Crossing the Line: August 1981

Crossing the Line: August 1981

Peter

Phoenix Farm had never looked so festive or felt so light-hearted. Today, for one day, Albus Dumbledore had given over their headquarters to celebrate the first birthdays of two of its children. As if it could obliterate the mayhem and tragedy that had become a routine and heart-wrenching part of their daily lives, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had thrown themselves into creating the most elaborate birthday party they could muster for little Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.

Peter had put himself in charge of coordinating the event, determined to make it memorable. The farmhouse had been festooned with colourful streamers and pinwheels that spun overhead. Garden pots had been transfigured into small carriages that the children could ride. Hagrid had somehow transported several unicorn foals to delight the older children. The gravelled pathway that led to the barn had been covered with a lush, green lawn and shielded to permit an area that was safe for crawling babies. Flowers and blooms of every type and colour from Dorcas' garden...for it would always be called Dorcas' garden...were on display everywhere. Emmy Vance had led the effort to produce a table that groaned with food and drink and replenished itself magically throughout the day.

By early afternoon on this brilliantly sunny Sunday, the farm was awash in the voices and laughter of children and adults alike. With everything running smoothly, Peter picked up two bottles of beer to seek out James and Lily. He found them in the barn where little Harry was perched atop the knee of Albus Dumbledore and shrieking in laughter as he tried to catch the magical ribbons the Headmaster had conjured and floated tantalisingly just out of reach. The baby laughed hardest when one of the ribbons tweaked his nose, and the adults who were watching laughed along with him. Peter brightened as he saw James look over, smile at him, and move through the small crowd in his direction.

"Wormtail!" James said enthusiastically, clapping him on the back. "You've outdone yourself, mate! Everything is brilliant!"

Peter beamed at his friend's appreciation and handed James one of the bottles. "It was nothing really. You lot needed a day out of hiding more than the little tykes needed a party. I was happy to do it." They tapped their bottles together in a silent toast and drank.

"I was surprised that Albus permitted it," said James as he looked in amazement at the throngs of people milling about. These included not only members of the Order, but their children and some special friends, who had been personally escorted to the farm by the Headmaster himself.

"We were all taken aback when he proposed it," agreed Peter. "But Dumbledore thought it would help beef up morale. Besides, the old man has put up so many additional layers of protection around the Farm for today, I was surprised any of us could Apparate here at all!"

"It has been... hard on us, you know," James said wistfully, looking over at Lily. "Being cooped up, isolated and all. Lily hasn't been able to see her parents or her friends. So it's really wonderful to have this one day...." His voice trailed off, and Peter, noticing James' eyes becoming glassy, shifted awkwardly.

"It looks like Annette is ready to pop soon!" Peter said to change the subject, indicating the very pregnant woman chatting with a beaming Lily Potter.

James nodded and brightened as he looked over at his wife and her old school friend. Peter was amazed that no matter what happened, James seemed unable to remain sad or disheartened for very long.

"Lily is over the moon that she's here! Annette married that Lovegood bloke last year, and Lily was so put out we couldn't go. I hear he's an editor at the Prophet. It's too bad Helene couldn't come, though; she's on the continent working with Gringotts. France, I think." James turned back to Peter. "Did you hear from Remus? Is he coming?"

None of them had heard from Remus in months.

Peter sipped his beer. "I don't think so, Prongs. I'm worried about him."

"Me, too," James concurred. "Has Albus said anything?"

Peter shook his head. "He'll only say that he's 'working on an assignment' and that he's 'fine'."

"But you don't believe him?"

"I...I don't know, James." In truth, Peter suspected that Albus Dumbledore's version of the truth varied, depending upon who was listening and what he wanted them to know.

"What do you think about this nonsense that Sirius is pushing about Moony?" asked James, clearly vexed.

For some reason, Sirius had been going on about how he suspected that their old friend might be a spy for the Dark Lord. Peter knew it was ridiculous of course, but he wasn't in any position to disavow Sirius of this notion. James, however, was a different story.

"Padfoot is tossing pure hippogriff dung!" Peter snorted, happy for the opportunity to denigrate Sirius. He took a long draught of the beer.

