From the Ashes and Epilogue

From the Ashes

and Epilogue

Severus

Consciousness returned slowly. First he smelled smoke, followed quickly by pain. A dim memory of an explosion pricked through the fog in his mind. Severus couldn't open his eyes; they seemed sealed shut. From long practice, he inventoried his body for injuries before trying to move. It hurt to breathe. His ribs... perhaps a lung. One leg seemed to be twisted and throbbed with pain. His back was on fire. His arms seemed... all right. His left arm was pinned between the ground and his torso, and he could feel something soft beneath his hands. His head was pounding, and he was certain that, at the very least, he had suffered a concussion. He felt the soft thing in his hand shift and heard a whimper.

Harry.

In a rush, the fog cleared and it all came back. With an enormous effort, he forced his eyes to open. He was lying on his side with the baby tucked under his chin. In front of him lay an expanse of uneven, smoking rubble. He glanced up to see half of the bedroom roof over his head intact. The other half that had been connected to the window was gone, and the room itself seemed to have shifted to ground level. The glow of the stars and the moon overhead cast their light upon what remained of number twenty-five, Beacon Lane. Parts of the house were still on fire, and Severus wondered how they hadn't all been obliterated by the blast. His free arm reached for and found his wand. He uttered a spell that created a large, transparent bubble around him and the child to protect them against any remaining fire and smoke until he could gather his strength to do more.

Slowly, he shifted Harry into his free arm and tried to push himself up by the other. A razor-sharp pain fired from his shoulder and serrated down his back, and another screamed from his broken leg. Severus gritted his teeth and forced himself upright, his breathing ragged. He pointed his wand towards his twisted leg and muttered another spell, which seemed to set the broken bone back into place and allowed him to sit up. Permitting himself only a moment to recover from the shock of moving, Severus checked the baby. He was either asleep or unconscious, but he was, at least, still alive. The wound in the child's head had reopened, but the blood had coagulated, sealing it for the moment. It seemed that the boy sustained only minor cuts from the blast itself, having been protected from the worst of it by Severus' body.

With another effort of determined will, Severus unclasped his cloak and tore it from his blood-stained torso. He scrunched it up until it resembled a dark nest, laid it on the patch of ground where he'd just been, and placed Harry on top. The boy never stirred. Staring at him, Severus wondered how this baby had managed to cheat death twice in his short life. It occurred to him, not without irony, that he was responsible for the first attempt on Harry's life as well as the reason the boy had survived the second. As he stared, the boy's eyes fluttered open, and Severus' breath hitched as the light of the moon glittered off a pair of emerald eyes for just a moment before they closed again. He knew those eyes. They belonged to Lily.

Lily....

Where is she? Ignoring the pain in his back, Severus pushed himself to his feet. He had taken only one step when he felt himself slip. He threw his weight forward to provide a counterbalance and steadied himself. He moved carefully after that, pushing aside debris with his feet as he looked for her. He felt the stirrings of panic. She has to be here!

Finally, in the shadows, he caught a glimpse of auburn hair. Stumbling towards it, he was appalled to see her covered by clumps of shattered wall, dirt, and stone. He began to dig the debris away with his fingers, working relentlessly until she was finally released from the remains of what had been her home. His hands bleeding, he wrapped his arms firmly around her, pulling her free.

Severus laid her broken body in his lap and, with the sleeve of his robe, attempted to brush the blood and dirt out of her face. When he had done all he could, he just looked at her, stroking her face gently. He didn't need the magic of Legilimency to feel his memories unfurl and wrap around them both.

The day when she decided to make him her Potions partner. Taking her, in a panic, to the infirmary after a potions accident. Sitting in the sun, watching her write in his mother's textbook when she dubbed him 'The Half-Blood Prince.' Her easy laughter. Her sharp wit. Her caring about him. Defending him. Accepting him for who he was. Being his friend.

