Walking through the empty and cold ancient painting lined walls of Hogwarts gave Severus plenty of quiet time to ponder the past.
On a walk like this, He usually would've been out hunting for wayward students who thought themselves above the rules, relishing in the chance to put cocky children in their place -detention- where they belonged.
But not today.
Today as he walked, Severus thought deeply once again about a particular green-eyed child. A child who he treated like a spoiled brat. A child who was dead.
Harry Potter had been the bane of his existence since the moment the child walked into Severus's potions class.
And no matter how he looked at it. No matter how he painted the picture. He'd treated the child horribly. There was no way Severus could twist it in his mind to seem any different.
He would never allow himself to stoop so low as to cry. But Severus still felt the burden that sat like a weight over his heart.
There were no words to describe just how much he regretted his actions. How much he wished he could've treated the boy differently, given a chance to start again and knowing what fate had in store.
But what irked the wizard the most was the fact that no matter how much he regretted his actions, no matter how much he drowned in guilt, he'd never be able to right his many mistakes.
He did treat the Potter boy terribly. He was unfair, biased and made it purposely difficult for the boy to have progressed in his class.
Severus had abused his authority as a professor, and there was no fixing that mistake.
Except it was too late to acknowledge the mistake now. What happened in the past was only so, the past. And no matter how much Severus hated his decisions, he could never change them.
No amount of magic ever would.
It seemed as though he was stuck repeating the past. No matter what, he always managed to caused grief and sadness.
This night was just like that fateful night fifteen years ago, where he made his way to the Headmaster. To say that Lily and James had fallen at the hands of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. And that Harry Potter had survived, the Chosen One.
Only now, Severus had to tell the Wizarding World that their Savior was gone. And it was his fault. Despite what the blue-eyed coot insisted, he, and he alone, was at fault for Harry's death.
Severus's robes dragged behind him as he skulked through the halls. A dour, gloomy expression sat seemingly etched into his face. The sight of which would have sent any student running the other direction.
The clicking of his heels came to an abrupt stop as he reached the familiar griffin that stood guard outside the Headmaster's office.
"Jolly Jelly." Came the magic key, stated in a cold voice. A tone that made it almost impossible to notice the onyx-eyed man's inner turmoil.
With a deep grinding sound, the stairway to the Headmaster opened and began to rise. Severus stepped onto one of the bottom steps, riding his way to the top on the magical steps rather than walking.
The stairs grind to a halt just as Severus clutches his temples in mock irritation as if to make it seem as though he was more inconvenienced than distraught.
He wanted to wait as long as he could to tell Dumbledore the truth.
He needed to compose himself first.
Stiffly lifting his arm into a fist, Severus knocked sharply on the door. Choosing to keep up the angry facade rather than showing grief.
"Ah, Severus, come in, my boy."
Quite creepily, the old crackpot always seemed to know who was outside his office.
But it didn't fool Severus. He knew beyond doubt that Dumbledore had many ways of doing what seemed impossible. Frankly, the man has more secrets than students. Someone truthfully more suited to Slytherin.
Wood groaned, and hinges squeaked softly as the doors swung open, forcing Severus to close his mind off to the heavy grief plaguing his mind.
Just as he'd decided to begin breaking the truth to the Headmaster, unexpected guests seemed set on making him wait.
In one chair, a tired and aging werewolf sat, looking underfed and distraught as usual. With brown hair ragged and gray.
Standing off to the right of Dumbledore stood two identical red-headed menaces, bearing teasing faces to conceal their worry. And for a second, Severus's irritation wasn't fake.
To the left of the office stood most of the remaining members of The Order; Moody, McGonagall, Tonks, Bill, and Charlie. Whom to Severus's dismay looked quite uncomfortable.
"I dare say we're glad to see you back in one piece," McGonagall said with a stern face and soft voice, betraying the stoic witch's attempt to seem unbothered about the situation.
She'd been one of the only people in The Order who disapproved of his less than safe side career, serving up quite the storm when he denied her advice to cut relations with The Dark Lord permanently.
Over the years, she had become a close confidant to Severus. They'd often stumble upon each other's private quarters after a particularly trying day for tea and quiet conversation.
She was the one Severus was worried about most. There was no telling how she'd react to the horrid fate of her lion. Her reaction to Harry Potters's abduction had been the most heartwrenching, and she hadn't stopped inquiring about him since.
In comparison to McGonnogal's stoic face, the rest of the members seemed less inclined to disguise their fearful expressions. All except Dumbledore, who appeared to be attempting a jovial expression, with sparkling blue eyes and a lemon drop, no doubt sitting in his mouth.
With a beckoning hand, the Headmaster waved to the only open seat, which happened to be next to Remus.
"Please, Severus, do sit down. Would you like a lemon drop, tea perhaps?"