James nodded. "It's rubbish, of course. Moony couldn't be a spy anymore than you could, Wormtail!"

As if the beer had gone down the wrong way, Peter erupted into a fit of coughing.

*******

Several hours later, the sun still shining low in the summer evening sky, Peter sat among his friends on the freshly-conjured lawn. They had just finished a scrumptious picnic dinner, and he was basking in the lovely feeling of contentment that had settled upon them all. Leaning back on his elbows, he observed Lily chatting quietly with Annette and Alice as she leaned against James. James was talking with Sirius, his hand on Lily's knee. The birthday boys, now covered in chocolate cake, were crawling around and ignoring each other, as babies tend to do. Peter watched as baby Harry crawled in his direction.

"Hello, young Mr. Potter!" said Peter, wiggling his fingers in greeting.

When Harry got to Peter's side, he sat up with a little roll on his nappy-covered bottom and considered him with piercing, green eyes.

Peter leaned over so he was eye to eye with James' son and ruffled the boy's black hair, which, like his father's, was thick and black and stuck out of his head in every which way.

"Eyes like your mum and hair like your dad, eh, Harry?"

"Da!" chirped the baby, as if to say he liked being compared with his father. Peter, who hadn't any experience with babies, was encouraged by the child's response. He reached out and took the tiny hand in his own and shook it.

"I'm pleased to meet you, little Harry. My name is Peter, and I'm your dad's best friend!"

"Eter!"

Peter beamed in delight. The boy could say his name! Emboldened, he got to his feet and scooped Harry up in his arms. "There's a good boy!"

Instantly, baby Harry burst into tears and began to scream and arch his back sharply, causing Peter to nearly drop him in surprise.

Within seconds, Sirius was there. The baby continued to scream as he pulled away from Peter and reached for his godfather through his tears.

"Here now, Harry!" said Sirius as he plucked the baby out of Peter's arms. "Uncle Sirius has got you."

Peter reddened, upset and confused at this rejection. Indeed, Harry quieted at the sound of Sirius' voice and, tucking his head under his godfather's chin, sucked on his thumb. Peter had a sudden urge to knock the self-satisfied look off of Sirius' face.

Lily appeared at Peter's side and hooked her arm through his, leading him away. "Don't think anything of it, Peter," she said consolingly. "Harry sees Sirius all the time, and he's only just met you. Babies startle easily."

Peter pulled a face. "Well, if I could see you lot more often, then I wouldn't be a stranger to the boy now, would I?"

Lily sighed. "I know. It isn't fair, is it? I hate that we have to live like this and wish I could change things. We're lucky, I suppose, that Albus permits Sirius to know where we are. It's best for us right now."

"Is it?" he said, not caring if he sounded like a petulant child himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Is it best that Sirius is allowed to know where you're hiding?" The look of puzzlement on Lily's face egged him on. "Do you really trust Sirius with your safety? With the safety of your son?"

"Sirius would never do anything to put us in harm's way!"

Peter thought he detected a note of uncertainty behind her words. "He wouldn't do anything deliberately of course," he said, trying to sound more reasonable. "But you know how impulsive he is, Lily!"

She furrowed her brow as she considered this, but then she shook her head. "No, Peter. Sirius would rather die himself than do anything that stupid." She looked at him quizzically. "Do you really believe Sirius is that unreliable? I know how he gets under your skin sometimes and that, well, you are a bit jealous of him."

Peter felt his jaw opening and closing for the lack words in response to her comment. He felt his face flush, as if he'd been caught doing something embarrassing.

"Well, er, yes, he does sometimes," he said, recovering a bit. "But you still shouldn't put your faith in him blindly. What if he's captured by Death Eaters? How long do you think he'd last under torture?" He ignored Lily's wince. "Or if he goes off on a bender at some pub? All I'm saying is that Sirius has made some mistakes in the past and he might do so again. You and James should just... think about it. All right?"

"All right, Peter," she said, giving him a hug. "I'll talk with James about it. But you know how he is about Sirius."

Peter scowled. He knew only too well.

