“Potter, it is a picture, nothing more. You’ll only upset yourself by talking to it.”
“But, Professor, it’s important!”
It was the day after they had come back from the meeting with Aberforth, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were having difficulty explaining to Professor McGonagall exactly why they wanted to visit Dumbledore’s portrait, which was hanging in her office.
“Well, I will not be the one to stand in your way, Potter, but really, I don’t see how this will do you any good.”
Harry rubbed his nose helplessly. There was so much they wanted to talk to Dumbledore about, but none of it was information they wished to disclose to McGonagall “ or anyone else, for that matter. Beside him, Hermione shuffled her feet.
“Oh, very well,” said McGonagall, looking as though she was doing this against her better judgement. “The password is ‘Witherwings’, but for goodness’ sake remember it is nothing more than a representation of Albus, Potter, it is not him.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, relieved. For a moment, he had thought she was going to refuse.
“I shall check with Albus what time will be appropriate for you to visit. But Potter,” added McGonagall, looking at him sharply. “I advise you to wear that Cloak of yours. It would not do for you to be seen at Hogwarts. The stories flying around the school have not died down; you might well be besieged by inquisitive students.”
That afternoon, the four of them sat in Harry’s bedroom, having hidden the locket Horcrux in the drawer of a writing desk in Hermione’s room. They had decided to ask Lupin for advice on how to destroy the thing before attempting it themselves, but he was away from Grimmauld Place that day. For now, it remained well protected under Hermione’s strong Concealment Charms.
As they sat flicking through several more dusty spellbooks that Hermione had brought from the Hogwarts library, sudden footsteps sounded outside the door. Lately, Neville had been shutting himself away for increasingly long periods of time, and they had thought it best to leave him alone. So when the door swung open, they all looked up in surprise to see him standing there at the entrance to the room, breathing deeply. Harry realised this was the first time he had seen Neville for several days, and looking at him now, Harry knew something was wrong.
His friend was looking worse and worse; pale, and thinner than he had used to be. But what gave Harry a shock was the fact that Neville’s eyes were different. They were no longer dull and blank, but tortured, wild, confused.
“Neville, are you all right?” whispered Hermione, looking almost scared as he stood there, frozen, one hand still clenching the door handle tightly.
“Yes,” Neville replied, swallowing and sitting down on Harry's bed. “ I mean “ no! I don’t know…I don’t know what I “ what I “ ”
Harry rose in alarm. Neville’s face was white and strained, and even as Harry looked at him, the blankness descended over his eyes again, like fluttering, shadowy curtains.
A memory stirred in Harry’s mind “ a nagging, half-suppressed remembrance of a dark night, the smell of damp leaves, a pair of mad, rolling eyes….
“Neville,” Harry breathed. “Hermione was right “ they did do something to you.”
Neville didn’t respond, but as Harry stared at him, he thought he saw a glimmer of life behind the blank gaze.
“Is he “ is he “” whispered Hermione, seeming scared to say it aloud. But Harry looked at her, and she looked back at them all, and Harry knew the truth as the full memory of that night with Barty Crouch in his fourth year hit him like a bag of lead.
“The Imperius Curse. It has to be. Neville!”
For Neville had risen from the bed with a sudden, uncontrollable jerk, and now he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs. In a flash, the rest of them followed.
They found him standing wildly in the kitchen, confronted by a bewildered Mrs Weasley. As Harry burst through the door, followed by Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Neville stepped backwards into a stack of clean saucepans by the stove and tripped. The clanging of falling metal resounded around the kitchen, and Mrs Weasley shouted, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Mum, he’s under the Imperius Curse!” shouted Ginny, as her mother stepped towards Neville, who was bent over, clutching his ankle.
“Be careful,” murmured Hermione, then raised her voice. “He’s not in control; he could attack you!”
“He’s not going to attack anyone,” said Mrs Weasley firmly, kneeling down.
“What’s going on?” Mr Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tall woman in yellow robes Harry didn’t know entered the room. Mrs Weasley looked up, a large smudge of flour on her forehead, and breathed deeply, taking control.
“Right “ Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny “ out!”
“But, Mum “ ”
“Out!” Mrs Weasley cried, brandishing a ladle, apparently under the delusion it was her wand. “Go! We’ll deal with this, go on “ get out now!”
