While Minerva gave a quick overview of how Severus came to be in the particular situation he was currently in, devoid of memories of his life as a wizard and raising an 11-year old daughter in the Muggle World, Hermione floo-called the Burrow to update Ron, who had been left in charge of his children as well as Harry's boys. Like nearly every wizard in England—and probably in Europe and America too—Stuart knew the story of Severus Snape giving his memories to Harry Potter as he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He picked up the bottle of memories, shining still with a soft glow reminiscent of muted fairy lights, and studied them. He then performed the same types of scans Poppy had already done on Severus, checking for magical damage or intentional blocks and for physical damage to the brain itself.

"What is the difference between knowledge and memories?" he asked when he finished, directing his question to no one in particular as he completed his scans and pocketed his wand.

"Memories have emotional components," said Severus as once. "Bits of knowledge can be initially committed to your brain by a memorization process, but once learned, are not recalled by calling up a recollection of a memory."

Stuart smiled. "Exactly. Memories are tied to emotions. When we use magic to remove a memory, then examine it through a pensieve, we can observe the events around the memory more objectively, without some of the emotional baggage tied to the original experience. Most amnesiacs retain knowledge when they lose their memory. It seems the emotional connection to the events is lost when the brain is impaired."

Severus nodded. "I remember being in hospital and hearing a robin singing outside the window and knowing the bird and its song. I knew I was in a bed, that the part of me that was bandaged was my neck. I could tell time. I could read."

"Yet you didn't know your own name, or where you had come from, or what you did for a living, or where you lived. Your memories of self were lost, and with them all the things that rely on your sense of self—your relationships, your family, your job, the people that populated your life." Stuart once again held up the jar of memories. "In here, however, are some threads of your past self." He glanced over at Harry, who was stretched out on an infirmary bed with eyes bandaged. "Keys to your recovery. A miracle that they still exist. My advice is that they be returned to you, but slowly, one at a time, with ample time between the return of one memory and the next to allow your brain to reform pieces of the complex web that once held these memories together."

"I might go mad," said Severus, bluntly. He held out a hand to his daughter, who scooted from one bed to the other, looking leery at her father's pronouncement.

"We'll monitor you closely," said Poppy. She glanced at Stuart for confirmation.

"Of course," he said. "And any memory, once restored, can be removed again if you cannot tolerate it…or how it makes you feel."

"But how will this help with this….this….erratic magic?" asked Severus. He waved his hand in the air, trying to indicate with a hand signal the butterflies, smoking ears and unexpected hair growth. However, the movement had the effect of extinguishing all the lamps in the room.

"Lumos," said Minerva distractedly, sweeping her wand in front of her. The lamps flared back to life.

"It won't," replied Stuart. "I'm a memory specialist, not an accidental magic theorist. We'll have to get someone over her from our children's department to help with that."

"I'd suggest you do that first," said Hermione. "He's a walking time bomb now. We haven't even seen him really angry or emotional yet! Harry, don't you remember what happened the summer after second year when you blew up your aunt…?" Harry groaned and put a pillow over his head. "Severus, can you get time off work this week, perhaps call in ill?"

"Call in ill?" Severus looked positively affronted. "But I'm not ill…"

"Actually, you are," interrupted Poppy. "Your magic is severely out of balance, Severus. Think about what Minerva said earlier—would you like to go back to your Muggle job and have to explain why butterflies and smoke pour out of your mouth and ears when you sneeze?"

"No, I suppose not," he grumbled.

"You haven't taken any time off all summer!" put in Anna suddenly. "And you promised me a holiday in Scotland visiting a new castle." She looked delighted with herself as she pulled on her father's arm. "And we're in Scotland and this is a castle!"

"You'll need to be quarantined," warned Stuart. "It really won't be much of a holiday per se…" He looked from Severus, who looked quite concerned, to Anna, who didn't seem too put out that her father would be quarantined while she was on holiday. She'd been in the magical world all of one day and already seemed quite willing to 'stay and play' while her father was subjected to who knows what kind of experimentation.

"Anna can stay with us," suggested Hermione. "We'll have James and Al anyway, while Harry's here, as well as Lily…"

"How long am I going to be here, anyway?" groused the reluctant patient. The pillow was still over his eyes.

"Just a day or two, dear," answered Poppy. "The potion needs 24 hours to heal the damage, then you'll want to keep out of direct light for a few days after that."

"You do realize how much damage my sons can do in that amount of time, don't you?" he said. Lily smirked and Hermione shook her head.

