Starling

I watch helplessly behind the gates, my head turned upwards to the second story windows of the Potters' house. Bright green lights shot from every window. Dread sunk into the pit of my stomach; he got her.... But, then, the green lights were quickly followed by an unfamiliar blinding white light. I squint, my mind fighting hard to understand what this spell was. It could not have been Dark Magic....

I turned quickly to check on the unconscious Death Eater whom I had stunned earlier. Avery was sprawled on the ground, unaware that his master, the Dark Lord, was most probably in danger. Something had happened, I was sure. Never had I seen a bright white light follow the green light of the Avada Kedavra curse. Could someone have stopped him? What spell can fight back the Killing Curse and outshine its ray?

I hear someone approaching, and spinning around, I see Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of my time, approach me from the forest.

"Is everything alright, Severus?" he asks. "Voldemort has not discovered that you are spying for me, has he?" I twitch uncomfortably at the Dark Lord's name, yet I cannot suppress a small smile. Dumbledore had always worried about his army men's safety far more than the situation of the battle.

"He has not discovered me," I tell him, "but he has told us to stay behind while he go after the Potters..."

The normal twinkle in Dumbeldore's eyes subdue; there is no need for me to continue. The Dark Lord is extremely powerful and intelligent. No wizard or witch had ever survived him, and great punishment was in store for any follower who deceived him.

But that white light....

"I apologize for not be able to warn you any sooner," I tell him. Dumbledore nods understandingly.

"His meeting with the Potters was inevitable," he says simply. He walks over to the gate and swings it open before entering. I follow.

The Potter's garden is grey and still, a scent of recent death still lingering in the air. As we approach the front door, I notice a figure sprawled on the ground. I freeze in my tracks in front of him. There he lay - glassy hazel eyes wide opening - the man I hated for many years, the man who had taunted me, harassed me, and humiliated me in public for many years: James Potter.

"You were a great Auror and wizard, James," Dumbledore says in a saddened whisper as he crouches in front of him. Raising one hand, Dumbledore closes Potter's glassy eyes. I continued to stare at the man who had antagonized me, unable to think of anything to say. How does one show condolence to a bitter man?

Dumbledore stands up. "We must get going," he said, rising up and heading to the door. I feel my heart plummeted down deep into my abdominal cavity. I feared to go inside, fearful of who we were going to see next, but I obey and join him inside.

Dumbledore wastes no time and heads straight upstairs. I follow slowly, my hands becoming colder and colder by each step as we ascended. When I reached the darkened second floor landing, Dumbledore is already walking past rooms, his hand stretched out in front of him. He stops in front of the second room to the right.

"This is where the light had come from," he says, more to himself, before opening the door. I hesitate before following. All the lights in the small home had been broken by the force of the spells. In the middle of the room sat a cradle where a muffed cry issued from it. And there next to the cradle lay two figures.

The first was what appeared to be the remains of the Dark Lord, dark grey smoke issuing from collapsed black robes. Upon closer inspection, I noticed his wand seemed to have disappeared along with the body.

"Has Voldemort finally fallen?" Dumbledore said, standing opposite me. He is wearing a curious expression. I stare at the Headmaster for a while before turning my attention to the second figure -

All I was able to do was utter a pained "oh!" before nearly collapsing on the floor. I stretched out my hands and held onto the wall in efforts to keep myself from falling. The bones in my leg seemed to had vaporized and leave me. My eyes could not tear away from her - the woman I dearly loved - Lily.

"Lily Potter," Dumbledore says, crouching in front of her as he had done with James Potter. Unlike her husband, Lily's eyes were shut, disallowing me to see the brilliant green eyes of hers ever again. Dumbledore strokes her hair gently for a while before getting up again.

"She has done a most noble thing," Dumbledore announces in a grave voice, "she has sacrificed her life for another wizard, a very young wizard."

