Author's note
This is a one-shot response to the Royalty and Nobility challenge on the livejournal community thematichp. It is very unlikely that there will ever be a sequel.
----
Severus' grandmother had been a Seer.
She had only met him once before she died. At just three months old, Severus had been too young to remember her, but the words she had said were repeated to him by his mother once he was old enough to understand them.
One day, you will become the King's servant.
There was no mention of who the king was, or what Severus' duties would be. Just that one simple sentence.
At age fifteen, he had searched the Hogwarts library for information about royalty. He found mentions of muggle royalty, foreign Wizarding royalty, even British Wizarding royalty although that family seemed to have died out centuries ago.
He found nothing that might indicate who the king was that he was one day to serve.
--
At eighteen, Severus first heard of the Dark Lord. Rumours only, but those rumours suggested that the mysterious Lord Voldemort might one day rule the world.
As the Dark Lord's power grew, and all of Wizarding Europe began to fear him, Severus began to suspect that this was the king he was to serve.
At the invitation of Bellatrix Black, he joined the Death Eaters. He dedicated himself to serving faithfully, and managed to become a favourite of the Dark Lord.
Something felt wrong, though. The deeds he was forced to do sickened him and his master terrified him. Some of the people he had once felt respect for committed atrocities, and others ended up murdered in their homes.
The murder of a small, muggle child sent him fleeing desperately to his childhood home, collapsing onto his old bed, and wondering how his grandmother could have condemned him to this.
His mother had always told him that his task, his role would be an honour. That he should be pleased to serve. How could he be pleased to serve the Dark Lord? He scratched at his arm, unconsciously trying to rid himself of the awful Mark hidden under his sleeve.
It occurred to him, then, that his mother had told him once that his grandmother had smiled after delivering the prophecy. That she had been happy for him. How could she have been happy, at this?
Suddenly, he sat up straight, as a realisation came to him. She had not been happy at this, she had been happy at something else. Something in his future.
Voldemort was not the king he was to serve.
--
It took courage, and careful planning, for Severus to visit Dumbledore, to beg his forgiveness and aid. To his gratitude, the Hogwarts headmaster accepted him. Even the horror of having to spy on the Dark Lord was worth such forgiveness.
Voldemort was delighted by his teaching post. His Dark master had always had a queer obsession with the school, and particularly with Slytherin house, over which Severus was soon granted leadership.
He became more favoured than ever among the Death Eaters. He endured all that he had to, because he knew that one day, it would be over.
--
The Dark Lord's sudden defeat caused chaos among the Death Eaters. In the commotion, Severus was able to slip away unnoticed, back to his childhood home, where once again he sat on his old bed, and put his face into his hands.
He had guessed that Voldemort would be defeated, though he had had no real idea how that would happen. A baby, though… not in his wildest imaginings had a baby played a part in the Dark Lord's defeat. The shock was overwhelming.
It should not have shocked him as much as it did. He had been the one to pass on the prophecy to his master, before his defection to Dumbledore. He knew a child would be born with great power. He had, indeed, thought about that prophecy many times – but he had believed that the child would somehow escape the Dark Lord's notice, that the defeat would not come for a decade or more, until the child had grown up.
It was Potter's child. The boy he had hated in school, who had teased and tormented him. James Potter's son had defeated the Dark Lord - before he was even old enough to speak.
For a while, Severus contemplated the idea that this child would become his king, but he arrived at the conclusion that it could not be so. Power did not equal royalty, and as far as he knew the Potters had no monarchs in their ancestry. He still had yet to meet the man he would serve.
--
Four years after he was declared innocent in a trial, he met a foreign, muggle-born princess. She attended a European school of magic where he was visiting a colleague, and he was told that she was the daughter of a muggle prince.
He hung around the Austrian school longer than he had intended, hoping that someone in her family might be the one that he was to serve, but after no signs came to him, he gave up and returned to Scotland.
--
A few years later, Harry Potter came to Hogwarts. Severus' first reaction was hatred. The child looked incredibly like his father, and Severus was sure that he would also act just like James.
By the time he realised how different Harry was from his father, Severus hardly cared. He was used to the idea of treating Potter badly, and felt little need to change.
--
The return of the Dark Lord was unexpected and unwelcome. Severus was forced to resume his spying duties, and with Voldemort now aware of his connection with Dumbledore, he was forced to pretend to spy on the Order as well. His life became rather complicated.
Desperation began to grow in his mind. All his life, he had believed utterly that his grandmother's words were the truth, that one day he would be the servant to a good king. And yet, here he was, 36 years old and no king had yet appeared.
In despair, he almost began to believe that Voldemort might actually be the king she had talked about after all.
--
It was while he was in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – Grimmauld Place, formerly the residence of the Black family – that he came across a book which changed his life.
