It was odd, thought Harry Potter, how much at home he felt at Hogwarts, despite the fact that he'd been gone more than 20 years and that only a handful of people from his childhood days still remained here. The castle had changed very little, tidied up and repaired after the final battle, of course, but the 142 staircases still moved rather unpredictably, the portrait people were as nosy and gossipy as ever and the suits of armor—those restored and returned to their plinths after the last battle, anyway—still creaked as you walked by. Peeves and the ghosts still prowled, though Filch and Mrs. Norris had retired, and the addition of the ghost of little Colin Creevey, complete with camera, added a whole new dimension of "annoying" to the spectral world.

He found himself at the bottom of the moving spiral staircase, guarded by a stone gargoyle that had, according to his sons, become a bit dodgy in the past 20 years and apparently accepted not-quite-perfect passwords if it judged the visitor's intentions pure. Harry glanced again at the scrap of parchment in his left hand, still clutching the rolled-up contract in his right. A smile, rare this past year, graced his face as he said "wool socks" and the gargoyle groaned a bit as it scooted aside.

"Harry, come in, come in," greeted Professor McGonagall in welcome as her door swung open when he rapped on it.

"Headmistress," he greeted her, smiling as he eased himself into a chair in front of her desk. Behind her, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore grunted in its sleep.

Minerva McGonagall smiled, looking very much the same as she had almost 30 years before on the first day he'd seen her seemingly stern face in the Entrance Hall when she led Harry's group of first years into the Great Hall for the sorting. A few more lines in her face, perhaps, but they suited her in these days of more smiles than frowns. "It's good to meet with you as a colleague instead of as a parent for a change," she began. "You have the contract?"

He handed the document to her and she placed it to the side of her desk as she regarded him more closely. "We'll leave matters of your orientation and curriculum for later." Her eyes behind the square lenses were sparkling. "I have a new matter to discuss with you—I think you'll be as intrigued as I am."

Minerva picked up a letter from her desk and passed it to Harry. The letter was addressed to Anna Squires in familiar spidery green script. According to the address, Anna lived in Surrey. He raised an eyebrow.

"According to our prospective student role here at Hogwarts, Anna is the daughter of Julia Hansen and Steven Squires, Muggles both. Pamona did the initial home visit to introduce Hogwarts and our curriculum. At that visit, she discovered that Julia Hansen has been 'out of the picture' since Anna was a toddler. The father wasn't at the meeting—she met with the nanny and the child. Pamona got the idea that the father is ill. The father subsequently declined the Hogwarts offer and returned the letter…"

"Is that unusual?" interrupted Harry.

"No…well…yes." Minerva's mouth turned up in a grin. "Let's just say that Muggle families often object but the children usually get their way in the end." She paused and picked up another letter which had been beneath the first one. This one was in an envelope and had come through the Muggle post to the box Hogwarts maintained in London. "I received this letter yesterday. I'm hoping those deductive skills you developed as an Auror lead you to the same conclusions I reached." She scooted it across to him with a squared off nail. Harry opened it but looked at her inquiringly before reading it.

"It's from Anna Squires' nanny. After hearing about Hogwarts and the magical world during Pamona's visit, she now believes Mr. Squires—Anna's father—may himself be a wizard."

Harry's eyebrows creased as he removed the single sheet of paper and unfolded it. He read it quickly, his face set in a practiced neutral expression. When he finished, he held the letter a moment, apparently re-reading it, then carefully folded it and slid it back in the envelope. His eyes strayed to the small painting hanging next to Albus Dumbledore's still snoring portrait. The portrait of Minerva's predecessor, Headmaster Snape, didn't move. It had been commissioned by Headmistress McGonagall when no magical portrait appeared following Snape's supposed death and subsequent disappearance from the Shrieking Shack after the final battle.

"Do you think….?," he said carefully at last, his eyes meeting Minerva's. "It would make sense—she states he had some sort of accident twenty years ago and remembers nothing of his life before then. And that he has episodes of what she now believes to be accidental magic just like the girl." He looked again at the portrait of Severus Snape. "Do you want me to go?"

"Frankly, yes," she said. "I hate for you to get your hopes up, Harry, but the circumstances seem to indicate that not only may Severus have survived—but that there is a very good reason no one has heard from him for twenty years—that he doesn't remember anything about his magical life."

"There's no real reason to assume it's him," said Harry. "Not when you look at the facts alone, though they certainly seem to indicate that Squires is a wizard. All the classics—locked doors that open for him, falls slowed down, lights turning on and off. Add that to the fact that his daughter is a witch…"

"Are there other candidates, then?" asked Minerva. "Anyone still missing and unaccounted for since the Battle?"

Harry looked back at the Headmistress—he'd been studying Snape's portrait again. He sighed.

"No, all located—dead or alive. Everyone but Snape."

"I thought you would be thrilled to find him alive," commented Minerva.

"I would," answered Harry. "It's just…well, I never considered amnesia. I thought he was staying away on purpose. Starting a new life without all the painful reminders of his past. It was easier to just let him go when I thought he wanted to stay away.'

"If he wasn't dead, that is," said Minerva.

Harry glanced at the portrait yet again. "You know why I never really believed he was dead," he said.

"Yes, but there were theories to explain the lack of an official portrait," said Minerva. "That he essentially resigned as Headmaster when he abandoned the castle the night of the battle and went to his master."

"Not his true master," corrected Harry distractedly. He'd been correcting so many people on that point for so many years that he did it without even thinking anymore.

"Point taken," said Minerva.

"Just call him Voldemort," suggested Harry. "It's been twenty years."

"Old habits," replied Minerva, smiling.

Harry stood and picked up the nanny's letter, glancing again at the return address.

"Have you told anyone else?" he asked as he pocketed it.

"Well, aside from calling the Ministry and alerting The Daily Prophet, no." She shook her head. "Of course not, Harry. We really don't know anything yet…though I must admit to having a certain feeling about this."

Harry nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm just trying to convince myself to not be terribly disappointed if Stephen Squires is a blonde midget from Portugal."

Minerva chuckled, then added. "Harry, with Lily starting this year, it wouldn't be a bad idea to bring her along with you. That might help to reassure Anna and her father."

"And the boys?" he asked with barely concealed mirth. "Should I bring them along too? Introduce the Professor to his namesake?"

A look something between horror and humor passed over the headmistress's lined face. "You are joking, aren't you?"

Harry smiled. "I'm sure Hermione and Ron will take them on for the day," he said. He stared out the window next to Dumbledore's portrait for a moment then turned to Minerva with a faint smile. "I didn't tell you yet—I bought a cottage in Hogsmeade. All the Weasleys encouraged me and Molly helped pick it out. There's room for all of us, and it's set up well enough for Ginny if…" he trailed off then shook his head. "I guess we all thought it was time for a change, and it will give us a home close to Hogwarts for the summer."

"That's wonderful, Harry," said Minerva. She looked fondly at her old student. It had been more than a year now since Harry had retired from the Auror Corps to care for his wife. Ginny's Quidditch career had abruptly ended during a fan riot after her team, the Holyhead Harpies, took the national title in an upset over Puddlemere United. Two members of her team had been killed during the riot as fans from both teams pressed onto the field and stampeded the victory celebration. Ginny had suffered a severe head injury that had left her with long and short-term memory loss, personality changes and balance and coordination problems. After nearly a year of Harry caring for Ginny through intensive therapy, an experimental potions regimen and a month with a memory specialist from Sweden, Harry had worn himself to a thread. After a cold he couldn't seem to shake turned into pneumonia and Molly spent two weeks caring for Ginny while he recovered at St. Mungo's, Molly realized that Harry could not go on as he had been and the Weasleys staged an intervention. Arthur had heard of the vacancy at Hogwarts and called Minerva on Harry's behalf. Minerva offered the job to Harry on the spot and Arthur and Molly wore him down until he accepted it. It had been a long summer as Harry coped with the guilt of moving on but the Weasleys, the only real family he had ever had, rallied behind him, encouraging him. Minerva was happy to see how far Harry had come since she first met with him in June. Ginny had already been moved to the Burrow, where she seemed quite happy as she was more often than not mentally living life as a ten-year-old.

Harry looked around the office once more, letting his gaze fall on the portrait of Snape again. "Do you have a picture of Snape I can take with me? I'll try to arrange a meeting with the nanny outside of the home so I know what I'm dealing with before I get there."

"Excellent idea, Harry." Minerva stood and moved over to a large oak cabinet against the wall, the very one that had once contained Dumbledore's Pensieve. She pulled out a fat file, carried it back to her desk and began to riffle through it.

"Old staff photos," she said, pulling out several rather severe looking photos of Snape. Two were taken in this very office, obviously during the year Snape had spent as Headmaster. Harry chose one that showed him in profile, standing near the window.

"Thanks," he said as he turned to leave. "Wish me luck."

"If it is Severus," said Minerva to his back as he left her office, "Don't try to explain everything at once…it would be…well…overwhelming to say the least."

Harry turned and smiled at her.

HP

Two days later, Harry Potter, his daughter Lily at his side, walked into a neighborhood park in Surrey and sat down on a bench while Lily ran for the swings. This last year had been a hard one for the entire family, and Lily had suffered more than the boys who were away at Hogwarts and not in the home experiencing the day to day trials of living with a mother who most days didn't know who they were. Now, hearing Lily laugh as she pumped herself higher and higher, Harry was reminded of the child she had been before the accident. Strange how Ginny's accident seemed to divide how they measured time, lumping everything into two buckets—before the accident, and after.

As he watched his daughter at play, his mind wove back to the memories Snape had gifted him all those years ago, of his mother swinging while Snape watched, swinging then sailing off the swing, landing lightly on the ground. His thoughts were interrupted by a woman and a girl walking into the park, hand in hand. He waved to them as they looked around the playground. The girl saw him wave and started pulling the nanny by the hand as she made her way toward him.

Harry stood and extended his hand to the pleasant-looking young woman, obviously Elizabeth Thompson, the nanny who had written to Minerva.

"Miss Thompson, thanks for agreeing to meet me," he said. He then turned and extended his hand to the child. Anna gazed up at him with dark, bright eyes.

"Are you really a wizard?" she asked in a rather loud whisper as she took his hand. She was dressed rather formally for the park, Harry noted.

"I am," he answered with a smile. "And just like you, I didn't know it until I got my Hogwarts letter. I'm one of the professors at Hogwarts. I hear you'd like to go there this term. "

"Very much," she answered, still holding tight to her nanny with her other hand. "But Papa's not agreed to it yet. He says Scotland is quite far away, but we've been there loads of time, haven't we, on our castle tours? Papa's really taken with castles and has become quite an expert. He also says the Hogwarts curriculum doesn't fully meet his expectations. I'm quite good at the harp, you know, and we didn't see music anywhere in the brochure Professor Sprout left. He's also quite keen on me continuing with maths, and world history. Oh, and he would like me to become fluent in at least one foreign language."

Probably not Gobbledygook, thought Harry. If he had had any doubt that Anna was Severus Snape's daughter, he didn't any longer.

"She can be rather precocious," interjected Elizabeth Thompson, rolling her eyes.

Harry smiled in reply and knelt down on one knee in front of the girl. Her hair, like her eyes, was dark like Snape's but she had a rounder, less angular face. "I've brought my daughter Lily with me to meet you," he said. "She'll be starting at Hogwarts this term as well. Would you like to meet her then play together while I speak with your nanny and then go meet your father?"

Anna nodded politely, looking curiously toward Lily as Harry walked over to stand in front of his daughter then deftly caught her as she hurled herself off the swing toward him.

Five minutes later, after quick introductions, the girls were both swinging and chatting amiably while Harry and Elizabeth sat on the bench. He could hear random pieces of the girls' conversation as the swings moved to and fro.

"…half-giant. He's practically as tall as a house!"

"Are there really ghosts?"

"A giant squid! It supposedly eats first-years…"

"…time for music lessons?"

"There's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff…"

"Where do I buy a wand?"

"Oh, everyone knows my dad…"

Harry tried to tune out the girls as he spoke with Elizabeth.

"As I told you on the phone, we think we may know who Mr. Squires really is," he began. "I've brought a photo with me—it's twenty years old but if it is him, I think you'll know."

He held out a plain envelope and she took it from him and extracted the single photo.

"Definitely him," she said as she studied the photo. A knot, that hadn't been there before, tightened in Harry's stomach. Elizabeth looked up at him after a moment and handed it back. "This is all so unbelievable," she said. "Magic to begin with…and that Mr. Squires might actually get his past back again. How did you know him, anyhow?'

"He was a professor at Hogwarts," answered Harry, struggling to keep his voice even. He didn't know if he wanted to shout or to cry. It's him. It's really him. "He taught Potions there. What does he do now?"

"Research scientist," she answered. "He works mainly on pharmaceutical projects and specializes in brain chemicals. He's made quite a few advances in Alzheimer's treatment."

Harry filed that fact away. Why had he never considered consulting a Muggle specialist for Ginny? And how ironic that the man with no memories had become a specialist in brain chemicals and the treatment of memory loss?

"Why don't you go on to the house and meet him?" she suggested. "I'll stay here with the girls and come around in an hour or so. Lily, isn't it?" she asked, looking toward the two who were still swinging side by side, chatting and laughing loudly as small girls do. "He should have had another, really," she said. "Of course, it's not my place to say so…but he's so very good with her…"

Harry stood and wiped his palms against his trousers. He was terribly nervous. For so many years, he'd lived without closure on Snape's part in the war, in his life and in his defeat of Voldemort. Now he was about to see the man. "I'm an only child myself," he said, not offering an explanation of exactly why he had no brothers and sisters. What could he say—My parents were killed when I was 15 months old..I'm sure they would have had more children had they not been murdered… "But I have three myself—Lily's older brothers are already at Hogwarts."

Elizabeth smiled. "I hope at least one of them has your eyes." She was half-flirting, but Harry didn't mind.

"One does," he said. "He gets tired of being compared to me, though." But I never really got tired of people telling me I have my mother's eyes… "Do you think he'll let me in?" he asked. "When I get to the house?"

"He's been looking for answers for twenty years," she answered. "Show him the photo."

As he started to walk away, she called after him. "And you'd best convince him to let Anna attend that school. I'm moving to France with my boyfriend and am giving my notice next week!"

HP

Five minutes later, Harry stood on the walk facing a brick cottage on the outskirts of Surrey, fortunately nowhere close to the Muggle neighborhood where he had spent 10 years of his own childhood. The home was small but well-kept and the yard was filled with gardens, plants of every sort overgrowing their confining beds. There were beds of flowers in riotous colors, herbs of every description, bushes and shrubs and vines. Oddly, Britain hadn't experienced a summer drought since the demise of Voldemort. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk up the path.

Moments later, the front door swung open to his knock. Harry had braced himself and carefully schooled his features, knowing that momentarily he would be looking at Severus Snape. He was not prepared, however, for the very Muggle-looking man that opened the door. He was wearing black trousers and a grey turtle-neck, his hair was cut short and he was clean-shaven. He looked better than Harry had ever seen him. Age had strengthened his appearance rather than weakened it. He must be 60 now, Harry mused as he held out his hand to the man. He was relieved to see that it wasn't shaking. He took a few deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

"Mr. Squires—I'm Harry Potter, from Hogwarts," he said, forcing a smile.

"The school for magic in Scotland," said Snape neutrally as he shook Harry's hand. "In that castle." His voice had the same timbre Harry remembered but it was softer and a little bit raspy. He was staring at Harry, looking for a moment like a lost boy, trying to dredge up some hidden, elusive memory. His voice cracked slightly as he dropped Harry's hand and took a step backward into the house. "I don't believe I'm going to change my decision but I'm willing to listen. Come in, please."

Harry followed him into the house, stopping in the entry hall as Snape himself had paused there. Snape was looking at Harry's clothing curiously. "You aren't dressed like the wizards in the brochure."

"I could hardly walk through your neighborhood in wizarding robes and a pointy hat," answered Harry. "Besides, I grew up as a Muggle—in Surrey, not too far from here actually."

"You lived in Surrey?" Snape rolled his eyes. "Small world, then." Harry silently agreed. Probably shouldn't tell Snape now that he had been best friends with Harry's mother.

"Your nanny contacted the school a few days ago," he said instead. "After hearing about Hogwarts and the magical world, she seems to think that you may be a wizard too."

Snape stared at Harry, his eyes sharp.

"Did she now?" he said. He sounded cautious.

"She said you lost your memory 20 years ago, and not so coincidentally it seems, we lost our Headmaster at the same time."

They still hadn't moved from the entry hall. Snape was staring unabashedly at Harry's scar. Harry tried not to look at Snape's turtleneck. The silence stretched on. Harry's palms were sweating. He'd had a lot of difficult conversations as an Auror but this trumped them all.

"Headmaster?" said Snape after a long pause.

Harry nodded.

"You recognize me?"

Harry nodded again. "Yeah, I do. I didn't think I'd ever see you again after you d…disappeared."

"I could hardly have been old enough twenty years ago to be a Headmaster," countered Snape.

"You were," said Harry. He hadn't anticipated that one. "Wizards age more slowly than Muggles, and can live nearly twice as long. You were the same age as my parents."

Snape looked incredulous. "Just how old are you?" he asked.

"I'm thirty-eight," answered Harry softly.

"Which makes me at least 60," answered Snape. His face took on a curious, ashen look.

Harry kept his eyes on Snape's, watching the man grapple with the realization that he was at least ten years older than he had thought he was.

"You haven't told me my name yet."

"Severus," answered Harry. "Severus Snape."

"Severus Snape? What kind of name is that?"

"A wizard name," answered Harry, half-truthfully. He'd never actually heard of another Severus, at least not until he'd named his second son Albus Severus. "Look, this is very complicated and it's going to take me a long time to explain it all. Can we sit? Maybe have something to drink?"

Snape stared at him a moment longer then nodded curtly, moving off to one of the rear rooms of the house with Harry following. Harry noticed in an ethereal sort of way that Snape still moved like the professor he remembered, seemingly gliding on the air even though he didn't have the benefit of robes. They entered a comfortable study with a sidebar and Snape poured each of them a measure of scotch, handed Harry his glass, and took a seat in one of the leather chairs.

"I need to know first if I have family," he stated abruptly, looking up quickly at Harry as he spoke.

Harry didn't know what answer Snape wanted but decided that the Snape he knew all those years ago would want the truth without sugar coating. He shook his head. "You weren't married. You had no children that I know of. Your parents died before you disappeared and you had no siblings. But I was only 17 when you disappeared—still a student. There are others that would know more about your extended family." He watched Snape's face. He seemed more relieved than disappointed. He began fiddling with the collar of his turtle-neck shirt as he cleared his throat. As Harry watched, he pulled the collar down to reveal the scar Harry already knew was there.

"Can you tell me how I got this scar?"

Be honest, Harry told himself as he looked for the first time on the horrible scar that marred Snape's neck. The puncture wounds had faded but the torn skin had apparently been healed in the Muggle way, with Muggle stitches, and the scarring was extensive. Snape let go of his collar and the turtleneck moved up to cover his neck again.

"Yes," answered Harry. "But…it's complicated." He already felt like he needed reinforcements—Hermione, or Arthur Weasley—better yet, why not all the Weasleys? Maybe someone from the medical profession should be here—he didn't know how much he should reveal to Snape—perhaps it could hurt Snape's chances of getting all his memories back.

"Go on, then."

In answer, Harry reached into his pocket and placed a miniature basket on the coffee table. He then slid his wand out of his wrist holster and enlarged the basket while Snape's sharp eyes followed his every move. He didn't jump or start when the basket expanded, keeping his eyes on Harry's wand instead of on the basket.

"That is your wand, then?" he asked as Harry rummaged through the Hogwarts "welcome" basket and pulled out a package of Chocolate Frogs. Harry nodded.

"All wands are different—made of different types of wood with different core materials."

"What is yours made of then?" asked Snape, still looking, with apparent fascination, at Harry's wand.

"Holly, with a phoenix feather core."

"Holly I know, but the phoenix is a mythical creature…ah…of course." He stopped speaking after seeing Harry's face. "I assume I had a wand? When I was a wizard?"

"You're still a wizard," answered Harry as he opened several packages of chocolate frogs, ignoring the chocolate frogs that hopped away off the table and onto the floor. "And yes, of course you had a wand."

"Now I know I'm hallucinating," said Snape as a frog leapt from the table onto the couch then disappeared over the top.

"They taste good, too," Harry said, grinning. He gathered a dozen cards into a pile and went through them, pulling one out and setting it aside. "Chocolate frogs come with wizarding trading cards—each one featuring a famous wizard. Here you are." He slid the Snape card across the table toward Severus, who reached for it tentatively. He paled as he read it, staring at the photo for a long time.

"A snake. A giant snake. This cannot be real." His hand went to his neck reflexively, fingering the scar—with its puncture wounds and tears. "I'm described as a Death Eater and a spy. I've no idea what a Death Eater is but it doesn't sound like a profession you'd choose for your child. Your world will not want me back."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "You're wrong about that. Our world considers you a hero."

Snape picked up the card again and considered it. He frowned as he reread the back.

"What is an Order of Merlin?" he asked.

"Rather like being knighted, I suppose," said Harry.

"It says that I am 'presumed dead.' That my body was never found. Imagine that."

"We did look," said Harry, feeling defensive. He could have added for years but didn't really want to show his hand yet.

Snape was eying the pile of Chocolate Frog cards Harry had discarded in his search for Severus' own card. He reached out and drew them to him and Harry couldn't help an intake of breath. He knew what else was in the pile and he hadn't yet told Severus that he had murdered the headmaster nor had he let on what role he himself had played in the great war.

"Look," said Harry as Severus straightened the pile and picked up the top card—fortunately Neville Longbottom. "There's a lot more to tell you and frankly, it would be best if you didn't get all your information from children's trading cards…"

"Why ever not?" asked Snape, a hint of his old snarkiness showing through. "They're colorful and succinct. Why, this one features a giant decapitated snake. I assume the same one that gave me the scar?" He looked up to see Harry's reluctant nod. "Why, I must thank Mr. Longbottom for avenging my supposed murder, then. And look—here's a redhead with spots—a Mr. Ronald Weasley. Says he's a great strategist, best friend of Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy who…" His voice trailed off as he glanced up at Harry, quickly finished reading the card then picked up the next. Damn. Dumbledore.

"You may want to call in reinforcements, Mr. Potter," said Snape as he finished the last card. "I have a great many questions."

"I told you it was complicated," said Harry. "Look, I really don't want to sit here and tell you everything. There's a good chance you'll get your memories back…."

"Impossible," said Snape. "I have tried everything…"

"Except magic," interrupted Harry. "You haven't tried magic. There are reasons you may not be able to access your memories…magical reasons."

"Oh?" said Snape. Is left eyebrow raised in what Harry remembered as a very Snape-like gesture. "Given the content of those trading cards, I'm not sure I should still want them back."

The front door opened just then and a child's voice exclaimed "Papa! Papa! They have ghosts at the castle! And a poltergeist named Peeves. And a half-giant named Hagrid! And a giant squid in the lake! What's the squid's name, Lily?"

Harry grinned as Snape's face softened at the sound of his daughter's voice. "I brought my daughter to meet Anna. She's starting at Hogwarts this year."

"That's playing dirty," said Snape. He scowled but Harry thought he looked more amused than irritated. "Anna will never let this go now." He reached out to grab a chocolate frog that was hopping across the table, examined it then bit its head off. "I'm not prepared to send my only child off to Scotland."

"All the more reason for you to rejoin the magical world then—you could come back to Hogwarts and see her every day."

The two girls barreled into the room before Snape could reply. Anna threw her arms around her father as Lily plopped herself unceremoniously down on Harry's lap.

"They DO have music there, Papa! We've got to go see Hogwarts. How can you really know if it's bad or good if we haven't at least visited?"

Snape looked at his daughter a long moment then shot a grinning Harry a rather malevolent look before turning to address his daughter.

"Fine. We'll arrange a visit." He pulled some dried grass out of Anna's hair, looking at her curiously. Harry wondered then if Anna wasn't in the habit of getting dirty. "Next week, then?"

"How about today?" suggested Harry. "It's not much past noon. We've got plenty of time still."

"To get to Scotland?" protested Snape. "Are you daft or what?"

"Magic, Papa," said Anna, pulling on her father's hand. "You're forgetting about magic."

"Can we put them on the floo network, Dad?" asked Lily.

"Flu network?" repeated Snape.

"I think a portkey may be less traumatic, don't you?" answered Harry. "Time to call in those reinforcements. Will you stay here with Anna while I go fetch Aunt Hermione?"

"Sure Dad," she said, unconcerned as Harry stood, turned and with a crack disappeared.

"Anyone want to play exploding Snap?" asked Lily brightly, pulling a worn deck of cards from her pocket. She seemed oblivious to the fact that her new friend Anna and her father were still staring at the spot where her father had stood until a few seconds ago.

Twenty minutes later, when Harry Potter and Hermione Granger apparated directly into Snape's home, they found Snape, Anna and Lily sitting at the kitchen table playing Snap.

"I love magic," sighed Anna as the card she was holding over the pile exploded.

Snape was staring at Harry and Hermione, looking both startled and intrigued. Both of his eyebrows were obviously singed.

"Hermione Granger-Weasley," said Hermione, shaking Snape's hand.

"I've always hated traveling in cars," said Snape. "Now I think I know why. Magical travel seems much more efficient."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a significant look, both of them undoubtedly thinking of the way Snape had traveled magically in the year or so before the end.

"Oh, it is," answered Hermione. "And it's not limited to apparition. There's travel by floo and by broom and by port key too."

"And don't forget the Knight Bus!" exclaimed Lily, giggling as Anna tried to catch a rogue chocolate frog.

"A wizarding bus?" asked Anna. "Do you have a wizarding train too, or your own tube?"

"We use the Muggle underground sometimes," answered Lily. "But we do have our own train—it's called the Hogwarts Express and it leaves from King's Cross Station—Platform 9 ¾."

"I've been to King's Cross loads of times!" exclaimed Anna. "But I didn't know they had fractional platforms!"

Hermione set her lips, trying not to smile.

"What, no flying carpets?" asked Snape.

"Mostly outlawed in this country," answered Hermione, this time allowing herself to smile. "And strictly controlled by the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry. It's good to see you again, sir. Harry never gave up hope, you know. That we'd find you some day."

"Didn't he?" said Snape, looking hard at Harry. "He didn't say. In fact, I suspect there's a lot he isn't saying."

"That's probably for the best," answered Hermione. "We really should consult with a memory specialist…"

"I am a memory specialist," interrupted Snape.

"Yes, of course," said Hermione. Harry noted that she'd now adopted her professional demeanor. "I should have been more specific—we really should consult with a specialist on memory loss in wizards. A skilled Legilimens, perhaps…" She looked over at Harry significantly. He was the best of the best now, a talent developed during his years as an Auror.

"I'm going to have to learn an entirely new vocabulary," commented Snape dryly.

"You can learn with me, Papa," said Anna, quite sincerely.

"Of course I can," answered Snape, smoothing her hair out distractedly.

"How about I get out of your hair for the rest of the day?" asked a voice from the doorway.

"Yes, that will be fine, Miss Johnson," answered Snape.

The nanny ducked out of the room and Harry picked up one of the Chocolate Frog cards from the table—Ron's card, it turned out. He held his wand over it and muttered "Portus." The card glowed blue for a moment. He then set the destination and activation phrase.

"You've turned my husband into a port key?" asked Hermione, shaking her head.

"That's my Uncle Ron," commented Lily. "He's awfully funny. I hope you get to meet him soon, Anna. And Uncle George too. He only has one ear, you know." She looked significantly over at Snape and Harry shot her his "now is not the time" look.

"Everyone come on over here—you need to be standing up for this. Put a finger on the card—that's right, just one will do. Ready?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Do you realize how ridiculous we look?"

Anna giggled. Her laughter was suddenly cut off as the group disappeared as the ground seemed to drop out beneath them.

When they arrived at Hogwarts, Harry was quite surprised to see that only the girls had to pick themselves off the ground. Snape was solidly on his feet, staring at the castle looming up before them.

"That was an interesting way to travel," commented Snape. "Quite efficient, if you can get over the feeling of having your guts extracted through your navel."

"Look familiar?" asked Harry as he joined Snape in staring at Hogwarts.

"Unfortunately, no," answered Snape. "But it's magnificent—one of the best I've seen." He reached out for his daughter's hand.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he asked. "Let's get this show on the road."

He began striding purposefully across the lawn up toward the castle, looking for all the world like he owned the place and was claiming his rightful spot on the throne.

Harry sent his Patronus ahead to warn Minerva. His message was simple.

"The Prince has returned."

Chapter 2

Remembering Hogwarts

Harry and Hermione caught up with Severus before he reached the castle doors. His quick and sure steps had slowed slightly as he drew nearer to the castle. Beside him, Anna was nearly jumping with excitement and Lily, who had darted ahead of her new friend, continued her running commentary.

"You can see the giant squid out in the lake if you squint—look right over Dumbledore's tomb. That's the big white thing right on the shore there. And that's Hagrid's hut over there—you can see his dog coming up here to see us. Hey Chester! He's a St. Bernard and he drools a lot but my dad does a really good drying charm so don't worry if he slobbers on you…"

The group was almost to the stairs leading up to the great front doors when Anna ran up to grab her father's hand.

"You can see Hogwarts, can't you Papa?" she asked.

"Of course I can see it," answered Severus. "It's right there in front of us—we're about to walk into it."

Anna tugged on her father's hand again. "No, you don't see. I mean, you DO see. And that's what's important. You can't see Hogwarts unless you're a witch or wizard. It was in the booklet Professor Sprout brought. It has all sorts of charms on it to keep curious Muggles away. If you can see it, it proves you're a wizard, Papa!"

"As if there were any doubt," muttered Harry to Hermione, grinning at her and wanting very much to say how much Anna reminded him of a younger Hermione.

Severus had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Still holding his daughter's hand, he titled his head back to gaze up at the castle. The doors had opened and Minerva McGonagall, wearing dark green robes with a her tartan scarf, stepped out onto the upper landing.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," greeted Hermione as she mounted the stairs and hugged the Headmistress. Harry followed her, smiling as his new boss wrapped her arms around him and whispered "Well done, Harry. The Prince has returned, indeed!"

She let go of Harry in time to reach out a hand to Severus.

"Severus, meet Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Welcome home," she said with a smile as she shook first Severus' hand, then Anna's. "What would you like to be called?" she asked, turning back to Severus.

"What did you call me when you knew me?" answered Severus, looking intently at her.

"Until your last year at Hogwarts, I called you Severus," she answered.

"And what did you call me during my last year?" he countered.

"Why, Headmaster of course," she replied, darting a look over to Harry and Hermione.

Severus continued to look at her, almost as if searching for something slightly beneath the surface, some flicker or glimmer of recognition, perhaps.

"Severus will be fine," he said at last. "I imagine I'll become accustomed to the name eventually. What shall I call you, Headmistress?"'

"Minerva," she replied definitively. The corners of her mouth were beginning to turn up as she looked at her former colleague. "Severus, I cannot tell you how good it is to see you again. I must admit I was beginning to wonder if Harry was wrong and you really were dead."

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said, his mouth turning up in an almost-smile very similar to her own.

"Mark Twain," murmured Hermione.

"Huh?" said Harry.

"Famous American writer," replied Hermione. "Oh, never mind. I'll explain later."

Harry glanced at the white tomb near the lake and at the dark gray marble slab on the ground beside it, the place where they had buried Severus' casket. Probably best to leave that little detail for a later time.

"I know," said Hermione, breaking the silence that had settled over the group. "Why don't I take the girls on a tour? We'll go meet Hagrid and see the highlights while you all talk….about the curriculum, of course," she completed as Anna was biting her bottom lip, looking reluctant to be separated from her father.

"Excellent idea, Hermione," said Minerva. She turned to the two men. "Let's have a cup of tea in my office and leave the girls to explore, shall we?" She turned without waiting for their answer and made her way inside the castle. Harry held the door while Severus followed her inside then slipped in behind him.

They had taken only a few steps when Severus stopped and unabashedly stared at the four huge hourglasses full of precious gems.

"House points," explained Harry. "One hourglass for each house, and the gems count up points as they're awarded or taken away."

"I like the green," commented Severus, turning to the left toward the dungeon stairs instead of following Minerva, who had already started up the great stairs.

"This way, Severus," said Harry, exchanging a quick glance with Minerva. Muscle memory, he thought. Severus' brain didn't recognize this place but his body reacted as it always had, automatically turning toward his dungeon quarters. The experience was becoming more and more surreal. Severus slowed occasionally as they walked, staring at the moving portraits, lifting up the visor on a suit of armor to look inside, glancing inside classrooms. When they reached the gargoyle guarding the stairway to the Headmistresses' office, the stone creature stepped aside and Minerva stepped casually onto the moving stairway while Severus stopped suddenly. Harry almost ran into him.

"Problem?" asked Harry with a smile. He could see that Severus was studying the spiral staircase that moved much like a Muggle escalator and pondering the physics that made it possible. Or impossible. One of those two, anyway.

"Leap of faith," said Harry softly as he stepped by Severus onto the stairway. By the time he'd made the first spiral, Severus had stepped aboard and was riding the staircase up as if he hadn't a concern in the world.

Minerva was already sitting behind her desk, a fully loaded tea tray before her, when Harry entered the room. As always, his eyes were drawn to the two portraits behind her desk. He turned to watch Severus come in. The man appeared to walk without touching the floor—how did he do that?—and glided over toward Minerva.

The reaction was unexpected.

Harry had thought about this moment as they'd walked through the castle. What would Severus do—or say—when confronted with his own portrait in his old office?

What Harry hadn't imagined was the reaction of the other portraits.

When Severus walked into the office, Dumbledore's portrait, which was almost always sleeping when Harry visited, called out "Severus, my boy!"

And the other headmasters and headmistresses began to clap. And cheer. And call out welcomes and congratulations.

Harry supposed time was of no significance to a portrait. They welcomed Severus back to their fold as the hero he was, much as they had welcomed Harry and celebrated his victory when he returned to this very office after the Final Battle. They welcomed Severus as if his victory was fresh, not stale after twenty years. They didn't seem to notice that he was dressed as a Muggle, that his hair was short, his face clean-shaven. These portraits had shared his office every day during that last terrible year, had witnessed his conversations with Dumbledore's portrait, had known what he had had to do.

Severus, for his part, took the welcome in stride. He glanced back at Harry, who still had the same gob-smacked smile on his face, then over at Minerva, who looked inordinately pleased.

"The former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts," she said by way of explanation. "They are congratulating you on your part in the defeat of the Dark Lord twenty years ago. They haven't seen you since you left this office the night he was deposed."

"My boy," Albus was saying, his arms outstretched, a tear on his wrinky portrait cheek. "You survived! You used the port-key and Abeforth was able to help you."

Harry's head jerked away from Severus toward Dumbledore's portrait and he took several quick steps forward as Minerva, too, rose to her feet and pivoted to face the portrait.

"Port-key?" Harry exclaimed. "Abeforth?"

"Albus!" Minerva was saying at the same time. "What does Abeforth have to do with this?"

"Abeforth?" said Severus. "Who the hell is Abeforth?"

Minerva held up her hand to silence her guests then waved her wand at the portraits to silence them as well. She took a step closer to Albus' portrait and Harry moved as close as he could to her, standing against her desk with Severus at his side.

"Albus, we have finally found Severus after 20 years! Harry has been looking for him for much of that time. And all this time you knew he was alive? Yet you said nothing?"

"Minerva, I am only a portrait," answered the former headmaster. "Infused with memories, but not a rational human being. I recall now that I made an emergency port-key for Severus, an empty potions vial that he kept with him at all times. The port-key would take him to Abe's place." He looked imploringly at Severus. "It did work, did it not? It took you to Abe's apartments above the Hog's Head and he was able to treat your wounds?"

"Abe was your brother?" asked a clearly confused and startled Severus. "My Abe was a wizard too? He knew me before my accident?"

Now Harry and Minerva were staring at Severus.

"Abeforth Dumbledore—Abe—was the proprietor of a local pub in the nearby village," said Harry. "Are you saying you knew him? After your accident?"

"He was the one that found me," said Severus. His calm demeanor was beginning to unravel. "He found me on the street next to a dumpster in London and took me to the hospital. He was my benefactor—he paid for my treatment and visited me several times while I was there. When I was released from rehab, he helped me find a flat, helped me establish a new identify when it became obvious I would not get my memory back. He even funded my education. When he died, he left me a tidy sum of money, enough for me to buy my home. And you are saying he knew who I was and never told me?"

"Severus….Severus!" Dumbledore's portrait tried in vain to get the man's attention while Minerva and Harry both began to speak at the same time.

"He was only following your wishes, Severus!" This time, Albus' voice rang out loudly and everyone stopped talking and turned to look at the portrait.

"My wishes?" Severus' voice was low.

"Yes, your wishes. To leave Wizarding Britain if you survived the war. To start all over fresh, not as a hero or a villain. You…you don't remember, Severus?"

"No, he doesn't," said Harry, addressing Albus. "He has no memory of anything before his accident. He didn't even know he's a wizard. He hasn't used magic—intentionally, anyway—since he left."

Albus' portrait face had a look of understanding on it.

"So Abeforth decided that without your memory, you had essentially left Wizarding Britain. Brilliant, quite brilliant."

"I think," said Minerva, walking briskly around her desk to join Harry and Severus, the exquisite tea tray quite forgotten. "I think we should leave this office now and go visit Madam Pomfrey."

"Great idea," answered Harry, shooting a confused look at Albus' portrait.

Severus followed the other two without protest.

"I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed," he admitted as they rode the staircase down. "If I have pieced things together correctly, I played the role of a spy in this war you speak of, some of that time as Headmaster of this school. The chocolate frog card says I killed the former Headmaster, at his request. I doubt that absolves me. At some point after a giant snake bit me and I nearly bled to death, I used a port-key that took me to a pub and the owner of the pub, the former Headmaster's brother, elected to take me to hospital and then helped me set up a new life in London. He never told me about the magical world."

"That about sums it up," said Harry, slowing down as running footsteps were heard from around the corner. The girls hurtled around it a moment later, coming to an abrupt stop when they saw the adults.

"Papa!" exclaimed Anna. "I saw your tomb! Your real tomb! Only you aren't buried there really, are you? You're right here and there's only an empty box with your boots, your robes and your wand under the slab. Hermione told me all about it, about how you disappeared and they never found your body but had a funeral anyway to show you respect."

"You buried my wand?" asked Snape, looking rather critically over at Harry, as if all decisions relating to his death and funeral had been Harry's alone. "Won't I be needing it?"

"Maybe," answered Hermione. "We certainly should retrieve it. It's most likely that it will still work for you, but if your magic has changed, you might need a new one.

"We met Hagrid, Papa!" exclaimed Anna. "He's about 10 feet tall and he has gray stripes in his beard. It's really quite funny but he claims it's distinguished. I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I agreed. Then he took us to see the squid. We all got in this little wooden boat and he tossed some pieces of rock cake in the lake to attract it. They sunk right down and before you know it the squid was there. I got to touch its tentacles, Papa! Do you think we can have calamari for dinner tonight?"

"Let's go down to the kitchens and meet the house elves," suggested Hermione. Like the other adults, with the exception of Severus, her mouth, too, threatened to break into a delighted smile.

Lily's voice could be heard as the three moved off down the staircase. "They're not scary, really. Well, Kreacher can be—sometimes—when I don't pick up my room or eat all my vegetables. But really they're adorable. They have big eyes and ears like bats…"

Minerva, Harry and Severus had paused before the doors of the hospital wing.

"Does Poppy already know?" asked Harry, his hand on the door, ready to swing it open.

"No, let's surprise her, shall we?" answered Minerva.

"Isn't she rather old to be surprising her like this?" asked Harry, a bit worried.

"Harry, she's always been in your camp about Severus," answered Minerva. "It will do her heart good to see that you were right. She can check him over and suggest a specialist."

"Check me over? Excuse me, but I have a physician I've been seeing for years," said Severus, looking about the old building, decorated in a very modern 15th century style, and peaking into the small window on the infirmary door.

"Oh, Poppy's not a doctor," suggested Harry helpfully as he placed a hand on Severus' shoulder and steered him inside. "She's Mediwitch, rather like a healer. Remember—magic?"

Severus appeared to steel himself again and the slightly worried look dissolved under what Harry now recognized as a mask, not unlike, he thought, an Occlumency barrier. Well, Severus was a natural at mind magic years ago, and had gone into mind healing while living as a Muggle. If nothing else, he was showing phenomenal control of his emotions. Harry considered pinching him, wondering if Severus was getting through this so stoically because he had convinced himself he was dreaming.

The three walked into the hospital wing, quietly by instinct although school of course was not yet in session and not a single one of the crisp white cots was occupied. Looking around, Harry could see why Severus might be alarmed. The man was used to Muggle medicine, with electronic equipment, syringes, medication in pill form and all sorts of instruments. He certainly seemed a bit taken aback when Poppy walked out of her office, wearing her long white and grey robes and carrying nothing but her wand.

