Chapter 88: To Invoke the Impossible

Lily awoke to Albus Dumbledore looming over her, his wand scanning across her, his expression grim.

She was briefly confused as to why the headmaster was there, only to recall the events of that morning. Lily sat up in bed, her movement catching Severus' attention. He stopped mid-pace in the lounge room, immediately flying to her side. "How are you feeling?" he asked calmly. And she might have believed it had she not just witnessed him pacing about like an anxious tiger.

"Much better, actually. You manage to cure me?" Lily said as she glanced down to assess the appropriateness of her dress. She hadn't managed to completely do up the lace of her robes before the rude interruption of her fainting spell, and it seemed Severus had had the foresight to finish lacing her up before guests arrived.

"You are not cured, Lily," came the damning prognosis from her husband's own lips. "This curse comes in waves. It has lulled in this moment, but it will resurge."

Lily felt her heart drop. Her eyes widened. "W-what have I been cursed with?"

A brief exchange had between her husband and the headmaster. "I… don't know," Sev uttered, his voice pitched low, brows furrowed with frustration.

Lily felt the bottom drop from her stomach. Fear gripped her from a place she hadn't known existed until that eve of Hallowe'en. "What do we do?"

Severus was the first to answer, "You do nothing, Lily. I will find those children. I will see to this undone."

"Do not be so hasty, Severus. This does not look like a curse that could be conjured by children," Albus cautioned.

"It does not look like one conjured by any dark wizard," Sev returned. "It is chaotic and ill-cast. It binds around you like it intends to devour you but seemed yet to physically harm you beyond your fainting spells. I have not seen anything like it. It's almost as if it is a spell in the midst of creation, one not fully realised and not ready to be cast."

"Or ever meant to be cast," Dumbledore observed, a grimness touching his calm. "This was a spell conceived to strike a Horcrux, not a living soul. Never intended to leave the form of the stone I enchanted."

The silence that answered was deafening. The realisation of what must have happened creeped upon Lily's mind, as too Severus', from the dread that touched his eyes. He slipped out the stone he kept hidden in his wand holster, his eyes seeming to harden to grim pits upon what he had seen.

"No…" The horror in his voice sent a shard of pure terror through Lily's heart.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Albus lamented, those blue eyes seeming to piece through her soul in a way that made her feel like hiding behind her Occlusion. "The spell I had been working towards was one designed to be able to destroy a Horcrux from within… It was never meant to touch a living soul."

"I don't want your apologies. I want you to fix it," Severus snapped, his fear turning to anger. "You created it, you fix it!"

"I would love to do nothing more," the headmaster agreed, but his grim expression dashed Lily's hope before his words did. "I will destroy all that we've created. That would eradicate the seat of this curse. Hopefully, that will be enough to end it."

"But. All our work," Lily uttered lamely, so ashamed that her impatience may be the cause of so much progress lost.

Albus' blue eyes met hers, not held by anger or disappointment. "Do not concern yourself about that, Lily.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to finish our work," Lily uttered quietly so ashamed of the catastrophe she caused. "We're going to lose so much progress because of me."

"Damn your progress!" Severus roared, startling Lily.

"So long as you live, there will be another chance." The headmaster left her with that sentiment, taking to his task with a quick stride.

So long as she lived…

Lily glanced back to her husband, who was sitting at the foot of their bed, eyes cast down as if lost in thought.

Lily stood from her bed and stepped over to his side, that one little motion almost setting the world swaying off kilter in her head. She looped her arms about him, holding him close as he stared despondently at one corner of the room. His one silver hand clenched hard as it rested upon his knee, giving the only indication of the spiralling of his state of mind.

The realisation of impending doom loomed like the reaper himself. A situation that had been entirely of her own hubris. Believing she could take upon herself the task of testing the enchantment without the guidance and oversight from the headmaster.

"I'm sorry, Sev," she whispered. This must be all his worst fears realised.

But she had repeated every step she would have under his guise. Using the same wards, the same spells of detection, striking the stones against the blade in the same way. She did not remember feeling any flux of her wards to indicate anything amiss.

No, it wasn't then when the curse took hold.

Eyes wide, Lily realise what was different. The last stone she had brought from the box, the last stone she had intended to test, the stone that she could not find. She had it held within her left hand. That was her last memory of it. But then she put it down. She had done so to free her hands to lift the blade.

That was when realisation came to her.

"I had it in my pocket," Lily gasped. "The stone that cursed me had been in my pocket."

Severus swivelled about, his dark eyes finally meeting hers. "Where is it now?"

"I don't know," Lily whispered in mounting horror. "It didn't respond to my summons… and I was sure I checked my pockets before I put my robes in the hamper last night." And even if she hadn't, the house elves would have picked the stone out and left it on her bedside table for her to find in the morning.

She was sure she didn't take it from her pocket. Did she? Perhaps it fell from her pocket when she collapsed. If so, then she would have seen it when the headmaster scourged the mess from his office. It couldn't have just walked off and disappeared, and even if it had the Summoning Charm would have brought it right back.

It could have been taken.

Lily's eyes grew round. "They have it," she breathed, realisation lancing through her.

"Who?" Severus asked intently, his panic seeping through his mask of calm.

"The two students. I don't know who they are, but they must have it. Phineas Black saw them before they got covered. He'd be able to tell you. If he knew their name. The portrait, I mean, not the actual Professor." Not that she thought Severus could mistakenly think that she spoke to the actual incarnation of a man long since deceased. But then again, given how things had turned out with Severus, it honestly wouldn't surprise Lily to meet a dead headmaster. It certainly wouldn't be the first time…

But wait, there was a better way. "Read my mind, Sev. You'll recognise them, I know it."

Severus had always been reluctant to step over the boundaries of her mind. And for that she had been mostly grateful. This time he was no longer so coy. His He turned his eyes upon hers. "Show them to me."

A sharp jab resounded within her mind, his mind reaching in suddenly, causing her to reflexively occlude. Lily screwed close her eyes for a moment, willing herself to unlearn all that she was taught. She felt his mind reach through hers, grasping greedily for the image Lily brought to recall. The moment she found herself defending against the two students who dared trespass and raise their wands against her.

And just as suddenly, his presence withdrew. Severus' mind slipped from within Lily's own as he untangled from her embrace. He stepped towards the door before quickly turning straight back, seeming torn.

"Don't you start pacing again," Lily warned, though mostly in jest. Mostly.

