Resurrection

The rain fell incessantly; it seemed the weather in England was always like this.

Many wizards believed this to be the work of some ancient and powerful magic, but the official explanation remained that it was merely a matter of climate. On this gloomy day, a haggard man dressed in black, holding a large, heavy black umbrella, arrived at Godric's Hollow.

It was a small village, a semi-wizarding settlement. In the center of the village lay a small square, its stone tiles covered in moss, exceptionally quiet.

In the middle of the square stood a structure resembling a war memorial. There were a few shops, a post office, a pub, and a small church, its stained glass radiating jewel-like brilliance across the square.

The memorial was enchanted; as wizards passed by, it would change, transforming from an obelisk carved with names into a statue of three people: a disheveled man wearing glasses, a woman with long hair and a beautiful, kind face, and a baby girl sitting in her mother's arms.

Severus Snape walked past the church, the stained glass casting only an ominous feeling in such weather.

Yet he seemed unaffected; he was more gloomy and ominous than the weather itself.

He went alone to a graveyard behind the church, the entrance marked by a narrow gate. Rows of tombstones stood upon a pale blue silver blanket, inscribed with the surnames of ancient wizarding families. The small graveyard had been haunted for years, but with the arrival of Severus Snape, those old ghosts retreated back into their graves, hiding away.

Ghosts were always sensitive.

He walked straight ahead, passing through the tombstones. It had been many years since Severus Snape had visited this place, but he still remembered the way. He would always remember—never forget.

He stopped before a tombstone inscribed with the name James Potter. Severus Snape looked at the stone, his heart unexpectedly calm.

No hatred, no contempt, only peace, as if he had let go—had he?

Severus Snape stepped past it.

Next to the tombstone of James Potter was the tombstone of Lily Potter.

Their epitaphs were identical, an ancient proverb: The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Severus Snape's lips moved as he silently recited the words.

Yes, the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Severus Snape set down his umbrella, letting the icy rain beat against his face. April in England remained cold, especially on rainy days. He soon felt a chill surge into his heart. Severus Snape took a deep breath; he would hesitate no longer.

Magic surged from his fingertips, transforming into a white shovel that dug into the grave of Lily Potter. He soon saw the coffin. Severus Snape's lips trembled, though he could not say if it was from the cold or something else.

Perhaps he did not know himself—if anyone were to ask, he would likely say it was because of the cold.

He let out a long, pain-filled sigh.

He jumped into the pit, mud and rainwater soaking his trouser legs. Severus Snape personally brushed over the heavy, cold coffin, wiping away the dirt with gentle movements, bit by bit.

As he moved, a sentence carved into the coffin was revealed: May love grant you peace.

Her love for her daughter had lulled her into sleep; now, another love, unspoken and unknown, would awaken her from death.

Severus Snape clenched his fists and began to chant, ancient spells from another world spilling from his lips.

They traversed millions of years of time, even crossing worlds, to arrive before this coffin.

As the incantation continued, the coffin opened of its own accord. Inside lay a corpse in a black dress, long since decayed, reduced almost to a skeleton. Severus Snape remembered that day, October 31, 1981; it was now 1992.

Severus Snape had no time for nostalgia; once this magic began, it could never be stopped.

He spread his arms, and amidst a painful scream, all the magic in his body surged from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes, the white light illuminating the small pit. The magic floated in mid-air, forming a ball of light the size of a basketball. Severus Snape collapsed weakly to the ground, a mess of a man.

"Cough—cough, cough."

Severus Snape coughed violently, covering his mouth as droplets of blood seeped through his fingers. For a moment, he truly thought he had died.

But he hadn't; he could not die yet, not now.

Thus, Severus Snape pressed his hands together, struggling to climb to his knees, sitting on the ground as the blood between his palms began to boil.

The ball of magic in the air gradually dispersed, forming an intricate magic circle around the pit. Severus Snape closed his eyes. The voice of He Shenyan echoed in his ears.

Images flashed before his eyes.

"The difficulty of this magic lies in love, Mr. Snape."

In his office, Severus Snape had heard He Shenyan say this. He hadn't looked at Severus Snape, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling, his tone ethereal.

"First, you must endure the pain of death, because this magic involves alchemy. And the essence of alchemy is equivalent exchange. If you survive the pain of death, then you can proceed to the next step. It is also the most difficult step."

He Shenyan suddenly sat upright, looking into his eyes, saying every word clearly: "Is your love truly strong enough to wake the dead from their long slumber?"

Severus Snape had not known the answer then, and now, kneeling in the pit, he still did not know.

But the fire in his heart had grown so fierce that if he did not release it, it would burn him alive.

Therefore, he simply smiled faintly—he had never smiled like this before.

The magic poured into the corpse of Lily Potter. Her body, decayed to the point of being a skeleton, rapidly regained its human form. Her red hair grew back, yet she still did not breathe.

Relying entirely on his knees, Severus Snape moved bit by bit to the side of the coffin.

His clasped hands had never opened until now. He brought his hands to the face of the woman in the coffin, who looked as if she were merely sleeping, and released them. His boiling blood dripped down. Veins bulged on Severus Snape's forehead as he let out a roar from his throat. Just then, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, the rumbling thunder signaling the arrival of a torrential downpour.

She did not move.

Severus Snape lowered his head. The downpour descended, washing the mud and blood from his body, soaking him through and chilling him to the bone. But he did not care; the rainwater mingled and flowed across his face, eventually dripping onto the ground.

No one cared about the low sobbing of a man in the pouring rain. Here, only tombstones and corpses kept him company; the only things that could hear him were the ghosts, but they would not appear.

Until a hand gently touched his cheek. Severus Snape shuddered, afraid to look up, fearing it was merely a hallucination. But that voice, the voice that had appeared in his dreams for countless nights, asked softly: "What has happened to me, Severus?"

Severus Snape looked up and saw a red-haired woman in a black dress looking at him with a bewildered expression.

In the rain, they locked eyes.

No one spoke; only the wind, the rain, and the thunder provided the soundtrack for this long-planned reunion.

Snape had a thousand things he wanted to say, but when the words reached his lips, all he could exhale were a few sobs and blurred syllables. He had imagined this day countless times, willing to pay any price for it. Yet, when it truly arrived, he found himself unable to say a thing.

Only tears flowed in a thousand streams.

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