The Severus Snape that lifted his daughter's finger to study the teeth marks left by the gnome was not the Severus Snape that had taken her in for a tetanus shot a month ago when she cut her finger on while playing in the park with a neighborhood friend. This Severus Snape somehow understood that while garden gnomes were well-known biters, their "bark" was indeed worse than their bite and they could inflict little damage with their small mouths and blunt teeth.

"Did you bite it back?" he asked as he held out his hand expectantly to Poppy. Poppy looked puzzled for only a moment, then sighed and handed him his wand, handle first. He took it and cast a quick healing charm on the bite.

"You did magic, Papa!" exclaimed Anna, first examining her finger and then staring at her father in amazement.

"Well, I am a wizard after all," he answered, planting a light kiss on the healed finger and lifting his daughter up to sit on the bed beside him. He then let his gaze travel to the others who had followed his daughter into the room.

"Mr. Longbottom—I trust my daughter's behavior was exemplary today?" asked Snape.

Neville lifted his son up to his hip. "She was a model of decorum," he answered, catching Hermione's smirk and grinning broadly. "She was especially helpful with Frankie. She and Lily both, in fact. They played this fascinating Muggle game they called "House." Frankie was the "Daddy" since you couldn't be there. Anna was very insistent that Frankie call for complete silence during the evening news and that he send Lily to bed precisely at 8 p.m. after a sensible pudding consisting of fresh fruit slices."

Behind Neville, Ron was unable to contain an additional piece of information.

"The play house you built Anna is lovely, Professor. Did you ever notice its resemblance to a certain castle in northern Scotland?"

"It is, Papa!" exclaimed Anna, who had been looking fondly at Frankie, exchanging funny faces with him. "We all stood back and looked at it and it's got the exact same shape. Of course Hogwarts doesn't have a moat like my play castle, but it has exactly the same number of towers and everything!"

"It's from a book," said Severus, frowning, then looking up to at the adults in the room. "At least, I think it is."

Hermione had been studying Severus' face and voiced the question that was really on everyone's minds.

"So, Severus. How did your session with Stuart turn out?" She glanced over toward the pair of beds where Poppy, Stuart and Harry were all sitting now, facing each other. Lily had climbed up to sit next to Harry, seemingly relieved to have her father whole again. Albus and James remained near the infirmary door with Ron, Hugo and Rose.

"Rather well," answered Severus. "Stuart returned a single memory to me, one chosen by our Mr. Potter over there. But before that, Mr. Potter and I read the last chapter of the revised Hogwarts, a History."

"Oh bugger," said Ron, catching Harry's eyes.

"Yes, I was initially a little put off by the term 'greasy git,' Mr. Weasley. However, since regaining some memories in the last half hour, I know it's really rather mild considering some of the other descriptive phrases in wide use during my time here at Hogwarts."

"Memories?" exclaimed Anna. "What do you remember, Papa? Do you remember teaching here at Hogwarts? Do you remember your students? Neville says he wasn't a very good student in your classes, but I rather think he might have been a bit afraid of you. You can be quite intimidating, you know."

"She's a regular Hermione," said Ron, shooting his wife a glance and grinning.

Severus smiled. "That's a compliment, Anna," he said.

"Mum's invited everyone to the Burrow for a picnic dinner," said Ron. "5:30 sharp."

Severus glanced over at Harry, finding him looking a bit apprehensive. Hermione noticed too, it seemed, for she approached her friend and had a whispered conversation with him. He nodded his head finally and stood up to go speak to his sons.

Severus watched him move over toward the door, his daughter beside him holding his hand, and had his first opportunity to study the male Potter progeny. The older boy, James, resembled the Weasleys strongly. He had dark auburn hair, though not a true red, brown eyes and a wiry, athletic build. Albus, on the other hand, looked very much like a second year Harry Potter. He was slight of build with messy black hair and Harry's eyes…Lily's eyes. Still, it has instantly apparent to Severus that this boy was not Harry Potter, nor James Potter, for that matter. He seemed comfortable in his own skin, interacting in quite a boyish way with his siblings and cousins. His eyes held neither defiance nor defeat. He wasn't nervous, cocky or scared. If any of the Potters was to merit his name, Severus' name, it would be this one.