Books of prophecy were notoriously difficult to understand. They were usually old, few Seers having been born in recent centuries. They were also often only found in archives belonging to the Department of Mysteries, locked away from the public eye. Those found outside the Ministry were generally fakes, but every so often a real prophecy book was found, usually hidden away in the collection of a very old Wizarding family.
This book, found lodged behind an old Wizarding history book he had taken out to look for any mentions of royalty, could have fit into either group. The Black family had been around for centuries, but they had also had more than their fair share of liars and thieves. He would not put it past certain members of the Black family to forge a book of prophecy.
Interested despite himself, he flicked through the book. To his untrained eye the prophecies looked just like those he had heard from his grandmother, but a good forger would undoubtedly have done far more research than he ever had.
He was just about to close the book, when a single, short paragraph caught his eye.
The prophesied king will be born. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will take his throne. The kingdom of Atrea will one day return.
He stared at the words. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Two prophecies could not say the same words, and refer to different people. And no doubt was in his mind as to who those words had applied to. He had never doubted, not since one baby had survived the killing curse.
Harry Potter was to be his king.
--
Severus went back to Hogwarts in something of a daze. The boy he had despised for so long was to be his sovereign, his master. Memories flickered through his mind, times when the two of them had interacted, when he had belittled the boy, even tormented him.
All his life, he had professed to devote himself to the person who would be his king, and yet…
He had not known. Had not believed that it could possibly be him. He knew Potter's parents, had met his father's parents. There had never been any indication that Harry was royal.
King Harry.
His future master hated him, and that… that was bad.
His grandmother had smiled, had been happy for him. Why? How could it possibly be a good thing that he would be in servitude to Potter? To that ignorant, spoiled little…
The boy who had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. It made sense.
For the next few weeks, Severus spent all his free moments searching through Hogwarts' library, for any mention of a place, person or thing named Atrea. He found nothing, and his free moments were frustratingly few. Teaching, attending meetings and spying occupied the vast majority of his time.
At last, in sheer frustration, he blurted out a question during a debrief with Dumbledore.
"Have you any idea what Atrea is?"
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, regarding Severus with surprise. It wasn't often that someone managed to completely blindside the headmaster.
"Atrea? I do recognise the name, but… why? Was it mentioned at the meeting?"
Severus shook his head, both annoyed with himself for his loss of control, and hopeful that he might at last be given the information he sought. "No, it wasn't… it's not related to the Dark Lord. I just need to know."
Dumbledore regarded him, and Severus stared back, daring the other man to question him. After a moment, Dumbledore shrugged.
"Atrea's a name I've heard a few times, always in connection with Wales. I don't know exactly what it is. Possibly a place name, although it doesn't sound very Welsh."
"Wales." It wasn't the details he had been hoping for, but after so many weeks of searching it was a major relief. Now, at least, he knew where to focus. He would look for books on Wales – Welsh history, geography, important figures. If necessary he would go to Wales itself.
"Will that help you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"It's a start," he replied, and promptly moved the conversation back onto the latest Death Eater raid.
--
The next day, he started researching Wales, and from then on every free minute was spent on this task. He concentrated on books of history and mythology; Atrea seemed unlikely to be something modern. Hogwarts' library tended to focus mainly on English and Scottish history, so once he had exhausted its limited supply of Welsh sources, he apparated into Wales itself, buying and lending both magical and muggle books.
With Potter now having left school, Severus was thankful not to see him in Hogwarts. However, he could not avoid going to the Order Headquarters forever, and Grimmauld Place was now Harry's home.
He met Potter coming out of the kitchen door, and for once in his life Severus just stood there, with no idea of what to say. He had spent weeks thinking about this boy, about this man who was destined to be his master. This was the person he had spent his entire life preparing to serve, and it was also the boy he had hated since his birth. He simply stood there in indecision, not knowing whether he should act as his normal, snarky self, or attempt to make peace with the future king.
Potter sent a puzzled look his way, and just pushed past him towards the stairs.
--
Severus had employed every device he knew of to make his research go faster. He had used quick-reading charms, and scrolled through indexes. He had even found a spell to allow him to read the Welsh language.
Finally, after exhausting weeks full of teaching, Death Eater and Order meetings, frantic research and very little sleep, he came across a small, leather-bound journal. The pages were old and frail, and the writing was in a tiny handwriting which strained his eyes as he read it. He was almost falling asleep when he suddenly jerked awake. He read the paragraph again, making sure that he'd read what he thought he had.
The other wizards have surrounded us. The English muggles have already taken control of most of the muggles around us, and now their wizards seek to take possession of our land too. Atrea says that he must hide, that it is the only way for us to survive, and perhaps he is right, but the cost will be tremendous, and we are all afraid. I do not know if Harlech will ever see its king again after tomorrow.
He turned the page, desperate for more, but there were no further entries in the diary. Had the writer died, or had he simply stopped writing for another reason?