Lily

A few hours ago, she'd kissed her husband and son goodbye under the pretence that she'd be away for two days to visit her parents, whom she hadn't seen since Harry's christening ceremony over a year ago. Well, she hadn't lied completely. Yesterday, she had been with her parents in a tearful reunion, sharing lots of tea, biscuits, and pictures of Harry. But late last night, with Sirius' two-way mirror in her robes once again, and a twinge of guilt and heaviness in her heart, she had Apparated to the Ministry of Magic.

She should have been scared, or at the very least, nervous. For, despite her careful preparations and research, she was not at all certain that the 'experiment' she was about to embark on might not prove fatal. And, if she was lucky and survived, she could still lose her job if anyone discovered what she had done. But Lily was calm as she assembled everything that she'd carefully squirreled away over the last few months, secure in her belief that she had to try. At first, taking this risky step had been only a possibility. But since her odd run in with Severus, possibility had turned into certainty after he'd warned her. She had to do it...for Harry.

When she first began to read Perenelle Flamel's research notes, it had been out of curiosity to learn more about the long-term effects of working with Elemental Magic on another Empathic. Flamel, as Esmé had noted on Lily's first day at work, had founded their Division in order to further her understanding of the magical properties and the power that came from the complex magical element that most people called 'love'. Over the time that the founder had worked there (Lily found, to her surprise, that she had done so for over one hundred years!), Flamel had amassed an enormous number of bound notebooks that comprised a significant part of the library's vast collection. Whenever Lily managed to find some free time, she'd run down to the library and skim through them, feeling a kinship with this brilliant and innovative witch.

On a recent visit, shortly after the Potters were forced into hiding, Lily had been perusing the Flamel-filled shelves when she noticed a notebook that was noticeably slimmer than the others. Most of the books tended to be rather fat volumes, crammed full of notes, sketches, thoughts, experimental procedures and findings; the thin one caught her attention. Taking it to her usual desk in the corner of the library, she pulled back the cover of the notebook and saw, scrawled on the top of the first page, the words 'Self Harvesting'. It didn't take her long to read it, and when she'd finished, she read it again, this time taking copious notes.

********

The room Lily had picked was very small and non-descript, but fit for the spells she needed to cast. It had a long, wooden workbench along one stone wall and a small desk and chair tucked up against another. The flagstones on the floor were rough, uneven, and very cold under her bare feet. She wore a simple cotton shift, and the gooseflesh that ran up and down her arms owed as much to her anticipation as it did to the chilled air in the room. Everything in the room was simple and organic, just as it would need to be for a normal harvesting. It was critical that there was nothing in the environment that might contaminate the element in its journey from the person to containment.

Lily sat at the desk and, looking at the various objects in front of her, pulled the small photo towards her first. An image of herself looked back at her, smiling and waving. James had taken it at the Farm shortly after their wedding. She smiled back at her photo-self as she remembered that afternoon when they were still so blissfully ignorant of the terrible days to come. She turned over the photograph and, dipping her quill in the inkbottle, scratched a note to her son:

Remember, dear Harry, I'll always be there for you. Just look deep within... with love.

Spelling the ink dry, she placed the photo in a small envelope and wrote on its front:

Petunia, please give this to Harry when he's a bit older. I love you, L.

She penned another letter to Albus Dumbledore, explaining what she was about to do. She thought that if something happened to her, or to James, he'd know how best to use the information. She placed the envelope, along with the photo, together with Dumbledore's letter into another envelope and addressed it to the Headmaster.

Another letter was to James. This one was harder to write. She'd prayed to all the deities that this letter never had to reach its destination. If it did... well, he'd understand, of course, that she had to do this to protect their son. Tears came now, blotching the parchment on the desk, making it unusable. Lily wiped her face, vanished the ruined one, pulled out a fresh parchment, and wrote:

If this letter finds its way to you, then you will know by now what I have done. Dumbledore will explain it all to you, and when he is finished, I hope that you will forgive me. I know in my heart that if you could have done so, you would have done the same to protect Harry, or me. While my heart would have broken, as I'm sure yours has done, I would have understood that it was necessary. Lean on your friends, for they love you so much. You are a strong man, James. Be strong for our son. My love is yours forever, Lily.

