Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor anything otherwise related. I do, however, make claim on NM Harry's personality as well as those of all the other canon characters and my original chars.
Time passes like a flash.
One minute it's there,
then gone in the aftermath.
People you love die,
but their memory lives on;
Until it seems
that they live again.
"Remembrance" by Anastasia Snape-Vickers, in memoriam of Severus Jardin Snape (2001-2156)
Time Passes Like a Flash
"Are you certain you want to do this?"
Violet Vickers-Romaniv, great-great grandchild of Harry Snape and forty-six-year-old Hogwarts professor, lifted her head to look at her cousin from underneath her wild black hair. Her nimble hands ceased drawing a complicated pattern upon the floor of Ashdeir Fierion's entrance hall and she sat back on her heels, wiping chalk from her hands on her skirt.
"Yes," she replied, fixing her gray eyes on her cousin's face. "We need help, Adam. And he's the only person who can."
Adam Lakewood, her three years older cousin and Auror, ran a hand back through his auburn hair and shook his head.
"I don't like this, Vi. Doesn't seem…right."
Violet frowned and said, "It's not. But what other choice do we have?"
He sighed and muttered in reply, "None."
"Right." She then lifted her hand and extended the piece of chalk she'd been drawing with to him. "Finish it."
Adam took the piece of chalk gingerly and looked at it for a long moment before he strode over to the opposite side of the large circle she'd sketched out on the floor. It spanned three feet from its radius and had two other circles inside it, each at the exact spot where the other two feet hit. Obscure symbols and rune's littered the insides of the circles and as Adam knelt across from Violet, he drew the last one in.
He then set the chalk aside and looked across at his cousin, who had gone suddenly pale. She turned her head to look up towards the staircase and the second floor, which was where her husband and two children were sleeping. They – nor any others of the family – had any idea of what the two of them were doing on this night. The only soul that knew was Marly, the family house-elf, and Violet had sworn her to secrecy.
"Vi," he said softly.
Violet looked at him then her eyes hardened and she growled, "We're doing this."
Adam nodded and as one they both laid their hands palm down on top of symbols to their immediate left and right. A single symbol sat between their hands and made a direct line between the two of them across the circle.
Violet took a deep, shuddering breath to steady her nerves and began to speak.
"Leth kaibaine maith desais ak ay toth, chall wyrr ii urgifphal maith Istveilain ryrmai!"
Adam felt the words echo to something deep within him and he threw all of his doubts away. With the first words of the spell, they couldn't turn back now.
He repeated her words then spoke the next line as the spell worked by two people repeating the lines and strengthening the spell doubly. Whoever repeated, spoke the next line.
"Leth wyrr ii ooka maith queraif Kaida aith leth bishel re san, leth xarra, leth ja labr praithee!"
Between their hands, the symbols that made a line between them began to glow.
"Leth wyrr tar chai yifpanee gif jarall kaidain!" said Violet, her voice rising to a near shout.
All of the symbols within the circle blazed forth with a violent white light and they turned their faces away, closing their eyes. But Adam repeated the line and bellowed out the next without skipping a beat.
"Leth wyrr Haraii Jifkai Snaran!"
They shouted the last line as one voice as the power of the spell swept around them, the circle glowing violently between them.
"Cha, esti kinai, wuril san kee!"
A muffled explosion echoed through Ashdeir Fierion and Erik Romaniv, Violet's husband, was jolted out of a sound sleep. He sprang out of a bed empty but for himself and ran from the room down the hall to that of his children. Finding the twins still sleeping, he turned and headed for the entrance hall.
He was almost there when he heard a voice he didn't recognize bellow, "Tar nurr yyet narr!"
Half recognizing the language as the Elven he'd heard his wife and her family sometimes speak, he broke into a run down the corridors.
"VIOLET!" he shouted as he skidded, wide-eyed, to a stop at the top of the staircase. His hands clenched on the balcony railing at the sight beneath him in the entrance hall.
On one side Adam was hauling himself to his feet, a cut dripping blood down into his right eye and his left arm hanging by his side at an odd angle. Violet's form was crumpled on the other side of the room but her head slowly lifted and Erik released the breath he'd been holding.
"Tar nurr yyet narr?"
Erik's gaze shifted away from his wife and his jaw dropped at the figure that was in the center of the entrance hall, crouched in the center of a chalk circle. It was a figure he had only seen in a portrait and had never expected to see in real life.
Especially since he'd been dead for one hundred thirteen years!
Violet pushed herself up onto an elbow and smiled at the crouched, naked figure. She then twitched her fingers, causing a cloak to drift from its hook by the door and drop over his broad shoulders.
"Hello, Great-great Grandfather," she murmured, her gray eyes meeting his emerald for a split second before she fainted.
In the center of the chalk circle, Harold Jamison Snape pulled the heavy black cloak about himself and stared at the dark-haired woman on the floor in front of him. He then frowned and looked down at where his scarred hands clutched the cloak together then looked at the woman again.
His hand touched the floor and felt the graininess of the chalk alongside the coolness of the stone floor. Then he touched his thigh and felt warm, very much alive flesh and the bone underneath.
Sorrow, pain, and anger welled up within him and he screamed at the unfairness of the universe that had allowed him to be taken away from his Niamh.
In response, Ashdeir Fierion shook to its foundations as it realized the one who had rebuilt it and constructed its wards had returned.
Miles and miles away, Saul Weasley, Headmaster of Hogwarts and great grandchild of Ronald Weasley and Mischa Davids, sprang to his feet as the castle shuddered beneath him. He sank back into his chair as it ceased and wondered what had happened to cause the ancient castle to react so.
In the Forbidden Forest, a dark shape reared onto its hind legs, a crooked horn extending from it's forehead dimly reflecting what light filtered down from the moon. A fierce war cry echoing through the forest caused even the acromantula's to pause and the centaur's to look instantly to the sky. As they realized that a star long gone out had reappeared brighter than ever, the last Darcorn's iron hooves pounded relentlessly at the ground as he sped away to greet one he'd sworn to protect.
And in an alternate plane altogether, an aging queen jolted out of a sound sleep. Her husband shifted beside her and pushed himself up onto one elbow, frowning at her from underneath his gray hair.
"Sheen? What's wrong?"
Sheen Ardwith, Queen of the Elves, turned wide eyes to her husband's face and replied, "He's alive.
"Harry is alive."Elven Translations
Violet and Adam's spell:
Give life from death at my command, bring back a soul from heavenly demesne!
Give back a body from hallowed ground and give breath to it, give blood, give all that abounds!
Give back what was taken upon these grounds!
Give back Harold Jamison Snape!
We, his kin, demand it now!
Tar nurr yyet narr: What have you doneAuthor's Note
Everyone gets the title now, I hope?