Always - Chapter 1 - The Doe Patronus

-1-

The Doe Patronus

The grounds of Hogwarts were more solemn than usual. Voldemort, the greatest threat to both wizards and muggles alike, was dead, his followers scattered or entombed in the prison of Azkaban. A great weight rested on the shoulders of Harry Potter, the boy who lived.

Many of his friends and those who had sworn to protect him had done so with their lives. He read the names off a list in his mind over and over.

Hedwig

Dobby

Fred Weasley

Remus Lupin

Tonks Lupin

Ted Lupin

Albus Dumbledore

Sirius Black

Alastor Moody

Amelia Bones

Lavender Brown

Colin Creevy

The names kept ticking off until he came to one last name.

Severus Snape.

Professor Snape, whom Harry had thought to be an enemy and betrayer, it turned out, had been his closest ally, even more so than Albus Dumbledore, late headmaster of Hogwarts and Harry’s friend. Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house and master wizard. Severus Snape, who had constantly picked at and whittled down the young boy and his friends since he’d arrived at the school when he came of age. Severus Snape, who, at his dying breath, wept and begged Harry to collect the tears. Severus Snape, whose ability to summon a patronus belied more about the truth in his soul than his cold, bitter, seemingly emotionless persona. Severus Snape ... the man who had loved Lily Evans with all of his heart. Severus Snape, the man who had protected Harry.

“Blimey, Harry. Didn’t you hear us calling?”

Harry gazed up at Ron and Hermione. “No ... sorry. I was lost in thought.”

Hermione put a hand on Harry’s arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sighing softly, Harry shook his head. “I just can’t believe how wrong we were about ... about Professor Snape.”

“Whaddya mean?” asked Ron, his befuddlement marring his brow. “He killed Dumbledore, didn’t he?”

“Dumbledore was dying already. It was one of the horcruxes – the ring of Marvolo Gaunt. It cursed him. Snape kept the curse from spreading with potions but it was Dumbledore who put the task on Snape to control his death. Snape didn’t want to do it. He didn’t. Dumbledore made him. It was a mercy killing. I remember them talking in the tower. I overheard Snape say that Dumbledore was asking too much ... that Snape didn’t want to do it anymore. He must have been talking about being a spy and killing Dumbledore so Voldemort would trust him.”

“That’s mental!” breathed Ron.

“I knew his hand looked funny,” Hermione said as she sat beside Harry. “I couldn’t believe, no matter what you thought of him, that Professor Snape would murder Dumbledore.”

“It was bad news, that ring.”

“Well, if it isn’t the pureblood, the half-blood and the mudblood,” drawled the voice of Draco Malfoy.

“What do you want, you foul git?” growled Hermione, leveling her wand right at Draco’s nose. “Want to take over where Voldemort left off? Noseless, friendless and ugly?”

Draco’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I was going to say that it’s clear that mudbloods and halfbloods are our future. Pureblood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Look at Crabbe. He damn near got us all killed.

“Potter ... I came to thank you, Weasley and Granger for saving us back at the school. You didn’t have to do it.”

“Yeah, Malfoy, I did. I couldn’t leave you to die. When you’ve seen as much death as me, you got to do what you can to save whoever you can, even if they’re not friends.”

Draco’s pale cheeks reddened. “About that, Harry ... I was kind of hoping that could change. You’ve done things ... fought things that would make me faint from fright. I couldn’t kill Dumbledore, not even when surrounded by Death Eaters. I know we got off badly but I’m hoping you’ll see it to forgive my nastiness. You too, Ron and Hermione. Was trying to impress my dad, but you’ve met him ... you know he would never be impressed by the likes of me. You taught me more about character than he ever did, Harry. I can’t believe he was going to use the killing curse on you second year after he put that diary in Ginny’s cauldron. Mum was furious. Glad you freed Dobby. He deserved to be a free elf. Dad was beside himself with fury.”

Harry stood upright and offered his hand to Draco. “One can’t have too many friends and we’ve already lost too many good wizards and witches.”

Draco shook Harry’s hand, then offered his hand to both Ron and Hermione. Ron was less enthusiastic, but more because of how he’d resented Draco’s treatment of the girl he’d grown to love dearly. “Blood doesn’t matter. Talent matters, and though my father would loathe me to say it, I feel I’m standing before the greatest wizards and witch of our day. I just wish Professor Snape were around to see our victory against ... your victory against Voldemort. All these years, he was a double agent. I never would have guessed.”

Harry nodded. “He was the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

Draco’s attitude had completely changed and for that, the three were most pleased. “I’m headed back to the castle,” Draco said softly. “Been helping Mum in the hospital wing. Feels nice to be helping people.”

“Yeah, Draco. It does, doesn’t it? See you later?”

“Yeah, Potter. And thanks again.”

Draco trotted back up the path and the three were alone once more.

Ron was about to say something when a great black owl with luminescent gold eyes fluttered near with a letter it its beak. The bird was as black as Hedwig had been white, little speckles of light against the inkiness of its feathers. The owl landed on Harry’s shoulder, dropping the letter into Harry’s hand.

“Wozzit?” asked Ron with great enthusiasm.

Harry looked at the handwriting on the outside and nearly dropped it. “This handwriting! It’s ....”

“That’s Professor Snape’s handwriting!” Hermione finished. “How could it be? Well, go on! Open it!”

Harry opened the letter and sure enough, the writing was definitely the hand of whom he once thought his greatest adversary.

Harry,

I owe you an apology. From the time I saw you at the sorting ceremony, I knew you were James and Lily Potter’s boy.

I failed your mother more than once. I spoke a word of unutterable cruelty to her in a fit of anger and shame for which she never truly forgave me and I never forgave myself.

It is very difficult to confess, but I loved your mother from the moment we met. She was being denigrated by your aunt and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was going to be a witch of great power.