Her hand shaking as she put the quill to rest on the desk, she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe deep, even breaths. While she had expected that this would be hard, she still had to struggle to keep her heart and her head clear.

After a few minutes, Lily had finished writing a final, quick missive to her supervisor and bound all the envelopes together into a spelled inter-office satchel that was made of dull, brown leather with wings on either side of the opening on top. She cast a charm over the receptacle that would cause Esmé to find it upon her death and, opening the door, she sent it winging off to Esmé's office.

Lily re-sealed the door and stepped into the centre of the room to begin. First, she pointed her wand to the floor below her feet. "Scourgify!" The dust of years coalesced into a single, whirling spiral and then evaporated. Next, she pulled the cotton shift over her head and tossed it onto the desk, then cast a cleansing spell on herself, feeling the tingling magic scatter over her naked body as the spell did its work like a million tiny pinpricks. Next, checking for the orientation of the space, she created directional runes with her wand, and shimmering, golden markings soon appeared in the air, hovering just above the ground to denote east, west, south and true north.

Still standing in the centre of the room and assured that the runes glowed constant, she retrieved a phial from the workbench. Inside was a derivative of a Calming Draught that she had created specifically for this moment to ensure that her body and mind remained as still as possible during the procedure, yet keep her alert enough to complete it. She had tested it previously and knew it would work as expected. Drinking it, the Draught took effect very quickly, and the warmth of the mixture spread throughout her torso and her limbs. She felt her mind relax and was relieved that her senses, as they had before, remained sharp and focussed.

Finally, summoning the small, golden, heart-shaped locket, Lily lowered herself to the floor and lay flat upon it, her head aligned with the northern rune. This was the unknown. While Flamel had written about live harvesting, she had stopped short of attempting it on herself or on another human. So, Lily could only guess what the impact of the procedure would be on a living Donor. Would she survive? And if she did, would her ability to love be altered in some unknown, terrible way? Profoundly grateful for the effects of the Draught, Lily held the unlatched locket in one hand, extending her arm straight up in the air. Then, pointing her wand above her left breast, she concentrated to summon her magic and chanted to invoke the harvesting spell that would retrieve that Elemental Magic from her own heart.

Something hot shot through her like a burning shaft of fire. She wanted to cry out, but she continued to chant and didn't move. She repeated the chant three times. Each time, the fire flashed through her. After the third time, she felt something tug from within her. At the same time she could feel resistance from her wand hand, something that did not happen with regular Donors. Perspiration beaded at her brow, but she maintained her concentration on the effort. The magic was pulled so taut, she thought she had failed. It wouldn't let go. Then, she felt a small rip within her the moment it left her body. She paused for only a moment to register that it hadn't hurt and she was still alive. Slowly, moving the wand that held the element, she brought it to meet the locket and chanted the final encapsulating spell. A bright red light flashed around the locket with a high-pitched hum, and the locket snapped closed. The light blinked out, and the only sound remaining was of Lily's blessedly beating heart as it thumped loudly in the pulse beneath her ears.

Clutching the locket in her hand, she brought her arms slowly down to her chest, afraid to move too quickly. She closed her eyes and thought of James. Harry. Her parents. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt her love for them flow through her, stronger than ever. Flamel had been right: the Elemental Magic of love could not be depleted.

It worked. Thank the gods, it had worked.

*******

As she took the lift up to the Atrium, Lily checked her watch. It was five o'clock in the morning. Although she hadn't slept, she felt awake and alert from the dose of Strengthening Solution she had taken. And the feel of the golden locket that pressed against her breast provided a measure of both comfort and hope. Whatever happened to her now, those she loved would be protected.

The lift door opened, and Lily stepped out. A few early risers were moving about the Atrium in a way that suggested they desperately needed some coffee. One or two were standing near the golden grille, reading the morning Prophet. Lily turned sharply to her right and smacked right into a witch, who fell unceremoniously onto her backside as a sheaf of parchments she'd been carrying flew into the air like confetti.

