The morning dawned grey and heavy, as if the castle itself knew what was coming.
By breakfast, it was clear something was off—an unnatural silence had settled over the Great Hall. Even Peeves was nowhere to be seen.
Then the parchment came.
Delivered not by owl, but by a cold gust of wind that sent every goblet on the Slytherin table trembling.
Severus Snape picked it up.
His name was the only thing written on the outside.
Inside, a summons.
"You are hereby called to stand trial at the Ministry Court-in-Campus. Location: Great Hall. Time: Noon. Charges: Use of Dark Magic, Allegiance to Unnamed Forces, and Endangerment of Fellow Students."
High Noon at Hogwarts
By midday, every bench was cleared from the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling thundered above, rain pressing down like the judgment of the gods.
A stone dais had been conjured at the front.
Snape stood alone on it—no wand, no advocate.
His black school robes were still damp from last night's rain. His hair clung to his face.
From the staff table, Dumbledore watched with a narrowed gaze, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
To his left sat Amelia Bones, flanked by two Ministry representatives.
To his right: Lillian Prince, calm and expressionless.
Snape's heart lurched once.
Just once.
Then silence returned.
Witness Testimony
"State your name," came the cold voice of Madam Bones.
"Severus Tobias Snape."
"You have been accused of supplying volatile restricted ingredients to Lucius Malfoy, resulting in the greenhouse fire and the poisoning of two Hufflepuff students."
"I didn't," Snape said, voice flat.
"We have witness testimony," Bones continued.
She turned.
And Lillian stood.
Perfect. Controlled. Poison in velvet.
"I saw Severus give Lucius the vial. I remember the label: Blackroot venom. I asked him what it was for and he told me not to worry."
Snape's jaw tightened.
"You're lying."
Lillian didn't blink.
"He also gave me this," Lillian added, raising his hand—
—and showed them the ring.
The one Severus had crafted in fifth year. With blood and trust. A token.
Now, it glowed dark green, a pulsing light from within the carved silver.
Dumbledore stood suddenly, but Amelia held up a hand.
"What is that ring enchanted with?"
"It was meant to protect me," Lillian said.
"But it didn't. It hurt me."
Gasps spread like fire through the hall.
Snape's voice trembled with fury. "You enchanted it yourself! That's not what I gave—!"
But the glow deepened.
The ring pulsed again.
And then it happened.
The Curse
In the blink of an eye, the magic surged. Green light shot out from Lillian's palm—straight into Severus's chest.
He flew back. Hit the stone wall with a crack.
And didn't move.
Blood spilled from his mouth.
Silence.
Then chaos.
McGonagall shouted.
Sirius was out of his seat.
Lucius Malfoy just laughed.
Dumbledore swept forward like a storm, but the damage was done.
Snape lay curled at the base of the wall, unconscious—cursed by the very gift he gave.
Infirmary, That Night
Madam Pomfrey worked in silence.
Snape didn't wake.
Not that night. Not the next.
There was a burn mark over his heart, shaped like the engraving inside the ring:
Fidelius cor meum. My heart is yours.
Poisoned irony.
Lillian didn't visit.
James didn't look away.
Lucius didn't stop smirking.
And Sirius—Sirius stayed outside the infirmary door all night, back against the wall, hands clenched.
Waiting.
Epilogue: A Letter Never Sent
On Snape's bedside table lay a crumpled piece of parchment.
His last scribble before the trial.
He won't stop. Lucius has the Ministry in his hand. If anything happens to me—look in the ring.
But no one saw it.
Not yet.