When I saw you, I saw your mother's eyes and how I know she would have been saddened by what I have done. I did it to protect you, Harry. I tried to protect your parents but I was too late. The dark Lord had already murdered them.

I see in you the son I might have had if the fates had been kinder. Your bravery and kindness would have made them both so proud.

Lily, before I threw her friendship away, gave me a glimmer of hope. She was sorted into Gryffindor and I, Slytherin.

My growing attraction to dark arts pushed me further from her.

I put my trust in the wrong person as did your father, Lupin and Black when they trusted Peter Pettigrew, and I threw my lot in with the dark lord.

I would have died to protect Lily, and have died protecting you. I wish I could have done more. I was wrong. You had your father’s courage to stand up to your adversaries and had your mother’s great capacity for love and compassion.

I pray that happiness will follow you the rest of your days, for you have seen far too much death and misery in your young life, Harry Potter. Thank you.

Severus Snape, Order of the Phoenix

P.S. The owl’s name is Agamemnon. I know you lost Hedwig when fleeing London and although he can never replace what was lost, you might find yourself fond of him in time. He was bought specially for you, dear boy. Please take good care of him. Also, would you kindly tell George I am terribly sorry for cursing off his ear. I was attempting to hit the Death Eater pursuing him and they moved before into my line of sight after the curse was cast. I would never have knowingly injured him. Please. SS.

Ron and Hermione were silent with shock. The young witch found her voice first.

“Professor Snape was your mother’s first friend in the wizarding world? Whoever would have thought?”

“It was him, Hermione. It was Snape that sent the doe patronus to show me where the Sword of Gryffindor was. His patronus was a doe ... like my mother’s.

“Don’t you see? Everything Snape was ... he did it to protect me. How could I have not known? I was so angry with him ... hated him so much ... why didn’t I see through it?”

“Harry, don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Hermione matter-of-factly. “People who had known Professor Snape for decades didn’t even know. He was the greatest occlumens that Dumbledore had ever seen, and that’s saying a lot, Harry.”

Harry sighed heavily. “I wish I could have gotten to know Snape better. He was probably the bravest man I’ve ever met. My dad, Sirius, even Lupin ... they treated Snape ... Professor Snape ... Severus ... they treated him horribly. They bullied him as badly as Dudley bullied me. Worse. Severus never did anything to my dad. He was just ... an easy target. He was just a kid ... he didn’t deserve any of it. I understand ... why he hated me. I look like my father ....”

Harry remembered Snape’s worst memory. It was the one that had caused him to lash out at Lily Evans. The time where James Potter and his Marauders viciously humiliated the young Severus Snape – Snivellus, as they called him – in front of his classmates and Lily by hanging him upside down and causing his pants to fly off, revealing his underwear. Seeing that memory made Snape banish Harry from Occlumency lessons made the professor despise the student more than ever. Harry couldn’t blame him. After seeing things from Snape’s memories, Harry had to admit that his father had been a swine to the studious, socially awkward Snape.

“I wish Fawkes could have healed him. There was so much more to Professor Snape than anyone ever knew. Dumbledore told me I could trust him ... I should have listened. Maybe if we’d been there sooner we could have saved him ... I ... I ....”

“Voldemort was there, Harry. You would have been without help besides Ron and me. If you’d have thrown away Professor Snape’s sacrifice, he’d probably have come back to haunt you as a ghost.” Hermione looked deadly serious.

The owl hooted softly, his bright golden eyes gazing unblinkingly at Harry. Harry raised his hand to gently pet the bird and Agamemnon affectionately nibbled one of Harry’s fingers.

“Snape got you an owl, Harry,” said Ron in shock.

“I hope I’m worthy of him.”

Ron wondered if Harry meant the owl or Snape, but thought it best not to voice that thought.

“It’s nice, don’t you think,” interjected Hermione brightly, “to be out here looking at the sunset without fear for the first time in years?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. His eyes went down to the boatshed. He wanted to talk more with the man who had given so much to protect him. “When I dueled Snape after he put Dumbledore out of his misery, Snape never hurt me. He knocked me back, disarmed me, but he could have killed me with absurd ease. He wanted me safe. You should have seen,” Harry said, tears suddenly flooding his eyes and rolling down his cheeks, “you should have seen how disgusted Professor Snape was when ... Dumbledore told him I had to die. He accused Dumbledore of keeping me alive so I could die at the proper time. He loved my mum so much that, even through his hatred of my father’s actions towards him, he grew to care for me. He made mistakes, but damn it ... he deserved some love and compassion as much as any of us!”

Harry started to run, heading to the boatshed. Ron and Hermione sprinted behind him, catching up with Harry as he hit the door. Inside, there was no body. There were only bloodstains on the boatshed floor and windows. “Someone must have come to get him. I want to find his body ... give him a proper burial. I want to take him to Godric’s Hollow. Lay him to rest next to my mum. It only seems right.”

Harry’s eyes noticed something in the darkness. It was tarnished and covered in blood, but he could make out that it was some kind of jewelry. He picked it up with care, revealing it to be a locket. On the back of the locket were the initials SS. Beside it rested a black wand with intricately carved patterns on the handle “These are Professor Snape’s,” Harry said softly, opening the locket and revealing two portraits within. One was a very young girl who Harry now knew to be his mother shortly before she received her letter to Hogwarts. The other was a young Severus Snape.

Hermione leaned in for a look. “Professor Snape was kind of cute and he looks so happy and sad at the same time. Is that your mum, Harry?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s beautiful. No wonder Professor Snape fell in love with her.”

