just a Death Eater. A nameless sheep no one gave a damn about. A coward.

He pushed away the pain her words caused, though. He couldn't afford to be distracted from his mission. Not if he wanted to make things right with Lily in the end. But, more importantly, with himself.

"I did not know it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva."

In fact, if he was right, it should have been Septima Vector's night to do so.

"You have some objection?"

"I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"

The old cat and mouse game. If the situation weren't so serious, he might have laughed.

"I thought I heard a disturbance."

"Really? But all seems calm." He stared deeply into her green eyes, ignoring the deep ache in his chest that had appeared. "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist—"

The moment he saw her wand slash angrily through the air, he drew in a sharp breath and cast a Shield Charm. So, it would be Minerva who would start it off, not Potter as he had assumed it would be.

As he and McGonagall dueled, objects transforming left and right dangerously around them, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear every now and then. It was what was left of the boy untouched by the darkness within himself. The small little boy who had cowered in his bedroom as he heard his parents scream and argue for hours on end. The boy she had once knew.

When the smoke from the conjured serpent transformed into daggers hurtling through the air toward him, he shoved the suit of armor he had been hiding behind in the daggers' path. There was no coming back from this now. She would never believe the truth about him. That he wasn't the dark wizard he had once been in his youth. Not now. To her, he was only an enemy she needed to end.

"Minerva!" a squeaky voice called out.

Severus didn't need to look at the approaching trio to know it was the other Heads of Houses.

"No!" Flitwick squealed. "You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!"

Diving out of the way, Severus escaped the clutches of the suit of armor that Flitwick had brought to life a second earlier. He couldn't fight them all off using only defensive, non-lethal spells. Not when McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick had no problem using every lethal spell they knew. He whirled around to flee, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle with them. He didn't want to hurt any of them. Didn't they see that?

Another spell was hurtled at him. This one just missed his shoulder and crashed into a nearby window that blew apart and shattered. Another jet of light streaked by before exploding brightly outside.

He would have to jump, fly to safety to escape their curses. His fingers curled tightly around his wand as he sprinted toward the broken window.

"Coward! COWARD!" McGonagall screamed after him.

No . . . no they were wrong. They were wrong. He was braver than any of them. Were they pretending to be someone else like he was? Were they standing by as people they knew were being tortured, unable to do anything but watch and not react? Were they willing to bear the brunt of others' anger and grief, just to keep up the appearances of being Dark? Were they sacrificing all that they had worked so hard to regain for the Greater Good? Were they doing anything he was? No. No, the real cowards were Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, using others as pawns in their twisted game of real life wizarding chess. Sacrificing people as if they were nothing. As if they didn't matter.

He was not a coward. Not anymore. Not since he had given up the darkness and chosen the light. But they wouldn't know that until he had fulfilled his promise to Lily all those years ago. Until then, he would do what no else would. He'd sacrifice himself to the darkness and give them all a fighting chance. It was the only way.

As he leapt through the window, he felt the stinging rain pelt against him at once before a jolt of something shocked him and sent him flying back toward his attackers. His back hit the floor first, causing all the air to rush out of his lungs. Then his head slammed back against the unforgiving stone before it all went black.