"I must find these students," Severus said, not even humouring her joke. "I'll find them and then I'll come back." But even as he said those words, he made no move to leave, seeming anchored by a decision he had not yet made. Or was unable to make.

"But you don't want to leave my side," Lily confirmed. She didn't need to ask. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he must be thinking. He feared her death more than he feared his own.

Without a word, or her wand, Lily summoned a book from the shelf. "Do what you have to do, Severus. I'll just be catching up on my reading." She pulled herself back into the covers, not even caring that she was snuggling down fully dressed. She wasn't going to show him how terrified she was, helped along by the fact her shame was just too overwhelming to really showcase anything else.

Severus still hesitated, standing in place like a flummoxed fool. Like a man far less decisive than she knew him to be. Finally, he stepped forward to her side, leant down, and pressed his lips to her forehead; a tender kiss to let her know he was there. Then, he turned to leave through the trick wall to his office, his black cloak sweeping over his shoulders as he stepped out of sight.

Before the draw of sleep began to beckon her once more.

Carrows.

The twin thorns in his side. Snape could not forget their faces even if he tried.

Amycus and Alecto Carrow were twins in fifth year. Slytherins, naturally. Still children in this lifetime, yet they had their boots planted firmly against the reforms Snape had made. Rather too overtly to be in good Slytherin taste.

In his past lifetime, the two had been the two Death Eater enforcers assigned to Hogwarts. It was a fine line to walk, balancing the twin's bloodlust with his promise to Dumbledore - protecting the children while maintaining his charade. Though the Carrows had been placed under Snape's command, it was never he that was truly in charge.

"Cruciatus has been legalised by the grace of our Dark Lord. Why not celebrate?" Amycus had once suggested upon Filch's capture of a student out after dark.

It was only by his wiles that Snape had convinced the foul man otherwise. A year had been spent protecting the students from the twins as much as the dangers of the world outside. Each time playing the game, dressing his actions in a charade palatable to the psychopaths that served the Dark Lord.

It did not surprise him in the least when he saw their faces through Lily's memories. That they pointed their wands towards his wife. That they had the gall to attack her. It took all of his rationality to remind himself that they were yet children. That Mulciber had done the same at their age. That his own path had weathered closely.

"Devious Cunning," Snape announced to the stretch of wall that had been his haunting ground for the past two years and his responsibility for far more. The stone wall shifted upon the delivered password, granting him access to the common room.

Snape's visits to the common room had been less frequent of late. Though his responsibilities included attending the common room from time to time to dispense with one issue or another, a new status quo had established itself. After a certain point, it became more beneficial to take a step back and leave the student politics to run its course.

Pureblood ideologies had been pushed into the unpleasant fringes of the House psyche, but lurked there they still did. The Carrows were exemplars of it, as once had been Regulus Black, and Mulciber, and Severus Snape himself. A heavy reminder that he, for the moment, could not muster the optimism to value.

It was difficult to marry ideals to the reality that his wife's life may literally be in the hands of one of these children.

"Severus, it's good to see you again." Prefect Rawkas strode over from his armchair by the fire. He was one of many student that never made the bridging leap of regarding Snape as a teacher rather than a fellow student.

"It is Professor Snape," Snape reminded him firmly. It took another a newly lived lifetime to learn to treat this slip of the tongue not as an intended sign of disrespect, but as a familiarity once earned that needed to be guided to course.

Rawkas grinned, not taking his chastisement too seriously. "Right, Professor Snape. What brings you to our common room today?" Rawkas asked.

"I am here to speak to both Mr Carrow and Ms Carrow," Snape announced, drawing the eyes of all that occupied the lounge. A post-breakfast crowd driven inside by the Scottish cold. The students, were at least spending their times constructively. He spotted textbooks piled high beside nearly every armchair, painting the focus of the house rather favourably to Snape's eyes.

Divisions were still starkly visible between ideologies with clusters of known Death Eaters choosing to subside in the fringes of the room. Dark looks were thrown Snape's way at his entrance, an animosity from his students that he never had to deal with as a professor. In recent days, he was getting used to a lot of things he never had to deal with as a professor.

Among those in the fringes, Snape spotted Regulus Black, staring out the window to the darkened aquamarine of the frozen lake. Since the young man's turn from the darkness, he and his professor had not exchanged a word in public beyond what was needed to maintain a student-teacher relationship. Nor did he stray from the company he had once kept. He had enough sense to know nothing must change in his dynamics with those that still clung to the old ways, for his circumstance was different to those who chose to leave. The mark upon his arm ensured he would not be lightly forgiven.

Lincon Rawkas lead Snape's reforms now, wielding the powers granted through his student leader position to fortify his position where his weak politics lacked. Though technically outranked by Regulus as a prefect by means of seniority, there were little question as to who had better standing among their multi-house student-leader peers.

But it was the fact that Rawkas had indeed served as one of Snape's peers that more often than not, he slipped and spoke to the professor as if he were still that Head Boy. "Did something happen?" he asked in a rather chipper tone. As if he expected Snape to have come bearing gossip.

Snape spoke firmly, suppressing the bristle that threatened to crest his voice. "That is between myself and both Mr Carrow and Ms Carrow."

However successful Snape had been with his tone of voice, Rawkas did not try to pry any further. "I haven't seen either of them today. Not even at breakfast."

Snape frowned, worry prickling upon his brow. "Please check upstairs in the dorms for me."

"Sure. No worries," Rawkas said as he turned to do as he was bade, but paused right on the first steps down. "But umm, I can't go into the girl's dorm."

Snape called over the prefect Priya Sai from the cluster of girls she sat with. They had been sitting in a small circle giggling inanely. That meant nothing constructive was being disrupted.

"Ms Sai. I require you to fetch Ms Carrow for me - I need to speak to her."

"I haven't seen her," Sai quickly offered, a worrying pattern to this ordeal.

"Then please check the dormitory for me," Snape requested. But rather than do what she was told, Sai hesitated, her expression marked with a guilty grimace.

"Umm… she wasn't there when I woke up this morning," Sai uttered, unable to meet Snape's eyes.

Snape glared, his senses fine-tuned to decades of practice in detecting rule breaking. "Did you see where she went?"

"She didn't come to bed. She was out breaking curfew." Sai gave up the ghost in a quick tumble of words. "I don't know where she had been all night."

"And as a prefect, you didn't report it?" Snape concluded, allowing the disappointment to colour his words.

