1 Chapter 1 : Woes of a broken soul.

Read the auxiliary chapter before this for a better understanding.

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The once peaceful grounds of Hogwarts had been transformed by a battle that would be etched in the annals of history.

Amidst a torrential downpour, a dark-haired youth stood, his gaze fixed upon the lifeless body of one of the greatest dark wizards the wizarding world had ever known. Blue flames flickered menacingly, threatening to consume everything in his path.

A resounding boom filled the night air as thunder reverberated through the sky, revealing the face of the once-feared wizard who had terrorized the entire magical population of Britain for the past seven years.

Now, his lifeless form lay at the feet of the black-haired youth, Voldemort, once hailed as the greatest dark wizard of all time, was reduced to an unrecognizable, charred husk.

His once-pale, snake-like skin now resembled a roasted chicken leg, and his menacing red eyes, once filled with malice, had lost their spark.

The black-haired youth, the subject of countless tales, myths, and whispers carried on the wind, had become a legend of the recent folklore.

Many denied his existence, dismissing his influence and the dread he had instilled.

He had been given various monikers, from "Perditio Mortis" - the bringer of death's ruin, to "the harbinger of death and destruction," and even "Mors Aterna."

But one name that echoed through all those whispers was "Rex Occulutus," the hidden king.

The king who orchestrated his plans from the shadows, concealed by the seductive allure of his intricate web.

This mysterious figure just brought an end to the darkest era in the wizarding world, orchestrating the ultimate downfall of the plague known as Voldemort.

The mystery surrounding his existence captivated the minds of many, but now, finally revealing himself, he stood, gazing down at his latest conquest.

His eyes, void of the usual joy one would expect from such a victory, held an unfamiliar emptiness that threatened to consume anyone who dared to meet his gaze.

Beyond the raging fire that encircled his drenched form, the people who had fought in the war stood in awe, struggling to process the magnitude of what they had just witnessed. It was a battle that exceeded the limits of their imagination, with creatures beyond their wildest fantasies, spells they had never conceived, and forms of magic they didn't even know existed. They couldn't help but be awestruck by the battle that would forever reshape the wizarding world.

On one side of the conflict stood The Order, led by Albus Dumbledore, a group determined to halt the madman's crusade to eradicate Muggles.

The Order consisted of a brave few, including young individuals who had only just left Hogwarts, retired Aurors, Squibs, and a handful of Hogwarts teachers. They were a group that should have been no match for their adversaries, who casually tossed Unforgivable Curses as if they were basic charms.

Yet, they persevered, aided by the man past his prime and the mysterious assistance from the shadows.

Opposing them were the Death Eaters, a band of followers who embraced the madman's quest to eliminate Muggles. Some joined out of greed, others out of a twisted desire for dominance, some due to fear, and others simply sought power.

None dared to move an inch from their positions, their senses overwhelmed by the battle they had just witnessed.

Fear gripped their hearts at the mere thought of approaching the lone figure who had transformed from myth into reality.

They stared at him, their eyes filled with trepidation.

The grounds of Hogwarts were stained with blood, which flowed beneath his feet, yet it seemed to leave him unaffected.

His attention turned to the night sky, his form still and silent. Then, raising his arm high above his head, he whispered words that thundered through the area, their echoes resounding in the night air: "BEGIN!"

At his command, all hell broke loose.

The Death Eaters found themselves under attack from an unknown group, cloaked in black, emerging from the shadows.

Swiftly and effortlessly, this group overpowered and captured the stunned Death Eaters, apparating them away from the grounds of Hogwarts.

Once the Death Eaters regained their senses, they retaliated, only to be swiftly defeated by the mysterious group.

As Dumbledore and his Order prepared to intervene, their every movement was impeded by the very ground beneath them. Roots emerged, ensnaring them, rendering them immobile.

Above, swords rained from the heavens, forming a protective fortress around them. A great wall of raging blue fire encircled them, its massive tail sealing them within.

In shock, they turned their attention to the source of these events, two figures clad in blue and green descending from the sky, their identities concealed behind masks.

Finally, the dark-haired youth shifted his gaze from the lifeless ground and fixed his cold, merciless eyes upon them.

In the darkness of the night, only his eyes seemed to glow, threatening to draw them into an abyss of unknown madness.

