A/N: Thx so much LoverOfVoldemort and
padfooot_emmy for adding this to their favourite stories!!!

Harry Potter sat against Tom Riddle Senior’s grave, defeated, wandless, down-heated and bloody, staring at his arm, which had a long gash seeping blood, with his right leg at an awkward angle. He had travelled across the world, looking for and destroying Voldemort’s Horcruxes. He had lost his only love, Ginerva Weasley, and endangered his friends’ lives.

But, he had destroyed all the Horcruxes. Tom Riddle’s diary, Marvolo’s Ring, Slytherin’s locket, destroyed by R.A.B, who Harry found out later was Severus Snape’s sister, Repria Alice Balbus, Hufflepuff’s cup, found in Lily Potter’s grave, Ravenclaw’s bow and arrow, found deep in the Chamber of Secrets and, lastly, the Sorting Hat, found in Minerva McGonagall’s Headmistress office. How Voldemort managed to make this a Horcrux is only known by him himself.

Now, Harry was sitting, defeated, while his friends where at Hogwarts, where Harry had forced them to stay while Harry went to face his destiny. His ugly destiny, in more ways than one. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger knew, if they saw Harry again, that the war would be over. They would of won.

But that probably wasn’t going to happen.

Harry raised his head slowly and looked into the scarlet, heartless eyes belonging to Lord Voldemort. The eyes that had killed Harry’s parents. His classmate. His godfather. His headmaster. His girlfriend… and now him…

“Harry,” sneered Voldemort cruelly, holding Harry’s wand in his large, pale, spider-like hands which had throttled and destroyed families…

He smiled, still twirling Harry’s wand. "So sorry about your wand..." he said slyly, breaking it in half, “Now, before I kill you, do you have any questions? May give you longer to live… but, then again, I suppose you want to see your Mudblood family sooner than later? And that old fool, Dumbledore? And you’re wizard-traitor girlfriend?”

Anger surged through Harry’s veins, but the longer he lived the more time he had to think of a plan…

“Yeah, I have a question,” Harry said suddenly, still staring into the scarlet, hateful eyes even though his scar seared in pain, “why did you give my mother so many chances to live?” This question had been etched into Harry’s mind for as long as he could remember, and maybe, maybe he would get it answered…

Voldemort grinned, “Ah, I you would really like to know, I will show you,” grinned Voldemort. Harry immediately knew nothing good would come of this…

The spider hands grabbed Harry’s arm, right on his wound, and as painful as it was, Harry didn’t twitch. His scar bled as he and Voldemort dissolved into a memory.

Harry found himself standing, leaning on his unbroken leg, in a street, where chaos had erupted.

Fires had erupted, people were screaming, cloaks whipping around corners everywhere, Dementors gliding around, sucking out souls and Dark Marks over practically every house.

Harry wrenched his view away from a beautiful Muggle woman, who was huddled in the corner, shaking with fear as, unseen to her, a Dementor was performing the Dementors Kiss on her, and he looked at Voldemort, who was following two hooded, cloaked figures, who were walking through the chaos as though it were a picnic. Harry limped after Voldemort and the two strangers, who stopped in front of a house, which was undamaged.

“Is this the house?” a cold, heartless voice came under the first cloak. Harry knew at once this was Voldemort.

“Yes, Master. According to Wormtail, anyway. But I wouldn’t relay on him…” Hatred, fear, puzzlement and curiosity pounded in Harry’s veins as he recognised Snape’s voice. Harry realised, with a sickening lurch of his stomach that they were standing outside Godric’s Hollow on Halloween 1987. The night Harry’s parents died.
But why was Snape there?

“Lord, before we go in, can you try to spare Lily Potter’s life?” Snape asked quietly, avoiding his master’s piercing gaze.

“Why do you want the girl alive, Severus?” the memory Voldemort hissed.

Memory Snape hesitated... “Because, she is an extremely talented witch,... and would be a worthy and loyal Death Eater…”

Harry was stunned. Snape had tried to save his mother’s life… now he knew, and wanted to get out of the memory before he saw…

“No Potter,” hissed the real Voldemort cruelly, “I think it would be interesting to enter the house, don’t you?”