Harry gazed at Hermione. “It wasn’t just her looks, but her kindness that Professor Snape loved. She treated him like a person, and even when he got sorted into Slytherin, she still treated him like a person. They were best friends.” Harry sighed softly. “I think if my dad were in our same year now, he and I wouldn’t have gotten along much. You know I don’t like bullies.” Harry handled the ebony wand with utter reverence, noting just how complex and lovely it was – very much like its late owner. “This wand should be buried with Professor Snape. I’ve got to find his body.”

Harry went outside the boatshed and over to a rocky rise of land. He found a large loose bit of granite and used his wand to levitate the stone, moving it to the outside of the boatshed. Planting it solidly in the ground, he used the wand to inscribe the rock.

Headmaster Prof. Severus Snape

died May 2, 1998.

Here is where the true hero of the second wizarding war was murdered in cold blood by

Tom Riddle, Jr. aka Voldemort.

He was the bravest man I ever knew.

Hogwarts, Scotland

“It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.”

“I think it’s wonderful, Harry. It shows true character.”

“It’s the least I can do after all he did for me, Hermione.”

Off in the distance, a black shrouded figure watched down over the three young students. Black eyes darted as a gloved hand absently rubbed the figure’s neck.

“I thought I might find you here.”

“It’s as close as I dare get.” The words were raspy and harsh, dropped into the conversation intentionally and deliberate. “There are those who would not be pleased to see me.”

Minerva McGonagall put her long, thin hand on the shrouded figure’s shoulder. “They would understand. You were in a difficult position that only you and he knew about. It was the only way to destroy every last horcrux and defeat Voldemort forever. The Deathly Hallows are gone. Harry saw to it. Broke the elder wand in two, Granger said. You are the closest thing family the boy has in our world. Had things been a little different, it would have been you who had been the boy’s father. You should see him. He should know you’re not dead.”

“I should stay dead, Minerva. He has a chance to leave all this behind. I would only be a reminder.”

Minerva McGonagall brought her sternest gaze on him. “Severus, please see to reason. You are alive and I know Harry would want to know. It’s just lucky that Neville found you in the boatshed.”

Severus Snape, former potions master, Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and Headmaster of Hogwarts rubbed the cut on his neck absently. “I am a death eater. That’s all anyone will see me as, Minerva. Dumbledore’s not here to protect my worthless hide now.” There was a tone of misery in his voice.

“Harry won’t, Severus. Harry’s become one of your greatest assets, and we now know the truth behind your apparent betrayal.”

“I am a betrayer of all, Minerva. Harry hates me.”

“He doesn’t, Severus. He wouldn’t let them remove your portrait as headmaster. Anyone speaks ill of you and he is right there to defend you. I don’t know why the change of heart, but Harry respects you, Severus. I daresay he even admires you. So many dead and wounded in the war. He deserves to know you are alive. He needs someone in his life who knows everything about his life. You and Lily were good friends once. That boy needs someone, Severus, and I’m quite sure she’d want you to be that someone, especially now.”

Snape gazed at McGonagall and sighed, then took to the air like smoke, headed down to the grounds where Harry and the others were walking, heading back to the castle. He appeared before the stone Harry had set, feeling his throat tighten as McGonagall’s words were reinforced by what he read there. “Murdered in cold blood ... Harry ....” Silently, he took to the air once more, catching up within a few hundred meters of Harry and his friends.

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to rise. He was being followed. The large, bat like shape moved as he did, silent as fog across the moors.

“Hermione!” Harry whispered harshly. “Hermione ... we’re being followed. I don’t know by whom, but I want to find out. You and Ron go on ahead, but stay within shouting distance.”

“Wonder if it’s a Death Eater on the lam,” Ron stated helpfully.

“What an awful thing to say, Ron!” Hermione grabbed Ron’s sleeve and dragged him off ahead, leaving Harry behind, but keeping a watchful eye on their friend.

Harry continued walking, but as he neared a clumping of trees, he darted behind one, waiting there for the follower, his wand at the ready. A light rustle of fabric beside him announced the follower and Harry jumped out from behind the tree.

“Who are you? Why are you following me? What do you want?”

The shrouded figure raised his hands, palms open, to show he meant no harm. He pointed to the black wand in Harry’s hand. “Please,” came the harsh sound. “Borrow.”

Harry kept the black wand and handed his own wand to the stranger. “No funny business!”

With a raspy voice, he whispered, “Expecto patronum.”

A bluish-silvery light shot from the figure’s wand, a doe developing and tracing a trail around Harry. It stood beside Harry, rubbing its head against him. “What I want, Harry Potter,” the voice rasped, “is a second chance.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “It ... you can’t be! I saw you die!”

The moon peeked out from behind night clouds, pouring pale light down upon Harry and the figure, revealing long black hair that framed a pale face like curtains, a prominent hooked nose and eyes so dark as to appear like glistening onyx. “Your friend Neville and his abilities with herbs and plants gave me reprieve until he could fetch Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout.”

“Professor ....”

“No longer, Potter. I am simply Snape now.”

Emotions he’d tampered down for days came bubbling to the surface and Harry threw his arms around Snape. The older man stiffened, then relaxed, letting his own hands touch the young man’s back, uncharacteristically trembling. “I couldn’t let myself believe you were truly dead,” Harry cried against Snape. “I know life isn’t fair, but you being dead ... it was just too much to bear. Not after seeing what you wanted me to see ... Severus ....”

“Harry,” Snape said softly, pulling the boy tightly against him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry ... for everything.”

“Blimey!” uttered a new voice as the two – teacher and student – parted.

“Punctual as always, Mister Weasley.”

Hermione gaped as well. “P-Professor! Harry ... Ron ... I ... we saw you die!”

Snape sighed. “I passed out and I very nearly did die, but apparently he staunched the bleeding enough to prolong my life. Harry died, if you recall. Perhaps, Miss Granger, there is reason enough for both of us to stick around.”

“The letter?” Harry injected quickly. “How did you manage that?”

“An enchantment; a simple charm. The letter would find its way to you when the time was right.”