Sai hung her head, an appropriate picture of chastisement. "I'm sorry I didn't… I just didn't think… She's never given me trouble so…" She trailed off, likely realising exactly how hollow her excuses fell upon her utterance. "Will I be punished?" she asked in a small voice, fearing the worst. And ordinarily, Snape took the shirking of duty with the gravity it deserved, be it from within his house or without. But this was not a day Snape could spare thought to anything other than his pressing task at hand.

"Ms Sai. I am disappointed. I have expressed my disappointment. If I require any more than that for you to correct your conduct then I will be far more disappointed. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," she answered in a small voice.

Rawkas, too, returned with bad news. "Amycus isn't in bed. In fact, I don't think his bed's been laid in. He must have broken curfew. I can't believe I didn't catch him on patrol last night." A far easier failure to perceive, for this castle held too many nooks and crannies for someone who didn't want to be found. A concerning thought for Snape, for he was fighting against the grain of time as it was.

"As soon as any one of you know where either of the Carrows are, I expect to be contacted," Snape impressed upon the two student body leaders.

"I came the moment you called," Potter uttered as he stepped into Snape's living quarters, without knocking one might add, but in light of circumstances, Snape felt inclined to forgive.

McKinnon, too stepped through the door, uninvited. Snape honestly was not surprised to see that she would be so incensed to invite herself onto the school grounds without the headmaster's expressed permission. Given the circumstances, Snape imagined Dumbledore would also be of a mind to forgive.

Marlene stepped straight through to the bedroom without so much as a how-do-you-do to Snape, ready to take position at Lily's bedside. Lily, for the moment, was sitting upright in bed, having woken minutes prior and, for the most part, seeming far haler.

"Hey, Marlene. I didn't expect you to come," Lily said as she pulled her friend into an embrace.

"Merlin's beard, Lil's. The way Severus described it through his ridiculous deer Patronus, I thought you were dying," she returned, relief evident in her voice.

Snape turned away, unwilling to voice the fears invoked by what he saw. When he held that stone, he was struck by a cold shard of fear deep within his heart.

The wait for Potter to arrive had been torturous.

He had never known a conjured hand could shake, but it was all that he could do to clench the stone and hold it firm. That bright spark seated within her, the soul by any other name, was no longer firmly tethered to her core. Strands of silvery light spilled from her form as if unravelling, unspooling from her light. Untethering her soul from her form.

The curse was severing her anchor to mortality.

The curse took hold in waves. Her waves of exhaustion came when the strands of shining light appeared to pull taut. An unseen force pulled against them as if pulling the spark from within her, and she would fall unconscious whenever it was pulled from her body. She could not be roused in this state, her breathing turned shallow, and a deathly pale alit upon her sleeping visage.

But then it would stop: the silvery strands would slacken and slowly began to spool back into her. It took around a minute for that light to reseat, and each time it took that little bit longer. The frayed threads that held her soul that little fewer.

Eventually there would be no threads left, and what would happen then, Snape could not bring himself to think on.

"Did you bring it?" Snape asked Potter urgently, willing himself to cast the terrible fears from his mind.

Potter, it seemed, had not fared half as well through his night of reckless drinking and debauchery. Bleary-eyed, he could barely stand upright. Snape was almost relieved when the man produced that piece of tatty parchment from his robes, fearing he might have forgotten it in the state he was in.

"You gotta hold your wand up to it and say, 'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good,'" he muttered with a pained wince, evidently still affected.

Snape did as he was bid, pointing his wand to the map and uttering the password invented to convey Gryffindor rebellion. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good."

Mr Mooney sincerely believes the claims of this long-nosed dark wizard but politely declines any opportunity to aid his foul doings.

Mr Padfoot would like to add that he thinks he is a slimy git.

Potter winced. "Ah, I forgot about that. Here, I'll reveal it for you." He snatched the map from Snape's hands before Mr Prongs and Mr Wormtail could add their two Knuts.

Snape scowled deeply as he watched Potter restore the map, rather annoyed by that rude reminder of their history.

"We added extra countermeasures against you when we created it. We were in a different place when we created it," Potter explained sheepishly as he handed the parchment back to Snape. This time, it was fully inked as a near-perfect cartography of the castle if viewed top down and magically dissected by layers. The people who moved about these magical halls were inscribed within, their movements tracked by incredible magical means. Secret passages lined the map with detailed notes of where the passages began and the passwords that protected them. Even for a professor that had spent the better part of two decades teaching at this castle, and seven more as a student, there were secrets printed upon that map that he knew nothing of.

The map was an incredible feat of creative achievement, Snape could grudgingly admit. It was a magical tapestry meticulously weaved to incredible magic and effect. Enchantments were not easy to invent and harder still to express the intentions behind the creations, as was evident with these ill-fated experiments.

Had Snape known in the previous life what this map had been, he might have intentionally targeted it. As it were, he likely caused by serendipitous accident its loss to the confiscation of Filch. In sixth-year during his first time through life, Snape had framed the Marauders for stealing from the caretaker's stores. The result had been that the Marauders had every single item upon their person, barring their wands, robes, and Potter's glasses taken from them.

But those middling thoughts were far from the fore of Snape's mind. He scoured the parchment, unfurling as he scanned, willing the fates to draw his eyes quickly to those needed names. Where clusters of children existed, their names appeared visibly muddled in the mass of writing inked dots and writing.

Frustration mounted as Snape scanned the parchment, seeing no telling name among those individual dots and unable to untangle the mess of names in the crowded corners.

"Is there a way to efficiently find a name hidden among your scrawl?" Snape asked, his frustration mounting to near equalling his fear.

"Uhh, no," Potter answered. "It didn't occur to us how hard it would be to find a person when we made it. But. I mean, it'd be hardly sporting, right?"

"Yet I find it very easy to believe that had you thought to do so, I would not have had the pleasure of being spared by considerations of how sporting it would be," Snape muttered under his breath as he squinted at a cluster of names huddled together in a secret passage. Armed with this map and the invisibility cloak, it was a wonder that Snape stood a chance at all.

He glance happened upon the names of two students hovering in what should have been a private and secret alcove, trying not to pause on the implications of privacy within castle ground. Even the bathroom space and dormitories of each respective house's common room had been mapped. He could even see the outline of his own office upon the map, but thankfully the private quarters had been omitted, rendering some small measure of privacy.