"Poppy, we have a visitor," Minerva said, reaching out to put her hand on Severus' arm as if to draw him closer to meet Poppy.

Poppy's sharp eyes had gone from Severus' face, the spark of recognition obvious, then to Harry's, taking in his still "I can't believe this is really happening" smile, and finally back to Minerva who was continuing. "Though he only learned of his real name a few hours ago, Mr. Squires here has asked us to call him Severus."

While the three wizards Severus had met to date had all remained as professional as possible when meeting him, offering him their hands to shake and treating him with a guarded respect, Poppy, who had essentially been Severus' physician since he was eleven years old, who had treated him for everything from sniffles to broken bones to the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse, who had stood by him—mentally at least—while he served as Headmaster under Voldemort's reign, let her face break out in a delighted smile as she placed her arms around his neck (quite without invitation Snape thought at the time, though the feeling was as close to a positive memory of old as he could muster) and kissed him on his cheek.

She had tears in her eyes as she brushed her hand across the cheek she had just kissed.

"You look quite distinguished without the beard, Severus. I like it on you."

"Severus has a daughter starting at Hogwarts this year," said Minerva. "Pamona didn't see him during the home visit but his nanny contacted us. When she heard about the magical world, she wondered if her employer was a wizard himself. Seems he's had bouts of accidental magic." Poppy looked from Minerva to Severus to Harry,obviously confused."

Harry stepped in. "Poppy, Severus lost his memory. He doesn't remember anything at all about his life before Nagini bit him. We're only just putting the pieces together of what happened, but Severus has spent twenty years living as a Muggle. I only went to visit him this morning to see that it really was him and to tell him a little bit about his life before he lost his memory."

"By way of Chocolate Frog cards," explained Snape. "So far I've learned that I was bitten by a giant snake, was something called a Death Eater and killed the former headmaster. Yet everyone I have met seems genuinely glad to see me, leading me to believe you were all part of my evil minions."

Harry stopped trying to hide his smile and laughed outright.

"Chocolate Frog cards, Harry?" Poppy's eyebrows almost rose into her hairline.

"I don't think he's seen yours yet," said Harry, winking.

"Oh good!" she said in mock relief. "I've always hated the picture on that thing—makes me look twenty years older."

"Actually," said Harry, shooting Severus a sidelong glance, "there's quite a bit we haven't discussed yet. I wanted to talk with a memory specialist first—I wasn't sure what we should tell Severus about his past, if telling him too much might somehow affect his recovery."

"More?" said Severus, looking curiously over at Harry.

"You're thinking along the right track," said Poppy, patting Harry on the arm and then, as if suddenly remembering that Harry himself had had a rough time of late, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek as well. "We're so glad you're joining us this year, Harry. You made the right decision—you did everything you possibly could for Ginny. Arthur and Molly will take excellent care of her while you're here."

Severus looked over at Harry curiously, but Minerva shook her head slightly, and he let the matter drop.

"Why don't we get started, then?" asked Poppy, reaching out to pull Severus by his forearm over toward a bed near her office in the back.

"My physician always explains procedures before 'getting started,'" protested Severus, but sitting on the bed she indicated nonetheless. "And I usually don't have an audience while being examined." He shot a quick, very Snape-like look at Harry and Minerva.

"She's just going to examine you with her wand," explained Harry.

Severus looked at the wand in her hand and for some reason, did not seem comforted by Harry's statement.

Harry smirked.

"You'll be fully dressed, Severus. She's going to use magic to scan you."

But Severus' attention was now focused on the quill and parchment Poppy had produced from her robes. The quill was spelled to record the results of her examination, and was hovering over the floating parchment close to her right elbow.

"You get used to it," commented Harry. He'd lived in the magical world more than 25 years now, and took quite for granted floating objects, absence of electricity, men in robes and flying broomsticks.

Poppy helped Severus recline on the bed and began her scan while the quill wrote quite busily at her side. Severus' gaze wavered between the wand and the quill and parchment, his eyes widening on occasion when various parts of his body seemed to glow.

"We're going to have to retrieve Severus' wand," said Poppy, looking significantly at Harry.

"They buried it," provided Severus, with a smirk. "Apparently, they buried my robes, my boots and my wand since they obviously didn't have me to bury."

"I was there, Severus," said Poppy softly, continuing her scan. "It's traditional to bury a wizard with his wand. The tomb is under a variety of protection spells placed by Minerva and Harry themselves. Fortunately, they are right here and can remove them." She looked over at Minerva and Harry, then back at Severus. "Would you feel comfortable staying here with me while I finish my examination and ask you a few questions while the Headmistress and Harry go retrieve your wand?"

At this point, Severus seemed resigned. He nodded distractedly, watching with obvious interest as his left forearm began to glow brightly. Had he looked up at the others in the room at that time, he would have seen that all of them seemed unusually interested in that particular part of his anatomy.

Harry broke his gaze away first.

"Right, better get to it. Minerva?"

"Why don't we meet you back in the Great Hall in an hour?" suggested Minerva. "I'll have the house elves send up tea and we'll alert Hermione to be there with the girls at that time."

As they left the hospital wing, Harry glanced back to see Severus' head glowing with an iridescent halo.

"No doubt that he still has his magic anyway," commented Minerva. "But do you think it wise to give his wand back to him at this point?"

"Poppy seems to think so, and she's the expert," he replied as they walked down the great marble staircase and out into the August sunshine. It took only a few minutes to walk down to the burial site. A small cemetery had been created around Dumbledore's tomb, holding the earthly remains of a number of those who lost their lives during the war. Harry stopped at the side by side graves of Remus and Tonks, conjuring a wreath of daisies and placing it against the single tombstone. His eyes moved over to Fred's grave and his face softened into a smile when he saw this month's adornment—a Muggle whoopee cushion. George visited regularly, always leaving something quite Fred-like instead of the traditional flowers. Earlier this year, he'd left a toilet seat.

Minerva was already standing at the base of the marble slab serving as memorial to Snape and covering the coffin containing his wand…and other things. Harry had resolutely prevented himself from thinking of those other things these past two days, but very soon would have to acknowledge what he had slipped into the coffin before it was sealed and interred.

She worked quickly to remove the protection charms which prevented anyone from defacing the gravesite or removing its contents. She nodded at Harry when she finished and he lifted his wand as well, reaching out to feel the spells he had placed twenty years ago, smiling to find them intact and effortlessly cancelling them. Feeling the spells he had placed as a 17-year-old brought back a certain longing for those childhood days. He smiled wryly; his childhood had ended that night on the Astronomy Tower…

When all the protection and preservation spells were undone, Harry and Minerva worked together to raise the marble slab, levitating it to the side and placing it gently on the ground. The plain wooden coffin, preserved beneath the protection spells, looked much the same as it had twenty years ago. Hagrid had made it from a recently fallen tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, hauled to his hut by his half-brother Grawp. Harry had marveled at the time at its raw simplicity and remembered running his hand over it before it was lowered into the ground. On that day, as on the day he thought he had watched Snape die, he had truly believed the man was dead.

Minerva raised the coffin easily with a levitation spell and placed it on top of the slab. She glanced over at Harry, who pocketed his wand and walked over to raise the hinged cover.

The black robes and cape lined the box, with a pair of worn black dragon-hide boots upright at the bottom and Snape's wand placed where his hands would have held it had there been a body to bury.

But Minerva's eyes were on the other two items in the casket, both of them resting in a pool of black cloth just above the wand.

"Harry?" she questioned. "Did you…?"

He nodded quickly. "I slipped them in when I closed it," he murmured, reaching in to pick up the two pieces of a torn photograph, one of them depicting his mother shortly before she died, the other showing a toddler Harry zipping around on a broom. He put the two pieces together. "I wanted him to remember both of us," he said, noting how much his daughter looked like his own mother, though everyone assumed she looked just like Ginny.

Minerva reached past him and picked up the second item, a sparkling glass vial. Twenty years inside a dark tomb and the gossamer threads still glowed as they had that day so long ago when they poured out of their host like his very life and blood. She held the glass up, instantly realizing what it was.

"I didn't want to say anything until we saw them," Harry said very quietly, taking the stoppered vial from her and clasping it tightly in his hand. "I've hardly been able to think of anything else since we found him—but I didn't know what we'd find when we opened the tomb. I didn't know how long they would last…."

Minerva's expression softened. "Not everyone would have kept these," she said. "I am sure some are quite painful."

He looked from Minerva down to his tightly clutched hand, opening it slightly to see the night-light glow of the still living threads of memories. Memories gifted to him by Severus Snape as he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, memories of his mother, their childhood, of Albus Dumbledore, of those months he spent as Headmaster, waiting for the end.

"Well, they weren't really mine, were they?" he asked. "I wanted to give something back, at least make a gesture…" He looked up at her thoughtfully. "That last year I spent here—the Headmaster showed me memories he'd gotten from a number of people, some of them were already dead. He kept them all in separate bottles and I didn't know if there was a secret to preserving them. When we buried these, I really thought Snape was dead. It never even occurred to me he'd need them again, even when I realized he could be alive."

"Don't berate yourself, Harry," said Minerva. She had reached into the tomb and gathered the perfectly preserved clothing, boots and wand and was now using her own wand to replace the coffin back into the ground. Together, she and Harry levitated the heavy marble slab back into place. "You hold hope in your hands—a chance for Severus to regain at least some of what he has lost."

Harry looked up at his old friend with an earnest look on his face.

"Do you think he's better off as he is now? Not remembering what he was?"

Minerva looked thoughtful. "He had a difficult life, Harry. But then again, so did you. Would you want to give up all those memories—both good and bad—for the chance to start all over with a clean slate?"

Harry shook his head. "You know I wouldn't, Minerva."

"Severus apparently didn't have a choice. He built a new life, even had a lovely—and quite precocious—daughter. No surprise there…" She smiled and shook her head slightly. "I would say the choice is his, but…" She replaced her own wand in her pocket and fingered Severus' dark wand, its handle worn as smooth as Harry's. Harry looked at it, realizing that Snape had disappeared at almost the same age Harry was now.

"But?" he asked, reminding Minerva to finish her thought.

"I do think Severus needs to hold his wand again," she said. "A wand chooses the wizard, you know. It's rather like an extension of our body and our magic. Recall what Severus did when he walked into the castle—how he headed toward the dungeon stairs. Perhaps holding his wand will evoke a similar reaction."

Harry carefully pocketed the vial of memories and turned back toward the marble slab, using his wand to straighten it minutely.

"Come Harry, let's go rescue Severus," said Minerva, placing her arm around Harry's waist and together they walked back to the castle.

Behind them, the inscription on the marble slab glinted in the late afternoon sun.

Severus Tobias Snape

1960-1998

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."

Poppy, Severus, Hermione and the girls were already in the Great Hall when Harry and Minerva returned from the gravesite.  They were seated at the faculty table facing the doors from the entry hall, the girls’ heads just visible above the plane of the high table.  Harry and Minerva exchanged a quick glance—Severus looked quite at home at the table, despite having the general appearance of a very proper Muggle. 

“Dad!” exclaimed Lily.  The word echoed and reverberated around the nearly empty room.  “We’re having treacle tart—your favorite!”

A flapping of wings above their heads as a tawny owl flew in with a letter in its beak made everyone at the head table look up before Harry could answer his daughter.

“Owl post!” Lily called out.  “We get our mail by owl here…well, everywhere in the wizarding world,” she explained to Anna, who was watching the great creature swoop down toward them.  The owl landed in front of Severus, who eyed it warily as it dropped the letter on the table in front of him and cocked its head, awaiting its reward.  More wings and an entire flock of owls—from the look of things, nearly every one in the Hogwarts owlery—flew into the Great Hall and headed toward Severus.  He began to look more than mildly alarmed as the owls landed on the table and began to crowd toward him, each of them carrying missives in their beaks instead of tied to their legs.  Harry and Minerva hurried forward, exchanging worried looks.  The owls had dropped their letters and scrolls and Minerva shooed them away as quickly as she could while Harry stood in front of the table and stared at the pile of parchment, some of it yellowed and becoming brittle with age and exposure.

“Minerva, what happens to a letter an owl can’t deliver?” he said, eying the messy stack as Severus opened a scroll that had rolled under the edge of his dessert plate.

“I assumed the owl returned the letter to the sender,” she said.  There were at least forty pieces of parchment on the table now and she was beginning to understand what had happened.  Her initial fears that someone had seen Severus or had given away his location were eased.  Instead, it appeared as if the letters sent to him over the past twenty years were now being delivered, that Hogwarts had been his last known location so the owls, unable to locate him, had, by the look and smell of the parchment letters, been dropping off their undeliverable owl post in the owlery. 

“I thought so too,” said Harry, glancing over at Hermione.  “But now I’d have to guess that they’ve got a dead mail drop box up in the owlery somewhere.

“This one’s from you,” said Severus suddenly, glancing over at Harry as he continued to read the letter, his eyebrows knitting as he worked his way through it.  As he neared the end, he raised an eyebrow.

“It seems you had some anger issues to work out,” he said, placing the letter to the left of his plate and reaching for another one.  Hermione shook her head and smiled.

“Oooh!  Here’s a pretty one with a red wax seal!” exclaimed Anna, reaching for and picking up a tightly rolled scroll of rich vellum, closed with a dollop of wax with a very recognizable seal.

“Here, honey, let me have that one,” said Hermione, taking the scroll from the small girl—it was obviously from one of the Malfoys.  “Why don’t you look at this one instead?”  Hermione handed over what appeared to be a Potions journal.

Severus had finished a second letter and started on a third. 

“Are all of these from you?” he asked Harry, pulling his attention away from the letter and giving Harry an interested look.

“No, surely not all of them,” muttered Harry, reddening slightly.  He looked like he very much wanted to sweep the letters off the table into a trash can.  “I usually wrote only twice a year…”

“Yes, in January and May,” commented Severus dryly. 

“Your birthday is in January,” muttered Harry.  Severus looked up at him and gave an odd little half smile.

“Sounds like you could have used some grief counseling too,” remarked Severus as he finished the third letter. 

“Look Papa,” said Anna excitedly, pushing the open magazine she’d been examining over toward her father.  “You’re in this one.  Page 33.  What’s lycanthropy?”  She did a remarkable job with the pronunciation.

Snape put down the letter he was reading to stare at the article she pointed out.  He scanned it then looked quickly over at the adult wizards in the room.  Harry interpreted his unvoiced question correctly.

“Yes, it really does exist in our world,” he said quietly, thinking, as he always did, of Remus.  He smiled wryly, remembering how Snape had made the Wolfsbane potion for Remus while Remus was the DADA teacher here and how Harry had instantly suspected Snape of trying to poison him.

“You were one of the leading researchers in the field,” put in Poppy, a nostalgic smile softening her lined face.  “The wizarding world lost more than a brave Headmaster when you disappeared.  Potions research in several key areas was set back as much as five years.”

Severus shook his head slightly as he picked up yet another letter and began to scan it.

“You named your child after me?” he said a moment later, fixing Harry with an unreadable gaze.  “You named a child Severus?”

“Albus Severus,” replied Harry, meeting the man’s eyes.  He was not going to be embarrassed about this one.  He had a lot of practice—13 years of it, in fact—in defending his choice of middle name for his second child.  “And it’s not a bad name.  He’s named for the bravest two men I’ve ever known.  He considers it to be an honor.”

The two men locked eyes for a long moment.  Finally, seeing the sincerity in Harry’s eyes, Severus nodded curtly and folded the letter.  He didn’t pick up another.

Minerva conjured a basket and helped scoop all the letters into it.  Severus suddenly looked up, after filling the basket to the brim and shooting a calculating look at Harry.

“Did you retrieve my wand?” he asked, dark eyes searching the pile of items Minerva had placed on the Ravenclaw table as she had hurried to the front to deal with the owls.

“Of course,” she answered, collecting the wand and bringing it forward.  “And it’s in perfect condition—beautifully preserved these past 20 years.”  She placed it on the table and scooted it across toward Severus.  He reached out with his right hand and grasped the wand by its handle, picking it up in much the same way he must have when he last held it twenty years ago.  Yet when he lifted it, he did so carefully, almost tentatively.

“Try a Lumos,” suggested Poppy.  “It’s quite a commonplace spell—one of the first learned.”  Harry took out his wand and demonstrated the simple forward motion.  The tip of his wand lit up with a bright glow and he pointed it into a corner of the room to illuminate a painting depicting a herd of centaurs pursuing a squat, human woman.  It had always been one of his favorites.

Severus eyed Harry’s wand then looked back at his own speculatively.

“You didn’t say the word,” he commented, looking back at Harry, who was now pointing his wand at the helmet of a suit of armor in the opposite corner.  He light bounced off the shiny steel and danced across the opposite wall.

“Non-verbal magic,” commented Minerva before Harry could open his mouth.  “It’s not always necessary to speak the words of a spell out loud. You can think them—with intent, of course,” she added.

Severus shrugged.

“Lumos,” he said, firmly but not too loudly, jabbing his wand forward as if poking it into the chest of an errant student caught out after curfew.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Lily as a blinding beam of light poured out of the wand tip straight into an unsuspecting Harry’s face.  Harry dropped his wand and covered his eyes with his hands, crying out.  Poppy was up in an instant, her chair toppling over backward as she rushed around the table toward Harry who was now blindly groping around on the floor for his wand,  his arm still covering his eyes.  Lily shrieked and followed, going under the table instead of around it.

“Nox, Severus, Nox!” instructed Minerva.

“Harry!”  Hermione stood up but stayed on her side of the table, a hand on Anna’s trembling shoulder.

“Nox?” repeated Severus.  His wand, which was now pointed straight up, its beam of light as wide as a searchlight and ten times as intense, snuffed itself out and he dropped it in surprise.

Lily was hovering near her father who had curled up on the floor, still clutching his eyes, as Poppy tried to coax him to open them so she could examine him.  Severus had sagged in his seat and was staring accusingly at his wand which was resting quite innocently on the table.

“His didn’t do that,” he stated.

“Harry isn’t storing twenty years of repressed magic,” answered Minerva, glancing over at Harry with concern then back at her former colleague.  She looked flustered.  “I’m sorry, Severus,” she said apologetically, “I should have realized…normally it’s such an innocent spell…”

“Is he going to be alright?  Did I blind him?”  Severus had gotten to his feet and was leaning forward over the table to watch Poppy examine Harry. 

“Poppy?” asked Minerva.

“Retinal damage,” she answered.  She then directed her attention to Lily, who, at her pronouncement, had been unable to stop the flow of tears she had been holding back.  “We’ll fix him up in a trice, Lily,” she reassured her.  “He’ll have to keep his eyes covered for a day or two, but he’ll be right as rain.

Harry was struggling to sit up.  “Covered?  I can’t…”

“You can and you will,” answered Poppy forcefully.  “This is 100% treatable but you’re going to have to take it easy for a day or two and let the regenerative potion do its work.”  She conjured a stretcher and helped him scoot over onto it.

“But the boys…” he began, looking helplessly toward where Hermione had been sitting before the blinding Lumos.

“We’ll keep them,” said Hermione.  “If there are any problems, we’ll take them to the Burrow to degnome the garden for Mum.”

“You’d best come up to the infirmary too, Severus,” said Minerva.  “Now that you’ve started to unleash some of that power I doubt it will stay dormant.”

Severus’ hand, resting now on the table, was trembling and unbelievably, seemed to be inching closer to the offending wand.  Hermione, still standing behind Anna, reached out quickly and picked it up.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” she said quietly so only Severus could hear.

“You wouldn’t believe…” he muttered in reply. 

He was extremely shaky as he stood so Minerva walked beside him to provide a steadying arm as they followed Harry’s stretcher up to the infirmary. 

“Be still, Harry,” warned Poppy as they neared the hospital wing.  Harry was shifting on the stretcher, seemingly rummaging around in his pocket. 

“Hermione, can you help Severus?” asked Minerva, moving up toward Harry as Hermione took her place beside her former professor.

Harry’s fingers seemed to be glowing softly, the light brightening when he opened them to pass the vial he had removed from his robe pocket to Minerva.

“Oh, Harry…” breathed Hermione, clearly understanding the significance of what Minerva was holding. “You kept them!  I’ve been wondering ever since you apparated over and told us about Severus…but I didn’t dare ask.”

“What is that thing?” asked Anna.  “It’s glowing.”  She followed her father and the rest of the group inside the infirmary where Poppy helped Harry off the stretcher and onto one of the beds and Hermione helped Severus settle on another.  The bed had not been used all summer and the house elves had not yet stripped them to wash the linens to prepare for the coming influx of students.  A cloud of dust rose up around Severus as he sat down and he sneezed.  Smoke poured from his ears as he did so.  Anna jumped back in alarm but Severus simply sighed, seemingly resigned to one of those kinds of days where you feel like you’re dreaming no matter how many times you pinch yourself.

Poppy had hurried to the dispensary and returned with a potion bottle which she uncorked and handed to Harry.  It began billowing pink steam as soon as she opened it.

“Drink up,” she said.  Harry grimaced but obeyed, his face taking on the disgusted look of a small child made to take his medicine.  The temporary mask Poppy had conjured in the Great Hall to protect his eyes was removed and she used a localized Petrificus on his eyes to prevent him from opening them, then covered them again with a gauze bandage which she wrapped around his head several time, making his hair stick up more than usual. 

“Severus, it may not be safe for you to return home this evening.  I really need to call in a specialist—I don’t know of any other cases like yours.  I imagine there must be a way to siphon off some of that excess magical energy…”

Severus sneezed again.  Several butterflies flew out of his mouth and fluttered about his head.  Anna clasped her hand to her mouth as Severus dropped his head into his hands.

“Now, now, Severus,” said Poppy, sitting down next to him and patting his knee.  She disturbed the dust in doing so and it billowed up around them.  Hermione, Anna and Minerva all took a step backward as Severus held a finger up to his nose.  It seemed as if he had managed to stifle the sneeze but as soon as he replaced his hand in his lap the sneeze erupted. 

“Bat bogeys!” screamed Lily, recovering a bit from her funk as two great green bogeys flew out of Severus’ spacious nostrils and flapped around a bit before Hermione managed to get her wand out and cast a Finite.

“Wow!” breathed Anna, seemingly completely in awe.  “I’ve never seen you with bogeys before, Papa.”

Severus managed a smile.

“Well, I’ve seen you with them,” he said. 

“Papa!” Anna exclaimed, her face pinking a bit as she glanced over at Lily.  The conversation, and the giant flapping bogeys, had apparently helped to lift the girl out of her funk over her father’s injury.

“You should have seen it, Dad,” said Lily with a giggle.  “Giant bogeys flying out of Professor Snape’s nostrils!  They were really really green too.”

Harry smiled.  “Finally, a reason to be thankful I can’t see,” he quipped.

“Why don’t we have him try another spell?” asked Hermione.  “Perhaps a Summoning or a Levitation charm?”  She was still holding Severus’ wand and Poppy snatched it away from her quickly.

“You’re usually much more grounded in reality, Hermione,” she said.  “He could kill someone with an Accio!”

“Accio?” asked Severus, following the exchange, his head moving back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match.

“The incantation for the summoning charm,” explained Hermione.  She pointed her wand at a pillow across the room. “Accio pillow,” she said and the pillow flew across the room toward her.  She caught it deftly.

“While all of this hocus pocus is highly entertaining,” said Severus, “I have a job to get to tomorrow and Anna has a harp lesson in the morning.  I am sure I can contain my magic for another few days…”

“And if butterflies fly out of your mouth when you sneeze at work?” asked Minerva, her usually stern face relaxing into a smile.

“Hmmph,” said Severus.

“I have another incentive to get you to stay a bit longer,” said Minerva.

“Isn’t sticking around to see if I can see when Poppy unsticks my eyelids incentive enough?” asked Harry, a bit crossly.

“From what I read in those letters, me blinding you is no worse than you letting me nearly bleed to death,” replied Severus.

“Git,” muttered Harry but a pleased smile crossed his face as he settled back into the comfortable pillows Poppy had piled beneath his head.  Those letters, written so long ago, had helped him work out his guilt, his sense of loss and his confusion over the man who hated him, yet gave up everything for him.

“Back to my incentive,” said Minerva.  She held up the glowing vial.

“Severus, 20 years ago, just before you apparently died, you gave these memories to Harry to help him with his quest to kill Lord Voldemort.  He saved them and placed them in your coffin before it was interred.  We found them intact when we retrieved your wand.  It’s possible that they can be restored and provide you with at least some memory of your past life.”

“But a memory is not a tangible thread,” said Severus, eyes fixed on the vial with its moving, glowing strands.  “And while memories can certainly be lost, they cannot be restored from an outside source…”

“Magic, Papa,” said Anna, sitting down on the other side of Severus and placing her small arm around his waist.  She’d forgotten about the dust, of course, and Severus sneezed again as it flew upward into his nose.  This time, his hair grew several inches as if forced out from the roots by the force of the sneeze.

“It’s the record of the memory that’s tangible,” explained Hermione, “not the memory itself.”  She pulled one of the old-fashioned straight-back wooden chairs from beside the bed behind her and arranged it in front of the bed Severus, Poppy and Anna were sitting on. “ Hundreds of years ago, wizards discovered a way to extract the record of a memory so that it could be viewed and studied from an outside perspective.  Memory strands are placed in a special basin called a Pensieve and examined and even relived.”

“I’ll go get Albus’ Pensieve,” said Minerva, slipping out the infirmary door while Hermione continued to explain the phenomena.

Hermione scooted her chair a little bit closer to Severus.  Her eyes were shining with emotion.

“I was there that night—in the Shrieking Shack—with Harry.  You’d been bitten by Voldemort’s snake without having had the chance to tell Harry what he had to do to defeat him.  You couldn’t talk so you forced out the memories and we collected them.  He came back here to view them…well, the rest is history, I guess,” she said.

“A memory…once it is removed…can be restored?” asked Severus.

“Yes—it’s a simple wand motion,” answered Hermione.  She looked at Severus frankly.  “However, I have no idea what would happen to a handful of memories returned to the brain of an amnesiac.  Would you have enough context to make sense of them?”

“That’s why I suggested a specialist,” commented Poppy.  “As I told you earlier, I didn’t detect any magical reason at all for your memory loss during your exam.  Basically, that means no Obliviate or Confundus spells, no blocks.  But I didn’t find any brain trauma or other physical causes either.”

Harry, obviously listening from the other bed, spoke up.  “Isn’t it possible that Severus’ amnesia was caused by him giving away the memories?”  His voice had a slight worried edge to it, as if it were somehow his fault that the man had lived twenty years in the Muggle world with no knowledge or awareness of his past.

“Harry…”  Hermione’s voice had that tone he’d learned to recognize so well over the more than 25 years he had known her.  It was the tone that said “Don’t blame yourself…don’t put yourself down…you’re not alone in this.” It was a tone he’d hated when he just wanted to have a little pity party for himself and the tone he’d loved when he felt like it was Harry against the world.

“I know,” Harry said.  “Not my fault.  I didn’t ask for the memories.  But still…”

Minerva pushed through the swinging doors into the ward just then carrying a heavy stone bowl with runic engravings.  She placed it on a small table near the bed Severus was sitting in.

“I took the liberty of floo calling my niece’s husband,” she stated as she adjusted the position of the heavy bowl, centering it carefully on the table.  She looked up at Severus.  “Stuart is a researcher at the Hoffenmeister Institute of Mind Studies.  He was very interested in your case, Severus, and agreed to come by as soon as he can.”

Severus nodded distractedly as he looked at the basin.  “This is a Pensieve?”

“A particularly fine example of one,” answered Minerva.  She held the tip of her wand to her temple, pausing then pulling the wand away at an angle.  Severus and Anna stared in awe as a whispy and glowing strand emerged, clinging to the end of her wand.  She dropped it into the Pensieve.  It expanded into a misty smoky sort of liquid, filling up most of the space in the bowl.

“Lily, I know you already know all about the Sorting, but Amanda surely does not.  I’d rather like it to be a surprise for her, and since this memory is about her father’s sorting, it would be best if you two sit this one out.”

Lily’s face fell a bit, but she glanced over at Anna and Anna shrugged.  Not wanting to be the childish o-ne, she shrugged too. “Alright,” she said.  “Can we play gobstones, then?”

Poppy handed Lily a rather rumpled Quidditch magazine.  It was at least six months old and had been left in the hospital wing by one of the students after an extended stay for appendicitis.

“Why don’t you read to your dad first to entertain him?” she suggested.  “I’ll just be in my office.”  She pointed to a door at the back of the room.

“I’m pretty sure he’s already read this one,” said Lily, looking at the date then shooting an exasperated look at her dad who, of course, was currently sightless and couldn’t appreciate it.

“It’s fine, Lils,” said Harry, patting the bed beside him.  “I don’t mind hearing things twice.  Come on over here.”

Lily and Anna both flopped on the bed beside him as Hermione and Minerva showed Severus how to bend down over the Pensieve and touch his nose to the almost-liquid in the bowl.

“How long are they going to stay like that?” asked Anna a few minutes later when the three adults at the Pensive hadn’t so much as moved. “They don’t look too comfortable.”

“They’re fine,” said Harry, remembering the cricks in his back he’d sometimes had after a particularly long time bending over Dumbeldore’s Pensieve.  “They’re just watching Minerva’s memory inside the Pensieve. Sometimes that takes a while.”

It was a full fifteen minutes later when Minerva stood up.  Her back gave an audible creak.  Hermione was next and together they took Severus’ arms and raised his face out of the bowl.  He looked more confused than ever.

“Who is Lily Evans?” he said, whirling to face Minerva.  “And why did she cry when I was sorted into Slytherin?”

“Lily was my mother,” said Harry from his bed, his voice soft but steady.  “You were childhood friends.  I guess she had hoped you’d be in the same house at Hogwarts.”

Severus stared at Harry for a moment, then his gaze flicked over to the other Lily who was staring back at him curiously.

“You look like her,” said Severus, also softly, as he sat down and dropped his head into his hands.  “This is surreal.  I should not be able to observe a memory and witness my childhood self.”  He looked up, his eyes wide and slightly lost.  “I can’t explain it, but I have a memory of my childhood now.  It’s almost as if I remember that day…but not quite.”  He stood up and walked over to the Pensive again, looking into the strange substance that reminded one of clouds lit by starlight.  “There is nothing to connect the memory to, nothing before it, nothing after it.  Yet still…”

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a voice at the door, interrupting none-the-less.

“My nephew, Stuart Bell,” said Minerva.  Hermione introduced herself and Harry waved from his bed.  Stuart looked at him and tried to hide his surprise.  Lily caught his look,  however, and rolled her eyes.

Finally, he turned to Severus and shook his hand.

“You must be Severus,” he said.  “I went to school in the States so haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before.  Are you comfortable being called Severus?”

Severus rolled his eyes.  “I doubt I’ll ever be totally comfortable with an appellation like that,” he said.  “In my other life, I’m known as Stephen Squires.”

Stuart’s mouth dropped open.

“Stephen Squires?  As in Stephen Squires the Research Scientist?  The one who’s made so many advances in Alzheimer’s research?”  His voice was becoming higher pitched and he virtually shook with excitement.

“That’s him,” said Anna, a bit smugly.

“I am so honored to meet you,” exclaimed Stuart, taking Severus’ hand again and pumping it.  “I’ve read everything you’ve ever written. You’re closer to a break-through with Alzheimer’s than anyone else in the world.  While we don’t have Alzheimer’s per se in the wizarding world, we do have a variety of brain maladies and are of course plagued by cognitive loss from brain injuries…”

Severus was staring at Stuart. 

“Do you publish under another name?  Stuart August, perhaps?”

Stuart laughed.  “Caught me.  Wouldn’t want anyone in the magical world to think I’m giving away secrets so I disguise my identity.  Ironic, isn’t it?  I’ve been reading your work for at least ten years and never once suspected you were a wizard.”

“Neither did he,” said Harry.  His tone of voice conveyed the rolling of eyes you couldn’t see behind his bandages.

“I think I need a drink,” said Severus.

“That will just make the errant magic more hard to control,” said Stuart.  “Have you tried using a wand yet?  You can usually channel excess energy with the wand…”

“That’s how I got in this situation,” commented Harry, trying to direct his statement at the invisible—to him at least—Stuart.  “It’s probably best to work on some other ways to siphon off that magical energy.”

“Yes, if you insist on Severus using a wand, you should probably go out on the Quidditch Pitch where not much can hurt you,” suggested Hermione.

“Except rampaging centaurs,” said Harry.

“Centaurs?”

“Magic, Papa.  Remember?” asked Anna.

“I remember,” he answered.  Severus looked around the room, taking in the sleeping portraits, stone walls, bubbling potion bottles and collection of wizards, each one dressed more oddly than the next. How could I forget?

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.'

At 8:30 the next morning, Severus was reclining in bed enjoying a surprisingly good full English breakfast. He had helped Harry into the bathroom twenty minutes earlier where Harry was currently (by the sound of the singing, anyway) enjoying a shower. Madam Pomfrey had brought in a newspaper with Severus' breakfast and he was reading the headlines, completely distracted by the moving black and white photographs and the journalistic style more suited to the turn of the century—the 20th Century, that is—than to modern day Britain. The front page featured a photo spread of the entire "Wizangamut," whatever the heck that was. To Severus, the assembled group resembled the surviving members of the Oxford graduating class of 1940. The moving photo showed more than one of them nodding off then jerking awake to wave blearily at the camera.

Severus used his last square of toast to mop up some runny egg yolk and was brushing the crumbs off of his borrowed bathrobe (if Harry ever got out of the bathroom he'd get dressed again) when the infirmary door opened and a tall stranger entered, trailed by a small boy of three or four years. The man was wearing black robes with what Severus now recognized as the Hogwarts crest over khaki pants and hiking boots. He had nondescript brown hair, worn long and clipped at the base of his neck, and moved with an air of familiarity with his surroundings. He obviously was expecting to find Severus in the room for he looked around upon entering and hesitated only long enough upon seeing him for Severus to know that here again was a former student, one who knew a different Severus in a different time. The child following him had sandy hair and a plump, friendly face. He was wearing a pair of short denim overalls over a shirt with wide blue and white stripes and was clutching a worn grey plushie.

"Professor," said the man in greeting, extending his hand and shaking Snape's firmly. Severus' opinion of the man rose a notch at the firm handshake and the direct eye contact, even though it was plainly obvious that the man was vaguely uncomfortable. He nodded at the man and smiled at the boy, waiting for the inevitable introductions.

"Neville Longbottom," the man continued. "I'm the Herbology Professor here at Hogwarts. This is my son Frankie."

"I suppose this is a reintroduction?" asked Severus.

"It is," replied Neville, smiling. Ice broken, Neville looked somewhat less uncomfortable in his presence.

"Hello, Frankie," said Severus as the boy took half a step sideways to stand behind his father's right leg.

"Hullo," said the boy in a small voice, peeking out from behind his dad.

"That's an interesting horse you have there," said Severus, eyes straying to the gray and white rear end of a dappled horse, the only part of the toy that was showing from where the boy had it wedged between his side and his arm.

"'T's not a horsie," whispered the boy, extracting the toy from where it was wedged and holding it out to show Severus.

"Ahhh, no, it's not," agreed Severus, noting the lion's head and the wings. "A hippogriff, then?" He glanced at Neville for confirmation, noting the surprised expression on the man's face.

"Mythology is one of my pastimes," explained Severus as the small boy nodded and tucked the toy back next to his body. Neville sat down on the bed across from him and Frankie settled between his legs, facing Severus.

"I've been recruited to help Ron and the kids out at your house today," said Neville. "With the yard work," he clarified with a smile when Severus looked perplexed. "Anyway, I've popped over there already to take a look around and have a few questions for you before we get started."

"Popped…" repeated Severus, turning the word and its meaning over in his mind and wondering if old Miss Hawthorne next door, who had a penchant for spying out her kitchen window into his garden, had witnessed any "popping" and was now lying comatose on her kitchen floor. He shook off that disturbingly pleasant thought. "Questions. About my gardens, I take it? I really only suggested that the Potter boys mow the grass…"

Neville held up a hand. "No, really, Professor, it's my pleasure. Your gardens are beautiful—the most wizard-like Muggle gardens I've ever seen, in fact. The roses are superb! Do you do your own cross-breeding?"

And they were off. They were still deep in discussion about composting, pH levels and rose cultivation when Madam Pomfrey led Harry back into the room fifteen minutes later. Frankie, who had been behaving himself admirably amid the boring horticulture discussion, talking quietly to his plushie, caught sight of the two.

"Uncle Harry!" he exclaimed. "Aunt Poppy!" He looked up at his father, silently asking permission, and Neville nodded. Frankie virtually skipped over to the bed where Poppy had settled Harry, climbing up without invitation.

"What's wrong with your eyes, Uncle Harry?" he asked, patting the mask on Harry's face.

"I had an accident yesterday," said Harry, wrapping his arms around the child and giving him a raspberry on the cheek. Frankie giggled and wiped at his cheek. "Aunt Poppy will take the bandages off in a few hours then I'll be fine."

"What kinda accident?" asked Frankie, not giving up. "Did a potion 'splode in your face?"

Harry grinned. "No, not a potion."

"Uncle Harry needs some rest," said Poppy, picking up Frankie and giving him a hug.

"Uncle Harry needs a drink," muttered Harry. Neville smirked and Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Let's get moving, Frankie," said Neville, standing up. "We can come back and see Uncle Harry when he's better.

"And James an' Albus an' Lily?" asked Frankie, trotting over beside Neville. "And Kreacher too?"

"Creature?" asked Severus when the two had disappeared out of site and Poppy had returned to her office.

"Our house elf," explained Harry.

"House elf? What exactly is a house elf?" Elves to Severus were either Father Christmas' helpers or very intense human-like beings in J. R. R. Tolkein's works.

"House elves are magical creatures. More than one hundred of them work here at Hogwarts," said Harry. "Would you like to meet one?" Not waiting for an answer, he snapped his fingers and called "Winky!"

"Winky?" Severus repeated weakly just before Winky the house elf popped into the room.

"Master Harry Potter sir," said Winky, bowing low enough to touch her forehead to the floor. Given the size of her nose, Severus was sure that it had to be squashed flat against the hardwood. "You is needing Winky, sir?" She stood back up and got her first real glimpse of Harry. "Oh, Master Harry Potter, you is hurt. Your eyes!" She took a few wavering steps toward Harry, staring at the bandage-like mask over his eyes.

"I'm fine, Winky. Madam Pomfrey will remove the bandages later today and I'll be out of here. I called you up here to meet a special visitor." He waved his hand in the general direction of Severus' bed.

Winky turned slowly around, eyes finally resting on Severus. She began a polite greeting but her mouth froze open and her already huge eyes widened.

"Headmaster Snape!" she squeaked before dropping to the floor and prostrating herself before him.

"She's flat on the floor, isn't she?" Severus lifted his head to look at Harry, who tried but could not hide the smirk on his face.

"Quite," answered Snape, continuing to stare with fascination and a bit of horror at the tiny creature. "Care to explain?"

Harry pretended to check his watch which, of course, he could not see. "Let's give it a couple more minutes…."

By this time, Winky had gotten to her feet and had shot a delighted toothy smile back at Harry before disappearing with a loud crack.

"It might help to know that the house elves consider you to be a minor deity. They are always completely loyal to the current headmaster, whoever that may be, and during your short time as headmaster you somehow managed to win not just their loyalty but their devotion as well. If you do get your memories back, we'd all like to know exactly what you did…"

A sharp crack, followed by a quick sequence of more cracks, reminding Severus of popping popcorn, interrupted Harry.

"I'd give away my best racing broom to see this," chuckled Harry as between his bed and Severus at least twenty house elves appeared and dropped to the floor in supine positions, heads facing Severus.

"You'd think this would spark my memory," commented Severus, dryly as Poppy appeared in her office door.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed. "I forgot about the house elves! I always did wonder what you did…"

After Harry had explained to the house elf contingent that Headmaster Snape had lost his memory and was here at Hogwarts working to restore it, they consented to go back to the kitchens but not until each and every one of them personally thanked Severus for his service to Hogwarts. A few managed to kiss his hand before he sat on it.

"Who names these creatures?" he exclaimed when the last one had popped away. "Binky? Knobby? Bunko? They sound like reindeer names!"

Harry laughed. "They're not pets, Severus. Despite their mishandling of the English language, they're really quite intelligent. They name their own children, of course," he said. "They seem to love alliteration and have a fondness for rhyming."

Severus shook his head. "I was wondering something else, about the young man who was in her a few minutes ago."

"Neville?" asked Harry. "I've known him forever. What would you like to know?"

"He's the young man mentioned on the Chocolate Frog card? The one that beheaded the snake?"

"Yes, he is," replied Harry. He loved the depiction of Neville in that card, wielding the great sword of Gryffindor like it was made for his hands alone.

"There was something there…beneath the surface," said Snape. "He was polite—confident even, professional. But I had the distinct feeling that he was making an effort to see me with different eyes."

"Older eyes," said Harry, unconsciously rubbing his own beneath the mask. "It's easier to forgive your professors when you have a dozen or more years of growing up and raising your own kids under your belt."