"I'll be going, then," said Stuart, weaving around Hugo and Rose to reach Severus. "I'd suggest another session tomorrow, about the same time."

"I'd like to go home for a while tomorrow," said Severus. "I'm going to have to tie up some loose ends at work. Perhaps I can get my house connected to the floo network to make travel back here more convenient."

"Are you ready for the Ministry to know you're alive?" asked Harry, who had overhead Severus' statement. "You'll need someone from the Department of Magical Transportation to authorize…"

"Harry, Angelina is head of that Department," laughed Ron. "I'm sure she can sneak in an authorization for Severus and leave it unfiled for a few weeks."

Harry smiled. "Right. She'll be there tonight, I guess? At the Burrow?"

"Of course. You think George and Angelina would turn down the chance to let their kids run wild with the pack for a few hours while the adults play some pick-up Quidditch?"

"Perhaps Anna and I should pass on this one," said Severus. From the look on his face, he remembered enough about the Weasley family to be a bit apprehensive about landing in the middle of a Weasley family reunion after twenty years of living as a Muggle.

"Not a chance, Severus," said Harry. "Not a chance…"

It took another fifteen minutes to sort out plans for the evening. Ron, Hermione, Neville and all of the children eventually left to floo directly to the Burrow from the family-sized fireplace in the Great Hall. Harry stayed to submit himself to one more eye exam from Poppy. He offered to come along in an hour or so with Severus, who Poppy also wished to examine before they left for the evening.

With a clean bill of health but cautionary words about silly pick-up contact sports, Harry joined Severus in the hallway outside the infirmary twenty minutes later. They walked side by side toward the great marble staircase that would take them down to the Entry Hall.

"How much do you remember?" asked Harry after a moment of companionable silence.

"I'm not sure," answered Severus with a small sigh. "I know precisely where I am in the castle." He pulled out his wand from his jeans pocket. "I know how to do this…" He pointed the wand at a random suit of armor, muttered something Harry did not hear and the armor began a slow waltz in the hallway. Harry watched it in amusement until Severus flicked his wand again and the suit of armor returned to its plinth, looking a bit forlorn after its moment of freedom. Severus chanced a glance at Harry. "I have a vast amount of knowledge about you as well, but it seems to be free-floating in my mind. I recall being Headmaster, and the many horrific decisions I had to make while at that post. I recall details—the password to my office, for example, and the liberating feeling of flying."

Harry continued walking, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"I remember trying to find you," Severus continued. "To give you the Sword of Gryffindor. And I remember fleeing…abandoning the castle at the end." He paused, and Harry watched him look around the castle with new eyes. "The castle seems unsettled without the children. I believe…I believe I used to love summers here best, when all was quiet save the house elves polishing and slinking about. I cannot imagine spending so many hours alone ever again."

He glanced over at Harry, who looked like he was fighting with his own emotions.

"Which of the Weasleys is dead?" asked Severus suddenly. "You said they lost a son in the war. I don't recall that…and I was privy to much while Headmaster here."

"Fred," said Harry, quite softly. "He was killed in the final battle, here in the castle. You wouldn't have known. It happened after you…left."

"Oh," Severus replied. They had reached the great marble staircase and he started down it without pause. When he reached the bottom, he sat down on the second from the bottom stair. Harry sat down as well, a step or two above him.

"Fred was one of the twins, yes?" asked Severus. His eyes stared out ahead to the center of the great foyer. "They attempted to beat Albus' age line and enter the Twi-Wizard tournament." He chuckled. "No one should ever try getting around Albus Dumbledore." He laughed again, shaking his head. "And those fireworks the year Umbridge was here—and that bog! Those boys were truly brilliant." He sighed, then. "What a loss. His twin must have been devastated."

"He was. I think he still is," answered Harry. His mind was still wrestling with disbelief at hearing Snape call the Weasley twins brilliant.

They sat there for a moment in silence before Harry spoke again.

"Remus was killed, too," he said. "And Tonks, his wife." 20 years to get used to the idea and still his voice hitched.