Harry gazed up at Snape, his eyes so like Lily’s that Snape imagined her standing beside the black haired youth. “I understand, Professor Snape. I understand why you did the things that were asked of you. Even Dumbledore. Thank you.”

Snape gazed off in the distance, past the flickering fires within Hagrid’s hut and to the noble turrets of Hogwarts. “I assumed – mistakenly – that you would be like your father, who had enjoyed the best of everything in his life. I was looked down upon by those I encountered. But not Lily Evans. Not until ....” Snape trailed off, mortified that he was spilling his darkest secrets to these three children but unable to stop.

“What did you say to my mother that hurt her so, Professor?”

His face was impassive, but his eyes were filled with shame. “I ... called her a mudblood.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. Malfoy had called her such. It was the worst insult a muggle-born witch or wizard could know.

“I instantly regretted it, but the damage had been done. Instead, I buried my emotions and swore to forget about our friendship, but the more time passed, the more I grew to love her. I begged Dumbledore to protect Lily, James and their infant son and told him I would do anything he asked of me. Even though we were too late for Lily and James, Dumbledore smuggled Harry away and put him in what we thought was safe protection. We learned it was not the case, and it deepened my hatred of the muggles. Petunia Evans was not only horrible to the woman I loved, but was viciously uncaring towards an innocent child, just because of her own jealousy. When you arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledore told me it was only a matter of time before Voldemort returned and that if I really loved Lily, I should protect you. When the time came, Dumbledore asked a heavy price of me and I paid it. Dumbledore was my friend – or as close to a friend as I allowed myself to have – and the knowledge that I was to be the one to end his life weighed heavy in my heart. And the look in your eyes when you thought I’d murdered him ... I didn’t want to do it ... I didn’t want to go with them ... I didn’t want to be a spy anymore ... but I had to give you time to find and destroy the horcruxes.

“I know you blame me, Harry, for all that I have done; the losses you suffered. But know that you cannot hate me any more than I hate myself.”

Harry reached out, his hand firm against the former headmaster’s shoulder. “Professor Snape ... you are the bravest man I have ever known. I didn’t know my father as well as you did, and I know from the Occlumency lessons that he wasn’t as perfect a man as I envisioned him to be.

“He did terrible things to you, and I am angry for that.” Harry stopped for a moment. “It was you! Aunt Petunia always referred to mum hanging around ‘that horrible boy,’ and I thought she meant my dad. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Snape looked at Harry, his eyes deeply penetrating. “Yes. I wasn’t intimidated by her, even being younger. She treated Lily with contempt and I returned the treatment to her.”

Hermione coughed softly. “Harry and Professor Snape are more alike than one might think. You were both raised in muggle homes without love or compassion. You are both bright, clever and highly skilled. You are both capable of great love and great anger. You both do the right thing, no matter the personal cost to yourselves.”

Snape looked about ready to utter a sarcastic remark at the young woman but his brow furrowed and he nodded almost imperceptibly. “Muggleborn witches and wizards are some of the best I’ve ever known, Lily Evans and yourself, Miss Granger, being two of the most notable. It’s as if the magic has been gathering up for generations until it can no longer be denied. I’m sorry for treating you so harshly, Miss Granger. You reminded me so of Harry’s mother that I dare not let myself feel any affection for you.”

“I knew you weren’t as bad as you seemed,” Hermione said as she moved closer and wrapped her arms around Snape. The older man felt himself returning the hug. As Hermione pulled back, Snape looked at Ron.

“I’m sorry to you as well, Mister Weasley.”

Ron shoved his hand out to Snape. “I was Harry’s mate ... what else could you do, right?”

Snape gave a small smile as he took Ron’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“What have you been doing, Professor?” asked Harry.

Snape showed the bandage on his neck where Voldemort had slashed him. “Healing. Nagini’s venom was much more difficult to remove. Had the snake not been destroyed when it was, the poison might have made my revival impossible.” Snape’s dark eyes darted around the grounds. “Someone is coming. You should go.”

Harry gazed up into Snape’s face. “I’m not afraid. You didn’t murder Dumbledore. The pensieve showed the truth of it.”

“I am still weak, Harry.”

“Where are you staying?”

Snape grimaced in pain. “I have been moving about, trying to remain undiscovered. Minerva – that is, Headmistress McGonagall knows of my presence here on the grounds, and of course Professor Sprout and Madame Pomfrey, but as far as anyone else, I am still deceased.”

“But Neville found you. Why didn’t he tell me you were alive?” Harry seemed hurt and a little angry.

“Madame Pomfrey modified his memory. He doesn’t remember saving my life.”

“Right then,” said Harry. “You’re coming with us.” Harry pointed the black wand toward

the school. “Accio invisibility cloak!”

They waited for a time until they heard a rustling sound. From off in the distance, light was bending around a shape in the night sky. Soon, the invisibility cloak rested in Harry’s hand.

“You drove me batty with that thing, Potter. I knew you were there in the hall when I was confronting Quirrell, but I just didn’t get to you. You were a clever ... wonderful boy.”

“Guilty as charged.” Harry grinned. “Now it’ll serve us well.” Harry slid the cloak around Snape’s shoulders. “Stay close to me, Professor Snape.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione surrounded Snape, leading him up though the grounds and into the school. They didn’t meet too many people, though Mrs. Norris seemed to notice the fourth member. She gave a reproachful meow, then left them alone. They led Snape through the common areas, then into Gryffindor Tower.

Neville met them just at the portrait. “Hullo, Harry, Ron, Hermione. Coming up? Wait a minute. I know that formation ... who’ve you got with you? Who’re you sneaking in?”

Hermione held up a finger. “Tell you inside. Hurry, Neville. Hold the door open, would you?”