"Ahhh. So there is something to forgive, then?"

The smile that came to Harry's face at Severus' statement was more wry than amused.

"Have you ever heard of a boggart, Severus?"

"Of course," answered Severus. "It's a household sprite—thought to be responsible for all sorts of mischief and misfortune." He glanced over at Harry and sighed. "You're about to tell me that boggarts are real, aren't you?"

Harry laughed. "A real magical boggart is a kind of shape-shifter. They take on the shape and appearance of what a person most fears. In third year, our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had us face a boggart he'd trapped. It turned into you when Neville faced it."

Severus remained silent and Harry finally spoke.

"Neville was pants at Potions. Well, he was pants in your class anyway. He was terrified of you and was so nervous in class that he made a lot of mistakes and was constantly melting or blowing up cauldrons. His name eventually became a verb—though the meaning of 'to Longbottom' something has changed over the years."

"Oh? How so?" asked Severus, his voice carefully neutral.

"Well," answered Harry, "To 'Longbottom' something originally meant to mess it up in a big way—like if you tried to transfigure a pincushion into a porcupine and ended up with a blast-ended skrewt instead…"

"I won't even ask," commented Snape dryly.

"But eventually," continued Harry, speaking louder to drown out Snape, "the meaning changed because Neville changed. Now, to 'Longbottom' means to do something insanely brave, like to tell Hermione that you truly believe that house elves enjoy lives of servitude…"

"Someday you can explain what that means," said Severus, standing up as Madam Pomfrey came back into the room.

"We're expecting the specialist from St. Mungo's any minute now."

"From Pediatrics?" asked Harry.

"Yes, from Pediatrics, Harry," said Poppy with a certain amount of fond disapproval. "And stop trying to rile up Severus. I know you're bored but if you can't behave yourself for a few more hours I'm mixing Dreamless Sleep in your pumpkin juice."

"You wouldn't!" mock-protested Harry. "It would be…well…medically unethical!"

"What would be unethical?" asked Stuart, entering the infirmary with the Pediatric healer just as Harry spoke. He looked from Severus to Poppy to Harry.

"Me spiking Harry's pumpkin juice with Dreamless Sleep potion," answered Poppy. "He's getting bored and there's nothing worse than a bored Auror."

Stuart laughed and shook his head. His companion, a woman of Poppy's age with wild curly gray hair and large owlish glasses, walked forward to greet Poppy and introduce herself to Severus.

"Mr. Snape, I'm Ardelle Youngblood. I'm a specialist in behavioral correction with St. Mungo's pediatric department."

"Behavioral correction?" asked Severus, shaking her hand. "You make it sound like I can consciously control these accidental magical outbursts."

"You can't yet," said Healer Youngblood, "because you don't know how. My job is to teach you how to manage these outbursts while you regain control of your magic." She looked Severus over up and down. "And you have a decided advantage over most of my patients…you have a wand, do you not?"

"I had one," shot back Severus. "But it was removed from my possession yesterday." He glanced over at Harry. "By Mrs. Granger-Weasley, that is. I think she thought I was a menace with it."

Healer Youngblood laughed, a deep, genuine laugh, the kind that was so infectious that even Harry, who had been on the receiving end of that "menace," smiled.

"I have his wand," put in Poppy. "It's in my desk. Do you need it now?"

"Please, Poppy," said the Healer. "We'll need it a bit."

"This might be a good time to put a shield up between me and Severus," said Harry, pulling the covers over his head and sinking down into his mattress.

Healer Youngblood shot him an amused look, which of course Harry could not see. She shrugged and faced Severus again.

"I've been told you have no memory of your magical life. However, at one time, you learned and used a great many spells. You may have forgotten the incantations and wand motions for these spells but they remain imprinted on your magic. In short, you haven't lost the ability to perform those spells—you've simply forgotten the words and motions."

"How is that different than forgetting the spells?" asked Severus, eying the dark wand Poppy was holding. She'd just come back into the room and stood against the door near her office.

"Someone who never learned the 'Incendio' charm, for example, would have to memorize the incantation and the wand motion. But knowing the incantation and the wand motion does not mean one can perform the spell. Children must practice the spell, concentrating on the intent—to set something on fire—and the object itself."

"You teach children to set things on fire?" asked Severus, eyes raised in alarm, doubtlessly thinking of his own daughter who was poised to begin her magical education.

"Oh. Perhaps that was a poor example," backtracked Healer Youngblood. "But surely you understand. While a child would actually have to learn all the elements of the spell, you, Mr. Snape, will only need to learn the words and wand motion, at least for spells you learned in the past."

"Will they all be as powerful as the Lumos that hit me yesterday?" asked Harry. He'd given up on his pretense of hiding beneath the covers.

"At first—very likely," replied the healer. "If he were a child, we would teach him to control his emotions to suppress the accidental magic. However, Severus' problem is not likely caused by emotional immaturity…" She looked sharply toward Harry as he suppressed a snort. "No, I believe that the use of his wand yesterday has unleashed some of this imprinted magic."

"Do you have a recommendation, then?" asked Poppy, bopping Harry a bit more than playfully on the head with Severus' wand then sitting down next to him on his bed.

"Hey!" protested Harry. "What was that for?"

"Are you 11 or 38?" she muttered.

"I do," answered Healer Youngblood. "Mr. Snape needs to unleash as much magic as possible, using his wand. I suggest supervised and direct practice on safe targets—out of doors. Perhaps one of you could take him out to the lakeside. Choose only two or three safe spells today, and have him direct them out over the water. Continue as long as Mr. Snape's energy lasts. At some point today, providing he has normal or higher energy levels, the spells should return to what we would consider 'normal' intensity."

"He can practice 'Lumos' on me," suggested Harry. "Can't hurt—I'm already blind."

"Stop it," said Poppy, rapping him on the head one more time. "And remind me to send you to St. Mungo's next time you're injured."

"Actually," said the Healer, shaking her head in amusement as she watched Poppy and Harry bicker, "I'd suggest a basic levitation spell first. Have Mr. Snape levitate rocks and sticks and such over the water. You can follow that with Evanesco—be sure to vanish only objects found on the ground around the lake. I wouldn't suggest an Accio yet…" Here Healer Youngblood laughed with unconcealed amusement. "You wouldn't want any merpeople or the Giant Squid to come sailing out of the lake now, would you?"

"Merpeople? You can't be seri… You are serious." Snape dropped his head into his hands, assuming a position that was becoming more and more common for him as his newfound life in the magical world progressed.

"Why don't I call in Hermione?" asked Poppy. "I'll need to stay here to make sure Mr. Potter behaves himself but Hermione can take Severus outside and they can have a go at unleashing that magical energy."

"I'd like to schedule the first memory restoration session later this afternoon," put in Stuart. "It that one goes well, we can have another in the morning and ramp up the schedule after that."

"Providing I don't go mad," said Severus.

"Providing all goes well," clarified Stuart. "You won't go mad, Severus. You may be disturbed—by either the content of the memory or how having those lost memories restored makes you feel."

"How will you choose which memory to restore first?" asked Harry. He well remembered this particular set of memories and not all of them were fun and games.

"Actually, Mr. Potter, I was hoping you would help choose. You've seen them all?"

"Yes, but it's been a long time. Remember I buried the vial with Severus' coffin."

"Still, I'd wager that you remember them pretty vividly…"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I do." Severus stared at him keenly. There was a larger mystery here, behind this young man with his family tragedy and temporary blindness.

"Well then, I'd say you should choose the memory we start with. I'd recommend something with strong emotional context."

Harry remained silent. It had been years—more than 20—since he'd viewed the memories. Even after all that time, the vivid pictures still played in his head, of his mother swinging while a child Snape spied on her, of Snape and Dumbledore on the windy clearing, of the two in the Headmaster's office, arguing over whether Harry was a pig for the slaughter, of the broken man who crawled to Dumbledore after Lily's death.

"These memories aren't exactly pleasant," said Harry at last. "Though most do have strong emotional context." He stopped and considered again. "Too strong, perhaps…"

"Yet they're all we have to work with. Pleasant or not, they will have to do."

With that pronouncement, Stuart left the others to deal with Severus' "purge" as Healer Youngblood now called it and arranged to return at 3 p.m. for the first memory restoration session. Poppy and Healer Youngblood went back to her office to summon Hermione and discuss with her the proscribed treatment and Severus and Harry were once again left alone in the cavernous infirmary.

"Not exactly pleasant?" asked Severus. Finally afforded some privacy, he was dressing for the day. He picked up his shoes and moved over to the bed opposite Harry, sitting down on it and waiting for an answer.

"You gave me the memories as you lay dying," explained Harry. "You had information I needed to end the war…." He trailed off but Severus kept his gaze on him.

"You needed to end the war? How old were you? Seventeen?"

"Almost eighteen," answered Harry. "Look, none of this will make any sense to you until you get your memory back. Suffice it to say that you and I have a history and it's…well, it's complicated. It turned out that we were both pretty pivotal in ending the war." He paused again. "Why don't we just agree to sit down and work this out after you get your magic under control and your memory back?"

Severus eyed the man before him. Harry was one person in the magical world that confounded him. He had an aura of power yet seemed strangely vulnerable. He seemed gentle with his children, open with his friends yet secretive about his past.

"Agreed," said Severus, holding out his hand to Harry to shake on it, then shaking his head and retracting it, remembering that Harry couldn't see his offer of peace.

Not quite an hour later, Hermione Granger-Weasley and Severus Snape stood on the banks of the Hogwarts Lake, facing the shore near the Hogsmeade Station where the boats launched every September 1st with their first-year passengers. Snape had scoffed at what he called the "Mangled Latin" of the Wingardium Leviosa spell, but he had committed both the words and the wand motion to memory. Hermione had made him practice with a stick, keeping his wand well out of sight until it was time to begin.

"I'm ready," said Severus, frustrated, after practicing the wand motion a dozen times with the old stick.

"OK, then," agreed Hermione, carefully handing Severus his wand after removing it from her robe pocket. "On that rock there next to the stump."

Severus, eager to get this exercise started and on its way, pointed his wand directly at the rock, uttered the incantation and performed the "swish and flick" motion Hermione had taught him. The rock immediately shot up into the air ten meters or more then crashed back down near their feet as Severus lost concentration and stepped back in surprise. His wand hand was tingling. He transferred his wand to his left hand and shook out his right one.

They both stared at the rock for a moment.

"Does everyone start with rocks?" asked Severus, pushing the grapefruit-sized rock forward with his foot.

"First years typically practice on feathers because they're light and easier to control," answered Hermione.

"They also do less damage falling down from ten meters up," commented Severus.

Hermione deftly transfigured the rock into a long white feather and handed it to Severus.

"Feathers it is, then," she said.

Two hours later, Severus had levitated a series of feathers, branches, rocks, shells, dirt clods and leaf clumps as well as a dead starling, a live squirrel, a soggy piece of parchment and a very surprised frog. Hermione then taught him the vanishing spell, and he managed to vanish all of the items he'd first levitated as well as a few he had not—like the little dinghy Hagrid kept tied up at the shore and a patch of wild thistle but not the bees hovering around it.

"Where do they go?" he asked Hermione as they trudged back up to the castle after starting all over with levitating (this time working on larger items like tree limbs and boulders). He was exhausted. By the end of the session, the objects lifted with ease but without the unbridled enthusiasm of the objects in his earliest efforts. While he didn't feel that he was exerting a tremendous effort as he worked with the wand, he nonetheless felt drained after spending the morning—all of the morning—doing spells.

"The objects you vanished?" answered Hermione. "No one knows. It's almost as if they go to an in-between place of some sort, because they always come back when you do the counter spell.

"You don't teach that spell to children, do you?" he asked suddenly.

"In a co-ed boarding school? Are you kidding?" Hermione laughed. "We'd have hundreds of naked students running for cover all the time! You might want to look at the Charms textbooks—the spells are apportioned out by year and approved by the Board of Governors." She paused and considered. "Of course, they haven't changed at all since I was a student here…"

"The charms or the Board of Governors?" asked Severus.

Hermione smiled. "Neither, I'd say. Oh, we've had a few replacements on the Board over the years, but by and large it's led by the pillars of the wizarding community. They tend to be very old and very rich."

They walked together amicably, Severus gazing about the grounds and taking time to study the castle from the outside. Day two and he'd yet to have more than vague feelings of familiarity—such as when he saw Harry for the first time, or when he'd first held his wand. When actually using the wand this morning, he hadn't felt at all like he'd done the spells before. He had felt a curious connection, a rightness, something that was difficult to pin down. It was as if a part of him that had been dormant had awakened. He felt surges of power, the tingling in his fingers. He knew he should have felt a sense of wrongness as the boulder rose in the air or the little wooden dinghy disappeared, but instead of wrongness he'd felt a nascent peace, as if it were completely natural and utterly expected for a rock the size of a football to fly ten meters up in the air, hover a bit, then slowly sink back to the ground.

He had felt alive when he used his wand.

Powerful.

He fingered it now, in the pocket of his pants. The grooves and ridges where his hand had molded it over the years felt as natural to him as the ridged scars on his neck. How many times had he run his fingers over those scars these past twenty years, wondering how he had come to have them? He could feel the contours in his mind. His wand was oddly similar. He knew exactly how to hold it, exactly where to rest his thumb, just how to place his ring finger and his pinkie, tucked in at the base of the handle, nestled against his thumb.

As Hermione and Severus walked into the entry hall, Severus once again turned toward the dungeon stairs. Hermione called to him to follow her up to the infirmary where Healer Youngblood waited to assess his magic levels.

"What's down there again?" he asked as he followed her up the stairs, his eyes straying back over to the wide stone staircase that led downward.

"The dungeons—your quarters were down there, as well as the Potions classroom," answered Hermione. "And the Slytherin dormitories. Until you were Headmaster, you spent most of your time below ground."

Muscle memory. His body was accustomed to a certain pattern and he followed it now, with the change in direction toward the dungeon stairs, with how he held the familiar wand that by all rights should feel foreign. Even the wand movements, when demonstrated once by Hermione, were easily repeated and committed to memory, to new memory.

Poppy had just set up Harry's lunch tray when they arrived at the infirmary, so Hermione sat down to help him while Healer Youngblood settled Severus on a bed and performed a series of tests including a balance test that required him to stand on one leg while attempting to brush his teeth and a standard memory test similar to the ones given to early-stage dementia patients.

"I'm sorry but I don't know who the current Minister of Magic is," he protested quite Snapishly. "And my clock face is perfectly fine. I have two hands on my clock, not one, and they point to the time, not to locations."

Harry and Hermione hid their grins as Snape, after seeing the 18th century style "blood letting" implement, refused to submit to a blood screening.

The Healer left after prescribing three supervised one-hour sessions of simple but safe spells daily for the next week to channel Severus' excess magic reserves and to provide an outlet so that emotional outbursts and random sneezes weren't accompanied by accidental magic. He was also given a children's "Accidental Magic" journal with a special self-inking quill. The journal had sturdy binding, pages with wide lines and was password protected. The cover was weather-proof and featured a 3-D depiction of a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon.

"Oh joy," said Severus, examining the journal after Healer Youngblood left then tossing it onto the bedside table. The dragon on the front let out a defiant roar and smoke and sparks shot out, igniting a box of facial tissues.

"Aguamenti," muttered Severus as he pointed his wand at the small blaze.

A strong jet of clear water erupted from the end of Severus' wand and extinguished the flames.

Severus dropped his arm but retained his grip on his wand. The water shot all over his shoes.

"How do you turn this thing off?" he exclaimed, whirling around to face Harry and Hermione and hitting them both in the face with a burst of water. "Nox! Nox!" he shouted as they sputtered and Hermione lunged forward to help.

"Finite!" she yelled as the room went dark. "Nox is only for lights!"

"Finite!" shouted Severus at the wand. The water stopped and Severus dropped the wand. All was silent as it clattered on the wooden floor then rolled to a stop.

"That thing is dangerous," said Severus, pushing it further away with the toe of his shoe.

"I'm getting a hotel room," muttered Harry as he wiped his face with a wet corner of his shirt.

Hermione bent to pick up the wand and used it to relight the oil lamps. She didn't return it to Severus.

"I didn't teach you that spell," she said, her voice strangely quiet and calm.

The room was very, very quiet.

"What did I say?" asked Severus, staring now at the soggy box of tissues next to the impossibly dry child's journal on his bedside table.

"Aguamenti," said Harry. He pushed wet hair off his face and sputtered dramatically.

"It's a spell to conjure water," said Hermione. "Your wand was already in your hand when you said it. You…you said it without even thinking about it."

"I don't even recall saying it," said Severus, his voice shaky. He was still looking suspiciously at his wand on the floor.

"It probably has something to do with our practice earlier," said Hermione. She had walked over near Severus and now stooped to pick up his wand. "And that you had your wand in your hand when the book caught on fire. Reflexive action." She studied the wand in her hand a moment. "This is good, right?" asked Severus. "That I used a spell?"

"I think so," answered Hermione. "I think it's rather like you heading for the dungeon stairs whenever you enter the castle—reflexive actions…"

"Hermione…" said Harry, feeling around on the wet bed."

"But this time you paired an action with the appropriate incantation…"

"Can you help me find my wand?" Harry was now on his hands and knees in front of his bed, groping around on the floor beneath it.

"…and achieved the desired result. Honestly, I'm going to have to write a paper on this. I wonder if Stuart…"

"Accio Harry Potter's wand," said Harry when it became apparent that Hermione wasn't listening to him. Hermione stopped speaking and turned toward him as the wand zoomed out from where it had rolled under the bed and into his outstretched hand.

"Ahh. That's better. 'Siccus.'" He pointed his wand at the general direction of the bed. The bed clothing and floor dried and the water in the cup and in the vase of flowers on his bedside table vanished as well. He then turned the wand on himself.

"Harry, no!" exclaimed Hermione. "You can't see where you're pointing! You could dry up all the moisture in your eyes and in your sinuses!" She grabbed the wand out of his hand. "Here, let me." She passed her wand over his hair and it dried immediately.

Severus snorted.

"Maybe you should conjure him up a comb and brush next. He looks like he's had a severe electric shock."

Harry rolled his eyes, but the gesture was entirely lost on his audience, as his eyes were still bandaged.

"I'm giving both of these wands to Poppy," said Hermione. "I don't trust either one of you with them right now. Then I'm going to pop over and check up on Ron and Neville and the kids."

"You might want to make sure they haven't been using magic," suggested Severus as he settled on his bed. "I have nosey neighbors. Old Miss Hawthorne in the house just east of mine is particularly fond of spying out her kitchen window at me."

"Oh, no worries about that. They'll have put up privacy wards or Muggle repelling charms," answered Hermione.

"Muggle repelling charms?" echoed Severus.

"They're quite common," said Hermione. "Along with compulsion charms, they're very effective at maintaining the statute of secrecy. For example, when Muggles look at Hogwarts, they see only a dangerous looking ruin and suddenly remember a very important appointment."

"Which one do you suppose Ron used on Severus' house, Hermione?" asked Harry. He, too, had settled himself in bed, leaning back on no fewer than five plumped up pillows. "The one where Muggles avoid the house because they see police tape around the whole property and smell something horrible?"

"Don't listen to him, Severus," said Hermione as Severus began to look quite worried. "I'm sure all they needed are privacy wards. Besides, the children aren't allowed to use magic outside of school so it would just be Ron or Neville, and they're really quite careful."

Poppy chose that moment to bustle into the room. "Oh, you've finished lunch, Harry. Good." She glanced over at Severus, then at Hermione and the two wands she was still holding. Her face fell in exasperation. "Have you had to disarm our patients, Hermione? Again?"

"They haven't been attacking each other…yet," commented Hermione as she handed the wands to the mediwitch. "However, Severus managed an Aguamenti on his own—not one I taught him—and Harry nearly desiccated his eyeballs."

"I did NOT nearly desiccate my eyeballs!" protested Harry. "I was just going to perform a drying spell on myself after Severus blasted me with that fire hose of his!"

"He did manage quite an impressive amount of water with his spell," explained Hermione. She looked at Harry and then exchanged a look with Poppy. "When are those bandages coming off?"

"Suppertime," answered Poppy. "Perhaps Harry would enjoy reading? I can get the self-reading edition of the Prophet."

"I'm right here, you know," said Harry, waving at her from across the room. "And yes, reading would be great. But can't you enchant a book to read itself to me instead? Or give me back my wand and I'll do it myself."

"Do you people always resort to magic?" asked Severus. "I'm here and I have a perfectly adequate reading voice. I'd like some lunch first, and then I will read to Harry until it's time for my afternoon session with Stuart."

"OK then…" said Hermione, shooting a glance over at Harry who was opening and closing his mouth rather like a carp. "I'll be on my way. I'll be sure to check up on old Miss….Hawthorne, did you say?"

Severus nodded. "Thank you." He turned his attention to Harry. "Is there a book you'd prefer? Or should I meander down to the library and pick something out?"

"Oh, the library, definitely," answered Harry.

"There's an excellent section of books on magical places right behind Madam Pince's desk," said Poppy. "Rather like a wizarding travel archive. Magical creatures are…"

"I'll be fine," commented Severus. "I rather enjoy libraries and am familiar with all standard cataloging systems. I am sure I can find something appropriate to relieve Mr. Potter's boredom. Now," he looked up at Madam Pomfrey, and was surprised to find her looking amused rather than chagrinned, "if you could point me to the library?"

"Of course, Severus." She walked with him out to the hallway, her voice trailing behind her. "I'll have lunch waiting when you return."

Hermione turned to Harry once they were alone in the room.

"I wish I could stay to see what he comes back with," she said. "You'll have to tell me all about it later. I'd better run, now."

It was after 1:30 when Severus finally finished his lunch and settled beside Harry's bed where Poppy had transfigured a solid but rigid straight-backed chair into a green velvet recliner. He'd enjoyed a well-cooked and presented lunch, though again rather heavy in meat and carbohydrates for his liking, while Harry passed the time playing with a little winged golden ball which zipped around the room and annoyed Severus much as a housefly would. Harry, however, seemed to have keen hearing to make up for his less-than-keen sight, and grabbed the ball out of the air nearly every time it was within reach. Severus could not help but watch him as he chewed, washing down bites of meat and potatoes with swallows of some odd concoction they called "pumpkin juice." He couldn't imagine it was really pumpkin juice—indeed, it looked like a mixture of orange and mango and had a more fruity taste than an earthy one—but if magical children liked to think they were drinking pumpkins, so be it. Harry's hand would dart out and grab the ball—he called it a "snitch" and claimed it was central to the wizarding sport of "Quidditch"—much like a frog's tongue nabbing a fly in flight.

Now, settled in the remarkably comfortable green velvet recliner, Severus fingered the book he had chosen from the library.

"Of course the books weren't organized in any system I could decipher," began Severus. "And I couldn't find anything resembling a card catalog, much less a computer…so in exasperation I said 'Where are the books about Harry Potter?' and a house elf popped right in and took me to an entire section devoted to the Boy Who Lived."

"Section?" repeated Harry. If Severus had to guess what Harry's face showed, using only his mouth, nose and cheeks for reference, he'd have had to say 'surprised.'

"Yes, section. You haven't visited it? I found a number of interesting tomes, including a really very lovely one written for children by Mrs. Granger-Weasley and another one called 'Out of the Closet' which was also written for children. That one startled me a bit until I paged through it and realized it literally meant 'out of the closet.' We'll have to talk about that one later, Mr. Potter."

"Or not," said Harry, looking as trapped as he felt.

"However, the one I chose is actually one you helped write."

"I've only ever…" started Harry, stopping as Severus' voice cut in, reading from the book he now knew rested in the former Headmaster's hands.

"Hogwarts, a History," began Severus, "Revised 2001. I think I'll go ahead and start with the last chapter then?"

"I'm not sure that you should," said Harry. "It might be a bit much…might affect your recovery and all. Isn't Stuart going to be here soon?"

"We have more than an hour," said Severus. "And no, I doubt that reading a chapter about myself written by you is going to somehow jeopardize my recovery."

Harry shifted in the bed.

"I had help with that, just so you know. I'm not a great writer. Hermione tidied up the spelling and grammar, and helped with all the fact-checking…"

"Duly noted," said Severus. He made a show of ruffling the pages a bit then began. "Chapter 122. The Bravest Man I Ever Knew. The first time I laid eyes on Severus Snape, I was 11 years old, a newly sorted Gryffindor first year, and was sitting in the Great Hall of Hogwarts after discovering I was a wizard only a month before. The last time I laid eyes on Severus Snape, I was a hundred years older, though not quite 18. As his life bled out before me, on the floor of the Shrieking Shack outside Hogsmeade, he held me with his eyes. 'Look at me,' he commanded. His last words. But who was he really seeing when he looked into my eyes?"

Harry gave up and listened to the story. He always thought his words had been heart-felt, if not profound. Hermione told him the most important thing was to be honest. She'd written the chapter on the Battle of Hogwarts, sticking to a more historical perspective, but the editors had requested something personal from Harry. They'd asked him to relate his perspective on what happened on the Astronomy Tower the day Dumbledore died, or a personal account of the final stand-off in the Great Hall, but he had instead chosen to honor Severus Snape and the editors, happy with anything from the Boy Who Lived…and Who Lived Again…accepted.

Snape's voice faltered sometimes, and once or twice he stopped altogether until Harry said "Go on" in a quiet sort of voice. It took nearly an hour to get through the chapter—after all, Harry's memoire included some biographical information about Severus, gathered mainly by Hermione's methodical research, as well as selected commentaries about Severus from those who knew him—members of the Order of the Phoenix, his Slytherin students, the European Potions Guild, his colleagues at Hogwarts.

"You think the lecture he gave his students on the first day of class was tough? All that talk about brewing fame and stoppering death? You should have heard him back in the common room after the welcoming feast, when he'd sit the new first years down and address them. He made all of us gather around while he talked to the firsties. They'd sit in a circle on the floor of the common room and Snape would sit down on the floor there with them—legs crossed—and he'd lay it out. What is means to be Slytherin. To have all the courage of a Gryffindor, all the brains of a Ravenclaw, all the loyalty of a Hufflepuff and the ambition to use all of it to improve yourself and make a mark on the world."

Severus looked up at Harry as he finished reading the quote. "Who is this? This Draco Malfoy?" he asked.

"Do you have any easy questions?" asked Harry in reply.

"I should think that one is easy enough. You know him?"

"I know him. He was in my year at Hogwarts. We have a …" he paused, considering.

"It's complicated, right?" asked Severus.

"Yes. Very complicated. You had a certain … history with the Malfoy family."

"Hmph." Harry could hear the book close and the recliner squeak as Severus lowered the footrest and leaned forward in the chair, preparing to stand.

"What's it like?" asked Harry. "Reading about yourself, I mean?"

"It has yet to sink in," answered Snape. "It's like reading about someone you don't know, discovering their personality through another's eyes. It is…disconcerting, at best. Disturbing at worst. It seems I was a very complex man. Complex and…unhappy."

Harry nodded his understanding, and agreement. Severus rose and looked at the chair.

"What do I do about this chair?" he asked, gazing at the large chair looking quite out of place amid the start hospital furniture.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Harry.

"Wrong with it?" answered Severus. "It's a green velvet recliner, that's what's wrong with it. It used to be a straight wooden visitor's chair."

"Leave it," laughed Harry. "Poppy will take care of it when she comes back. Unless…."

"Unless what?" asked Severus.

"Well, you used to be a whiz at wandless magic. You might be able to cancel the transfiguration spell without your wand."

Severus eyed Harry speculatively.

"And you can't?" he asked, watching for Harry's reaction carefully.

Harry shrugged. "Between you and me and the lamppost, Severus, there aren't a lot of wizards in the world who have that kind of power. What's that saying about power? Power corrupts and absolute power…"

"Corrupts absolutely. Understood. Still, why would it be acceptable for me to be seen doing wandless magic, but not you?"

"Because yours can be explained by the build-up of your magic over the past twenty years. Remember—all accidental magic is in essence wandless magic—undirected and unintentional as it is. Mine, on the other hand, would likely be seen as a show of power. An unnecessary show of power, that is."

Severus remained silent a long moment, looking at Harry and then at the chair.

"Fine," he said at last. "What is the incantation? To cancel the spell?"

"You're actually looking for the counter-spell," said Harry. "Some spells can be cancelled with a "finite incantatem"—like the Aguamenti spell you cast a while ago. But when you transfigure something, to return it to its original form you need another spell—if you can't just wait it out and eventually the item will pop back by itself."

"How long does that take?" asked Severus. To his eyes, the green velvet recliner still looked very much like a recliner and not at all like a straight-back chair.

"It depends," answered Harry. He smiled. "The more experienced the wizard or witch, the more purpose or intent behind the spell, the longer it will last. That chair could stay just exactly like it is now for months. The first thing I successfully transfigured—a match into a needle—didn't even stay a needle until the end of the class period." He grinned. "In fact, it never looked much like a needle to begin with—more like a silver matchstick, really, with a funny hole in it."

Severus stared at Harry a moment longer.

"Just give me an incantation," he said.

"Try 'Reverto'," answered Harry. "Say it while focusing on the recliner and willing it to change back into the original wooden chair."

Severus nodded, then remembered Harry's condition and said "OK." He stared at the recliner, then, remembering the original wooden chair with its straight lines and hard angles, trying to focus his mind on the large and comfortable green recliner reverting to its original state, he spoke aloud, very clearly.

"Reverto."

"Whoa!" exclaimed Harry. Severus barely managed to remain upright against the sudden gale that pushed back from the chair which inexplicably was now a small pile of lumber on the floor.

"Oh my," said Severus.

"What happened?" asked Harry, righting himself to sit on the edge of the bed and feeling around on the floor with his right foot, then kicking out his leg, trying to make contact with the chair.

"Well, I think I destroyed it," answered Severus. "Perhaps I put too much intent in the spell."

"Is there anything there at all? Did it just disappear?"

"Yes. I mean yes, there is something there. A small pile of unfinished lumber."

"Lumber? You mean boards and such?"

"Yes, of course I mean boards and such! What else could I have meant by lumber? An unsteady gait?"

"Wait, Severus. Calm down. I think I know what happened. I think you did put a bit too much intent in the spell. When you tried to revert the chair back to its original form, you took it back an extra step or two—to before it was a chair, in fact." Harry waved his hand in the general direction of the pile of wood.

"Sella durateus," he murmured. Severus watched in amazement as the lumber instantly reformed itself into a very serviceable chair, similar to the others in the room but strangely, a bit more ornate and regal. He didn't have a chance to comment further as the door to Poppy's office opened and both Poppy and Stuart appeared. Poppy was caring the Pensieve they had used the previous day and Stuart the small bottle of memories.

"Hello, hello," said Stuart, glancing from Snape to Harry, then at the chair between them that seemed to have Snape's attention. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, no, not at all," answered Severus, turning to greet the healers.

Poppy placed the Pensieve on a bedside table and Stuart uncorked the bottle and let the memories slip into the wide stone basin.

"Harry, have you selected a memory to start with?" asked Stuart, using the tip of his wand to stir the gaseous almost-liquid in the bowl. Severus walked over to watch the faces form and unform in the basin.

"There are a few of Severus and my mum, even before they came to Hogwarts, and several of them here at Hogwarts as students as well…"

"That might be a good place to start then," said Stuart. "At the beginning…"

"But," interrupted Harry. "I've been thinking about it, and I think we should start with something bigger. None of the memories is exactly pleasant, so why don't we just get to the crux of the matter right away? Severus has already read my chapter in Hogwarts; he knows what he did—while he was Headmaster and before…"

"Knowing is not the same as experiencing it," said Poppy. "Returning a memory of such intensity could damage…"

"Do it," said Severus bluntly. "Let's not beat around the bush. I was a spy and apparently a 'greasy git' too…"

"I knew I shouldn't have let Ron contribute to that chapter…" sighed Harry.

"No, I'm serious," continued Severus. "Pick a difficult memory and let's see what happens."

"You'll be looking for the one when Dumbledore returns to the castle with his injured hand, Poppy," said Harry. "Severus slowed the curse down. There's a fairly long memory in there of what happened, what was said between them. I want the whole day—it may be broken up into more than one strand."

Poppy had taken over moving the memory strands around in the Pensieve with her wand while Stuart settled Severus on his bed. She stared at the moving images, a wistful look in her eye as she watched the echo of the great Headmaster Dumbledore interact with Severus Snape.

"I've got it," she said at last, extracting a single long gossamer strand. It clung to the end of her wand and she held it aloft over the bowl, glancing at Stuart.

Stuart approached her and easily transferred the memory from her wand to his. The strand seemed to have a certain life of its own, behaving as if it was prone to static electricity.

"This will not hurt," said Stuart as he stood next to Severus' bedside. "Once I return the memory, however, it will seek to reposition itself in your mind. Current theory has it that the memory will try to find connections—links. If it is successful, an entire chapter of your life may fall into place at once. If it is not, it may behave like a persistent tune that you cannot 'get out of your head.' If that be the case, you may want to remove the memory and try that one later when more connections to the events and emotions in the memory are already present."

"Are there any other potential consequences are effects?" asked Severus, his eyes following the dancing strand on the end of Stuart's light ash wand.

"It may have no affect at all," answered Stuart. "It may return to your mind, but be inaccessible, perhaps forever, perhaps until another memory makes a connection with it. You, of all people, will understand how imprecise memory science is."

"I understand the science behind memories," retorted Severus. "But I don't understand the magic behind them. But as a scientist—I want to. Do it."

Everyone has regrets in their lives and Harry Potter had his fair share. He regretted that he had not been able to prevent Dobby's death, that he'd forced the Headmaster to drink the awful potion in the cave when he'd gone with him to hunt the Horcrux, that he'd been away on assignment when James had taken his first steps . But all his life, from that day forward, he regretted that his eyes had been bandaged shut when Stuart Bell held the memory to Snape's temple and watched it pull itself in with what Poppy later described as "suction like a calf at its mother's teat."

He was in the room, but not a participant. Poppy's eyes, she later said, were fixed on Severus' face as his eyes, the eyes of an outside observer, flashed pain and defiance, then desperation and resignation.

Harry Potter did not get so see Severus Snape's head snap around to the corners of the room as if looking for ghosts of the past. He did not see Severus' hands come up to his head and grasp it as his elbows slid down to rest beside his thighs on his bed. Poppy said Severus remained in that position for some time. Neither Poppy nor Stuart said a word and Harry, feeling the pain in the air, remained silent as well.

Finally, after many minutes of silence had passed, Severus had lifted his head and stared past Poppy, past Stuart, over at Harry Potter. He looked as if he was seeing the man for the first time, at least the first time in many years. Disbelief and relief seemed to war with each other in his depthless eyes as he looked at a Harry Potter who had obviously lived many, many years since the war should have claimed him. When he spoke, Harry knew it had worked.

"How did you do it?" breathed Severus. "How did you get rid of the bastard…and live?"

Harry had chosen the memory well. A complex memory of Headmaster Dumbledore telling Severus that he, Severus, must be the one to kill him, of the discussion later that evening that revealed that Harry himself was a Horcrux and must sacrifice himself to destroy the Dark Lord. That memory, connected to the reality before his eyes of a very-much-alive Harry Potter, created a spider web of connections, a thousand and one questions, a hundred and one possibilities.

"What is your birthday, Severus?" asked Poppy, stepping in closer to his bedside, blocking his view of Harry.

"January 9th, 1960," stated Severus, staring at her face as if seeing the lines and wrinkles for the first time.

"And who was Minister of Magic when you were Headmaster here?" she continued.

"Pius Thicknesse, complete barbarian," answered Severus.

"What do you do for a living now?" asked Stuart, stepping up to stand closer to his bed.

"I'm a research scientist specializing in memory and dementia."

"What is your daughter's name, Severus?" he continued.

"Anna." Both Stuart and Poppy looked immensely relieved at this answer.

"And she's off with Weasley! And Longbottom! What was I thinking? Shouldn't they be back by now?"

Harry chuckled. "I'd call this a success," he said. "Not only has he made obvious connections, but he remembers he shouldn't trust Ron and Neville with children."

"Severus, what was your mother's name?" persisted Poppy.

Severus paused. "I…I don't remember," he said.

"You cannot possibly regain all of your memories by restoring just one pivotal memory," said Stuart. "The treatment will take some time."

"Good," said Severus, looking over at Harry again. "Then I will have plenty of time to get reacquainted with Mr. Potter. Surely, Poppy, you can take those bandages off now."

Poppy sighed, resigned, checked the clock then walked over to Harry's bed.

"Fine. Off they come. Harry, keep your eyes closed until I ask you to open them. Do so slowly when I give the word."

She removed the masklike bandages and used her wand to cancel the sticking charm which kept his eyes closed beneath the bandages. He blinked slowly when she asked him to do so and remained still while she examined his eyes with her wand.

"Excellent." She handed him his glasses, which he put on as he got to his feet and approached Snape's bed. The two men regarded each other a moment, Severus' eyes drawn to Harry's own. For a moment, it seemed that Severus had made another connection, looking into Harry's eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak.

"Papa!" The door to the infirmary had opened, and a small crowd had pushed its way inside. Several adults, a half-dozen or more children, the Headmistress and a giant-sized man intruded on the relative peace and quiet of the hospital wing. Severus broke eye contact with Harry to turn toward his daughter, breaking whatever spell had been there as Anna ran over to his bed, holding out a swollen finger. "Papa! I got bitten by a garden gnome!"

She looked delighted.

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.

Chapter 8

No one spoke for a moment after Harry finished reading and softly closed the book. Ginny, at his side, drew her knees up closer to her chest and looked pointedly at the closed book in Harry's lap.

"We'll read more a little later, Ginny," Harry said after a moment. "This is my friend Severus. He and his daughter Anna are joining us for dinner today."

Ginny's eyes moved over to Severus as he spoke. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hi," she replied. Her voice was soft and tentative but not childlike at all.

"May I ask you some questions, Ginny?" asked Severus. His voice was calm and friendly, his demeanor professional. Ginny looked momentarily puzzled. She glanced at Harry.

"It's OK," Harry told her, picking up her hand and holding it in his own comfortingly.

"I thought we could talk about your family," said Severus smoothly. "I've just met them for the first time today."

"OK," she said, continuing to look at him but not offering anything more.

Severus studiously avoided looking at Harry, focusing instead of the near 40-year-old woman sitting before him.

"Do you have brothers and sisters?" he asked. "There are quite a few people here at the Burrow."

"Brothers," she answered, quite definitively. "I have six brothers." Severus could now hear the slur in her voice, as if her mouth couldn't quite form the words perfectly.

Severus smiled. "Six? That's quite a collection. What are their names?"

Ginny smiled slightly before she answered, but did not appear to hesitate or pause to think. "Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ron," she recited.

Severus reached to his left and plucked a framed photograph from the desk. The photo depicted the Weasley children more than 30 years ago. They were sitting around a picnic table in the backyard, eating ice cream and waving merrily at the camera. Severus scooted his chair forward a bit and held the photograph out so that both he and Ginny could see it.

"Can you show me who is who in this picture?" he asked. He smiled as he pointed to the only girl in the photograph—a red-headed imp of six or seven with pigtails and dirt smudges on her face.

Ginny reached out her hand and brushed her thumb across the girl. "That's me," she offered. "Ginny." She looked expectantly at Severus, waiting for him to continue. He obliged, pointing next to a skinny boy with short hair and horn-rimmed eyeglasses.

"Percy," she supplied. "He's a prat."

Severus raised an eyebrow as Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter.

"Well, he is," she said. "The twins always say so."

Severus pointed next to the largest boy in the picture. He was sitting in the middle of the back bench of the table, separating the twins.

"Bill," said Ginny. "He's got an earring."

Severus looked more closely at the photo. Bill didn't appear to have an earring in the picture, but he didn't call that out. Instead, he pointed to the smallest boy.

"Ron," said Ginny. She brushed her thumb over Ron's smiling freckled face.

"And these?" said Severus, indicating the identical boys on either side of Bill.

"Fred and George, the twins," said Ginny. She moved her finger to the boy on Bill's right who had vanilla ice cream in his hair. "That one's Fred."

Harry, Severus noted, had a pained smile on his face.

"Then who's this last one?" asked Severus, indicating the boy at the end of the table who resembled the twins closely.

"That's Charlie," said Ginny. She studied him more closely. "He works with dragons."

"What does Percy do?" asked Severus, moving his finger back to the only pristinely neat child in the photo. "You said Charlie works with dragons…"

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, a confused look coming over her face. She looked again at Harry, seeking an answer. Harry looked across at Severus.

"Does Percy have a job, Ginny?" persisted Severus.

"He works with Dad," Ginny said at last, after a moment of silent deliberation.

"Where do they work?" asked Severus. Harry realized Severus was really good at this. He really felt that he was inside a polite conversation and not a voyeur on a consultation.

"At the Ministry," Ginny answered, then added, in a smaller voice, "of Magic."

Severus replaced the photo and picked up another. This one was obviously much more recent. The Weasley children—hardly children anymore—were pictured standing together in a line, arms around each other's shoulders. Brooms were piled up at their feet. Every once in a while, a stray child would wander into the photo and then quickly dart out again.