Atrea was a person. A king. His was the kingdom that was to return. Why had he hidden? Why would his absence aid his people in a war against English wizards?
The writer of the journal did not seem to associate frequently with Atrea; at least, he had not been mentioned in any previous entries. And yet, that paragraph did imply some type of familiarity. How big was this kingdom? Perhaps the size of a small town?
If the people of the kingdom had stayed, and been overrun by the invaders, perhaps their descendants were now among the population of Wizarding Britain. It had been centuries… nearly a millennia, in fact, since the time he approximated this journal had been written. There must have been interbreeding with the English at some point. There were probably hundreds of descendants of every survivor by now. He might even be a descendant himself. Could that be why he was to serve the king?
At least now he had a starting point. He knew Atrea was from Harlech, and he could estimate approximately when the king had lived. His research now should be a lot easier. He would find out what he needed to know.
--
Over the Christmas vacation, Severus left Hogwarts, and arranged for a place to stay just outside Harlech. On the Tuesday evening, he found himself so engrossed in searching through a local library, that it was several seconds before he realised that his left arm was on fire. Swearing to himself, he left the library and apparated to the Dark Lord's side.
Normally his apparations were smooth and dignified. This time, he fell onto his face, as he felt a spell knock into him. Anti-Apparation charms had just been set in place.
As he stood, he realised instantly the reason for the urgent summons. Death Eaters, Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix were fighting fiercely in a huge field. With them were others… ordinary people. As he swirled around in shock, he recognised shopkeepers, colleagues, and a multitude of former students, Harry Potter and his friends right in their midst.
There had never been a battle like this before. Never had this many people stood against the Death Eaters. Never had they been so greatly outnumbered, without any easy way to escape. He hesitated, and then sent a curse flying towards somebody in black robes. There was no longer a need to maintain his cover. These Death Eaters were going to lose.
His arm burned, and he looked to the right. The Dark Lord was there. He did not doubt that his former master had observed his betrayal, but Voldemort's concentration was focused solely on the centre of the battle – on Dumbledore, and on Harry Potter, who stood by his former headmaster's side.
Some of the fighting faltered as people took in the Dark Lord's presence. Many people from both sides ran away in fear. Others paused, and then continued, afraid that if they stopped fighting they would be killed.
Severus stood there for a moment, and then headed for the centre of the field, pushing past the crowd of people fleeing from You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord and his opponents were simply standing there, calmly. It felt like the epicentre of a tornado.
He reached the centre, and took his place next to Potter. He felt the confusion from some of Potter's friends, but ignored it. This was his place, now, regardless of his own feelings about the boy. As a teenager, he had sworn to serve his king, and now, at last, he was doing so.
If he had to die in the service of his sovereign, he would. Somehow, though, he was confident that he would not. His grandmother had been happy for him. Surely he would live, so would his king… and therefore, Voldemort would die. If not today, then another day.
They stood there, three Order members facing one Dark Lord. Around them the fighting continued, but it seemed almost mute, as if the sound didn't quite penetrate the bubble. All of them were focused totally on this confrontation. All of the fighting that had gone before was almost inconsequential. It was this small battle that was important.
Then the calm broke, as Voldemort raised his wand.
--
For once, the Dark Lord wasted no time with trivialities. He simply pointed his wand in Harry's direction, and cast the killing curse.
At the same time, Dumbledore stepped in front of Harry.
It happened so fast that nobody could do anything. The curse hit the headmaster's chest, and he began to reel backwards.
He never made it to the ground.
Instead, a cry of "No!" pierced the battlefield. Severus stared incredulously as a dark green mist poured out of his king, surrounding Dumbledore, stopping him from falling, and then suddenly, somehow, the headmaster was coughing, trying desperately to get his breath back.
The battlefield was suddenly, absolutely silent. Even the Dark Lord looked stunned.
A moment later, the silence was broken.
"You're Atrea's heir." The words were spoken softly, incredulously by Nymphadora Tonks.
"What?" Harry turned to her, his shock showing clearly. His hands were shaking, and he had to move his wand to one side to avoid any sparks hitting Severus.
"You reversed the killing curse. You're Atrea's heir." She was staring at him, and most of the other people on the field were doing the same thing.
Severus' eyes were solely on his former master.
"Potter!" He dragged Harry out of the way just in time, as Voldemort tried again to send a fatal curse towards his king.
"Concentrate on the battle!" he hissed into Potter's ear, before setting him straight on his feet.
This time, as Voldemort began to chant another killing curse, three other curses hit him. Severus, Dumbledore and Harry had all spoken at the same time, and three different colours of light had streamed out of their wands.
The combined force hitting him at once would only have been enough to knock the Dark Lord unconscious, but all three of the spells had first travelled through the green mist, which still surrounded Dumbledore.
When Severus reached down to check the body, there was no pulse to be found.