"Lily defeated the Dark Lord?" I question aloud, amazed to hear this. Dumbledore doe not answer me, but he moves to the cradle. Gathering up my strength, I join him to look at the inhabitant of the crib.

It was very tiny thing and a little over a year old. It hid underneath the soft blue layers of its blankets, only its forehead exposed, blood issuing from a terrible deep cut on the right. Upon closer examination, I could see that the cut was shaped like a lightening bolt. It cried frightfully, its tiny arms flailing out from its sides.

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore says, "the boy who lived." He sighs and sticks his arms into the cradle. He grabs hold of the baby and raises it up. The boy cried harder, raising its voice to an ear-deafening level. I screw up my eyes against its wails, staring at the infant with disgust; I abhorred inadequate creatures like this infant.

"Shhh," Dumbledore soothes him, resting the baby against his chest and stroking the child's hair with one free hand. When the infant doesn't cease its crying, Dumbledore gently pats it near its bottom, where a picture of a baby bird is stitched on. He turns his attention to the lifeless form of the Dark Lord.

"He is not completely dead," he informs me. "Only reduced to the slightest life form. He has escaped, but it will be a very long time before he can regain his power." I nod. "No surprise news of this attack will spread once it touches one of our kind's ears. Young Harry may be safe from Voldemort in the time being, but Voldemort's followers will be after him. I must go and report the death to the rest of the Order. Stay here with him; I will send Hagrid later tonight to retrieve him." I nod reluctantly as Dumbledore relieves himself of the boy into my arms. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. He wipes the boy's blood-drenched forehead with it.

"Good luck," he tells me as he goes out the door, leaving me with the Potters' weeping son. I look around the room, a sick feeling in my stomach. For a couple hours I will be trapped here, holding a disgusting, slobbering organism in my hands while the remains of the Dark Lord and his mother - my dear Lily - lay right next to my feet.

I look down at the peculiar being. It looked nothing like what Muggle systematic scientists call a Homo sapien: its head was bigger in proportion to its body; its body felt odd as though it was nothing more than a water-filled clothe bag; and its fingers were ridiculously small, almost nonexistent.

I located a rocking chair in the far corner of the room and settled down on it. I adjusted the boy to rest against my chest, trying to imitate Dumbledore as he had done a couple minutes earlier. I rock slightly in attempts to quiet the child down. I shivered slightly at the feeling of unwelcome and forbiddances hovering above me.

The baby quiets down and wiggles in my arms for a while before laying still. He has stopped crying and was now watching me with slight curiosity. My eyes grow wide the moment he opened his eyes at last: they were brilliant green, just like his mother, just like Lily.

He sticks his hand out and tries to grab onto some of my shoulder-length hair. I was ready to throw the child off me as I am not used to such close contact. I catch myself early, assuring myself that the boy will not harm me; he did not understand what it meant to hurt someone. I relax and allow the boy to do whatever he pleases. After successfully grabbing hold of some strands, he pulls it towards him, attempting to put in into his tiny mouth. I gently pry my hair away from his hold, communicating to him that the game was over; I am very certain human hair isn't an appropriate feed for a small child. The boy let out a shrill whine of disappointment before turning his attention to my fingers.

He grabs each one in turn, sticking them into his mouth, sucking, and pulling them out again before doing the same to the next finger. I watch with one eyebrow raised, wondering what the child was up to now with this unusual play. I suddenly realized that he must be hungry, and that his putting in and sucking of my fingers meant he was searching for milk. However, with my lack of knowledge on childrearing I did not dare attempt to feed him for the worry that I may incorrectly prepare his milk. Instead I go back to rocking, the child grasping my robes, now whimpering and begging to be feed. I ignore him; my eyes travel back to Lily's body on the floor.

Would things have turned differently had I married Lily? My Lily, who had always stood by me during Potter's abuse, and much as I had shown resentment to having a Muggle-born girl defend me, deep inside I was very glad that she did not resent my existence.

And yet she married Potter. Bloody James Potter. And together they had this boy, Harry Potter.