"This one is interesting," said Severus, studying the photo for a moment before turning it to share it with Ginny. "Do you know the people in this photo?"

Ginny's eyes focused on the photo. She looked unsure and, as was her habit, looked to Harry for help. He shrugged, clearly understanding that it wouldn't help things for him to provide assistance. She quickly looked back at Severus and the photo, then reached out her hand and pointed to the only woman in the picture.

"I think that's me," she said, studying the photo closely. Photo Ginny had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing Holyhead Harpies Quidditch Robes. Severus thought the picture could not be more than three or four years old.

"Ahh," he said. "So, you play Quidditch, eh? Who are these others?"

Ginny stared intently at the photo for several moments then finally sighed. "I don't know them," she said. She pointed at the adult Percy in the photo. Like Arthur, Percy was balding and wore glasses. "He looks like Dad."

"He does indeed," commented Severus. He pretended to study the picture with Ginny then said. "I think these are your brothers, Ginny. Which one is Ron?"

Ginny's eyes strayed over to the first photo they had examined, then back to the one Severus held. She moved her hand over the photo, pausing to look intently at each face before finally pointing to Ron. He was standing next to Ginny, at the end of the line, with his broom in one hand and the other hand around her shoulder.

Severus leaned in. "He's the tallest of the lot, isn't he?" he said. "Now which one is Charlie?"

This time, Ginny's finger moved more confidently to Charlie. Charlie still had a full head of hair and looked much the same as he had at Hogwarts.

She identified Percy correctly next, then moved on to choose Bill at Severus' prompt. Her eyes lingered a long time on Bill, glancing over at the younger picture more than once as she studied the more recent photo.

"He's hurt," she said finally, tracing the lines left by Fenrir Greyback on Bill's face.

"Who's this last one?" asked Severus, distracting her from Bill. He really didn't want to have to explain that her brother had been attacked by a werewolf.

Ginny smiled as she looked at the last sibling pictured. "George," she said. "He looks happy."

Harry, Severus noted, was now staring at him, a hundred questions in his eyes. Severus acknowledged him with a small shake of his head and continued working with Ginny. He picked up one more photo from the writing desk. Harry saw the photo he chose and opened his mouth as if to protest. Severus silenced him by speaking first.

"This one is quite nice. It looks like three children about to go on a trip." He looked down at the photo of Harry and Ginny's children. The boys stood on either side of Lily, posed on a train platform with a scarlet engine behind them. Severus' own eyes narrowed as he studied the photo. Of course he recognized the children—he had just seen them again, after all. But something else in the picture struck him and he knew that a buried memory was trying to surface. Now was not the time, however. He willed the burgeoning memory away.

Ginny took the photo when he handed it to her. She held it in her lap and regarded it with apparent interest. This time, she was less tentative.

"That's Harry," she said, pointing to Albus. "I'm in the middle." This time, she pointed to her daughter Lily. She paused when she needed a name for James. "We're with a friend," she said at last, then added "We're on Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross Station and that's the Hogwarts Express." The slur in her voice was more pronounced when she attempted long sentences.

Severus furrowed his brow and looked again at the photo. He was familiar with Kings Cross Station. It was his and Anna's typical departure station when they traveled to Yorkshire or other parts north.

"9 ¾?" he repeated, looking from the photo to Harry. He was convinced he would remember that particular platform number—if it existed. Still, there was something familiar about the number, something that hadn't yet fully connected in his head.

"Students travel to Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express—the train you see there in the background," explained Harry. "They leave from a hidden platform which you access through the barrier between…"

"Platforms 9 and 10, I assume?" asked Severus with a wry smile.

Molly Weasley chose that moment to appear. "We're setting up for dinner now," she said. "Is this a good time for you two to go help with the tables outside?"

"Of course," answered Severus. He stood up and faced Ginny. "It was nice talking with you, Ginny." He nodded his head and waited while Harry kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her hand. They walked silently, side-by-side, from the room then out the front door. Harry was bristling with questions, but the first one he asked, when they were outside watching Ron, Bill and George direct the hoard of children in arranging the tables, surprised Severus greatly.

"You don't remember the Hogwarts Express, do you? You looked absolutely flummoxed when Ginny mentioned Platform 9 ¾."

Severus rolled his eyes. "9 ¾? Really, Harry? Wouldn't 9 ½ be more appropriate for a platform that is between two others? And why would the Wizarding World use Muggle train stations to begin with? I really would like to know who came up with that one."

Harry shrugged, amused. He'd never really given it a second thought, really. He'd first heard about Platform 9 ¾ when he was just 11 years old, and had grown up with it as not only a reality in his life, but the bright spot on the horizon during those interminable summers at the Dursleys.

"Well, we can't expect you to remember everything when you've only got one memory back, right?" Harry glanced up at the commotion before them. Their help apparently wasn't needed. The men had the children doing all of the work, from moving tables to arranging chairs to covering the tables with yellow tablecloths and placing condiments and silverware.

"Quite a production," said Severus. He watched his daughter working with Lily Potter arranging wooden salt and pepper shakers at the ends of each table. Anna certainly stood out in this crowd with her pale skin and dark hair. Even though all of the children wore Muggle type clothing, Anna's stood out in its formality. Still, she looked remarkably comfortable amid the crowd. Severus wondered at that. She'd grown up with no family except for him, no regular contacts except her nanny, the classmates at her private school and one or two elderly neighbors.

"It's always a production here," responded Harry. They watched the proceedings for a moment more before Harry spoke again. "Did you learn anything from your conversation with Ginny?"

Severus watched Bill drop a levitated tablecloth on top of three children, leaving them screeching and scrambling. "I learned quite a lot." He leaned back against the house as Anna and Lily spotted them and made a dash in their direction. "Can you wait until after dinner to discuss my thoughts and answer some more questions? We'll need more time than we have now."

"Of course," said Harry, catching Lily around the waist as she raced up to him. He lifted her up to his shoulder and carried her upside down back into the yard. Anna skidded to a halt in front of Severus and bit her lip, looking wistfully back at her new friend rough-housing with her father. She turned back toward Severus, who sighed dramatically then held out his arms. With a very uncharacteristic squeal of delight, Anna launched herself at her father who hefted her up to his shoulders and followed Harry into the yard.

Dinner with the Weasleys was followed by Quidditch with the Weasleys. Severus wondered how anyone got anything productive done with all the talking, commotion and physical activity. He felt like his head had done nothing but swivel to and fro during dinner, his attention moving from a conversation between Ron and George on the merits of boxer shorts for increased fertility (looking around him, Severus surmised that all the Weasley men wore boxers and not briefs) to an argument among the older children on who would be on which Quidditch team during the after-dinner game (Severus got the idea that they thought he'd be playing and neither side seemed to want him on their team). He was drawn into a conversation with Arthur, who was seated directly across from him, on Muggle technology and spent a good fifteen minutes trying to explain the concept of the internet. After dinner, he had barely bitten into an amazingly good apple tart when the call for Quidditch arose and at least half of the assembled started pushing chairs back and scrambling for their brooms.

Severus had only a very vague familiarity with the game, his memories of his wizarding life only beginning to make gossamer spider web-like connections in the middle of a forty-year period and apparently not yet synced to the sporting side of Wizarding life. Of course, he could well imagine, given his predilections as a Muggle, that sports would not have interested him much, at least not as an adult.

He watched with interest as the teams were chosen. There seemed to be twice as many children as adults in the fray, but they were soon divided up and someone spelled one team's shirts red and the other team's blue. Harry, Ron & Angelina seemed to be teamed up against Teddy, George and Bill. Each of them had a contingent of children, though it appeared the age cut-off was Hogwarts age, as neither Hugo nor Lily were allowed to play and Lily, especially, was in a pout because of it. Someone lugged out a beat-up equipment box and the non-players were forced to pick up their chairs and their unfinished pie and move to the pitch to watch the action.

Not that Severus minded. His brain was working double-time now as he sat with Anna wedged in the vee of his legs, both of their heads tilted back and up. At the same time that one half of his mind protested the impossibility of soaring above the earth on a broom, the other half very easily followed the quaffle and ducked with the players as the bludgers whizzed past. The children were already good flyers, and it was evident the adults had been at it for many years. Severus' eyes were drawn more often to Harry than to any of the others. He flew above the fray looking for the golden snitch, and Severus inexplicably found himself able to explain the game—that part of it, anyway—to his daughter. Bill, the other team's seeker, criss-crossed Harry's path—it was obvious that his strategy was to shadow Harry and hope for better speed in the end. How he could, Severus didn't know. Harry did not look like the sort of player that could ever be caught. It was difficult, indeed, to tell where Harry ended and the broom began.

A cloud passed overhead, darkening the early evening sky only for a moment, but Severus felt a chill roll down his spine. He had a brief flash of a body falling from a broom, but it was soon gone, and he shook his head and pulled his daughter more tightly back against his chest, watching the flyers overhead still securely on their brooms. The desire to soar above the earth welled up in him once again, stronger this time than when he stood on the steps of Hogwarts, but he pushed it down, knowing this was not the time to explore that particular yearning.

"Do you fly?" He turned to face Neville, who was sitting beside him with Frankie on his lap—standing on his lap, that is, pointing at the Quidditch players and jumping up and down. It looked a bit painful.

"Never really developed a taste for it," answered Neville. "I fell off a broom and broke my arm the first week of school first year." He didn't mention riding to London on a thestral, but then again, Severus' question had been rather vague.

"I suppose that would make anyone more cautious," answered Severus. Frankie whooped as Harry went into a dive, catching the snitch a moment later and ending the game.

Game over, the families started packing up to leave. Harry waited until only Ron and Hermione were left before returning to the subject of Ginny. They were all sitting at the kitchen table again while the children pulled out the Weasley's ancient gobstones and taught Anna how to play.

"Severus, you said that you learned quite a lot when you spoke with Ginny earlier," he said. He had the air of someone who was trying very hard to be patient without really succeeding. "Could you elaborate?"

All eyes turned to Severus then, the eyes of the injured woman's parents, brother, husband and friend. This was a group, he thought, that was accustomed to hearing bad news. Not one of them looked overly hopeful.

"From my observations—and please note that I am not a medical doctor—she appears to have a type of frontal lobe injury that prevents new memories from being made or retained. She has also lost access to the more recent memories of her life. However, she shows the capability of using deductive reasoning to make new connections…"

"Why don't you back up and tell everyone how you figured this out," suggested Harry, looking from one confused face to the other.

Severus leaned back in his chair. "My apologies. I forget that you are not familiar with my methodologies. I typically use photographs with patients exhibiting memory loss—patients often are more at ease when they have something other than a doctor or therapist to concentrate on. Photographs are evocative—even if the patient doesn't recognize the people or the places depicted, they can often identify with what is happening in the photo."

He paused for a breath and took a drink of the coffee Molly had served everyone as they gathered at the table.

"He started with the picture of Ginny with all her brothers—the one taken before she and Ron started at Hogwarts," offered Harry.

"I asked her to name her siblings first," said Severus.

"And she named them correctly, in order," said Harry. The others didn't look surprised.

"But presented with the photograph, she correctly identified each person, providing some details that weren't evident in the photo. For example, she supplied that Bill has an earring, that Charlie works with dragons and that Percy is, well," he looked around apologetically, "a prat."

Ron, who was taking a drink of coffee, spluttered and spit. Molly looked at him disapprovingly but Arthur hid a smile behind his hand.

"I then presented Ginny with a photo of herself with her brothers taken only a few years ago," continued Severus. "She identified herself after some scrutiny, but was unable to identify any of the others, though she did point out one brother and say that he looked like 'Dad.' However, when I told her that the photograph was of herself and her brothers, and named each in turn, she was able, with some difficulty, to identify each one. She cross-referenced the original childhood photo several times. Her ability to succeed in this effort shows that there are perfectly functional areas of her brain using deduction, reasoning and other skills."

"What does this mean, Severus?" asked Arthur. "Are you saying that Ginny can be helped?"

"Helped, absolutely. Cured?" He shook his head. "I doubt that she will return to the same woman she was before the accident. However, the brain is a miraculous and mysterious organ. One never knows what is possible."

"What about the last picture?" asked Harry. "She seemed so sure with that one, even though she got it all wrong."

"That was the most telling of all," said Severus. "I showed her a photo of her own children, at King's Cross, getting ready to go to Hogwarts. She immediately identified Albus as Harry and Lily as herself. She was unable to provide a name for James and told me that she and Harry were 'with a friend.' Furthermore, she identified where they were—on platform 9 ¾."

"Al and Lily do look a lot like Harry and Ginny," said Hermione. "That makes sense."

"Her deduction showed a type of problem-solving," Severus stated. "She supplied 'friend' for James, a logical deduction given that they were on their way to school. She clearly remembers the train, and Hogwarts. But she doesn't remember being a wife and mother, or having adult siblings. The brain damage has a temporal nature to it—certain memories are intact, memories or knowledge gained up to a specific time in her life—probably when she was still young, perhaps not even a teenager yet. But it's more than amnesia, as you already know. An amnesiac—such as myself—is able to form new memories. If that were the case, Ginny would be able to learn that she has children, and a husband, and nieces and nephews. She wouldn't be puzzled by the presence of familiar-looking adults and children in the house."

"We try to keep her away from the commotion," admitted Molly. "It upsets her."

"It upsets her because her brain is struggling to make sense of it all," said Severus. "If her memories of adulthood are gone, she may not have the emotional capacity to understand what her mind is showing her."

"That's why we thought she'd do so much better here than at home," said Harry. "She didn't seem to remember anything at home—none of the rooms, or the furniture, and certainly not the children."

"Does she still do magic?" asked Severus.

"Oh, heavens no!" answered Molly. "They told us at St. Mungo's to take her wand…"

"Actually, Severus, she does accidental magic frequently," said Harry. "But yes, I've taken her wand. It's at home, put away until she needs it again."

"She may need it now," said Severus. His mind was a whirl of possibilities as he tried to link everything he knew about the brain from his Muggle career with everything he knew—or remembered, anyway—about magic, which was pitifully little at this early date. Yet he felt, no—he knew—that the key lay somewhere in the middle, that Magic might be the ingredient needed to bridge the separate but functional pieces of a damaged brain. Magic…could it speed up the agonizingly slow neural regeneration process?

He looked up at his dumbfounded audience. Only Hermione looked as if she half-understood.

"Like our experience this morning, Severus?" she asked. "At the lake?"

"Exactly," he answered. "I lived without intentionally using magic for 20 years. I had no memory of magic, or of spells or incantations. Yet when Hermione taught me two spells—and this was before the first memory was restored this afternoon—I was able to perform them with ease. My brain may not have recalled the words or the intent of the spells but the knowledge—the ability—remained. I had learned and used those spells in the past, and that knowledge remained even though I was unable to access it."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not following you, Severus," said Arthur. "Are you saying that doing magic may help Ginny heal somehow?"

Severus paused. Just what was he saying? "Honestly, I don't know," he answered. "However, based on my experiences and my knowledge of brain physiology and chemistry, I think that there is more danger and potential harm in Ginny not doing magic than in her doing it. Persons with brain damage need to utilize their brains in every potential capacity. It is obvious that Ginny is capable of doing magic—she would not be doing accidental magic if she were not. Re-teaching her the incantations for simple, harmless spells may inspire restorative brain activity."

"He's right," put in Hermione. "How about some simple household charms?"

"But the healers…" began Molly.

"The healers were worried that Ginny would be dangerous with her wand," cut in Harry. "They didn't suggest that Ginny re-learn the spells she's already learned. I think what Severus is saying is that the knowledge is already there—even if she can't access it—and learning the words again may open up access to parts of her brain she isn't using right now."

"Parts of her brain that may unlock more recent memories," said Hermione.

"Perhaps," said Severus cautiously. "But that is not a given, nor even a short-term likelihood. The idea is to encourage as much learning and brain activity—on all levels—as possible." He paused and looked across the table to Molly. "Do you do any needlework, Molly? Or gardening?"

Ron laughed. "You must not remember the famous Weasley sweaters."

Molly shot her youngest son a friendly glare. "I knit, Severus. And yes, we keep a garden here too."

"Ginny needs to be involved in normal activities around the home. I would start with cleaning and gardening, then move into cooking and knitting. Did she ever know how to knit?"

Both Ron and Harry choked back laughs.

"What is so amusing?" asked Severus, glaring at the two men.

"Ginny had six older brothers," supplied Arthur. "She was a tomboy through and through—I don't think she ever picked up knitting needles, except perhaps to use in pretend play as a child."

"We used Mum's knitting needles as wands," said Ron, smiling.

"Knitting will require hand/eye coordination as well as fine motor skills," said Severus. "The same can be said of the other activities. However, she needs to be encouraged to learn, not just follow directions. She should learn how to make a certain dish and be responsible for that dish in the future, for example."

Severus sensed a certain reluctance or hesitation in the group around the table. He caught Harry and Hermione exchanging looks. Molly bit her lip and Arthur looked at the table, still gripping his coffee cup. Finally, Harry spoke.

"Listen, Severus, we appreciate your suggestions—really. It's just that we can't see Ginny actually being successful at these things. She's a bit…well…unstable….emotionally. She becomes frustrated incredibly easily, then cries, or gets angry—and that's when the accidental magic happens. It was just too much for the kids to handle so we stopped trying months ago."

Severus sighed. So Wizards and Muggles were not too different in the long run. They all gave up too easily, thinking they were helping the injured party ultimately, or protecting themselves or their loved one. He looked pointedly at Molly and Arthur.

"I understand that it was frightening for the children—too much for them to handle. My question is—is it too much for you?"

Molly looked over at her husband, who had finally released his death grip on his coffee mug.

"Arthur?" she asked, her voice low.

"If Severus believes it will help her…"

"I do, Arthur," answered Severus. "Ultimately it will help, though again, I am not promising a cure or a return to the Ginny you knew previously. And it may very well get worse before it gets better…"

"Molly, Arthur," Harry spoke up. He seemed resigned to another round of effort, and equally sure, Severus thought, that it would fail. "You don't need to try this if it's too upsetting. It certainly isn't what you signed up for when you offered to bring Ginny back here. I can talk to Minerva about finding a different Defense professor and move Ginny back home…"

"No," said Severus. "I recommend that Ginny stay here. She seems to have a certain comfort level here, a familiarity with her childhood home. Your help would be appreciated, Harry, perhaps after school a day or two a week, or on the weekends."

Harry leaned back in his chair, hiding his relief, and Severus launched into his next questions.

"I'd like to read her complete case file, if that is possible. And I must ask—what are you giving her now, in the way of medications?"

"Potions," Harry supplied for Molly, who looked confused.

"Well, a standard calming draught, three times a day," answered Molly. "And a sleeping potion as well. She's a very fitful sleeper since the accident."

"Calming draught?" he questioned, furrowing his eyes. He felt like he should remember that one.

"Like Valium," supplied Hermione.

"She should be weaned off of it as soon as possible," said Severus. "Use it only when needed, not as a matter of course. Same with the sleeping potion."

They discussed Ginny's treatment plan for a while longer. Severus requested a pen and was provided ink and a quill. He picked up the quill and found that it fit in his hand much the same way his wand had. Writing with it was much less of a challenge than he had supposed it would be, though he made a rather large blot and was oddly embarrassed by it. He made a list of instructions for Ginny, and arranged to return in a week to check on progress and issues.

"It is possible that by then I will have access to more of my memories from my Wizarding years," he said as he prepared to floo back to Harry's Hogsmeade cottage with Harry and the children. Harry would side-along apparate him back to Surrey from there and Anna would spend the night with Lily at Harry's. "I am hoping that my apparent skill with potion making will manifest itself soon. I am anxious to combine what I know of Muggle science with magical potions and healing."

Five minutes later, they were all in the cozy cottage Harry had recently purchased in Hogsmeade. Harry gave the children instructions to get ready for bed and after ensuring that they were in their rooms and unarmed, grasped Severus wrist and apparated back to his home in Surrey.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do," said Harry as he prepared to go home. He had already made arrangements to return in the morning to test out the floo connection that Angelina had promised to have set up by that time. "And I'll start gathering up the paperwork—there are quite a lot of reports about her injury and treatment—most of it conflicting." He watched Severus sink down into his leather couch facing the television. Severus picked up a remote control and pointed it at the stereo. He pressed a button, then shook the device and pressed it again. When nothing happened, he walked over to the stereo and touched the power button, only to jump back and stick his finger in his mouth.

"Umm, Severus…" said Harry, working to hide his smile. "Now that your magic is coming back…"

"What?" Severus rounded on Harry. He had taken the batteries out of the remote control and was digging in a drawer for new ones. "Magic interferes with electronics, right? Is that what you're about to tell me?"

"Well, yes, actually…."

"Then how do wizards listen to music? Surely you have recorded music in the wizarding world!"

"We have the wireless," said Harry. "And Victrolas.."

"Victrolas!" Severus dropped the remote and the batteries. The pieces bounced and rolled across the hardwood floor. One battery stopped right in front of Harry's left shoe. He bent to pick it up, tempted to save it for Arthur.

"Calm down, Severus!" Harry said, beginning to laugh. "I'm just pulling your chain a bit. Most wizards can use technology when they're not all gathered in the same place—it's the high magic levels that create the problem. Once your magic calms down a bit, and I'm not here with you, you should be able to use most of your electric and electronic devices."

"Fine, I'll just read then," said Severus. He flicked on a lamp. The bulb promptly exploded.

Harry quickly conjured an oil lamp, which he placed on the table next to Severus. He lit it with a silent "Lumos" and the soft glow illuminated the room. Severus gazed at the lamp, at the dancing flames reflected on the wall, and then back at Harry.

"I'm beginning to think Muggles have overly-complicated their lives," he said. He reached first for a black leather-encased device on the coffee table then stopped himself, shook his head and picked up a hard-cover book instead.

"I'll be back at nine, Severus," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Severus. He had already opened his book and had scooted closer to the end of the sofa near the lamp.

"Blow it out before you go to bed," instructed Harry. He turned on the spot and disappeared with a soft crack.

Severus closed the book and sighed. He took out his wand and pointed it at the lamp.

"Nox," he whispered.

He was left in total darkness as the lamp extinguished itself, along with every other light in his home.

He closed his eyes, stretched out his feet and within minutes was asleep on the sofa.

"Severus!"

Severus Snape, agitated past the point of distraction, dropped the mail he was sorting on the work counter in the kitchen and whirled his head around. A head—Harry's head—was bobbing in the flames (when had he made a fire?) of the fireplace.

"Harry! What…?" he sputtered, his learned Muggle sensibility immediately rejecting the possibility that a disembodied yet decidedly animated head was talking to him from the flaming logs in his fireplace. Was the damper even open? He hadn't used the fireplace since March.

"Looks like it works," said Harry. Severus thought he saw crumbs flying out of Harry's mouth. Harry swallowed and smiled. "Hold tight—we'll be right through, then."

"We'll?" Severus took a step toward the fireplace then reconsidered and instead moved behind the counter. A moment later the flames flared up and spilled over into the room and Harry was tossed out of the floo. He stumbled as he attempted to right himself. There was soot on his face and his glasses were slightly off-kilter. He looked generally off balance and slightly green.

"'Morning, Severus," he said, a bit too brightly. "Anna's right behind me." He turned to face the fireplace and checked his wristwatch.

"Anna?" Severus exclaimed. "You put my daughter in…"

Harry turned around and gave Severus a quizzical look.

"It's the floo," he said. "It's perfectly safe…"

As if to illustrate the point, Anna suddenly spun into sight. She stepped out of the floo with quite a bit more grace than Harry had exhibited and brushed the ashes off her clothes before looking up.

"Papa!" she called out. "We had toast soldiers for breakfast and Professor Potter made poached eggs to go along." She looked around the room, spotting her father behind the kitchen counter. "What's wrong now?" she asked, her voice changing and sounding a tad bit exasperated.

Harry watched Severus' lips twitch into an almost-smile as he regarded his daughter.

"It's my computer again—I can't access my work e-mail."

"Did you reset the router?" asked Anna, walking over to the small desk inset into the work counter.

Severus examined his index finger, which sported a small blister.

"I tried. It bit me."

"Oh, Papa," said Anna. She started fiddling with something while Harry gazed steadily at Severus.

"What?" asked Severus when he noticed Harry staring at him.

"Laptop, tablet or desktop?" asked Harry.

"Laptop," answered Severus. "Why?"

"Wizards do best with a desktop—separate keyboard, you know. Tablets are the worst."

Severus stared at Harry blankly, then the penny dropped.

"Right…magic. Interference."

Harry nodded. "At the very least, you might try an external keyboard for the laptop—not wireless, though. Even after your magic settles down, you might have trouble with the computer. Best to keep as far away from the processor as possible—thus the external keyboard."

"I've got it, Papa," called out Anna from the kitchen. "You've got one from her again…" She made a face. "I'm going to get my swimming things. Professor Potter said Hagrid would take us swimming in the lake today!" She almost skipped out of the room, leaving her father staring at Professor Potter—again.

"Swimming in the lake? With Hagrid? Isn't there a giant squid in that lake? Can Hagrid even swim? And…and…" Severus squinted. Something…some piece of knowledge…was tickling at the edges of his brain but he couldn't grasp it. He shook his head as if attempting to clear out cobwebs then looked up at Harry again. "Never mind. I know there is something else dangerous in that lake. It's not used as the septic system for the school, is it?"

Harry laughed as he shook his head. "First of all, Hagrid doesn't need to swim—he's too tall to even go under the water lying down. Secondly, the plumbing system at Hogwarts is one of the most fascinating parts of the underbelly of that castle. While the pipes do indeed dump into the lake, the—shall we say "contents"—are magically broken down and neutralized. The merpeople would have our heads if…"

"That's it! Merpeople! They're in the lake too—a vicious lot, primitive weapons, right? You actually let your children swim in that thing?"

"The lake is 50 meters deep, Severus, and the Merpeople live at the very bottom of it. I doubt they'll be coming into the shallows where the children play." He studied Severus' nervous face then pushed him lightly on the shoulder. "Magic, remember Severus? We can set temporary wards to keep the nasties at bay."

Severus shook his head and moved over to his work counter again. Harry couldn't see what he was doing, but surmised that he was reading the e-mail that Anna had retrieved. He wondered who the her was that had Anna scrunching her nose in distaste but tactfully—for once—did not ask. Severus stood with his hands crossed in front of himself, eyes downward and scanning from left to right. At length he huffed and looked up, catching Harry's eyes.

"A co-worker isn't taking well to my unexpected vacation," he commented. "Pity I can't answer without losing my fingertips." Harry heard the click of the laptop closing, followed by a muttered oath. Severus stuck his right index finger in his mouth and Harry chuckled.

"We should probably do another magical release session while the kids swim," he suggested. Severus simply glared at him, shaking out his hand and looking up as Anna reappeared in the room, a large tote bag over her shoulder.

"I've brought my special sunscreen, Papa, and my wide-brimmed hat. Oh, and my Royal Wedding beach towel." She held up the indicated items them stuffed them back in her bag. "Is it all right if I bring bottled water for everyone? I've noticed that water isn't much favored in the wizarding world—they all seem so keen on pumpkin juice…" She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and began stuffing her bag with clear plastic water bottles.

"Are you ready to go, Severus?" asked Harry. "We're going to floo back to my cottage then walk up to Hogwarts together."

Severus felt his pockets out of habit and reached for his keys and mobile phone on the counter.

"Um, Severus…" said Harry.

"Right," sighed Severus. He resignedly removed his wallet and tossed it on the counter with his keys and mobile, picked up his wand, looked at it a moment then slid it up his sleeve.

"This doesn't seem quite right," he commented. "Sleeve's too tight."

"We'll find some robes for you at Hogwarts," suggested Harry. "The professor's robes have built-in wand pockets." Severus continued to fiddle with his sleeve while Harry spoke and finally gave up, buttoning his cuff and walking over to the fireplace. He stood in front of it for a moment, the look on his face somewhere between puzzled and thoughtful. Harry motioned to Anna and walked over to stand beside Severus, reaching into his pocket and extracting a small sack.

"Floo powder," he said, uncinching the bag and holding it out to Anna first. "You can go first, Anna. This time the destination is 'Potter's Nook.'"

Anna reached into the bag, took out a large pinch of the powder as if she'd been doing it all her life, and scattered it into the flames. They flared up green and high and she stepped confidently into them, giving her father a sidelong glance to make sure that he knew she was being brave, and clearly announced "Potter's Nook." She was gone in a spin and a flash and Harry held the bag out to Severus.

Severus reached in and took a handful of the sparkling powder, looked once around his living room (perhaps wondering, thought Harry, whether he should leave Harry alone in his home) then dropped the powder on the subdued flames. "Potter's Nook" he said, managing to make the words sound a bit disdainful. He disappeared from his formerly safe and sound Muggle home and Harry followed a few moments later.

/

By the time the small group reached the winged boars on the gates of Hogwarts, it was 10:30 in the morning and already hot and humid. James and Albus, dressed in their swimming shorts, trainers and t-shirts, had run ahead to fetch Hagrid, who was to stay with them while they swam. Lily and Anna held back and walked just ahead of their fathers, chattering as small girls do.

"Hagrid lets us stand on his shoulders and dive off…"

"Papa pretends to be a sea monster and grabs my legs underwater…"

"My dad once ate gillyweed! It gave him gills so he could breathe underwater. I want to try it one day but I heard him tell Uncle Ron it hurt like hell…"

"Lily…" Harry said in warning.

"Oops. Sorry, Dad." Lily turned around and smiled apologetically at her father, skipping along backward to stay ahead of them.

"Sea monster, Severus?" teased Harry.

"Hmmph," answered the man, "Certainly better than having gills. And my daughter is not jumping off of Hagrid's shoulders."

By the time Harry, Severus and the girls reached the lake shore, the boys were already there with Hagrid, pulling off trainers and t-shirts and hopping on one foot at a time on the warm sand. The sand was, of course, not native to the lake—the school had created a small beach area when the Board of Governors had recommended more physical activity for the students and several new teams—including a swimming team—had been formed. The swimming program had actually been rather successful, though the rock climbing squad had been disbanded when a team of Gryffindors scaled the outside of the castle on the day the Minister of Magic visited.

Severus and Harry waited patiently while the girls got ready to swim. Both were wearing their swimming suits under their clothes and when Anna shed shorts and shirt and stood hopping on the sand in her modest one-piece, Severus took a sudden step forward.

"Anna! Young lady—what do you think you are wearing?"

"It's the suit we bought this summer, Papa," answered Anna, her brows furrowing in confusion as she glanced down at herself to be sure she was indeed wearing the navy blue one-piece with the white stars in an arc across the chest.

"It's bordering on indecent," said Severus. He strode over to his daughter and picked up her short-sleeved t-shirt from the sand and pulled it on over her head.

"Father…." protested the girl. "It's a one-piece! It's perfectly…."

"Anna, honey," interrupted Harry, glancing over at his daughter who was wearing a yellow girl's one-piece, but a more modest wizarding version with cap sleeves and mini-shorts. Lily's had a cut-out heart on her belly. She loved the heart-shaped tan she'd acquired last summer. He crouched down in front of Anna. "I think your father is remembering some of the wizarding customs he grew up with. Your suit is perfectly fine. It's just that the wizarding world is a bit more modest than the Muggle world. We're still old-fashioned about some things, but a lot of witches wear swimwear just like yours."

"The boys don't even have shirts on," she huffed, looking out at the water where Al and James were splashing about.

"Rather unfair, isn't it?" asked Harry. "But they are wearing shorts down to their knees, aren't they?" He pinched her cheek lightly. "You girls get in the water and have fun. I'll take care of your dad." He looked up at Severus, hoping to get his nod of approval, but saw that Severus' gaze was frozen, his eyes wide open in apparent horror, his mouth agape. Harry followed his gaze to the edge of the water where Hagrid now stood in a green and blue striped one-piece men's swimming suit, reminiscent of the early 1900s. The sleeves stretched past his elbows and the pants down past his knees, leaving a virtual forest of black leg and arm hair exposed on his forearms and calves. He looked, thought Harry, who despite his long acquaintance with the man, had never seen Hagrid in swimwear, like a gargantuan black poodle stuffed inside an ugly hand-knit sweater the size of a circus tent.

"Oh my," said Anna, following her father's gaze and staring unabashedly, mouth open, at the half-giant.

"Nice suit, Hagrid!" called James.

"Yeah, nice suit, Hagrid," echoed Albus.

Hagrid grinned and waded out into the water out to the boys. They were waist deep but the water barely came up to Hagrid's shins. Harry shook his head as the boys grabbed on to his legs and let him drag them forward as he walked. Laughing, Lily and Anna splashed out into the water after Hagrid and the boys.

"Let's go, Severus," said Harry. "The cove is protected—they can't drown and can't swim out too far. They'll have a good time and Hagrid will bring them in at lunchtime."

They walked together up to the castle, exchanging few words as Severus let his feet trod the increasingly familiar path. He paused in the Entrance Hall, once again inextricably drawn to the dungeon stairs. This time, Harry stopped beside him, understanding.

"Would you like to go down to see your classroom and office?" he asked.

Severus was already walking toward the stairs.

"I take it that means yes?" asked Harry, hurrying to follow him.

Severus was striding down the stairs purposefully now, Harry just behind him. He let his body take over, not consciously thinking, as he navigated the narrow corridors, coming to stop in front of an open door that led into a large classroom. The two men stood together peering in for a moment, and then Severus took a deep breath and entered the room.

The student's desks were arranged as they had been when Harry was a student here, grouped in pairs. Though they'd been thoroughly cleaned by the house elves over the summer, they were still scarred and stained by many years of use careless student use. Shelves of cauldrons, stirrers and other supplies lined the far wall. Jars of ingredients were arranged in careful rows on shoulder-high shelves that ran around the perimeter of the room. A set of scales sat on the teacher's desk at the front of the room, just in front of a standard-sized black cauldron. Behind the desk, a tall wooden cabinet with glass doors was filled with potions textbooks and journals.

Harry stood quietly back near the door while Severus walked around the room, his hand brushing desks and shelves, cauldrons and jars. He came to a stop at last in front of a shelf lined with small jars, all hand-labeled. Harry watched Severus reach out and pluck a jar from the shelf, holding it up to the light to examine its contents. He replaced it then chose another, again examining it then quickly unscrewing the lid and holding it up to his nose, breathing in the aroma of the crushed dried ingredients inside. He repeated this action several times with several different ingredients. Harry leaned back against the wall, prepared to wait him out. Finally, Severus uncorked a bottle and held it to his nose longer than he had the others. He dropped his hand almost reluctantly, then turned suddenly toward him.

"Do you know, Harry, that the sense of smell, of all the senses, is the one that most evokes memories?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. He'd had his share in spades of memories of the past, evoked by everything from Dementors to cupboards. Except for the musty smell of old cupboards, he didn't think smells were particularly evocative for him.

"Come here."

It was as much an order as a request. Harry pushed himself off the wall and walked toward Severus.

Severus held the bottle out toward him and Harry obligingly lowered his face and sniffed.

The smell was instantly recognizable yet sweetly sublime. Harry looked up at Severus and met his eyes, understanding the sadness he saw there.

"Dumbledore," he said, the sharp, clean smell of lemon from the herb within working its way into his head and calling up the memory of the greatest wizard he'd ever known, but of the wizard as headmaster and counselor, pushing a bowl of lemon drops across the desk.

"I've always hated lemon drops," said Snape quietly as he watched Harry's face relax at the memory of the man that stood between them.

"Did he really lace them with calming potion?" asked Harry.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows, looking very much like his daughter had looked out at the lake not so long ago. "I think I would have recalled that," he answered, then shook his head, his eyes far away. "Not that I would put it past him…that man always seemed to have the upper hand…" He replaced the closed jar on the shelf and ran his hand over a fine pewter cauldron. He idly picked through a pile of stirring rods then carefully picked up a glass rod with a thicker glass ball at its base. Like the wand and the quill, the stirring rod seemed to find its place easily in his hands, his fingers curved gracefully around it.

"This seems to fit…somehow," said Severus, replacing the rod on the shelf and once again drawing his fingers over the smooth pewter of the cauldron at the back of the shelf. "I have been working with beakers and test tubes these last years, not with cauldrons. I use precisely calibrated digital scales and measured pipettes…" His voice trailed off; he was now eyeing another shelf. His hands moved to pick up a thick but supple pair of leather gloves. He slipped them onto his hands—hands that were no longer potion-stained and calloused, Harry noted—and flexed his fingers experimentally.

"Dragon hide," supplied Harry.

"Now these I have missed," commented Snape. "They fit nearly like a second skin—amazing, really, considering that the skin of a dragon…" His eyes suddenly widened.

"Dragon?"

Harry nodded sympathetically.

"Of course…there would be dragons." His brows furrowed again and he appeared to be gazing through the dungeon walls, looking for something just outside of his grasp. Finally, he turned his head slowly toward Harry.

"My mind is trying to forge a connection between Harry Potter and dragons," he said, studying the man before him. Something wasn't quite right…and he knew he should be looking for a boy in his mind, not the man Harry Potter was now.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I haven't had an encounter with a dragon for twenty years," he said lightly. Severus frowned, realizing that the implication was that twenty years ago, at the time of the Great Battle, he had. "But yeah, you're on the right track, anyway. Why don't we see if you still need me to tell you about it after a couple more sessions with Stuart?"

Severus gave a short nod as he took of the gloves and almost lovingly—or at least as Harry saw it—returned them to their spot on the shelf.

"My quarters were in there, behind my office," said Severus, indicating a door beside the bookcase behind the teacher's desk. It was not a question.

"They're empty now," said Harry. "No one has occupied them since you…left. Most of the professors prefer to have quarters above ground…" His voice trailed off and Severus leveled one sharp look at him before moving to the door. Just before he touched it, a voice behind them spoke up.

"While that may be true, Mr. Potter, it is not the reason the Potions Master's quarters are unoccupied."

Minerva McGonagall had entered the Potions classroom. She swept the room with her eyes and walked over to stand in front of Severus and Harry who had turned around when she had spoken.

"Severus continued to occupy these quarters while he was Headmaster. Oh, he used the Headmaster's office—but his private quarters were still these." She looked at them pointedly. "We never have been able to get back in here. I'm rather hoping they're keyed to Severus' magic and not a password."

"You mean…my possessions…?" He indicated the area behind them.

Minerva nodded. "I can at least tell you that no witch or wizard has entered those rooms. I don't know what you left there, Severus. You were quite guarded about your private life and only Albus ever…" Her voice trailed off, the sentence unfinished. Severus turned and pushed open the door leading to the office.

The office revealed behind the door was obviously still in use by the current Potions professor. Severus stepped into the room and stood in the middle, noticing Harry's near shudder as he glanced at the high shelves full of glass specimen bottles. A solid wooden desk, imposing and ornate, faced the door and a sturdy wooden chair sat behind the desk. Two smaller wooden chairs, no less sturdy, faced the desk. Was it his imagination or did the chairs tilt forward ever so slightly, as if the front legs were shorter than the back? Harry avoided those carefully as he moved around to the other door on the facing wall. The room was dimly lit by several channel windows set high near the ceiling, obviously set slightly underground but carved out to admit a bit of light through diagonal tunnels.

"You don't like this room," said Severus, carefully running his hand across the edge of the desk and turning to view the interesting specimens long dead and preserved. He glanced again at Harry. "I admit the room is rather…dark. I would not bring my daughter here."

"You brought plenty of students her age here," Harry could not help but say, muttering "including me" under his breath as he thought of the dreaded Occlumency lessons.

"It's a wonder you didn't turn out to be a Potions Master," said Severus sarcastically. He settled himself on the edge of the desk. "For what it is worth, I apologize for the horrors I bestowed upon you as your professor. I can see now—with twenty years of living above ground between me and this room—that I was…misguided." He chose his words carefully, yet still Harry appreciated them.

"We live and learn," said Harry. "I'm just glad you had a chance to live."

The two men locked gazes for a moment, each understanding that there were, in fact, many ways to interpret that statement. Finally Severus nodded. He stood up, dusting off the back of his black trousers with his hands as he walked over to the door of his old living quarters. Minerva and Harry stood back several paces on either side of him as Severus regarded the door.

It was less plain than the classroom and office doors, and slightly more narrow. The brass knob sat in a slightly recessed panel. Severus noted that there was no keyhole and that the hinges were on the opposite side of the door. He closed his eyes, wondering what to do, waiting for the memory—any memory—to surface. Nothing unusual came to mind—no secret passwords or complex wand movements or incantations. Knowing nothing else to do, he reached slowly for the knob. Both Minerva and Harry took another step backward as his hand connected with it.

A flare of heat, not painful, then he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," said Harry. Minerva rolled her eyes.