Paralyzed with fear, no one dared to move, for they feared their sanity in his presence.

Each individual harbored different thoughts, but all shared a common fear of him, except for one.

One who regarded him with a hint of sadness.

'I have failed you.'

[Dumbledore POV]

I have borne witness to the rise of two of the most formidable dark wizards in my lifetime.

One, a manipulator who used love to sow seeds of hatred, and the other, a wretched soul who had never experienced the warmth of love.

And now, a youth barely a fraction of my age has vanquished the greatest dark wizard of all, yet he stands unaffected by the magnitude of the battle he has just fought.

Surveying the aftermath of their clash, I beheld a level of destruction, unlike anything I had witnessed before.

Creatures dragged forth from the depths of infernal realms, their malevolence staining the very air. Dark magic that defied the very essence of what magic should represent.

The esteemed halls of Hogwarts, crowned as the pinnacle of magical education, bore witness to the bloodshed and the lifeless bodies of these abominations.

This battle revealed to me the vast gaps in my understanding of the mysteries that pervade this magical world, despite my own power and wisdom.

Even the confrontation I faced with Grindelwald, notorious as it was, did not unleash such widespread devastation.

Perhaps I should have delved deeper into the realms of sorcery during my own pursuits, to unravel these enigmatic forces that shape our world.

Such frivolous thoughts.

Before the assembled crowd, the man who had just slain Tom Riddle stood tall, flames dancing around him.

He had brought an end to this bloody conflict, yet his countenance betrayed no hint of triumph.

No one knew the man who stood before them, the one who killed Tom. Ending this bloody war.

But I knew.

And I knew that I have failed.

As I observed him, drenched by the relentless rain, standing amidst this Crimson-stained earth, a sense of disappointment washed over me.

Disappointment in my own failure.

Oh, my dear boy, I tried.

I tried to shield you from the horrors of war.

Away from the malevolence that could ignite your thirst for dark arts.

And away from the fiery desire for vengeance against the injustices of this world.

Away from….

No, I have failed. I failed to stop you.

Just as I failed when I allowed those barely out of Hogwarts to join the Order.

And now, in seeing you here, alone and weathered by this relentless storm, I am filled with a deep sense of regret.

I failed to deter you from this path.

And now, they will either fear you or idolize you as their savior.

A Puppet on a golden throne.

If ever you were to succumb to the allure of darkness, it would be my burden to stop you.

But I do not know if my heart can bear witness to yet another of my students treading the same treacherous path.

I do not know if I possess the strength to stop you, for I fear that you may prove far more perilous.

Gellert, in his quest for power, employed love as a weapon to seize control. Our battle against him was fraught with difficulties, for he had amassed followers who were willing to sacrifice their very lives.

Now, I foresee the same fate befalling you. You, who have won the hearts of the people, for whom they would gladly lay down their lives.

Shaking off these thoughts of an uncertain future, I resolve to focus on the present.

The spell shields me from the rain, yet it fails to shield the pain.

[3rd POV]

The figure of their nightmares surveyed the desolate scene, the aftermath of his cataclysmic battle with Voldemort.

Pillars lay demolished, lifeless bodies drenched in crimson, and the people who gazed upon him bore fear etched in their eyes, their very beings shivering in dread.

The man's gaze turned cold as he glanced at certain members of the Order, individuals who had once tormented him, a hatred poisoning his thoughts.

But they mattered little no significance now, for he had his vengeance.

His attention then shifted to those he had saved, hoping to find at least a bit of gratitude and appreciation in their eyes. Yet, what he discovered was not admiration but a palpable fear that emanated from their trembling forms.

Finally, his gaze settled upon his former headmaster, who continued to judge him, even in the wake of his victory. Disappointment, evident in his eyes.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to embrace the soothing touch of the rain, surrendering to the serenity of the moment.

Memories flooded his mind, vivid recollections of lives he has taken.

Of the chaos, he had sown.

But amidst this turbulent mental landscape, one memory stood out—the day of his first murder.

The murder that changed him forever.

The murder that broke his fate, one that forced him to find his destiny.

And on the day that woke up another part of him, one that he always feared.

It was the day he killed his father.

Marking the birth of 'The Half Blood Prince.'