"Lupin?" asked Snape sharply. He seemed to struggle to recall something. "Did he not have a child?"

"Yeah, he did. Teddy is 20 now. I'm his godfather. You'll probably meet him at the Burrow—he's going with Bill Weasley's oldest daughter."

"I am not ready for this," said Severus, standing up suddenly and walking toward the front doors. "They will despise me. I no longer know the man I was."

"You're not the only one who's changed in the last 20 years, you know," called out Harry as he followed Severus outside.

"Right," muttered Severus. "The rest of you have grown up, launched productive careers, gotten married, produced children…"

"You produced children…well, a child, anyway. You've launched a productive career. Were you married?"

"Briefly," answered Severus. He had stopped at the lip of the upper landing, just at the edge of the stair leading out into the grounds. "We will not be discussing that now."

Harry let it go. "Listen, Severus, you're mistaken about some things," he said. "We've all had twenty years to figure it out—why you did what you did, what kind of person you really were. We've had all those years to understand and then to forgive and forget. You've only had…what? An hour and a half? And a day before that to get reacquainted with the magical world? Give yourself time, Severus. You've been away a long time…"

Severus whirled around to face Harry, who had been talking at him from behind.

"How did you do it? In the end? How did you kill him when you had a piece of him inside you? Is he truly dead? Can you be sure?"

Harry stepped back, taken by surprise by the abrupt change of subject as well as by the intensity of Severus' voice.

"Trust me, he's dead and he's not coming back," muttered Harry, dropping down to sit on the doorway step. "And for your information, I did exactly what Dumbledore told you to tell me to do. I gave myself up. I sacrificed myself so that the Horcrux inside me would be destroyed—by Voldemort himself. Only thing was that we were somehow tied together so that he couldn't kill me—I couldn't die while he was still alive. But he did destroy the Horcrux when he AK'd me." Harry smiled grimly when Severus turned quickly to face him. "Yeah, that's me…the Boy Who Lived…Twice." He grimaced.

"I…I must admit a certain amount of surprise to find you alive," muttered Severus. He had turned back to stare out toward the grounds again. "After that particular memory was restored, I had some difficulty reconciling what I was seeing and experiencing with what I thought I knew to be true."

"Like I said," replied Harry. "We've all had twenty years to get accustomed to the idea. He stood and stretched, then walked forward to stand next to Severus. Severus stood with his hands at his sides, his fingers twitching nervously from time to time.

"I have the desire to fly," he admitted at last, as if revealing a secret. "It is…strange…but I believe I could launch myself from this very spot and sail into the sky without aid of broom."

Harry placed a hand on Severus' forearm, unconsciously, perhaps, anchoring him in place.

"That's a trick for another time," he said, staring wistfully at the sky along with Severus. "I think we should apparate to the Burrow. We'll need to get out past the gates…"

Severus chuckled. "I do remember that now, Potter," he said.

Harry had taken a step forward but turned and locked eyes with his old professor.

"Well, that's one thing that's changed now that you've begun to remember," he said.

"What?" asked Severus sharply.

"You just called me Potter. You were calling me Harry."

Severus looked at Harry without commenting. To Harry it felt like he was being assessed—the man he was now compared to the boy he was then. Then Severus' mouth gave a small quirk, the corners edging up in what could only be a suppressed smile. He began walking down the stairs.

"Old habits," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "Come on, Harry."

From just outside the great winged boar gates of Hogwarts, Harry took Severus' arm. "Side-along this time, Severus?" Severus had grunted his assent and before he could second guess his willingness and trust, the two stood just outside the gate of the most unorthodox residential structure Severus had ever seen.