"When I tried it—and I have not done so for at least ten years, mind you—the door remained resolutely locked. When I rattled the handle, the wards pushed me back into the office. I admit being a trifle stubborn, so I tried to dismantle the wards. We even tried a classmate of mine whose Animagus form is a wood roach—we thought he might be able to run right under the door and open it from the other side." She shook her head. "Can you believe the wards on this door undid the Animagus transformation and forced him back into his human form as soon as his front foot went under the door? It took us several hours to get his middle finger out…left it quite misshapen and enlarged. Needless to say I haven't seen him hide nor hair of him since…"

The three had stepped through the door as Minerva spoke. The wall sconces immediately flared to life, revealing a moderately sized sitting room with an over-sized fireplace. The room was furnished comfortably but sparsely, with furniture that looked well used. A roll-top desk, open, stood against one wall. A short hallway led off to one side and a galley kitchen was on the other.

Severus ignored the desk, the kitchen and the hallway, moving instead toward the sofa that faced the fireplace. Parchment rolls littered a low table between the sofa and the fireplace, a bottle of firewhiskey and a dirty glass pushed to one side. Several potions vials were grouped together behind the whiskey bottle, surrounding an ornate ink jar and quill. Harry and Minerva watched as Severus sank down onto the sofa, staring at the room's only decoration, a painting of the ocean at sundown, almost abstract in its depiction. The sea was not calm but neither was it menacing. In Harry's eyes, it seemed to beckon the adventurer in him.

"I sat here often, staring at this painting, but what it meant to me I don't recall," said Severus, still facing away from them. "The sofa is still shaped to my body, the way I sat." He reached down then and picked up a pair of men's slippers, moccasin style, well worn, then placed them back on the floor and picked up a piece of parchment and unrolled it. He read for quite a while. "A letter," he mused, giving Harry a sidelong look but saying nothing else. He placed it on the table and picked up another. "Another letter—this one to you, Minerva," he commented. His eyes scanned it and he chuckled. "It tells you how to get into these quarters…" He shook his head and reached for another scroll. "This one is to Lupin—it contains a potions recipe…" He dropped the scroll suddenly. "Wolfsbane…."

Harry had moved forward but Minerva held his arm. Severus stood.

"It appears I was forming my goodbyes," he said. "Giving last instructions for the care of the castle." His eyes rested on Harry. "And other instructions…"

"I can imagine," said Harry. "The first letter was to me, I take it?"

"Indeed. It is no longer needed."

"Severus, as the items in this suite belong to you, you are free to go through them and take what you want to keep," said Minerva. "We aren't in need of the space, so there's no need to hurry."

"This would be the perfect place to get those robes you were wanting," commented Harry, nodding toward the hallway that led to the bedroom.

Severus' face brightened and Minerva laughed out loud.

"It will feel like old times to see you in robes again, Severus. You still look stern, in your own way, though the look suits you better tempered with the patience of a parent. Come—I will guess you kept robes in the closet here in this room." She opened the closet door on the wall perpendicular to the entry door, revealing black robes hung neatly side by side, several pair of worn black boots, two black umbrellas, a Slytherin scarf in green and silver and a pointy black hat on the shelf. Severus' eyes went immediately to the hats.

"I never wore such a thing," he stated emphatically.

"Oh, but you did," said Minerva. "Albus used to insist we wear them to the Welcoming Feast. Of course, you always bent the top down." She picked it up and demonstrated as Severus gave her a very Snape-like scowl, then put it back on the shelf with a chuckle as she picked out a random set of robes and handed them to her old colleague.

Severus regarded the robes a moment, running his hand down the sleeves and looking at the cuffs closely. He shook his head and moved over to the closet, sorting through the robes that appeared to be identical, finally selecting a different set and hanging the first one back on the vacated hanger. Harry and Minerva exchanged a knowing glance.

"Well, in for a penny…" said Severus, slipping the robes on over his shirt. Harry saw at once that the pair he had chosen had flared cuffs instead of the close-set ones on the robe Minerva has selected. While wizarding fashion did not move with the speed of Muggle fashion, it did move and the style of the robes Severus selected was decidedly dated. The robes still fit him, however, and he was methodically doing up the buttons—most wizards wore them open—as he had always done. When he was finished, he stood up straight and turned experimentally on the spot.

Harry grinned and extended his hand.

"Professor Snape, I'm Harry Potter. Welcome back."

Severus smirked and looked at the mantle clock which was still keeping perfect time.

"The children will be coming back for lunch soon," he stated. "We'd best get up to meet them."

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the room, Harry and Minerva following in the wake of his familiar billowing robes.

By the time Harry and Minerva caught up with Severus, he was already outside the castle, standing in front of the entrance doors watching Hagrid and the children as they approached. Hagrid had one little girl on each shoulder and had changed out of his swimwear into less startling clothing. "I hope he changed inside his cabin," muttered Severus.

"Severus!" said Minerva. "I am quite sure Hagrid changed in private. The children likely waited outside of his cabin and played with Fang." She pointed to his cabin off in the distance where Severus could clearly see the striped swimming costume hanging over some shrubs just outside the front door.

"Wouldn't really matter," said Harry. "Hagrid's so hairy that he probably looks like a bear when he's starkers."

"I never want to hear 'Hagrid' and 'starkers' in the same sentence again," commented Severus, looking over his shoulder and giving Harry a very Snape-like glare.

The group had reached the bottom of the stairway leading up to the castle doors and the boys raced up as Hagrid stooped to lower the girls down to the ground.

"What's for lunch?" asked James as he slid to a halt in front of his father, his brother close behind him.

"Hello to you, too," quipped Harry, raising an eyebrow at his oldest son.

The boy smiled, chagrinned. "Hey, Dad." He nodded politely at Minerva and Severus. "Headmistress, Professor Snape."

"Thank you," said Harry. "And I have no idea what's for lunch. Is there any food at Hogwarts you don't like?"

"He doesn't eat the black pudding," said Albus.

"Either do you!" shot back James.

Lily and Anna had joined the little group at the top of the stairs, Anna stopping dead in her tracks upon seeing her father dressed in very conservative black wizarding robes. She looked him up and down then sighed, exasperated.

"No one buttons their robes all up, Father," she said as she reached up and began to unfasten the buttons. Severus scowled a bit, but permitted the wardrobe adjustment. He was left with robes that were open from collar to knee over dark pants and a collared button-down shirt.

Anna reached up and adjusted the robes at the shoulder then took a step back. She looked over at Harry, checking the style of his robes—dark grey today—then nodded in approval.

"There, that's better." She turned to her friend. "Don't you think so, Lily?"

Lily nodded enthusiastically. "Much better. You look much more relaxed like that, Professor Snape. Not so severe."

"Thank-you, Miss Potter," replied Severus, giving her a slight courtly bow. "I'm happy it meets with your approval as well." He looked less comfortable with his black robes falling casually open, Harry thought, but he took it in stride and seemed to settle into the altered look.

"We had water in bottles, Dad," said Lily as they all headed into the Great Hall. "It tasted just like regular water, though." She looked a bit disapproving at that, as if she would have expected it to taste more like a Muggle carbonated beverage.

"Yeah," said Albus, turning around to walk backwards so he could see his father as he spoke. "And cereal bars! Those weren't bad, actually. It's like mixing your rice cereal with nuts and chocolate chips and sticking the whole thing together with honey."

"Sounds delicious," replied Harry, grinning. "So you're not hungry for lunch, then?"

"After one measley little cereal bar?" protested Al. "Of COURSE I'm hungry."

"Besides, we worked up an appetite swimming," said James. "Hagrid let us do cannonballs off his shoulders. Even Lily and Anna did it at the end. Of course they screamed like girls…"

"They are girls," said Harry. "Young girls at that. You weren't jumping off Hagrid's shoulders when you were their age, were you?"

"Well, I didn't exactly have the chance, did I?" asked James, rolling his eyes.

Harry laughed and Severus looked a tad disapproving at his cheek, but the group settled in for a hearty lunch and the conversation moved to other topics. They had just started on their pudding when an owl arrived. It landed next to Minerva and held out its leg expectantly. She treated it to a piece of a cinnamon digestive as she removed the small scroll, reading it as the Potter boys entertained Lily and Anna with stories of the sorting ceremony and feasts in the Great Hall.

Harry, however, was watching Minerva's face as she read the message. Her brows were beginning to furrow and she glanced once over at Severus. Severus was fully engaged, however, in listening to James, Albus and Lily expound on the delights of Diagon Alley to Anna.

Finally, Minerva looked up.

"Gentlemen, we have a bit of a problem," she said dryly. She held up the scroll. "The Daily Prophet would like confirmation that Severus is alive."

"The Daily Prophet?" Harry's eyes widened. "How did that rag…?"

"You walked from Hogsmeade, did you not?" asked Minerva.

Harry scowled and Severus frowned. "Well, there is that," admitted Harry. "But Severus hardly looks like the Severus Snape anyone in Hogsmeade would remember."

Minerva frowned. "Harry, several members of Slytherin House from the years Severus taught here reside in Hogsmeade now."

"That's right," groaned Harry. "And Pansy works at the Prophet."

"And her mother at the Ministry," added Minerva.

Severus followed the conversation, head turning from Minerva to Harry and back to Minerva again.

"While I would like to maintain privacy—for myself and my daughter," he began, "I don't see that my being alive is a crime. I would be happy to reply and confirm that I am indeed alive and leave it at that."

Harry looked at Severus, his mouth dropping open.

"Leave it at that? You don't remember much about the Daily Prophet, do you?"

"Or about the Ministry," added Minerva, smiling at Severus almost fondly.

"What's to remember? Are not ordinary wizards afforded the same privacy in their world as Muggles?"

Harry shook his head as Minerva hid a smile behind her hand.

"Ordinary? Severus—you've never been an ordinary wizard. You're an acclaimed war hero, one of only a handful of living recipients of an Order of Merlin, First Class. And you've been presumed dead for twenty years."

"You're wizarding royalty," put in Minerva. "Like Harry here. The public will want your story, the Ministry will expect an interview at the very least and the Prophet will demand a feature article with photos."

"Then perhaps this was not a good idea," said Severus, pushing his chair back from the table and sweeping his hand in an arc to indicate the castle, the very magic, surrounding him.

The children had stopped chattering and were fixing their attention on the adults by now.

"Not a good idea? Papa!" exclaimed Anna. "This is the best thing that could possibly have happened! You have magic again, and I'm going to go to Hogwarts—with Lily!" She glanced over at her new friend and Lily nodded her agreement. "And you're starting to remember, and even if it's not all pleasant and happy, at least it's something. I've never been so happy…I've never been anywhere else that feels so right…" She trailed off, looking at her father with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Please, Professor Snape," said Lily, her voice small. "It really isn't so bad. Dad's been famous for forever and people ask him for all sorts of things and take pictures of him and he's very polite about it and he says it's gotten loads better as the years pass…"

"I think Severus' idea is a good one," interrupted Harry, giving his daughter an appreciative smile which she returned. "Let him owl the Ministry and the Prophet with whatever information he'd like to share. As long as he continues his treatment here at Hogwarts, no one can get to him. He can floo directly here from his home in Surrey."

"What do you say no one can get to me here?" asked Severus. "We walked right through the gates without question or provocation. What's to keep out this Screecher woman?"

"That's Skeeter, Severus," answered Minerva, "though I will say that Screecher fits her as well. As for the protection of Hogwarts—the entire grounds are warded. The wards are extensive and complex, but they recognize Hogwarts professors and staff members…"

"They also recognize intent," said James, a bit proudly, as if this piece of information was not known by most almost fourth-years.

Harry nodded at his son. "Right, James. Though certainly not fool-proof, the current wards judge the visitor's—or intruder's—intent and the gates will not open to those who are not here on legitimate, sanctioned Hogwarts business." He turned to Severus to explain further. "The current wards were strengthened about five years ago when I was still head of MLE at the Ministry."

"That's Magical Law Enforcement, Father," explained Anna in a whisper.

"It sounds like a valid plan," said Severus. "However, I will need to go out in public in the wizarding world if Anna is to attend Hogwarts, or if I regain more of my memory and wish to pursue a magical career. Will I be safe?"

Harry glanced at Minerva then turned back to Severus. "From your admirers?"

"Safe in general," replied Severus. "I have not had to watch my step, so to say, these last twenty years."

Harry didn't have a chance to answer as the great eagle owl that sailed into the Great Hall at that moment distracted him and captured the attention of everyone at the table.

"That's the Malfoy's owl," said Albus, pointing without need. "Purity. It's been here loads of times for Scorpius."

"That kid gets a package from his grandmother every week," scoffed James, looking solidly affronted. He seemed to forget the frequent packages of treats that Molly Weasley sent to each of her grandchildren at Hogwarts.

Minerva shook her head. "Probably just Lucius informing me of another visit by the Board of Governers," she said. She picked up another digestive, prepared to offer it to the owl once it delivered its message, but the owl alit on the table not in front of her but in front of Severus instead. It deftly maneuvered around the tray of biscuits and the bowl of lemon meringue then held out its foot and hopped a bit on one leg. Severus stared at it a moment before reaching forward and untying the small scroll attached to its foot.

"The Malfoy's owl," he repeated idly to himself. Minerva tossed the digestive to the bird, which caught the treat and made short work of it. The owl, however, did not depart.

"Why is it staying?" asked Severus. He hadn't yet opened his letter. "The others all leave once they've delivered their message."

"They stay when they're waiting for a return message," said Harry. He watched Severus a moment. The man made no attempt to open the letter.

"Do you…do you remember the Malfoys?" asked Harry. "You mentioned their names yesterday at the Burrow. I think you were beginning to remember then."

"I believe you told me it was complicated," replied Severus.

"Actually, I said my relationship with Draco Malfoy was complicated," corrected Harry. He directed his attention to the boys. "Why don't you two go show Lily and Anna the owlery? Aunt Hermione will be here to fetch you all at two o'clock to take you to Diagon Alley for your supplies. You have nearly an hour 'til then."

"I want to hear what Scorpius' grandparents have to say," protested Albus.

"And you believe that what's written on that letter is your business?" asked Harry, standing and beginning to direct the children out of the Hall. Anna looked at her father, both concerned and curious. Severus caught her look and gave her a reassuring nod.

"Go with the other children, Anna. This is just a letter from an old friend of mine. Doubtless he has been informed of my whereabouts and simply wants to arrange a meeting."

"Am I getting my supplies too?" she asked hopefully.

Severus instinctively reached into his back pocket for his wallet, sighing when he realized that he didn't have his wallet and that British currency would not be useful anyway.

"You can pay me directly," suggested Harry to Severus. "Hermione had a bank draft from me for my Gringott's account. I use pound notes when I'm in London so that will work fine."

Anna gave her father a hurried hug and Harry a grateful smile then the girls hurried off after the boys and all eyes—Harry's, Hagrid's and Minerva's—turned back to Severus and his letter.

"The Parkinson's are well connected with the Malfoys," said Harry. "If they alerted the Prophet they likely are spreading the word elsewhere too."

Severus opened the letter and read it quickly, rerolling it and dropping it on the table when he finished. The owl looked at the scroll and waited patiently.

"The Malfoys—that is, Lucius and Narcissa—wish me to confirm that I am alive and at Hogwarts." He paused and looked rather puzzled. "They also offer me lodging in their home should I be in need of a place to stay that is 'more hospitable' than Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is plenty 'ospitable," said Hagrid.

"It's just their way, Severus," explained Minerva. "The Malfoys are of a class in and of themselves. Old money…"

"The Malfoys fought on Voldemort's side in the war," explained Harry. "But in the end, their love of their son won out over their loyalty to Voldemort. It was Narcissa Malfoy who saved me, in the end…"

Severus was quiet for a long moment. He reread the letter then looked up at Harry.

"I recall their faces," he said. "I spent time….at their manor. There were peacocks…white peacocks."

"That's the place," breathed Harry. No matter what Lucius had paid in restoration, no matter the long probation he had served or the hours and galleons he and his family had poured into establishing trusts for the war orphans like Teddy Lupin, he would always remember Malfoy Manor with revulsion, would always hear Hermione's screams as he and Ron were trapped in the dungeons.

"Why don't you write them a short note—just explain that you are only now regaining your memory and are under treatment here at Hogwarts."

"Lucius Malfoy is a member of the Board of Governors," Harry reminded Minerva. "He can visit Hogwarts at any time—the wards will recognize and admit him."

Minerva sighed.

"Best to invite him here, then," she relented. "But don't feel it must be today, or even this week. Write your letter, and propose a time and date that is convenient to you."

"You might want to wait until you have a couple more memories restored," said Harry. "I think you would be at a better place then. Lucius Malfoy can be rather…intimidating."

"I do not recall whether he was my friend," commented Severus, frowning.

Minerva shook her head. "Associate would be a better word, Severus," she explained. "Still, there is quite a bit of shared history between you, from your days here at Hogwarts as a student to your…association….with the Dark Lord."

"Come on, Severus," said Harry, standing up and effectively ending the uncomfortable situation. "Let's go to my office—you can write a note to Malfoy and to the Prophet from there and then we should have time for some spell practice before your session with Stuart."

"Perhaps you should do the excess magic siphoning first," said Minerva, looking worriedly at Severus. His hair, short though it be, was beginning to stand on end as if he was receiving an electric shock. Harry shook his head indulgently.

"Relax, Severus. Let's get the letters over with then go out and blow up some stuff."

"Really?" asked Severus, looking interested.

"Really," said Harry. "I have a plan."

Forty minutes later, three owls were dispatched in different directions with three similar messages from Severus. Lucius received an invitation to visit Severus on Friday at 10 a.m. at Hogwarts. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, in office again after the two four-year terms of former Minister Ambrosia Deckhauser, was officially notified that Severus was alive and in treatment at Hogwarts. And finally, Rita Skeeter was invited to send an owl with written questions for Severus' consideration.

The children were in the Great Hall with Hermione when Severus and Harry returned from the owlery and were ushered out through the floo with James going first, tossing in the floo powder and calling out "The Leaky Cauldron" with authority.

"Get an upgrade to your required cauldron," Severus found himself instructing his daughter. Lily looked at her father, who shook his head.

"Better stick with the standard," said Harry. "Potters usually blow up several before their Potions skills start to take shape."

Fifteen minutes later, Severus was back at the lakeside where he had practiced the previous day—was it really just a day ago?—with Hermione. Harry took out his wand and signaled to Severus to do the same.

"Let's try three spells," said Harry. "First, you'll summon an object to you. Then you'll transfigure it into a clay plate. Finally, I'll toss the plate out over the water and you get to blast it." His boyish enthusiasm for the blasting bit of the exercise made Severus roll his eyes.

"Fine, skeet shooting it is," said Severus. "Now, this first charm you mention…"

Within thirty minutes, Severus had mastered—or remastered—the summoning charm, had learned how to transfigure pebbles into clay plates and was developing a pretty good aim with his blasting curse. It had taken three tries to hit upon an appropriate object to summon. Harry chose a stick first—there was a good supply of them on the ground already—but Severus' magic was so near the surface that the first stick nearly impaled him. He dove out of the way as it approached him and Harry destroyed it with a blasting curse before it could do further damage. Harry next recommended feathers—like the sticks, there were quite a few around the lake as owls from the owlery often dipped down to this particular spot for late night drinks. Severus dutifully pointed his wand at a feather, summoned it to him with an Accio that was perfectly flawless, then screamed in pain as the pointy end, like the projectile point of an arrow, embedded itself in his thigh.

"A little less intent behind your Accio," muttered Harry after he pulled out the offending feather and healed the puncture wound. Severus fingered the hole in his trousers and tried it again.

"Accio feather!" he called out. He didn't actually point to a specific feather, just to the general area where a number of feathers were wafting about in the tall grass around the lake. And that, thought Harry, was the crux of the problem.

"It's just a dead robin," said Harry as he cleaned and healed the second wound of the day, this time a deep gouge in Severus' palm where the pointy beak of the dead bird had hit his outstretched hand.

"It's unclean," said Severus. "Birds walk around in their own excrement. And who knows where it's had that beak…"

"I disinfected it before I healed it, Severus," explained Harry, tucking his wand away while Severus studied his hand. "Come on, let's get on with it."

The small, smooth pebbles along the lakeshore proved to be the solution to the summoning problem. Severus was able to summon one, catch it in his outstretched hand then transfigure it into a clay plate with relative ease. Harry hurled each plate high in the air over the lake, throwing them like Muggle Frisbees, and Severus took aim and blasted. He hit more than half the first fifteen minutes and improved his accuracy to two out of three in the next quarter hour. By the time the hour was up, he felt less on edge and more centered; his magic no longer seemed to bristle in his skin, making his hair stand on edge as it had in the Great Hall earlier as he contemplated Lucius Malfoy's letter.

The two men watched the last plate explode high over the lake, watched the thousand clay fragments rain down and drop into the still water of the lake.

"Feel better now?" asked Harry as he dusted his hands off on his robes, leaving clay dust handprints on the dark fabric.

Severus pocketed his wand and smoothed his hand over his hair.

"Less bristly, at least," he replied, the left side of his mouth rising slightly into a half-smile. He glanced up at the castle and squared his shoulders. "Time to see Stuart, I assume," he said.

As they walked back to the castle, Severus was silent, apparently lost in thought. "It's as if I have lost ground these last twenty-four hours," he said at last. "After the first session, I felt as if I had half of my life back. But as the hours progressed, I felt more and more as if all that was in my brain from these past twenty years started to crowd out all the new information."

"I think you should tell Stuart that," suggested Harry. They had reached the castle doors and he held it open for Severus as they entered. "But my guess is that it's just part of the recovery process. Maybe think of it as the old and the new learning to live in the same space—kind of like when Ron and I gave a go at being flat mates after we left Hogwarts."

"Interesting analogy," said Severus dryly.

"Hey, I try anyway," laughed Harry.

When they entered the infirmary, Stuart and Poppy were already there, standing at the small table that still held the pensieved memories. Stuart was prodding the memories with his wand and Poppy was studying them intently. They looked up as the Harry and Severus approached them.

"Oh, there you are." Stuart stood up and directed Severus to a nearby bed. Severus sat down on the edge of the cot, removed his shoes then slid onto the bed with his back resting against the headboard, the pillow at the small of his back.

"I thought we'd try a memory from your childhood today," said Stuart quietly as Poppy worked to separate out an appropriate memory.

"There are actually a number of memories in there from Severus' childhood and his school years here at Hogwarts," said Harry.

"I'm not sure how successful this will be," said Stuart as he checked Severus' pulse. "You were what—37?—when you lost your memory? So the memory we are about to restore may have occurred as many as 30 or so before that. It would be better if the returned memory had something else to connect with, some other memory thread to which you had access…"

"Here," said Harry, stepping closer to the Pensieve. "Maybe you should try one from Hogwarts." He took out his own wand and stirred the cloudy substance in the bowl, watching the faces float around, forming and reforming miniature three-dimensional figures. He sighed.

"These aren't really pleasant," he said, looking up at Stuart.

"Life isn't all pleasant," said Severus from his spot on the hospital bed. "I remember enough already to not be surprised at the person I once was. Just choose one and get on with it." He sounded decidedly Snapish now, and that comforted Harry somewhat. At length he extracted a single long silver thread and held his wand tip out to Stuart, who transferred the memory to his own wand and approached Severus.

"Which one did you choose?" asked Poppy softly as Stuart held the memory to Severus' temple and recognizing its rightful owner, it flowed into his skin like a stream of water.

"An argument with my mum," whispered Harry. "It wasn't pretty…" He looked nervously at Severus as the expression on the man's face changed from fairly placid to distinctly troubled. He closed his eyes and brought his hands up to cover his eyes, then dropped one to the bed while with the other he tried to push hair—hair that was not there—back out of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut then and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. As they watched, he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

Five minutes had passed and he had not moved again.

"Severus?" said Poppy quietly, taking a step toward him and placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Not yet," he replied, his voice catching. He stayed in that position for ten more minutes and then at last he slowly unrolled then sat up.

"I would like one more today," he requested. He looked at Harry, almost curiously, then clarified. "Of Lily."

Stuart began to stand but Harry stopped him with his hand and stood up himself instead, walking over to the Pensieve and extracting a memory, a perfect counter to the first he had chosen. A memory of a little girl on a swing and a young boy telling her—for the first time ever—about magic.

Thirty minutes later, Poppy back in her office and Stuart gone through the floo, Harry and Severus walked together through the castle corridors, down the marble staircase and out into the sunshine. They trudged silently toward the winged boars on the castle gates. Harry's hands were stuffed into the pockets of his pants and Severus had his clasped behind his back. They walked through the gate and Harry closed it carefully behind them, then continued down the path toward Harry's cottage in Hogsmeade where the children were scheduled to return within the hour.

"You know," said Severus at last as they walked quietly together, "I never really hated you."

"Could have fooled me," said Harry. He shrugged then, ridding himself of the pent up resentment with the gesture. "I didn't know that then, but I figured it out about twenty years ago." He shrugged again. "Water under the bridge, Severus."

They continued walking, two robed figures of similar stature, each chewing on painful memories.

"It's just that…" began Severus. But he stopped then, closing his mouth sharply on the nearly spoken thought.

"It's just what?" pursued Harry. Severus shrugged this time and Harry smiled. "Never mind then," said Harry. "Let's get home before the ruffians destroy the cottage." He increased his pace, beckoning to Severus and when he was a few steps in front of him, Severus could no longer keep the words inside him. They'd been pummeling his brain since that first memory of Lily had been restored to him and he had looked across the infirmary at Harry's face, at Harry's eyes and it had all come tumbling down in his brain. The protest he'd tamped down for all those years, the shout of rage at the heavens for robbing him of that one thing that he wanted, that he thought he deserved.

"You should have been mine," he said, not too loudly, but loud enough.

Harry stopped walking. He turned around. If anything, he looked relieved.

"You would have been a good dad," he said thoughtfully. He smiled that wistful smile Severus had seen before. "I would have liked that. Never had a dad…not really."

They stared at one another for another moment, then Harry reached out and took Severus' elbow and pulled him forward.

"Anna will be waiting," he said. "And she'll have that new cauldron to show you."

They continued talking as they walked, chatting about the Diagon Alley purchases and the Hogwarts supply list. The last thing heard before the Hogwarts path became the depot road in Hogsmeade was Severus exclaiming "A pet! No one said anything about a pet!" with Harry's answering laughter trailing back on the wind.

The kitchen table in Harry's modest cottage was piled so high with books that Severus almost missed the largish cage the books surrounded.

"His name is Moonstone, Papa," explained Anna as she stuffed an owl treat between the bars of the cage and reached her finger in to scratch the bird on its head. "It's a potions ingredient—I found it in my new Potions textbook." The white and brown barn owl with its distinctive heart-shape face snatched up the treat and hooted affectionately.

"Owls are useful, Papa," she continued when Severus didn't immediately respond. "It's more than a pet—it's a familiar." She looked at him nervously. "I can keep it, can't I? I told Hermione that I wasn't sure as we'd never had a pet in the house…"

Severus pulled his gaze away from the softly hooting owl back to his daughter and smiled.

"You may keep him. You'll need him to write to me when you're at Hogwarts, won't you? I take it he's already trained to carry letters?"

"Of course, Papa!" exclaimed Anna, her face lighting up. She stuffed another owl treat in the cage—Severus made a mental note to read up on the proper amount of food for a barn owl—then skipped out of the room calling out to her new friends, "He said I can keep him!"

"They're really not any trouble, Severus," said Harry as he admired the new owl. "He'll stay in the owlery at Hogwarts so you'll only have him at your place over the summer." He reached a finger through to stroke the owl's head, much as Anna had done. "I used to keep Hedwig in a cage in my room at the Dursley's over the summer." He paused, glancing over at Severus. "Hedwig was my owl while I was at Hogwarts."

Severus reached into the cage with two fingers to stroke Moonstone's head. "I recall that owl…a snowy white. It was quite distinctive among all the others." He lowered his voice slightly. "You no longer have him?"

"Her," corrected Harry. "And no. I lost her during the war."

Severus continued stroking the owl's head.

"Moonstone is a good name. It fits him," said Harry after a quiet moment.

"Moonstone is an essential ingredient in the Draught of Peace," said Severus. "I have been trying to recall that."

"I see you've met Moonstone," interrupted Hermione from the doorway. She walked in and stood beside Severus. "I didn't think you'd mind if Anna purchased an owl."

"No, I don't mind," said Severus, watching Moonstone begin to carefully clean his feathers. "This one is quite…inoffensive."

Hermione and Harry exchanged an amused look. "Speaking of owls," continued Hermione, "James mentioned that Severus got an owl from Lucius Malfoy…"

Harry quickly filled her in on the situation with Malfoy and the Prophet. Hermione furled her eyebrows.

"We'll probably want to ward Severus' home then," she said. "At least protect him from outside magical intrusion while he's there. Should I go fetch Bill or Arthur?"

Harry glanced at Severus. He could not read the look on his face. "Severus' magic is coming back pretty strongly. It would be better if he helped—it should make the wards more impenetrable." He paused, then smiled at Hermione. "You're the best we have at warding charms. I can stay here with the children while you two go on to Surrey."

"We should probably redirect his owls here or to Hogwarts too while we're at it," suggested Hermione. "We wouldn't want his Muggle neighbors…"

"Dad! Dad! I got my wand!" Lily came running into the room, sliding across the polished wooden floor in her socks. "Look! It's made of holly, just like yours, but only 10 inches, with a unicorn hair core!" She brandished the wand about her head and it emitted showers of golden sparks which glimmered as they fell to the floor.

Harry took the wand from Lily and examined it closely, then waved it in the air and produced a respectable bouquet of wildflowers. He snatched them quickly out of the air.

"Looks like it works," he said, handing her the wand and the flowers then carding his hand through her hair affectionately. She giggled and skipped back out of the room, yelling "Look what my wand made!" as she ran to join the others. Anna was back in the kitchen soon afterward, waving her new wand about as well.

"Make me some flowers, Papa!" she exclaimed, handing him her own wand. Severus took it carefully, running his fingers over the smooth dark wood.

"It's made of ebony," offered Anna. "10½ inches with a phoenix feather core. Make it do something, Papa! All I can do so far is sparks!"

"And that's all you should be doing with it as of yet," assured Severus. He pointed the wand at a glazed clay plate on the counter and transfigured it into a stone. A stone with a shiny glaze on it. Harry smirked.

"Wow!" Anna picked up the smooth rock and looked admiringly at her father. "Just think what you'll be able to do when you remember everything!"

Harry looked at Severus as Anna bounced back out of the room carrying her new wand and the smooth stone with her, as pleased with this evidence of her father's magic as Lily was with the bouquet of flowers. Severus was holding his own wand now, looking at it curiously, rubbing his fingers along the wood much as he had done with Anna's wand. He caught Harry staring at him and sighed.

"The wand chooses the wizard," he said. "I remember that at least."

Hermione smiled. "And it took a long time choosing Anna. I took Hugo, Lily and Anna to Ollivander's while the older children went to George's shop. Hugo and Lily only had to try four or five wands each but we went through about two dozen with Anna. It was really very interesting—Ollivander finally asked Anna her name and of course she said 'Anna Stephens.' Lily—she's always helpful, isn't she Harry?—anyway, Lily piped up with 'She's Professor Snape's daughter.' Ollivander cocked his head to the side and stared at her a moment in that very calculating way of his then his face lit up and he climbed on a stool and pulled down another box. He pulled out the dark wand and she literally let out an 'Ooooh' when she saw it. It was like Christmas for her when she waved it and the sparks flew."

"Christmas in August," said Harry. He looked at the piles of books and other supplies on the kitchen table. "And by the looks of things, I won't be able to afford Christmas this year. What were Ginny and I thinking when we decided to have three children?"

"I would have had more," said Severus as he picked out a Potions Textbook from one of the piles and paged through it.

"Why didn't you, then?" asked Harry.

"It takes two to tango, Harry," answered Severus cryptically. He closed the book and turned to Hermione then gestured toward the floo. "Let's complete this warding process. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a long day."

/

By nine o'clock the next morning, Harry had received more than thirty separate owls, all but two of them carrying messages for Severus.

"Another one, Dad!" called out James. He, Albus and Lily were all sitting on the front porch stairs watching a magical construction crew expand the small cottage across the street. "Oh! Another howler!"

"That's only two though," said Albus.

"Yeah, way more love letters than howlers," put in Lily.

"You don't know they're love letters," said Harry, walking out onto the porch to take the howler gingerly from the common tawny owl. "We're not reading Professor Snape's mail."

"Well, they smell like love letters," persisted the little girl, sniffing her fingers. She's removed her share of parchments and envelopes from the delivery owls since she'd gotten up this morning to find a dozen owls on the front porch along with the morning Prophet, which was delivered door to door in Hogsmeade by a girl on a broomstick.

Privately, Harry agreed. He'd sorted the letters into piles—the perfumed ones, the howler-the one in his hand would be added to that pile—the ones with the seals from several prominent Slytherin families and the official ones from Ministry departments.

"Why don't you kids get your brooms and floo over to the Burrow? Your grandparents are expecting you at 9:30 and I'm sure they wouldn't mind seeing you a bit early."

"But Daaaadddd! We want to see what happens when Professor Snape…."

Harry's glare cut off Lily's whine. She huffed as she straightened her back then tossed her hair back over one shoulder. "Fine! You can just bring Anna over by yourself then when she gets here."

"Anna is perfectly capable of flooing by herself by now," said Harry as he followed the children inside. He stood in the sitting room with them as they flooed one by one to the Burrow, each holding his or her broom tightly against their side, then tossed the most recent howler onto the table where it quivered and quaked in anticipation of being opened. He had just made himself a second cup of coffee when the floo flared and Anna stepped through. She was followed in short order by Severus. He was wearing dark gray trousers with a dark blue shirt and had his black robes on over the ensemble, this time unbuttoned. Anna was sent directly on to the Burrow to join the Potter children while Harry went into the kitchen to fetch a strong cup of coffee for Severus.

"You'll probably want to read the Prophet first," said Harry, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table for Severus and setting the coffee and the newspaper down in front of him.

"First?" asked Severus, sitting down and reaching for the paper and only then noticing the stacks of letters. His eyes moved over them to the two vibrating red envelopes. "Are those…?"

"Ignore them," answered Harry. He sat down across from Severus and pulled two letters from the piles. "These two are next—after the paper."

"Oh Lord," groaned Severus. "Where did they get that photograph?" He spread the paper out on the table and Harry grimaced again at the headline. "Harry Potter's Biggest Secret" was printed in gigantic letters above a photo of Severus that looked like it was taken in the 1990s while Harry was a student at Hogwarts. However, it had been "artificially enhanced" to age Severus. In the photo, he was balding and his long comb-over was streaked with silver.

The article was peppered with half-truths and suppositions. It did accurately state that Severus had been spotted in Hogsmeade with the Potter family but beyond that kernel of truth not much was accurate. The theory put forth by the paper was that Harry Potter had hidden Snape from the wizarding world after rescuing him from the Shrieking Shack and had sent him to the States where he recovered and became the Governor of the State of Chicago before marrying a beautiful American actress named Betty White."

"The Wizarding World doesn't follow American politics or entertainments, I take it?" asked Severus, shaking his head and taking a long drink of the hot coffee.

"Skeeter sent her questions," said Harry instead of answering Severus' largely rhetorical question. He scooted a scroll of parchment tied with a purple ribbon over to Severus. "Well, I think that's what it is, anyway. It has her seal on it, anyway. Maybe I'm wrong—could be a marriage proposal."

Severus narrowed his eyes into a threatening glare but took the scroll, removed the ribbon and broke the seal. He unrolled the parchment and scanned it, snorting in disbelief and amusement.

"Describe your perfect date," he read. He reached into his pocket and extracted a muggle pen and wrote on the parchment. Harry leaned across the table to get a look.

"June 22nd, 2007?"

"Anna's birthday," answered Severus. He looked up at Harry. "My perfect date. May not be the perfect one but it is my favorite…"

Harry grinned. "What's next?"

"What color is your toothbrush? What is this drivel? And listen to this one—do you prefer big-breasted, medium-breasted or small-breasted women?"

Harry had stood and walked around the table to read over Severus' shoulder.

"How about this one? Describe your love/hate relationship with Albus Dumbledore. I should put down that he was my soulmate and my lover." He ran his finger quickly down the numbered items on the scroll. "Aren't there any relevant questions at all? Like 'What have you been doing these last twenty years?' or 'How did you survive that snakebite?'"

"I don't know, Severus," said Harry, "this one here seems kind of important." His finger stopped at a question about half-way down the scroll.

"Do you prefer boxers or briefs?" Severus read aloud. "I think I'll send a pair of my black boxer-briefs to this idiotic paper and I won't bother to wash them first!" he exclaimed, scribbling on the paper.

"Why don't we just move on to the letter from the Ministry?" suggested Harry, taking the pen out of Severus' hand and reaching across for one of the scrolls the Ministry owl had delivered an hour ago.

"The Ministry? You'd think you would have started with those instead of this garbage," muttered Severus, grabbing the scroll away from Harry. He took another long drink of coffee as he broke the seal, running his thumbnail under it expertly until it popped off and the scroll unrolled.

"It's from the Department of Vital Statistics," he commented, scanning down the scroll to the signature.

Harry nodded. "Well, read it," he said. He'd returned to his chair and pushed the pile of scented letters to the side.

"Hmmmm," said Severus as he read. "Seems I need to go to the Ministry to file a petition to have my 'deceased' status re-evaluated." He continued reading. "That's ridiculous. I'm not supposed to use my wand as it's registered to a deceased individual."

Harry pushed another scroll across the table and took the one Severus was holding from his hands. "I'll take you to London after we get through this mail. Don't worry about it. The Ministry is all about red tape and paperwork."

The next scroll, from the Minister of Magic himself, welcomed Severus back and confirmed the meeting Severus had proposed this afternoon at Hogwarts. It was obviously written after the morning Prophet's publication as it congratulated Severus on his illustrious career and high-profile marriage.

"He's kidding, you know," Harry said with a smile. "Kingsley is well-connected with the Muggle world."

"Hmmph," said Severus. He had pushed Kingsley's missive aside and had unrolled a letter from Gringott's.

"Oh, that one's from the wizarding bank," said Harry.

"According to this letter, I was officially declared dead on August 31st, 1998, on the last day of the month three months after I was last seen alive." He read a bit further. "From that point, Gringott's sealed my account for twenty years. My survivors and creditors can claim it after that point. However…" He looked up at Harry.

"However, if you prove that you're alive within the next three weeks, your accounts are yours again," said Harry. "You should do well with that, Severus. The Order of Merlin first class carries with it a 10,000 galleon reward."

Severus stared at him a moment and Harry knew that despite his recovered memories, he was still trying to do the conversion rate math in his head.

"You might want to take a look at the rest of these later," said Harry. "They're mainly from admirers and a few of your old…friends." He looked distastefully at the pile with the ornate Slytherin-themed seals.

A sharp rapping on the door surprised them both and Harry jumped up, wand immediately in his hand. He walked to the window, peaked out and groaned.

"I should have expected this," he said.

"Who is it?" asked Severus, moving up next to Harry to look sideways out the window toward the porch. He could see two shapes, both in profile. "It that Lucius?" He indicated a head with long, straight hair, almost white.

"Not Lucius," said Harry, sighing. "His son, Draco. And that's Pansy Pankinson with him." He moved back toward the table away from the window as the rap sounded again at the door. "Listen, they don't know you're in here. We can put this off 'til later…"

"No, let's get it over with," said Severus. He strode purposefully toward the front door, Harry behind him, and yanked it open. Draco's hand froze in mid-knock and both Slytherins took a step backward.

"Professor Snape…." Draco drew in a breath, his eyes riveted to Snape's face. Beside him, Pansy looked from her old head of house's face to Harry's behind him.

"Nice of you to drop by," said Harry, stepping forward and extending his hand toward Draco, who looked at it dumbly before shaking it loosely. He seemed shell-shocked.

"What? Didn't you expect to find him here?" asked Harry.

"Well, frankly, no," answered Draco. "The Prophet is never right. It's just that Pansy said she'd seen…"

"I told you I wasn't hallucinating," said Pansy, a little shrilly for Harry's liking.

Draco shot her a dark look. For some reason, that cheered Harry up a bit. He frowned, however, when Draco's gaze moved from Severus' face down his body, taking in his muggle clothing under the open black robes.

"Did Potter lend you those clothes?" he asked, looking confused. He assessed Severus again, mentally sizing him. "I'd be happy to provide you with something more…appropriate…" Harry watched him struggle for the words. He would have liked to have let him falter longer but Severus took pity on the boy.

"Thank-you for the offer, but these are my own clothes." He glanced at Harry. They were nearly of equal height but it was abundantly obvious that Harry's clothes, fitted to his much more muscular body, would be too large for Severus.

"Of course. I'm sorry…I only…" Again, Draco faltered. Severus saved him with a smile.

"I am forgetting my manners. I am sure Harry would not mind me inviting you both in for tea."

"Of course." Harry took a step back into the house and Severus pushed the door open wider.

"I'm late for work already," said Pansy, obviously eager to take confirmation of Severus' location in to her employer.

Severus nodded to her politely as she made her excuses before moving a few steps down the walk and disapparating. Draco did not make a move to enter the house.