--
It was in an unused classroom at Hogwarts that Severus was finally given the answers he had searched for for so long.
"All of the Blacks are descended from the people of Harlech," Tonks explained to the room full of people. "My aunts never cared much about the family's history, but my mother Andromeda was fascinated by it. She found all kinds of records in the family vault, which she still has. When I was a child, she used to tell me stories about our ancestors."
"And what did she tell you about Atrea?" Dumbledore glanced at Snape as he asked, obviously remembering his potion professor's earlier interest in the name.
"He was the ruler of Harlech. He had special powers, things that were passed down to him from his father and grandmother – powers only the eldest children in his family possessed. One of them was the power Harry used today."
"He brought people back to life?" asked Lupin.
"No, that's not it. He could reverse the killing curse, but only if it was mere seconds after the curse was cast. Kind of like restarting a heart which just stopped."
"So what happened to this… Atray?"
"Atrea," Severus corrected Mrs Weasley tiredly.
"When the English invaded Harlech, there were certain wizards in the invading force who Atrea didn't want to know about his powers. He feared that they might try to somehow get the powers for themselves, and he was afraid that his people would be harmed in the process.
"So, he told his people that he was leaving, and that he was going to bind his powers. To be honest, I think he was just tired of them. Unfortunately he didn't know a way to get rid of them without binding all of his magic. His people tried to convince him not to, but he refused to listen, he said that he would become a muggle. He left, and the others surrendered to the invaders."
"He became a muggle?" Severus had not expected this.
"Well, it was never confirmed, but probably."
"Then Potter most likely gets his inheritance through his mother, not his father," Severus mused. That explained why his investigations into the Potters had yielded nothing. Could that also mean that he was descended from Atrea himself, through his muggle father? A millennia later, there could be hundreds of descendants, and only one would have inherited Atrea's special powers.
"But why would I get the power now?" Harry spoke for the first time. "I mean, if the magic has been bound for all this time, why was my mother a witch? And does this mean she has these superpowers too?"
"It's impossible to know for certain, Harry," Dumbledore told him gently. "Perhaps Atrea never meant for his family's powers to be gone forever. Lily might have had his powers without ever knowing about it, or she may even have known but only told your father. We may never know for sure."
--
Severus visited Grimmauld Place a few nights later, assured by Dumbledore that Potter would be the only person there. He had already told the headmaster about his grandmother's prophecy, and now he had the task of telling his future king.
"Professor?" Harry appeared as he stepped out of the floo. "Dumbledore said you wanted to see me?" He didn't look happy at the prospect, but at least he wasn't throwing Severus out of his house.
"I have something to tell you."
"He said that too. Um, do you want to sit down?"
They both sat at the kitchen table, and Severus paused for a moment and then said abruptly, "My grandmother was a Seer."
"Okay…"
"When I was a child, she prophesied that I would one day become the servant of a king."
Harry's eyes widened. "What?"
"As a young man, I believed that king to be Voldemort. However, it has been a long time since I have believed that. I am now certain that the king is you."
"What? Why? What?" Potter's reaction was almost comical.
"There is another, much older prophecy which states that Atrea's kingdom will return, and that the man with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will take his throne."
"What? This is stupid. I'm not taking any throne. And what kingdom anyway? The descendents of Atrea's people are probably spread all over Britain, if not the entire world, and the Ministry would never give up control!"
"I have no knowledge of how it will happen. I simply know that it will. Every other prophecy my grandmother ever made has come true."
Potter rose from the table. "Then this one has to be the exception! I don't want to rule anything! I want to be an auror, and play quidditch, and get married, maybe to Ginny. I'm not a king, and I don't want a kingdom."
Snape nearly replied sarcastically, then caught himself. Potter was no longer his student, but the man he was to serve; insulting him would be unwise.
"Hey!" Harry blinked as he suddenly realised something. "Do you mean you're going to serve me?"
"That is the prophecy, yes," Snape replied neutrally.
"Then it's got to be a lie! You'd never…"
"I am sitting here telling you that I will, am I not?"
Harry stared at him, gobsmacked.
"If it had been my choice, I would not have chosen you for my king Potter, but I have dedicated my life to doing my duty to my sovereign. That will not change. You have my allegiance."
The stunned silence continued as Potter merely stood there gaping.
"I have brought you these books." He dropped two volumes onto the table. "The paper slotted into each marks pages you should read. One book contains a prophecy about you, the other is a journal which mentions Atrea." Snape rose from his chair, and headed for the fireplace. "I will leave you now."
With one final glance at the still shocked Harry Potter, he stepped into the fire and went back to Hogwarts. He had now found his sovereign, declared his fealty. One day, he would personally serve King Harry; one day, the kingdom of Atrea would return. For now, though, he had a potions class to prepare for, and wolfsbane to brew.
Destiny could wait.