They went, and Mrs Weasley shut the door firmly behind them. They could hear lowered voices, the sounds of Neville’s groans “ Ginny looked alarmed “ and Mrs Weasley’s voice, raised above the rest.
“When I said ‘out’, you lot, I didn’t mean just outside the door.”
“I hope he’s okay,” said Hermione anxiously, when they were seated on the beds in Harry and Ron’s room again.
“Never mind ‘okay’!” said Harry loudly, and she looked at him, shocked.
“Harry “”
“Hermione, you do realise what Neville’s been doing?” She shook her head slowly, worriedly.
“Spying on us.” It was Ginny’s voice, low and sad, that answered the question. “He must have been communicating with the Death Eaters…telling them our movements.”
“But how?” said Hermione. “He has no way of sending messages “ no owl “ and he hasn’t set foot outside the house since he came.”
“I don’t know how, but of course he’s been sending messages,” said Harry impatiently. “There were Death Eaters in Godric’s Hollow, right after we told Neville where we were going. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there were Death Eaters watching in Hogsmeade yesterday “ and at Azkaban. I thought there were too many Dementors around. I’ll bet it was Wormtail or another of those slimy gits….”
“I suppose so,” said Hermione. “But don’t forget, it could have been Percy.”
“Well, yeah…one slimy git looks the same as another, really….”
“Oh, very funny….”
“You lot!” They stopped arguing as Mrs Weasley’s voice floated up the stairs. “You might want to come down now.”
Harry jumped off the bed, and the four of them went downstairs.
“Neville?” he said tentatively, as they reached the kitchen door, which was shut. A second later, it opened a little, and Mrs Weasley’s head popped round the doorway.
“Never mind Neville, we’re dealing with him,” she said firmly. “Minerva popped back to Hogwarts to check with Dumbledore that you could go to see him, and she’s just returned with a message.”
“What did he say?” said Ron.
“He wants Harry to go to see him tomorrow afternoon. Yes, just Harry,” she added as Ron, Ginny and Hermione opened their mouths in protest. “He says there are things they need to talk about in private.”
And she retreated into the kitchen.
“Fair enough,” said Ginny. “Don’t even tell us what you’re doing to Neville.”
“Neville will be fine,” said Hermione, though she looked a little anxious. “I’m more interested in what Dumbledore wants to say only to you, Harry.”
“‘The truth’, that’s what Aberforth said,” shrugged Harry. “Dumbledore always did like keeping secrets from me; maybe he’s regretting it now that that he’s dead.”
“Harry!”
“Well, it’s true,” said Harry mutinously. “It would’ve been a lot easier for both of us if he’d just told me the truth when I asked him in first year.”
“Yes, well, he chose not to and I think that should be good enough for all of us,” said Hermione firmly. “Come on, let’s get back upstairs,” she added, as the sound of raised voices and more groaning floated through the heavy wooden kitchen door into the hallway.
That day was doomed to be a bad one. Straight after lunch, Harry managed to see something he would certainly rather not have. Neville had been put to bed with Mrs Weasley’s assurance that “he’ll be back to normal when he wakes up,” and Harry found himself on his own, the others all having wandered off to do their own things.
After a while of lying on his bed doing nothing in particular, Harry decided to seek Hermione out. He’d been wanting to ask her for advice; Christmas was just three weeks away and he hadn’t given Ginny's present a thought. Harry reckoned that Hermione, having been one of Ginny’s closest friends for several years now, would have a better idea than he of what to get.
So he slid off the bed, focused on Hermione’s room, turned on the spot and Disapparated.
A second of compression, a moment of not being able to breathe, and then he landed right on top of something large, moving, and very much alive.
“AAGH!” Someone screamed in his left ear and Harry nearly fell over in shock, frantically fighting to untangle himself. To his ultimate horror, he stared at Ron and Hermione, who had been kissing passionately right in the centre of the room until Harry had landed on top of them.
He was speechless with shock and embarrassment. Hermione, whose face had flushed to the roots of her hair, gave him one mortified, half-angry look and stumbled out of the room, the door swinging wildly behind her.
Ron wiped his face self-consciously with his hand as he tried to avoid Harry’s gaze.
“Ron, I “ I'm so sorry, I “ I just wanted to ask Hermione “” Harry stumbled over the words as he tried to think of something to say. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore never Apparated directly into other people’s rooms, he thought grimly. He would never do it again, that was for sure.