As Snape's eyes passed over his office, he noticed a figure approaching on the map. 'Regulus Black,' the writing claimed, his ink blot stopping outside his office door. Snape flicked his wand, opening the office door remotely without waiting for the summoning knocks upon them.

"Find me the Carrows," Snape demanded as he pressed the map into the flagging Potter's hands. "First names Amycus and Alecto." He then stepped out through to his office.

Black stood before Snape's desk, not so presumptuous as to take a seat without invitation. Snape stepped through and greeted him before taking his seat and gesturing for the young Black to do the same. "Mr Black. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Though very little of his mind could be spared for thoughts of anything else other than the task at hand, he knew better than to ignore a visitor. They might come bearing news he sought to find.

And it was rewarding to be proven correct. "Professor. You came asking for the Carrow twins this morning, did you not?"

"I have," Snape confirmed.

"I don't know where they are, but I know where they're likely to be," Black offered. "I know you asked me not to spy, but-"

"This is the one exception. Any insight would be invaluable," Snape quickly assured.

Black nodded, looking determined. "We, as in the Dark Lord's supporters who have access to Hogwarts, had all been given a task around the beginning of this year. Scour the Room of Requirements for any relics that could be constituted as a Founder's heirloom. He believed the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was hidden among the objects within. I don't think any of us counted on how much of a task that would be. The fact that everything inside is warded against any magical means to move it meant we had to sort by hand."

Snape almost frowned at that, feeling trepidation to what that meant. The Dark Lord was attempting to retrieve his Horcrux hidden in this school, the hardest one for himself to access. There was no reason to believe he hadn't already done the same for the other pieces only to find them there no longer.

Another worry for when he had the mind to.

"And yesterday, it became known throughout the country that the Sword of Gryffindor was within the possession of Albus Dumbledore," Regulus Black continued. "Amycus had come to me later that night with a proposal to infiltrate the headmaster's office in search for that sword. He wanted me to give him the password." That went a long way to explaining how the two Carrows gained access to the office in the first place. "This is why I believe that they are hidden either in or somewhere close to Dumbledore's office, or perhaps the Room of Requirements. Among the hidden things."

"Both are valuable suggestions. Thank you," Snape said, his tone in that of dismissal.

Black made to stand, suddenly hesitant. "Professor. Did they do something terrible when they were there?"

Snape, too, stood, ready to make good on what he had learned. Though he was grateful for the young defector's assistance, he did not appreciate any further irrelevant conversation. He found his patience worn in the midst of this crisis. "That does not concern you, Mr Black," Snape replied none too gently.

The young prefect took his cue and stood to leave, but before he could reach the door, the wall to Snape's quarters slid open. Potter stumbled out, his panic vying with his hungover state. "Severus! The curse! Lily's unconscious"

That was nothing out of the ordinary with the progression of her symptoms, never the less, Snape leapt to and strode to her side. Marlene leant over her, trying to jostle her awake with her ham-fisted ways. "C'mon Lil's. Wake up! Fight this curse!"

Snape stepped up to the base of her bed, bringing out the crystal to assess and reassure himself that he still had time. He still had time…

The strands that held that light stranded from her corporeal form culled before his eyes. The time he had trickled away with every strand that gave and frayed.

As he stepped through to his office again, he saw that Regulus Black was still there, standing as still as a deer in headlights, his quick mind likely connecting Snape's frantic search to the affair within.

Though Snape could not purport to know Black, he knew that the young man had heart enough to care for that wretched house elf. That he might feel a sliver of guilt for the matter he aided by a small act.

"Mr Black, a request, if I may. I wish to borrow your house elf to deliver a message. Additionally, if you could write that message, I would be grateful."

For a passage so close to the entranceway to Gryffindor tower, the silence of the seventh floor corridor felt ominous. The morning's cold likely kept them penned inside. Winter was long in the Scottish countryside. Though they reached the end months of winter, the chill seemed ever reluctant to abate. Alternatively, it may have simply been the wrong side of noon for the lazy lions to stir.

The stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy stood silent and unchanged before Snape, even as he approached and impressed upon it the room he sought to find. That the wall remained static confirmed to him that there were souls within.

He could not know for sure that the ones inside were the Carrow twins. There was no discernible indicator of who was inside the secret room, of whether Snape was on the right track at all. The time wasted compounded Snape's panic upon his already grievous fears. His world crumbling with the threads that held her soul.

He fought through the cloud of panic that threatened to veil his mind, willing himself to discern a solution rather than spiral. Hope was a terrible thing to have, for its loss brought the blackest of despair, dulling his sharp mind. Snape placed a hand upon the wall and pressing the swirling darkness to the back of his mind as only a skilled Occlumens could.

Having had worked closely with the Carrow twins, Snape had a measure of the two. Amycus was the younger of the pair, cowardly and timid, one too cautious to respond without thought. His cruelty was ever directed against those who could not fight back. The elder sister, Alecto, however, was far the smarter of the two but headstrong to a fault. She liked being in control, almost as much as she liked to inflict pain. Her control over her brother was most telling, dressed up in the veil of protectiveness.

This weakness was what Snape sought to exploit. May his hunch be right and the children be hidden in this corner of the castle. Snape gathered himself, producing the scroll from within the folds of his robes.

Alecto. The headmaster requests your brother's attendance about the matter of last night. You know how he is, he'll crack and dob us in. Attend the common room immediately so we may discuss an alibi.

A touch of treachery within the house that demanded attention and control to settle, seemingly from the mouth of one who's reason for knowing would be unquestioned prefect. A sliver of purported justice they truthfully deserved, a lie to be believed by the guilty of heart. This was a lie expertly tailored as bait directed to their conditions.

"Kreacher," Snape called into the aethers. The crack of a materialising elf answered.

"Master Regulus has told Kreacher he must do what Mr Snape wants him to. What does Kreacher need to do for Mr Snape?" the crotchety House Elf asked.

"Deliver this for me to Alecto. Just hand it to her and say nothing and do nothing more than that," Snape instructed, knowing how slippery the elf could be with the loopholes of an ill-crafted order.

The elf scowled and snapped away, leaving Snape in the frozen silence.

The elves had a special privilege when it came to travelling through the wizarding world. Though he had never seen an elf enter the mercurial chamber when he had occupied it, he believed, or at least guessed, that they would not be denied entrance. Many forms of magic were designed to keep another witch or wizard out, but rarely was one devised to do the same for house elves.

