Chapter Text
August 10th, 1995
A day was supposed to last 24 hours, 1440 minutes, 86400 bloody seconds. Yet this day, August 10th, seemed to be a scientific anomaly. Severus would swear on his magic that this day felt at least 40 hours long, and it was far from over.
It had started at midnight when he had still been slaving over a cauldron in Malfoy Manor. His eyes had been so bloodshot and itchy from barely any sleep, but he had no choice. The Dark Lord wanted to test out his skills and had given him some incredibly difficult, forgotten, and possibly incomplete ancient Greek recipe to brew. It was obviously a test of Severus's loyalty, and compared to the murder and torture he had been forced to participate in the First War, he would pick deadly potions any day.
Severus had needed to try referencing old alchemy and potions texts that the Ministry had most definitely banned decades, if not centuries, ago for a good reason. Thank Morgana, the Malfoys considered themselves above the law, and he had managed to find some vague directions of a similar potion. But all this research and experimenting meant that Severus had not seen the sun in a week, or had it been two now? He had not really looked at himself in the mirror, but he was certain he resembled the vampyric creatures his students not-so-secretly compared him to.
He had started brewing around five in the afternoon and had stumbled out of the potions room nearly twelve hours later when his third pepper-up potion had lost its efficacy, and his eyes had begun to close on their own accord. But this was on top of his regular brewing for the Order and the Death Eater and St. Mungo's and the two Apothecaries he worked with.
So at four in the morning, he had apparated into Spinner End and immediately passed out on his childhood bed. He had hoped to get at least four or five hours of sleep before returning to the Manor, but Albus' voice woke him up. The bloody phoenix patronus had almost given him a heart attack, which had then turned to annoyance at being awake at seven in the morning.
Then he had heard the message, "Severus, my boy, there have been some developments with Harry's trial, come to the safehouse as soon as possible," and Severus had almost screamed in frustration. Harry Potter. Of course.
Who else would be important enough to warrant Severus's presence at seven o'clock? That arrogant pig-headed … deep breath, he had reminded himself. When that had not worked, he started to occlude; it seemed that his mental shields were the only reason he was still relevantly sane these days. But even with his powerful occlusion, the name kept popping up in his fog-filled brain.
Potter. The greatest source of Severus's headaches.
A week ago, the brat had decided to use a Patronus in a muggle area. In front of a moronic muggle. And somehow, that had now become Severus's problem, as though he had any sway with the Ministry. Also, he was most certainly not telling anyone how hard he had suppressed the desire to smile when the boy had been expelled for a few short minutes. It was not, as most people would no doubt assume, because he wanted to get rid of the boy. Or at least not entirely.
Severus thought that Potter would be much safer under a Fidelius somewhere in the American West, or the Russian tundra, or anywhere that wizards would never look for him. The insolent child seemed to attract danger and evidently did not have enough common sense or sense for self-preservation. Typical Gryffindor.
So he had suggested to Albus that it would be much easier to pull Potter out of Hogwarts so he could be kept safe. But no! Minerva had exploded on him, how dare he suggest such a thing. Potter needed socialisation and time to grow up with his peers, but all Severus had heard was that Potter somehow mattered more than the safety of all other students combined. Because, let's face it, the Dark Lord would come after the brat, and his location would immediately become a beacon for conflict.
Now that Potter's attendance was uncertain, he was not the only one considering alternatives. It had actually been Shacklebolt who asked why Potter could not just stay at Grimmauld Place and be tutored by them. Severus had wanted to punch a wall when Minerva had considered the Auror’s idea, but he could never understand that woman!
But at seven in the morning, Severus had not been in the mood to contemplate his relationship with Minerva. Instead, he had gulped two cups of black coffee, changed his clothes, and apparated to Grimmauld twenty minutes after being rudely awakened. His brain had been slow enough that he entered the kitchen and had leaned against the wall furthest from the door, all without saying a word.
It had been his sense of smell that had woken up first, and he had barely restrained himself from looking around to find what smelt so good. But he did not have to try, after all, Molly Weasley's presence was all the explanation he needed.
Severus had to admit that her cooking was better than the Malfoy's elves, at the very least, he could name everything on his plate. So when she told everyone the eggs and pancakes were ready, and everyone should dig in, he could not resist. Severus got his food and realised he had forgotten to eat dinner. And maybe lunch?
He had retreated back to his chair in the corner, trying his best to avoid … well, everyone. There had been Mad-Eye Moody's judgemental stare, Albus' hideous robes that made his eyes water, and, of course, the mutt and his sidekick right in the middle.
The mutt was laughing at something Nymphadora had said, and Severus had prayed the meeting would just get started already. He was going over all the potions he had left in stasis, calculating how long he could afford to be gone before something went wrong.
Albus had cleared his throat, and everyone turned to him with respectful silence, and in some cases, Severus could see blind adoration in people's eyes. A tiny part of him pitied the blind Order members who saw the Headmaster as the second coming of Merlin. To Severus, he was just a man, a powerful and often annoyingly astute man, but still mortal like the rest of them.