“It's all right,” mumbled Ron, still looking everywhere but at Harry. “I guess you had to know sometime. But knock next time, okay?”
And leaving Harry standing there still red with embarrassment, Ron walked out of Hermione’s room and down the stairs.
But the excitement had not ended there. Barely two minutes after Ron left the room, a shriek sounded from below, followed by shouting and what sounded like sobbing. Alarmed, and his embarrassment forgotten, Harry clambered downstairs to the source of the noise. The commotion was coming from the lounge, where Ginny had been playing with her pet; a Pygmy Puff named Arnold that she was very fond of. Harry opened the door of the lounge to see Ginny in tears, Hermione trying to comfort her, and Ron with one hand clapped over his mouth.
“Ginny, are you all right?” said Harry in alarm, striding over.
“All right?” Ginny wailed. It was at that moment that Harry noticed the tiny ball of purple fur on the stone floor; an extremely flat ball of purple fur. Arnold the Pygmy Puff would scurry around no longer.
“Ron “ Ron trod on him!”
And she burst into fresh floods of tears.
“Oh, right…” said Harry helplessly, as Ron collapsed into an armchair, aghast.
“It was an accident!” he said, guilt-stricken. “He’s so small I didn’t even notice him until “ well…” he trailed off uncomfortably. “I can buy you another one, if you like.”
But Ginny refused to be comforted.
Harry went to bed that night with his head pounding. He hoped fervently that tomorrow would be nice and normal, and that the chat with Dumbledore wouldn’t be too deep or revealing. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
The next day dawned cold and clear, and as Harry stood in Hogsmeade, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, he sensed that winter was on its way. He set off at a brisk walk for Hogwarts, finding himself half wishing that there were no anti-Apparition spells laid on the school and the grounds “ it would save his fingers, which were fast becoming numb in the chill wind.
Hagrid had been informed of his coming, and as Harry approached the Hogwarts gates, which were flanked with ancient stone boars, he saw the giant man striding towards him, each step covering six feet of frosty ground. A huge woman walked beside him, not an inch shorter “ Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons headmistress. Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and grinned as they approached. Hagrid waved.
“Alrigh’, Harry?” he beamed as he reached the gate and inserted the great iron key into the lock.
“Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry, raising his voice over the rumbling sound coming from the gate. The lock was vibrating violently; a brilliant flash of white light streamed from the keyhole and the gates swung open.
“’Arry Potter,” said Madame Maxime majestically, extending a huge but feminine hand, covered in sparking opal rings. Harry shook it awkwardly “ it was level with his head “ then let out a feeble, “Oh!” as the giantess raised an eyebrow. He supposed he was meant to have kissed it.
Hagrid chuckled, then said, “Minerva says yer goin’ ter have a talk with Professor Dumbledore, Harry.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Apparently there’s some stuff he wants to tell me.”
“Abou’ “ abou’ what yeh have ter do to get rid o’ Voldemort, I s’pose?” said Hagrid. Harry looked at Hagrid curiously. He seemed nervous and was twisting his heavy scarf in one massive hand.
“I suppose so,” said Harry. “I don’t know what else it could be.”
“Righ’. O’ course “ well, I’ll jus’ let yeh get on with it, Harry. Join me an’ Olympe fer lunch afterwards, if yeh like.”
“Cheers,” said Harry with a smile, and he began to walk in the direction of the castle, donning his Invisibility Cloak as he went. Hagrid and Madame Maxime set off towards Hagrid’s wooden cabin.
“Good luck, Harry,” Hagrid shouted after him. He was still twisting his scarf anxiously, finally ripping it in half. Harry thought it was a strange thing to say, but he let the Cloak slip off one arm and raised it in a wave.
When Harry entered the school, he was surprised at how empty it felt. Normally there was a continual distant murmur of sound “ pupils talking in classes, ghosts chatting in the corridors, teachers’ voices floating out of open classroom doors. There were people here “ glancing into random classrooms, Harry saw them, heads bent over parchment, and teachers walking around the desks, checking work over shoulders. But there were certainly fewer pupils than before “ evidently many had been kept at home by anxious parents “ and the atmosphere was different: graver, sadder. He glanced into a sixth-year classroom and saw Luna Lovegood vaguely tickling her own nose with her quill, but her schoolmates were all concentrating on their work. Harry supposed that with the number of parents and, in some cases, fellow pupils, having gone missing or been killed, the school just could not be the cheerful, safe place it had always seemed.