"What are you raising? Hellions?" asked Severus, looking approvingly at his daughter who was sitting quite politely with her hands in her lap. "Surely a person of your stature can keep his children in line. How old are these boys, anyway? I've got quite a bit of yard work that I won't be getting to if I'm going to take time off work this week."

Severus said this is such a disapproving way that it was obvious to all that he was not accustomed to taking time off work and was in fact still quite opposed to doing so.

"Ron can take a day off and take all the children over to work in the yard," suggested Hermione. "Rose and Hugo can help out too."

"Hugo's my age," said Lily to Anna. "He's really fun and gets into all sorts of trouble—even more than James does."

"Maybe I should fetch Ron now…"

"Harry, keep that mask over your eyes!"

"But Rose is really bookish. She's Al's age…"

"But they itch!"

"Excuse me….Excuse me!" Severus' voice grew louder when no one seemed to be paying him any attention. "PEOPLE!" he shouted, then made the mistake of clapping his hands. Immediately, the pillows on all the beds in the hospital wing burst, spewing feathers up into the air. They drifted down slowly as the room immediately fell silent. The only sound for a long moment was Harry sputtering as feathers fell into his mouth.

"Yes, Severus?" asked Minerva, brushing goose down off her shoulder.

Severus sighed, then looked pointedly at her. "You've called in a memory specialist, yet I still have only a sketchy idea of how you plan to help me recover my memory. Perhaps the specialist—" and here he looked pointedly at Stuart—"could outline my options while the rest of you go find the other half of your football team. And if I'm going to have to miss a few days of work, I'll need to borrow someone's mobile to call in." He looked at Poppy, who was mouthing "mobile?" to Harry, who was sputtering, now holding pillow fragments over his mouth, to Minerva, who was shaking her head apologetically.

"Stuart? Hermione?" He looked from one to the other. "Surely one of you has a phone I can borrow for a few moments? I don't often leave mine behind, but with the unusual circumstances of the day…"

"Severus, Muggle technology doesn't work in the Wizarding world," said Harry when no one else offered an explanation. He sputtered again and a small piece of downy feather flew into the air and drifted downward toward his forehead.

"Wizards don't use technology?" Severus looked around the room again, realizing now what was missing. There was no machinery of any kind, save a simple pendulum clock on the wall.

"We use Muggle technology in the Muggle world," corrected Harry. "We're not opposed to it—electronics simply don't work in places imbued with magic."

"I'll floo back to your home with you, Severus," said Stuart. "You can use your mobile to call in to your office then we'll come back and get you settled in. I'd really like to have you at St. Mungo's instead but I think that bringing you there would cause quite a stir in our world." He shot a significant look at Minerva.

"You'll want to stay here instead of going to St. Mungo's," said Lily, her opinion of St. Mungo's clear in the tone of her voice. "Everyone notices you there and there's no privacy and the healers wear these horrid lime-green robes."

"Severus stays here for treatment," said Minerva. "This castle is big enough and strong enough to handle magic even as strong as his."

"Come on girls, let's get off to the Burrow," said Hermione. A half dozen feathers floated slowly to the floor as she stood up. "Lily, Ana, give your father a hug and a kiss—we'll come back tomorrow to see how everything is going."

"Hermione…" Harry called out toward the door.

The girls had already run out of the room but Hermione stopped and turned. "Yes, Harry?"

"If…if Al wants to come, you'd probably better let him."

Hermione smiled. "If he wants to come, a herd of centaurs couldn't stop him," she said. "He may be content to wait until tomorrow and we'll all pop in for a visit."

"If not…"

"If not, one of us will floo through with him tonight," she said. She went back into the room and bent down to hug Harry. "He'll be fine," she said softly. "He's just sensitive, is all. Lily telling him you're really OK will go a long way."

Severus watched the exchange curiously. He was unused to the dynamics of large families, or indeed of large groups of people of any relation. Twenty years in the Muggle world had not made him a social creature. It had slowly occurred to him, over the course of this overly long day, that something in Harry's family life was amiss. Perhaps this Al was a problem child, or ill. He couldn't decide why it bothered him that his namesake might not be—well—normal—but it did.

He was pulled from his musings by Stuart, who was ready to floo back to Severus' home in Surrey, and, with Hermione and the girls gone to the Burrow, the room was soon empty except for Harry, Minerva and Poppy.