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A pale boy with dark, greasy hair sat beneath the shade of a towering oak tree near a small pond. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves above him, casting dappling patterns of light and shadow on his somber face. Memories of the past swirled in his mind as he gazed into the tranquil water.

In his recollection, he saw himself as a young boy, laughing and playing by the pond with his best friend. They would spend hours together, sharing secrets and dreams, their laughter filling the air. But now, the weight of time and regret lay heavy upon his heart.

His thoughts turned to the bitter fight he had had with her. It had been a moment of anger and misunderstanding—words exchanged that could never be undone. He pondered the hurt he had caused her, the wounds she inflicted on him, and the pain etched in her eyes as she had turned away from him, shattering his heart into pieces. The memory gnawed at his soul, a constant reminder of the irreversible damage the fight caused to their friendship.

' Is this all worth it?'

' Is she worth it?'

' Am I worthy ? '

Under the tree's sheltering branches, he contemplated the depths of his love for her. He replayed their moments of friendship and affection, cherishing the warmth that had once blossomed between them.

All his life, he hated both the muggle and wizarding worlds, wanting to find a place to belong, one that would let him flourish. In a world filled with wonders, all he desired was love. He had people who loved and cared for him, people who taught him things his parents never did, and yet he didn't know how to love them back.

One thing he truly loved, apart from his mother, without any complex emotion spiraling through him, he destroyed.

The mother, whom he dearly loved and the one who introduced him to a world of wonders and magic, left scars too deep. Her inability to act sparked resentment in him.

' Why? Why? Just why doesn't she do anything?'

'She is a witch, isn't she? Why doesn't she just leave him? Why do we have to suffer? Why does she have to suffer?'

'She doesn't love me anymore. Every time I see her, my heart fills with guilt. I alone am the reason for her connection to the muggle world that kept her trapped in this wretched fate.'

Woes of the heart lay bare, only for reality to trample over them. No matter what he desired, he felt he only destroyed, bringing only suffering to those he loved.

Unaware of the true feelings of those he loved, he deluded himself into believing the only way people would see was by being part of something, some so gigantic that he could finally feel free, free of all the persecution of both worlds.

Born of two worlds, only to never be fully welcomed in either. A half-blood, shunned by the wizarding noble family for being impure and too freaky for the muggle.

Born into a family of muggles and a Prince, the Half-Blood Prince, buried all his woes deep into his mind, blocking all his feelings to avoid the aching pain.

He rose, dusting all the leaves, leaving behind his feelings, ready to face another day in the abyss known as the Snape household.

'I should head back before he starts barking again.'

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In the heart of the industrial town of Cokeworth, there existed a place forgotten by time—a desolate neighborhood known as Spinner's End. It stood as a stark testament to the bygone days of prosperity, now overshadowed by the encroaching shadows of neglect and decay.

Rows of dilapidated houses, their once vibrant colors faded and worn, lined the narrow, cobblestone streets. The air hung heavy with the scent of factory smoke, intermingling with the faint whispers of forgotten dreams that lingered in the wind.

Life in Spinner's End was a delicate balance between survival and resignation. The inhabitants, weary souls who had weathered the storms of life, moved with a sense of quiet resilience. The windows, adorned with tattered curtains, offered only fleeting glimpses into the lives within—silhouettes of hope and heartache, dreams flickering like candle flames in the twilight.

Yet the street now became a tapestry of joy, exuding a vibrant and festive aura that electrified the air. The desolate neighborhood shed its cloak of neglect and decay, as rows of dilapidated houses adorned themselves with shimmering lights and colorful decorations.

The narrow cobblestone streets, typically cloaked in shadows, now came alive with a newfound radiance. Twinkling fairy lights and garlands draped across the facades of once-faded houses, breathing life into their worn frames. The joyful melodies of carols filled the air, floating on the breeze and harmonizing with the laughter of children echoing through the street.

The air, once heavy with the scent of factory smoke, now carried hints of cinnamon and pine, a fragrant testament to the season. The faint whispers of forgotten dreams that usually lingered in the wind were replaced with the sound of cheer and merriment as neighbors greeted each other with warm smiles and good wishes.

Spinner's End became a sanctuary of happiness, where the spirit of Christmas painted the world with vibrant hues. Families ventured out into the street, their faces glowing with anticipation and delight. Children roamed about, their laughter echoing through the festive atmosphere as they marveled at the twinkling lights and decorations that adorned every corner.