Sadly, he turned a corner, took a shortcut behind a tapestry, and sped along to the Headmistress’s office.
“Witherwings,” he said quietly to the gargoyle who protected the entrance, and the ugly stone sculpture sprang to life, jumping to one side. Harry stepped onto the familiar revolving spiral staircase, and was carried up towards Dumbledore’s office.
When he reached the top, Harry hesitated at the door. He knew the room was empty, but he was going in for a meeting of a kind; should he knock on the door and wait for the portrait to bid him enter?
He settled for clearing his throat loudly to announce his presence, then took off his Cloak, stuffed it into his pocket, and pushed open the door. He looked at once behind McGonagall’s desk, and saw the portrait hanging there on the wall. The portrait smiled at Harry, and looked at him over the top of its painted half-moon spectacles.
“Afternoon, Professor,” said Harry awkwardly, hovering at the door.
“Good afternoon, Harry!” beamed Dumbledore from the wall. “I hope you are well?”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry, wondering whether it would be pointless to ask the same question of his Headmaster; this was, after all, only a portrait of him.
The painted Dumbledore smiled as though he guessed Harry’s thoughts.
“I am remarkably well, you know. Being a portrait is very restful, even if the view is rather unchanging. Do take a seat, my boy.”
Harry sat, and for a moment there was silence between them.
“Is there anything you would like to say to me, Harry?” said Dumbledore finally, surveying Harry carefully with his bright blue eyes.
“I don’t know where to start,” Harry admitted.
“Perhaps we should start with the night of my death,” suggested Dumbledore cheerfully. “A good, meaty topic to start with.”
“There’s not much to say about that, is there, sir?”
“Why ever not?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows were raised.
“Well,” said Harry slowly, “you were wrong, weren’t you? After all you said…Snape was on the Dark side. And now he’s gone…that’s all there is to it.”
“Ah,” said Dumbledore apologetically. “I thought we might disagree on this point.”
Harry looked up disbelievingly. “Sir?”
“I am afraid, Harry, that I continue to trust Severus despite his actions last summer.”
“Despite his actions,” repeated Harry incredulously, standing up. “Professor “ he murdered you! Surely you can’t still say “”
“We continue to argue after one of us is dead,” interrupted Dumbledore, looking amused. “Harry, sit down. You must trust me; Severus is not to be blamed for what he did. He is misunderstood by the entire wizarding world. The Dark side believe he has proved himself a true Death Eater, and the side which you are on Harry, and which he is on too despite all the evidence against him, are convinced that I was wrong and he is Voldemort’s right-hand man after all. Even Minerva believes this still, though I have attempted to explain the truth to her. She does not agree. You must agree, Harry, or an innocent man will suffer unfairly.”
Harry just looked at Dumbledore in utmost disbelief. He could not understand how the old Headmaster could be so stubborn.
“Right,” he said, sitting back in the chair. “So Snape is innocent. Can you prove it?”
Harry expected Dumbledore to refuse; he had asked this question too many times to count, and Dumbledore had never given a satisfactory answer. But this time, he was amazed to hear the old man whisper, in a low, tired voice, “Yes.”
Harry sat up straighter. “You can?” he asked skeptically. “You can really prove that when Snape murdered you, it wasn’t really him but, oh, Bellatrix under Polyjuice Potion?” The sarcasm slipped out almost accidentally, and he wished he hadn’t said it, but Dumbledore merely smiled.
“No, it was Severus. But I am afraid that you do not know the whole truth.”
“So even after you said last year that you’d told me everything, you hadn’t,” Harry said flatly. He wasn’t too surprised.
“I wished to spare you a little more unnecessary pain, Harry, but when Severus’ life hangs in the balance….”
Snape’s life meant very little to Harry, but he conceded. “Okay. So what proof do you have?”
“You know where my Pensieve is, Harry “ bring it here.”
Surprised but curious, Harry went over to the cupboard where the Pensieve was kept, lifted the heavy stone basin in both hands, and placed it on the desk. Dumbledore was watching Harry with an odd expression, almost pitying, on his face.
“I had hoped for you never to see this, Harry “ will you not just take my word?”
Harry paused uncomfortably, but his curiosity was aroused now, and he knew he would not be able to leave the office until he had seen whatever memory Dumbledore had kept from him for so long.