The first twenty years of his adult life in the wizarding world instantly warred with his twenty years of Muggle orderliness. He was both awestruck and repulsed. The house rose up at least four or five stories, had no symmetry to speak of and was off-balance to such an extent that Severus almost winced and tilted his head to at least balance it inside his mind. Still, the house had a homey feel to it, an aura of chaos and comfort. There were chickens scratching out front, a couple of cats—or were they kneazles?—lounging in the sun on top of the stone wall and a very old, very beat-up blue Ford Anglia parked next to a storage shed. But by far the most prevalent feature was an over-abundance of children, many of the sporting some variation of red hair, although they seemed to be supervised by a young man with turquoise hair and a young silver-blonde woman wwho he thought—for a moment anyway—that he recognized. Using the word "supervised" was rather generous, Severus thought, as he and Harry stood unmoving outside the gate watching the activity in the yard. The young man and woman were sitting on one half of an old metal garden glider placed so that it faced the gardens where the children were playing. They were definitely paying more attention to each other than to the children.

"Well, this is it," said Harry. "The Burrow." His voice had a sigh to it and Severus, remembering that Harry's invalid wife now lived here, thought he understood why.

"The couple on the glider," said Severus, indicating them with a nod of his head. "Lupin's son?"

"Right—that's Teddy. Victoire is with him. That's Bill's oldest daughter."

"She reminded me of someone else," said Severus.

Harry looked at him, puzzled. "Her mother is Fleur DeLacour—she was one of the Triwizard champions during my fourth year. From Beauxbatons? Nothing, eh?" Harry laughed lightly. "Well, you didn't know her well anyway. She's part Veela."

"Ahh. Veela. I have a picture of someone else in my head. Draco's mother, perhaps?"

"Oh." Harry didn't offer anything else and continued watching the children in the yard who hadn't yet noticed the newcomers.

"She has a name?" asked Severus.

"Narcissa Malfoy," supplied Harry.

"Narcissa and Lucius," mused Severus, seemingly pleased with himself for producing that information on his own.

Harry looked sideways at Severus for a moment, and Severus could tell he was weighing something in his mind.

"Narcissa did resemble Victoire. She had the same build, the same hair."

"Did? She is dead, then?" asked Severus. As much as he tried to keep his voice disinterested, Harry heard the catch in it.

"No, not dead. She's living in France, I believe. She left Britain after the war. I think you'll need to save your questions for Draco, though. I really don't keep up with that family."

Severus knew, again, that there was another story in what Harry wasn't saying. He had plenty to focus on now, however, and mentally filed the information away for a later time. He folded his arms and continued to watch the children at play in the yard. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt. It felt odd, like he was missing something.

"Robes," he said.

"What? Robes? What about robes?" asked Harry, glancing over at Severus and taking his eyes off the tree his daughter, Hugo and Anna were attempting to climb.

Severus held out his arms.

"I used to wear robes," he said. "Black robes. With buttons. I believe, in fact, that they billowed.

"Oh yeah, they billowed all right," replied Harry. He chuckled. "You were the king of the billow, in fact. Did you just miss them or something?"

Severus let out a long and noncommittal humph. "Well, you're wearing robes. I'll stand out in this attire."

"Robes are absolutely optional, Severus. If you want robes, you can have mine." He made a move to shrug off the black robes he was wearing over his t-shirt and jeans.

This time the humph was more like a scoff. "Keep them on, Potter. I've seen how you eat. You've got egg yolk all over those."

"Hey! I was blind!" He patted his robes with his hands, looking for food particles, cast a quick Scourgify then glared at Severus without venom.

"Come on. Let's get this over with."

Harry pushed on the squeaky gate and held it open while Severus walked in, then closed it behind them. They were soon set upon by nearly a dozen children—Severus didn't get a good count since they wouldn't stop moving. He recognized all three of Harry's children, little Frankie and Ron and Hermione's two children. However, there were at last six more, plus Anna, of course. Some of them came up to greet Harry enthusiastically, and he picked up and swung the smaller ones around in a circle, eliciting giggles and delighted screams. The older ones, especially, stared at Severus instead of Harry. A girl, obviously Victoire's younger sister, addressed him politely.

"Bienvenue to the Burrow, Headmaster Snape."

Severus nodded his head. "Thank-you. However, I am no longer Headmaster. You may address me as…" He stopped, searching for an appropriate title.

"How about Professor?" asked Harry, bending down to kiss Dominique on the cheek in greeting. "That's what they're used to hearing, anyway, Severus, when we talk about you."