Harry tried to leave, but couldn’t, Voldemort had immobilised him and he couldn’t move. He was forced to follow the Voldemort’s and Snape up Godric’s Hollow path.

He heard a voice, much like his own; shout over the screams of witches, wizards and Muggles, “It’s him! Lily, take Harry and run!”

Harry used all of his remaining strength trying to stop, but pain erupted through his body and the invisible ropes binding him tightened, he flinched in pain.

“Trying to escape, are we?” Voldemort asked, smiling softly as the door of Godric’s Hollow burst open and James’s frantic screams of, “Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Furnunculus! Immobulus! Impedimenta! Rictusempra! Scourgify! Petrificus Totalus! Crucio! Levicorpus! SECTUMSEMPRA!” erupted and joined the screams echoing through the village.

Harry was forced inside and he tried to shut his eyes but he couldn’t. He had to watch in horror as Snape disarmed James Potter.

“Snivellus,” he saw his father spit at Snape. “Always knew you were a traitor!”

“Any last words?” sneered Snape.

“Get the hell out of my house and leave my family alone you fucking bastards!” James yelled.

“Manners. Avada Kedavra! ” the memory Voldemort said, pointing his wand at Harry’s furious father.

A blinding green flash, Harry and James Potter yelled at the same time, Harry blinking back tears.

“Upstairs!” Snape said. Voldemort hurried upstairs, Snape following. Harry stared, horrified, at his father’s limp body, uncontrollable tears gushing down his face. He looked just like his father, except James had hazel eyes.

Harry was forced into the bedroom where Lily was frantically getting baby Harry.

Harry stood in the corner, Voldemort beside him, memory Voldemort in front of Lily (who was now standing in front of the cradle) and Snape in the doorway.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” Lily screamed, tears running down her beautiful face.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now…” memory Voldemort laughed coldly.

“Lily, stand aside!” Snape hissed.

“Not Harry, please no, take me! Kill me instead!” Lily pleaded, her emerald green eyes full of tears and fear… and love for baby Harry… the scene made Harry’s heart heavy with emotion…

“Stand aside, you stupid girl!” hissed memory Voldemort impatiently.

“No, NO!” shrieked Lily, “Kill me, KILL ME INSTEAD!”

Memory Voldemort let out a shrill, cold laugh and, once again, there was a blinding light, accompanied by a pitiful scream, and another one… and another one…

Snape was screaming, and Harry was screaming, more tears rushing down his face as memory Voldemort turned to baby Harry. The scene dissolved once more and Harry found himself slumped against the gravestone, with a tear-stained face and Voldemort leering down at him.

“Ta da,” Voldemort said nastily, “Now, you will join your mother, father, Dumbledore and dear old Sirius… don’t forget your girlfriend…”

“Wait!” Harry said quickly, he had an idea. A wild idea. An unbelievably idea. He wondered if it would work...

“I’ve waited enough! Avada- ”

“What if I become a Death Eater?”

“What?” Voldemort said, stunned.

“What if I become a Death Eater? Joined you?” Harry repeated.

“Mmm… I do need more recruits… and you are surprisingly powerful for your age… destroying all of my Horcruxes…”

Harry prayed that his plan would work.

“Fine. You can be my most trusted Death Eater, and carry out all the most supreme tasks!”

Harry forced a believable smile and held out his left arm.

“ Morsmorde! ” Harry felt his arm grow hot, and then a green flash, but no pain. That was unexpected. Harry looked down on his forearm and saw the Dark Mark. He had more time. And suddenly he had another brilliant plan.

“Did that hurt?” grinned Voldemort slyly, mending Harry’s forgotten wand, but not giving it to him.

“No,” said Harry simply, pretending to examine the Dark Mark with interest, when instead he was thinking out his plan.

“What?” Voldemort said, dropping Harry’s wand, “you aren’t lying… I would know… only the most trusting Death Eaters don’t feel pain when branded with the Mark… only three so far haven’t screamed in pain…”

“Who?” asked Harry, his mind reeling.

“Bellatrix Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr. and Severus Snape,”

Harry looked up quickly, “ Snape? ”

“Yes. Now, we are going to enter the Ministry at midnight tonight along with our fellow Death Eaters-”

“Wait,” said Harry, picking his wand up off the ground where Voldemort had dropped it and whispering, “ Ferula, ” a splint and bandages appeared on his broken leg. He got up. He had figured out his plan.