He slunk against the wall, back pressed against the freezing stone. He closed his eyes and waited, straining his ears against the howling wind. All he could do was wait now, willing his plan to work. Hoping that he would be in time.

What felt like an age had passed when Snape felt the stones of the wall shift beneath his fingers. He glanced sidelong to see the door materialising. He pulled himself flat against the stones, hardly breathing as the door edged open.

Hope reignited itself as Alecto Carrow emerged, stepping just far enough to clear the doorframe and turn, her eyes widening upon sight of him.

Snape moved to strike like a viper, reaching his hand into the gap before the door could be slammed shut, his silver hand bearing the blow. With that same movement, Snape flung open the door and strode in after the retreating girl, catching her with an Impediment Jinx.

Alecto Carrow slowed to a stop, her lower half seemed glued to the floor. She drew her wand, barely able to gather her wits before Snape snatched it from her hands and leaving her helpless without.

This was the room of hidden things, just as Black had said it would be. The towering monuments of ancient knickknacks and lost things that loomed from the cavernous darkness. A room that had, once upon a time, housed a relic of immense malice. The same relic that the dark lord had sent the Slytherin children to scour for, not realising its detection and destruction.

Striding to the front of the immobilised student, Snape held her eyes with his. Uttering not a word, Snape pressed his mind into hers, pushing past that flimsy fog she might have called Occlumency.

He found the memory of the stone, the moment it came into her hands. He saw her pick it from the floor where Lily laid and felt disgusted to witness her callous disregard for his wife. He witnessed the siblings fiddle with the stone, testing its purpose and creation, so close to doing harm to themselves by their reckless curiosity. That stone then changed hands, finding itself in the pocket of Amycus as he picked through the refuse heap of this cavernous room, before she left his side to answer the missive from the elf.

Snape withdrew the black stone from within his wrist holster, scanning the room as it grew monochrome. He picked out the bright sparks of the soul within the cluttered darkness, drawing further and further away from where the young Professor stood.

"Call your brother back," Snape snarled to the immobilised girl.

Her shock slowly abated as a sneer took upon her features. "Or what, Professor? Are you going to hex me?"

He felt tempted, his panic rising with every moment of inaction. The brother had a head start on Snape. He had no chance of catching up on foot, especially picking his way through this maze of junk. He had considered implementing his power of flight to swoop over the refuse upon the unsuspecting boy but wisdom cautioned his actions. There were great towers of the refuse that reached into the ceiling and not immediately visible within the gloom of the chamber. The speed of flight may allow Snape to take level with boy but the risk posed to himself and what his incapacitation meant for Lily's sake was unacceptable.

He turned to Alecto, his fear turning to rage. His vitriol must have bled into his expression, for fear touched hers. The thought had touched Snape's mind. The tools of a dark wizard was no stranger to him. The tools to compel her to scream for her brother. All it would cost him would be a part of his soul. A part that he had willingly gave once already when he chose to wield the same such spells. And ultimately, that was a trade he would no longer willingly make if he did not know for certain it would welcome the outcome he wished for. Not when Amycus Carrow was a barefaced coward as an adult, he deeply doubted such a one would risk himself for his sister.

He was running out of time. He needed the boy to come to him. Fear was a good motivator for a coward such as Amycus Carrow.

"I will make you a deal, Amycus!" Snape called into the darkness. "I will not turn you or your sister over to the headmaster for what you have done. All I ask is that you return what you took."

It was a generous offer to say the least, considering all that they had wrought. An offer at least considered by the Carrow brother for his spot of light paused a moment, no longer picking his path deeper into the darkness.

A scoff sounded behind Snape. "That rock seems like it's rather valuable considering all the trouble you're going to to get it." The Carrow sister, it seemed, was not so easily won over. "Make us a better offer."

"It is not so much valuable as it is dangerous. It is your lives I fear for," Snape returned, not even needing to stretch the truth all that far.

Alecto Carrow, however, did not bite. "Try again, Professor. If you want it, then make us a better offer!"

Snape fought the curl of his lips. He was to be outplayed by children. Though he could pause and refine his bargaining, his patience strained with the tickle of valuable time. No, he chose to end the bargaining before it even began. "Then I add to the offer of immunity for your actions, that Sword you had sought to begin with."

Carrow's eyes grew wide, appropriately shocked.

"Do we have a deal?" Snape pushed. There wasn't any time for the child to naturally work through her surprise.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" Carrow asked quite reasonably, once she managed to rehinge her jaws.

Snape did not need any further prompting. "I will swear by an Unbreakable Vow."

This spell was the ultimate form of contract between two parties. One designed with life as collateral. Though unlike most practiced forms of contract law, magical or otherwise, this spell did not care for whether the contract was fair or that one party did not benefit in the least from the bargain struck. It cared only that each party carries out their claim, the keep the word of the promises made.

By the eyebrows dancing upon the edge of Carrow's scalm, the significance was not lost on her.

With a flick of his wand, Snape dispelled the magic that held Carrow's legs. He held out his silvered hand, inviting Carrow to do the same. At the age of fifteen, she stood barely half a head shorter than Snape. She would never grow much taller than she was now. She reached out slowly to take Snape's offered palm, her own brows knitted in uncertainty.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Now you call for your brother," Snape instructed. "Call for him to bind this vow." A witness would always be necessary for a contract's signage. In this, magic mirrored life.

Alecto Carrow did as she was bade, calling Amycus forth from the pillars of junk. "Don't you dare attack him now, or he'll turn and throw that stone and you'll never have it back."

Snape would be lying if the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He would subdue him quite easily too, and with relatively low risk. But risk there was, and when it came to Lily's life Snape was ill-inclined to take any.

And if he be all honest, that trade was more to his favour than the twins had realised.

"Will you, Snape, give me the Sword of Gryffindor?" the sister began as her brother took his place beside her, his wand pointed towards the two clasped hands.

Snape's eyes held firm to hers. "I will, if you in turn will immediately return the stone that you took." A strand of fiery light emerged from Amycus Carrow's wand, entwining Snape's hand to the second Alecto Carrow.

"I will," the sister confirmed, causing a second strand of fiery light to loop about their hands.

When the magic abated, Snape held out that same hand. "Now, the stone."

Amycus Carrow did not hesitate. He fished it from his pocket and placed it within Snape's palm.