Despite the world being filled with joy and happiness, it seems to never shed its light on one house in the darkest corner of Spinner's End, the Snape Household.

Their house stood as a forgotten relic amidst the gloom of the desolate neighborhood. It was a dwelling of unwelcoming darkness, with peeling paint on its walls and broken windows adorned with frayed curtains.

While the world cheered and lifted the spirit in the neighborhood, dampening the screams of tragedy, a drunk scum stood over the body of a woman, whose blood dripped from the sharp edges of a broken bottle in his hand, as she crawled away in terror.

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(Earlier this evening)

The Snape household stood in stark contrast to the festive cheer that enveloped neighboring homes. Its dimly lit interior seemed to reflect the shadows that loomed over the family.

Christmas was never a cause for celebration within these walls.

Tobias, the head of the household, was a pitiable figure—a slave to his addiction, squandering whatever meager earnings he managed to bring home on his insatiable thirst for alcohol.

Eileen Snape, formerly Eileen Prince, was a pureblood witch, but the constraints of their muggle surroundings had stifled her connection to magic. Her magical essence had dulled over time.

Year after year, Christmas became an occasion of bitter contention between Eileen and Tobias.

Eileen implored her husband, whom she referred to as "the drunkard," to at least contribute some money so they could celebrate the holiday with their son. However, Tobias turned a deaf ear to her pleas, accusing her of scheming to deprive him of his hard-earned wages.

Tobias demonstrated neither care nor concern for his wife or their son. Consumed by his addiction, he had become a wretched individual.

On this particular Christmas, Severus, their son, chose to escape the brewing storm of their arguments by leaving the house.

Little did he know that his mother had a surprise in store—a gift unlike any other, one that held the potential to free them from the shackles of their miserable existence.

Eileen felt her heart sink as she watched her son depart, sensing the growing distance between them. Their relationship had not soured, but she could feel his blame cast upon her for their dire circumstances.

"Ever since his friendship with Lily broke, he is pulling away from me too," Eileen lamented inwardly.

Glancing wearily at her intoxicated husband, whom fate had cruelly bound her to, Eileen pondered what advice she would impart to her younger self if given the chance. She resolved to caution herself against marrying someone like him.

"Hey, freak, why don't you use your magic to conjure us a Christmas feast?" Tobias jeered, his voice slurred from the cheap beer he consumed.

Annoyed by her husband's taunting while he indulged in his vices, Eileen responded calmly, trying to reason and avoid a heated argument. "That's not how it works. And why don't you use your money to contribute something for Christmas?"

"Do something with your hocus-pocus. It's my money, and I decide how to spend it! I've already put food on the table. Be grateful for that. I provide for you and that freak of a son of yours. Despite your magic, you can't even conjure money. You expect me to work more and forgo my beer?" Tobias shouted, rising unsteadily from the sofa.

Eileen, tired of her husband's incessant blame on magic for his own failings, couldn't suppress her anger any longer.

She raised her voice in response. "I've told you a thousand times, magic doesn't work that way! I need ingredients to create a feast, and I won't waste it on increasing your beer. All these years, you forced me to suppress my magic, all in the name of safety from the muggle world. Yet, now you blame me for your own incompetence?"

"Hic... You...you should be grateful, you know? I took you in when your own parents didn't want you. That brat of yours has food at that freakish school of his," Tobias slurred, swaying in his drunken state.

"They disowned me because I chose to marry you! I came from a pureblood family, living a life of luxury. But I refused to marry some pureblood maniac, so I chose you. I loved you, Tobias. But look at what you've become—a drunken, despicable man who cares naught for his family. I can't even remember why I fell in love with you!" Eileen's words dripped with bitter venom.

She could hardly believe she had abandoned her family for this sorry excuse of a man.

In her youthful folly, she had fallen in love with Tobias and made the hasty decision to elope, severing ties with her own blood.

Her family had disowned her, issuing a chilling warning that they would only accept her return, leaving Severus behind. It was the fear of subjecting her son to a life of torment under her family's rule that compelled Eileen to remain with Tobias until Severus completed his studies at Hogwarts.

"Bitch," Tobias cussed.

