Fellowship & Fairydust

All that was left, as he stood by the white tomb, was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, and for a long moment, in the cold silent darkness, Severus stood alone, waiting.

Finally, a rustling sound came from behind him, and he spun to face a dark-hooded, silent figure.

“And who, exactly… are you?” he demanded, falling back a step.

The figure said nothing, but a thin, pale, long-fingered hand with jagged, uncut nails emerged from the sleeve of the overly long robe and reached toward him—a hand that was eerily, and unpalatably familiar.

Nervously Severus took the offered hand, and within moments found himself in the shrieking shack facing future versions of himself and Voldemort. Nearby, the menacing serpent, Nagini, lay coiled within a sphere.

“I have a problem, Severus,” said that version of Voldemort softly.

“My Lord?” asked future-Severus.

Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor’s baton.

At this, Severus paled. That was Dumbledore’s wand. Why did Voldemort have his wand? He surely wasn’t dead? And why was Voldemort even here? Had he found a way to come back? What had happened?

“Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?” inquired Voldemort.

“My… my lord?” said future-Severus blankly. “I don’t understand. You… you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand.”

“No,” said Voldemort. “I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago.”

Voldemort’s tone was musing and calm, but Severus had been a spy in the Dark Lord’s ranks for long enough to sense the fury building inside of his former master. He didn’t understand what was going on, but something had angered Voldemort.

At this, Severus thought it best just to listen.

“No difference,” said Voldemort again.

Future-Severus didn’t speak.

Voldemort started to move around the room. “I have thought long and hard, Severus… do you know why I have called you back from battle?” he prodded.

“No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter,” replied future-Severus.

Severus instantly knew that his other self had lied, but why? What was so important about Potter at this very minute? Severus could see that he needed to speak to Potter or give him something, perhaps, but what exactly? What was so important that he needed to contact Potter right then and there?

He was completely confused.

“You sound just like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come,” said Voldemort.

“But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by someone other than yourself…,” reasoned future-Severus.

“My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends –the more, the better – but do not kill him. Besides, it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable,” stated Voldemort.

“My Lord knows, I seek only to serve him. But… let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can….”

“I have told you, no!” said Voldemort, and Severus caught the glint of red in his eyes as he turned again; the swishing of his cloak was like the slithering of a snake. “My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!”

“My Lord, there can be no question, surely…?”

“But there is a question, Severus. There is,” stated Voldemort.

Voldemort halted, and Severus could see him slide the Elder Wand through his white fingers.

“Why did both of the wands that I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?” inquired Voldemort.

“I… I cannot answer that, my Lord,” replied future-Severus, face paling.

Again, Severus could see that his counterpart was lying. But why?

“Can’t you?” accused Voldemort. “My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus. Everything except kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me, under torture, of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’ wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.”

“I… I have no explanation, my Lord,” future-Severus stammered.

Neither Severus was looking at Voldemort now. Their dark eyes were fixed upon the coiling serpent writhing within its protective sphere.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore,” said Voldemort.

And now Severus looked from Voldemort to his counterpart. His counterpart’s face was like a death mask – marble-white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone still lived behind those blank eyes.

“My Lord… let me go to the boy…,” pleaded future-Severus.

“All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here wondering,” said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…. and I think, at last, I have the answer.”

Again, future-Severus did not speak.

“Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen next,” said Voldemort.

“My Lord…?” said future-Severus, trying to keep his composure.

“The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner,” said Voldemort. “You killed Albus Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.”

Watching, Severus cried out, “No! He can’t be dead! Why would I kill him?! He’s the only person who cares about me! He’s a mentor to me!”

“My Lord!” protested future-Severus, raising his wand.

“It cannot be any other way,” said Voldemort. “I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter, at last.”

Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to future-Severus, who for a split second hoped that he might have been reprieved, but then Voldemort’s intention became clear. The snake’s cage was rolling through the air and, before future-Severus could do anything more than yell, it had encased him; head and shoulders.

“Kill,” Voldemort ordered the snake in Parseltongue.

Both Severus and his counterpart screamed as he was attacked, his face losing the little colour that it had left. It whitened as his black eyes widened – as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.

“I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly.

As Voldemort turned away, there was no sadness in him – no remorse. It was time to leave this shack and take charge, with a wand that would now do his full bidding.

He pointed it at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upward, releasing its victim, who fell sideways onto the floor, blood gushing from the twin wounds in his neck. Voldemort swept from the room without a backward glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere.

Severus was shocked to see Harry Potter suddenly appear on the scene. Having taken off his invisibility cloak, he looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry’s as he tried to speak. Harry bent over him, and Severus’s future-self seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.

A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from his future-self’s throat as he tried to speak. “Take… it…Take…it…,” he pleaded.

Something more than blood was leaking from him. Silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, it gushed from his mouth, ears, and eyes, and Harry seemed to recognize it, but did not know what to do.

A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hand by Hermione Granger.

“Why am I giving him memories?” Severus said aloud, but he received no answer.

Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask was full to the brim and future-Severus looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry’s robes slackened.

“Look… at… me…,” whispered future Severus.

Green eyes met black.

“Lily’s eyes,” thought Severus to himself. They were not filled with hatred but with compassion.

Harry seemed utterly shocked by the request, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and future-Severus moved no more.

Suddenly the scene changed again, and they were outdoors in the snow.

“Are these things that will happen or might happen?” Severus asked when he managed to find his voice again.

The spirit just shrugged and looked around, but gave no answer except for pointing towards a grave behind him.

Severus turned to the neglected and unattended grave. As he leaned down and wiped away some of the snow, he could hear the church bells chiming.

Severus Snape

Born: 9 January 1960

Died: 2 May 1998

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He was only thirty-eight.

“No! I didn’t want to die like this! I can change! I can change!” he cried.

Realizing with horror that he was now inside of the casket, his screams grew more desperate, “I can change! I can change! I can change!”

Severus continued yelling until, finally, he realised that he was back in his bed – wooden coffin walls replaced by stone.

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