"Snape..."
Harry stared at what was happening in utter disbelief.
Severus Snape was kneeling beside him, wand raised, doing everything he could to heal the wound on Harry's wrist.
Then he poured a small vial of potion over it.
A cool, clean sensation spread through the gash. It felt unbelievably soothing. At the same time, strength began slowly returning to Harry's body.
The Petrification Curse had been lifted as well. At the very least, Harry could move again.
There was no doubt about it.
All of this was because of Snape.
"Why?" Harry asked, still staring at him as if he couldn't believe his own eyes.
A moment ago, when death had been right in front of him, Harry had imagined all kinds of ways he might be saved. He had imagined Jon arriving at the last second. He had imagined Sirius and Remus finding him before You-Know-Who could return. He had even imagined his wand saving his life one more time.
But never, not once, had he imagined that the person saving him would be Severus Snape.
"Stand behind me, Potter," Snape said coldly.
He lifted his chin and raised his wand toward the cauldron.
"How is this even possible..."
Harry's head felt light and muddled.
Snape's back was not broad, but standing there now, it felt impossibly steady, as if it could shield him from anything.
Could it be...
Could Professor Snape... have been one of the good guys all along?
The thought burst into Harry's mind without warning.
In first year, Snape had been dealing with Quirrell. When Harry had nearly fallen from his broom because of Quirrell's curse, Snape had been the one using a counter-curse to save him.
In second year, when he heard that Muggle students at Hogwarts had been attacked by the Basilisk, Harry had seen unmistakable pain on his face.
In third year, when the werewolf had come howling toward them, Snape had stood in front of him, Ron, and Hermione.
In fourth year, Snape had shown Fudge the Dark Mark on his arm and revealed Voldemort's return.
In fifth year, he had been one of the Order of the Phoenix, and he had brought word to the Order that Harry and the others had gone to the Ministry.
Then what about sixth year...?
Did Professor Albus Dumbledore's death really have anything to do with Snape?
Or had there been something else hidden behind it all?
Harry's thoughts tangled into a mess.
A complete mess.
Right now, he almost wished someone would cast Legilimency on him and sort through his head for him.
His brain felt completely inadequate. If only Hermione were here. With Hermione's brains, she would definitely have noticed something.
As Harry's thoughts spiraled out of control, a sudden chill ran down his spine.
Steam was beginning to rise from the cauldron.
The smoke slowly thinned, and a man's dark figure emerged from within. He was tall and gaunt, like a living skeleton.
That nightmare of a face was even paler than bone. His eyes were huge and red, his nose flat like a snake's, his nostrils nothing more than narrow slits.
Voldemort had returned once again.
"At last... I have returned!"
The voice that cut through the smoke was cold and high and sharp.
As he spoke, Voldemort began examining his new body. His hands were like pale spiders. Long, white fingers slid over his chest, his arms, his face. His red eyes gleamed brighter in the dark, the pupils narrowed to slits. He raised both hands and flexed his fingers, delirious with pleasure.
"What a wonderful feeling."
The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, his eyes fixed on Harry's side of the room.
Then his expression shifted slightly.
And for some reason, Harry suddenly felt that this Voldemort was nowhere near as terrifying as the one who had returned two years ago. The pressure rolling off him was weaker. The power he displayed felt lacking. Even his appearance was not as frightening as before.
Snape stood absolutely still between Harry and Voldemort.
"Severus, what are you doing?" Voldemort asked coldly, standing in his newly restored body.
Snape did not answer.
He simply kept his wand raised, aimed straight at the former Dark Lord.
"Severus..." There was sudden panic in Voldemort's voice. "Move aside... let me kill the boy... let me kill Harry Potter!"
Snape's answer was only one word.
"Never."
...
"So you've betrayed me too..."
"Then I'll kill you along with him!"
Voldemort roared in fury.
Just a minute earlier, he had still been exulting in the thought of taking the entire wizarding world and killing Jon Hart.
But it had not taken long for him to realize that everything had only been a dream.
More accurately, none of it had happened at all.
He was still in the black forest of Albania, and he had only just regained his body.
And the moment he tried to kill Harry Potter, just as he had in the dream, to vent the rage that had built up over sixteen years...
Severus Snape, the Death Eater Voldemort had always believed to be his most loyal servant, had stepped onto the opposite side.
Voldemort could not understand what he was seeing.
It was too absurd.
"I'm afraid you won't get the chance, Tom."
A calm voice suddenly came from behind him.
It was close.
Very close.
Less than ten yards behind him.
Voldemort's face changed instantly.
Part of it was shock. He could hardly believe a wizard had managed to come that close behind him without him noticing a thing. For a battle-hardened Dark Lord, this was the first time he had ever encountered something like this, and for a moment, Voldemort was genuinely stunned.
The other part was the voice itself.
Its owner was none other than Jon Hart, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"It's Jon!"
Behind Snape, Harry Potter let out a long breath of relief the instant he heard that voice.
And Hart was not alone.
Alastor Moody, the Auror who had once badly wounded Voldemort in an earlier battle, limped to Jon's side with his cane.
On Jon other side stood Arthur Weasley, Ministry employee and member of the Order of the Phoenix.
On the left flank, Remus Lupin had already moved into position, the half-blood werewolf watching Voldemort with a cold, unreadable face.
On the right, a huge black dog twisted back into human form, and Sirius Black raised his wand.
Every wand in the clearing was pointed directly at Voldemort.
And facing the Dark Lord, newly "returned" once again, not one of them showed the slightest trace of fear.