"Oh! I'm so very sorry!" exclaimed Lily, who bent over the witch to help her stand.

"My dear!" muttered the witch, a small, older woman with elegant, purple robes. "One must always be vigilant about one's surroundings!" She got to her feet and straightened her robes.

Looking at the woman, Lily blanched with embarrassment and anxiety. Standing before her with an impressive scowl was the Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold.

"Minister! Of course, you're right! Let me help you with your papers!" Lily Summoned the scattered parchments into a manageable pile and handed them back to the Minister, who was regarding her with a stern expression and pinched lips.

"What is your name, girl? In which department do you work? I assume you work at the Ministry, given the hour."

Her stomach clenched. Would she be reported to Esmé? How would she explain what she'd been doing here?

"I'm Lily Potter. I work as an Unspeakable, Minister."

"Well, well... two for the price of one! This is our lucky day, gents!"

Acting on instinct, Lily jumped in front of the Minister with her wand out and turned to see a small group of wizards surrounding them, faces obscured by the hoods, and their wands pointing menacingly. The Minister looked at the men as if they were misbehaving schoolboys and pushed Lily aside. "Put those wands away this instant! The Aurors will be called!"

But before she could act, voices called out quietly, "Expelliarmus!" and the two witches' wands flew into two outstretched and unfriendly hands.

At that moment, the lift behind them opened, and the wizards surrounding them surged forward to push both women inside. "If you want to remain alive, I'd suggest you both shut your mouths and follow our instructions," one of them said in a quiet, low voice.

The lift door closed. Lily was clutching the Minister's hand, and her mind raced. Although not in their usual robes, she knew these men were Death Eaters. They had come for the Minister. Why? If they'd wanted her dead, they'd have killed her...and Lily, too...in the Atrium and then Disapparated. Then, remembering the dissolute state of Diagon Alley, it came to her: kidnapping the Minister for Magic could totally devastate what remained of the precarious wizarding government. Lily's heart thumped rapidly as her mind tried to sort out what...if anything...she could do about it.

The hooded wizard nearest the Minister poked her with his wand. "How about an express ride to your office, Minister?"

Lily could see Bagnold start to protest, and she squeezed the Minister's hand in warning. Without reacting, the Minister stated in a clear voice, "Level one, Offices of the Minister for Magic. No stops, please." In recognition of her voice, the lift began to rise. No one spoke as it rose without stopping on any of the floors between the Atrium and the Minister's offices.

Her one chance would come in the moment the lift doors opened. The Death Eaters would have to step out first, with Lily and the Minister last. Lily put her free hand behind her back and shifted slightly so that she would be ready to reach into her robe pocket and pull out the small, two-way mirror. It would activate at her touch, and she'd have to turn it so as to reflect the scene in front of her. And then she'd pray that James would be able to hear and see...and then send help.

Used to only descending in the lift one level below the Atrium, the journey up to the Minister's Office...especially at wand point...seemed to take forever. Finally, the lift slowed, then stopped, and the door slid open. The wizards stepped backwards out of the lift, and as Lily shifted, she retrieved and palmed the small mirror.

"What do you want with the Minister?" Lily asked loudly as she stepped out into the corridor.

"Shut it, Mudblood!" The wizard closest to her pulled back his arm and, with a grunt, slapped Lily roughly with the back of his hand. She stumbled back, nearly losing her grip on the mirror, and tasted blood dripping from her nose.

The Minister pulled out a handkerchief from her robes and pressed it into Lily's hand. "There's no call for that!" she admonished. But Lily could feel Bagnold shaking.

More rough hands pushed the two women forward. Then, from ahead, Lily heard shouts and saw the flashing of red and green lights of spells hitting their targets.

"Got 'em both," called out one of the men. "Easy as catchin' pixies!" he cackled.

The Minister caught her breath. "Jones and McDougall!" she gasped. "My guard," she whispered as a look of pain crossed her face.

"Move on now. Time to go!" They were prodded to continue down the long corridor towards the Minister's office, but the small witch stopped in her tracks, pushed aside the man who stood nearest to her and placed fisted, angry hands on her hips.

