The Prince's Tale (unnoficial version)

I own nothing that is recognisable; it all belongs to J. K. Rowling (the jammy mare).I make no money from writing this, only self satisfaction. This is how I think Deathly Hallows should have finished (lots of spoilers).

The Prince’s Tale (unofficial version).

“He did not know why he was doing it, why he was approaching the dying man: he did not know what he felt as he saw Snape’s white face, and the fingers trying to staunch the bloody wound at his neck. Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak and looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening eyes found Harry as he tried to speak. Harry bent over him; and Snape seized thefront of his robes and pulled him close.
A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from Snape’s throat.
‘Take… it… Take… it…’
Something more than blood was leaking from Snape. Silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, it gushed from his mouth and his ears and his eyes, and Harry knew what it was, but did not know what to do –
A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hands by Hermione. Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask as full to the brim, and Snape looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry’s roes slackened.
‘Look…at…me…’ he whispered.
The green eyes found the black, but after a second something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.” (Rowling, 2007)

As Snape lay dying on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack, he gave everything he had left to Harry; the boy he knew was the only one who could stop the evil tyrant that had ruined his life. As the cold fingers of death gripped his soul, he stared into the depth of emerald green eyes that had stared back at him with nothing but hatred and distain for the past seven years. They were the same eyes that he had also longed to look into for the last seven years, and that had haunted him for half his life. As darkness fell over Snape, the eyes lingered, glowing against the black, until even their shine dimmed, and there was nothing.

Harry dived, headlong into the memories of his Professor, landing in sunlight. He watched as Snape approached his mother and aunt as children, introducing his mother to the world in which she belonged. Harry saw their first day at Hogwarts, looking so small and young in their new uniforms. He saw the disappointment and loss on both their faces as they were sorted into different houses, barely noticing his father jeering at them both. Various scenes of them during the following years flowed by, the people in the memories gradually growing up and getting older. Harry had seen some of the memories before from Snape’s mind, until the memories stopped in almost pitch darkness. From the dim light of the crescent moon Harry could guess that he was within the grounds of Hogwarts, near the exit of one of the secret tunnels out of the castle.
‘Hurry up will you?’
Harry turned at the voice he almost didn’t recognise because of the unusual laughter that resonated through it.
‘Sev, we’re going to get caught out here!’
‘And exactly what are they going to do about Lilly? They can’t give the head girl of all people a detention.’
‘I guess it won’t hurt for a short walk then,’
‘That’s my girl.’
Harry watched as Lilly and Snape sat beneath a tree, holding hands in a seemingly comfortable silence, though his mother blushed and looked slightly nervous.
‘Lilly, what’s the matter?’ Snape asked, curiously watching the auburn haired woman fidget next to him.
‘Sev, do you love me?’
Giving her a small smile, he gently kissed her forehead and whispered
‘More than anything in the world, including Quidditch I may add. Why do you ask?’
‘Looking at the ground, Lilly blushed redder still, rivalling any Weasley’s hair.
‘I’m having your baby Sev.’
With a look of utter joy, Severus kissed Lilly with such passion, nearly knocking her over with the force, and thankfully for Harry the memory faded.
A dim light guided Harry into the next memory, of Snape and his mother again, this time they were sitting in an abandoned classroom, Snape’s hand gently laid on Lilly’s slightly swollen belly.
‘The little one is really in there isn’t she?’
‘It’s true, Sev, though I think it’s a he. Do you know what else is true?’
‘What?’
‘You have too many clothes on.’
Lilly started pulling at Snape’s clothes, sliding his outer robes from his shoulders leaving him in his short sleeved school shirt. Harry was starting to consider leaving the pensieve when both he and his mother noticed the black shape against the pale skin of Snape’s arm.
‘Sev, what’s that?’
‘Lily, I…’
‘No! Stay the hell away from me Severus!’ Backing towards the door, Lilly Evans was furious.
‘You’re a hypocrite Severus Snape! He will never think you’re any better than the lowly half blood you are, whatever poison He has been spilling into your ear. Stay there, and don’t think for one minute your baby is EVER going to know you! I will not have him growing up with a Deatheater as a father!’
‘Lily…’
Harry felt himself being dragged into the next memory of Snape asking for Dumbledore’s help to save Lily and her son. From the glint in Dumbledore’s eyes, it was plain that he knew of the relationship between Lily, Snape and the year old Harry Potter. With tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, Harry exited Snape’s memories, knowing not only had his father died that night, but a man who had no reason to, had loved him as his own and had died to protect him, as so many others had that night. Neither should have died in vain, and with this thought, Harry left to face his own death and Voldemort.

Nineteen years later, Harry stood on platform nine and three quarters, waving goodbye to his middle child as he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time.
‘Albus Severus’ he mused to himself. Few understood the real namesake of his son, but it was not important for them to know. He knew and understood, in his own surly way, his father had always loved him.



Rowling, J. K. (2007) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows; Bloomsbury; London