CHAPTER 34

Harry was supposed to be in bed, but instead sat hidden beneath his invisibility cloak listening to his father. A lightning bolt from the sudden summer storm lit the darkened room, throwing Snape's enraged features into harsh profile. A chill went up Harry's spine, and the longer he sat listening to his father's angry murmurs, the more confused and conflicted he became.

"The man is a danger," Snape hissed, attempting to keep his voice down. "His first priority is to everyone but Harry! As long as it serves the greater good, then Dumbledore will gladly sacrifice my son's safety, or even his life!"

No, that… that isn't true! It CAN'T be! Harry silently denied. Dumbledore would never use him like that. He cared about Harry! Why was his father saying such things?

"But... how can you even think that?" Lily asked in an anxious tone, sounding unsure what to believe. "After everything you've told me he's done for you... He loves you. Both of you!"

"I don't think the man even knows what love is anymore," Snape replied coldly. "Bringing down the Dark Lord has been his sole purpose for over half his life. I've trusted him without question for sixteen years. But how can I continue after everything he's done to Harry?"

"What are you talking about?" Lily asked. "What has he done?"

Snape was quiet and distracted, as if he hadn't heard her. A sudden, loud bang made Harry jump, and he realized that Snape had brought one of his injured hands down hard upon the tabletop. His insides lurched at the wave of guilt that sprang up inside him. It didn't matter what Snape said… His father's painful, mangled hands were all his fault. He expected to see Snape wince as be abused the contorted, painful appendage, but his father didn't even seem to feel it.

"How can I not have seen it?!" He snarled. "It's never been about keeping Harry safe! It's been about keeping him alive to fulfill Dumbledore's God damn agenda!"

"Severus, stop!" Lily replied, her worried voice drowned out by another crash of thunder. "Don't do this! Harry is safe and you're finally recovering. You've both made it out of an impossible ordeal, and... We're here. Watching over Harry – together." Lily reached up, cupping his face softly between her palms, pleading. "Please Severus... I love him, too. He is my son as much as yours. Neither of us is going to allow anything to happen to him."

Snape's anger only seemed to increase at her words, and for a long, tense moment Harry thought he would knock her hands away. But then his shoulders drooped, as if it all had suddenly become too much in his exhausted state.

He placed an injured hand over one of her own. "I would do anything to protect my family," he said quietly, but Harry almost missed it as the gale-force winds beat themselves against the outside of the castle walls.

"I know," Lily murmured. "But tonight your family is safe. You've done enough."

Sighing, his father closed his eyes and gently touched his forehead to her own.

They sat like that for long moments, both taking comfort in the other's presence. Finally, their gazes met and held, and without another word they made their way past Harry down the hallway toward Lily's bedroom. Harry sat as still as stone, hardly daring to breathe as they walked within inches of where he sat. But as their bedroom door clicked shut, he couldn't bring himself to rise. So instead he sat with his back against the wall, the churning nerves and roiling guilt heaving within his stomach. Swallowing hard, Harry felt like he was going to be sick as he reflected upon the conversation he had overheard.

What was his father talking about when he spoke of, 'Dumbledore's agenda'? Weren't all of their agendas the same? Was it not their ultimate goal to take out Voldemort once and for all? Harry had no choice in the matter – because of the prophecy he now knew that if he wanted to live, he would be forced to kill Voldemort. And he was convinced that somehow, Dumbledore would help him do that.

But why did Snape think the headmaster was dangerous? The old wizard was singularly focused on his goal of defeating evil, Harry would admit. But wasn't that the reason they all looked to Dumbledore to lead them in this fight? The headmaster was brilliantly clever, craftier than anyone Harry had ever known... But wasn't that yet another reason to trust him in this battle of good and evil?

If Dumbledore is so clever, a traitorous corner of Harry's mind whispered, would I even recognize if I was being manipulated? He chewed nervously at the inside of his lip. The churning in his gut intensified to match the ferocious storm raging just outside.

Why am I thinking like this? Harry suddenly thought, desperately trying to convince himself that he was being paranoid. After everything Dumbledore has done for me, how can I even be considering that he isn't on our side... On my side?

He sat there for long minutes. The doubt was like a parasite eating away at his brain, leaving little holes that were quickly filling with suspicion. He made a split-second decision, and the invisibility cloak pooled around his feet as he jumped up and dashed to the large fireplace. Throwing a handful of glittering floo powder into the cold, dark stones, the green flames shot to life. He quietly but firmly announced where he wanted to go, tightly closing his eyes as the spinning began.