The ache in his heart widened, and he let it. He gathered Lily's body up in an embrace and held her tightly in death, as he had never done while she lived. She had been the one bright light in his life, and he had callously snuffed it out. His tears began to fall freely. The pain in what remained of his damaged soul rumbled deep within him and forced its way out, until a keening cry erupted, renting the still night air. He cried out for the hideous loss of the only person who had, without reservation, without expectation of anything in return, shown him genuine, loving kindness. He cursed himself, for he had betrayed her, assuring her destruction even before the final curse was thrown. He had killed the one person for whom he'd ever felt love.

He rocked Lily in his arms and wept for a long, long time. Finally, the tears ebbed until only a dull, throbbing ache remained. He wiped his face and gently laid Lily down. Then, from the crucible of his grief, he felt something new spark and take form within him. Still shaking, he pulled himself to his knees and, taking out his wand, he touched its tip to his chest, over his heart.

"I vow to you, Lily Evans Potter," he said with quiet but fierce and resolute determination. "I swear on your soul that I will fight the evil that has devoured me and destroyed you. I will sacrifice my life to do whatever it takes to right the wrong I have committed against you and so many others. I pledge myself in this. Dumbledore can take my life and use it as he will. My debt to you will never be fully paid until my own life ends." He touched the end of his wand to her chest. "To this I vow."

There was no spark from his wand. He didn't expect to see one; it wasn't possible to share a magical vow with one who was dead. But he was startled when a sudden flash of light burst over his head. He looked up and was astonished to see Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, fly down in a flutter of red and gold wings and land on his shoulder.

Severus froze, uncertain as to what this meant or what to do. Then, he began to feel warmth flow down his back, a wetness soaking through his robes. He'd been ignoring the pain there, but now noticed it lift. He found it easier to straighten his body, and his breathing eased. It was the phoenix, he realised suddenly. Phoenix tears!

"Severus."

It was a whisper in the quiet of the night, and Severus thought he'd heard it in his mind.

"I'm here, Severus."

He shot to his feet, and Fawkes took to the air, flying towards the source of the voice and landed on the shoulder of an elderly wizard in purple robes. Albus Dumbledore stood in the midst of the destruction, looking intently at Severus over his half-moon spectacles.

"I'm sorry, sir," was all he could say. He dropped his head, unable to meet the Headmaster's eyes.

"I know you are, my boy," he said gently. "Fawkes only goes to the aid of those truly loyal to me."

Severus looked up, one eyebrow cocked with scepticism.

"It's true, and I know it now with absolute certainty. As do you. And I am grateful to have it, Severus. We will need you."

He could only nod as he watched the Headmaster survey the scene around him. Dumbledore's eyes eventually fell upon the sleeping form of Harry Potter. The old man bent over, picked up the boy, and gently rocked him in his arms. Staring at the child, Dumbledore placed one gnarled finger on the wound disfiguring the child's forehead and muttered. After a moment, he removed it.

"Curious," was all he said.

"What do you wish me to do?" asked Severus, wanting suddenly to be busy, to have a purpose. To leave this place.

Dumbledore sighed, and Severus was surprised to see him place Harry back onto the robe-nest.

"There will be much to do before the end of this day. For now, I need a place...a refuge...that is unknown by anyone. It would also be helpful if it were stocked with some store of useful potions. Might you know of such a place?"

He knows, of course, Severus thought with a grimace. He always knows.

"Yes," he replied heavily. "I have a home not far from here that would suit that need."

"Excellent!" said Dumbledore. He smiled, but it was a dimmer sort of smile than usually graced the Headmaster's face when he was pleased. "I'd like you to go there and prepare whatever you think will be helpful to restore young Harry to health. He's been through a great deal tonight, and he needs our help."

"Shall I take the boy with me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. I don't think it safe or wise to Apparate with him in his condition. Especially not knowing how he survived the Killing Curse or what it may have done to him."

If Severus thought there was nothing left in his life that could shock him, he was wrong. The Headmaster's words rocked him so strongly he staggered backwards.

"Survived? B...but... how...?" he stammered.

"I have no idea," said Dumbledore with a shrug, "but it seems as if our young Harry has refused to die. And even stranger, Voldemort appears to be... gone."

"Gone?" he said aghast, hardly able to take in this information. "But..."