“What?” Voldemort hissed.

This better work Harry thought…

“I forgive you!” Harry said quickly. He made himself forgive Voldemort… Voldemort couldn’t stand love… Harry had to believe… Harry couldn’t forgive him… but he had to…

“What?” Voldemort said, startled.

“I-I forgive you! F-For everything!”

Voldemort took a step backwards, his face filled with confusion… panic… pain .

Voldemort screamed a cold, shrill scream, and there was a blinding flash………..

And Harry knew no more.

“Is he okay? Will he be okay? What will happen to him?” Harry heard a shrill girl’s voice speak. He was lying in a comfortable bed, his head spinning. He didn’t open his eyes.

“Hermione, he’ll be fine,” Harry heard a weary boy’s voice, “I’ve told you a hundred times, and so has Madam Pomfrey!”

“But still Ron, when will he waked up? It’s been two days!”

Harry groaned as he recognised the pain in his broken leg and spilt arm.

“Harry? Harry?”

Harry fluttered his eyes open and found his vision all fuzzy. Someone put glasses on him and he recognised the Hospital Wing’s ceiling. He sat up and saw a very flustered-looking Hermione and a very tired-looking Ron. Obviously they hadn’t left his side since he got here.

“ Harry! ” shrieked Hermione, hugging him, “You’re awake!”

“Ow,” Harry groaned as Hermione hugged him, his ribs were sore. He looked down on his left arm and saw the Dark Mark was still there. Hermione and Ron hadn’t noticed it. He groaned even more.

“What happened?” Ron said eagerly.

Harry hesitated, then started into a long story, for the fourth time in his life, involving Voldemort. He started when he arrived at Little Hangleton, but, when he reached the part about the memory, he couldn’t continue.

“He was about to kill me, he snapped my wand, and then, since no-one was around, gave me a chance to answer any questions I might have. Unusual,” Harry said, while Hermione and Ron’s faces where white, there eyes wide and fearful.

“What did you ask?” asked Hermione, quietly yet urgently, as though she was a little girl asking her mother what happened next in her bedtime story.

Harry was silent. “I-I asked him why he gave my mum so many chances to live…” he finally said quietly.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other and, after a while, Ron said, “What did he say?”

“He showed me.” Harry said quietly. He could hear his mother’s pleads, and Voldemort’s cruel laughter echoing in his aching brain…

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now…”

Hermione and Ron, if possible, went even whiter.

“Oh Harry!” whispered Hermione, hugging him again. Harry winced as she crushed his ribs.

“Sick,” Ron whispered. “Twisted…”

A heavy silence, which seemed to last hours followed. Harry looked at his bloodstained watch. It had only been five minutes…

“Snape asked him to,” Harry said suddenly.

“What?” Ron said, disbelieving what he heard. Hermione’s eyes were as wide as ever.

“Snape told Voldemort to try to spare her life… he said she would be an excellent Death Eater… he screamed when she died…” Harry trailed in and out of sentences.

“So, Snape is the reason your mum got so many chances to live?” Ron asked, running his hand through his livid red, growing hair. Harry nodded.

Another long, heavy silence followed. Harry found these uncomfortable. Hermione interrupted, “What happened next?” she asked faintly, her eyes watering.

“He was going to kill me, and I needed more time to make a plan. So, to distract him, I offered to become a Death Eater-” Harry continued, but Ron stopped him.

“Hold on, I thought you just said you offered to become a Death Eater!”

“I did.” Harry answered, holding up his left forearm. Hermione and Ron stared at the mark. “Wonder if you can get it off…” Harry said, more to himself, looking at the Mark.

“You can’t. It’s unremovable,” Hermione whispered, barely audible.

“Shit,” Harry said. “Anyway, it didn’t hurt, and I thought it would of. He asked me did it, and when I said no, he was… surprised,”

“Why?” asked Ron, his eyes still lingering on Harry’s forearm, his face full of horrified shock.

“Because… according to him… only true Death Eaters don’t feel pain.”