"Harry's case is now receiving a full Wizengamot court hearing," announced the bespeckled wizard, and gasps of shock and outrage could easily be heard. "Yes indeed, Cornelius is using this incident to attack Harry's credibility and paint him as unstable."
The mutt had been the first to speak, adding in a disgusting tone, "No doubt the dark faction is loving this! They will support Fudge and vote against Harry - this way, You-Know-Who's return can remain a secret for longer. Those bloody snakes!" The wolf actually had to restrain the mutt because it looked like he was about to go after these supposed 'snakes'.
Not that the mutt was wrong. On the contrary, had Severus been slightly more awake, he would have found it funny how, yet again, the dark-hating Sirius Black had been the one to predict and analyse the dark faction's thinking and motivation. Almost as if he had been born and raised to be a part of that faction, and as Reggie used to say - The Blacks are not just members of the dark faction, they are the leaders, the foundation, the very core.
But Severus tried not to think too much about Reggie, especially not when the fleecy mutt was leaning against the door. He was glad the idiot kept dressing like a homeless muggle and refused to brush his hair, this way, there was no way to mistake him for his brother, even from a distance.
"What do you think, Severus?" Albus had asked, and with everyone's eyes on him, the potions master realised he had missed a part of the conversation. He tried to go through his mindscape to fill some of the gaps, but all he got was more discussions on the trial and the Potter brat.
Severus had questioned for the dozenth time why exactly he had been dragged here at seven in the morning. He had conveyed all the information from the Death Eater meeting with Albus right after he got back. Meaning the Headmaster knew everything Severus had learned and that he had nothing new to add. Well, nothing but ask yet again why they don't just pull the brat out of Hogwarts and actually protect him.
At that very moment, Severus was standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, wishing this day would end already. Because he knew that if he spoke truthfully, it would only lead to more shouting. No doubt the mutt would start screeching like his harpy of a mother. No, the truth was not really an option, so he told them what they already knew.
"This trial has nothing to do with underage magic, it's a chance to undermine the Headmaster. This is the outcome of Fudge's vendetta that the dark faction is taking advantage of." There - that should be enough to let him finish his food in peace. And no, he would never admit that he had agreed with the fleece-infested mutt.
Molly had outdone herself, these eggs were quite good. Severus tried not to gulp them down too quickly because he was most certainly not getting up and going to the middle of the room for seconds.
The Order members continued to discuss the trial as though any of their debates truly mattered. But that was typical for them, the Order was great about debating and analysing and not so successful at taking action. Somewhere at the back of his mind, there was an ironic comparison to the Death Eater meetings.
Shacklebolt's semi-interesting comment made him pay attention, "We can use this trial to work on the light faction. Some of them are still on the fence, they want to believe Fudge and bury their hands in the sand. The MacMillans, the Clearwaters, the Abbotts, Merlin, even my uncle. They all need a push. And maybe we can even get Amelia to hear us out." There were various reactions to this statement, all of which were loud and, therefore, obnoxious. Mad-Eye was grumbling about how these families were all cowards and could not be trusted. The mutt was shouting that this was his godson's life and not the time to push a political agenda.
Severus could agree with the Auror's sentiment, but he did not think the light faction would be of much use. The moment everyone accepted the Dark Lord was back, there was no incentive for him to keep to the shadows. Meaning that forcing the light faction to open their eyes would lead to more destructive and deadly combat.
The truth was that the light faction was not ready for another war. Their numbers were depleted: with the Longbottom, Meadow, and Potter lines dwindling and the McKinnons, Crouchs, and Prewetts gone, their best fighters were out. Plus, unlike the grey and dark factions, the light did not have a generational focus on offensive magic.
In other words, Severus did not see the benefit of focusing on the light pureblood families. It would be one thing if the Order needed money, but the Black bottomless coffers were doing the job well enough. Severus was refusing to think that, technically, that was Reggie's inheritance. That bloody Mundungus Fletcher was getting to profit from Reggie's…. Breathe… occlude.
"I believe that," started Albus, silencing all other comments and side discussions, "we have gained some valuable insight today. Harry's trial will show the Ministry's true colours, and perhaps just maybe we can indeed -" But he did not get to finish because a voice from the fireplace interrupted him.
"Padfoot? Is anyone there?" asked a familiar voice and people around the fireplace moved to allow better access. Severus tried not to scoff at the ridiculous nickname, and some still believed that it was a good code name. It was not.
"We are all here, Ted" responded Albus, "Is everything alright?"
Ah, Ted Tonks. Severus did not mind the man, he was hardworking and far too focused on his work at St. Mungo's to be an active Order member. In all honesty, all the Tonkses were fairly tolerable. Even the daughter, but only when she was away from the mutt and most definitely far away from any cauldrons. He shuddered at the memories.
Tonks's face appeared in the fireplace, and even from here, it was clear he was having a long shift. Perhaps they had more in common than he had thought. "An hour ago, they brought in a girl that I thought you might want to know about." Tonks looked around but seemed to relax when he found a pink-haired witch.