A little whine issued from the boy, bringing me back to the present world. I observe the child closely. His eyes where just like his mother's; bright, green, no hint of influence from Potter. And, yet the tiny hair on top of his head was black.

Black hair. Like James Potter. But, also like my hair....

An idea began to fog in my mind. With both his parents dead, where was this child to go? To Sirius Black: his godfather? Oh, no, he was the Potter's Secret Keeper, and yet he had turned traitor. Dumbledore would never send the boy to him!

Perhaps.... perhaps I could take care of him. With a little reading on childrearing, I can care for him. I will teach him how to read, write, and count. Even better, I could undo the mistakes my father had done and show the child the love and appreciation my father had never shown to me. I will never lay a violent hand on him; any wrong from his doing will be served through lectures and not abuse.

But, the best of all was this: I will finally have the son I've always yearned to have with Lily....

I stand up suddenly, this fresh idea burning excitedly in my brain. I will finally have Lily's child, never mind that half of his forty-six chromosomes came from Potter…. I will not tell him. I will not tell him of his true father; his arrogant, despicable father. He will not have any proof, besides. His hair is black, like mine, and he will grow to adopt my mannerism. I will hide his scar with a simple congealing charm….. I can save him from his treacherous father. He will not be Harry Potter, but my son. Mine and Lily's son.

But, oh, I wondered as I affectionately stroked the boy's hair, Harry Snape would truly be an odd name. No doubt it was Potter who named him as he always enjoyed to be given such honors, and no doubt he has not given any serious consideration in finding a good name. Harry.... what a disgusting, Muggle, Potter-like name.

I looked down into the boy's eyes, wondering what I would have named him had he been my son - correction, now that he is my son. It was then that my eyes fell back to the picture of the bird stitched near the bottom of his clothes.

A bird....

"Starling," I suddenly say, my voice cutting into the room. I smile. Yes: Starling Snape. The boy was indeed very much like a bird: tiny; light-weight, easily-breakable bones; large, wide, innocent eyes....

I bring my beautiful, precious Starling closer to me, wrapping my arms around him possessively. The emptiness in my heart was becoming filled with an emotion I was not very familiar with. I must see Dumbledore at once! Surely he will appoint me his foster father; he has full trust in me, very fully trust in me....

My eyes suddenly linger to the outside from the only window in the room. Who is that coming out of the forest? I crane my neck to get a better look. Hagrid, a large wide man, a member of the Order, was stepping out from between the last two tree barks that divided this providence from the woods.

I watch as he makes his way to this home. My grip on Starling tightens; no, please don't take him, a part of me screams. He is mine. He's the only chance of me having the child I longed to have with Lily....

Heavy footsteps echo throughout the house as he entered the front door, passed the kitchen, climbed up the staircases, and prowled through the second story landing. My knees buckle, though for what reason it took me a few moments to register: fear. I feared losing this child. My heart is about to burst from being overfilled with many emotions: fear, sadness, love…. His footsteps finally reach the door. He turns the doorknob and enters.

" 'ello, Professor Snape, sir," he greets me, a ting of sadness clinging to his words. He looks down at the lifeless body of Lily for a moment before going back to me.

"Yeh got little 'arry 'ere?" he asks and I, suddenly realizing just how tight I was holding the child, quickly loosened my grip. I pushed the baby away from me and into the giant's massive arms.

"Take him," I say in an as convincingly cold and unconcerned tone as I can muster. "He was a great burden to look after in such a limited time, but I am sure the Wizardry family who volunteered to take him in would be more than glad to spend their tedious hours pampering him."

" 'e is not going to a magic family," Hagrid says, " 'e will be with his Muggle aunt and uncle in Surrey. Professor Dumbledore told me so before I came here."

"Oh?" I say, raising my eyebrows. I sit back down on the rocking chair and face the window, rocking slightly back and forth. Another emotion was starting to boil, a much more negative emotion then the one I felt as I held my precious Starling.