The smooth stone, no grander than a pebble. So misleadingly innocent in appearance, yet so deadly a creation. Without hesitation, Snape proceeded to run his wand over the artefact, unravelling the magic bound to it, taking it apart by its ethereal trappings before reducing too its physical vessel to dust within his palm.

The most exhausting thing about this whole situation, apart from literal exhaustion, was the idea of spending all day in bed while everyone fussed around her. Marlene had been glued to Lily's bedside it seemed, for she hadn't seemed to move once since Lily's awakened, or really the various naps and waking she cycled through. James too, took to sitting by his wife, his expression taking on that of evident worry after he had worked through his own demons by a Sobering-Up Potion Lily kept in the medicine cabinet.

For a curse, it was nothing really painful. Apart from the whole 'soul being torn from her body' thing, she would have discounted the whole ordeal as simply somewhat annoying.

"Come on, stop that," Lily muttered as she blinked awake once again to find Marlene's wand hovering over her.

Her best friend withdrew as she was bade but still held her wand firm. "I was gonna cast a Life-Support spell if things got a bit dicey. Old Ralph Hodgins taught us a few tricks from his trauma medic days to keep us alive in a pinch."

Her optimism was lovely, really, but somehow Lily didn't think a spell designed to keep a badly injured body together could also fix an untethering soul. Lily was all too aware that she might be dying, even if she didn't feel it. The fear she felt seemed surreal. Like the sensation of impending doom looming over her head. Whether that was the advent of the curse itself or the knowledge itself she could not say, but she knew what it meant for her and those she held dear.

Marlene was putting on a brave face. Perhaps fooling herself into believing she could somehow stop the curse from running its course. James was stoic, taking to sitting in the corner of the room, scanning his map furiously, flicking from the second floor to the seventh in quick procession.

War had dampened their spirits. Where once Lily had expected from them a stream of reassurance and plucky gusto, all she received now was a cynical pragmatism that she was unused to from anyone else other than Severus.

War changed people profoundly, that much she had learned since learning the truth about her husband. A notion she knew to be inevitable but was heartbreaking to see in motion.

She, too, had been changed by the experience, for she found herself counting away her minutes, taking measure of how long she stayed awake and measured it against her lapses. It was not heartening to find that time began tipping in favour of the blackouts.

To feel death lurking in the darkness that awaited her in cursed sleep.

"How have you and James been," Lily asked, desperate for something to take her mind off the morbid thoughts that came with the waking moments.

"Eh, can't complain," Marlene expressed with a shrug. "Godric's Hollow's a bit boring, but. Pretty, but boring. Even the bar's poor on stock. They don't have anything stronger than the piss-for-whisky of the south. Not even some of the good Irish stuff."

"Boring's good," James interjected, glancing up from his map. "We lead plenty exciting lives already. My home is the last place I want to invite it all."

Marlene scoffed. "Right. You spend eighty-percent of your day at Hogwarts teaching. I would hardly call that exciting."

"Have you already forgotten the dragon?" James asked, his tone jovial despite how very nearly deadly that particular incident turned.

"Props for that, Jamie-boy," Marlene conceded. "You sure know how to make a girl feel like she's not married to a boring ol' Professor."

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Lily interjected lightly.

Marlene grinned with a roll of her eyes. "Don't kid yourself, Lil's. You're not exactly married to a boring ol' Professor either. Snape can't go a week without popping into the Prophet, whether there's actual news or some smarmy gossip. I swear Susan's milkin' her closeness with you for her columns. Doesn't help that she's also got one of Snape's friends on side."

"Oh Merlin," Lily muttered, her imagination running wild with what could possibly be immortalised in print under the quill of that unrepentant gossip. "Do I even want to know?"

"Don't you keep up with the news much anymore?" Marlene asked in a joking tone.

"I'd hardly call the Prophet 'news'" Lily returned. Not that she read the Wizarding World News either. If she was honest, she had been out of the loop in recent days.

As depressing the recent nature of the wizarding world was, it was the sudden shift in responsibilities that seized the majority of Lily's time and attention. How Severus managed his equally - if not greater - responsibilities and still have time to keep up with global events was honestly baffling. In fact, she would go so far as to say that was his single most miraculous wielding of time. Reliving your life was one thing, but generating seconds out of nowhere was a feat to behold.

Marlene couldn't help but grin, seeming to find the funny in the whole matter. "Honestly, Sevy's been ending up in the papers so often I sometimes forget I went to school with him. Doesn't' help that the way the papers describe him, you'd think he's some sort of second-coming of Dumbles. If Jamie-boy here ended up in the papers once, you'd bet we're keeping the clipping."

"I have yesterday's front page of the Prophet Extra right here," James interjected, proudly producing a carefully excised article with the words 'THE LEGENDARY SWORD DEFENCE! HOGWARTS YOUNGEST PROFESSOR AND COMPANY CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES.'

"Where are you mentioned?" Lily asked as her eyes were drawn to the photo splashed across the face of the piece, framing her Severus front and centre, emerging from the courtroom doors and scowling as he shirked away from the incessant flashing of cameras around him.

"Ah, well. I was only really mentioned as 'company," James offered sheepishly. "But look, I made it into the photo."

He pointed to the far left corner of the shot, straining over the ruby handle of the sword held by Albus Dumbledore in the foreground that partially obscured him.

Lily had to giggle. James loved the limelight almost as much as Sev hated it. "I'll bet he would have preferred it if the roles were reversed," she offered the young man, remembering his predilection for the limelight.

"I think Jamie would have preferred it too," Marlene agreed.

James seemed to take some affront to that assessment. "I've done plenty, too. It's just my achievements are all on the down low, you know. You can't go around publishing secret missions."

Marlene grinned, turning to throw her support in with her husband, "Well, I believe in you, Jamie-boy. And when this whole sodding war's over you'll take the world by storm with me and Sirius on the Quidditch pitch, just as we always dreamt."

"Heh yeah, that was my dream, wasn't it?" James muttered, suddenly muted, his eyes taking on a faraway gaze that had nothing to do with his near-alcohol poisoning. Lily knew her brews too well to believe her potion hadn't taken the effect that it should.

"I'm so behind on practice, I doubt I can sink goals like I once could anymore," James muttered, but not to seem too humble he added, "Bet you I can still fly circles around anyone, though."

Dreams for the future. Such an innocent topic that Lily hadn't thought about in what felt like a lifetime ago, yet all these dreams she had once spoke of felt like a lifetime away. A lifetime in true for some.