“The Pensieve will take you to the correct memory,” said Dumbledore softly, seeing Harry’s silent refusal. “It has a peculiar way of knowing these things.”
Harry nodded.
“And try to remember, Harry…forgiveness is a very great thing.”
With these final, quiet words whispered from the wall, Harry breathed in deeply, readying himself, then plunged his face into the swirling silvery contents of the bowl. At once he was pitched forward out of the office and fell down through apparently endless dark. After a few seconds, his feet hit the ground with a jolt, and Harry discovered that he had landed in an empty corridor “ he was at Hogwarts. The ghost of Nearly Headless Nick drifted past, unaware of Harry’s presence, for of course, he was not really there at all.
The corridor was not empty, as Harry had thought; just seconds after he landed, footsteps sounded from around the corner and Dumbledore appeared, the younger, auburn-haired man that Harry had become accustomed to seeing in various memories in the Pensieve. Dumbledore swept past, humming quietly to himself, and Harry immediately followed in his wake.
For nearly five minutes Harry trotted along behind, wondering when something was going to happen, when suddenly, angry shouts and a girl’s horrified screaming sounded from below. Dumbledore stopped abruptly, locating the source of the noise, then rapped sharply on the wall beside him with one long-fingered hand. A passage appeared from nowhere and Dumbledore strode down it, emerging into a scene of utter chaos. Harry joined him, panting, and what he saw made his heart give a huge leap.
James Potter “ he looked to be in about sixth year “ was standing there, wand drawn and furious, the prone, bleeding figure of Severus Snape lying at his feet. But what shocked Harry most of all was that his dad was crying “ actually crying “ and it seemed the young, long-haired Sirius next to him was as amazed as he.
“You beast!”
Harry tore his eyes from his father’s face to see the sixteen-year-old Lily Evans knelt, shaking, beside Snape, green eyes filled with pure hatred and her gaze directly on James. Harry would never have believed someone could look so angry. A large crowd of students had gathered to watch the fun, but Dumbledore remained hidden in the shadow of the secret passage, observing silently with knitted brows.
“What makes you think you had the right to do this?” hissed Lily, standing up to face James. “Why can’t you ever leave him alone?”
“Lily “” James rubbed the sleeve of his robe across his eyes, evidently half-aware of all the wide-eyed students around him. But he did not defend himself. “Why did you do it? How could you?” he mumbled half-coherently, looking distraught. “I never thought “”
“Why did I do it?” repeated Lily incredulously. “I have perfect right to do “ what I was doing!” she said, glancing in embarrassment around her, and a few students laughed and wolf-whistled. “Are you not ashamed of what you’ve done?” And she gestured at Snape, who was still unconscious on the floor. His nose was very obviously broken, but as much blood streamed out from the great gash across his face as from his nostrils. Lily bent down, trying to staunch the flow with a muttered charm.
“Well, I reckon you did a good job there, Potter!” yelled a tall, dark-skinned boy from the middle of the crowd. “He had it coming to him!” The cry was backed up by laughs and cheers. Snape was evidently not too popular with his peers. Only a few people “ probably Slytherins “ looked less than amused.
“Get lost, you lot,” snapped Lily angrily, her red hair swinging over her shoulder. “Potter, I’ll thank you to stop interfering in my private life, and if you think you can ever make me want to go out with you, you are even less intelligent than you look.”
James looked stung as a ripple of laughter spread down the corridor, and was evidently struggling to think up a response. Harry was feeling completely lost. What on earth had his mother done to cause James to hurt Snape so badly?
Dumbledore chose this moment to step out of the passage.
“Miss Evans, Mr Potter,” he said in a clear, deep voice, and the rumble of students’ chatter died down. “I think Severus is in need of Madam Pomfrey’s aid. If someone would go and fetch her…? Thank you, Miss Fairling. Now, you two “ I will see you in my office in exactly five minutes.”
With that, Dumbledore turned around, sweeping down the path the students cleared for him and left the scene. Harry stayed with his parents, who were still glaring at each other.
“Come on, James.” After a while, a thin boy with brown hair “ the teenage Remus Lupin “ emerged, unsmiling, from the crowd and put his hand on James’ shoulder, steering him forward. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t worry, Prongs, he deserved what he got,” muttered Sirius, clapping James’ back and starting to walk towards Dumbledore’s office. “But I think you might’ve been a bit tactless, mate, with Evans and all that, you know….”