"You two!" said Poppy as soon as the door closed behind Stuart, who was taking Severus to Minerva's office to use the floo. "Surprising an old woman like that! My heart nearly stopped when I saw Severus standing there!" She swatted Harry softly on the head.

"Hey!" he said, rubbing the top of his head.

"He's so different," commented Minerva.

"And so much the same," added Harry. "The way he called my sons hellions! I can just hear him saying something like that. Of course, the old Snape would say 'Gryffindors" instead of 'hellions.'"

"And those butterflies!" exclaimed Minerva. "That alone shows how much he's changed. If his personality was as acerbic as it once was, he'd be spewing out hornets instead of butterflies, or at least evil, black butterflies." Poppy let out an undignified snort at Minerva's statement.

"I think he's taking it rather well, considering…" put in Harry, shifting on the bed and rolling over to his side to face the others. "Yesterday, he didn't know he was a wizard. A couple weeks ago, he didn't even know magic existed. And today, he's blowing smoke out his ears and practically blinding me with a simple Lumos."

"There was nothing simple about that Lumos," said Poppy. "It's too bad we don't have any dark wizards on the loose—he'd probably be able to put them down with a simple Expiliaramus."

"Very funny," said Harry as Poppy and Minerva chuckled.

"What do you think of Stuart's plan, anyway?" asked Harry a few moments later.

"I don't know what to think," answered Minerva. "It seems sound enough, based on the theory that the missing memories contain emotional components that will help him recover his magical self." She paused, looking a trifle worried. "Still, the Severus Snape we knew was an exceedingly complex man…." She stopped again, seemingly lost in thought.

"So many layers," said Harry. He rolled over to his back again, not able to get comfortable on the narrow bed. He attempted to fluff his pillow, scattering even more feathers as he did so.

"Oh, here, let me," said Poppy, casting a Reparo on his pillow. The missing feathers flew back into the case, which repaired itself before their eyes, sewing itself up tightly with an almost invisible seam.

Harry continued. "Watching his memories that first time, back in Dumbledore's office, was like watching masks being peeled off a person one by one. Each mask revealed someone different as it was removed, but in the end they were all Severus." He shook his head. "It's taken me many years to understand and appreciate him. As my own life experiences add up, I can understand loss better, and duty, and responsibility. But we're essentially asking a Muggle who has no idea who Voldemort is, who's never heard of Gryffindor or Slytherin, who can pretty much knock down a wall with a Lumos, to become Severus Snape. It nearly drove him crazy twenty years ago… Remember, it was Snape himself who planned to disappear after the war if he made it out alive."

"But his magic needs an outlet," said Poppy. "Look what it's doing to him! It might be butterflies today but it could be blasting curses tomorrow."

"He doesn't need his memory back to be able to use magic again," commented Harry.

"Severus will have to decide for himself," said Minerva, tidying up the conversation and standing up. "Now, I've got quite a bit to do before our first faculty meeting on Tuesday. Harry, you are to stay here and listen to Poppy. Ah ah ah…yes, I know you are nearly 40 years old, but you could break your neck stumbling about this castle without your eyesight. Poppy, why don't we put Harry in one of the guest suites on this floor? He'll be more comfortable there." She disappeared into the hallway, leaving Poppy and Harry alone.

"I'm fine staying here," said Harry, once again turning his pillow over to reposition it under his head.

When Severus and Stuart returned more than an hour later, Harry had managed to fall asleep and was still dozing as Stuart fire-called St. Mungo's to set up an appointment with another specialist in the morning.

"Pediatrics!" protested Severus. "I'm a grown man. Surely adults have bouts of this accidental magic, don't they?"

"Usually not," said Stuart, shooing away an orange butterfly that had settled on one of his bushy eyebrows. "Once a wizard learns to control his or her magic, the accidental magic ceases. The specialist I've called will help you learn that control, and will suggest appropriate outlets to siphon off some of your magical energy."

Stuart left a short while later and Severus sank onto a bed, rubbing tired eyes. He removed his shoes, carefully aligning them on the floor. He glanced over at Harry then removed his socks as well, placing them inside his shoes, adding his belt a moment later and emptying his pants pocket of wallet, car keys and mobile phone. He held the car keys up, laughed quietly and shook his head. Placing everything on the little table beside the bed, he reclined on it, meaning to take a short nap until Poppy or Minerva returned. The sun had dropped low in the sky, barely visible now through the infirmary windows, and it had been quite a long day.