Dumbledore waved his hand. "There isn't time for speculation now, Severus; it's important that we move quickly. The Unplottable spell on this house will wear off by sunrise, and Muggles will be swarming all over it. I want to move Lily and James to a safe place before then. And as for Harry, I gave my Secret-Keeper's note revealing this location to Hagrid, and I expect him to arrive here shortly. I must be off, so I'd be obliged if you could direct Hagrid to your seaside home, and he'll bring young Harry to you. Later, probably tomorrow evening, Hagrid is to bring the boy to his aunt's home in Surrey. It's all been arranged."

Severus started in alarm. "Headmaster, I do not wish my involvement in this..." he gestured awkwardly, "to be known." The thought that his colleagues at Hogwarts might know of his part in this tragedy was appalling. Hagrid was a good soul, but not known for his discretion.

"There's nothing for it I'm afraid, Severus. Hagrid needs the directions, and they must come from you. All right?"

Severus nodded, even as he began to consider ways around this dilemma.

The Headmaster leant over and picked up a piece of shimmering fabric. It was the Invisibility Cloak that Severus had nearly tripped on. Dumbledore folded it neatly and tucked it into his robes without saying a word.

"I think all will be well, Severus," said Dumbledore as he placed a hand gently on Severus' arm. There was a look of trust in the old man's eyes that he never thought he'd see there. "She didn't die in vain," Dumbledore said softly.

There was a flare and the phoenix disappeared. Dumbledore followed and, Severus noted, Lily's body had gone as well.

Severus scavenged about the ruins until he found two objects that he quickly transfigured into a parchment and a self-inking quill. He wrote out the address and directions to him home on the parchment, folded it and wrote Rubeus Hagrid on the front. He cast the same spell that Voldemort had used on the note left for him in the cave and affixed it to the robes covering Harry. He had just finished casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself when there was a pop! behind him. He turned to see Hagrid, clutching an old shoe that he had obviously used as a Portkey. The enormous man burst into tears as he took in the scene before him.

"Find the boy, you fool!" Severus muttered under his breath. He didn't want to leave until Hagrid had the child in hand.

Finally, he saw Hagrid's eyes light upon the glowing note. Severus breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the man carefully pick up the very small boy and enfold him in his giant arms.

Wormtail

When Wormtail had stopped by his mother's house in the middle of the night to hide his master's wand, he had a moment of regret that he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to her. He felt a bit badly that she'd be upset when he'd gone, but there was nothing for it now. Maybe someday... well... he had other important things to think about first.

He remained in his Animagus form when he returned to his flat, just in case Sirius was still there. Relieved when he wasn't, Wormtail changed back and scratched out a note to Padfoot.

Sorry I missed you earlier. Something came up. I should be home by eight o'clock in the morning. Perhaps we can catch up later today?

Wormtail

Wormtail summoned his owl and sent it off to deliver the missive. That should do the job, he thought. Then he changed back into his rat self and prepared for the day ahead. He had some scouting to do and, unlike the disaster of the night before, this had to go exactly as planned. There was no room for error.

********

Wormtail had never thought much about his neighbourhood before, and now that he'd stopped to watch, he was surprised to see how many Muggles actually lived there. It was especially busy in the mornings, with so many of them bustling off to work. As he sat on the low wall on the corner of the intersection between his street and the one that ran perpendicular to it, Wormtail wondered idly what sort of work Muggles actually did. From this vantage point, he also had a clear view of his own front door, and it was not quite eight o'clock when he saw Sirius Black Apparate into the alleyway that ran alongside his building.

Right on time, mate, he thought grimly, glad that Padfoot was the predictable sort.

Checking on the location of the gas main that ran through this intersection, Wormtail stood up and walked the few steps across the pavement to the corner. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package and unwrapped it. Inside was the bloody stump of what had been his index finger. It had hurt like bloody hell when he'd sliced it off, and he was extremely glad that he'd had a pain potion on hand to take the edge off.

Standing as tall as he could, he yelled, "It's Sirius Black!" at the top of his lungs, pointing with his left hand, the finger he'd cut off held tightly by the others on his right.