It was at that moment that Lily felt the stifling blanket of exhaustion settle over her. Her distress rose with the sinking feeling of lulling into that unrelenting void of unconsciousness. It was not like sleep, not like the gentle fade into comforting rest. It was a dark yawning abyss, grasping her in its tendrils and dragging her down into its unrelenting depth.

Since becoming aware of what was happening, Lily would fight the sensation as it came and lose every time. Almost in reaction to her insurrection, the curse would no longer simply see her sleep. A chill would befall her as she was pulled under, a deathly frost from within her core that seemed to take hold of her from the inside like the start of the winter's storm that would howl against the ancient stones of the castle.

The harder she fought the draw of the void, the worse this chill would get. She could feel her body falling limp against her will, her breath drawing so slow and low such that she thought she might suffocate. That ever looming doom that sat quietly within her waking heart now crept out like the miasma of a Dementor, settling upon her like a shroud. A moment she had felt once before in childhood, waking from a deep slumber only to find her body refusing to obey. Sleep paralysis, her father had called it. But whereas she was able to wake from that childhood affliction, the curse left no such escape.

The fight was sapped from her as everything bled from her conscious, darkness her only companion. Then, just as quickly, she emerged again, her eyes popping open as she scrambled to sit up. Her heart sank as she noted the orange glow of twilight piercing the thick cloud cover and filtering through her window. She could not grasp how long she had been under for, but time had undoubtedly passed.

When Lily finally brought her eyes up from her watch face, she started, her eyes widened in surprise to find her husband sitting in the chair that her best friend had occupied what felt like just seconds ago. Marlene had shuffled down to the foot of the bed to give Severus some space.

"You're back," she breathed. "Did you find the stone?"

The silence that answered her caused her hope to wane. Severus could not meet her eyes, head bowed as if already in mourning. Her heart leapt to her throat, nerves jangling with the conclusions she had drawn, even before he finally met her eyes and confirmed her fears. "The curse has been lifted, but the damage has been done. I don't know how to fix it."

Lily's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She felt tears well up along with her fear. The same fear she had felt when she had first tasted her close brush with death. But she fought that all down when she reached out for her husband's hand, easing the black stone from his silver fingers.

"You tried your best," she reassured in a low breathy voice, feeling her voice hitch in her throat as it left her lips.

His black eyes were hollow, a mirror of the man she had glimpsed within the Pensieve. A man who fought his hardest to change the course of events. A man who fought and lost. Spirit broken upon the shards of his hope.

"That's bull! You can't just give up!" Marlene yelled as she stood from her seat, a frantic look in her eyes. "You can't! What's your Slytherin brains good for if you can't even figure out how to save her?"

James reached up to take hold of his wife's hand. "Come on," he urged gently as he stood. "Let's give them a moment."

Marlene made as if she were going to refuse, but just as suddenly her shoulders dropped as the flight fled her. She followed on meekly as James lead her from the room, trembling as if fighting the urge to cry. Lily could not remember the last time she saw Marlene cry. She was too tough for that. Too tough to show it…

But she remembered Severus' tears. Tears he had shed a lifetime ago for another life she had lead and lost. Tears again that she could no longer bring comfort to when she would pass again from his life.

He sat there now so broken a man, his dark eyes dropping once more. Even with his intellect, experience and raw determination he could not find a way to fix her. His hope bled from him in the face of the impossible. So starkly aware that he was facing again his worst fears made manifest, powerless to stop it.

"Sev," Lily whispered, taking his left hand within her own, holding it between her fingers such that their silver rings clinked atop one another. "Hey, look at me," she urged as she gently stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. He did as he was bid, his black eyes so blank and listless. "I'm still alive for now, Sev. We cherish the minutes we have."

His façade broke, tears welling up within his eyes as he gritted his crooked teeth. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I failed you. I failed!" His voice cracked upon its rise. "Why did I let this happen?"

"Hush. You did no such thing," Lily admonished, her heart breaking at the sight of her husband's tears. "You gave me a happy life. A bit shorter than I expected, but more fortunate than so many else caught in this terrible war. At the very least, we get to say goodbye. Something I know you didn't get to do last time."

His voice shook, a crack upon his already shattered soul. "I'm sorry," he managed through his hiccoughs. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sev," Lily muttered back, drawing him into an embrace. "It was my impatience, in the end. You were right. My Gryffindor nature would be the end of me."

Silent sobbing wracked his form, his face buried into her shoulder.

"Severus," Lily whispered to his sobbing frame. "When I am gone…" She found her voice hitching, taking a moment to steady herself again before continuing. "When I am gone, please promise me you'll continue on."

It was such a cruel request. The tightening of his clutching hands told her as much. He answered her not so she tried again, urging the point. "Please, Severus. This war is still going. They need you."

"Damn the war!" he cried out, making as if to push himself from Lily's arms, frustration and despair clawing from his words. "Damn it all!"

But Lily held him all the more firmer. "I understand, Severus. Your life has been nothing but war. You've had to be nothing but brave. But keep fighting on for me. Please. You have seen one world fall to ruin. This is the only world I know. Please save it for me, and leave your mark as the man I know you are."

She felt him still in her arms, his sobbing ease. "I promise," he uttered, voice cracking unable to muster any more than that. His promise putting her mind and heart at ease. For promises from Severus would never be lightly broken.

He was ever so brave…

There was much to regret. Much to lament about where her life had taken to. How far she had reached and how short she had fallen. How short her life had been and how little she had experienced. To know that destiny had another path for her, one that she did not regret having not lived save one.

She would never live to be a mother.

The child she had seen in Sev's memories was the son of her other destiny. A boy who looked so much like his father, another man she had been destined to love. A child that Severus could never love.

That they never got a chance to have a child broke her heart. That through two lifetimes he had not the chance to see himself a father. Two lifetimes that he had not had a child to love as his own.

"And at the end of it all… if you get another chance, Severus. If by some miracle you find yourself rethreading another life by my side. Promise me… that we'll raise a child together."

This time he pulled himself upright, his black eyes rimmed in red, the pain of what could have been held within. "I promise," his voice but a whisper.

Another lifetime was too much to ask to ask for where one had been a miracle in itself, but hope was all they had now.

Anguish gripped Snape's heart. A deep suffocating helplessness threatened to drown him.