"I don't mean to be rude, Potter, but might I speak with Professor Snape in private?" he asked.

"Well, that would be up to Severus, wouldn't it?" Harry answered with a smile.

"Severus?" repeated Draco.

"Draco, I'm nearly 40 years old and Severus hasn't been our professor for 20 years."

"Please call me Severus as well," said Snape, directing his statement to Draco. He then turned back to Harry. "Allow me to speak with Mr. Malfoy privately for a few minutes, Harry. We will stay out here."

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who looked uncharacteristically nervous and hardly haughty at all, then nodded to Severus and went back into the house, closing the door softly behind him. He had mail of his own to sort through and lesson plans to create. He had barely gotten through his small pile of mail when he heard the front door open again. Severus sat back down in the chair across from him.

"Well?" asked Harry, pretending to be busy with his bills and not looking up.

"I informed him that I have had amnesia and have been living as a Muggle. He seemed…appalled."

Harry answered without looking up, attempting to sound casual.

"Well, you aren't surprised, are you? Malfoy is a pureblood. They don't…." he tried to choose his words carefully "…appreciate Muggles…or the Muggle way of life."

"Harry." Harry looked up and met Severus' eyes. "I have regained enough memories…and enough awareness…to know that purebloods such as the Malfoys disdain Muggles. What is most curious now is that when I was speaking with him, I both empathized with his position and resented it."

"That's understandable," said Harry. "It's your old life and mindset competing with the new. But really, you didn't hate Muggles. Not all of them, anyway." He looked at Severus meaningfully and Severus felt a sudden tug at his heart as Harry's green eyes morphed into Lily's.

"No. Not all of them," he stated, looking away. He reached across the table for one of the perfumed envelopes and broke the seal. Harry kept working on his accounts but heard Severus' scoff.

"A proposal of marriage. From a Miss…" he squinted at the letter and held it further away from his eyes. "A Miss Hyacinth Doppelburger." He glanced over at Harry. "Do I know her?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably. She sounds old."

Severus crumpled the parchment and sent it flying at Harry. Harry snatched it out of the air easily and grinned.

"Quidditch reflexes," he said. "Do you want to sit there and read your other marriage proposals and listen to a couple of howlers or get on over to the Ministry so we can get back in time for your meeting with Kingsley at Hogwarts?"

Severus looked at the howlers again. "Why haven't they...?"

"Neat little suspension spell I learned in the MLE," he said. "Keeps a howler from exploding in your face until the recipient actually touches it."

The howler on top gave a frustrated little shudder. Severus shook his head.

"Draco had more to say," he began. "He wondered whether I remembered, given the amnesia and all, that you and I were not on the best of terms in my past life. I suppose he thought you might have been less than upfront with me on that matter."

"Amazingly, I can understand that," answered Harry. "We weren't on the best of terms…"

"No, we were not," replied Severus, looking directly at Harry now. "But that, as you say, is 'water under the bridge.' Things are different now, and I told him so. Still, I was touched by his concern. He legitimately seemed to want to protect me."

"He's returning the favor," said Harry. "You did a lot of that for him, back in the day."

Severus stared at Harry for a long moment before answering.

"That I did, didn't I? But in the end, it wasn't me who saved him."

"He told you that, did he?" asked Harry lightly. Severus nodded.

"I may have saved him at the end, but it wasn't me who saved him on the Astronomy Tower that night."

"I…" Severus stopped, realization dawning in his eyes as disjointed memories fell together.

"He's redeemed himself, Severus. He's a good man now. We're not friends, not by a long shot, and he can be truly ruthless when he wants something badly enough. But he's also a true philanthropist. Lucius donates to causes that promote his position or advance his status but Draco donates to causes that promote peace and healing."

"He doesn't sound like a Slytherin," said Severus.

"I think he was adversely affected by having the king of all Slytherins as a house guest at Malfoy Manor."

Severus didn't comment. An odd look passed over his face, but it was soon gone. He stood.

"Let's get to the Ministry and fill out that paperwork," he said.

Harry stood as well.

"Draco would fund your memory research," he said as he pushed in his chair and carried empty mugs over to the counter.

"Would he?" asked Severus. He looked thoughtful.

"I'll put in a good word for you," joked Harry. "Come on, let's go get frustrated proving to those Ministry paper-pushers that you're not quite dead."

Severus rolled his eyes as he followed Harry to the floo.

/

By the time Severus' three o'clock appointment with Stuart rolled around, he was already exhausted. He'd spent two hours at the Ministry filling out a form on a parchment roll several feet long—all to prove that he was alive. The administrative assistant at the Department of Vital Statistics (the DVS—Harry joked that everyone called it the Deviants) had promised him a decision within two weeks. Harry pulled him away from the counter when steam began to pipe out from his ears.

"Kingsley will take care of it," he assure Severus as he pulled him from the room. "This is just a formality—Kingsley won't be able to do anything unless the documents are completed first. Come on."

They went to Gringott's next. Dealing with the goblins proved to be much easier—they were a blood thirsty lot, and sealed their deals with drops of blood. All Severus had to do was give up a drop of his blood to prove his identity and he was handed a key to his vault and trundled up for a precarious trip through the tunnels.

"I'd quite forgotten that part," he said, his face slightly green, as he and Harry stepped out of the cart. He found, to his great surprise, that his vault contained not only more galleons than he ever remembered having, but most of the contents of his old home at Spinner's End. He took out with him only his mother's jewelry box and a sack of galleons small enough to tuck into his robe pocket.

"Pity Gringott's doesn't have credit cards," he said later as he found himself jingling when he walked.

Kingsley had been waiting in the Great Hall, having tea with Minerva, when they arrived at Hogwarts after fighting off a crowd of Severus' admirers in Flourish & Botts. Harry had a black eye where he'd been punched by a limber grandmother wielding a loaded handbag. Severus escaped with nothing but fingernail scratches on his arms, though he'd been assaulted by a very buxom woman of fifty or so who had managed to plant a very wet and serious kiss on his mouth before Harry had pulled him away and side-along apparated him all the way to Hogsmeade.

"I didn't pay for my book!" protested Severus as they both sank to the ground, panting from the long-distance apparition.

Fifteen minutes later, Kingsley had greeted Harry and Severus with a very genuine smile and firm handshakes. Severus and Kingsley had then walked off together toward the lake to have a "little chat" as Kingsley put it and Harry had taken the chance to go organize his books and supplies in his new office. He lost track of time and it wasn't until nearly three thirty that he realized that he had missed Severus' appointment with Poppy and Stuart. He hurried down to the infirmary and found Poppy alone.

"Stuart's already flooed back," she said as she smoothed out the wrinkles on the bed Severus had used. "And Severus went down to his old quarters to sort through his belongings there."

"How did it go today?" asked Harry.

Poppy pursed her lips.

"The treatment is obviously working. Stuart did some general memory tests today and Severus is beginning to remember things that aren't specific to the returned memories—events and such associated with them or from the same time period. Today, though…well, the memory must have been quite upsetting."

"Most of them were," said Harry. "Which one did Stuart return?"

"It was Severus coming to Albus—after your mother died."

"Oh." Harry looked away. That memory, of all of them, had tormented Harry the most. Severus has seemed so lost in it, so close to the edge, ready to promise Albus anything, even to protect James Potter's son. Lily's son.

"I think I'll go down and help him," he said, then left the hospital wing and made his way down to the dungeons. He found Severus in his old quarters, sitting at the old roll-top desk going through papers.

"Poppy said you came back down here," Harry said as he walked through the open door. "Would you like some help?"

"No," said Severus shortly. He turned toward Harry on the chair. "But I would like to tell you about Anna's mother."

Harry stared at Severus a moment, trying to put together the pieces.

"Anna's mother?" he asked. He walked into the room and sat on the sofa. "OK, what about her?"

"She was a waitress at a small pub near my home. I used to stop in for a pint after classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was fascinated by her—the way she talked, the way she moved, what she looked like. She had a boyfriend though, a man younger than me, a good-looking fellow that played cricket and dropped her off at work on his bicycle.

"One day I came in to find her morose, crying. The boyfriend had broken up with her. I invited her out after work, to have a shoulder to cry on. By the end of that evening we'd both had too much to drink and we ended up in my bedroom. I didn't see her again for more than nine months—she quit her job the next day and never came back to that pub.

"But she showed up at my door later with Anna, a newborn of only two weeks, and asked me to take the child. Of course, she had hoped it wasn't mine, had hoped that once she had her ex's child in her arms he would beg for her to come back. She knew when she saw the child that it was likely mine, and the blood type confirmed it could not be her former boyfriend's.

"And that is how I ended up with Anna. Julia would come to see her from time to time, but the visits stopped after Anna's first birthday. I knew nothing about babies and was able to manage it only with the help of a very good nanny and a lot of luck."

"We couldn't have done it ourselves without Molly," said Harry. "I've never been so scared in my life as when the mediwitch handed me James just after he'd been born."

Severus smiled wistfully. "I never thought I'd be sharing parenting stories with Harry Potter," he said. "However, that isn't the reason I told you this story. I just found a photograph of your mother in this desk. I thought, at first, that it was Julia. They look remarkably alike."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what else to say. He looked at Severus blankly.

"Even down to the eyes," Severus continued. "Julia had remarkable green eyes, exactly like Lily's. But Anna didn't inherit those eyes. I suppose it's for the best, really. Julia saw those eyes and knew she belonged to me."

"She's a beautiful child, Severus. A remarkable one, really. You've done a fantastic job with her. And she adores you."

Severus smiled. In this confines of his old dungeon quarters, the environ of the old Severus Snape, the smile looked out of place.

"The memory treatment was successful again today," he said, segwaying into a different topic. "I was very naïve thinking the Dark Lord would spare your mother. I truly expected her to survive."

"Just like you expected me not to," said Harry.

"Indeed," said Severus, looking at Harry for a long moment then turning back to his desk and removing some letters from a small drawer. "But like always, you defied expectations."

"Right," laughed Harry. "Next time I'll…"

But Severus cut him off.

"No, Harry. They'll be no next time."

Harry nodded his head. He could live with that.

The next day, Severus went in to work in the morning and Harry spent most of the day with his children, swimming in the lake at Hogwarts and playing two-on-two Quidditch on the pitch. He'd been surprised to see Anna's new owl on the porch rail with the two dozen or so other owls that morning. He'd been ignoring them, knowing that most were delivering unsolicited letters for Severus, but when he'd gone out to fetch the Prophet, he thought he'd recognized Moonstone. The owl had ruffled its feathers and hooted at him, stretching out its leg which held not one but two small scrolls. When he moved to take the delivery, the other owls had begun to crowd in. James had saved the day by appearing with a bag of owl treats and had patiently removed each of the letters, passed out treats and shooed the owls away. He'd dropped the letters into the basket Harry had designated for Severus' fan mail, scrunching up his nose at the perfume wafting off them.

Moonstone had brought one letter for Harry, and one for Lily. Lily jumped from one foot to the other as she waited for him to remove the ribbon.

"Did you send Moonstone off? Is he waiting to take a letter back?"

"Go check on the porch," said Harry, smiling at his daughter's excitement. "I imagine Anna instructed him to wait for a reply." Lily ran out to the porch and Harry sat down at the table with his coffee and his note from Severus. It was brief, advising Harry that Severus would be spending the morning at work and would get himself to Hogwarts for his mid-afternoon meeting with Lucius Malfoy and appointment with Stuart. He explained—only enough to peak Harry's curiosity, of course, that something had occurred to him as he lay tossing and turning, unable to sleep, and he had to go into his office to research the idea further.

Harry, oddly worried that Severus would try to apparate—did he even remember that one couldn't apparate inside Hogwarts?—wrote a short reply advising Severus to floo to Harry's cottage and walk from there to the castle. He made a mental note to practice apparition with Severus. What were those three Ds again?

Moonstone was indeed waiting for a reply, and Harry hurried his daughter along, reminding her that she'd be seeing Anna again in the afternoon and didn't need to write a novel. Lily rolled her eyes—Harry was sure she'd inherited that gesture from Ginny—but soon Moonstone was winging off with his two replies, happy as any post owl who'd successfully delivered a letter, received an owl treat and been given a response. Harry dug out his own swimming shorts, put them on under his robes for the walk up to the lake, and rounded up the troops.

The children continued to play in the water long after Harry had stretched out on a blanket on the shore, tired from the sun and the exertion. He was joined there after a time by Neville, who had been up at Hogwarts getting the greenhouses ready for the upcoming term. Neville was already a seasoned Hogwarts Professor. He'd begun teaching Herbology soon after gaining his mastery, nearly ten years ago. While Harry dodged curses and chased after madmen for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Neville settled comfortably into teaching and had become a fixture at Hogwarts, a much-loved professor with a gentle nature who proved to be a natural at teaching and a trusted colleague.

"Alone today, eh?" asked Neville, settling down on the blank beside Harry.

"If you mean 'Where's Snape?'—he went in to work this morning. Apparently had some sort of cosmic revelation as he was tossing and turning in bed last night and had to do some research."

Neville grinned. "Not the kind of research you can do at Hogwarts I take it?"

Harry returned the grin. "Nah, I assume it involved Muggle pharmaceuticals and computers." He sobered a bit and shook his head slightly. "I can't even imagine it, Neville. He's lived as a Muggle for twenty years and acquired all this new knowledge the Muggle way. He's an expert in his field."

"I can't see how that's a problem, Harry," put in Neville. He picked up a stone and tossed it side-armed into the lake where it skipped several times before sinking.

"Oh, that part's not the problem," answered Harry. "It's… Hey! No dunking!" James jumped hurriedly away from Albus, holding up his hands in an 'I'm innocent' posture. "Sorry…how did we ever survive childhood without parents watching our every move?" He meant it as rhetorical question, forgetting that Neville, like himself, had grown up without parents.

"Anyway," continued Harry after an uncomfortable pause, "What I meant about Snape is that now he's getting back another forty years of memories and knowledge—all that he learned as a Potions Master and as a student and a teacher. And you know how his brain must be working on overdrive to mix it all up. He's been working on a way to prevent senile dementia—Alzheimer's Disease—and now he's got a whole new arsenal of ingredients and processes to try."

"That could drive a man insane," said Neville. "Trying to integrate Muggle knowledge with magical processes."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, but if anyone can do it…"

"Snape can." Neville returned the smile as he watched Harry's children playing in the water. "Lily sure looks like Ginny," he said quietly after a long moment. "Seems like yesterday when we were kids here." Another drawn-out moment. "Do you think Snape can help her, Harry?"

Harry sighed. "I don't want to get my hopes up, Nev. I've been down that road already." He laughed softly. "But if anyone can do it…"

"Snape can," finished Neville.

"Haven't we already had this conversation?" quipped Harry.

Neville laughed. "The man is brilliant. Scary and brilliant."

"A lot less scary than he used to be though," replied Harry. He looked over his shoulder back up at the castle. It was difficult, in the bright light of this August day, to see the castle as he had twenty years ago, on the night of the Final Battle, in the waxing light of the May morning following the night's victory, through the human carnage and destruction. "It's the best thing that could have happened to him, really. Dumbledore—one of them, anyway—must have known it was the only way to give him a chance at happiness."

"He's almost human now," mused Neville. "No, strike that. He is human now. Seeing him with his daughter…"

"I know what you mean," said Harry. "Hard to believe I'd have so much in common with him."

"And after all he did for you in the past…that he'd have one more thing to do for you all these years later." Neville's voice was matter-of-fact.

"I can't just keep on taking," said Harry with a sigh. "I already owed him one before he came back…"

Neville laughed, shaking his head. "Owed him one? Harry—don't you think getting rid of Voldemort settled your scores? You don't owe anyone anything—you never have."

Harry's eyes had a far-away look. "Yes I do, Nev. I owe Ginny. I at least owe her a chance." He paused and looked at Neville. "Maybe he can help your…"

"Don't, Harry," said Neville, tossing another flat stone into the water. "It will be enough if he can help Ginny."

/

The Potters dried off with an hour of Quidditch after their late morning swim then Harry took the children home for lunch. Lily fell asleep on the sofa while he and the boys cleaned up and he tucked a light cover over her and admonished the boys to let her sleep while he headed back to the castle for the meeting with Lucius Malfoy. Severus was already at Hogwarts—they had met him on their way back to the cottage for lunch. Severus had been striding up the path, dressed in black trousers and a long-sleeved green turtle-neck. He slowed as he approached.

"Where's Anna, Professor?" asked Lily immediately.

"She's home with her nanny," answered Severus. "She'll be back with me tomorrow."

"Oh." Lily sounded disappointed. She kicked a rock at her feet. Harry tapped her on the head and gave her a warning look.

"I thought I would look through my closet for something appropriate to wear…over these…" said Severus, sounding a bit uncertain and indicating his clothing. "Lucius will be overdressed, I am sure, and I did not have time to shop for new robes…"

"By now Lucius has spoken with Draco and with the Parkinsons," said Harry. "He'll know exactly what to expect when he meets you. Don't pretend to be something you're not, Severus," he advised, adding, "And you look perfectly fine."

Severus looked uncertain. "I have been racking my brain to try to determine what he wants from me. As far as I can remember, we were not so much friends as…" he paused here, choosing his next word carefully.

"…associates."

Harry had sent the children ahead then, promising to catch up in a minute.

"Severus," he said, his voice low and serious. "You, Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy are the only known persons with the Dark Mark that aren't dead or in Azkaban. Until you reappeared, no one, well, no one except perhaps Lucius' wife Narcissa, had hard proof of Lucius' specific activities during Voldemort's reign. Don't get me wrong—he isn't claiming complete innocence. He was able to convince the Wizengamot that…"

"Wizengamot." Severus had repeated the word and then smiled. "I had forgotten about that body…"

Harry shook his head. "He convinced them that he wanted to defect but he stayed loyal to Voldemort to protect his wife and son. That he was coerced. I guess it helped him that I defended his wife and kept her out of prison."

"Where are you going with this, Harry?" Severus glanced backward to where the children had no disappeared around a bend in the path.

"Lucius Malfoy wants to know what you remember. Specifically, what you remember about him. At this point, I wouldn't let on that you remember anything specific about the three years before you disappeared."

Severus regarded Harry a long moment. Gone was the protective father and boarding school professor. Looking at him instead was the face of a seasoned auror, a law enforcement professional who'd seen his share of the seedy side of the street. Severus straightened his shoulders, inexplicably impressed by this Harry.

"Thank-you. I'll take that advice. You will be there for the meeting at 2 o'clock, won't you?"

Harry checked his watch. "I'll have to hurry, but yes, I plan to be there. I'll floo right to Minerva's office after I get lunch for the kids."

Severus nodded and proceeded on his way.

It was five minutes before 2 o'clock when Harry stepped into Minerva's office from her floo and dusted off his robes. He'd forgone his most formal wizarding attire for what passed as "business" wear in the Wizarding world—long dark blue robes, just brushing the floor, buttoned from the waist up and open below, over formal black trousers. He'd put on his favorite boots, made of black leather, supple and well-worn from his days in the MLE.

Minerva, sitting behind her desk with a quill in her hand, nodded her approval at his appearance.

"Severus met Lucius at the front door a few minutes ago. They are making their way up here now. Have a seat." She indicated a grouping of four chairs around a low tea table. Harry left the serving seat for her and chose the chair that left him the best view of the door. He sat down, smoothing out his robes as he did so, the gesture second nature after nearly 30 years of wearing robes. He adjusted his collar, remembering the countless times Ginny had performed that gesture for him. He let his eyes stray over to Minerva, who looked up at the door seconds before he heard the knock.

"Come in, Severus, Lucius," she said, standing and moving toward the door. Minerva still moved gracefully, despite being well past retirement age. She threatened to retire almost every year, and had recently told the Board of Governors that this would be her last year as Headmistress.

Severus entered first. He nodded first to Minerva, then to Harry as Harry stood and offered his greeting. Severus was wearing simple yet fairly formal black robes over the trousers and turtle neck he'd been wearing an hour before when Harry met him outside. He took the chair opposite Harry's, leaving Lucius to sit between Harry and himself. Lucius greeted Minerva, accepted Harry's proffered hand and sat in the remaining chair with a posture that clearly indicated that he was in charge. He waited politely for Minerva to serve the tea before he spoke.

"On behalf of the Board of Governors, I am delighted to welcome our former Headmaster back to Hogwarts," he began. Severus jerked around as clapping started behind him, remembering after a moment that the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses were again expressing their approval at his return. The polite clapping died down after a moment, and Lucius continued. "But I am here not only as a representative of the Board of Governors, but as a personal friend of Severus Snape…"

"And you have already welcomed me in that regard, Lucius," spoke up Severus, the expression on his face so very Snape-like that Harry felt a sudden pang of nostalgia for all the detentions he'd served with Snape while he was a student.

Lucius shot a similar look at Severus, not at all taken aback by Snape's interruption.

"I am anxious to hear the entire story, of course," he said, relaxing back into his chair. "Up to this point, I've read only what the Prophet reported and heard what my son had to say after his short meeting with you yesterday. I imagine there is much more to the story." He settled back in the chair, waiting.

Minerva and Harry exchanged a quick glance, then Minerva spoke up. "As you certainly know, Lucius, Harry has long believed that Severus survived the…incident…in the Shrieking Shack and over the years has followed a number of leads that led…well…nowhere. While there was no proof that Severus was dead, there was also no irrefutable proof that he was alive. However, a new student on the Hogwarts rolls for this year caught our attention. Harry did the follow-up home visit and discovered Severus." She raised her teacup to her lips and said, almost speaking into the cup, "And that was that."

"Hardly," said Lucius, looking over his cup at Harry. "What exactly did you find there, Harry?" While under any other circumstances, he would have referred to Harry as "Mr. Potter," he easily slid into the form of address that the others were using.

"I found Stephen Squires and his daughter Anna," answered Harry casually.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, Harry," said Severus, rolling his eyes. "Lucius, there simply isn't much to tell. I was suffering from amnesia and had no memories of my life as a wizard. I was living as a Muggle and raising an 11-year-old daughter. I was working—I still work—as a research scientist for a large pharmaceutical company."

Obviously, Lucius was interested in quite another part of the story.

"But how, Severus? How did you survive? Surely you have some idea—at least by now, with your memory restored?"

"My memory is not fully restored," answered Severus, rather stiffly. "I have pieces, some isolated memories and some longer tracts." He looked directly at Lucius and added "I doubt I will ever recover all that was lost. I will have to be content with what I can piece together. It will have to be enough."

Lucius leaned forward, gripping the serpent-headed cane on his lap tightly. "Was there a memory block, Severus? A spell? Were you obliviated?"

"They do not know," replied Severus. "Or at least the test results are inconclusive. The healers could find no evidence of a block of any sort, intentional or otherwise."

Minerva looked at Harry. They'd all been dancing around the real cause of Severus' amnesia but no one had really voiced it yet. Harry caught Minerva's gaze and sighed.

"The most likely cause of Severus' amnesia is what he did for me in the Shrieking Shack," said Harry, looking at Severus instead of Lucius. It felt good, finally, to voice this after tiptoeing around the obvious for several days. "He thought he was dying—that he was out of time. He forced the memories out—it must have taken a tremendous amount of magical energy to do that, and I doubt he had as much control as he needed, especially toward the end as he got weaker and weaker." Harry's voice caught in his throat, but he continued. "I think…and I'm not an expert of course…but from what I've seen as Severus' memories have been returned, the volume of memories he released left him without good connections to the memories he retained. Coupled with the blood loss, the oxygen deprivation and the general trauma…"

"Ah…" Lucius leaned back in his chair. He looked…satisfied. "Tell me, then, how it is that you survived?"

"Apparently, I had made arrangements in advance with Albus," replied Severus. "It was his brother—Abeforth—that cared for me and got me established in the Muggle world when I recovered. Though I do not yet recall much of my year here as Headmaster, I apparently wanted a new start if I survived the war."

"And this whole time—these past twenty years—you had no inkling at all? No suspicions?"

Severus leveled a stare at Lucius. It was clear to Harry, at that moment, that the two had not been friends.

"None. I didn't have even a glimmer of recognition for a person or a place until Harry Potter knocked on my door this past weekend."

"I bet you're thankful you had a magical child, then," said Lucius. He selected a pastry from among the delicacies on the tea tray and looked at it critically.

Severus' gaze hardened. Harry saw the change immediately, but Lucius, fortunately or not, was too busy scrutinizing the pastry to notice.

"I am thankful for my child, yes," he stated, leaving off the "magical" adjective. "And I have been thankful for her for more than eleven years now."

Lucius looked up and met Severus' challenging gaze. This Severus, this man that looked like a Muggle plucked down in the middle of Hogwarts, hair too short, clothes too modern, stance too relaxed, was as formidable now as he ever was.

"I look forward to meeting her," said Lucius smoothly. "I am sure she is a capable witch. Has she inherited her father's…?"

"Nose?" Snape cut off Lucius and smiled. After a moment, Lucius smiled back. Harry thought the smiles genuine, for a change, and not challenging. Obviously a remembered joke between old…associates. "No, she has not. As for her other talents, we shall have to see. I've known that my daughter is a witch for not much longer than a week now."

"And will she follow her father's footsteps into Slytherin House?" asked Lucius.

"I haven't given that any thought," replied Severus.

But Minerva and Harry were both smiling. "She's about as Slytherin as Hagrid," said Harry. "I'd put money on Ravenclaw. You should hear that girl. Reminds me so much of Hermione at that age…"

"Not that there's anything wrong with Slytherin, of course," added Minerva diplomatically. "Anna will find friends and a home wherever the Sorting Hat places her."

"Ravenclaw," muttered Harry.

Lucius, unused to playful banter, turned the conversation back to his own agenda again.

"I called an emergency meeting of the Board of Governors yesterday to discuss an upcoming vacancy on the Board…"

"Vacancy?" questioned Minerva. "I was not informed of a vacancy on the Board of Governors." She placed her teacup in its saucer and leveled a calculating look at Lucius.

"Upcoming vacancy," said Lucius solicitously. "Constantine Arturis hasn't officially announced his retirement, but has made it known to the Chair of the Board that he will vacate his position as soon as a suitable replacement can be found."

"Arturis has served on the Board since…" Minerva was almost speechless. She was fairly certain that the old coot had been on the Hogwarts Board back when she was a student.

"Since 1943," finished Lucius with an exaggerated sigh. "He is the last of the old 'life-timers.' He has been out-of-touch with the realities of the modern world for decades."

"As you may or may not know," continued Lucius, "there is a special provision in the by-laws by which life-time Board members are replaced by appointment of the current Chair." He paused and looked expectantly at Severus. "As that position is currently mine, I would like to extend to you, Severus, an invitation to join the Hogwarts Board of Governors."

Harry and Minerva looked flabbergasted. Severus looked confused.

"I don't understand," he began. "What qualifications…"

"It's an incredible honor," said Minerva, recovering her voice.

"A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," said Harry, almost in awe. Severus obviously did not remember yet the prestige associated with a Hogwarts Board position, nor the power the Board wielded in determining curriculum.

"Qualifications?" said Lucius, his attention back on Severus. "You have a Potions Mastery, Severus. You served as Headmaster of this school. You are a gifted wizard." He looked somewhat confused and glanced over at Minerva. She reached out and placed her hand on Severus' shoulder.

"Accept Mr. Malfoy's offer, Severus," advised Minerva. "Trust me, it is the right thing to do."

Severus narrowed his eyes at Minerva but apparently got the message. He turned toward Lucius. "I am honored to accept your offer, Lucius."

Another round of tea, some general information about the duties of the Board of Governors and the meeting schedule and Lucius left, escorted by Minerva to the gates of Hogwarts from where he would apparate out. Harry and Severus walked slowly down to the infirmary to meet Poppy and Stuart.

"I've never seen Minerva so excited," said Harry, grinning at Severus. "She could hardly keep her hat on. She's been secretly hoping old Arturis would keel over for years now. He's one of the reasons Hogwarts hasn't instituted a fine arts program and that old Binns taught History of Magic for so many years. Merlin, Severus, you're perfect for the Board of Governors! You're young…"

"I'm nearly 60, Harry," interrupted Severus.

Harry laughed. "OK, you're not quite middle-aged, then, and you'll have a daughter here—a vested interest in how things operate at the school. Even better you have twenty years of life in the Muggle world—you know what the Muggle World does right in their educational system. You could really help shake things up…"

"I am relatively certain that it was not Lucius' intent to 'shake things up,' remarked Severus.

"No," said Harry. "I'm sure it wasn't."

They walked together until they reached the infirmary door.

"How did your research go this morning, anyway?" asked Harry.

Severus smiled. "I've been at this job for more than ten years now, Harry, and I've made some significant advances. With the small amount I've gotten back already, I may be able to move the needle on Alzheimer's research significantly in as little as a year…"

"Move the needle?" asked Harry, frowning.

Severus rolled his eyes. Wizards.

/

Severus and Anna joined the Potters for an early dinner at their Hogsmeade cottage that night. It was a fairly calm affair. The Potter children were exhausted after a day in the sun, Severus was quiet after another memory restoration session, even Harry was introspective, remembering the look on Severus' face after yet another restored childhood memory. Harry could only imagine what connections Severus' mind had made after viewing the memory of himself and Lily, sitting in the quiet grove of trees, talking about getting their Hogwarts letters. "How are things at your house?" Lily had asked Severus. "Doesn't your dad like magic?" And Severus' answer. "He doesn't like anything, much."

"Why don't we all floo over to the Burrow for a little while?" suggested Harry. "Molly's bound to have cake and coffee and we can tell them your news, Severus." He glanced over at Severus, who nodded, understanding that Harry wanted Severus to see Ginny again, to do that "follow up" he had promised.

A half hour later, the children were playing with Rose and Hugo, who were staying at the Burrow for a few days, and Severus and Harry were having cake and coffee in the kitchen with Molly, Arthur and surprisingly, Ginny. Harry had greeted Ginny in her room with the customary kiss on the cheek and offer to read but Severus had stepped in behind him.

"Molly has coffee ready in the kitchen," he announced. "Why don't you both join us there?" He addressed Ginny in particular, and she met his eyes, looking worried.

Everything in Harry wanted to sit quietly on the sofa with Ginny tucked in to his side, reading to her as he had read to the children when they were smaller, reading simple stories and timeless young people's classics, Muggle and Wizard alike. But he knew what Severus was trying to do and realized—not too late, he hoped—that keeping Ginny apart from the daily activity of life was not, in fact, helping her in the long run. He stood up and offered his hand to Ginny, helping her stand and steadying her as she sought balance on unstable feet.

Molly looked a bit surprised when Harry helped Ginny into a chair and sat down beside her. Ginny's hand was unsteady as she ate her cake but Severus stilled Harry's hand as he reached to help her.

"The cake is delicious, Ginny," said Arthur, smiling at his daughter.

"Did you make the cake, Ginny?" asked Severus.

"She did all the mixing…" answered Molly, her voice fading out as she realized she'd answered for her daughter. She looked apologetically at Severus.

"How many eggs did you use?" continued Severus, still directing his questions at Ginny.

Ginny glanced at her mother, who was looking with interest at the thin piece of chocolate rum cake on her plate. Ginny shook her head, obviously straining to remember. Her brain, it seemed, could not pull out even such a simple piece of information from an activity not more than two hours ago.

"Ginny, show me how many eggs," urged Severus. He mimed cracking an egg over a bowl.

Harry, Molly and Arthur were all staring at Severus. Nothing in their personal arsenal of tricks gained in working with Ginny over the past year had any relevance to what Severus was now doing.

"How many eggs, Ginny?" he repeated, once again miming cracking an egg.

Ginny, to everyone's surprise, thoughtfully began to mime cracking an egg as well.

Then she cracked another. Then two more. She stopped, and looked at Molly.

"Four eggs?" asked Severus. This time he glanced over at Molly, who nodded, biting her bottom lip.

"Well, it's excellent," said Harry, using his finger to wipe crumbs from the plate and lift them to his mouth. Ginny giggled.

"You like that, do you?" asked Harry, feeling for a brief moment that he was twelve again, and that Ginny was a shy eleven-year old, poking her head out from around the corner of her bedroom door, giggling then slamming her door shut in embarrassment. He licked his finger then, transferring the rich chocolate to his mouth and licking his lips.

Ginny, too, had finished her cake. She mimicked Harry's gesture, wiping her finger on the plate to lift off a glob of chocolate icing. But instead of licking it off her own finger, she offered it to Harry, holding it in front of his mouth, a playful, innocent smile on her face.

To Severus, it was the most heart-wrenching moment he'd had since rejoining the Wizarding world. Had Harry and Ginny been an ordinary couple, he would have felt like a voyeur on an intimate moment.

But Harry and Ginny were not an ordinary couple. As Harry tentatively opened his mouth, Ginny moved her finger to the side, wiping the chocolate icing on Harry's cheek. She giggled, sounding like a school girl.

The disappointed look on Harry's face stayed with Severus a very long time.

Thursday, and the weekend was quickly approaching. On Sunday, following long-standing Weasley tradition, everyone would be off to Playa de Magico, an all-wizarding beach on the southern coast of Spain near Malaga. When they returned a week later, start of term would be less than a week away.

Harry and Molly hadn't gone on holiday last year as Ginny had still been in St. Mungo's. The accident had happened in May, and already hope for a full recovery was fading, so Harry had insisted that Hermione and Ron go, and they had offered to take the Potter children as well. It had been a godsend for the kids—helping to lift James out of his depression by returning them to something like normalcy and allowing all three to expend their excess energy with their cousins on the sand and in the sea and to toss their frustrations into the waves with the small, smooth stones of the Mediterranean shore.

"You have to come this year, Harry," insisted Hermione. They had been arguing back and forth now over tea for some time. Harry insisted that he stay with Ginny, allowing Molly to get a much-needed break and giving him the opportunity to further prepare for the imminent term. Hermione, on the other hand, proposed that Percy and Penny stay with Ginny. They were not going on holiday this year as Penny was seven months pregnant, a pregnancy that had both broadsided and delighted the couple, as Penny was well into her 40s. They had offered to stay at the Burrow with Ginny and their children would be accompanying George and Angelina and their brood.

"I want to come," said Harry, sighing. "I missed it last year. It was such a good experience for the kids after the summer we had." He looked across the table at Minerva, who reached out and patted his hand.

"Go, Harry. Don't feel guilty about it and don't use your new job here as an excuse not to go. You could teach Defense with a hand tied behind your back."

Next to her, Severus, who was trying to decompress after another memory restoration session with Stuart, snorted.

"Not your wand hand if you're in with a class of Gryffindors," he said.

Hermione laughed out loud.

"I think those sessions with Stuart are working," she said.

Severus grimaced. He had come down to the Great Hall from the infirmary fifteen minutes ago at Poppy's insistence that he have some fortifying tea before he headed home. Harry, Hermione, Minerva, Neville and Hagrid were gathered around an oblong table on the faculty platform, a smaller table used only in summer time when the majority of the staff was away. Today's memory had him removing the Sword of Gryffindor from its hiding place, preparing to bring it to the forest where Harry and his friends were camping. The memory, once replanted, had immediately brought forth a string of related images, of Severus watching, hidden in the trees, as Harry retrieved the sword, aided by Ron Weasley, of Ron ultimately destroying the horcrux. The rush of memories around that single event had left him panting, nearly out of breath, holding his head against the sharp pain until Poppy gave him a headache potion and Stuart advised him to come back the next day then take the weekend off.

"How did it go today?" asked Harry as the others continued to talk.

"Successful…again," said Severus. "The memory today seemed to trigger new…." Severus paused, looking for the appropriate word. "Connections, I suppose," he said. "The memory involved me removing the Sword of Gryffindor from its hiding place in my…the headmaster's…office but it triggered additional memories almost immediately, ones that were already within me, that I apparently had not given you twenty years ago."

Harry's gaze was steady as he regarded Severus. "The forest?"

Severus nodded, the briefest of nods. Harry could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "I remember watching you…following the doe…going into that pond after the sword. Your friend's arrival was fortuitous. I had no inkling that you would go into the water with the horcrux. I am not sure what I would have done if Weasley had not appeared."

Harry's gaze didn't waver. "I'm not sure what we would have done without that sword. That horcrux was destroying us. It was the only one we'd found up to that point, and we didn't know how to destroy it. The sword came…you gave it to me…at just the right time. All these years I've regretted never having been able to thank you for that. So…thank you."

Severus nodded again, acknowledging Harry's statement, then changed the subject.

"If I may…" he began, glancing at Hermione who had just poured herself more tea and was watching them. "The conversation you were having a moment ago, about going on holiday—why isn't Ginny going along?"

Harry had been reaching for a biscuit and his hand stalled in midair. Hermione slowly put down her teacup and Minerva and Hagrid stopped discussing the dwindling thestral herd. All eyes were on Harry, waiting for his response.

"We never even considered it," he answered, a puzzled look in his eyes. He glanced over at Hermione, then back at Severus. "I suppose we all just assumed it would be too much for her—the floo travel, being away from home, all the people…"

"Keeping an eye on her at the seaside, dealing with her outbursts or odd behavior with all those other witches and wizards around…" Severus raised an eyebrow in query and Harry bristled slightly.

"I take it you think we're being selfish not to include her? You do understand that I've offered to stay home with her, don't you?"

"I'm not suggesting that you—or any of your family—are being deliberately selfish," answered Severus as he refreshed his tea, pouring piping hot water over fresh leaves. "I'm simply challenging you to examine your motives. You think, by not including Ginny in your family travels, that you are protecting her, shielding her, perhaps, from the outside world, keeping her from further harm. Yes?"

"Of course," answered Harry. "That's part of it, yes." He looked at Severus, narrowing his eyes. "But you have to remember that Ginny isn't just anyone. She's famous—famous for being a Potter, for being a Weasley, for being a professional Quidditch player. She'd be recognized almost anywhere we'd go."

"And?" asked Severus, looking at Harry as he stirred cream into his tea.

"And…" began Harry. His voice trailed off as he looked helplessly at Hermione.

"She wouldn't want people to see her like that." Hermione's voice was soft and she reached over and squeezed Harry's hand.

"Oh?" asked Severus. "So if I asked her today if she would like to go on holiday at the Spanish coast, she'd say she doesn't want people to see her…like that."

"You know what she means," said Harry tiredly. He caught Severus' eyes and stated more confidently. "But you think we're wrong. I'm listening. Go on—explain."

Severus placed his teacup on its saucer and rotated it slightly as he considered his answer. Finally, he looked up at Harry. Minerva stood and politely excused herself, calling for Hagrid to come with her and show her the thestral herd, but Hermione remained where she was sitting, waiting for Severus to speak.

"Harry," he said gently, his tone of voice so unlike the Severus Snape of Harry and Hermione's Hogwarts days that Harry wondered how much of Stephen Squires would remain in Severus once he had full control of his lost memories and hoped that a good portion would. "Ginny is not the same person that flew for the Harpies or gave birth to your children. She's not the same person you married. She isn't the same person that went to school here either. Brain injuries are complicated; the brain is complicated." Harry's face had taken on a certain look, a look Severus had seen many times in the years he'd been researching memory loss and brain trauma.

"I know all about the brain, Severus," said Harry. "Listen, I do appreciate what you're doing…what you're trying to do…but we've heard this all before…"

"Let me finish—please," asked Severus. "I don't think you've heard what I'm about to say."

Harry forced himself to relax in his chair. He leaned back and loosened his death grip on his teacup. Hermione chose a biscuit from the serving plate and placed it on his napkin.

"Harry, you need to let go of the Ginny you knew before the accident…"

"I have let her go!" protested Harry, interrupting Severus and rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly and he squeezed back, harder than he had intended.

"Again, let me finish. Please." The patience Severus was exhibiting both surprised and calmed Harry. He sighed and picked up his tea, taking a long drink and then looking back at Severus.

"As I was saying, you need to let go of the Ginny you knew before the accident. She will never be that person again. She may never be able to be a mother to your children, or a wife to you."

"I know that." Harry's voice was soft. "It doesn't make it easier to accept, but I do know that."

"But—and this is the part I don't think you've heard before, Harry—but that doesn't mean that Ginny can't get better. She is going to have to relearn nearly everything—how to make a cake, how to fly a broom, how to take care of a child, how to swim." He paused, took a deep breath. "The brain is incredibly complex. It will try to heal, but in order for Ginny to get better, she must have new experiences. She cannot learn to swim in the den of the Burrow, Harry."

"it's a metaphor, right?" asked Harry, thoughtfully regarding the tea leaves in his cup. He tilted it, looking, as he always did after finishing a cup, for the grim.

"Learning to swim?" asked Severus, smiling.

Harry looked up at the ceiling in the Great Hall. The sky was a deep cerulean blue today, with lazy white clouds grazing comfortably in it. It looked like a child's drawing.

"Yeah," said Harry. "You're saying I have to let her go, aren't you? Stop hoping the old memories, the old Ginny, will come back and let her back into the world to start all over again."

Severus was quiet for a moment. Hermione looked resolutely at Severus, her eyes beginning to glitter with unshed tears.

"If you love her, yes," answered Severus.

"If you love something, set it free…" began Harry.

Severus scoffed.

