The Amulet

Severus apparated to the gates of the Lestrange Mansion. It was getting dark. He had no idea he spent so long within Gringotts. He was exhausted, and the night hadn’t even started. It was a long day overall for him, and he felt drained. He hoped he could maintain his occlumency shields when the time came. All that was left of him was the anxious energy he used to repeat the mantra the Goblin, Heelgrip, informed him of. He didn’t understand the language, the spell wasn’t in the traditional Latin he was used to, but the spy broke down what he thought he heard and wrote it down on a piece of parchment paper, verifying the sounds with the goblin. He pulled out that same sheet from his pocket again to make sure he pinned down the pronunciation before he began to walk towards the Lestrange garden.

He started to notice signs of some sort of party, several ritual circles were drawn on the ground a distance away from the gathering, and Severus almost sighed in relief at the lack of bloodshed. A sense of dread came instead when he heard the Dark Lord to his right in the maze entrance, speaking to a chubby man, who squeaked and looked down when the Dark Lord met his eyes.

“We should leave tonight. Tell me the address again, Wormtail. There can be no mistake.”

Wormtail? Where had he heard that before?

The man named Wormtail bent at the waist as he spoke the address. The Dark Lord’s smile looked too large for his handsome face. He guided his follower’s chin to meet his eyes. Severus winced in empathy as if he, too, were experiencing the Dark Lord’s painful session of Legilimency. The Dark Lord held out a hand, and as if an unspoken command were uttered, the squeaky man transformed in front of his very eyes into a rat and hopped onto the palm of the Dark Lord’s hand. An Animagus? He didn’t envy the man. If he failed to meet the Dark Lord’s expectations, he could easily be crushed by the hands that held him.

“To the Potters then,” the Dark Lord said to the rat before he disapparated.

Severus's heart leapt to his throat. Convenient, this was all very convenient, it was as if it was fated, that he was there meant to hear this exchanged when all his initial plans failed. Oh, blast! What was the address again? He’s never been to Godric’s Hollow, but he knew the general location of the village. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Three apparations later, five minutes had passed when Severus finally found Potter’s Cottage, the cottage was dark and quiet. He traced the side of the house to look for the door when he finally found it ajar, and James Potter was lying on the ground vacantly staring at him.

“Step aside, you silly girl!” He heard the Dark Lord hiss from the floor above him. Severus held his wand in one hand and fished for the amulet to hold in the other. He would have to use all his cunning for everyone to survive the night. He went up the stairs two steps at a time, and when he pushed open the door, he was met with the Dark Lord’s wand.

“My Lord!” He bowed his head, focusing on the task and not the green eyes judging him from the corner of the room.

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed, and he jabbed the end of it at his temple.

“Tell me, Severus. How did you find this place?”

“Through Lily,” he waved at the woman in the corner without looking at her. “She told me this morning.”

The Dark Lord grew suspicious, “She told you?”

Severus stumbled over his words.  That’s right. The Potters had a secret keeper. “Well, rather, she handed me a note with the address.” Through his peripheral, he could see Lily sidestepping to the left, Severus held up a hand to still her, and the Dark Lord swung around to point the wand at her before returning to face Severus again.

“And why would she do that?”

“The boy, he’s not Potter’s.” Severus raised his eyes to meet the Dark Lord’s brown, “he’s my son.”

He could hear a pin drop, it was so silent. The Dark Lord probed his mind skimming the surface for lies. He would find none. Severus had already convinced himself that he had already cast the blood ritual, and the boy was already his son. In his mind, he had already did it, all that was left to do was actually do it.

“You see, my Lord. There is no way that my son could be a child of the prophecy. I have not defied you.”

Based on The Dark Lord’s expression, he was not pleased, he could tell the man’s patience was wearing thin, and he was seconds away from murdering them all.

“But just in case you find fault in me, I will present you my son.”

“No!” It was the first she spoke since he arrived, and his heart filled with guilt as he stupefied her blankly, showing no expression.

“You see, my Lord. I am but your loyal servant. Had I known you wanted to be here tonight, I could have brought my son to you instead.”

“But your son, Severus. Don’t you feel anything?” Even though the Dark Lord’s face projected false concern, the malice and pleased look in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.

“No, my Lord. I had no idea he was mine until recently.” He sent a look to Lily, who was sprawled face down on the floor, red wavy hair fanned over her face. “With a couple of memory charms, and a potion to nudge her in the right direction, we will make more.” Severus met the Dark Lord’s eyes. “As long as your offer to keep her alive still stands?”

Brown eyes glimmered in approval and understanding. “As you see, I grant my most loyal rewards.”

Severus bowed his head and turned to face his soon-to-be son. He discreetly sliced his hand with his wand, and as he neared, he nicked the babe’s palm. The boy’s eyes watered, and he whimpered in response as Severus muttered the spell to the blood ritual, and in one swift movement, using his body as cover, he hung the medallion over the babe’s head and tucked the amulet under the clothing as he picked him up and turned to face his Dark Master, the child in hand.

“What were you whispering when you neared the boy?”