"Except for Uncle Ron, and sometimes Dad," offered another Weasley, a darker-skinned boy who looked about the same age as Dominique.

"Fred…" warned Harry, tousling the teen's hair.

"Sorry Uncle Harry," Fred chanted, then had the audacity to wink at Severus. Severus was unsure how to respond and ended up with something between a smile and a glare.

Anna ran up to greet him then, followed closely by Lily and Hugo.

"They're playing Quidditch after dinner, Papa!" she exclaimed. Severus wondered when she would stop speaking in exclamations. "And you should see what Grandpa Weasley is up to!"

"Grandpa Weasley?" he asked, glancing at Harry, who failed to hide the smirk on his face.

"We all call him Grandpa," she explained. "Even Frankie, and Frankie isn't related either!"

The three children ran off again and Harry and Severus continued toward the house. Harry stopped to greet Teddy and Victoire, who had stood up as they approached. He made the obligatory introductions but Severus realized that they really weren't needed. These two seemed almost in awe in his presence.

"I always believed you, Uncle Harry," said Teddy after shaking Severus' hand firmly and welcoming him to the Burrow.

Harry smiled. "I was beginning to not believe myself," he answered. "But the proof is in the pudding, eh?"

When Harry and Severus entered the house, Molly Weasley was waiting for them.

"Severus Snape!" she exclaimed, giving Harry a quick hug before turning to Severus. She grasped his arms and stood looking at him a long moment. "As I live and breathe…it is you. It does my heart good to see you standing here. At least one senseless death redeemed." She hugged him then, and he let her. Until he had actually seen her, he hadn't remembered Molly Weasley. He didn't recall ever having known her well, but her open acceptance and welcome gave him hope that his reentry into the wizarding world might be smoother than he had imagined.

"And your daughter is simply lovely! So smart and well-behaved too. She'll be a good example for the others. She humored Arthur for nearly half an hour trying to explain to him how compooters work."

She led Harry and Severus into the kitchen then and Hermione and Ron obligingly scooted over to make room for them while a chorus of voices greeted them, curious eyes moving from the familiar face of Harry Potter to the face of the reborn Severus Snape. Harry, however, glanced at Molly, a question in his eyes.

"Percy's back reading to her," said Molly. Harry nodded and disappeared from the room while Severus, feigning the comfort he did not feel, took his seat beside Ron at the large table.

"Listen up—I'm only doing this once," said Ron and everyone quieted down while Ron began introductions and Severus reached over and across to shake hands as Ron moved through the family and friends gathered there.

"Bill and his wife Fleur. Percy's wife Penelope. Neville you've already met—that's his wife Hannah next to him. George and Angelina. Mum and Dad. And of course you already know Hermione. Only one missing is Charlie—he still lives in Romania. Works with dragons there."

Severus soon realized that everyone—or nearly everyone—was staring at him.

"Do I have something in my teeth?" he quipped. "What are you all staring at?"

Fleur let out an uncharacteristic snort and soon the entire table was laughing along with her.

Ice broken, someone slid a glass of lemonade in front of Severus and he gratefully took a drink, tasting the heavy dose of firewhiskey as the liquid rolled down his dry throat. There was something unique about the taste of firewhiskey and the taste, as senses are wont to do, evoked a connection to a buried memory. Until he actually tasted the drink, he had not remembered firewhiskey at all. Now he realized how different it was from the normal Muggle whiskey he'd grown accustomed to, how much longer the taste lingered on the tongue, how the liquid continued to burn even when it sat in the belly.

As he sat at the kitchen table at the Burrow, surrounded by former colleagues and students—who, for the time being anyway, were tactfully avoiding peppering him with questions—he sipped the firewhiskey-laced lemonade and tried to grab the memory that kept trying to form in his mind, the memory evoked by the aroma of the firewhiskey and the feel of it in his gut. He looked up when he heard his name and glanced over at George Weasley. The glass in his hand seemed to have much more firewhiskey than lemonade. Severus' gaze moved from his hand to his face. George smiled.

But Severus' eyes were not focused on George's smile. His gaze had moved over to he man's ear—or, better said, lack thereof.

The penny dropped and the memory hit with full force.