James followed Lupin and Sirius as though in a daze. Harry noticed Peter Pettigrew slipping out of the crowd to join them, wide-eyed. Lily waited until the hurrying form of Madam Pomfrey appeared at the end of the corridor, then she too left in silence, students moving back to let her through as they had for Dumbledore.
Five minutes later, Harry was back in Dumbledore’s office, this time in the company of his parents. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk as usual, his slender fingertips touching and the bright-blue gaze Harry knew so well fixed, for once, not on him but on his father. James half-heartedly tried to stare Dumbledore down, but after a second his gaze dropped to the floor.
Dumbledore’s face was very sombre as he spoke. “Perhaps you, Mr Potter, would like to explain to me first exactly what happened before I arrived on the scene just now. It appears I missed the excitement.”
James took a breath and began to speak, but then stopped, biting his lip and shaking his head silently.
Lily’s green eyes were still full of angry fire, and now she said with a quiet fierceness, “Professor, James attacked Severus for no good reason! Just because I “ I was with him in the corridor.”
“Indeed,” said Dumbledore softly. “And was this any incentive for James to perform such violent magic on a fellow student?”
“They weren’t just together.” James’ voice was so low Harry could hardly hear him. “They “ they “”
Lily looked at James, with one eyebrow raised.
“They were kissing!” James finally burst out, his voice shaking uncontrollably.
The room fell utterly silent. Harry stared at his father’s anguished face, stunned, and in that moment he knew that it must be true. Horrified, rigid with shock and unseen by everyone in the room, Harry collapsed into a small chair. One look at his mother’s expression confirmed everything. Harry, his mind screaming denial, could not tear his gaze from her face. His mum…his mum and Snape…. With these words playing over and over in his brain, Harry barely heard Dumbledore’s next words, which were quiet, calm and firm.
“James, you would do well to remember that the lives of others are never, or should never be under our control ... Severus was well within his rights. I shall expect you to go now to the hospital wing and give the poor boy a full apology when he wakes for the grievous damage you did to him. I think a detention is also in order.”
James’ mouth twisted at this; Harry guessed the detention meant very little to him, but the apology was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Miss Evans, you have done nothing reprehensible “ you may return to your classes….”
Harry felt the chair beneath him dissolve into nothingness, as without warning the room went black. He dropped through emptiness until light and colour returned, and he found himself in a very different memory. A glance around him showed Harry at once that he was in the staff room at Hogwarts, which was full of teachers, some whom Harry did not recognise. Outside the window, the sky was cloudless, darkening, and studded with very faint stars; it was twilight. Dumbledore was seated comfortably in a high-backed armchair, sipping tea and listening to the conversation of those around him.
The peace was shattered by the slam of a door right behind Harry. Unprepared, he jumped and turned to see the adult Snape standing there, his normally collected, expressionless face more agitated than Harry had ever seen.
“Headmaster!”
“Severus, whatever is the matter? You have come to report?” Dumbledore rose from the chair to face Snape, his blue eyes searching and alert.
“I have made a terrible mistake, Headmaster, there is very little time “” Snape was breathless, distraught, and Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.
“Please excuse us,” he said, addressing the other teachers. “We need a little privacy.”
And Dumbledore swept out of the staffroom, motioning Snape to follow. Harry slipped hastily out of the door behind them. Dumbledore strode to the Entrance Hall, opened the front doors, and stepped out into the grounds. Harry followed them, looking at Snape with a quiet, boiling anger. To think this man had ever dared go out with his mother…the first shock of the revelation over, Harry did not feel any more disposed to regard Snape as innocent.
“What has happened, Severus?” said Dumbledore calmly once the great doors closed behind them.
“The Secret-Keeper has betrayed the whereabouts of the Potters.”
Dumbledore stopped walking and stared at Snape’s shadowed face. “You have proof of this?”
“The Dark Lord informed us hardly less than a quarter-hour ago. He has ordered an attack in Godric’s Hollow tonight.”
There was a silence, in which Snape twisted his fingers together in agitation. Then Dumbledore spoke.
“You did well to come so quickly…but such treachery...” His voice was low and sad. “When friends turn on friends, the darkness has truly begun to prevail….”
