FANDOM: Harry Potter


[A Harry Potter fanfiction story. Set post-HBP/Pre-DH.] Snape has been arrested for Dumbledore's murder and remanded to Azkaban when Lupin pays him an untoward visit. Will Snape find redemption with Lupin's help?


All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Dreams haunted Snape in the deep of the night as he slept fitfully; scenes which had been replaying before his eyes relentlessly every night. So great was his desperation that given the chance he might have bargained with the devil to make it stop. But the devil was callously cruel and afforded Snape no such luxury. The devil preferred to delight in watching him suffer.

It played before his eyes in a sequence of snatches and flashes. First the Astronomy tower back at Hogwarts. Dumbledore stood before him, expecting him to carry out their plan. When Snape’s gaze fell on the old man’s face, he just could not do it. Dumbledore flashed him a pleading look, a look that said “please, just do it. You promised”. Hating himself, sure his self-loathing was etched into the contours of his face, he raised his wand and before he knew what had happened the incantation had fallen out of his mouth and his mentor had tumbled backwards, spread-eagled almost comically in mid-air.


Now he was kneeling, giving the news that Dumbledore had died and that it had been at his hand. He hardly dared to look up at the snake-faced man before him, terrified that if the Dark Lord looked into his eyes he would know the broiling nauseating grief that churned his insides.


Surrounded by a group of Death Eaters, Snape shouted directions. The plan had been bungled and Death Eaters were disapparating in all directions. Most of them got away, but Snape couldn’t shift his thoughts from Dumbledore, and in his grief his usual precautions had been thrown to the wind. Spells were being thrown at him from all directions, now, casting him down to the ground. Thinking only of how pointless it was to fight back, and that perhaps it might even free him from the terrible predicament he was in, he let it come.

A sharp banging on the door woke him from his restless slumber, shocking him into a sort of disoriented consciousness. After a moment or two, once the disorientation began to pass and the reality of his circumstances began to set in again, he made out a voice which was shouting; “UP! GET UP! YOU HAVE A VISITOR!”

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