"And why do you think I'd go anywhere with any of you, you ill-mannered cretins?" Bagnold demanded in her most regal, Ministerial voice. Lily had to admire the woman's refusal to be intimidated. If it didn't hurt so much, she would have smiled. She also realised that the Minister had figured out, as Lily had, that the Death Eaters wanted them taken alive, so stalling for time was their best...and so far...their only strategy.

"Because the Dark Lord wishes an audience with the Minister for Magic," sneered one of them. "And you, Potter," he added, stepping towards Lily, running his wand down the side of her face, "we don't know why he wants you, but he's been looking for you for a very long time." His breath was foul, reeking of whisky. Lily turned her head and tried to step away, but she was caught by the wizard standing behind her, who held her immobile as the one in front came closer. "Pretty thing, too," he added. She could see gleaming teeth behind a wicked smile, but she couldn't make out any other features. "Perhaps as a reward for bringing him such a prize, our Lord will let us have you when he's done."

"Why would you want to sully yourself with a Mudblood, Death Eater?" spat Lily, hoping to prolong the conversation and avoid getting to the Minister's office and her open-Floo connection.

"Let's not dally, you fool. Play with her later!" barked another of the wizards ahead of them.

Lily and the Minister were now being physically dragged along the corridor, getting closer and closer to her office.

Suddenly, dozens of sharp Cracks! filled the corridor, and Lily lunged at the Minister, knocking her to the ground and against the wall and covering the older woman's body with her own. Shouts and blasts echoed around her until she heard the welcomed sound of a familiar, deep voice by her ear. "Come with me. Stay low." It was Frank Longbottom, called to duty to assist his fellow Aurors, probably by James' Patronus.

"Come on, Minister. Frank will cover for us!" said Lily with relief, even as deadly spells barely missed them both.

They ran at a crouch until they turned into a different corridor and shoved into an empty office.

"All right, Lily? Minister?" asked Frank, who looked abashed at being in an office with the Minister for Magic.

"Thank you, young man," said Bagnold with a nod of her very dishevelled head. "I'll make sure you receive a citation for this. Well done!" She reached out her hand, and Frank shook it, turning crimson.

"Just doing my job, Minister," he said with a small smile. Then he turned to Lily. "Best talk to James. He's a right mess."

James!

The mirror had practically glued itself into her palm, and she loosened her grip and looked into it. The Minister for Magic watched her curiously.

"James!"

She saw her husband's panicked face and heard Harry crying somewhere behind him.

"Lily! Are you all right? Is the Minister safe?"

Tears now spilled from her eyes, and her heart filled.

"I'm fine, James...."

"You look dreadful!"

Frank, who'd poked his head out of the door for a moment, stepped back in and spoke into the mirror.

"All's well here, mate, thanks to you two. We caught a neat dozen of the bast...I mean Death Eaters. Sorry, Minister. Lost two of her guards, though."

"Is it safe for me to go out?" the Minister asked Frank briskly.

"I believe so. Stay by my side, though."

Bagnold nodded and turned to Lily. "I'll make sure you get a commendation as well, young lady. Even though you did knock me over. Twice!"

She turned on her heel and followed Frank out the door. Lily turned back to the mirror. "James, is Harry all right?"

She could see relief flood his face. "He's just mad 'cause I've not given him his breakfast yet. And I think he misses his mum. Can you come home now?"

Lily laughed. "I'll be there in two shakes of a crup's tails. Do you think you can magic me up a cup of coffee, Mr Potter?"

"I think that can be arranged, Mrs Potter. And then you can explain to me what in blazes you were doing at the Ministry when you were supposed to be with your parents," he said with a suspicious lift of his right eyebrow.

"I think that will require two cups, James." She sighed. "And some biscuits. Chocolate ones, please."

Severus

At one time, he thought it would be all he'd ever want. To gain entry into the Dark Lord's Inner Circle would be the culmination of all his work. To achieve the pinnacle of esteem, the perks of power, and his master's recognition. The ability, most of all, to remove himself from the front lines of Voldemort's war against the light, harbour what remained of his sanity, and repair, if he could, the corruption that Dark Magic had rent on his soul.