“Headmaster, there is more.” Snape spoke with a desperate, agonised urgency. “Till tonight I did not know the consequences of my actions, but the prophecy “”
“I know that you overheard Sybill Trelawney that night at the Hog’s Head last year.”
“It was I “ before I left the Dark Lord’s service for yours, I told him what I had heard, but I did not know whom the prophecy concerned. If I had realised it was Lily “ Headmaster, you know “ you remember my schooldays, I would never have wished her any harm, and now, if anything happens, I am to blame “”
“Severus, listen to me,” said Dumbledore sharply. “Now is not the time for remorse. We must act, and with haste.”
Snape inclined his head. “I will do anything, Headmaster, to reverse what I have done. Give me your orders.”
Harry had been watching Snape closely through this exchange and now found himself confused, doubtful. Snape’s repentance and anguish seemed genuine, but Harry knew all too well how good an actor he was. As he stared at his old Potions Master, his mind torn with uncertainty, darkness descended around him like a mist, and Harry fell through nothingness into yet another time and place.
Around him was dust, rubble, and torn furniture “ the ruins of a small house. Dread crept into Harry’s stomach, and as he gazed around, seeing the nearby woods and the smashed baby’s cot lying amongst the broken stone, he realised that this must have been his parents’ house, his house, just after it was destroyed. He looked at the patterned wallpaper still clinging bravely to a half-standing wall and felt sick.
A small sound, like crumbling brick, came from behind him and Harry turned to see Dumbledore once again, this time standing gravely amid the ruins, the edges of his long white hair and beard glowing gold in the early morning sun. Sitting on a chunk of smashed stone at his feet was Severus Snape, his face gaunt and drawn.
“I suspected you might be here, Severus. However, it would not be wise to stay overlong; before long, the Muggle police will come to investigate.” When Snape made no answers, Dumbledore said quietly, “You must not judge yourself too harshly, Severus. Time was against us last night.”
Snape remained silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and harsh. “I am not sorry that Potter is dead.” Unseen and unheard, Harry swore at him.
But Dumbledore only sighed heavily, and did not speak.
“What happened to the boy?”
“Harry has been taken into the care of relatives. He will be safe there, if nothing else.”
Snape looked up at this, his greasy curtains of dark hair falling back to show his hooked nose in sharp relief against the lightening sky. He said slowly, “What does he look like?”
“Harry? He is a mere infant; however, he has black hair and already is beginning to bear a resemblance to James.”
“I had expected him to have red hair.”
“He is James’ son, too, Severus. But he has Lily’s eyes.”
Snape stood up abruptly. “I am leaving, Headmaster.”
“Well, I did not expect you to remain sitting on that cold block of stone any longer than necessary. It does look rather uncomfortable.”
Snape brushed down the front of his robes impatiently. “No, Headmaster, I am leaving the country. I have done too much damage; to stay here is to create more evil. I must leave; if not to do any good, at least to do no more harm….”
Dumbledore surveyed Snape from under his bushy eyebrows, but only waited in silence. When Snape spoke again his voice was very low, so that Harry had to strain to hear his next words.
“She died because of me.”
“You did not raise up your wand against her, Severus, you did not speak the words of the Killing Curse! Yes, you did wrong, but you can make up for it; to flee the country in self-pity is not the way.”
“There is nothing else I can do.”
“Yes, there is,” said Dumbledore simply. “Lily and James’ deaths do not mean that your job as Potions Master has evaporated. I need a teacher, and you are a remarkable hand at Potions.”
“Teaching….” said Snape slowly. “I hate students, did you know that?”
“Hate is not a word to be used lightly, Severus.”
“Very well; I merely despise them. But you are the one man who has stood beside me all this time, Headmaster, and if that is your wish, I will obey. I will Vow.”
Dumbledore met his gaze. “Is that really necessary?”
“Now I am without aim, without direction; once I saw power on the side of evil, but Lily’s death, and my responsibility for it…” Snape seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud.
“You alone have trusted me, Headmaster, despite what I have done. I am not well practised at trusting people, but perhaps you can teach me. I swear obedience to you, for as long as we both live.” And he extended his claw-like hand. Dumbledore was slow to take it.
“Severus, do you realise what such a Vow could lead to? I am a complicated, silly old man, and I do not always choose the right course. Sometimes trying to be too clever backfires rather nastily; I am not sure you would wish to obey my every whim. It would grow tiresome.”