Neville nodded, but as was his wont, went to step in the same direction as Harry, then back again when Harry moved back, stepping on Harry’s foot in the process. It went on like this for several awkward moments before the hole in the middle uttered, “Would you be so kind as to move along, Longbottom? Potter’s cape smells of dust and old socks. And owl.”

Neville glared hard at the hole between Harry, Ron and Hermione. “That’s—”

“Go on, Neville,” said Ron sharply. “Want to get ‘em in before some wanky Slytherin comes ‘round!”

“Do you wish me to dock points from your house, Weasley?”

“Hush, all of you!” snapped Hermione in a hushed whisper.

They ushered Snape up the stairs and into the Gryffindor common room but a misplaced shoe pulled the cloak right off of him and suddenly, it was if a ghost popped into view.

Seamus’ eyes popped open wide. “P-Professor Snape?”

Many of the Dumbledore’s Army members held their wands at the ready, but Harry stopped them.

“Professor Snape isn’t our enemy. He was our greatest weapon against Voldemort. He was our spy. Our double agent. My ... friend.”

“But you’re dead!” said a startled Dennis & Nigel together.

“Rumours of my untimely demise were greatly overstated,” Snape replied dryly.

Hermione helped Harry move Snape to a sofa. “Let the man sit. He’s been gravely wounded, needs rest and to be protected.” She gazed to Ron. “Ron, get some food.”

Snape was reeling. Not only had he been returned from the dead, these Gryffindor students who had once stood against him were now aiding him and protecting him. He almost chuckled at the irony of the whole situation.

“He’s Slytherin,” said one of the first year students.

“And he murdered Dumbledore!” raged a fourth year.

“He saved the lot of you,” snapped Harry. “D’you think if the Carrows had been allowed to have free reign over the school it would have been good for anyone? Professor Snape frequently interceded to have detentions served helping Hagrid. And he didn’t murder Dumbledore. Dumbledore made Professor Snape kill him. I was in the tower. I saw. Dumbledore wasn’t begging Professor Snape to stop, he wanted his suffering to end. I was wrong about Professor Snape. All these years, he was protecting us. All of us. Slytherin or not, I trust him with my life.”

Snape made a sound that was much like a raspy chuckle. “I was of Slytherin. I am no longer of Hogwarts.” His dark eyes followed around the common room. It was as warm and cheery as Slytherin house was dark and dreary. Had that blasted hat sorted him here ... he never would have been in position to protect Harry and help bring about the Dark Lord’s demise.

“I see Potter has found you,” McGonagall’s voice rang crisply across the room. “It’s good to see you, Professor Snape.”

“Indeed. It was not my suggestion to have him bring me to the Gryffindor common room, but apparently Potter thought this would be a place to keep me safe.”

“And right he was, Professor Snape.” McGonagall clapped her hands sharply. “Off to bed with you, students. Potter, Granger, Weasley – help me get these damp robes off Professor Snape.”

Snape suffered the indignity of having his robes and frock coat stripped down until he was in his shirt sleeves and trousers. There were spots of glistening red though the crisp white shirt.

“I warned you that skulking about on the damp moors would hinder your healing, Professor Snape.”

“Professor McGonagall, is there a room here that Professor Snape might use while he’s recovering?” asked Harry.

“I couldn’t,” Snape said dryly. “The former head of Slytherin house holed up in Gryffindor? Why, you’d never hear the end of it.”

“I don’t care,” Harry said forcefully. “You belonged here as much as any of us. That hat wanted to sort me into Slytherin but I said I didn’t want to go there.” Harry looked embarrassed. “Draco Malfoy might have belonged there, but you didn’t.”

“The hat sorted me correctly, Mister Potter.”

“I should like you to call me Harry, Professor Snape.”

“Perhaps in off hours, but I can’t give the impression of playing favorites, now can I, Potter,” he said with his usual drawl, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes.

“Potter, Weasley, you two help Professor Snape up into the room marked CLOSED up on the route to your dorms. Miss Granger, you help me retrieve Professor Snape’s items and send them to that room.”

The two witches left for Snape’s former apartments while Harry and Ron helped Snape up the staircase to the room marked CLOSED. The room had been designated as closed for the entire time they’d been there, but upon opening the door, it was just a basic apartment and office space, very much like any other professor’s office. It was bathed in the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor, but Harry thought it would be more to Snape’s liking if they were the green and silver of Slytherin and flourished his wand to change the colors.

“Harry,” Snape said softly, “I appreciate the gesture, but I would just as soon be done with snakes, for reasons well apparent.”

“Oh! Sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“It is clear, Potter, that you weren’t thinking,” he droned, sounding very much like the professor Harry had come to dread in years past, “with your head, but instead, thought with your heart.”

He smiled wearily, a sight that he was sure might terrify many of the students, but in his state, he couldn’t care less about that. The bed in the room was in better state than the one he’d been sleeping on in his apartment in the wing that Slytherin had and the room itself was far more welcoming. It felt alien being there, after all those long years in Slytherin house, first as a student, and then as a teacher.

Snape’s long fingers began to unknot his cravat and unbutton the top of his high-collared shirt. As more of his pale skin was revealed, it became obvious as to why Severus Snape kept nearly every portion of his flesh covered. His skin was a myriad of scars, some very old, others quite new. The worst one was the fresh scar on his neck where Voldemort had slashed him with the Elder wand, wrapped in its bandages. The bite marks from Nagini were covered in bandages that were seeping blood.

Harry was staring at the marks on his flesh and Snape suddenly felt self-conscious. He hastily buttoned his shirt back up. “Do not let them concern you, Potter.”

But Harry was furious. “Did my father give those to you? Lupin? Sirius? Did they cause those scars, Professor?”

“Whether they did or did not, it matters little now. It’s past, Harry.”