A few seconds later he was spit ungraciously from the floo on the other side. Although he stumbled, Harry somehow managed to keep from falling. The room before him was quiet and dim, the small clicks and whirs of the tiny, delicate instruments throughout the room drowned out by the fierce wind and pounding rain.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called.

Lightning forked menacingly beside the tower, momentarily casting harsh shadows around the room. The crack of thunder that followed was so loud that it rattled the ancient window panes. Apprehension rose forcefully inside Harry, almost making him ill as his gaze fell upon Dumbledore's overturned chair behind his desk. He tried again, desperate now and past caring if he woke the old wizard.

"Professor? I need to speak with you! It's urgent!"

Suddenly a door crashed open in the headmaster's private quarters above. The wind howled through the open doorway with the force of a hurricane, blowing scrolls and parchments off the headmaster's desk to swirl through the air around Harry like a cyclone of dry leaves in autumn. He started violently as the sound of something big crashed against the wall above him – something that grunted and sounded suspiciously like a person.

"Professor?" Harry called nervously.

Looking around, he spied a flight of stairs tucked into a corner next to a tall, thin window and took them two at a time. Reaching the top, Harry's horrified gaze watched as the headmaster crumpled slowly to the floor, his weakening body braced against the wall for support. Landing hard on his knees, his body began to flail and thrash until he was completely prone against the rough stone floor. The old wizard cried out, and Harry looked wildly around, believing he was in the midst of fighting a group of Death Eaters – or possibly even Voldemort himself.

But when it soon became obvious that the headmaster was alone, Harry dashed toward the man and dropped to his knees beside him. Dumbledore looked to be having a seizure, and Harry was at a complete loss as to how to help him.

After long moments that seemed like hours the thrashing finally stopped, and Harry's frantic breathing was harsh and loud in the sudden quiet. His eyes were wide with shock as the headmaster's body lay pale and still as death below him.

"No..." Harry rasped. "NO!" His mind refused to accept what his eyes were telling him, and he desperately began to shake the old man. "Professor! Professor Dumbledore, wake up!" Sliding his arm beneath the taller wizard's shoulders, Harry cradled the headmaster's upper body so that he was no longer laying on the cold, rough stones. Harry was trembling so violently that he almost dropped the older man. "Sir–" he cried. "Oh my God, what do I–? Professor Dumbledore, wake up!" Raising his wand and pointing it directly at the professor's heart, Harry did the only thing he could think of: "Rennerverate!"

A red light shot from the end of Harry's wand and suddenly the older man gasped, crying out in agony as he clutched his hand to his chest. Harry watched in horror as the skin over the ends of Dumbledore's fingers began to wither and blacken before his eyes, like someone was forcing the old man to hold his hand within the searing coals of a raging fire. As Harry watched, the headmaster's appendage withered from a healthy hand into the decayed, shriveled skin of an ancient mummy, and Harry had to swallow back his terror.

Dumbledore rolled to the side with a groan, folding his body protectively around the blackening appendage as his trembling body curled into the fetal position. Harry was petrified. He had never seen the headmaster so weakened… So vulnerable. Witnessing it now felt morbid and unnatural.

"Wha-what do I do, sir?" He cried. "Tell me how to help you!"

"Sev...rus..." Dumbledore rasped in a painful whisper. "Get... Sev...rus."

Harry was off like a shot, flying down the stairs two and three at a time and leaping from the last few to land heavily on the office floor below. He almost fell but refused to allow his feet to stop. The fireplace seemed leagues away, but he finally reached it and threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. Shouting for Lily's quarters, he jumped from the flames on the other side even before the spinning had completely stopped and fell heavily to the floor.

"Dad!" He screamed, scrambling to his feet and rushing toward the bedroom door. "Lily, Dad! WAKE UP!"

The door before him flew open. Snape and Lily were both wide-eyed and ruffled, as if they had been startled out of a sound sleep.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked softly.

"It's Dumbledore!" Harry said, out of breath and gasping with panic. "He's hurt! I…I think he's dying!"

Lily let out a startled cry as Snape's eyes widened before he took off toward the floo, calling to Harry over his shoulder. "Where?"

"His office!" Harry answered, keeping pace behind him as they hurried back to the large stone fireplace. "The staircase up to his quarters!"

Spinning on his heel to give him a hard look, his father fiercely commanded, "Harry, stay here with Jillian. Do not leave these rooms or open the door to anyone until I come to fetch you, is that understood?" When Harry nodded, Snape turned to Lily and directed, "Come with me. I'm going to need you."

