Chapters 211-220

Here We Go Again

‘Well, wow,’ Harry said. ‘So here we go again.’

His Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘Bloody hell, why am I so jittery?’ With a quick gesture he reassured himself that the Elder Wand was in its sheath next to Gryffindor’s sword and that the small jewellery box with the other half of the Resurrection Stone was safely tucked into the pocket of his jeans. He inhaled deeply. ‘Right. I guess since—uh—there’s no one here, we should summon a guide again.’

Severus stuck the birch wand that had turned into a key to the Gate between Life and Death again securely into the bandolier with his Necromantic bells. He secured his other wand just above it. Then he drew Godric Gryffindor’s sword from its sheath at Harry’s side.

‘Still fond of those tattoos?’ he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Harry bit down on his lip. ‘Very.’

He offered Severus the back of his left fore-arm instead and closed his eyes.

oooOooo

Harry watched how Hedwig circled over a non-descript spot in the middle of the Asphodel Meadows. He’d miss her when they returned to the lands of the living. But now, at least, he could imagine her forever whirling around these grey skies.

When he narrowed his eyes, he noticed the small speck of a black stone floating a foot above the ground, and an area of mint and grass that looked as if someone had trampled the plants. That’s where he and Severus had sat down the last time they were here. Would it stay like that forever? In a place with no rain and no wind, that was entirely possible.

They stood in front of the Resurrection Stone. In front of Dumbledore’s soul.

Frozen, silent.

At last Hedwig swooped down and settled on the ground below a particularly high Asphodel plant.

‘Right,’ Harry said and swallowed hard. ‘Time to summon Dobby.’

He held out his arm to Severus once more, eyeing the thin white scar of the cut that had called Hedwig. When they got back, he’d look like a cutter. And what the hell was he going to tell Severus about the ownership of the Elder Wand?

oooOooo

‘Give me the wand,’ Severus ordered.

Dobby—or the visualization of his soul—cowered on the other side of the floating Resurrection Stone. He was looking nervously from Harry to Severus and back. Harry wondered if the soul of the house-elf could see who the owner of the Elder Wand really was.

Harry inhaled deeply. ‘No,’ he said simply. ‘I won’t. Actually, I can’t. Because I am the true Owner of the Elder Wand. Not you.’

Severus jerked against their bonds so sharply that the thongs cut deep into the tender flesh of Harry’s wrist. ‘Ouch,’ Harry yelped. ‘Stop that!’

‘What did you do? What in the name of Merlin, Nimuë and all the saints, have you done?’

Harry turned his head to face his friend. Yes: friend, he thought to himself. He studied Severus for a moment, before he replied.

Severus Snape was 41 years old, but he looked older. Of course the stark contrast of pale skin, black eyes and black hair had always set him apart. Apart. Yes, Severus Snape had always existed apart—separated, secluded, and excluded—from everyone else. Harry’s own father had had his part in shaping this existence of black and white shades of loneliness. Black. Severus could be an utterly obstinate arsehole and enjoy himself immensely in the process. Harry remembered well how he’d hated Snape. Yes: Hated. Loathed. His stomach cramped with the memory of this honest, if ignorant emotion.

And still, in spite of it all, this man had tried to protect him for years and years. And succeeded.

Against all odds.

Then I’ll succeed now, Harry told himself stubbornly. Against all odds.

Because, he reasoned, now I know about the white shades, too. How Severus loved my mum. How he loves Hermione. And even me, in a way, I guess. How he’d done everything he could. Everything. Always.

‘I couldn’t let you do it,’ Harry said simply. ‘You’ve done enough. More than enough.’

Black eyes bored into him. ‘And you haven’t?!’

Harry shrugged. At last he offered Severus a wry grin. ‘It was a decision I could make. At least I thought I could. So I did. Looks like I got lucky. Let’s hope my luck holds, okay?’

For a moment, Severus just stared at him. The tiny vein in his temple pulsed and the muscle in his jaw twitched. And his hand was balled to an iron fist within the leather bonds that tied them together for the duration of their stay in the Realm of Death.

At last Severus dragged his free hand through his lank hair. Harry exhaled softly. He hadn’t really thought that Severus would try to kill or hex him on the spot. The circumstances would have rendered that kind of retaliation highly ridiculous. But he hadn’t been completely sure. With Severus Snape, Harry guessed, no one except possibly Hermione could ever be completely sure of anything.

‘Potter,’ Severus said, though his tone was not entirely hostile, ‘you’re an idiot.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Harry answered. ‘I know.’

Severus just shook his head. His expression grew very serious. ‘Harry, are you really sure that you want to do this? I—this is beyond the most bizarre Muggle or magical metaphysics, but…neither you nor I have any idea what this means to D—to Albus’ soul. If you cannot do this, I am sure we can find a way to transfer the ownership to me painlessly.’

‘You mean, by playing rock-paper-scissors? No way, Severus. You must be aware that I’ve blamed you for Dumbledore’s death before. I was an idiot. Well, considering the circumstances, maybe not too much of an idiot, but still. Look at it as a method of getting even in a roundabout way.’

‘But that’s the problem, Harry,’ Severus said softly. ‘I no longer desire to get even. Not with you, nor with anyone else.’