Severus sighed in mock irritation and adjusted his robes so he could sit. "I will pass, thank you. I do hope you remember why I have come?"
Dumbledore swatted the air above himself playfully and took a sip of tea before poising his fingers in front of his face. And if his years of spying were worth anything, Severus could swear that the blue-eyed man looked almost worried.
"Of course, of course, just a moment Severus. Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea?"
"I do believe I've answered that question already. What I would like is for you to explain why you seem to have garnered an audience for a private meeting?"
And just like that, the sliver of worry present on Dumbledore's face seemed to melt away. Whether because he was no longer worried or because he was acting. Severus couldn't quite tell.
After a few seconds of silence, Dumbledore began to speak. This time to address not only Severus but the entire room.
"Ah, well, you see, The Order thought it was only fair that these meetings became official Order meetings- now Severus, calm down, my boy. You must realize that it is within their right to request such a thing..."
"No," Taking a quiet breath, Severus strengthened his mental barriers and chose to remain silent, deciding to wait until the Headmaster spoke first.
"I gather Voldemort was in better spirits tonight."
At this, Severus froze. It wasn't the way he would've chosen to describe it. But being in better spirits was one way of putting it.
The scene playing through his mind once more almost made him lose it there and then. The Dark Lord was more than happy. The sick monster was ecstatic to kill, to slaughter, what was nothing more than a child. Who did nothing but enter the world at the wrong time.
Severus was by no means an innocent man. He had aided in the death of innocent muggles and muggle-born alike. But he would never, never, harm a child.
Steeling himself for what should've been a careless lie, Severus began to speak again.
"Indeed-" But before he could even finish, an inpatient werewolf cut in.
"And Harry? Were you able to talk to him, or at least see him? Tell me he's all right! Severus! Stop looking so smug and put together, you bastard!"
Minerva looked towards Remus with displeasure written on her features. "For goodness sake Remus, let him finish."
Severus's shoulders tensed as he drew an imperceptibly shallow breath.
The Dark Lord had been fickle about letting anyone but Bellatrix near Harry's cell for a long while. He'd been skeptical of almost his entire inner-circle when he became wary of a spy, coincidently suspecting everyone but Severus. Because who would surmise someone who'd proven themselves capable of the biggest betrayal against Dumbledore.
"The Dark Lord was indeed almost friendly at the last gathering. But he would not tell me why. He trusts no one besides Bellatrix as of recent." Severus intoned numbly.
"For Merlin's sake, get to the point!" Shouted an uncharacteristically impatient werewolf.
Severus glanced for a moment at Remus and noticed that his eyes were almost entirely glowing amber. He looked exhausted as if he was trying to keep his other side at bay.
If he didn't word himself carefully, Severus would very likely get mauled by an angry werewolf, no doubt about it.
Almost as though he could peer through Severus barriers, Dumbledores still twinkling eyes began to mirror Severus's distress.
"Severus, my boy, what happened?"
Carefully and numbly, Severus began to explain everything he saw up until Harry's death, the rune circle made of blood, the chanting Death Eater's, and finally, the storm of green lightning.
The color seemed to vanish entirely from the faces of everyone present as they concluded where Severus was heading with his explanation.
"Severus, now hold-" Dumbledore began frantically.
"Harry Potter is dead," Severus declared flatly, cutting the Headmaster off.
A dreadful wallowing noise sounded from somewhere to his left, and Severus gradually turned to see where it originated. Horridly conscious that he already knew, but he wanted to be proven wrong.
Tears streamed down Minerva's face like flowing rivers of anguish. Her face white as a ghost, and her lips parted as a frightful sob escaped her.
Severus's heart dropped as he watched Minerva struggle to stand, ultimately failing as her knees buckled, barely being caught in time by Bill and Charlie, both looking shellshocked and white in the face.
With another heartwrenching wail, Severus paled further. The news might be the death of her.
Severus turned back towards the Headmaster, only to face a Dumbledore who looked a hundred years too old, whose dull eyes no longer sparkled, but instead seemed empty and cold, like a blank void. Hands shaking with anger and sadness as tears began to flow down his weathered cheeks.
"Tell me, Severus, tell me Harry passed without pain," Dumbledore asked with a shaky voice that did not suit the man at all.
Glaring down at his hands, Severus weighed his response. He could lie, spare them all from the ugly truth, only Dumbledore would still know. And didn't they deserve the truth?
"Potter. Harry, he-" Severus managed to choke out evenly. Suddenly regretting his affair with the alcohol earlier. It wasn't exactly making this easier.
So he scolded himself for stuttering; nevertheless, he proceeded, "The Dark Lord used a ritual. I do not know what variety. But the boy was in agony."
Severus stared straight ahead at a blank wall.
"Until the small mercy of death."
Word Count - 1,935
~ LordOfLimbo