“Finite Incantatem,” Severus said blankly. “Lily charmed the boy to look like Potter, and I thought it would be fitting if my own son were to stand before you and serve as a sacrifice, he would do so using his own face. It would be our family’s gift to you, not Potter’s.” He raised the babe until he was at eye level with the Dark Lord.

For a moment, the Dark Lord said nothing; Severus’s heart raced. He hoped the ritual worked.

“He looks very much like you.”

Severus almost sighed in relief. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Finite Incantatem!” The Dark Lord’s wand emitted a flash, but nothing else happened. “Hmmmm, my apologies, Severus. I had to make sure.”

The apology was fake. He still didn’t trust him, but that didn’t matter as long as the amulet worked.

“Of course, my Lord. Judge as you see fit. I am but your servant.” He sat the babe on the floor, hoping the boy wouldn’t crawl away. Severus then took a step back and flourished his hand over the baby as if presenting him to The Dark Lord.

“Very well, then Severus.” The Dark Lord raised his wand. “If you insist.”

He did not insist, but he did hope this would work.

“Avada Kedavra!”

He tried to keep his eyes open as he watched, but the flash of green light from the curse enveloped the entire room, and he could hear an ear-piercing scream from the baby causing Severus’s heart to sink. Did he fail? Was it all for nothing? The green seemed to ricochet and blast part of the nursery, exposing it to the elements. When the light cleared, all was silent, and Severus was hesitant to move towards the direction of any of the bodies lying on the floor until the dust cleared. He froze when he heard an inhumane hissing sound and felt more than saw a spectre float away. With a wave of his wand, he could finally see the aftermath. The Dark Lord laid with eyes and mouth wide open as if frozen in shock, and in front of him laid the small crumbled body of his son. He knelt behind the babe, heart thundering in anticipation. Did it work? Did he live? Oh no!

Blood pooled by his son’s head, and he found himself begging to any entity that would hear that the boy would live. He picked up the babe and cradled him to his chest, hugging him firmly to himself before chubby little arms fussed and pushed him away. He smiled in relief as he adjusted to cradle the babe on his forearm and finally looked down at his son's face.

He’s beautiful. He looks way better than he did when he was Potter’s baby.

The boy didn’t feel the same sentiment, and his bottom lip wobbled in pain and tears collected at the brim of his green eyes.

“Shhh shhh shhh,” he tried rocking him, but Severus had no idea what he was doing.

Movement from his peripheral caught his attention as a fat rat scuttered out of the pocket of the Dark Lord’s robe and towards the door. Severus cast a quick Immobulous to freeze the rat in place within a bubble and followed through with a killing curse. When the curse hit, the chubby man he saw earlier in the maze was in the rat's place.

The baby began to fuss again, blood continuing to gush out of a wound on his head at an alarming rate, and Severus did the only thing he could do and chanted the only powerful healing spell he knew in panic.

“Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur,” and the boy’s blood clotted, and his wound began to knit, then it reopened only to knit again, reopen and then knit again and again.

There was so much blood. Why wasn’t it working?

“Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur,” he sang much more forcibly, emitting more power than before, the baritone of his voice carried away by the crisp wind.

The babe weakly protested before growing silent. A hand on his bicep caught his attention, and sad green eyes met his dark ones. The spell must have worn off.

“Lily,” he whispered.

She seemed to be reaching out to take the baby, and he didn’t know what possessed him, whether it was the defeated look in her eyes or his sudden fear of losing the babe, he had no idea.

“No!” He moved the boy away from her, placed him on the floor, and threw his wand until it clattered a short distance away. He hovered his hands over the babe’s forehead, and his palms tingled the familiar way they did earlier that day when the sword attached itself to his hand or when the Goblin tested his skills in the Prince Vault. He closed his eyes and could feel the flow of the boy’s blood racing through him, he could see a dark void within the babe’s forehead and concentrated on the opening the blood seeped through.

“Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur,” he chanted, and after several seconds of his palms pulsing warmly, he finally opened his eyes and almost cried in relief. The blood was clotting, and the skin was knitting itself together, but loosely, there was already a sign of a scar underneath. He tried to shake the baby awake gently, and when the boy’s emerald green eyes opened, Severus let out a long exhale. He was shortly knocked off balance when Lily shouldered him out of the way to grab the baby. She cradled the babe to her chest and allowed herself to cry. Not knowing what else to do, Severus stood and checked the Dark Lord’s pulse and the Animagus. Both were dead.

A sudden thought crossed his mind. What if more were coming? The Death Eaters have gathered tonight anyway for Samhain, and there was no secret keeper. Would they know? Would they come? He had no idea what the Dark Lord’s plan was.

Severus stood and knelt next to the sobbing redhead.

“Lily, we have to go. It’s not safe here.” He tried to push her towards the gigantic opening behind them, made by the killing curse, so they could apparate.

“No, stop,” she said weakly. “My wand.”

“Accio Lily’s wand.” A wand sped through the air and smacked into his hand. He handed it to Lily. He hugged both her and the babe to him, “I’ll lead,” he said before they disapparated with the displacement of dust.

TBC...