"Is she okay?" asked Molly, already going into her protective mode.
"A Muggleborn?" asked the dark-skinned Auror, no doubt thinking about the case he could open.
"Not sure," Tonks looked behind his shoulder, probably checking if he was still alone. "Judging by her clothes, I would say no, but not sure. But Albus… you should act fast, rumours are bound to spread."
That made everyone tense up. With the Daily Profits' obsession with Albus and the Potter brat, 'rumours' were unlikely to be anything good. Also, Tonks was rarely this flustered, as one of St. Mungo's best Healers, he was normally calm and collected.
Albus seemed to sense the tension in the room and asked him for details, "Start from the beginning."
After a few seconds of silence, Tonks began, "The girl was found in a field near Norwich," and Severus reminded himself to keep occluding. It was a mere coincidence that a few days ago, he had received a letter from his grandfather, who lived close to Norwich. Focus. "She had severe core damage and other wounds, but that's confidential." The potions master was certain that all this was supposed to be confidential, and Tonks was usually not one to gossip. This must be important.
"She was fading in and out of consciousness when they brought her. We tried to get some information about what happened and who to contact. She only managed three words before the pain got too much." Tonks swallowed nervously, and everyone was at the edge of their seats.
"The poor girl!" exclaimed Molly with her hand on her heart.
Tonks continued in a whisper. "She said… Lily Evans and Black."
The mutt, who must have been taking a sip, spat out his drink. Such an uncouth Gryffindor.
The wolf was gaping with his mouth open, and even Mad-Eye looked perplexed. Or maybe he was just having a stroke - if only Severus could be that lucky.
He did not understand why they were acting like this! It was just names. Just names. He kept saying to himself, unable to feel much of anything.
Ah, he had occluded too hard again. Severus lowered his mental shields the tiniest bit and was still drowned under a wave of raw and unprocessed emotions. He hated it when that happened, but this was the unavoidable side effect of ignoring his emotions for days at a time.
There was the anger, the frustration, the pain, the damned loneliness. He was struggling to breathe but could not afford to lose it in front of these people.
Lily. An image of red hair flowing in the wind. Lily. A memory of the most brilliant smile that had made him forget about the bruises on his body. Lily. Those green eyes, powerful enough to bring down his strongest mental shields. The memory of them near the river, promising to always be friends, fueled his Patronus.
Lily Evans. Not Potter.
Lily would be terrified to learn how she had been reduced to a mother dying for her son and an extension of her husband - all in the name of presenting her as the Light side's martyr. Most people chose to forget that Lily Evans had been one of the brightest minds of their generation, she had started shaking the foundations of the Charms community even before having the chance to complete her Mastery. That was not all.
There was also the fact that the Light side had glossed over the fact that Lily had never shied from grey or even dark magic. Yes, she had hated the Death Eaters, but that had nothing to do with their magical cores and everything to do with their use of magic to hurt others. Like most muggleborns, Lily Evans had been a grey witch, and she had been insanely proud of that fact. She had argued against banning entire branches of magic, and he had no doubt that without the war - Lily would have been a strong opponent of Albus's pro-Light policies.
So when most people said Lily's name, they were not referring to the real Lily Evans, but some two-dimensional distortion. The real Lily had been a living flame, always burning with energy and passion. She had hated and loved equally as strongly and would burn the world for those she considered hers.
Lily Evans. Never Potter.
He wanted to scream at the world that she never agreed to take on that swine's last name. But, of course, she would not. Anyone who had met Bryony Evans knew she raised her daughters to be independent and never let themselves be defined by men. She hated being called 'Ms Evans' and swore that the moment it became legal for women not to take their husband's name, she was going straight to the courthouse.
The Lily he knew would never change her name for some boy. And despite everything that happened between them, Severus was willing to bet everything he owned, all his potion patents and spell creations - even his magic - that Lily had not wanted to change her name, but Potter had tried to convince her that a pureblood name would protect her. He could imagine Lily's ice gaze at that statement and tried not to smile. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Lily had pursed her lips and informed the spoiled waste of space that a new name would not be enough. Thank you very much.
Severus even had proof that as of January 1981, Lily was still using Evans. But that was tucked in the same box as his memories of Regulus, which will be examined at a later date, down, down, down the line.
"Lily Evans, you are certain?" asked Albus, and Severus realised he had to pay attention. Occlude. And just like that, Lily's eyes were gone.
"Yes … she … she looks like her," announced Ted, and Severus had to grit his teeth to keep the images of Lily at bay.
Albus stroked his chin, deep in thought. The mutt, to no one's surprise, had the composure of a toddler and wanted to know, "She asked for me?" With his large eyes and fidgeting movement he did resemble a dog.
Tonks, clearly wanting to go back to work, just responded with, "She did say, Black." The mutt actually smiled. What in Morgana's name was wrong with him?! Severus wanted to yell at him that he was the most conceited person he had ever met, and he was friends with Lucious, which was saying a lot.
Before the mutt could add any other idiotic remark, Albus announced, "We must investigate."