"I'm afraid that saying has only partial relevance when it comes to brain injuries, Harry," he said. "What I'm telling you is this—Ginny has the capacity to learn. Consider last night at the Burrow—she was not able to tell us how many eggs she used in the cake but she knew how many. She was able to show us by miming the process of breaking the eggs into the bowl. You need to learn to think outside the box with Ginny…" He paused, considering their puzzled expressions. "Muggle saying," he explained. "It means to look at something from a new perspective—unconventionally."

"I can't just give up on her," said Harry, his voice plaintive. Severus had not seen Harry like this in the short time he'd been back in the Wizarding World. "I love her…"

"Harry." Severus' voice commanded Harry's attention and he resolutely looked up. "I am not asking you to give up on Ginny. No one is asking that. No, I'd suggest that you help her get better because you do love her. But I caution you now that love grows on top of many other emotions and experiences, and those emotions and experiences may be missing or different with Ginny. I know no easy way to say this Harry—divorce is very common among patients with brain injuries."

"I have no plans to divorce my wife," said Harry flatly. He looked up at Severus, his eyes direct but not cold. "You probably don't remember, Severus, but divorce isn't common in the Wizarding World."

"Which may explain why my mother stayed with my alcoholic, verbally abusive father," said Severus tightly. His memory restoration session the day before with a young Lily asking him how things were at home had brought some of the more unpleasant aspects of his childhood to the surface.

Harry's face had taken on a pained expression. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "That's not what I…"

"I know," said Severus. He paused, considering how to continue down this very difficult line. "Harry, I am not advocating that you set your wife free in the world to develop new relationships while you start dating other women. I am simply trying to be realistic and to spare you from… surprises… down the road. While I have specialized in Alzheimer's and senior dementia these past seven years, I started my research five years before that with brain trauma patients, like Ginny. In the Alzheimer's wards, I have seen new relationships form between people who have been married to others for nearly fifty years."

"You don't paint a very uplifting picture," said Harry darkly.

"I'm pragmatic. One has to be in this profession. You wondered if I could help Ginny. I think I can. But I want to make it very clear to you that helping Ginny might not mean restoring her to be a mother to your children and a wife to you again. I cannot put it any more plainly than that."

Harry was quiet for a very long time. Hermione did not let go of his hand. Finally, he blinked his eyes several times then looked up at Severus.

"Thanks. I appreciate your candor, as hard as it is to accept. I suppose when I get right down to it, I want Ginny to have a better life." His voice shook slightly as he spoke. He turned to Hermione. "Well, let's go tell Molly that Ginny's going with us to Playa de Magico."

Hermione leaned in to hug Harry, giving Severus a grateful smile over her friend's shoulder.

/

Packing occupied most of the next day, with even more activity now that Ginny was going with them. The children seemed happy, if a bit confused, and Lily peppered Harry with questions. Where would Mom sleep? Would she wear her nightgown to bed as she did when she lived with them or her two piece pajamas like she wore at the Burrow?

Severus had gone in to work again in the morning, but had asked to meet Harry and Molly in the evening to discuss some ideas he had about Ginny and the coming holiday. Harry, for his part, wanted to speak to Severus privately before his first introduction to the Hogwarts Board of Governors, which would happen while they were away in Spain. He also needed to make sure Severus could apparate. He felt like a nervous father, sending his first son off to Hogwarts, leaving him alone to face the magical world.

Anna had, of course, been invited on holiday with them, but Severus has declined, noting that it was the last full week he'd have with her before she set off to Hogwarts, leaving him to rattle around all by himself in his big house. Harry countered that it was hardly big, being more like a cozy cottage than a rambling mansion, but had told Severus that he certainly understood. Maybe next year, he had suggested, they could all go together, with the Snapes joining the Weasleys for the traditional holiday in Spain.

Stuart moved Severus' Friday session back to four o'clock, and Harry arranged to meet Severus at one o'clock for lunch in London. Severus named a pub close to his place of employment, and Hermione mapped it out for Harry and printed out directions. While Harry, having grown up in a Muggle household, was comfortable with Muggle transportation, money and basic technology, he'd gotten lost so often in London when left to his own devices that his friends and family routinely drew out maps for him now.

Severus was already at the pub when Harry arrived, sitting in a quiet corner with a pint and thumbing his smart-phone. He had on a pair of dark-rimmed reading glasses. He looked every bit a Muggle in this environment, but Harry knew that Severus' wand was somewhere on him now and that before the new term was out there would be a potions lab in his house and he'd be haggling with the apothecaries in Diagon Alley over ingredient prices. "Highway Robbery!" he'd say, after learning that armadillo bile was three times the price he remembered it being. "Armadillos have taken over the American South and Midwest! Surely the price should have gone down!" And there would be explosions and mishaps as Severus combined Muggle chemicals with traditional wizarding potions ingredients, and Muggle test tubes would be drying on the rack next to hand-blown potions vials.

Harry ordered a pint at the bar then joined Severus, settling into the booth and sliding his ale across the uneven surface of the old wooden table.

"The meat pies are particularly good here," said Severus. "And the treacle tart."

"I love treacle tart," said Harry idly. He had picked up a menu and was studying it. Severus pocketed his phone, pushed his glasses up on top of his head and took a long sip of his drink.

They chatted while they waited for their food, discussing Severus' announcement to his employer that morning that he would be taking a sabbatical, and Harry's continuing insecurities about how successful he would be as a Hogwarts professor. When their food arrived, Harry cast a non-verbal Muffliato and launched into the reason he'd wanted to confer with Severus in the first place—Lucius Malfoy and the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

"I am not surprised that the man has ulterior motives," Severus said after listening to Harry. "I assume he expects to be able to control me—and my decisions—on the board."

Harry placed his fork on his plate and swallowed. "Control you, yes," he said, "but not necessarily on the board, Severus. I'd suggest that he wants to keep you close instead. By arranging this position for you, he's elevated you in status. He's done something very specific for you and everyone will know it. In short, he's either paid you back for something and you're even now or you owe him one, Severus."

Severus considered this for a moment, eyes focused on something off in the distance as he struggled to work with the implications of this statement.

"It's different in the Muggle world," said Harry. He pushed potatoes around on his plate, soaking them in the gravy swimming there. "At least in Muggle Britain. Here," he drew his fork in an arc, indicating the pub around him and by extension, the Muggle world to which it belonged. Potatoes flew off the end of his fork and Severus frowned. "Sorry," said Harry, replacing his fork, but he looked much more amused than apologetic. "What I mean is that Muggles are grateful when someone helps them out, pushes their resume to the top of the stack or gives them a heads up that there's going to be a vacancy somewhere, but wizards, especially wizards of higher status like Malfoy, are very deliberate about these things and are always planning three or four steps ahead."

Severus was dabbing at his shirt with a wet napkin and Harry realized that the potatoes must have landed there.

"Here—let me," he said, doing a wandless, non-verbal Scourgify. The shirt was immaculate again and Severus dropped the napkin, examining it then looking up at Harry with eyes narrowed.

"Don't tell on me," said Harry. "Technically, we're not supposed to do magic in front of Muggles…"

"Harry, I'm aware by now that not every witch or wizard can do magic without a wand. You elect to let me see you but hide it from others. Why is that?

Harry shrugged, picked up his pint glass and downed the dregs of his drink. "Just a feeling, really," he answered as he leaned back slightly in his seat and regarded Severus. "But I think you're going to find yourself in a similar situation—when you start immersing yourself back in our world."

Severus dropped his voice a notch. "I felt the spell you put up earlier. What was it?"

Harry grinned. "One of yours—Muffliato. It muffles the sound in a confined area so you can't be overhead. Dead useful."

"What do you mean—one of mine?"

"Literally, one of yours. You created a number of spells yourself, some while you were a student at Hogwarts." Harry leaned in. "Do you remember…the Half-blood Prince?"

Severus closed his eyes as the familiar name washed over him. Yes, he did remember. The memories of his years at Hogwarts, of his life at home on Spinner's End, all of those were starting to seat themselves in his mind, anchoring to other memories before and after them. He wondered how long he'd have to have the memories back, how many times he'd have to sort through them like lost artifacts, before they would feel like family members in his brain instead of like houseguests.

"It is a name—a moniker—I used for myself. Prince was my mother's name. My father was a Muggle."

Harry nodded. "When I was a sixth-year, I had your old Potions textbook. But I didn't know it was yours—it was inscribed 'Property of the Half-blood Prince' and it was full of spells and notes and alterations to the potions instructions—all in your handwriting. I tried a lot of the potions instructions and they were brilliant." He paused, then drove on. "I also tried out some of the spells, some like Muffliato have become pretty widespread today."

Severus gathered that others were not so useful. He didn't ask Harry to continue. The man was obviously uncomfortable.

"Where is this book now?" he asked instead, wondering if having it would help him tie even more of his past together.

"Lost," said Harry, his voice full of more regret than Severus thought should be accorded a book.

"Lost?" he asked. "Care to explain?"

Harry shrugged. "There was a fire during the Final Battle. It gutted one of the manifestations of the Room of Requirement. That's where I had hidden the book."

Severus leaned back and stared at Harry Potter for a long moment. There was another story here but he let it go for the moment, knowing that there would be a large number of these stories as he worked to understand the man he used to be.

"We've digressed from our original topic," he said instead. "Lucius Malfoy."

Harry nodded and leaned in, more comfortable with this topic of conversation than with the previous one. Retired from the Auror Corps or not, his mind still worked like an Auror's, strategically fitting details together, rearranging and reconnecting them until they led to a logical conclusion.

"I'm suggesting that Lucius gave you this position for a reason. He either wants to be even with you so he is no longer beholden to you, or he wants you to be beholden to him. The problem is, I don't know which one it is and my guess is that you don't either."

Severus shook his head slightly. "I am beginning to recall much from those last few years before I lost my memory," he said. "I believe my position with the Dark Lord was different than his." He looked at Harry, trying to find the words to express this gut feeling he had. "Higher…more trusted, I believe," he finished. Oddly, saying this made his stomach feel hard and tight, like he had eaten too much at one sitting.

"You were his spy inside Hogwarts, or so he thought at least," supplied Harry. "But during that last year, while you were headmaster at Hogwarts, Voldemort based his operations out of Malfoy Manor. He used Draco, had given him the task of killing Dumbledore the year before. Lucius and Narcissa lived in constant fear…"

"As did I," interrupted Severus, his voice hard.

"I'm not trying to belittle what you went through," said Harry. His own voice was calm. He met Severus' eyes. "Listen, these are difficult waters to tread. There's no way we can sort this out without dredging up things that frankly should stay just where they are—undisturbed. They'll be time enough in the coming months to sit over a beer or two or four and work through it all. For now, let's focus on Lucius' motives for putting you on the Board of Governors. I think he's trying to even things out, frankly. He doesn't know what you remember and what you don't, but I'm betting that he wants you close to him if you do realize what he owes you." Harry fiddled with his spoon. "As if making the Unbreakable Vow with his wife wasn't enough—or saving his son after you killed Dumbledore…"

Severus stared at Harry a moment. He had a brief flash of something, of joining hands with Narcissa Malfoy, of vowing to help Draco accomplish the goal the Dark Lord had set for him. As for killing Dumbledore, that particular memory had come to him two nights before in his dreams. He pushed it back down where he'd buried it, wanting to be somewhere alone when he allowed it to surface again. There would be plenty of time next week, when Harry and the Weasleys would be away on holiday.

"I will do what I can to exhibit the appropriate amount—and kind—of gratitude to Lucius," said Severus.

"Good," said Harry. "I think it should come naturally to you, after a time, anyway. Remember that your name was totally cleared after the War. He spent time in Azkaban. You may both be free men today, but wizarding society looks at you as a war hero and at Lucius as a reformed Death Eater."

"I dislike that name," said Severus. "I think I always have."

"Me too," answered Harry, thinking for a moment of the Resurrection Stone and the brief time he'd walked with his parents, and Sirius, and Remus. They sat quietly for another long moment, then Harry spoke up again.

"Severus, there's something else we should discuss—we don't have a lot of time now, but I'll bring it up so you can consider it before I get back from Spain."

"Go on," said Severus. He checked his watch. Two thirty in the afternoon—they'd have to head back to his house in Surrey soon if he was going to make his four o'clock appointment with Stuart.

Harry saw him check his watch. "Don't worry about the time," he said. "I'll side-along apparate you to the gates of Hogwarts when we're ready. I wanted to work with you on apparition, anyway…"

Severus nodded and tried to let go of his long-engrained muggle worry about time.

"It's about the Board of Governors position. You probably noticed that Minerva perked up quite a bit when it came up with Lucius." Severus nodded. He'd definitely picked up that she was more than delighted. "Well, she's more than just happy for you. She's going to retire at the end of this school year and the Board will choose the new headmaster of headmistress. She's held on so many years because she's wanted to accomplish a few things before she retires—some things that she believes will make Hogwarts a better school. She's managed to get a couple items on her agenda pushed through, but some others have been blocked by the board—specifically, by old Arturis. He was one of the ones that promoted an increased attention to physical education and helped establish the swimming team. Seems that Dumstrang was pulling ahead of Hogwarts in that area." He laughed. "Minerva was thrilled about that, but then he blocked her move to introduce something similar for fine arts—music, for example, and drawing, photography, writing… He said that the responsibility for instilling an appreciation for the fine arts lies solely with the family."

"That's ridiculous," protested Severus. "How can a child's mind develop fully…?"

Harry cut him off. "Hogwarts students study the History of Magic but get no world history, no European history, no ancient history…"

Severus' face was beginning to color. Harry held up a hand.

"Severus, I don't think this would have bothered you twenty years ago."

Severus closed his mouth. He'd opened it, ready to voice another protest. He waited a moment, composing himself.

"You are correct. Twenty years ago, it was all that I knew. But it's different now, I'm different now. I could not in good conscience sit on the Board of Governors and not introduce reform."

"You might be considered a rebel," said Harry. "The Board is mainly made up of old men from pureblood families."

Severus smiled then, a crooked, devious smile that screamed "Snape" and once again transported Harry to those days of sitting in detention, scrubbing cauldrons.

"But Mr. Potter, you forget with whom you're speaking…"

Harry grinned. "Minerva is going to die happy, isn't she?"

"We shall see," said Severus. He raised his hand and signaled the waitress, reaching for his wallet and pushing the crumpled bills Harry pulled from his pocket back at him.

"My treat today," he said. "Save your money for your holiday."

Harry smiled his thanks, mentally deciding to use the money on a ridiculous vacation souvenir for Severus. 'The Boy-who-Lived Went to Spain and All I Got was this Stupid T-shirt.'

"What?" asked Severus, noticing Harry's smile, as they walked out of the pub.

"Nothing," answered Harry, then, after a pause added. "It's just…what's your shirt size?"

Severus stared at Harry as he followed him around the corner and into an alley.

"I don't wear t-shirts," he said.

But Harry smiled, placed Severus' hand on his upper arm and said "Hang on." Moments later they were at the gates of Hogwarts and Severus Snape grabbed onto the bars as he grabbed his stomach, wishing he hadn't eaten quite such a large lunch.

Apparition was much better, Severus now remembered, when done under one's own power, with deliberation and determination. Harry had drawn two rough circles in the grass outside the gates of Hogwarts after apparating them both from the alley by the pub and had demonstrated apparition from one circle to the other. Severus was not surprised to see him vanish and reappear—he clearly remembered apparating, after all—but he was very surprised that Harry did it without the customary "crack" that alerted magical folk nearby that someone had appeared—or disappeared.

Harry lectured at Severus about the "three Ds" and the danger of splinching (how could one leave one's eyebrows behind anyway? What kind of example was that? Why not warn him with something dire like a misplaced head or reproductive organs?) and cautioned that one could not apparate inside the grounds of Hogwarts. Severus finally sighed in resignation, turned on the spot and with a gentle crack disappeared then reappeared on the other side of Harry. Then did it again. And again. Harry pivoted around in place, following the subtle cracks that sounded more like the whooshes or air being displaced.

"Riiiight," said Harry, drawing out the word and shaking his head slowly. "You could have told me you remembered." Severus rolled his eyes, shook his head and opened the gates. "As much as I'd like to pop back and forth around you for the next hour, I'd rather go in and use the loo."

The session with Stuart went as had most of the others. A memory—of Snape searching through Sirius' old bedroom at Grimmauld Place and finding the letter Lily had written—had been restored and Snape had, as usual, come out of it in a melancholic mood, uncommunicative and brooding. He'd disappeared from the infirmary as soon as Poppy turned her back.

"Where did Severus go?" asked Harry, popping into the infirmary after his longer-than-anticipated meeting with Minerva. They'd been going over his first week of lesson plans and Minerva had offered solid advice and feedback. More spell work and less lecturing the first week. Engage the students, especially the first and second years. Challenge the older students immediately. Tread carefully in the Gryffindor/Slytherin classes—never show preference for one house over the other, allow the students to choose their own partners sometimes but other times pair them up randomly.

"He slipped out of here thirty minutes ago," replied Poppy. She was standing in front of a supply cabinet on her tiptoes, taking inventory. "I'd look for him outside, Harry. He was visibly upset—he probably went out to burn off some excess energy."

But Severus was waiting for Harry at the bottom of the great stairs. He was standing with his arms folded in front of himself, looking at the four hourglasses and their jewels. The jewels were all in the top half of the hourglasses, suspended there by magic. Severus looked up as Harry started down the marble staircase.

"I need a girlfriend," he said as soon as Harry was within range to hear him. "I have been pining after your mother most of my life and it isn't healthy."

Harry froze, looking down at Severus in relative shock.

"OK," he said at length. "Um, I've not been in the dating scene for a long time…"

"I know how to ask a woman out on a date," snapped Snape. "I just need to meet some...women…witches."

Harry suddenly understood.

"You want to date witches," he said.

Snape stared up at him. They were separated by nearly 20 stairs and their voices echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

"I've never dated wizards," he dead-panned. "So yes, witches."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Witches as opposed to Muggle women," he said, feigning exasperation. "Not as opposed to magical…men."

"So you'll help me?" asked Severus as Harry continued down the stairs.

Harry sighed. "Severus, you had a half-dozen marriage proposals a couple days ago by owl post when news of your survival hit The Prophet. You haven't even opened all your mail yet—there were at least forty new letters the morning! Damn owls have virtually painted my porch railing if you know what I mean. I don't think you'll need my help in finding women to date." He was having some trouble assimilating the fact that he was talking about dating with Severus Snape, despite this…friendship…yes, it felt quite a bit like a friendship…that they'd developed the past week.

Had it only been a week?

"Still," said Severus as Harry reached the bottom stair and they fell in line with each other and walked toward the castle doors, "it will be of some…comfort…to me to have assistance in this endeavor. Perhaps you know of someone…?"

"How old?" asked Harry, sighing in resignation. He knew a lot of someones, from Ministry employees to Quidditch players to extended family—Angelina had an aunt, for example, that sometimes came to the Burrow. "Any specific requirements—height? Hair color? Education? House affiliation?

Severus eyed him speculatively. "Let me think about it while you're on holiday," he said.

Harry sighed exaggeratedly, feeling as much relief as he was feigning. "A reprieve," he said, smiling.

They walked quietly together for a few minutes and then Harry said quietly, almost to himself, "I have that photo, if you'd like to see it again."

Severus had been walking with his arms clasped behind him, eyes trained on the winged boars of the great gates as they approached them. He'd been meaning to ask where the castle's name had originated. He continued walking silently, thinking about Harry's offer, considering.

"No, I don't think so," he said at length. He looked over at Harry as if gauging to determine if Harry was upset by his answer. Harry's expression was neutral, if thoughtful. "I found several photos of your mother in my quarters; but photos or not, I do not think that I can ever forget her. That one…" he paused, gave a deep sigh. "I defaced that one. It is a photo of your family in happy times and I selfishly made it mine."

"That memory—the one you got back today—was painful," said Harry. "It…touched me. More than the others."

Severus nodded, acknowledging the pain, but didn't react otherwise. The two men waved to Hagrid who was turning over a plot in front of his cabin.

"How is it that you have that photo?" asked Severus at length.

"I found the half you…discarded…in Sirius' bedroom at Grimmauld Place. We—Hermione, Ron and I—we stayed there for a bit when we were hunting down the horcruxes. And the other half—the half you kept—was face down underneath your Pensieve in your office. I found it when I went back to your office to view the memories you gave me."

"And you've kept both pieces, all these years," commented Severus.

Harry laughed. "No, not really," he said. "I got them back recently."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"They were in your tomb," said Harry. "I buried them with your robes and wand and boots."

Severus stopped walking and Harry, a step or two ahead, turned and faced him.

"Both halves?" asked Severus, his voice higher-pitched than normal.

"Both halves," answered Harry. He paused, then raised his eyes to Severus.' "Because everything you did for her, you ultimately did for me, didn't you?"

The two men stood looking at each other for a moment that stretched on, but not uncomfortably so. Finally, Severus nodded incrementally. Harry's face registered the smallest hint of a smile.

"I think that chapter is closed, Severus," he said. "We're on even ground now. Come on, let's go clear out those owls and find you a girlfriend."

/

On Wednesday of the following week, Harry was shoulders deep in the Mediterranean, serving as a make-shift diving board for young Potters and Weasleys of all shapes and sizes. The red-headed Weasleys, all five of his brothers-in-law, in fact, seldom allowed the kids on their shoulders as their fair skin burned so easily, despite copious application of Madam Ulna's UV Blocker and Freckle Restorative Cream.

"Hey! No sitting on my head!" he exclaimed as Hugo wobbled above him. They had rented a large beach house surrounded by a group of private Wizarding cabins. The stretch of sand just outside their cluster of cabins was dotted with umbrellas, towels, lounges, beach toys and even a Muggle golf cart that Arthur used to shuttle people and belongings from the cabins to the beach. He was sitting in it now, Ginny beside him. She had on a wide-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses and was holding an ice cream cone.

The vacation was already going by too quickly. Days in the sand and the water with the kids, evenings on the veranda of the big house, rattan fan blades moving the balmy air around, watching the older children play pick-up Quidditch over the ocean while the adults relaxed, played cards and talked, sipping iced tea or fruit and rum concoctions or bottled ale while the sun went down and the stars took to the sky.

Teddy Lupin was there, as he always was. He was a man now, 22 years old, and while all of his friends called him Ted, family was another thing altogether. He'd always be Teddy to Harry and to the Weasleys. He'd grown up as an adopted Weasley, after all, living with his grandmother Andromeda but spending lots of time with Harry, and by extension, the Weasley family. He sat with the adults on the veranda and drank ale from a bottle and watched the younger children play Quidditch, already reminiscing about his days at Hogwarts as his Godfather's generation so often did.

On Wednesday night, Teddy settled on the end of the all-weather sofa beside Ginny. She was snuggled up next to Harry, already sleeping, her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry had an arm around her and he knew that his children, when they had run out of the house fifteen minutes ago, were comforted by this picture of normalcy, no matter that it didn't feel normal at all to Harry.

"Some week you've had, Harry," said Teddy. He'd dropped the "Uncle" a couple of years ago, on his own. "What's Snape like, anyway?"

"Professor Snape," said Harry automatically. Ron laughed so hard his ale ran out of his nose and Charlie, who'd been able to join them this year, slapped his brother on the back.

"Such a child," he said, snorting himself.

"Professor Snape, then," laughed Teddy. "He didn't seem at all like I'd imagined. Just seemed like a normal old bloke."

"He won't like that 'old' part," replied Harry, grinning. "He just found out that he's sixty years old and he thought he was in his late 40s, maybe 50. That had to be a shocker."

"But he also found out that he's likely to live well past 100," said Hermione. "That should have tempered the blow."

Harry shrugged. "He's definitely not 'just a normal old bloke.'"

"It's as if all the sharp and rough edges Severus always had have been sanded down," said Arthur. "But he's essentially the same underneath. Smart—brilliant, really—Albus always said he had the mind of a quiet genius. Honorable. Wary. The man never trusted easily."

"The sign of one who's learned not to trust," commented Teddy, sagely. "What's he going to do now that he's got his magic back and is starting to remember his old life?"

"I'd like to see him back at Hogwarts teaching Potions," said George, rolling his shoulders a bit to irritate his wife. He was sitting on the stairs, a step below Angelina, and leaning back against her. "Put Fred through a little of what we had to suffer…"

Angelina slapped him playfully on the side of the head and rolled her eyes.

"Snape doesn't deserve Fred," she said, shuddering.

"He won't be going back to teach at Hogwarts," said Harry. "He's been appointed to the Board of Governors—didn't Arthur and Molly tell you?"

All heads swiveled to stare at Harry. The few who already knew—Ron, Hermione, Arthur, Molly—looked inordinately pleased at the appointment. The rest looked gobsmacked.

"But…but…he's practically a Muggle," breathed Victoire, leaning in from her spot on the arm of the sofa beside Teddy.

"Though he's a former Headmaster," said her father, figuratively weighing these two contrasting pieces of information.

"I bet Professor McGonagall is…"

"Thrilled," put in Harry, completing his godson's sentence for him. "The Board of Governors has been her bane these past twenty-odd years. She's always had a soft-spot for Severus, I think, and she really likes the man he's become…" He paused, appearing to consider something a moment. Then he laughed. "Nah…I don't think that's what he had in mind.."

"What, Harry?" asked Hermione. She put down the book she was reading—Introducing Magical Children to the Birds and the Bees in Post-War UK—and eyed him speculatively.

Harry grinned. "He told me he'd like to meet some witches and I was thinking…"

"Ewwwwww! No! My ears! I mean my ear!" George grabbed the sides of his head with his hands and managed to look ill. "I did not just hear you thinking about setting up Snape and McGonagall!"

Harry laughed along with his family and they continued bantering though the conversation eventually veered away from Severus Snape's love life and back toward the Hogwarts Board of Governors. While opinions differed on whether Severus was an appropriate choice to fill the vacancy, all were unanimous in thinking that Lucius Malfoy had no idea what he was getting himself into.

/

In northern Scotland, on Wednesday afternoon, Severus Snape had tea with Professor McGonagall in the Headmistresses' office in Hogwarts Castle. He had spent Monday packing up his Muggle office for his planned six-month sabbatical and on Tuesday had taken Anna to Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park where they watched the bird lady and Anna sung songs from Mary Poppins then took him by the hand and pulled him along the wide walkways toward the round pond where the raucous swans begged for food and a small squirrel climbed his leg and snatched a biscuit out of his hand.

Today Anna was with her nanny on this, their last week together, and Severus had apparated directly to just outside of Hogwarts, to his great satisfaction rending the air with only the smallest of cracks, and had spent several hours in his old dungeon quarters packing his possessions into charmed boxes that weighed practically nothing when you picked them up. With the help of a house elf which had appeared almost as soon as he mused aloud "Now how am I going to get all of this home?", the boxes were transported back to his home in Surrey. He filled several more crates with items he no longer wanted or needed—a half dozen Slytherin school ties, an intricate tobacco pipe, some old hair gel that made his fingers feel slimy, several pairs of very uncomfortable looking shoes and a stack of Potions journals from the 1970s. At the back of the closet near the front door he discovered his Death Eater robes and mask and promptly incinerated them with a spell he didn't recall knowing, but it turned the repulsive items into ash leaving only a smudge on the floor where the ashes fell. He looked at the smudge with narrowed eyes then spat on it and rubbed the spittle into the ash with his shoe. He then removed the shoes, incinerated them too and put on a comfortable pair of green house slippers that he found beside the bed.

He was wearing the house shoes when he joined Minerva for tea an hour later, but though she glanced at them as he entered her office, she didn't comment.

She watched him shrewdly as they visited and soon steered the conversation to the philosophy of education and to Severus' opinions of other British public and private institutions of learning. He discussed his years at University after he was established in the Muggle World as Stephen Squires, Anna's time at her public primary and their forages into special schools for her pursuit of the harp.

By the time the tea was gone and they'd both eaten far too many scones, Minerva was sure she had her champion. Oh, Severus was essentially the same man she had known as a colleague for nearly fifteen years, but freed from the shackles of the vow he had made to Albus and the tragic mistake he'd made as a young man, he was no longer angry. The lack of active anger, she knew, was the big difference, and what a difference it made. The wry sarcasm and sharp wit served as biting needles to a man consumed by anger and pain, but were no more than annoying barbs from a moody, intelligent scholar. Severus Snape was a man who solved problems, driven to succeed by inner demons, still desiring, forty plus years after his father died, to prove himself worthy.

"We have ample space here," she said as she escorted him from her office and down to the castle doors. "And the acoustics are phenomenal…." She walked with him outside and indicated the view of the lake, the parapets of the castle, the forest spread out below them. "And the views! These grounds are an artist's Mecca."

"You don't need to convince me," said Severus as he turned and looked up at the façade of the castle. He nodded at her and thanked her for the tea, then paused and added "Minerva if you could only accomplish one thing this coming year—make one significant change before you retire in July—what would it be?"

Minerva pursed her lips, thinking as she gazed again at the magnificent view before her. Art, music, literature, required mathematics, world history outside of the magical world…what would she ask?

"The houses are still too divided, even after all these years," she said at last, leaving all her other dreams in the dust in the face of practical reality. "I would mix the classes from first year forward. I have suggested it time and again…"

Severus smiled, wondering how his life here at Hogwarts would have been different if the Marauders had had less "together" time. He reached out and took Minerva's hand and brought it up to his mouth, bestowing a gallant kiss on her knuckles.

"An excellent choice, Minerva," he said, already forming the arguments in his mind.

As Severus strode across the grounds toward the gates, his simple black robes billowing out behind him in a hauntingly familiar way, Minerva walked into the castle and paused at the doors of the Great Hall, looking in at the four long tables, the house colors, the traditional banners.

It had to be done, so why not by Severus Snape? She had known few people in her life in which all the traits of the founders—the ambition of the snakes, the courage of the lions, the loyalty of the badgers, the intelligence of the eagles—were so ingrained. She hurried up the stairs—she had a report for tomorrow's Governors meeting to prepare and she wanted to get her wording just right.

/

On Friday morning, Harry was nursing a sprained ankle and a rather severe sea anemone sting. Magic was all good and wonderful, not to mention extremely useful, but no one in his extended family had healer training. Hermione and Molly were really the best at it, and they'd done a good job neutralizing the venom from the sting and helping to reduce the swelling with an orange salve, but it was still extremely sore. Lily, Rose, Hermione and Ginny had walked on down to the ocean to search for shells while Harry sat on the veranda, foot bound and resting on a chair, holding that morning's Daily Prophet which the resort provided as a courtesy to its British guests.

Laughter from the shore distracted him and he looked up to see Lily and Ginny standing in the water, the waves about their ankles. He stared a long time at his wife, willing himself not to wish he had more, not to want so deeply the partner…the friend…the lover…that Ginny had been. From this distance, it was easy to pretend that this was the Ginny that two summers ago had taken Lily on a broom ride over the ocean and had helped bury Harry up to his neck in the sand. This week had been a good one for Ginny, and for the children, creating that illusion of normalcy they hadn't had for more than a year. He'd learned this week that the behavior Ginny demonstrated that he'd thought of as "childlike" was really not childlike at all. Rather, it was tentative, as if she were getting a feel for an environment that was foreign to her. She did seem to be drawn to Harry, to like him in a shy sort of way, but she would cuddle up to Arthur or Molly the same way she would with him—like a child with her parent.

"She seems stronger here than at the Burrow." Harry looked up to find Charlie watching him, and nodded his head. Charlie was the only Weasley that didn't live in the UK, and they saw him less frequently than the rest of the family. Still, he visited home every couple months, and had taken a leave from work early last summer when Ginny had been hurt.

"How's the foot doing?" asked Charlie, walking up the stairs and sitting down on the sofa next to his brother-in-law.

Harry wiggled his toes experimentally.

"Sore, but I probably could walk on it by now. However, Hermione read me the riot act and warned me to stay off of it for 24 hours. Gave me the 'sprains are worse than breaks' lecture."

Charlie grinned. He had never married and produced grandchildren for Molly and Arthur, but he appeared to be happy with his job in Romania. Harry and Hermione privately thought he had more to keep him happy in Romania than dragons, but Charlie wasn't sharing and they didn't press the matter. He sat quietly next to Harry a few minutes, both of them watching as Hermione took one of Ginny's hands and Lily the other and they continued walking in the waves, stopping occasionally to stoop and pick up a shell.

"You've had a busy month, I hear," said Charlie finally. "I bet Minerva did a little victory dance when she got you to sign that contract. Are you looking forward to teaching?"

"Yeah, I am," answered Harry. "It's a big change but it was time. I need to be there for the kids now that Ginny…" His voice caught and he trailed off. "Sorry, emotions getting all wonky on me lately."

"Don't apologize. I can't imagine going through what you've been through already with her. And now this thing with Snape—that must have come out of the blue."

"It did," admitted Harry. "I've always thought he was around somewhere, hiding in some old mansion making potions in the basement or sleeping in a coffin or something." They both laughed. "But to find this ordinary man, raising a daughter in Surrey of all places, and doing research on dementia and memory loss…"

"Sounds like fortuitous timing," said Charlie. "He's helped with Ginny I hear."

"It was his suggestion that we bring her on this trip," answered Harry. "He sat Molly and Arthur and me down on Friday night and explained all about the brain. You should have heard him—if he can figure out how to merge all he knows now about the brain with all he knew twenty years ago about potions, he'll be unstoppable—and I think he knows it. That gleam in his eye is scary. Anyway, he explained that the brain needs stimulation—new experiences. It may or may not be able to heal itself, but it can reroute things, use different parts of itself to learn and store new things or relearn old things."

"Yeah, Dad told me a bit about that," said Charlie. "He told me about Ginny making the cake—and how she counted out the eggs she had used for you all."

"Her brain isn't processing language the way it used to," explained Harry. He watched his wife for a long moment, her shape silhouetted against the sun. "Hell, it's not processing a lot of things the way it used to."

"Harry…"

"No, it's OK Charlie." He shot the man a sideways glance. Beside him, Charlie looked pensive. "We soldier on, right? I learned that a long time ago. Life knocks you down, you struggle to your feet and go on." He swallowed.

"Harry."

He looked over at Charlie again and the other man smiled at him, a smile tinged with sadness, Harry thought, but a smile nonetheless.

"You'll always be family, Harry. Remember that."

"That's what keeps me going," said Harry. He shot a grateful look at his brother-in-law, who grinned.

"Done with the paper yet?" asked Charlie, changing the subject and giving Harry a reprieve from his emotions.

"No, haven't even opened it yet," answered Harry, flipping open The Daily Prophet and glancing down at it.

"Whoa," said Charlie, making a grab for the paper. "Nothing like sliding into a new job with as little splash as possible." He spread the paper out in front of him and Harry leaned over to get a better look.

"Severus Snape Joins Hogwarts Board of Governors," read the main headline. It was followed by, "Snape Proposes Reforms in Inaugural Meeting" and "Read more. See 'Reforms' page 6A. Excerpt from Upcoming Unauthorized Biography of Severus Snape, page 7A. Has Snape Changed His Nose? Before and After Photographs, People Section Page 2B.

The photograph that accompanied the story showed Severus with the other six members of the Board of Governors. He stood out with his short hair but had managed to dig up some appropriately severe robes, probably those he'd worn as Headmaster. His turtleneck could barely be seen above the high collar of the robes. He and Lucius Malfoy were the only two members of the Board that looked younger than 90.

"Turn to page 6A," said Harry, fiddling with the paper. Charlie slapped his hand away and turned to the inside of the paper, smoothing it out again so that they both could read. They scanned the article together and Harry whistled softly.

"Did you see this part?" asked Charlie a minute later. He had read ahead nearly to the bottom of the article.

"The Hogwarts Board of Governors will attend the Welcoming Feast and Sorting Ceremony this year and will make periodic visits throughout the term to assess the potential positive and negative impact of the changes proposed by Snape."

"Hey, listen to this part," said Harry. "Snape also proposed that the quarterly Board of Governors meetings be moved from a quarterly to a monthly recurring schedule and insisted that the meeting end at 6 p.m. when the meeting dragged on after a scheduled 5 p.m. close, as he had to get home and make dinner for his daughter."

"I can't wait to meet him," said Charlie, folding up the paper and waving at his father who was driving toward them in the golf cart. "Might be worth coming back to England from time to time to see how he's shaking things up."

Harry agreed. He picked up the paper again as Charlie left to join Arthur and Molly in a game of shuffleboard, and opened it to page 7A, anxious to see if Rita Skeeter's unauthorized biography of Severus was as interesting of a read as his own had been.

"The size of his nose was only rivaled by the size of his ego," said childhood neighbor Petunia Evans Dursley. "And he wore women's clothing."

Harry grinned. Interesting read indeed. At 40 years old, he was no longer incensed at the tripe that Skeeter produced. He adjusted his foot on its pillow, noting that it was beginning to throb rather painfully and that he could no longer wiggle his toes, and settled back to read the paper.

"I cannot believe you did not seek medical attention," said Severus. He and Anna had flooed to the Potter cottage after lunch on Monday, the day after the Potters had returned from their seaside holiday, and the four children had been sent off to Zonko's and Honeydukes with Teddy who had popped in for a surprise visit right before lunch.

"I did—sort of," answered Harry as he limped from the kitchen to the sitting room. "Molly is really good with healing spells and home first aid."

"Molly Weasley can provide adequate first aid but not legitimate medical attention," said Severus.

"Hermione looked at it too," replied Harry, soundly guardedly hopeful.

"Sit down, take that sock off and put your foot up on the ottoman," ordered Severus, following Harry into the room and standing in front of him as Harry plopped down on the sofa.

"I'm getting there," said Harry, gingerly removing his white athletic sock and tossing it on the sofa beside him. It caught a bit as he pulled it off and he winced. He lifted his foot up as directed and settled it on the middle of the rectangular leather ottoman.

"Wow," he said. His foot and ankle were swollen and discolored. He tried to wiggle his toes but found it impossible. His toes were so swollen there was absolutely no wiggle room left.

"You're likely to end up with gangrene," muttered Severus, sitting down facing Harry on a straight-back chair. He grasped Harry's heel, rolled it to one side then the other then pressed softly against the flesh of the foot in several places.

"Tell me when it hurts," he said, prodding at the ankle now.

"Hurts!" cried Harry immediately, wincing and adding "That hurts too" when Severus pressed at the angry red area around the anemone sting. Severus didn't comment but Harry watched as his face tightened.

"What is it?" asked Harry, beginning to look worried.

"The sprain will heal on its own," answered Severus, adding "if you stay off of it for a day or two. But this," he prodded again at the wound and Harry winced, "this will need to be lanced, drained and packed. It is severely infected and abscessed." He creased his brows, looking upward, obviously thinking. Finally he gave a small smile. "My first inclination is to take you to a hospital and have this treated. However, they would likely admit you and put you on intravenous antibiotics…"

"Intraven…?" Harry looked puzzled. He was not an idiot when it came to Muggle life but he'd been away from Muggle medical care for nearly thirty years.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Insert a needle in your arm connected to a bag of fluids containing antibiotics to fight the infection."

"Oh. We don't do that in the wiz…"

"I am aware of that, Mr. Potter," answered Severus. "I am simply having…issues…accessing knowledge on cue. I have to cross-reference nearly every memory I access. IV treatment is the Muggle way of treating wounds such as this. As carting you off to a Muggle hospital is likely not an option…" He looked at Harry for confirmation and Harry vigorously shook his head in agreement. "…we will need to employ a magical solution." He frowned, once again pushing against the edge of the wound. Harry bit his lip and tried not to yelp like a baby.

Severus stood up.

"Do not move from that spot. I will floo to Hogwarts and get what is needed from Poppy."

What was needed from Poppy appeared to be a variety of potion bottles, a box of standard looking first aid supplies and unfortunately, a small rather lethal looking narrow silver knife.

Severus stepped out of the fireplace, immediately pulled another straight-backed chair up to the sofa and began laying out items on the ottoman from the box in his hands with surprising surgical precision.

"Poppy is away from the castle today," he reported as he surveyed his supplies. "Minerva offered to come and hold your hand but I told her you were a big boy and I'd give you a sucker when it was all over."

Harry shook his head. "Just give me a knut to bite on," he said. "Or something strong to drink."

Severus was busy taking Harry's pulse. "Slightly elevated," he said. "Are you nervous?"

"I wasn't until I saw that dagger," answered Harry.

"Dagger?" Severus smirked. "You mean this little knife? I wouldn't have had to use it if you'd have gotten medical attention right away."

"Hermione said I'd have to wait out the sprain," he answered. "And Molly used her heal-all salve on the sting. It seemed to work and I assumed the pain and swelling were from the sprain."

Severus shook his head again in mock disbelief and pointed his wand at Harry's foot. "Infection seems contained in the foot," he said at last after palpitating the flesh on his foot, ankle and calf so much that Harry felt like a melon at the market. He then picked up the silver dagger and studied it a moment. The knife seemed to meld with his hand, feeling like an extension of it rather than a separate instrument. Harry stared at him as he in turn stared at the dagger.