Harry clenched his fists, hot tears in his eyes. “After all the things I accused you of doing, and you suffered by their hands ... Severus ... I’m sorry ....”

“Weasley, you may go. Thank you for your help.”

Ron seemed put out at first, but realized that Harry and Snape needed time alone. “Right, you’re welcome, sir ... I’ll be upstairs. G’night, Harry.”

“Night, Ron.”

Snape rose, looking out the window into the clear night sky. “I was jealous of your father and he was jealous of your mother’s friendship with a Slytherin. We were children then, really. And look at me. Do I not fit the role of villain well, Mister Potter?” he half-whispered in his rumbling voice. “If I could take a time-turner and go back, perhaps I would have changed things, but then again ... if I had, you would be a very far different young man than you are now, Harry. You are, I think, a better man for your suffering, even as I am for mine.”

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but I couldn’t have known a better protector than you, Professor Snape. I thought you were trying to kill me, but you were protecting me, up until the end. I never wanted you to come to harm, Professor. I took your tears to the pensieve, I saw what you did for us, for all of us. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

Snape turned toward Harry. “You can repay me by graduating, getting married to that sweet Ginny Weasley and having a mob of witches and wizards to haunt these halls. I daresay Hogwarts could use a few more Potters running around.”

Harry smiled, gazing up at the tall man. “As long as they can come visit their ... their grandfather Severus.”

Snape’s black eyes narrowed slightly, a soft crinkling around the corners. “That would be a nice thing, Harry, though I would probably terrify them as much as I do any other student.”

“You’re not so scary.”

Snape gave him a glare that would wilt mandrake roots. “Is that so, Potter?”

But Harry knew different. “Yes, sir, it is.”

There was a knock at the door and McGonagall poked her head in. “Are you ready for your things, Professor Snape?”

“I am, Professor McGonagall. At your leisure.”

Hermione and McGonagall stepped into the apartment and flourished their wands, making all of Snape’s belongings float out of a haversack and into the room. “I trust you can arrange your things as you see fit once you are feeling better, Professor.”

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall. For everything.”

Her sharp, wrinkled features twisted into a smile. “And you as well, for everything.”

Hermione smiled softly at Snape and Harry. “I’m going to head to bed. Good evening, Professor Snape. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.”

“Bye, Hermione.”

“Miss Granger.”

Once the door had been shut, Snape turned his full attention to Harry. “I was hard on you, Harry. The more time passed, the harder it was to maintain the charade. I am grateful that you have forgiven me.”

“You had every right to hate me,” Harry said suddenly, thinking back to Snape’s scarred torso. “My father and the marauders did horrible things to you, and I defended them.”

“Holding on to hatreds only makes one miserable and bitter. I learned that the hard way.” He coughed softly, then turned away from Harry. “You should best head up to your own bed, Harry. Your classes start early enough.”

“Let me at least tend your wounds before I go, please.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “No one must know about these, Potter.”

“I never told anyone about how you’d been treated, professor, not until after ... and Ron and Hermione wouldn’t tell another soul. We wouldn’t. Being bullied isn’t fun.”

Snape conjured some bandages and several smelly balms. “You and I are more alike than I would once give credit,” he said softly. “I think you would have defended me ... befriended me ... had you seen me being bullied. Much like you did for Weasley. His family is poor and yet, there is clearly plenty of love to go about.” Snape pointed to a greenish balm. “This is for the snake bites. You must push the balm into the punctures. It will hurt me, but it must be done. It draws out the toxins. The bluish balm is for the gash in my neck. Again, it will hurt me, but it must be done. You can do this, Harry.”

Harry nodded as Snape began undoing the tiny seed buttons that held his shirt closed, but Harry took over as the older man’s hands began to shake. “They’re small buttons and you’re exhausted. Let me.”

Snape’s eyes darted from Harry’s hands to his eyes, seeing so much more of Lily in him than he ever acknowledged. He might have looked like James Potter, but Harry was definitely Lily’s son.

When the last button was done, Snape’s pale chest was bared to Harry, the bruising and wounds from his last stand with Voldemort overshadowing the older wounds, like the four long gashes he’d received protecting the trio from Remus Lupin after he’d transformed into a werewolf. And the faint punctures from where Hagrid’s tri-headed dog Fluffy had bitten him when he was trying to keep Quirrell from getting the Philosopher’s Stone. And, of course the dark mark, which had now faded into the faintest of scars.

“I should have trusted you, sir. I should have known. Even if you acted like you hated me, you protected me time and again.” Harry used gauze to pack the green balm into Snape’s numerous snake bites, looking abashed and distraught.

“I gave you no reason to trust me. I gave nobody any reason to trust me, except Dumbledore. It was exactly as we planned ... except for watching Lily’s son grow up before me.” Snape grimaced as Harry poked the green salve into one set of bites.

“Sorry, professor. I’m trying to be gentle.”

“I know you are, Harry. You are as gentle as your mother was.” Snape watched Harry. It was so strange to him that this boy would show such care for him, as if the past seven years meant nothing. “Some of these are from your father, some from Black, a couple from Lupin and Pettigrew. Most are from my father, who thought it was good sport to beat on a child that couldn’t fight back. I wanted a child of my own, to prove that I could be the kind of father my own never was. But your mother was my only friend and you know what I did to destroy her friendship with me. In my bitterness, I was harsh with every child. I proved more than capable of being very much like him. The love I tendered for your mother was my only redeeming quality.”

“Loyalty is another, professor. And you have mine.” Harry finished packing the last of the snake bites and went to remove the gauze covering Snape’s neck, gasping as he saw the ugly wound. “If I’d only gotten to the boat shed sooner ....”

“Potter ... Harry ... you couldn’t have beaten him then. He believed he was the wand’s master. It was the plan. Everything was planned ... but I didn’t expect ... to be cut down like that.”