He awoke some time later to muted voices, one obviously Harry's, low and reassuring, and the second similar to Harry's, but higher-pitched and somewhat shaky. Severus glanced over to see an adolescent boy sitting on the bed next to Harry. He looked decidedly upset. Harry's voice rose up softly in comfort.

"I promised already, didn't I? That I'd be home tomorrow? You know I keep my promises, Al. I'll only be gone tonight is all, and tomorrow we'll head back to the new cottage in Hogsmeade. You'll get to stay with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione tonight. It will be fun for you—don't worry about me. I'm fine here. I have Professor Snape to keep me company, don't I?"

Snape listened but couldn't make out the boy's reply. He watched through barely open eyes as Harry reached up and pulled his son down next to him, hugging him tightly.

"Listen, Al, I know why you're worried, but this isn't the same as last time. Your mum had a much more serious injury than this."

This time, perhaps because the boy way in a different position, essentially facing Severus instead of facing away from him, he could hear his response clearly, even though his voice was barely a whisper.

"You said she'd be OK too."

Harry didn't reply immediately. When he did, his voice, too, was low and obviously pained.

"I know, Al. I'm sorry about that. I wanted her to be OK so badly that I convinced myself she would be. It was wrong of me to give you false hope. I understand why you don't believe me now."

A choked-back sob and then the sounds of Harry comforting the crying child. Five minutes of muffled sobbing before the door to the hospital wing swung open.

"Albus?" A man's voice called softly into the room.

"Over here, Ron," answered Harry. "I think Al will be ready to go back in a minute."

The man who walked quickly and quietly by Severus' bed was tall and broad. He had red hair and wore wizarding robes, open at the front, over a pair of dark jeans.

"Hey, Uncle Ron," said the boy, still snuggled in next to his father.

"Hey, Al," answered the man. So this was Hermione Granger-Weasley's husband. Severus wondered if he was a real uncle or an honorary one. From the look of the red hair that matched Lily's, he imagined there was a biological connection. "Looks like you've got your dad all tucked in for the night. Why don't we leave him here with Madam Pomfrey? We can come back after we finish at Professor Snape's tomorrow and bring him home."

Harry laughed softly. "I can't believe you're really going to do yard work for Snape, Ron," he said.

Ron shrugged. "Figure it's the least we can do after all he did for you…for us," he answered. Snape's eyes were closed when he glanced over at the bed where his old professor was feigning sleep. "He's hardly aged, Harry," he said.

"He doesn't look much like his portrait," whispered Al.

"Inside he's still the same Snape," said Harry. "We'll have them over to the cottage as soon as things settle down so you can meet him properly."

"Did…did you tell him…about my name?" said Al, his voice a stage whisper that carried through the room.

"Yes, I did." He omitted the details about the letters he'd sent Snape over the years. "I think he was honored…and surprised."

"It's a good name," said the boy. "No one else has it."

Five minutes later, after more reassurances from Harry, Ron and Al left the infirmary. Once the door whooshed shut, the only sound in the room was the soft breathing of the two occupants.

After a time, Severus spoke.

"What happened to your wife, Harry?"

If Harry was surprised by the question, or by the fact that Severus was awake, he didn't show it. He took his time answering, though. The room remained quiet for a full minute.

"An accident—a year ago. She sustained a serious head injury. She hasn't been the same since—she's seriously…impaired." He didn't go into details, didn't mention Quidditch, didn't try to explain the sport to Severus.

The room was quiet for another long moment.

"I'm sorry," said Snape. "That must be hard for you. For all of you."

Harry obviously was not expecting to hear that sentiment from his old professor. He blew out a breath, the air whistling slightly as it left his lips.

"Thanks. You're right. It's hard for all of us, including her family. Ginny is the youngest of seven children and the only girl. We lost Fred—one of her brothers—in the final battle here at Hogwarts."

Severus wanted to ask another question but wasn't sure how it would be received. He forged ahead. "Please excuse me if this question is out of line…"

Harry laughed. The old Severus wouldn't have asked such as question. "No, go on, please."

"You said that your wife is seriously impaired. Can you elaborate?"

Shadows danced about the room from the flickering oil lamps on the walls. Both men reclined on their beds, each speaking up into the empty air and waiting while their words were heard, considered, digested.

"Ginny's memory of her adult life is nearly gone. She has trouble speaking and walking. She has frequent emotional outbursts."

"Does she know you? The children?"

"Not usually," Harry said, quite softly. "Sometimes…sometimes I think I see a flicker of recognition when I walk into the room. Sometimes she smiles at the children, or pets their hair like she used to. She occasionally says my name but never the children's."