But since his few minutes with Lily, when the piercing of his heart had revealed that he still had one, the façade of what he had believed was his dream had fallen away like so many patches of snow melting into the earth on a warm, spring day. And today, as he stood among the others of the Circle, surrounding the Dark Lord, the stark, harsh, and terrible truth of what his life had become was now clearly visible.

Dante's ninth level of hell must have looked something like this, he thought with rueful bitterness.

They had gathered this time in a cave, and the oppressive summer heat was still suffocating even at this late hour, made worse by the Death Eater robes that they were required to wear. They had stood, unmoving for the past two hours as the Dark Lord paced and ranted about traitors, the incompetence of his servants, and the spectacular recent failure to kidnap the Minister for Magic. Now, it was easy for Severus to hear the madness in his voice and see the inhuman flash of red in his eyes. The calm and charismatic leader was still there, of course. Voldemort could wield it like a wand, easily seducing the unwary like a spider enticing flies into his web before devouring them. But the voice that used to enchant was now repulsive to him. He abhorred the men he used to look up to. He was permanently trapped in the achievement of his heart's desire. The irony of this did not escape him. Nor did the fact that he now had to rely on his Occlumency skills to an even greater degree to prevent these traitorous thoughts from reaching the Dark Lord. If he wanted to survive, he could never, ever let his guard down.

********

The mission he'd been assigned to lead was stranger than most. Muggles were the target, which was not strange, but the fact that they were to attack in broad daylight and remain invisible throughout was. Severus didn't see the point, but he wisely refrained from sharing this opinion.

The target was a Muggle football game in a town called Bedford. As they flew in a Disillusioned group over the stadium, Severus could see there were thousands of people in attendance on this Saturday afternoon. The intent was to inflict the greatest amount of damage with the least amount of effort. Do the job and get out. They flew lower, and the players on the field came into view, looking like so many multi-coloured Jobberknolls.

"Don't see the point of running about the ground, just kicking the ball. What's the fun in that?" asked Goyle, who was in formation to Severus' left.

"The fun comes next," drawled Cranford's voice to his right.

Severus ignored them as he identified their target. He directed them to a wooden, overhanging roof that covered half the stadium seats, and he felt the swoosh of robes fly past him. He couldn't hear the spells, but within seconds, the roof had burst into flames. Falling embers lit up the seats below, and the blaze spread out in both directions very fast. Severus heard whooping sounds behind him, and they all dove down to prod the fire on.

As he descended, Severus was hit with a rush of acrid smoke and the smell of burning flesh. The crowd was screaming, trying to flee the seats before the fire reached them; people trampled each other trying to escape. The smoke disoriented Severus, and as he touched down on the field, he cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself. Streams of people swept past him, and the fear in their eyes took him by surprise. A cry of someone young reached his ears, and he looked to his right to see a large man step on a child's head, crushing it as he ran, never looking back. Severus began to run himself, his head pounding, his broom plastered in his grip. He stopped at the sight of a young woman on the ground, her clothes torn, cradling an old man with long, white hair, his eyes now staring blankly, unseeing; her keening screams pierced through Severus like a knife. He ran in another direction, to where he saw a mob of people gathered in the stands, the flames licking towards them, closer and closer. Remembering that he had his broom, he mounted it and kicked off into the sky, where he could see the crowd trying to break through a locked gate. Without thinking, he pointed his wand at the chain and yelled, "Diffindo!" The chains gave way, as did the gate, and the crowd poured through it. More children and old men were being trampled as they ran, and Severus, without thinking, started to pick up the smallest ones and fly them out of the stadium to safety. Adrenaline...and something else that he didn't stop to think about...was pushing him to save the very people he'd come to kill.

It was the sight and sound of flashing lights that brought Severus to his senses, as he realised that his comrades were picking off the Muggles, killing them as they escaped the stadium. Moving through the crowd, he was able to make out the shimmering, Disillusioned outline of Goyle just ahead of him. Severus made his way towards the portly wizard, who was laughing gleefully as he aimed at a young man carrying a child. They both fell dead in the light of a single spell.