Harry studied Snape for a moment as he was applying the bluish salve to the healing gash. “Severus Snape, my father was a fool to have dismissed you as an ally. I owe you so much ... I can only hope that over the next several decades, I can make up to you all the hard times you had with my dad.”

Snape put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his dark eyes meeting Harry’s light ones. “You already have. Everything you’ve done for me since Voldemort attacked me has filled me with joy, and no small amount of sadness, because I see so much of Lily in you. There in the boat shed, I truly saw you as Lily’s boy, and I wanted you to know why I was so hard on you.”

“There was so much more to you than any of us ever suspected. Even Dumbledore.”

“Regret, guilt, remorse ... they can drive us to do things we never, ever thought imaginable. Even Longbottom, as horrible as I was to him, wouldn’t leave me to die. He said he did it because of you. You’ve touched more lives than you can possibly imagine, and not merely as the boy who lived. You forgave ... this wretched man.”

“Neville killed Nagini. He summoned the sword of Gryffindor out of the sorting hat and cut off her head.” Harry finished draping gauze around the neck wound. “And you nearly died, spending years in lies, all to protect me. Your grief at what happened to my parents ... your love ... it erases everything else.”

Unspoken gratitude hung between them, binding the teacher and student together. Snape would still give his life to protect Lily’s son and Lily’s son would do the same for him. Harry closed up the salve jars and rose, then turned to Snape, holding out his hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Professor.”

“And I,” Snape said, shaking Harry’s hand firmly, “am glad I am as well. Now off with you. I am weary.”

Harry started to depart, but his eyes shone brightly. “Professor! One moment! I’ll be right back!”

Harry left Snape in his room alone and took the stairs up to his bed chamber two at a time. He was gone for a few minutes before Snape heard Harry’s feet on the stone stairs. Harry came into the room with two items in his hand. “These belong to you, Professor Snape. I thought you would want them back.”

Snape looked at the two items – his wand and the locket – eyes wide in disbelief. “Harry ... where did you find them?”

“Down in the boatshed. When you revealed yourself to me, I’d had them in my pocket but I forgot about them.”

Snape took his wand slowly from Harry’s hand, looking it over as if it were a cherished heirloom. “This wand served me well and I was afraid it was gone forever. And the locket ... did you open it?”

Harry nodded. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The older man gazed at the youth with eyes that betrayed a myriad of emotion behind an otherwise impervious facade. “I never expected to see this again. It was a gift to me from your mother ... before I lost her love. If I hadn’t been so determined to impress her ....” Snape looked at Harry. “...you might have been my own son,” he uttered softly, horrified at his own words but unable to keep them bottled up within any longer.

Harry met Snape’s eyes, unflinching, without judgment. “It doesn’t distress me, Severus. If my mother had chosen you over my father ... you have more than proven your love for her and I don’t doubt that you would have loved me as much had I been your son.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll let you get some rest. You need to build up your strength. Good night, sir.”

Snape’s brows furrowed slightly, deepening the line between them a bit. “Good night, Harry. Oh ... don’t forget your own wand. I notice, however, that it is not the Elder wand. You are its rightful master.”

“I destroyed it. Thought it was better left forgotten. Dumbledore’s the only one I would have trusted it with anyway, and I had thought it killed you. I didn’t want it after that. Sleep well, sir.” Harry took one last look at Snape, then pointed his wand at Snape’s bloodied shirt, saying, “Scourgify.” He remembered his father using that spell on Snape and turned back to his former professor, striding across the room and hugging him briefly. “I would have defended you, and made you a good friend, regardless of what house you were in. I’ll really be off this time.”

As Harry left, Snape gazed at the rather unimpressive collection of items that he possessed. He’d never saw the need for trinkets and trappings. He had no family, so no portraits or paintings lined his walls. He owned one set of garments which he wore daily, one pair of boots and one cloak. The only items he had that one might call frivolous was the scarf and gloves that Lily had made for him so many years ago, during one very bitterly cold winter and Snape had owned nothing more than his school uniform.

“Grandfather Severus?” he said with a chuckle that sounded more like he was strangling. The wound on his neck was still causing him discomfort and his voice was hoarse as if he’d been screaming for days on end. He noted with some wistful satisfaction that Harry was now calling him professor or sir without being prompted. He’d finally earned Harry’s trust, affection and respect.

Wearily, he took himself down to his undergarments and donned a grey nightshirt, but not before catching sight of the scars that criss-crossed his torso. It made him feel strange that Harry had been furious seeing those scars and demanding to know if his father and his gang had caused them. Once he would have felt a perverse satisfaction that James’ own son befriended him, but now, he felt no joy knowing that his injuries of the past troubled Harry deeply.

“I bear you no ill will, James,” he said softly. “Things are as they would be and those who were murdered at Voldemort’s command are avenged.” A single tear slipped down his cheek. “I’m sorry I could not save you and James, Lily. I tried ... I tried and I failed and not a moment goes by that I don’t regret.”

Snuffing out the candles, Snape stoked up the fire in the small fireplace and settled himself into bed. But sleep wouldn’t come. With a sigh, Snape tossed back the covers, drawing on a dark robe and lighting his candles once more. He heard something out in the common room. Pocketing his wand, he moved to the apartment door and opened it, moving down to the great room with its massive fireplace. He caught sight of a student sitting on a sofa before the fire. Neville Longbottom.

Snape needed to talk to the youth, and being alone now with him afforded Snape opportunity. He approached silently and was only a few feet away before Neville noticed him. The young man jumped in his seat, starting to rise and, presumably, flee.

“Longbottom, please stay. I wish to speak with you.”

Neville just stared at Snape.

Snape took a step closer, then stopped as he noticed Neville pulling away. “I know I have no right to ask your forgiveness, Neville. My anger, self-hatred and bitterness was directed, unnecessarily at you ... at Harry ... Hermione and Ronald.” He went silent for a moment. “Thank you for saving my life, Neville Longbottom. I’ll ... I’ll leave you be.”

