HP: Son of Mischief and Moonlight (HPxPercy Jackson)

Chapter 5

Severus Snape was not having a good day. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he did have a good day, but today was shaping up to be especially terrible.

He stalked down the dark, creepy halls of Malfoy Manor, where everything seemed to scream 'We're bad guys!' in bold letters. The whole place had the vibe of a haunted mansion crossed with a high-end spa, but without the luxury of decent lighting or, you know, any joy.

Snape, of course, wasn't here for a spa day. No, he had news to deliver. Bad news. The kind of news that made his greasy hair feel even greasier just thinking about it. His robes swished dramatically as he approached the inner chamber, where Lord Voldemort—yep, that Voldemort—was holding court. The atmosphere was as heavy as a blanket made of lead, and Snape felt the eyes of every Death Eater on him as he entered.

He bowed low, because that's what you did when you were talking to a noseless snake man with a god complex. "My Lord," he began, trying to keep his voice steady. His nerves were jangling like Peeves had gotten into a Muggle percussion set. "I have... information. From the Hog's Head."

Voldemort, sitting there in all his creepy glory, tilted his head slightly. "Continue," he said, his voice smooth and cold, like ice cream that could murder you.

Snape straightened up, but not too much, because there were rules about these things. "I overheard Dumbledore," he said. "He was speaking with Sybil Trelawney. A prophecy was made... one that concerns a child who could defeat you, my Lord. Born at the end of July. To parents who have defied you three times."

The room got so quiet that Snape was pretty sure he could hear Lucius Malfoy nervously playing with his platinum hair behind him. Voldemort, for his part, just blinked, his red eyes glowing ominously in the dim light.

"A child," Voldemort repeated, his voice calm but dangerous. "One who could destroy me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Snape confirmed, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this mess in the first place. Probably because the universe hated him. That was his working theory, anyway.

Voldemort sat back, tapping his long, thin fingers on the armrest of his chair like he was plotting world domination. Which, of course, he was. "And you only heard part of this prophecy?"

Snape nodded, feeling like a kid who'd only half-finished his homework. "Aberforth caught me eavesdropping and threw me out before I could hear the rest."

"Pity," Voldemort said, though it didn't sound like he was particularly sorry about it. "This child must be found. And eliminated."

Snape's stomach did a little flip at that. Eliminate a child? Even he had his limits... sort of. But you didn't say no to Voldemort, because people who said no to Voldemort usually ended up six feet under. Or worse.

Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. "You may go, Severus. You have done well."

Snape bowed again—his back was starting to ache from all this bowing—and backed out of the room as quickly as he could without actually running. Running was for people who didn't want to look cool and mysterious.

As he stepped into the cold night air outside Malfoy Manor, Snape let out a long breath. He'd just handed over information that could lead to a prophecy baby being hunted down by a dark wizard. Great. Just great. What could possibly go wrong?

He shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged down the path, feeling like the world's worst messenger. The universe really did hate him.

—

James Potter was pacing. Again. This wasn't your typical I forgot where I left my wand pacing. No, this was there's an evil dark wizard trying to kill my family pacing. You know, the fun kind.

"We've got to do it, Lils," he said, his voice tense as he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, making it somehow even messier. "The Fidelius Charm. It's the only way we can keep Harry safe."

Lily, standing across the room with arms crossed, glanced at their one-year-old son, who was currently babbling away at a stuffed phoenix like it was his best friend. "I know, James," she replied, her voice softer than her usual no-nonsense tone. "But who do we trust enough to be our Secret Keeper? This is Harry's life we're talking about."

Enter Sirius Black, lounging on their couch like he owned the place, feet kicked up, because Sirius didn't do tense unless someone forced him. He grinned. "Obviously, it should be me. Best mate duties and all that. Who else is going to keep this secret better than me?"

Lily gave him one of those smiles—the kind that said, You're sweet, but also please stop talking right now. "Sirius, we love you, but you're the most obvious choice. If Voldemort finds out we're using the Fidelius Charm, he'll come after you first. We can't put that target on your back."

"Pfft, like I don't already have a target on my back," Sirius shot back, sitting up. "You really think some dark wizard's going to scare me? I'll take him on—hand-to-wand combat, no problem. Maybe throw in some fireworks for effect."

James snorted. "Yeah, Padfoot, because nothing says stealth and secrecy like fireworks."

Sirius shrugged. "Just a suggestion. Always gotta keep things dramatic, you know."