It was only when he reached for the pot of floo powder that Harry noticed the tremble in his father's fingers.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

"Dammit!" Snape ground out as his fumbling, swollen hands knocked the glittering green powder to the floor. "There's no time–!"

Lily rushed forward, scooping up the powder from between the fibers of the thick carpet and tossing it into the grate. When the flames turned emerald Snape charged into them calling out, "Lily, follow me! Severus Snape's office!"

Tripping in his rush out of the floo, Snape hurried toward his private ingredient store. By the time Lily had stepped through, he had accidentally dropped two precious jars of rare ingredients onto the floor in his blundering haste.

"Severus," Lily said anxiously at his shoulder. "I'm here. Tell me what you need."

"A gold potion in a small bottle," he muttered desperately. Cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach, rattling his normally imperturbable demeanor and causing him to accidentally smash yet another jar of rare ingredients. Frantic now, he made a desperate attempt at wandless magic and cried out, "Accio Aurea Salutem potion!" Amazingly, it worked. The potion slid out from behind a large jar on one of the back shelves, casting a gilded, shimmering light like liquid gold throughout the small storage room.

Lily didn't wait to be told. Snatching the small vial out of the air, her hair fanned out behind her as she spun on her heel and ran to the fireplace once again. Throwing down floo powder, she dove into the flames before Snape could reach her side.

He'd barely had time to unfold himself from the fire in Dumbledore's office before Lily stumbled backward into him with a terrified cry.

A thick, eerie fog filled the normally bright office, casting a muted light and long, low shadows as a fierce battle played out within the thick mist. Three figures fired spells and curses at one another with the speed and power of a muggle shotgun. On instinct Snape protectively shoved Lily behind him and shielded her with his body.

Where in the Hell is Dumbledore?!

"Get down!" he cried, and as he spoke a fourth figure darted into the fray. Snape could tell it was a female – no more than a girl, really – petite, wide-eyed, and vulnerable. But it was as if the others didn't see her frantically trying to bring the fighting to an end. The battle raged on around her, the curses never ceasing as they whizzed dangerously past her head.

Suddenly a spell hit her squarely in the chest, and her frail body crumpled as if she were made of no more than paper.

"NOOOO!"

The blood-curdling scream startled Snape, but the gloom obscured the room enough to conceal where it came from. Above them the hazy, ghostly figures crowded around the ruined body of the girl, and one of them dropped to his knees with a choking sob. A chill ran down Snape's spine as the figures began to speak, and their ethereal voices echoed unnaturally around the large space.

"This is your fault, Albus!" The ghostly boy on the ground yelled in that strange, unnatural echo. "You've killed her!"

"No, no – I didn't –I didn't mean–!"

"Don't deny it, Albus," said another of the ghostly boys in a thick German accent. "They were nothing but a hindrance. You wanted this to happen."

Grindelwald…? Snape thought in dawning horror.

"Of course I wanted it," said the third ghostly figure in that strange faraway echo. "I was born to do great things. How could I possibly accomplish anything when I was being weighed down by them?"

"NO! That's not true!" Someone cried out within the mist. But the words sounded helpless. Despairing. "Please… No…" They whimpered, "Take me instead."

"Admit it. You wanted them to die." Grindelwald crooned. And it was only in that moment that Snape noticed there was an otherworldly gleam in the eyes of the ghostly visions. A red gleam.

Voldemort.

The unearthly mist swirled around the office, clearing away near the headmaster's desk, and Snape was finally able to catch sight of a very real, very weak Dumbledore. The Sword of Gryffindor was hanging limply in left hand, the point resting against the floor. Pathetic, something dark whispered in a corner of his mind.

"I didn't – I can't – I'm so sorry!" Dumbledore sobbed, and his entire frame shook with emotion as he swayed on the spot.

"Not yet, Dumbledore," Grindelwald purred with a wicked smile slowly spreading across his lips. "But you will be. Soon you will be very, very sorry."

And suddenly the young German boy's features began to hideously morph and change until it was no longer Grindelwald staring down at the frail headmaster, but the Dark Lord. "You make yourself out to be the savior of the wizarding world," the ghostly, snake-like vision hissed. "You're nothing but a butcher of innocents."

And then the other figures began to change beside him. The boy crying over the young girl stayed the same, but the lifeless, battered body transformed into that of Harry.

A cry of denial was torn from Snape's very soul at the terrible image. As he scrambled to his feet, his gaze was focused only on his son's lifeless eyes as his heart clenched and twisted painfully within his chest, his lungs refusing to draw breath.