"Goyle," he rasped.

"Bloody good job, Snape!" exclaimed Goyle.

"Be off, the lot of you. I'll be along shortly."

Goyle nodded in understanding, and Severus raised his wand to shoot off their signal to retreat. In the chaos, no one took notice of a flock of large, dark birds that suddenly appeared high over the stadium and moved as one towards the east. Severus, however, returned to the stadium to see what he could do to help rectify this new horror that had been wrought by his own hands.

*******

He barely remembered returning to Voldemort to make his report, and only vaguely recalled that his master had been pleased. Severus didn't remember Apparating to Hogwarts at all, how he got into the school, or how long he'd been standing before the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. It was the soft voice of Albus Dumbledore behind him that finally shook him from his stupor.

"Mr. Snape, what has happened?"

Severus turned to look at the Headmaster, but he only saw the dead eyes of the old man on the field. He blinked a few times until Dumbledore came into focus. Severus knew he must look a sight, covered with soot and dirt and blood.

"I need your help," he rasped. The smoke had scorched his throat when his Bubble-Head Charm had worn off. "I can't do it... have to help... have to stop...." Severus felt a tinny rush of air in his ears and the colours around him fade to grey. He swayed and grabbed the Headmaster, but could not stop himself from falling.

********

It took some effort to open his eyes, which felt like they'd been glued together. But when he did, Severus found himself in a bed in the Hogwarts' hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey hovering over him with her wand.

"Whatever have you been up to, my boy?" she huffed. "You had some pretty nasty burns. Lucky for you I'd returned early from holidays.

"He's awake now, Headmaster," she said, turning her head to the front door, then whipping it back to her patient quickly. "You are not to MOVE until I say you can, do you understand me, young man?" Feeling oddly like he was back in his third year, Severus nodded weakly. The matron disappeared, and the Headmaster sat down beside his bed and leaned forward.

For a moment, Severus entertained the fantasy that his life over the past three years had been a dream. That he was still a student at Hogwarts, and he'd just been in another scrape with Black and Potter. But the look on the Headmaster's face belied that fantasy, confirming that every bit of it had been real. The old man's eyes were cold, and his lips were pressed thin and hard as he considered his former student.

"If you want my help," the Headmaster said finally, "you'll have to tell me everything. Are you prepared to do that?"

Severus froze. He wasn't prepared. There was no way to give voice to the atrocities he'd committed. He couldn't do it.

"I know that you're a Death Eater, and I know that you've come to me to seek a chance at redemption. It is not in my power to redeem you, but I did offer to help. That means you must choose, Severus, between what is right and what is easy. You must choose to trust me."

He felt the words screaming in his head, but they would not come. Too many years of distrusting the Headmaster could not be overcome in a single instant, and an overwhelming sense of shame had taken hold of his tongue.

Dumbledore sat back in the bedside chair. "You'll stay here a few more days. When Poppy is ready to release you, you can come to see me or you can return to your master. I'll not stop you from leaving, nor will I turn you over to the Aurors." He stood with a huge sigh. "Get well, Mr. Snape." He began to leave, but stopped. "The password, should you need it, is 'Acid Pops'." Then he turned his back on Severus and left the hospital wing.

********

Three days later, Poppy provided him with a fresh set of clothes and sent him off with a clean bill of health. "Be off with you! I don't want to see you back here again, do you hear me?"

Once again, he found himself standing by the stone gargoyle. Severus had made his choice. He'd tell his story to Dumbledore. He'd live with the voices of the men, women and children that he'd killed screaming in his head every night for the rest of his life. He'd turn spy on Voldemort. He may be damned to hell, but he wasn't going alone. He'd take them all down with him.

*******

A/N: My version of the stadium fire was based on the real-life 1985 fire that swept through the Bradford City Stadium in Bradford, UK, killing over 50 people. Some of the descriptions in this chapter are based on an uncredited report posted on bbc.co.uk. If any readers were personally affected by that tragedy, I hope I have not offended.

My humble thanks to two wonderful women who gave their time and attention to beta these chapters and help me to improve them: capella_black and songbook99.

Art is by anemonesque.