Title: Redivivus (Seasons)

For: mcqueens_queen on twoseekers (LJ)

Rating: PG 14-ish... maybe verging on R because of violent parts.

Disclaimer: This is based on and uses characters and situations that belong to J.K. Rowling, and borrows heavily from Stephanie Meyer as well (the sparkly vampire bit). This is done for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: The request was for a "sparkly vampire Cedric" story. It turned long...

Redivivus (Seasons) Prologue: Like Snow

Dumbledore looked up. It was rare for him to be surprised, particularly here, but this had been a trying night, and Snape had always been a special case.

"Will you excuse us, please?" he asked the Auror who had been taking his statement. Polite, unfailingly polite, though he might fail at all else. Barty Crouch's son, a Death Eater, in his school. Teaching children! A boy had died tonight, and Dumbledore knew exactly where the blame for that lay. He felt the weight of it.

He stood, thick robes sweeping the floor. Another kind of heaviness, that. He moved to Snape's side. "Severus, this is hardly the time."

"There's something you need to see. Immediately." The Auror would not be likely to notice the tightening of Snape's jaw, nor to recognize what it meant. If Dumbledore wore tradition, Snape wore masks. The fact was, Dumbledore had rarely seen him this upset.

"Of course." He murmured his apologies to the Auror, promising to return as soon as opportunity afforded itself. Then he followed his Potions Master to the small room off the Infirmary where Cedric Diggory lay.

The room was candlelit, the air still and heavy. The boy's parents had gone, at last, to find what solace they could in sleep or wakefulness. Dumbledore found his steps slowing, his robes dragging behind him as he approached the bed.

The room smelled of flowers.

Someone had arranged the boy, closed his eyes, folded his hands over his chest. Dumbledore suspected that it was Poppy's work, and made a mental note to thank her. Cedric had always been a handsome lad. Seeing him so pale and lifeless… something in Dumbledore's chest clenched.

Rather than disturb the silence, he looked his question at Snape.

Snape held himself stiffly. He swallowed once, the movement of his throat working his collar tight for a moment. Another man, Dumbledore thought, might have trembled. In such details we betray ourselves.

With a sudden splaying of his fingers, Snape darkened the candles in the room. "Lumos." His voice was steady.

The wand-light flared. It showed what the candles had not—Cedric's skin glittered like snow in sunlight. Dumbledore heard his own gasp. He gripped the bed-rail. Nothing else, he thought, could keep the weight of this from pulling him under.

"His skin is cold," Snape said. "Hard to the touch. You know what this means."

Not dead but undead.

"Enough," Dumbledore said. A surge of his will extinguished Snape's wand and lit the candles. He wanted the warmer light. "Harry said—"

"Potter lied." Under Dumbledore's glare, Snape softened. "Lied or was mistaken. He was overwrought, Albus. Who knows what he saw?"

"I know what he saw. I read it in his mind." He let his thoughts turn inwards, replaying what Harry had shown him. "Was there a wound?"

Snape shook his head. "No. That's the strange part. Strangest, rather."

Something tugged at his mind. A thought, a memory. "Keep watch over him, Severus. No one enters. I must consult my books."

Dumbledore barely registered Snape's nod as he swept from the room. Not dead but undead. It seemed that Voldemort's return was not to be their only challenge this night.