Some people stopped, confused, while others ignored him, pushing on to their destinations. Sirius heard him, though. Just as he reached the front door of Wormtail's building, he turned on his heel, looking for the source of the voice. Wormtail saw Sirius find his mark and run hell-bent towards him. As soon as Sirius reached the edge of the pavement, Wormtail, still pointing, started shouting again, shaking in the face of vivid images of James and Lily lying dead stirring his anger and pushing it to the surface.

"It's him! He's a murderer! He killed the Potters!"

Sirius was livid, his dark eyes full of hatred.

"Why did you do it, Peter?" Sirius cried in anguish, his eyes wild and his voice pleading. Wormtail saw him struggle, not wanting to pull out his wand in the midst of the crowd of Muggles that had begun to gather.

"He did it!" Wormtail said, his tears flowing freely. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" he sobbed.

This was, as Wormtail had predicted, too much for Sirius, who reached inside his robes. Wormtail was ready. Just as Sirius raised his wand, Wormtail pointed his own behind his back and muttered, "Reducto!"

Time seemed to freeze for the smallest second before the explosion ripped through the street behind him. And in that second, Wormtail dropped the severed finger, turned into the rat, and dropped through the opening of the sewer grating at his feet. He fell and landed in a murky pool below the street, then shook himself a bit. Turning to get his bearings, he took off at a run down the sewer, leaving the sounds of screams and cries of terror behind him.

Severus

It wasn't until mid-morning that Severus was able to dispatch the annoying half-giant from his house. With Harry tended to and asleep, his own body ached longingly for a few hours of sleep himself before the Headmaster was scheduled to arrive. The infernal, oversized creature, however, wouldn't stop talking!

Finally, Severus explained that, sadly, his own kitchen was not stocked for visitors, and since Hagrid must surely be hungry, he might consider stopping by a lovely wizarding pub that was within flying distance. Sure enough, the gamekeeper's eyes lit up.

"I am feelin' a bit hungry, now tha' yeh mention it. Good idea, Professor!" he said in his booming voice. "I'll take the motorbike over fer a bit. Sirius Black leant it to me, yeh know. Poor Sirius. He was hard done in las' night." Hagrid sighed deeply for a moment, and then smiled.

"Hey, now! I wonder if the folks at that pub will have heard yet about You-Know-Who bein' gone and Harry survivin' that curse. Who could have imagined such a thing, eh, Professor?"

********

Later that night, Severus sat on the porch with a glass of whisky and gazed out at the sea below. The moon was high and bright, just as it had been the night before, its light reflecting off the water. It was the same moon, the same stars, and yet they seemed so very different.

Dumbledore had come and gone quickly that afternoon, taking a strand of memory from the child and performing some other spells that Severus didn't bother to ask about. His own tasks to remedy Harry's wounds had been rather straightforward. Severus considered that if there were ever a day to feel happy, this would have been it, to be released...finally...from his master's service. Yet, the day had been difficult for him.

It was being in the child's presence that had set him on edge. Every time Severus looked at the boy he saw the shock of unruly black hair that reminded him bitterly of his father. He imagined the boy at Hogwarts in a few years' time and wondered how it would feel to have a miniature version of James Potter sitting in his class. His stomach churned at the thought. And yet, every time the boy looked at him, it was Lily's eyes that he saw. Severus sighed and sipped his whisky, relishing the heat of it. After taking so long to get rid of Hagrid that morning, he now couldn't wait for him to return to take the boy away.

The roar of an engine roused Severus from his thoughts. Finally, he thought in relief. The overgrown fool is back at last.

********

Hagrid had wrapped Harry up securely around his massive chest and tucked him into his moleskin coat. The baby never seemed to cry, Severus noted, as he watched Harry laugh and pluck on Hagrid's enormous beard. Sitting astride the motorbike, Hagrid was, at last, ready to take off.

"Did yeh know tha' yer were famous, little Harry?" Hagrid cooed to the baby as he tried to disentangle Harry's hands from his beard. "Toasts were bein' made in yer honour by wizards all over Britain!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I believe the Headmaster is waiting for you, is he not?" he asked, trying to stifle his impatience.

"Yer right, Professor. And I'm startin' out late, too. There's just been so much ter celebrate today," Hagrid said wistfully as he stroked the boy's head. "Well, we'll be off then. Expect I'll be seein' yeh at school, eh, Professor?"