"Is she where you thought she would be following the initial prognosis?" asked Severus.

Harry considered, realizing what an unusual question Severus had asked.

"She's actually more functional than I was told she would be when she came out of her coma," he said. "The healers at St. Mungo's warned me that she was likely never to walk again, and be unable to communicate. I refused to settle for that." He laughed again, but the sound was not joyous. "She made a lot of progress early on with a series of experimental potions, but the progress leveled off and stopped. By that time, she was walking and talking again, but falling frequently and speaking only with great effort. We continued with extensive physical and speech therapy and I even brought in a memory specialist from Sweden who worked with us…"

"Von Platen?" asked Severus.

"What?"

"The memory specialist you spoke of, from Sweden. Was it Rune Von Platen?"

"How…how did you know?" Harry couldn't see Severus but had a very good idea that he was smirking.

"He's world reknown. And knowing what I know now, I'd hazard a guess that he's a wizard too. Did he help?"

"No, not really," answered Harry. "His methods were a bit…"

"Unconventional?" offered Severus.

"Yes, unconventional," said Harry, thinking back with uncomfortable clarity on the regression therapy that left Ginny sobbing like an infant. They'd managed regression but had never quite managed to bring her forward past her joyful childhood at the Burrow.

The silence between questions and answers stretched further. Finally, Severus spoke again.

"I'd be willing to see her. Do an independent assessment. Perhaps I could offer a new perspective."

Harry considered the offer. It was obvious from Stuart's reaction at meeting Snape that Snape was a respected authority on dementia. Snape had nothing apparent to gain from helping them, but did they have anything to lose? Ginny, while not cured, was at least happy most of the time in her childhood home under the care of her loving parents. But an assessment was not a commitment to try new therapies. What could it hurt?

"Thanks. That's a generous offer. I'd…I'd like that. Ginny's living with her parents now, at her childhood home. She's comfortable there, and relatively happy now. I think…I think it's more important that you get your own memories back, and get your magic under control first."

Just for fun, Severus thought the word "Lumos" in his head and waved his hands at the walls. As he expected, the lamps flared up and several of the glass chimneys shattered. He sighed.

"Warn me next time you try to do magic," sighed Harry.

"How did you…?" Severus watched Harry turn over on the narrow bed.

"I can feel it," said Harry. "The wash from particularly intense magical signatures." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Don't tell anyone, please. I'm enjoying staying out of the paper this last year. I was Head of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement until a year ago."

They were both silent for several long moments. Finally, Severus spoke again.

"This memory restoration process…I'm in for a major shock, aren't I?"

Harry thought about the dour professor who had loved his mother, who had saved his life more than once, who had killed the Headmaster and who had spied inside the inner circle of Voldemort's followers for years. He compared that man to the research scientist, father and sarcastic but peaceful man Severus had become since leaving the magical world. A quiet life, a peaceful life, an intellectually stimulating life with a little girl to raise and flowers and herbs to grow in the garden compared to a painful life of neglect, rejection, lost love, difficult promises, torture and ultimately, oblivion.

The choice seemed obvious, but was it?

The one thing Harry was sure of was that it wasn't his choice to make, or even to influence.

"Yes. You are. Your life now is quite different than it was when you lived here. But you've learned enough today to decide if you want to go on with this or not."

"I wasn't very likable, was I?" asked Snape.

Harry didn't quite answer the question. "It isn't about being likable or not. In my mind, it's about reclaiming a piece of yourself and moving forward—in whatever direction you choose—with the full knowledge of who you are and what you can do. Maybe…maybe with the combination of what you've accomplished as a Muggle scientist and what you can do as a wizard…maybe you can help more people, or be a better father to Anna, or do something you've always dreamed of doing…"

"Like flying," said Severus suddenly. "I've always dreamed of flying." His mind cut away to the intensely realistic dreams that had visited him for as long as he could remember, dreams of flying through the air with nothing between him and the ground but the wind. He'd spent quite a bit of time researching the symbolism of dreams about flying and had come away with the idea that flying—and controlling the flight in the dream—meant he was on top of his game, powerful, free. There had been times, upon waking, that he felt like he could get out of bed, walk out to the yard, lift his arms and launch himself upward into the sky. He'd never actually tried, though. How ridiculous would it be for a grown man to leave his bed for such a ludicrous effort?

As they drifted off to sleep, perhaps to dream, Severus couldn't see the smile on Harry's face and Harry couldn't see the wistful look on Severus.'