*Slap*

He raised his hand and delivered a harsh blow to Eileen's left cheek, leaving a mark of violence upon her delicate skin.

The sting of the impact ignited a fire within her, refusing to let such an act go unchallenged. Eileen possessed a strength of broken spirit that would not tolerate abuse.

This was not the first time such an incident had occurred, and Eileen had grown adept at defending herself against Tobias' aggression.

In previous instances, she had brandished her wand, using its power to confront him and protect herself. And now, as she felt the anger rise within her, she instinctively summons for her wand.

However, fate had other plans, before Eileen could even utter the incantation, Tobias, fueled by his drunken rage, swung the beer bottle in his grasp with a reckless force. The bottle made a sickening connection with Eileen's head, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through her skull.

The room fell into a momentary silence, shattered only by the sound of broken glass and the echoes of violence that hung heavy in the air. Eileen's vision swayed and blurred as she fought to maintain her balance, her hand instinctively reaching for the throbbing wound on her head.

*Thud!!*

As Eileen crumpled to the floor, blood trickling from her forehead, the pain intensified.

Tobias, consumed by his rage, showed no mercy and persisted in his brutal assault. He delivered kick after kick to her defenseless body, specifically targeting her vulnerable stomach.

Eileen's strength waned under the weight of the blows, her body contorting in agony.

Unable to summon the energy to shield herself adequately, she curled into a protective ball, instinctively clutching her stomach as if attempting to shield it from further harm.

The anguish radiated through every fiber of her being, eclipsing her ability to fight back or escape the relentless onslaught.

In that chilling moment, Eileen's mind raced, grappling with the harsh reality of her existence. Each vicious strike served as a reminder of the profound betrayal she endured. The shattered dreams and hopes of a future she had planned with her son lay in ruins around her.

*Cough* *Cough*

Blood seeped from her mouth as she gasped for air, the pain insurmountable.

Tobias unleashed his sadistic fury upon Eileen, delivering blow after merciless blow.

Mocking her, he relished in his cruel dominance.

"What's the matter, witch? Your precious magic can't save you now. Pathetic," Tobias jeered, his laughter echoing through the room.

Beneath the weight of her injuries, Eileen's attempts to defend herself faltered.

As Tobias stooped closer, a twisted smile on his face, he plunged the jagged remains of the beer bottle into her vulnerable abdomen.

Eileen's scream tore through the air, mingling with the gushing flow of blood.

Desperation etched across her face, she strained to summon for her wand, but the excruciating pain hindered her focus.

Tobias reveled in his sadistic triumph, his laughter punctuating the room as he continued his merciless assault.

With every stab, Eileen's strength waned, her life force draining away.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The sound of her agony filled the air, yet her cries for help remained silent, stifled by the anguish that gripped her throat.

Summoning her last reserves of willpower, Eileen fought to hold on. Through her fading vision, she whispered a desperate plea for her son to return.

"Come home, my dear... Son," she managed to utter, her words carrying a tender yet haunting tone. Time slipped away, her existence teetering on the precipice of darkness.

'NOOO! I have to stay alive, I have to. For Sev." she tore through darkness, putting all her strength in keeping going, for her son.

She helplessly tried to summon all the will she had to summon a miracle, one last bit of her forgotten magical teachings.

In the last moments of desperation, violent magic burst through her, and a green light lit the room, hitting the man and sending him high into the air and away from her.

"I just have to find my wand." She crawled away from the unconscious man to her only chance at life, leaving a trail of blood.

Alas, fate had other plans; she had already lost a lot of blood. She felt her end nearing. A thousand thoughts, more painful than her wound, pierced her heart.

'No. I…I ..was going to be finally free. Free from this hell.'

'I just…found the strength to free my son. To..to give him…the life he wanted.'

'Why? Why? Why? Why?'

'Was I too late? Is this my punishment?'

' What will happen to Sev? I can't leave him with this monster. I have to fight. I have to–'

'Please God, let me..let me see him one last time.'

'Will Evans' look after him? I have to reach that door, just that door. I can start again, with Sev. Just–'

Despite her will, the body had given up. A few feet from the door, her body gave way to the cruel embrace of death.

"Come home, Sev. Just one last ti-" She drew her last breath with her beloved son's name. Never having a chance to tell him how much he is loved and ask for his forgiveness.

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Give me STONES.