"No – Severus, don't!" Lily desperately grasped at the folds of his cloak as she tried to keep him down, but he didn't even feel her frantic tugs.

And then he was no longer looking at a young teenage wizard crying over the body of his son… but himself.

"No! Please God, not my son!" The ghostly vision wept in despair. Snape watched in horror, mesmerizingly entranced by the disturbing vision of his own features twisting in absolute shone thickly on the ghostly features, and the vision's hair was wild and disheveled as its hands clenched the strands near the skull and screamed accusingly, "You killed him! You – you promised me you'd keep him safe! HE'S DEAD AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!"

The wretched words echoed nightmarishly around the walls. In that agonizing moment, the vision and Snape were one and the same. In a sinister daze, all he knew was that his son was dead – murdered by Dumbledore's own hand – and he wanted nothing more than to kill the weak, pathetic old wizard that had his back turned before him, sobbing in wretched grief. His feet began closing the distance before he'd even told them to start walking. A cold, high-pitched laugh sounded unnaturally around the room, but Snape didn't – couldn't – hear.

"Severus!" Lily screamed wildly, but her scream did nothing to halt his deadly progress.

Yet somehow her frantic voice seemed to penetrate Dumbledore's anguish. He turned slowly, the sword point dragging on the floor as he met Snape's hellish, possessed gaze. He didn't even try to stop the younger wizard from advancing.

In a hoarse voice Dumbledore muttered, "I'm so sorry, Severus… Forgive me. Please, forgive me for what I have to do, my son." And with a cry born of desperate strength, he turned and swung the sword over his head, smashing it mightily down upon the table.

A spine-chilling scream rent the air as what looked like blood gushed menacingly from a deep wound on the tabletop. A sudden bolt of lightning highlighted the faces of the eerie mist figures, which all seemed to be shrieking in pain. Their expressions were twisted into angry, ugly snarls, and as the crash of thunder rumbled around the room, they disappeared in a breath of ice cold air.

Whatever spell had taken hold of Snape was suddenly broken, and he blinked rapidly to clear his incoherent thoughts and fuzzy vision.

What the hell just–?

But he was cut short as his clearing gaze landed upon a weakened, trembling headmaster. The normally piercing blue eyes were now a lifeless gray, and the old wizard's skin lacked all color as he stared weakly back at Snape.

"Severus…" The man murmured faintly, taking a single, unsteady step. And then he collapsed heavily to the floor.

"Albus!" Snape cried, rushing to him and dropping to his knees by his side. Lily was beside him in a heartbeat, rolling the headmaster onto his back and falling quickly into a healer's levelheaded demeanor. Together they quickly searched his unconscious form for any indication of what was weakening him.

"Severus," Lily suddenly murmured, and there was a quaver to her normally calm voice. "His hand – look at his hand!"

The skin along the fingers and knuckles of Dumbledore's right hand was completely necrotic, as if it had been dead for many years. And it was continuing to move up, almost to his wrist.

"Oh my God," Snape whispered. "The Corporis Mortem curse…" His wide, horrified gaze collided with Lily's. "I don't know if the potion is going to be enough! We have to get it in him – now!"

Lily was moving before he'd even finished, sliding Dumbledore's head into her lap and tipping the small golden potion into his open mouth. Snape grasped his wand in his swollen fingers, not caring about the pain but still grateful that the wand only had to be held steady, aiming at the wound. "Mortis naturam vincat non est corpus," he muttered. Snape continued chanting incantations, and could feel the darkness radiating from inside the headmaster, fighting back against the potion and the powerful healing chants.

Let him die, that dark corner inside his mind began to whisper. You made the Unbreakable Vow. And he is a threat to your son. You know he will sacrifice him for–

"No!" Snape cried as he saw the dead, necrotic tissue begin to spread at a more rapid pace, past the headmaster's wrist. Lily's startled eyes shot up, but he refused to look at her as he snarled down at the darkness, "You cannot have him!" Harry is lost without him. We are all lost without him… And he continued to chant, louder, stronger – desperately fighting for the life of the only true father he had ever known.

Another bolt of lightning split the skies, but the thunder was further now, less ominous as the sound took much longer to roll across the craggy mountains and meet their ears. Suddenly a strong golden glow came from the tip of Snape's wand, and Snape could feel the darkness slithering and coiling away, subdued and beaten… At least for now.

As the glow slowly lessened, Dumbledore's eyelids fluttered and opened.