Rebirth

Prologue

The world is made up of so many different wizards, and Severus Snape was not the sort who enjoyed being hailed as a national hero. At least, not in this case. He wouldn't have cared getting an Order of Merlin for putting Sirius Black, his old tormentor, back into Azkaban. Even if he hadn't technically killed those Muggles, Severus didn't care. Sirius was a fool and a narrow-minded bigot, and the Potions Master had been extremely happy at his passing. There was no joy in this kind of acknowledgment, however.

Witches and wizards sent flocks of owls daily, prattling on nonsensically about how romantic a figure he was, protecting the life of Harry Potter for the love of his mother. A scowl twisted the waxy features of the Potions master's face. Potter was an idiot, and the Ministry a bigger one for broadcasting Snape's past, but he supposed it was necessary to prove his innocence.

He had only revealed his past with Lily Potter because he had thought death was a breath away. The blood had been pouring out of him as strongly as a waterfall, and he'd felt the weakness claim his body. And as if by fate, Harry Potter had swished off his Invisibility Cloak, and the emerald legacy of Lily's had been looking into him with empathy. Delusional, Severus had given his supposed last thoughts to Potter, thinking that it was his last chance to tell the red-haired girl how he felt about her. Then, the hovering blackness had taken him in a swirl.

But oddly enough, he lived. He had merely fainted from severe blood loss, and when Severus regained his senses, he'd tottered around, managing to procure several Blood-Replenishing Potions by Accioing them. Thus, here he was. Still amongst the living, and being lavished on with pleasures galore.

He didn't enjoy a brass farthing of it, though. All of this hadn't been for monetary gain, or status upgrading. His heart clenched tightly as the memory of the laughing girl who had once been his friend, and his secret love. It had been for her. Everything.

Severus Snape's black eyes glinted as he gazed out over the sparkling blue water of the lake, his thoughts on those who had fallen on the night of the fateful last battle. Silently, he made a small gesture in salute to the souls who he knew where out there, somewhere. They were the true heroes, not he.


*

Eight year old Lucie Vaughn was just another ordinary little girl who lived in Little Whinging. She lived a relatively happy life, with an apron-donning mother and a father who drove a big shiny car, and she had just gotten a cute golden retriever puppy named Lucky for her latest birthday.

It was late afternoon, and Lucie had wandered off to the playground, holding the puppy carefully in her arms when crossing the street. Playing cheerfully, she barely noticed the time fly by, and only noticed when the sky had darkened considerably.

"Uh-oh," she said to Lucky, who panted heavily. "Mommy's going to be very very very mad." Picking up the whimpering dog, she walked home at a slow pace, wanting to prolong what she knew was going to be an angry tirade. Her blond head down, she expected to come to her house to find her mother standing outside it, arms crossed against her chest, and steaming mad.

But when Lucie finally got to the end of the block where her house was, she found that the door was closed, and there was an odd feeling about it. Chills running through her small body, Lucie grasped the puppy tighter against her, who was growling softly.

She was about to knock tentatively on the door, when it swung open creakily of its own accord. What Lucie saw set her to screaming, the shrill sound echoing throughout the neighborhood.

*

"It's a shame Dumbledore isn't here to see this," Professor McGonnagall said in a soft tone most people never heard from the formiddable Headmistress. The young woman beside her touched the gnarled fingers gently, her amber eyes alight with sympathy.

"Professor McGonnagall, I am sure that he is seeing this from whereever he is now, and I expect he is delighted with the results," Hermione Granger returned quietly, looking out over the many witches and wizards working together to fix up Hogwarts. It was a wonderful sight, the House members mingling and laughing together, all past rivalries put aside.

Minerva McGonnagall squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Miss Granger was entirely right. There was no need to be dwelling on the past when the future was so bright. The shadow of Voldemort had fallen forever, and there was only happiness ahead of her. Just from observation, Minerva could foresee a better and safer future for all magical folks. It was all for the best. And yet... the loss of Dumbledore would never quite be erased from her heart. But it wasn't meant to, and McGonnagall would bear the pain until the day she left this world for another.

So many people had died that night, Hermione thought beside her, her lips quivering unconsciously. Friends, teachers, and people she had known and grown to love as family were gone. Even peace, she had found out the hard way, had a bloody price. She supposed it was a cycle of life, and perhaps inevitable, but it hurt all the same. Oh, Hermione knew that these deaths had been meaningful and for the greater good. It still made her whole body wrack and contract.

Tears burned down the curve of her cheek, and an ugly sob escaped her lips. She knew it would get better, this empty ache, but for now, the wounds were still fresh. Hermione felt an arm pull her towards someone, and she was surprised to see it was Professor McGonnagall. The Headmistress had never been a demonstrative woman, but Hermione could see the vulnerability mist the green eyes, which looked older than old at the moment. The two women broke down then, holding each other for comfort as they wept for all those who would never see the dawn of another era.


**

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Love,
Snow White