"Great. Muggles," I say, fighting terribly hard with myself not to explode. "Pleasant. It's just what he needs: a Muggle family to treat him like a messiah of some sort. Great. Sweet. Damn bloody wonderful." My lips tremble slightly....

Only once had Hagrid seen me cry. It was in my first year after I was brutally harassed by Potter and his henchmen. They're sickening game resulted in me getting my only school robes stained in mud, dragon manure, and unicorn urine. I was mortified of what my father would do to me when I send him the letter explaining I needed new robes; robes were very expensive and my family was very poor. Hagrid the groundskeeper, bless him, took me into his cabin and offered to wash and dry my robes for me; I never had to send that letter and thus face my father and his crushing fists. I spent the rest of that evening sitting on Hagrid's gigantic bed in my undergarments, wrapped around his large patched blanket, sipping hot tea and wiping away my tears while Hagrid busied himself with my soiled robes. Ever since then, he never mentioned that day, saving me the humiliation from my peers. He never said anything about me crying, which was the only time I had ever cried in front of someone other than my mother. But now as I sit and rock on my chair, I feel the same urge to cry but not from humiliation and having excrement thrown at me, but from the sheer feeling that I was losing Lily again....

Hagrid apparently sensed the turmoil raging in my damaged heart because he then says, "Well, er, it's Dumbledore's orders, and I'm sure he's got little 'arry's best interest at heart. And, it's not like we won't see 'im again. He'll come to Hogwarts, 'e'll be yeh student, and… and…" He looked around quickly for anything else to add. "And, and it's not good to lie aroun' a place that has many dead people in it. Many folks will be comin' here to see what's 'appened."

"Yes, you are right," I say, turning my attention to Lily's body. Hagrid was now inspecting the collapsed form of the late Dark Lord, looking green and frightened at the same time.

"You better get going now," I tell him as I get back on my feet. "The other Death Eaters will be here the moment they hear of the news of the Dark Lord's fall. I must destroy everything so that they cannot retrieve anything from the Potters."

"Destroy?" Hagrid says, sounding shocked.

"The Potters have many artifacts the Death Eaters will no doubt find attractive and will want to use in their dark deeds."

"s'ould we at least take out Lily's and James' bodies?" he asks. I shake my head.

"Even their bodies can be used for ill. Now, leave at once!"

Hagrid nods, deciding to go with my suggestion. He walks over to Starling's crib, picks up the blanket there and wraps it around Starling.

"Well, I better be goin' then," he says before existing the room. I watch him, a strong urge swelling in me to call him back, to ask if I can hold Starling one more time. He will understand; he has seen me in my weakest state before, surely he will understand. But no matter how many times I open my mouth, I could not let out a sound. When I heard the front door's slam, I knew I had lost my last chance in being with Lily again.

The room feels very cold suddenly, very cold and uninviting. It was as though Starling's presence affected the house's mood. I walk to the door, turning around to look one more time at the collapsed form of Lily.

"Good bye, Lily," I whisper before taking out my wand and chanting the spell to release fire into the room. I watch sadly as the sparks from my wand strikes the baby crib and immediately go into flames. Lily's body would soon be met with a similar fate....

I leave the landing, not wanting to see what else will happen. My lungs and heart are drowned in deep sorrow. Tonight I have lost Lily twice. My Lily defeated the Dark Lord, but to do this she had to die. And just now, I could have had the chance to be with Lily again through her son. But, as much as I wanted to, I did not take him. I could have saved him from the arrogance of his father, but now he will be spoiled rotten till his head becomes too large and heavy to be supported by just his neck. Even if I will be seeing him again ten years from now when he becomes my pupil, he will have changed and become a person I do not want him to be.

As I reach the front door, I realize how much I loved the little boy. I will miss him and our time together tonight as much as I will forever miss Lily. I could have been an excellent father for him.

Lily's Harry.

My Starling.