Chapter 1

126 1 0
                                    


"Rest my soul, grace set me free,

I know my sins and they know me"

(song It Knows Me by Avi Kaplan) 




The battle for Wizarding Britain's soul was over. But there was no peace. No relief. No stillness. Only grief, hurt, wailing for the lost, and the busy work of triaging the injured, comforting the dying and sorting the dead. Life and Death co-mingling, out in the open, bidding against one another for souls. Who lives. Who dies. The Good, the Bad, the Guilty, the Innocent. All, together, existing, or not, at the partially demolished Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The badly injured were  tended to by Madam Poppy Pomfrey and volunteers from the not-as-badly injured. Professor Minerva McGonagall took charge and directed the recovery effort of the fallen 'heroes', keeping her poise, holding in her own anguish to get the job done. 

Kingsley Shacklebolt and his aurors handled the dead Death Eaters, werewolves and giants on the outside of the Great Hall near the crumbled walls of the school. Those left fighting behind Voldemort, were either dead or captured. Many had run away when Harry Potter jumped up, alive, and things came to a head in the Final Battle as it will forever be titled.

Hogwarts' losses were fewer but devastating. Fred Weasley had perished as did young Colin Creevy, and Remus and Tonks Lupin. Lavender Brown was dead, torn to pieces by the vicious werewolf Fenrir Greyback who was himself beheaded by Neville Longbottom with the Sword of Gryffindor. Several more had fought bravely and lost. They would become known as the fallen 50 in the years to come. None will be forgotten. Except one.


Minerva spotted Harry Potter among the busy throng. He carried the lifeless body of Tonks in his arms, placing her gently beside her fallen husband. The weary professor hurriedly made her way to him. Seizing the young man by the shoulders and spinning him around to look into his watery green eyes,

"Mister Potter, is it true, what you said about Severus? His loyalties were to Dumbledore?"

Harry nodded. He was exhausted and in mourning for yet another lost paternal figure in Remus. McGonagall shook him gently,

"Harry, please. Severus?"

Harry shook his head, trying to find the strength to talk among so much sadness,

"Y-yes, Professor. He was the Headmaster's spy. He did whatever Dumbledore asked of him and that included killing the Headmaster. It was the Dumbledore's plan all along because he was dying of a curse anyway. Snape...Professor Snape...tried to thwart Voldemort at every turn and protect all of us at Hogwarts while appearing to be a faithful Death Eater."

Minerva recalled this past year. Severus was Headmaster but the cruel Carrows twins were otherwise in charge. Everyone had put the blame squarely on Snape's shoulders. Hatred was directed at him. Not the Carrows. Not Voldemort. Severus was the face of the evil that had besieged Hogwarts. Many attempts had been made on his life with her blessing. 

But she should have known. She should have realised. The castle had accepted him as Headmaster. Something it had not done with Dolores Umbridge. Snape was a powerful wizard yet that  last fight to drive him out, she recalled, he had hardly tried, using mainly defensive spells. She fought to hold back the tears,

"Harry, where is he? His body, do you know where it is?"

"Yes. The Shrieking Shack."

"Take me there, please, at once. The least I can do for him is to lay him alongside our other fallen heroes."

Go the DistanceWhere stories live. Discover now