As Snape turned to go, Neville spoke out. “Why? Why did you hate me so?”

“I didn’t hate you. I hated myself and took it out on you.”

Snape felt a hand on his arm. “Sit, sir ....”

He sat on the sofa beside Neville, his face looking quite haggard in the firelight. “I owe you an explanation ... but no explanation could change what happened. I would rather have died myself than have the cruciatus curse inflicted on your parents.”

Snape proceeded to explain to Neville what he had done, and how the prophecy had been interpreted and how Neville could have just as easily been the chosen one. “You reassembled Dumbledore’s Army, you led a rebellion against me ... you summoned the sword of Gryffindor and killed Nagini – saving my life twice. Longbottom, I’m sorry I terrified you so much that I became what you feared most. I can’t expect your forgiveness. I’ve caused you too much pain.”

Neville took in all that Snape told him in silence, then looked up at him. “I can’t forgive you, Professor Snape, because you haven’t done anything that needs forgiving. Harry said you were under orders from Dumbledore and that you were doing all this to protect us, to protect him. I remember being in the boatshed. I remember how you said you deserved to die. I stand by my decision to dress your wounds and put a bezoar in your mouth. You had to be mean to us, didn’t you? I mean, when Voldemort got his body back, what else could you do?”

“I didn’t want to do it anymore, but I owed so much to Dumbledore and when he told me I must be the one to kill him, God help me, I did. Seeing Harry’s face when it happened ... It was all I could do to hold myself together. I had to make everyone hate me in order to protect them.

“You didn’t have to save me, and I still think you should have let me die, but I thank you for putting aside your hatred for me and doing your best.”

Neville shook his head. “No, Harry told us that you’d been working for Dumbledore since Voldemort first gained power. Told everyone you’d been Dumbledore’s man from the start. I believe you were doing what you thought was best. Voldemort was a horrible creature ... he tried to recruit me for his pureblood army ... I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. He’d have had to kill me. Professor Snape, I’m sorry you had to do the things you did. You weren’t a pleasant man, but you were doing what you thought you had to do.”

“I know you’re doing very well in Herbology, and should you wish potions lessons, I’ll gladly tutor you. I know I made your classes unbearable, but I hope to rectify that. Herbology and potions work hand in hand.”

Neville nodded and gave Snape a soft smile. “I’d like that, Professor Snape. I’d better get off to bed.” He rose and said, “I’m not sorry I saved your life, sir. Not one bit,” offering his hand to the older man.

Snape gave him a soft smile, taking his hand and shaking it. “Thank you, Neville.”

Neville went off to his dorm, leaving Snape in the common room, staring into the fire. He happened across an older Daily Prophet paper, one published about a week after the battle of Hogwarts. Surprised, he found his image on the second page in.

The battle of Hogwarts has taken a deadly toll on both sides, with the majority of casualties among the dark lord’s forces, thanks to the quick action of the Order of the Phoenix and both students and staff of Hogwarts. With the death of Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort, the surviving Death Eaters are being rounded up and held pending trials by the Wizengamot.

Among the dead is former headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. While initial reports marked Snape as a traitor working for Voldemort and murderer of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Harry Potter maintains that Snape had been under direct orders of Dumbledore to end his life before a curse did, causing Voldemort to believe Snape was truly one of his Death Eaters, when, in fact, he was a double agent working against Voldemort for the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry Potter went on to say that Severus Snape was “the bravest man I ever knew” and fought tooth and nail to keep the late headmaster’s portrait in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts.

Potter’s best friend and schoolmate, Ronald Weasley, son of Ministry of Magic official Arthur Weasley could neither confirm nor deny the story but he did confirm that Snape gave Harry Potter a flask of his tears that the latter viewed within Hogwarts’ school pensieve, making him privy to the private arrangement between Dumbledore and Snape.

Fellow student, Hermione Granger, a highly talented muggle-born and top marks student of Hogwarts had this to say about her former teacher. “While not widely liked, Professor Snape had been watching out for Harry for many years and had saved Harry’s life on several occasions when Voldemort’s forces attempted to kill [the boy who lived]. He counter-jinxed Professor Quirinus Quirrell when [the former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher] had been trying to throw Harry from his broom to his death. Nobody knew it then, but Professor Quirrell had been conjoined with Voldemort and was acting as a horcrux at that moment.”

She went on to say that former convicted mass murderer Sirius Black had been innocent of the events which had claimed the lives of twelve muggles, and the body of Peter Pettigrew, of whom Black was accused of murdering, was later found, collaborating the wizarding trio’s story that Black was framed.

Potter added, “I wish Headmaster Snape were still with us. He was the true hero of the Battle of Hogwarts. He had played double agent and spy for our side since 1980.”

Potter also asked that we print the names of those who died protecting him from the Dark Lord’s forces.

James & Lily Evans Potter

Dobby, freed house elf

Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, former Auror

Frederick Weasley

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, Auror

Remus Lupin, former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and werewolf

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Severus Snape, late Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions Master and double agent against the Dark Lord.

For a complete list of names of the decedents, please turn to page 16.

As he looked at the photograph, Snape realized that he looked much older than his thirty-eight years. Being under cover for so long had aged him considerably in the past four years. He folded the paper and set it aside. “You’re a good man, Harry Potter,” he said to no one but himself. He stared into the fire, watching the embers rise up the flue. Snape regretted so much in his life, had made so many tragic mistakes, but even despite all his failings, people whom he had hurt were willing to give him another chance. He was going to prove himself worthy of their trust and belief in him. Especially Harry, after all the pain he’d caused the boy. With a weary sigh, he rose to his feet and limped back to the apartment, settled into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.