Severus, sitting at a table, drinking firewhiskey from a porcelain coffee mug, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall across from him. Hands shaking slightly as he raised the heavy cup to his lips. Liquid burning his throat, aflame in his belly. Mind on the task before him—intercept Potter and his guard, let the Dark Lord kill the Chosen One, help kill the rest. Hoping that Mundungus carried out the plan he had suggested, that this would not truly be the slaughter of the lambs and half the Order of the Phoenix with them. Downing the remaining drink, bracing himself, standing up and apparating on the spot without further thought.

Now, the reminder of that day's work was before him. George Weasley, minus one ear, yet smiling at Severus, a question on his lips.

Severus attempted a smile.

But the memory of the warmth of the firewhiskey, the bracing burn to ready himself for a repugnant task, faded into the memory of the bottle—no, bottles—of firewhiskey, Old Ogden's finest, stored in the cabinet behind Albus' desk (it was never his desk) in the Headmaster's offices. Drinking alone, late in the evening when even the Carrows had tired of torturing students and had turned in for the night. Facing the door, or the window, but never Albus' portrait.

"You with us, Professor?" asked someone and he pulled himself from his thoughts.

"I'm sorry—what did you ask?" replied Severus. He glanced at his lemonade glass to find it empty.

"Hermione told us you've become a specialist on memory loss and brain injuries in the Muggle world. Do you think you could help our Ginny?"

The question was posed by George but the table fell quiet as all eyes turned toward Severus. He felt somewhat how a bug must feel when held up to a small eye by its child captor, scrutinized and judged. Was this to be his initiation back into the fold then? To make up for the severed ear? The death of George's twin inside the castle he governed?

He directed his answer not at George but at Molly and Arthur.

"I'd like to try," he said. "Harry has given me some background to her case. I know the specialist from Sweden that he's already tried…"

Molly's face showed what she thought of that particular specialist.

"…and I told Harry that he's quite renown…but also quite unorthodox. I've already offered to assess Mrs. Potter but I'm sorry—I simply cannot promise success or even improvement."

"But you'll try, Severus? You'll have a look at her?" This from Arthur. Severus nodded, noting that despite being nearly bald now, Arthur looked much the same as he always remembered him. He was saved from further comment by the arrival of another Weasley—obviously Percy, as he had been minding his sister until Harry arrived.

"Hello, Professor," Percy said, shaking his hand before sliding into place between his wife and Neville. "Harry wondered if you'd join him in the parlor. He'd like you to meet Ginny."

Severus pushed back his chair and stood.

"Just beyond the fireplace, Severus," said Molly helpfully.

He nodded again and found his way through the cozy living room with its walk-in fireplace to the parlor-turned-bedroom behind it.

Harry sat on a sofa with a book open on his lap. His wife sat next to him, her feet drawn up on the sofa, her arms hugging her knees. Her long hair was done up in a thick plait and she was wearing faded jeans, pink socks and a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. She did not look, to Severus, like a woman in her late thirties. She had a certain innocent look, thoughtful but unengaged, as she listened to Harry read.

Severus immediately recognized the passage Harry was reading as being from "The Secret Garden," Anna's favorite book. He had read it aloud to her twice, most recently early this summer. He could not understand why the story of a lonely orphaned girl, befriending a motherless boy with a distant father, intrigued his daughter so much.

"Severus," said Harry, closing the book and looking up.

"No, go on," said Severus. He smiled at Ginny. "This is Anna's favorite book. I'd enjoy hearing a bit more."

Harry looked at Severus a long moment then opened the book and paged to where he had left off.

"Chapter 23," he read aloud. "Magic."

Severus was taken back to that particular chapter, listening as Harry's voice read the familiar words.

"Then I will chant," he said. And he began, looking like a strange boy spirit. "The sun is shining-the sun is shining. That is the Magic. The flowers are growing-the roots are stirring. That is the Magic. Being alive is the Magic-being strong is the Magic. The Magic is in me-the Magic is in me. It is in me-it is in me. It's in every one of us. It's in Ben Weatherstaff's back. Magic! Magic! Come and help!"

With that final plea, Harry closed the book.