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HIM AGAIN: Chapter 1: Death, Victory and Pain - Death
Albus Dumbledore was numb with horror.
As his body fell away from him, from life, everything seemed to fade with it. He couldn’t see the Death Eaters anymore, nor the tower or the Dark Mark. His beloved Hogwarts was gone - no, it was he who was gone, leaving everything he cared about. He was too sick with dread at what had happened to even consider paying attention to what was happening to him.
Severus…
This couldn’t be. It was utterly impossible; if someone had told him about it, he would have laughed out loud at the absurdity of it.
Severus, no, you couldn’t have.
There was something wrong here; it couldn’t have happened.
That wasn’t you.
His soul shuddered; he recognised his own denial.
Merlin, no…
The closed mind. The raised wand.
Why?
Loathing, etched into features he had protected and cherished.
Severus… please…
He was sick with it, with the realisation - but no! Severus would never-
…Don’t betray me. Don’t go back into the night.
A harsh cry. A green flash, the after-image burnt into his spirit.
Severus, my child, my dark one, my eyes on the enemy-
Eyes on him. The pain. The agony of brutal acceptance. Then another thought: Harry. Harry’s face swam before him, Harry angry, Harry bereaved, Harry guilty, Harry worried, Harry laughing-
He’d told Harry repeatedly to trust Severus. Repeatedly.
Severus turning to Harry, wand raised - the dark words cried again-
Had his mistake cost him that much? Had his mistake cost him his life, the whole of the wizarding world… had it cost him Harry…? What had happened? He could imagine it all too clearly; it was terrifying in its clarity - he allowed himself to think the worst, because the worst had half happened-
Harry angry. Harry running after Severus. Severus turning around, and-
Avada Kedavra.
If he had eyes, he would be weeping now. For his mistake, he deserved the worst.
But things were spreading out now. He was dissolving on the rushing wind, and darkness was all around him. Ahead, he could see a bright light, shaped oddly against oblivion. He realised that it was a phoenix. Then darkness again; pulsating warmth around him… was this..?
He’d wondered, occasionally, what happened after death. Now the images painted by others before him rose up within his mind. Darkness and heat. Flames and punishment.
Despair.
Harry, he thought. Harry, my boy. And then he thought of someone else, and another face came to him in the vacuum. The fear of what else Severus might have done pumped through him. He’d seen grim betrayal for faithful loyalty. What if what he’d interpreted as friendly rivalry had actually been bitter enmity?
Merlin, no.
He saw the raven hair and the green eyes. It was odd; how his two favourite people shared features.
Minerva…
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