“It’s because Voldemort transferred part of himself into you the night he died,” Hermione said instantly, reminding Harry of Dumbledore. Ron looked shocked, but, for the first time in his life, sat in silence.

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I’m only the fourth to be branded with it and not feel pain.”

“Who were the other three?” Ron asked, wrenching his gaze from the Mark.

“Bellatrix, Crouch and…” Harry swallowed, “Snape,”

“SNAPE?” Ron gasped loudly.

“No. We have evidence that he had to kill Dumbledore to stay a spy, and Dumbledore wanted him to do it. He said so, in his portrait. He was working for us!”

“I dunno Hermione-”

“You never liked him, Ron! He was working for us! I trust Dumbledore more than I trust Voldemort!” Hermione said loudly, tears falling down her face. Harry didn’t know if they were tears of frustration or confusion.

“Guys, don’t argue,” groaned Harry as Ron opened his mouth. “Anyway, I’m starting to regret… but he killed Dumbledore… and Ginny…” Harry trailed off.

Hermione and Ron fell silent. Harry had left Snape alone to deal with a Zyodak (one of the most Darkest and dangerous creatures on earth) after he ‘accidentally’ killed Ginny. They didn’t know if he was alive…the chances were extremely slim...

“What happened next Harry? How did you kill him? Voldemort?” Hermione said quickly, steering the conversation away from Ginny, because Harry and Ron both got upset at the mention of her name.

“Yeah, right. He was blabbering on about an attack on the Ministry at midnight- wait, how long was I asleep?”

“Two days,” Ron said slowly.

“Did they attack?” Harry asked quietly.

Neither Ron nor Hermione answered until-

“I’m so sorry Harry. They attacked and a lot of people got hurt - on both sides - but… only two people actually died…”

Harry’s insides turned into ice. It sounded like they were out of the Order… “Who?” whispered Harry.

“Wormtail and…” Ron said slowly and quietly, “I’m so sorry mate, we are all disappointed… Tonks was the worst … Bellatrix killed… she… Lupin,”

Harry felt hot, fresh tears form in his eyes. All of the Marauders… dead. No…

He put a hand to his mouth and whispered, “No… no,”

“I’m so sorry Harry…” croaked Hermione.

“I’ll kill her… I’ll kill her…”

“Harry-”

“Does the Order know where she is?” Harry asked, picking up his wand from the bedside table. Hermione grabbed his wrist.

“Harry, they caught her yesterday. She received the Dementor’s Kiss…”

“Good. She killed Sirius and Lupin, she deserved it…” Harry said shakily. He was shaking so badly that he was shaking Hermione’s hand as well.

“What happened next?” she asked gently, taking his wand off him and setting it back on the table. She offered him some water. Harry drank it. Ron was staring out the window at the Quidditch Pitch the whole time. He was half-listening to Luna Lovegood’s commentary (And it seems Seamus has fallen off his broom… Loser’s Lurgy again, I see…look at that cloud...) and half-thinking in his own thoughts.

“I pretended to forgive him. I forced myself to forgive him, because Voldemort can’t stand love and… I don’t know. He yelled, then, nothing.”

Hermione and Ron stared at Harry and each other for a long time.

“There is one thing I can’t a stand,” Harry sighed finally, looking into Ron and Hermione’s wide eyes, “Is that now I’m a murderer,”

“I pretended to forgive him. I forced myself to forgive him, because Voldemort can’t stand love and… I don’t know. He yelled, then, nothing. Sir,” Harry explained the whole story, again, to Dumbledore’s portrait the following morning. The Dark Mark was still on his arm, as was his long scar on his arm, and he was in crutches, because what Voldemort did to his leg was still not cured. Harry told Madam Pomfrey the curse he used was ‘Perdo’ but she had never heard of it. It was obviously very Dark Magic.

“Bravo Harry. Bravo,” Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. The portraits around the room started applauding and cheering. Some stood still, faces pearly white, not believing what they had just heard.

“But what about Snape?” Harry asked, “Whose side was he really on?” He wanted, no, needed to know what side Severus Snape was really on.

“Ahh, I don’t think we will ever know,” Dumbledore smiled. He sat in silence, staring at his Astronomy globe and then, suddenly, he said, “Love is a Remarkable Thing,”