"I expect so," he snapped, immensely relieved that Hagrid wouldn't remember any of this.

The motor started and roared to life. Severus stepped back until he stood behind the half-giant and pointed his wand just below the Hagrid's right ear, where the memories of the past twenty-four hours were located.

"Obliviate!"

The giant seemed to freeze and then cocked his head to one side. Severus stepped forward, and leaning over, he spoke in Hagrid's ear.

"Number four, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey." Severus backed away quietly, disappearing into the shadow of a tree.

Hagrid's head bobbed back upright on his massive shoulders.

"Dumbledore says I'm to take yeh to yer aunt and uncle. Don' yeh worry none. Yer goin' to be all righ' now, Harry." Without a look back, Hagrid set the motorbike along the path before it lifted into the night sky over the sea and took a hard left turn, towards England.

Epilogue: Number Four, Privet Drive

November 1, 1981

Hagrid is late. Probably enjoying the festivities a bit too strenuously for his own good, he muses.

His tongue turns over the sherbet lemon he is savouring, grateful, as he so often is, for the magic that preserves his teeth, permitting him to enjoy his singular craving for sweets: his one constant, little pleasure.

Minerva sits by his side, quiet and waiting, as she's waited patiently all day on this garden wall. He hadn't expected her to be here, though he's glad she is. He is heartened by her presence, her support, her strength.

The child will be here soon.

They'd all been his children, even Tom. So many of them over his many long years. So much joy. So much loss. So much pain. Scrappy Alastor, the McKinnons, the Longbottoms...sweet Alice, brave Frank. Strong and determined Dorcas. The Black children, both Dark and Light... his heart constricts tightly at the incomprehensible tragedy of Sirius. The Malfoys. Young, afflicted Remus. Poor, poor Peter. James. Lily. So many lost. Severus. Ah, Severus he could still look after, as difficult as that would be. Severus hated and loved him in equal measure and would never take to being looked after willingly.

And now, this child: Lily and James' son. Harry.

There were so many he couldn't save. What makes him think that he can protect this one? How many mistakes would he inevitably make? In a moment of fantasy, he imagines the boy growing up whole and alive, finding his world at peace. Then he recalls Sibyll Trelawney's prophecy and sighs. No. It will be his fate, like his namesake King Harry of old, to summon and lead his troops into battle.

But, until that day, he will do everything in his powers to protect the boy. His powers, he thinks ruefully, which are fortunately quite considerable.

There are many choices still to be made. Even today, the day their world celebrated the sweetness of freedom, he's chosen Lily's family to ensure the safety of the child. He hopes that the child will not hate him too much for it and for other choices he will, in their time, have to make in the name of 'protecting Harry'.

A light shimmers in the sky. It's too bright and moving too erratically to be a star. He rises from the wall, feeling the tiredness of his age in every muscle, every tendon. She stands by him, her strong, sure hand on his arm like an anchor. They both watch the light grow brighter and the figure larger as it descends deliberately, irrevocably towards Privet Drive.

And so, he thinks, it begins.

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A/N:

Art work by the incomparable anemonesque!

Completed before the release of Deathly Hallows, I'm pleased with how much of this story still resonates with canon. And where Jo has not yet provided an explanation, I'm perfectly happy with my version of how things came to pass!

First, thanks go to my wonderful betas, celtmama, capella_black and songbook99. Also, in reposting this story here, I have to thank the modly Petulant Poetess mods for their perfectly unrelenting grammatical and punctuational efforts on my behalf: notsosaintly, Angel Mischa, Soul Bound, RobisonRocket, Southern_Witch_69, sempra, and phoenix.

To all of you who have read this to the very end: THANK YOU! I also want to thank my small but hearty band of Petulant Poetess reviewers: Darque Hart, Arabella, livvy6, SeverusLovesUs, KingPig and Lady Strange. Your willingness to share your thoughts and reactions to this story has meant the world. Thank you!

Finally, my biggest thanks is reserved for my daughter, starkid, for putting up with me paying more attention to this story at times than I did to her.