Harry Potter One Shots

Penance

All rights belong to the author, Rhapsody Belle

October 31st, 1981

The Potters' polite but firm refusal to name him their Secret Keeper had rankled every day since they first gone into hiding. Dumbledore had tried to make them see reason. He'd tried logic, he'd tried reason. When that had failed, he tried appealing to their friends to hound them. When even that had failed, he'd begun begging.

Lily had listened and nodded as he made his points, then countered each and every single argument with a calm and quiet, "Albus, anyone with eyes can see the stress you're under. You've been named Secret Keeper to at least six other families. James and I will not add to that burden. We have Sirius and we trust him implicitly."

Standing now in the wreckage of the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow, Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder if Lily and James knew that their implicit trust in Mr. Black had been heartbreakingly misplaced. Lily, for one, would never argue with him again. Dumbledore sighed and bent down to where she lay sprawled in the ruins of the nursery, her green eyes glassy and staring. He sighed, because it was either sigh or weep, and if he started weeping, he might never stop.

A white face loomed out of the shadows, pale and gaunt. Dumbledore's hand twitched towards his wand, but the choked, frightened voice of Severus Snape brought him up short.

"Headmaster? Is... is she-?

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a brief moment, then reached out and offered Lily the same courtesy. In death with her eyes closed, she looked to be merely asleep. If he tried even half-heartedly, he could almost convince himself she would wake at any moment, with laughter in her face, ready to gently but stubbornly refute every logical, rational argument he made. As she always had.

He spared a look to the shivering, pale Snape. The man, to his credit, looked like he wanted to be very sick, with long bony arms wrapped around himself in a failed effort to either warm or comfort. Dumbledore could have said, Look what you've done here. He could have said, Where was your concern yesterday? He could have said any number of things. But what he did say was:

"I'm afraid so, Severus."

Snape swallowed hard and his face went ashen. "I never thought—"

It was hard, so hard, to be gentle with this boy, this thoughtless boy, who'd come crawling to him in the wake of his master's revelation that the Potters would die tonight. Had it been another family, Dumbledore was positive Snape wouldn't have batted an eyelash at their ghastly demise. He certainly wouldn't expect Snape to care enough to offer advance warning if the Dark Lord had chosen instead to personally take care of the Longbottom boy.

Then again, Lily always had been important to Snape; it was such a pity that it would only be her death that could possibly redeem him. He sighed again. Sigh once, or weep forever. "Severus—"

A baby's wailing cry interrupted him, and he was thankful for the distraction. All the tearful self-recriminations in the world would not change the outcome of his decisions. Hagrid appeared in the scorched remains of the doorway, holding a bundle of cloth close to his chest.

"'Eadmaster, I found 'im," he announced. He was looking down at the tiny burden, bouncing it gently with his arm. "Blasted clear across the room, 'e wos. Musta given the poor li'l one a great fright, bein' all tossed about like tha'." Hagrid looked up to say more, but his face darkened into murderous fury at the sight of Dumbledore's companion. His pink umbrella whipped up, the pointed end uncompromisingly focused on Snape. "Wot's 'e doin' 'ere? Wot right does 'e 'ave 'ere?"

"Understanding the gravity of his choices," Dumbledore responded, and moved towards Hagrid. "Is young Harry alright?"

Hagrid's eyes did not waver from Snape's face, nor did the umbrella drop a whit. "'Ceptin' th' cut on 'is 'ead, and 'is two dead parents," he spat at Snape, "li'l tyke's th' picture o' 'ealth. Dunno wot You-Know-'Oo did to 'im, but it didn't take, wotever it wos."