“I am sure. Lily should have lived to see her son grow up. I will teach other children my skills, if you so wish, and Harry too, when he comes to Hogwarts. I offer you my service; this is merely a binding oath. For my sake as much as yours.”
And, very slowly, Dumbledore raised his arm and grasped Snape’s hand in his. “So be it.” He lifted his wand in his other hand, and placed it on their clasped fingers. “Severus Snape, do you vow to obey me, Albus Dumbledore, in every duty I ask of you?”
“I do.” A thin rope of flame streamed from the wandtip and entwined itself around their hands.
“And do you promise never to depart again from the side of good, and never to seek power or shelter in dark magic and old habits?”
Snape met Dumbledore’s eyes, as Harry stood watching, his doubts about Snape slowly and reluctantly, but surely, fading away. If Snape agreed to this one…what was it Ron had said about Unbreakable Vows? For surely this was one of them. Harry’s own words came back to him; “So what happens if you break one, then?” and Ron’s simple answer; “You die.”
Snape spoke. “I do.”
Harry stared at him in that early morning light, and felt the beliefs he had clung to for so many years come crumbling down.
Another tongue of flame shot out from the binding wand, curling about the wrists and hands of the two men in a dancing, fiery rope.
Dumbledore spoke just once more.
“Thank you, Severus.”
The memory dissolved, Harry descended into the familiar blackness and landed, staggering, in Dumbledore’s office “ in the present time, he was glad to see.
The portrait of Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly.
“I am sorry you had to see those memories, Harry.”
Harry had to pause a while to collect his thoughts, which were flying all over the place. He was not used to such intense sessions of truth-revealing. Dumbledore waited in silence, as did all the other dozens of headmasters and mistresses who were watching him from their frames with avid curiosity.
After a while, Harry said slowly, “It cleared things up a lot, I suppose. Him and my mum, I mean. And I apologise “ you were right about Snape all along. Because he would be dead now, wouldn’t he, if he had broken the Vow never to go back to the Dark side?”
The Dumbledore in the frame bowed his head in agreement. “He would. And Harry, Lily did not go out with Severus for very long; in fact, as I recall, the incident where James broke his nose and knocked him unconscious in his anger took place at the end of their sixth year. James and Lily, though none of us teachers expected it, became a couple sometime in the early stages of their final year at Hogwarts.”
Harry nodded. The thought of his mother and Snape ever having kissed still grossed him out a lot, but he tried his best to push it out of his mind for now.
"But I still don't see," said Harry slowly, "why he had to kill you..."
Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses upon his nose, and spoke again. "Well, now, that is a complex matter, rather unfortunate really...you see, I had ordered him to return to spy on the Death Eaters, and to keep his cover no matter what. But I did not foresee what would come of this... Severus came to me barely a week before last school year commenced, bearning the news that he had had an encounter with Narcissa Malfoy, who asked him to make another Unbreakable Vow, a Vow to protect Draco Malfoy."
Harry followed this as best he could. "So he had to agree to keep up the pretence that he was a true Death Eater?"
Dumbledore nodded. "To refuse would have shown his reluctance to commit to the Dark side, and in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was present, would have proved his loyalty to me. Torn by his own wishes and my orders to remain undercover, Severus had to Vow to kill me should Draco not succeed."
"Couldn't you have ordered him never to kill you?" said Harry. "He would have had to obey, because of the first Vow."
"That would have resulted in his inability to act under the terms of the second Vow. He would have died."
"Better him than you," muttered Harry mutinously.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, Severus asked me to do just that: order him not to kill me. I refused, for who am I to decide that my life is worth more than his? No, I ordered him to keep his cover, to stay obedient to the Vow he made with Narcissa and yes, to kill me when the time came."
Harry was speechless.
"It was better that way, though Severus wanted it even less than I. He grew angry with me, tried to force me to let him him off the hook. Once again, I refused. You saw his expression when he raised his wand to utter the Killing Curse, Harry...I am afraid he remained angry with me up till the very end. However, he evidently realised that refusing to kill me there would have resulted in not only his death but mine too. I was rather defenceless, I must say.
“And now that we have cleared that up, Harry,” said Dumbledore in a voice that clearly showed that the subject was closed, “it is time to move on to perhaps more pressing matters. As a mere picture on a wall I cannot help you much, but I would like you to tell me everything “ every single thing “ that you have discovered so far regarding those three remaining Horcruxes."
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