He had failed her. All the intellect he purported to possess, the caution and insight, and the deep and intimate knowledge of the dark arts he possessed had failed her. He did not know where to turn or what to do in the face of this terrible moment.

He observed the few strands left of the light that bound her soul. The curse no longer held her in grips yet her soul had become untethered. The light of her spirit would pass from her body, causing her to fall into torpor. The strands that bound it strain against its unsolicited motion, causing more to fray and eventually fall away.

There were only six left. Six strands keeping her from passing on from this world. Six strands keeping tethered all that was worth anything in his life.

Just six strands.

She was awake now, exchanging her goodbyes with the teary Marlene McKinnon, or Potter, as it were. So, too, did she exchange her goodbyes with Potter himself. Their tears not spared despite their lives no longer entwined as fate had once dictated. Their exchange a painful reminder of what her life had once been, how she had survived two more years in that lifetime. How she had borne a son and left a mark upon the world, a reminder that she had been alive.

And with her passing from this life, she would leave nothing but memories.

Snape gritted his teeth as he sat by his wife's bedside, stifling his unsteady breathing, unable to stifle his tears, unbelievably helpless in the face of this terrible moment. Terrified to watch Lily pass from this world, but unwilling to step away and miss the final moments he could have with her.

It was not the silvery light that profuse the room that jolted him from his mourning, but the calm voice that accompanied it. "Severus, I believe I have a solution. There is one item I know of to be able to restore a soul still tethered but weakly bound," said the silvery phoenix in Dumbledore's voice. "I'm travelling to Devon to meet with a mutual friend. Expect me in half-an-hour Severus. Do not lose hope."

But half an hour was more than Lily had in the state that she was in.

But hope was not lost.

Snape stood, his heart racing as blood rushed to his head. His helplessness fell away in the face of a solution posed. His fast mind racing to pull together the facts hidden behind what was unsaid.

This was not a unique problem. It was one with a solution already posed. And this solution required the assistance of another soul, from the county of Devon of all places. A mutual friend as it were. There were few wizards and witches in Snape's life that haled from the remote county in the West Country, and so very few he would consider friends. Fewer still that he thought to possess the ability to help.

Save one.

With a start, Snape stood from his seat, nearly knocking it over. His quick mind rallying as realisation dawned of what Dumbledore was reaching for.

The Philosopher's Stone.

How could he have forgotten the properties that legends had ascribed to that mythical relic? The stone that created the elixir of life. The power to bring back those on the verge of death and extend life beyond what was naturally theirs.

A legend that had been created by only one man in the history of alchemy and attempted by countless more. Numerous attempts upon this stone in history trickled down to only one success.

And yet this was the only way left to save his Lily.

The eyes of Lily's bedside visitors that had been drawn by the arrival of that ethereal messenger bird turned from Snape, content to allow him a measure of privacy in what must have seemed like a lashing out of grieving frustration.

Lily's eyes too had turned away, but not for empathy's sake. She drooped where she sat. Her soul drifted yet again, that bright spark emerging from her breast, the strands that held it fading ever closer to extinguishing. She closed her eyes, laying down her head, perhaps for the last time.

Snape turned away and strode from the room, torn by the despair of face of his wife's last moments of life but driven by grim determination to try his damndest to save her. He would never forgive himself if he hadn't.

He stepped to the Alchemy table, summoning his cauldron from its snug storage space in the cupboard under the shelves. With swift efficiency, he beckoned forth his silver knife alongside it, the first step evident in his knowledgeable mind.

Blood is its base.

That much was evident. For no other liquid represented life like the crimson red of lifeblood.

Snape took the tip of his silver knife to his palm, without hesitation he pressed the blade deep into his flesh and held firm as he drew the cut long, slicing wider and deeper than he had the skill to stop with magic. Crimson seeped into the tracks of the knife, pooling quickly and deeply into his palm. He held his bleeding hand over the cusp of the cauldron, letting the blood flow in and collect in its belly.

Gold is its core.

There was little guesswork involved in that notion. What the stone created was what comprised its core. Dripping blood in his wake, Snape moved to the drawers of his desk, bringing forth that golden medallion of pure gold. An award for a matter of significance far below the value of the life that hung upon the balance.

He held that disk of gold, as pure as gold could be. Crafted by the magical touch of the very stone that Snape sought to create. Snape held that medallion in his bleeding hand and released it into the cauldron, chanting under his breath as blood within began to swirl.

The memory was what remained the mystery. The essence of the stone. The secret of the stone, for it could not be so simple as its base and core comprised.

Peace, Flamel had once revealed the memory to have been. An abstract notion no doubt. And one that would have taken a stretch of the imagination to comprehend had it not been for his recall of a comment made seemingly so insignificant.

"For what is eternal life compared to finding eternal peace with another?"

Flamel had uttered that sentiment. A starkly unique perspective, for Snape had never heard of anyone referring to their love as such. He could not help but suspect that turn of phrase purposeful, if not entirely intentional. Perhaps a slip of tongue formed by his own sentiments. Or perhaps words to sow the seeds of the truth behind the man's greatest secret.

Peace is the essence.

Snape put want to temple, readying the memory of his greatest love, but a whisper in the back of his mind gave him pause.

It could not be this simple.

In the history of the quest of the Philosopher's Stone, how many thousands weathered this path before him? How many thousands would have drawn up these very theories throughout the history of the pursuit for this very relic?

No. It could not be so simple.

There was another trick behind it.

"…eternal peace with another."

There was no prior knowledge to guide him. No written word to confirm the direction of his thoughts. This was not a mystery Snape could solve with his mind, for his knowledge led him to this point and no further.

It was not his mind that moved his hand to take within it that crystal bottle of precious memories. It wasn't his logic that drew a strand of his own memories and mingled it with the precious silver fluid he poured from the unstopped vessel.

The silvery substance touched the swirling red and trickled in, devoured by the unnatural crimson of the vortex, barely glancing across the surface of the golden core that melded into the substance.

And just as suddenly, it all stopped. Crystallised in a heart of sanguine red, his hopes for the future remained.

A/N: After Grindelwald, Dumbledore never trusted his heart again. Yet, he still believed in the power of love… I'd like to think that this was why.

A thank you to my Beta readers Sattwa100 and thrawnca for your work on this chapter.

Next Update: Saturday 24th October 2020.

Chapter 89: A Gryffindor's Way

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe and do not seek to profit in any way, shape or form from this fan work.