But despite the banter, James was thinking. Lily had a point. Sirius was the obvious choice. Which made him… too obvious. That wouldn't work. He glanced at Lily, who was still watching Harry, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

"What if we pick someone no one would expect?" James said slowly, like the idea was forming word by word in his brain. "Someone... unassuming. What if we use Peter?"

Sirius blinked. "Peter? Wormtail?"

Lily's eyes brightened. "Exactly. He's quiet, he's not flashy, and no one would ever suspect him of being the Secret Keeper. And if we tell everyone you're the Secret Keeper, Sirius, that adds another layer of protection."

Sirius leaned forward, considering it. He wasn't one to think of Wormtail as the bravest of their group, but he was loyal. "Huh. Wormtail as a decoy. That could actually work."

James nodded. "We tell everyone Sirius is the one holding the secret, but it's really Peter. No one will go after him. They'll all be too focused on the big, dramatic, fireworks-obsessed Sirius Black."

"Hey," Sirius objected, though he was grinning. "Fireworks have their place, alright?"

Lily looked between the two, her worry softening a little. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was the best they had. And it was clever, which—let's face it—wasn't always James' strongest suit.

"I'll talk to Peter tomorrow," James said, nodding firmly. "We'll do the spell, and no one else can know."

What none of them realized, of course, was that Peter Pettigrew had been playing both sides for over a year. The rat was already deep in the Dark Lord's pocket, and they were about to hand him the most dangerous secret of all.

But for now, Sirius stood up, clapping James on the back. "Don't worry, mate. This plan is solid. Voldemort's got nothing on us."

James chuckled, though there was an edge of doubt in his laughter. "Yeah, let's hope you're right, Padfoot. Because something tells me this game we're playing? It's not going to end the way we think."

If only he knew how right he was.

—-

Meanwhile, back at Malfoy Manor, the atmosphere in the drawing room was a cocktail of tension and superiority complexes, garnished with a dash of dread. Lucius Malfoy, ever the epitome of elegance (and probably smugness), stood near the fireplace, casually swirling his goblet of wine like he wasn't delivering life-altering news.

Through "generous gifts" (read: bribes) to various informants, Lucius had uncovered something important. Something that would undoubtedly elevate him in the eyes of the Dark Lord. The prophecy, the one they only had half of, now had some clarity.

"There are two children," Lucius announced, savoring the moment. "Two who match the criteria laid out in the prophecy."

The other Death Eaters shifted slightly, but no one dared to interrupt. Lucius lived for this.

"They were born just a day apart from each other," he continued, with all the flair of someone used to being the center of attention. "One is Neville Longbottom. The other..." He paused, dragging out the tension for as long as possible, "Harry Potter."

A murmur spread through the room, but no one dared to speak outright. Not in the Dark Lord's presence, and certainly not while Lucius was having his moment. But in the corner, slouched in the shadows, Severus Snape's blood ran cold.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Harry Potter. The name hit Snape like a bludger to the gut. He could feel his chest tighten, his breath coming short as the full weight of his stupidity settled in. Harry Potter. Lily's son. The son of the woman he'd loved since they were kids. The woman he'd never stopped loving, even when she married that insufferable git James Potter.

Snape's greasy hair clung to his face, his expression a mix of horror and regret. It couldn't be. He'd never wanted this. Sure, he hated James with the fire of a thousand hexes, but Lily? Lily was the only good thing in his entire miserable existence.

And now, because of his blind loyalty to the Dark Lord, he'd basically served her and her son up on a silver platter.

His mind replayed the scene from the Hog's Head, where he'd overheard the prophecy—the same prophecy he'd so eagerly reported back to Voldemort. He hadn't known at the time who it referred to. How could he? But now... now it was crystal clear. It was Lily's son. It was Harry.

And here he was, standing among Death Eaters, with the Dark Lord plotting the downfall of the only person he'd ever truly cared about.

I have to fix this. I have to save her.

Not Potter, obviously. If James got what was coming to him, so be it. But Lily... she couldn't die because of this. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

Snape made up his mind. His greasy hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding with a rare mix of fear and determination. He would go to Dumbledore. As much as he loathed the idea of turning to the old man for help, it was the only option. Dumbledore could protect her. He'd have to.

And so, with a heavy heart (and still fueled mostly by selfish reasons), Snape resolved to do whatever it took to save Lily. Because at the end of the day, despite everything, she was the only person who had ever truly mattered to him.

Even if that meant betraying everything else.

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