Where Do I Go From Here?

Snape now knew what a Horcrux was. Aberforth had personally shown him an old locket that had once belonged to none other than Salazar Slytherin. Amazed, Snape reached to touch it, and Aberforth handed it to him, explaining that the object was no longer enchanted and was therefore perfectly harmless.

That had not always been the case, though. Many years prior, Regulus Black, younger brother of Sirius and a Death Eater who wanted out of the ranks of evil that followed Voldemort, had hunted down the locket Horcrux. Where he had found the information concerning the Horcruxes and their function was a mystery, but nonetheless, the important thing was that Regulus had found a way to destory the locket, just as Dumbledore had destroyed the ring and Harry the diary. Just as Dumbledore had suffered the loss of the use of his hand, it having turned black and withered, so Regulus's left arm had been gravely damaged.

"And the biggest secret of it all," Aberforth said softly, "was that Voldemort had thought Regulus dead. He could no longer sense his presence, after all, but instead, Regulus's arm was severed, and therefore the Dark Mark was no longer a part of him."

Truly at a loss for words for a long time, Snape finally found his voice. "Is he still alive, then?"

"No one knows," Aberforth replied with a hapless shrug.

Now Snape was back in his room yet again, frowning at his reflection. Information was valuable, no doubt, but if he were to pursue the long and difficult road ahead, he needed to be prepared to travel it alone. Dumbledore was gone, and Aberforth, although rather supportive, could not fill the void that was quickly growing inside Snape's hollow chest.

He had always known that one day his life would come to this end, that he would ultimately have to sacrifice himself in the process of protecting an ungrateful child - or so that was how Snape viewed Harry Potter, even now. Promises of having the Order's allegiance fell short of their fulfillment.

"It would be too soon to tell them truth concerning you, Severus," Aberforth had said in an uncharacterically gentle voice. "Maybe in time, but for now, you must keep a low profile."

Keep a low profile, indeed. Snape was quite accustomed to doing just that, but after years and years of slithering around like a snake of its belly through the darkness of night, Snape was tired of what felt like some sort of sick game.

I'm only a pawn in this whole thing, he thought grimly. The key players have always been Albus and the Dark Lord, and Potter is the hero. My role is not finished, and I will see it through to the end - whatever that end may be.

Stay behind the scenes and help Potter - that was what he meant to do. Snape wondered why he had bothered to improve his health and appearance these past few days. Letting oneself fall to the mercy of slow death seemed so much more logical when death was already standing on the front stoop, just waiting to be invited in.