Consequences (Part 1)
It had been a week since Severus had given the interview, and eight days since he had slain Voldemort. He sat in the living room, meticulously reviewing the final draft of his own potions book. He hadn't decided on a name for it yet, but the work provided him with a sense of purpose. In the kitchen, Petunia was preparing breakfast, humming softly to herself. Living with Petunia had brought Severus a sense of calm he had never anticipated. He had always believed that a quiet life would stifle him, that his ambitious nature would never allow him to settle. Yet, he had never felt happier.
He allowed himself to dream that his days would continue like this—working on new potions or spells, while Petunia pursued her career in the Muggle world, establishing herself as a successful, independent woman.
But dreams, he reminded himself, are often fleeting. As if to punctuate this thought, he felt a disturbance in the wards surrounding the house. Someone unwelcome had crossed them. Severus immediately stood from the sofa, his expression hardening. He gestured for Petunia to hide in their room, and she complied without question, sensing the gravity of the situation.
KnockKnock
Severus opened the door to find a man clad in yellow and golden robes, his long white beard flowing down to his chest, and eyes that sparkled with an infuriating twinkle. Albus Dumbledore stood on his doorstep.
"Hello, Severus," Dumbledore said warmly, as if no time had passed. "It has been quite some time, hasn't it?"
Without a word, Severus slammed the door in the old man’s face, hoping it would deter him from further attempts to intrude. But deep down, he knew Dumbledore wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded.
“Severus, please,” came Dumbledore’s voice from the other side, slightly exasperated. “It’s about Voldemort.”
Severus hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “What about him? He’s dead now. You’re welcome.”
“The Dark Lord will return, Severus. That is what we need to discuss.”
Severus slowly opened the door, his eyes narrowing as he studied Dumbledore’s face.
“May I come in?” the old man asked kindly.
Severus nodded reluctantly, stepping aside to let Dumbledore enter. “Your actions have firmly placed you against him in this war, Severus. You cannot avoid the consequences that come with such a... bold statement.”
“There is no ‘my place’ in this war,” Severus replied, his tone cold and detached. “The bastard couldn’t take no for an answer, and he died for it. I’m not going to make things worse for myself by aligning with you, of all people. If I do, the Death Eaters will hunt me down even more ruthlessly than before, and I’ll end up as cannon fodder for your so-called ‘greater good.’” His eyes were full of distrust, a deep frown etched on his face.
“On the contrary, my boy,” Dumbledore said, his voice soft but insistent, “I believe we must work together. You clearly possess extraordinary skill if you managed to take him down as swiftly as you did. We need all the help we can get to rid the world of him once and for all, and you will play a key part in that.”
Severus crossed his arms, his mind racing. “So how exactly is he still alive? Can he regenerate even after being reduced to ash by Fiendfyre? What kind of spell can he cast without a body?”
“It’s not physical immortality,” Dumbledore explained gravely. “Voldemort has made his very soul immortal. He now roams this world as a wraith, waiting for his followers to perform an unholy ritual to restore him to a physical body. There is a reason they haven’t found you yet, Severus. They are scouring the magical world for a ritual that allows Voldemort to retain his physical body.”
Severus’s expression grew darker. “What do you know about this ritual?”
Dumbledore sighed, the weight of the situation evident in his eyes. “According to my source, the ritual hasn’t been discovered yet, neither they nor I am aware of what needs to be done. Of course either they figure out what needs to be done, revive Voldemort and he comes after you. OR they give up, blame you for the death of their master and come after you.”
Severus ignored what Dumbledore just said, feeling the manipulative intentions of his old headmaster.
“I must admit that I haven’t visited Diagon Alley much but if the death eaters were making such huge moves, some rumors would have inevitably spread. Based on that, I infer the search isn’t as widespread as you claim.”
Dumbledore relented to that “Only his close circle of followers are working towards his return at the moment, the rest of the death eaters are on the run, hiding now that their master’s protective shadow is not upon them.”
Severus suppressed a shiver as he imagined himself as a death eater on the run, a future that would have been very likely had he continued on the path he had initially found himself in. He would forever be grateful for Petunia. He doubted she knew how much of a difference she had made in his life.
Mistaking Severus’s contemplation for hesitation, Dumbledore pushed onward, attempting to sway him. “If not for yourself, at the very least, consider the predicament your paramour would be in when the Death Eaters investigate you further and discover you’re engaged to a Muggle woman. She won't be safe, Severus—not even here.”
That… that was a grave mistake.
“Out,” Severus hissed, his black eyes darkening to an almost inhuman shade. A wave of raw, oppressive magic surged through the room, thickening the air with his barely contained fury. Though his wand remained holstered, it seemed to vibrate with a dark desire—to harm, to maim, to incinerate anything in its path with a vengeance so fierce it would leave nothing but ashes in its wake.
Dumbledore, usually so composed, visibly recoiled, astonished by the sudden and terrifying change in Severus. His eyes widened, the usual twinkle extinguished by a rare flash of genuine shock.
“Now,” Severus growled, his voice low and dangerous, each syllable a warning. He took a deliberate step toward Dumbledore, every muscle in his body taut with the effort of restraint. It was a mistake to assume Dumbledore wouldn’t have investigated the promise ring that Rita Skeeter had spotted on his finger. Severus had hoped—foolishly, it seemed—that Dumbledore had come to him in haste, focused on the Death Eaters rather than prying into his personal life. But life, as always, refused to conform to his hopes.
Fear clawed at the edges of Severus’s mind—fear that Hogwarts and his own past mistakes had stolen a precious friend from him. Now, with Dumbledore’s words, all those repressed fears resurfaced, crashing over him like a tidal wave. In that moment, Severus despised the man before him more than he had ever hated James Potter.
He wanted Dumbledore gone, out of his sight, so he could think clearly—so he could plan his next move in peace, without Dumbledore’s manipulative strings pulling at his every insecurity. This war, this senseless, insipid conflict, had done nothing but make his life a living hell, and he wanted no part of it.
As Dumbledore stumbled back, recognizing the lethal danger in Severus’s eyes, Severus seized the moment. He slammed the door with a force that shook the walls, immediately activating every ward around the house to their full strength. Though he knew they were no match for Dumbledore’s magical prowess, Severus doubted the old man would push him further.
Without hesitation, Severus bolted down the hallway, his heart hammering in his chest. He needed to see Petunia, to ensure she was safe, to confirm that the darkness threatening to consume him hadn’t touched her.
He reached their room in mere seconds, flinging the door open to find Petunia sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes wide with fear and concern. The sight of her—so vulnerable, yet so precious—calmed the storm within him, if only for a moment.
“Pet,” Severus whispered urgently, crossing the room to kneel before her. He took her hands in his, gripping them firmly but gently. “Are you alright?”
Petunia nodded, though her hands trembled in his. “I heard… I heard what he said,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Sev, what are we going to do?”
Severus closed his eyes, his mind racing. He hadn’t anticipated this—hadn’t planned for any of it. But one thing was certain: he would protect Petunia, no matter the cost. Whatever Dumbledore or anyone else thought, she was his to protect.
“We’ll have to move earlier than we planned,” Severus said. His voice grew steadier than he felt. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Pet. I swear it.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he felt the tension slowly drain from his body. The immediate danger had passed, but the real battle was far from over. Now more than ever, Severus knew he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
He would protect what was his—and if anyone got in his way? They would burn.