"Do you know what you're doing?" asked Harry a bit anxiously. After all, it was his foot that was about to go under the knife.

Severus seemed to snap out of his reverie. "Of course," he answered. He wiped the dagger on the soft cloth in which it had been wrapped.

"Wait…" protested Harry.

"This may sting a bit," said Severus as he lifted Harry's foot and put several towels under it before repositioning it on the ottoman.

"How long has it been since you've…?" Harry did not finish the question as Severus poured half of a vial of a clear liquid over the sole of his foot and he let out a very unmanly yell.

"You might remember from a couple weeks ago that I'm not the best patient in the world," said Harry as Severus cast a quick immobilization spell over Harry's legs.

"You could have warned me!" he protested, glaring at Severus. "What is that stuff?"

"Cleaning and sterilization agent," responded Severus, watching the bottom of Harry's foot froth and foam. He waited a moment then muttered "Brace youself" and poured the other half of the potion out.

A numbing agent was next—thankfully. Harry pressed himself back into the couch and took deep breaths while Severus sterilized the knife.

"You're working like a bloody surgeon," said Harry he watched Severus.

"I had many responsibilities as Headmaster," he responded cryptically. His voice was tense as he lifted the knife. "It was a difficult year."

Harry stared at his former professor. He knew that the year Snape had spent as Headmaster had been horrible for all of his friends who had remained at Hogwarts. They didn't ever speak in detail of the punishments that had been meted out, just as Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't discuss the details of the torture at Malfoy Manor of the death of Dobby the house elf or any of the other sordid elements of the months spent hunting horcruxes.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, eyes moving from the knife to Severus.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he looked at Harry. "I am not saying that I used knives as torture devices, if that is what you are wondering," he answered. "I am instead conveying to you that I honed my triage and healing skills during that year…out of necessity."

Harry held his gaze a moment longer, than nodded fractionally.

"Get on with it, then," he said.

Severus, for his part, was approaching this operation quite mechanically. He had removed any number of splinters from Anna's hands and feet over the past years but had certainly not lanced infected wounds or deftly selected and administered potions. He tried not to think about how he seemed to know what to do without thinking, how he was able to make a cut of exactly the right size and depth, to drain the abscess then irrigate and pack it with potion-soaked gauze strips. He hoped he was not the one that had created that repulsive curse the Carrows favored, the one that literally mimicked spider bites, creating painful abscesses in its victims. Finally finished, and with Harry white as a sheet yet stoically submitting to his ministrations, Severus wrapped up the foot.

"You are to stay off of that foot," he said. "Get up only to go to use the loo, and put no weight on it when you do. Return to this sofa immediately and elevate the foot again."

Harry looked like he had no intention of moving for a month. He nodded weakly.

"Sit down, Severus," he indicated the more comfortable leather chair at the end of the sofa. He waited as Severus repacked the medical supplies and gamely swallowed the pain potion he was handed. Finally, Severus settled down into the chair and Harry launched into the topic he'd been wanting to take up with Severus.

"Have you thought of what you plan to do during your sabbatical?"

"Concentrate on getting the rest of my memories back, I suppose," answered Severus without much thought.

"They seem to be falling into place rather quickly," commented Harry, indicating the box of supplies Severus had just repacked. "Are you sure you'll need all six months?"

"Let me restate that, then," clarified Severus. "Concentrate on making sense of my restored memories and understanding my strengths and weaknesses in light of what I know now and what I once knew."

Harry considered Severus' answer. "You show an amazing skill at the healing arts." He paused a moment, searching Severus' face, then continued. "I'm not just talking about this"—he waved a hand at his foot—"but also with Ginny, talking with her, understanding the brain and human behavior. Asking the right questions. Exploring different ways for her to communicate. Not beating around the bush…"

"Much of it is basic human psychology, Harry," said Severus dismissively.

"No, it's more than that. It's basic human psychology paired with a deep understanding of the brain's physiology. Basic human psychology and physiology that much of the wizarding world doesn't understand," replied Harry with conviction. He'd never have used the word 'physiology' before Ginny's accident, but it slid out without conscious thought now. "Do you understand how unique your position is, Severus? Sure, we have a lot of Muggle-born witches and wizards. A few go on to University—like Hermione did. But for most of them, their Muggle education ends when their magical one begins. But you…you spent nearly 40 years in the magical world and then started life all over again as a Muggle. And now you have two separate bodies of knowledge you're trying to reconcile. Your brain is going to be able to integrate the best of both worlds, Severus. I could see it in what you just did to my foot—the magical potions paired with the efficient surgical techniques."

Severus listened as Harry expounded, wondering where he was going with this particular line of conversation.

"What is it you've always wanted to do, Severus?" asked Harry. "Something you never thought you could accomplish before—at least not in your Muggle life?"

Severus stared at Harry a long moment then let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I've had precisely that thought in my head this last week, Harry. I have spent the better part of ten years in the Muggle world researching dementia and memory loss. To be able to slow or reverse the affects of Alzheimer's disease…to be able to help patients with amnesia not only build new lives but recover their pasts…" He paused and shook his head. "I am not boasting in saying that I am recognized in my field for the research I have published. But I know….I know….that in the next six months I could make more progress than I did these past ten years."

"What after that?" asked Harry. The pain potion was beginning to work and the dull throbbing in his foot was beginning to ebb like a metronome winding down.

Severus looked puzzled. "After that? What do you mean?"

"After you find a cure for Alzheimer's disease," clarified Harry. "What after that?"

Severus simply stared at Harry, flabbergasted. Harry grinned.

"You're thinking like a Muggle still, Severus. Wizards aren't prone to many of the diseases that afflict Muggles—most likely because our magic works to prevent the onset of the disease in the first place. So wizards don't generally concern themselves with curing Muggle diseases. We couldn't provide magical cures anyway—the logistics are impossible and there's that pesky Statute of Secrecy to deal with too. But take a wizard who loves a good challenge—like yourself—and who's already committed to finding a solution to that challenge and they'll be no stopping him. Two years—maybe as many as five—and you'll have it, Severus. That cure for Alzheimer's…or a way to prevent it. Then what?"

Severus was staring at Harry, his mouth slightly open. Speechless. Harry Potter had rendered Severus Snape speechless. Surely the world was ending.

"Marge Dursley died of pancreatic cancer. Uncle Vernon has Parkinson's Disease. Hermione's mother has rheumatoid arthritis. There are countless people who are confined to wheelchairs with spinal cord injuries." Harry sighed and continued. "And those are just a few examples in the medical arena. What about increasing the yield of farm crops to combat world hunger? Or figuring out how to get water to drought-plagued areas?"

"For a wizard who appears to have only tenuous ties to the Muggle world, you know a lot about Muggle issues," said Snape, watching Harry closely. He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to fit this Harry into the mold he had formed of him over the past two weeks.

Harry looked vaguely uncomfortable, as if he had unwittingly shown his hand before the last card was dealt. He smiled, a bit tersely, and fiddled with the wrapping on his foot while he answered.

"I had…dealings…with the Muggle world while I was an Auror," he said. "There were…are…a number of Wizards who don't consider Muggles to be quite…human." His voice was almost apologetic. "MLE has a special division just to deal with crimes against Muggles. That was my first leadership post—I headed up that division for nearly ten years."

Severus understood that there was more that Harry wasn't saying. An undercurrent of memory, not quite accessible but there nonetheless, like a prickle beneath his skin, teased him. Something he should know about Harry's childhood… He knew Harry had been raised by Petunia Dursley and her husband. Lily's sister—a crass, envious girl turned into a spiteful cur of a woman—could hardly have endeared Harry to Muggles. He let the memory elude him, knowing it would plague him again and perhaps later he could grasp it wholly.

"I have never thought much beyond contributing to the eventual eradication of senile dementia," said Severus. "The thought that my contribution could go further than just building on the years of research already in place is difficult to grasp. The idea that I would ever need something else to pursue—some other problem to solve—is mind-boggling."

"You don't always have to find more problems to solve, Severus," said Harry, his voice dropping a level. "I wasn't trying to goad you into solving all those problems I mentioned. I was hoping to show you that you'll never fix all that's broken in the world. Make your contribution. Hell, do more than contribute. Find that cure and publish your results. It will help countless people, and will probably push Muggle medicine ahead a generation. By that time, you'll be what—65?"

"Don't remind me," said Severus, looking slightly ill.

"And ready to enjoy the next 60 years of your life," said Harry. "Note I said 'enjoy.'" He stressed the final word. Severus stared at him a long moment.

"What's this all about, Harry?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Harry met the gaze with his own steady stare. He broke his eyes away after a long moment and looked at his foot, wriggling his toes fractionally. When he spoke, he didn't meet Severus' eyes.

"I like you, Severus. I like your daughter. She's a wonderful kid—and I think she's finding her place in our world now."

"Are you implying that she didn't have a place in…in…?" Severus hesitated.

"In the Muggle world?" finished Harry. "Am I?" He looked up at Severus then but it was Lily Severus saw in those green eyes.

"Don't…" he began. But he didn't finish the protest.

"Listen, Severus. I was a Muggle-raised wizard who had no idea I was a wizard or that magic was real. Just like your daughter. And once I found out what I was…who I was…there was no going back. I found myself at Hogwarts. You're going to find, I think, that your daughter is a witch through and through. It's hard to straddle the two worlds and I think you're going to have to make a choice sooner than you might think. Anna is going to come to Hogwarts and learn all about your previous life. You're in the History of Magic textbook, Severus. You're on the Chocolate Frog cards. Your portrait hangs in the Headmistresses' office. You aren't an ordinary wizard, just like you're not an ordinary Muggle."

Severus stood, his expression inscrutable. He walked over to the window in the small room, the window that overlooked the cobbled street on the edge of Hogsmeade. There were no cars on the street, no parking meters, no high rises, no litter, no buses. He gazed outward for several minutes while Harry observed him quietly.

"I need a purpose," said Severus at last, turning to face Harry. "I have always had a purpose."

Harry smiled. He didn't say anything.

"Ahh," said Severus, understanding. "You too, then. I had forgotten."

"I left Hogwarts to go after Voldemort. I joined the Aurors to keep the Wizarding world safe. I left the Aurors to take care of Ginny. But I went back to Hogwarts to take care of me."

The cottage's front door banged open at that moment and the excited voices of the four children filled the air. They tumbled into the room followed by a grinning Teddy Lupin, Harry's three surrounding him to exclaim over his wrapped, elevated foot and Severus' daughter virtually launching herself at him. "We visited the owl post office, Papa! And Hagrid was there, getting Hogwarts' mail from London. He came down in a thestral-drawn carriage but I couldn't see the thestral—none of us could, you know—but it was there all the same. He let us pet it a bit and he fed it some strips of jerkey and guess what! The first years ride in boats up to Hogwarts across the lake but the rest of the years take the carriages. Have you ever seen a thestral, Papa? Lily says that both her mum and her dad can see them now, and they rode them all the way to London once! Can you believe that? Thestrals fly, Papa! Well, have you?"

Teddy was ushering the Potter children out of the room.

"Come on, Anna!" called out Lily. "Teddy's going to take us to the park to fly. He said you can ride on his broom with him!" She hopped eagerly up and down as was her custom, and Anna squealed.

"Can I, Papa?" she asked. "I'll be careful—I promise I will. I'll hold on to Teddy with both hands!"

Severus nodded. "Be careful and behave yourself!" he called out as she ran out of the room after Lily, laughing and forgetting the question he had not wanted to answer.

"Dodged the bullet, eh?" asked Harry from his spot on the sofa. He'd heard Anna ask if Severus could see the thestrals.

"For the moment," answered Severus. "Though if I am in the history books as you claim, she'll soon discover her father's unsavory past."

"Best tell her before she reads it then," said Harry.

"Would you want your children knowing that you killed…?" He stopped short, looking chagrinned.

"Knut dropped, eh?" joked Harry. "You know, a few minutes ago we were talking about purpose." He nodded his head toward the doorway where Anna had just disappeared. They could still hear the children laughing and talking on the side porch as they dug through the broom closet. "Isn't she purpose enough?"

/

On Tuesday, Anna stayed with the Potters while Severus met with Draco Malfoy. It was supposed to be a social visit—an opportunity to reconnect, initiated by Draco himself, with a visit to Malfoy Manor to have tea with Narcissa. Anna and Lily paged through Lily's textbooks for the upcoming school year and Anna discovered that her father could see thestrals. Harry sat on the sofa, throbbing foot appropriately elevated, one little girl cuddled up on each side, and told them the story of the bravest man he ever knew. Lily knew the much-loved story by heart already, but Anna listened oh so quietly and at the end had tears running down her pale cheeks.

On Wednesday, Severus and Draco visited the Gregory Goyle Research Institute at St. Mungo's. Anna accompanied her father and met Scorpius Malfoy for the first time. She found him to be quiet and polite, and only a little bit haughty. While Severus and Draco toured the laboratories and Severus got first-hand proof that the sense of smell is the most evocative for memory, the children talked about Hogwarts and Quidditch and Scorpius' mastiff puppy named Lucy. She also discovered that Scorpius played the piano and didn't think Albus and James Potter were all that bad—for Gryffindors. Scorpius could not see thestrals, but his dad could.

On Thursday, Molly Weasley threw a party. It was a Weasley tradition to send off the Hogwarts-bound students with an end-of-the-summer celebration at the Burrow two days before the Hogwarts Express took them back to school on September 1st. Nearly a hundred people packed the Burrow that night, and Severus, drunk on the joy of seeing Anna so happy and, could it be?—social—and on the nearly palpable magic in the air around him, agreed to referee the adult Quidditch match. He didn't let the fact that he hadn't ridden a broom in twenty years deter him, but it was, as Harry insisted, just like riding a bike. Of course Harry was grounded, confined to a lounge chair and nursing a still slightly sore foot and Severus had never actually ridden a bike. Severus had a very interesting conversation with Angelina's aunt when a bludger hit him on the head and she was enlisted to keep him awake and talking until they were able to fetch the healer.

On Friday, Harry collected 37 letters for Severus from the owls on his front porch. One of them was from Angelina's Aunt Sophie, but he didn't know it, as it wasn't in the least bit scented. Aunt Sophie was a very no-nonsense woman, after all. Severus didn't remember asking her to dinner but her letter contained her acceptance and directions to her home just outside of York.

Saturday was September 1st. Severus Snape, dressed in Muggle clothing, approached the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross Station in London at 10:30 a.m. and hardly faltering, pushed Anna's cart through. Anna was skipping beside the cart, clutching Severus' hand tightly, eyes closed as they went through the barrier then open wide in delight when they reached the magical platform.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, looking around at the magical people crowding the platform. "This is better than seeing thestrals!"

Severus held her hand tightly as they made their way toward a cluster of redheads midway down the platform.

"Professor Snape?"

"Severus!"

"Snape?"

"Headmaster!"

"My daughter, Minnie. She'll be starting next year…"

"My wife, Antonia. You might remember her—in Ravenclaw, a year behind me."

"What you did…so thankful…"

"….looking fantastic. Are you planning to regrow your hair?"

"Congratulations on your appointment to the…"

"What a beautiful child! What's your name, honey?"

"Daphne Greengrass. I was in Draco's class. Have you met my nephew Scorpius…?"

The crowd around them parted to allow someone through. His former students—he recognized very few of them but they all seemed to know him nonetheless—who had been shaking his hand, patting his back, hugging him even, seemed now to have grown quiet. Anna saw him first.

"It's Harry, Papa!" she exclaimed, pointing.

"Hey Anna," Harry said. "Severus." He had a bouncing Lily by the hand. He smiled fondly as Lily pulled her hand away and ran over to Anna. "Today's the day, eh? Sending our little girls off to Hogwarts…"

Severus eyed him. "I'm counting on you to watch out for her, you know."

Their easy banter was being followed by a good number of people in the crowd around them.

"I've got her back, Severus," promised Harry. The promise was in his eyes.

Severus nodded. He could somehow hear the unspoken words Just like you had mine.

"Why don't you come along on the train?" asked Harry suddenly. "You can apparate back from Hogsmeade Station. There's room in the faculty compartment—just me and Neville this year."

Severus gave a smirk that left no doubt in anyone's mind that this was the same Severus Snape that had single-handedly deducted more than 15,000 points from Gryffindor in the years he spent at Hogwarts.

"I have a lunch date," he said. "But I'll be there with the Board of Governors for the sorting."

"A lunch date?" asked Harry. "Or a lunch date?" His smirk was uncannily similar to Severus.'

"Oh, it's a date!" exclaimed Anna. A dozen heads swiveled toward her. "He was fussing over what to wear all day yesterday. Honestly!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I told him a tie was much too severe for a lunch date. And he started brewing! In a cauldron! He found a recipe in some old book for a salve to reduce scar tissue. You should have smelled that stuff. It set off the smoke alarm and everything." She took a deep breath and turned toward Lily, adding conspiratorially, "I'm not sure it's such a good idea me going off to Hogwarts and leaving him alone but really, he's going to have to learn to do without me one of these days."

Severus' face had never been so red. Harry had never had such a hard time holding in the laughter. Around them, mouths were either open in disbelief or turning upward in obvious mirth.

"Come now, Anna." Severus' voice, authoritative and cool, rose above the rest. "It's time to board the train. You wouldn't want to miss your ride to school."

"And you wouldn't want to miss your date, Papa," replied Anna, letting him lead her toward a nearby car, Lily close behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, Severus was simply one of several hundred parents standing on the platform waving as the train began to move forward.

"Be sure to compliment her on her hair. Ladies like that!" called out a voice from a window as the train began to ease forward.

"She's making this a lot easier for me, you know," muttered Severus to no one in particular but Draco Malfoy, standing right in front of him, gave a very unMalfoylike snort.

Severus shook his head. Harry could be wrong. That child might just go straight into Slytherin.

Chapter 16

Everyone knew that the Board of Governors was an austere group of old men and none of them, not a one, had ever before attended a sorting at Hogwarts, at least not since they themselves had sat on the stool with the ragged old hat on their heads.

So when the seven men (one day, thought Minerva, she'd get a woman or five on that Board, starting with herself as soon as she retired) filed into the Great Hall after all the students were seated (all save the white-faced throng of first-years-to-be in the Entrance Hall) a hush fell across the room, moving from back to front until all the students were perfectly silent and all eyes, all 800 of them, tracked the single file of wizards as it moved slowly up the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff house tables. This was quite unexpected and their silence was testament to how out of the normal this particular Welcome Feast would be.

Leading the line was a wizard of moderate age, carrying an intricate cane with an ivory head that he obviously did not need half as much as did the five men following him. His long blonde hair lay perfectly straight down his back, partially covering the fine black robes. The five gentlemen that followed him were nearly indistinguishable from each other, except that three had grey hair and two had white though one of these was nearly bald. They were elderly, even by wizarding definition, and wore robes of an older style, pleated in front, unbelted and subtly decorated with wizarding patterns—stars and moons, wands and owls—reminiscent (save for the subtlety) of those of another great wizard who once reigned over this hall.

Bringing up the rear of the line was the newest member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. The student body as a whole watched him with eyes wide open, some pointing or nudging their neighbors, but all as silent and as respectful as children can be after just having been reunited with their friends after a long summer with parents and siblings and no underage magic. The new Governor wore brand new dress robes of shimmering black, modern in cut but conservative nonetheless, purchased that very day on a spur of the moment shopping trip with a witch who had impeccable taste and a flare for style. He seemed as straight and tall as he ever had been, and he appeared to glide down the aisle without touching the floor. His hair, unusually short for a wizard of his age, caught their attention and nearly every eye strayed to the pale skin above the high-collared shirt, hoping to get a glimpse of the scar, the definitive proof that this indeed was Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Severus, who spent so many years of his youth as a spy, felt all the eyes upon him as he walked. Those who had known him twenty years ago were struck most by the expression on his face, as if he were trying to bite back a smile instead of a scowl.

The Governors made a right turn at the head table and proceeded around it to a row of chairs arranged on a raised platform behind the faculty. They remained standing while Neville Longbottom led the first years into the hall, following the same path as the Board of Governors had taken. Neville carried a very old three-legged stool and an even older wizarding hat that had smelled strongly of smoke for twenty years now. When Neville placed the sorting hat on the stool at the head of the aisle, the Governors sat down as one.

And the hat seemed to stretch itself and began to sing.

The words were not memorable and the message not original. The hat, having little to do since it was called upon to burn off young Neville's head twenty years ago, and having failed at its appointed task, had grown complacent and had taken to recycling songs. "Smoke damaged its brain," one faculty member had suggested the year it attempted to rhyme "Gryffindor" with "basted pork," causing the Gryffindors to protest (they did not take too kindly to their house being referred to as "Gryffindork"). "Really should have that thing checked out," said another the year the hat made mention of Merlin's balls (rhyming it with "Hallowed Halls" but causing quite a few elderly eyebrows to merge into hairlines while Minerva resolutely determined to explain that Merlin, along with his many other virtues, was a renowned Quidditch player).

Harry sat at the head table, wedged between Hagrid, who towered above him, and Orvilla Quotient, the Arithmancy Professor. He had not yet been introduced, but no one seemed to be paying him much attention with the sorting about to begin and the Board of Governors' procession having been the focus of the evening so far. His eyes had followed the solemn procession of Governors and he'd dared to wink at Severus as he turned at the head of the table to follow the line to their seats of honor. But now his eyes were on the group of first years, particularly one little girl with red hair and bright brown eyes who was, predictably, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Neville unrolled a scroll and read off the first name.

"Anderson, Mathilda."

And the sorting began.

There seemed to be a larger number of students entering Hogwarts this year, perhaps as many as 60 or 70. Harry had read that wizards of his generation were having more children than their parents did, and the proof was here before them.

"Drubridge, Hector."

Severus had eyes only for this daughter. She might have been hard to spot, except that she was holding so close to her friend, and he had no trouble spotting Lily's red hair, especially since it was bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Farneyhoo, Allison."

Harry hoped the girls would remain friends at Hogwarts, even though it seemed inevitable that they'd be placed in different houses. He'd spoken to Lily about it, and she'd seemed unbothered. "James and Al have friends in other houses," she explained, hands on hips in a fair imitation of her mother.

"Lancaster, Peter."

Severus tugged on his shirt collar. Sophie had insisted that it would work just as well as the turtleneck and had insisted on buttoning it up for him. The collar fit fairly closely around his neck, high enough that his chin grazed it when he lowered his head. The shirt was of a deep charcoal, not quite black, and the buttons up the front ran to the top of the collar. No one save Harry had seen the scars on his neck, and Harry only the one time, the first time they had met, when Severus had pulled down his shirt collar to ask Harry how he had gotten the scar it covered. No one but Harry had seen them until today, when Sophie had helped him with the collar, not commenting on the scar at all, but touching the skin there in the same casual way she worked on the buttons themselves.

"Potter, Lily."

Severus had been staring at Harry's back, trying to judge the distance from the top of Harry's head to the top of Hagrid's. But the name, read aloud, surname first and given name last, resonated so strongly with him that he jerked his head up and stared at the little girl as she climbed onto the stool. She sat a bit sideways, so that he could see her in profile. Lily. Lily Potter.

"Gryffindor!" the hat sang out and Lily promptly removed it from her head, hopped down and dropped it back on the stool. She looked up at her father as she did, gave him a happy wave and caught Severus staring at her, caught the wretched look on his face. Lily frowned a moment, creasing her eyes and cocking her head fractionally, but brightened when Severus gave her a slight smile and a nod.

"Quinton, Pius."

Who would name their child Pius? thought Harry as he watched the small blonde boy go into Ravenclaw.

"Rothganger, Rhae."

Rhae also became a Ravenclaw. Severus clapped politely with the rest of the Governors.

"Salares, Constance."

Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table where Lily sat next to Al and across from James. She was kneeling up on the bench so that she could see the stool.

"Snape, Anna."

Anna didn't move. She looked around at the dozen or so children remaining before realization hit her. All her life she'd been Anna Squires, conveniently close in the alphabet to Snape, but Squires nonetheless.

"Oh! That's me!" she said, a bit embarrassed. Neville nodded at her in encouragement as she went forward, picked up the hat, climbed up on the stool then placed the hat on her head. As it did with many of the first years, the brim of the hat fell down over her eyes.

"Ahhhh….it's been a long time since I've had a Snape on this stool," said the hat in a voice that resonated inside her head. "Let's take a look inside that brain of yours and see if you measure up to the mettle of your father."

"My Papa's here, you know," said Anna, very quietly. She was both intrigued and disturbed by the voice in her head.

"As he should be," replied the Sorting Hat. "He belongs to Hogwarts, you know. What is that saying? Once a Headmaster, always a Headmaster?"

"I haven't heard that one, actually," said Anna.

"Maybe it's 'If a Headmaster should fall, he'll hang on the wall," mused the hat.

"That's just silly," said Anna. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. "Let's just get on with this, shall we?"

"Well then," said the hat's voice inside her head. "What have we here? Intelligence. Quite the clever girl you are, convincing your father to let you go to school here. Bravery, but not enough for a Gryffindor. Not this year, anyway, with all the Weasleys and Potters filling up those benches…."

"Those Weasleys and Potters are my friends," said Anna. "I hope you didn't mean to imply something negative with that statement."

"Oh no! Not at all!" said the hat, without sounding at all convincing.

"Listen, I just want to make my father proud of me," said Anna. "And I want to understand him better, as a wizard I mean…"

But the hat was already exclaiming, even as she spoke.

"Slytherin!"

"Finally!" she huffed, giving her father's worried face the brightest of smiles as she dropped the hat rather unceremoniously back on the stool, waved at a bouncing and smiling Lily and marched herself over to the Slytherin table where she scooted in next to Baker, Meredith and turned with the rest of the table to watch the sorting end with Weasley, Hugo who, quite to his own surprise, and to the surprise of Gryffindor table and of the Sorting Hat itself, was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Headmistress McGonagall welcomed the students and introduced the Board of Governors then invited them to sit at their old house tables for the feast.

"Papa!" exclaimed Anna as Severus walked toward her, his face breaking into a smile at her delighted expression. "I did it! I got into Slytherin! I was worried there for a bit. I think the hat was leaning toward Ravenclaw."

"Were you having a discussion with it?" he asked quietly as little Meredith Baker scooted over to make room for him, scooting quite a bit further than was absolutely necessary, he noted.

"Well…yes…" she answered. She leaned in to him, her eyes widening exponentially as the feast literally materialized in front of them. Severus noted, with satisfied pleasure, that the Slytherins at the table did not make mad grabs for the food and began an apparently organized process of passing bowls and platters. "It actually seemed more interested at first in you than in me. It kept spouting sayings I've never heard of regarding Headmasters."

"I see," said Severus, accepting a platter of twice baked potatoes from a prefect across the table and nodding his thanks. The prefect looked terribly pleased for some reason. He looked at the plate, instinctively knowing that twice baked potatoes had not been standard Hogwarts fare in his day. Had the house elves been attending cooking classes?

"Actually," continued Anna, gazing up again, as she had quite a few times already, at the hundreds of candles floating above their heads, "it said 'If a Headmaster should fall, he'll hang on the wall."

"Did it? That's an interesting saying. I assume it refers to portraits, don't you think?" answered Severus. He glanced down at his daughter's plate. Despite the fact that at least half of the serving plates on the table offered simple carbohydrates, she had filled a third of her plate with vegetables and had opted for whole grain wheat rolls instead of the white. He mentally added a full study of nutrition and dietary planning to his Hogwarts agenda and wondered how that was to be accomplished with a battalion of house elves who were nothing if not eager to please the children.

"Portraits! That's it, isn't it?" She took a long drink of pumpkin juice. Severus looked around but did not see jugs of milk on the table. "I was imagining them hanging on big pegs in the wall by their cloaks. See, that's why I shouldn't be in Ravenclaw. I'm pants at riddles."

Severus' eyebrows rose a fraction.

"Pants?"

"Oops. James and Al and Lily say that all the time. I rather like it, Papa. I know it's slang, but I suppose I'll be picking even more up now that I'm at Hogwarts with so many other children."

"I suppose," admitted Severus. "However, should you pick up too much and I notice it when you come home for holidays, I may rethink your schooling here…"

"Papa!" exclaimed Anna. Several heads among those that were not already following their conversation turned toward them.

Severus shook his head and reached over and ruffled his daughter's hair.

"Sir?"

Severus looked up at the prefect sitting across the table. She was politely waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"Sir, in case you were wondering, Slytherin house has changed a bit over the years."

"Has it?" he asked, one eyebrow raising in a Snape-like way. Several of students sitting around him instinctively leaned back and several more smiled. There was a portrait of Severus Snape in their common room, one that had been commissioned by the Board of Governors after Severus' disappearance and supposed death twenty years ago. It didn't speak or even move much, but it did exhibit any number of fairly menacing facial expressions, and the raised eyebrow was one of its favorites. It was known to do the eyebrow lift when it wanted to cast doubt on what it was apparently hearing or seeing.

"Well, yes, it has," continued the prefect. "The sorting hat been much more willing to ignore blood lineage . We have Muggle-borns in Slytherin, and half-bloods and…" she swallowed and looked down the table where a familiar looking boy was talking animatedly with his friends. He gave a small wave to Severus. "And even a Weasley."

"Fred, isn't it?" asked Severus, nodding at the boy and returning his 'thumbs up' gesture, much to the delight of the students sitting near him.

"Yes," she said, blushing slightly. "He was quite a surprise, actually."

"May I assume that Slytherin house still has age-based bedtime curfews and study hours?" asked Severus. Anna watched the exchange, feeling extremely proud of her father.

"Except on Fridays and Saturdays," answered a second prefect. No, this one was the Head Boy, realized Severus, glancing at the young man's badge.

"Excellent," said Severus. "And orientation for the first-years?"

"They're assigned a second-year and a fifth-year buddy," answered the Head Boy. "Though we call them mentors in Slytherin. The other houses have adopted the system too. Frankly, we take it more seriously here…"

The conversation continued, and Severus fell into it easily, the organization and daily activities of life at Hogwarts coming back to him like second nature. Students shuffled places on the benches, each wanting to have face time with this intriguing icon of a man they'd read about in their history books and heard about this summer in The Daily Prophet. Anna was already becoming a minor celebrity. He didn't mind that. She was a Slytherin, after all, and should take advantage of every opportunity presented her.

Over at the Gryffindor table, old Theobald Kneebender, the youngest of the oldsters on the Board of Governors, had happened to choose a seat at his old house table in the middle of the Potter family. He frowned at his pumpkin juice while the children chattered on around him. Lifting a piece of chicken from a platter before him, he frowned at the coating. He frowned at the peas—mashed instead of whole—though he was not alone in his disapproval of that dish. A small voice near him seemed to be addressing him, cutting through the foggy mental clouds of his mind that were focused solely on getting through this meal and getting home to his warm bed in his quiet echoing manor.

"When were you here, sir? In Gryffindor House, I mean."

It wasn't a Potter who asked the question, though all of the Potters, along with several more Gryffindors, turned to look at the old man expectantly.

Kneebender swallowed a piece of twice-baked potato, surprised. He looked across the table at the girl who had spoken. She seemed polite enough.

"I was sorted into Gryffindor in 1929," he answered, feeling just a bit proud to have made it to 2019 quite intact and unscathed.

Mouths around him dropped open.

"Wow," said Albus Potter, visibly impressed. "What was Gryffindor like back then, sir?"

"Was Nearly Headless Nick here?"

"Was Dumbledore Headmaster?"

"Did you have the Fat Lady?"

"Did you have to wear this stupid tie?"

Kneebender's surprised face turned from one young person to the next, trying to follow the questions which, in typical Gryffindor fashion, were coming at him like spells in a duel. He really didn't understand children. He'd never had any of his own, of course, what with the business to run and Portia spending so much time on the continent…

"Did you beat Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup?"

Ahh! There was a question he could answer. He smiled, remembering the rivalries of the day and how, all these years later, he had been surprised to see Milo Weatheringham moving slowly over to the Hufflepuff table when the Headmistress had invited the board members to eat with their old houses. He cleared his throat, testing his voice with an "Ahem" that seemed to surprise the children.

"In my day," he began, "Slytherin had the better brooms…"

"They still do," groused James.

"…but Gryffindor, Gryffindor, could fly circles around them even if they had nothing but the caretaker's push broom to ride on…"

When Minerva McGonagall stood up to give the welcome speech and introduce the new faculty, Kneebender was just finishing a tale featuring a sixteen-hour Quidditch match against Slytherin in which both Seekers had been injured in a mid-air collision and the match had not ended until one of them was released from the hospital wing.

Her speech was brief but warm, as usual. All the students collectively groaned as two more items from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Cordless Extendable Ears and Wide Awake Study Time Elixir Drops, were banned from Hogwarts.

"And we have only one new professor this year," she continued, ignoring the boos, strangely coming from the NEWT level students who had been counting on some extra study time from the WASTED potion. "Mr. Harry Potter, formerly of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, will be assuming the role of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry stood and waved to the expected raucous applause. At the Slytherin table, Severus was both pleased and interested to see that the applause was no less exuberant than at the other tables.

"Finally!" said a boy of 15 or 16 sitting on the other side of Anna. "A Defense Professor worth his salt. Old Pieman was so bad at dodging curses when he was an Auror that he didn't have many brain cells left firing when he started here."

Severus snorted. He couldn't help it, really. Heads turned toward him in surprise. Scorpius Malfoy, who had moved himself closer to this icon of a man, smiled. He'd been lulled to sleep many times on stories of Severus Snape, told in his father's quiet voice, stories that had details that weren't in the history books, told with awe that could never be captured on a page. Scorpius Malfoy had to live up to a name that had been sullied, stamped on then slowly, oh so slowly, redeemed by his father's behavior following the war in which he almost, almost, killed the great Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Lucius Malfoy watched his grandson carefully, noting his interest and silently approving. It would do Scorpius, and the Malfoys in general, good to be associated with Severus. Lucius was no fool. He realized what he had in store for him on the Board of Governors with Severus Snape aboard the ship. Draco had managed to save the family name while Lucius protected its fortune. Now Lucius, perhaps, could ride someone else's coattails and take credit for bringing the 20th century into Hogwarts…before too much of the 21st had passed.

Students were standing now, being dismissed house by house by the Headmistress.

"I'll be fine, Papa, really," said Anna, hugging her father. "And you will too. You've got oh so much to do, haven't you? To get your research going? I expect to read about it in the Prophet, you know. And you're to write me often. I'll instruct Moonstone to wait for a reply whenever he brings a letter from me, all right? You'd best invest in some owl treats—I expect you can buy them in Hogsmeade or in Diagon Alley." She stopped chattering as she looked at her father's face. She'd never been separated from him before, not once in her life that she could remember anyway, and had been quite worried about how it would be to sleep in a four-poster bed in a room with several other girls every night, to not hear her father's gentle snores from across the hall when she woke up to get a drink of water. She wondered how you woke up here at Hogwarts. Were there alarm clocks? Spells that worked like them? She'd only ever been awakened by her father's gentle hand on her shoulder, and his voice in her sleepy head telling her to wake up and join the living.

"I'll miss you, Papa," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him one more time and kissing his cheek.

"I shall miss you too, pumpkin," he answered, using the only name he ever called her besides Anna. His voice caught, as it often did in his damaged throat. He pulled away a bit so that they were nose to nose. "I truly did not care which house you went to, but am especially glad that we have one more thing to share between us." He reached out a hand and adjusted the green and silver tie that the prefects had passed out to the newly-sorted first years. In the back of his mind he thought that the ties should go—wasn't there a more appropriate way of showing house affiliation than an uncomfortable knot around the neck?

The Slytherins were being called to leave so he stepped back and allowed Anna to take her place with the other first years. When they were gone, he turned to see Harry with the Gryffindors, sitting on the bench but facing outwards, Lily in front of him, bouncing on her toes. Harry gave that exasperated smile of his and Lily hugged him suddenly then reached up under his glasses and wiped his eye with her thumb. She leaned over to kiss his cheek and then disappeared with the other Gryffindors. James and Al looked pleasantly bothered by the parting head rubs he gave them.

Severus walked up to the front of the hall where the other Governors were gathering, being introduced one by one to the Hogwarts staff.

"Just like old times," said Harry to Severus as he stopped beside him.

Severus let his eyes drift upward toward the enchanted ceiling. It was hard to see the stars with the candle flames softening the darkness.

Severus knew that Harry was not thinking of a sorting nearly 50 years ago when another Lily Potter had gone to Gryffindor and another Snape had gone to Slytherin. But he was. The memory, already returned to him by Stuart a week or more ago, had anchored itself firmly to a nest of others but Severus knew that Anna was not concerned that her friendship with this Lily Potter was doomed.

"Old times," he agreed.

"How was the date?" Harry changed tactics, grinning. "I think someone's gone shopping…"

"Oh? This old thing?" said Severus, innocently holding out his arms and looking down at the shimmering black silk.

Harry grinned. "I've known Sophie for years and that get-up has her fingerprints all over it, Severus."

Severus shrugged.

"I never kiss and tell," he dead-panned, raising his head a bit and beginning to walk toward the small antechamber where the Board of Governors would be holding a short meeting.

"Kiss?" Harry's voice trailed after him.

Severus Snape smiled…but kept walking.

Number 24 Hyacinth Park is a neat brick cottage with big square windows, a wrap-around porch and wooden trellises holding up sweat peas and morning glories, clematis and climbing roses. There isn't an automobile parked out front on the gravel lane, but there is an old-fashioned pram with over-sized wheels and an adjustable sun shield sitting expectantly in the yard. Three comfortable wooden rockers are grouped together on the wide porch and a child's swing hangs from the branch of an English Elm between the porch and the lane. A lazy white cat, blue-eyed and deaf as a doorknob, is stretched out in the grass beneath the pram. It grooms itself fastidiously as it watches oh-so-casually two red squirrels run atop the low wooden fence and hop the space of the open gate.

The cottage is just outside of the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, a five-minute walk from the town's far edge, ten minutes from Honeydukes and fifteen from the train station. Wizards live here. There are no electric porch lights, no satellite dishes, no gasoline powered lawn mowers, and the Muggle washing machine and dryer have been charmed to work without electricity. Children go through a lot of dirty clothes and cleaning charms can only go so far.

It wasn't all sunshine and flowers for this couple. In the space of twelve months, Severus and Sophie had dated, broken up, dated others, gotten back together, cohabited, broken up and gotten back together a final time, this time for good. During the weeks after the first break up, Severus had dated exactly six women, each of them exactly two times. He'd then appeared at Sophie's door and insisted that she marry him. When she'd finally let him into her flat, she suggested that they live together first, to test the waters so to speak, and that had lasted another four months before an argument over children—he was game, she felt she was too old—sent him walking again. They met in the middle the next time, at a pre-Hogwarts gathering at the Burrow, agreeing on one more child, a small private wedding, a honeymoon in Paris and a new home to fill with new memories.

The cottage door opens, and Sophie walks out carrying a blue-wrapped bundle. She's not pretty by everyday standards, but she is striking, and she is happy, and that happiness is apparent in her every movement. She sits in a rocking chair and begins to rock, looking expectantly out at the lane, eyes traveling up the road, following the sound of laughter. A little girl, caramel skinned, dressed in denim overalls and a yellow blouse under a lightweight robe, runs through the gate and up the walk, pauses to squat and scratch the white cat then continues running up the stairs and across the wooden floorboards of the porch until she is at her mother's knee, kissing her baby brother, holding out her hands automatically for a quick Scourgify.

Severus and Anna walk together, Anna taller than Sophie now, talking quietly. Severus has his hands clasped behind his back and is wearing everyday robes over dark pants and a green button-down shirt. He no longer wears turtlenecks. Today he has on snake-skin boots with a thin belt to match. His hair is tied back at the nape of his neck, still black shot with silver. He is clean shaven. His oldest daughter is coming home for half-term break. She is almost 16 now, a Slytherin prefect, and has already proven to be an accomplished witch. Severus is proud of her, but no more so than when she smiles broadly as they pass through the gate and runs up to the porch, a "Mum!" on her lips.

Severus still has connections to the Muggle world, though he never returned from the sabbatical he began the summer magic came back into his life. The Squires Treatment for early-onset Alzheimer's has taken the world by storm, providing hope to families cursed with one of the genes so far identified. The reclusive scientist behind the break-through will likely one day receive a Nobel Prize for his efforts. Severus will funnel the money into scholarships and grants for budding young scientists and researchers and continue his quiet life in Hogsmeade in the six-room cottage with the gazebo in the back garden and the lazy blue-eyed cat on the front porch. He keeps a small potions lab in the basement with a floo connection to his larger lab in Diagon Alley but most days he stays home with the children while Sophie floos to Gringott's where she works as an investment planner for wizards diversifying their portfolios in Muggle markets.

Severus sits in a rocking chair on that front porch now, with Anna on one side of him and Sophie on the other. Harriet (named after Sophie's mother, though everyone assumes she is named for her famous godfather) climbs into his lap and, as she is wont to do, hugs him around his neck and kisses the tip of his nose. It is a wet kiss, as always, and smells of the graham cracker animals she ate before they walked to meet Anna. She climbs from her Papa's lap onto her big sister's and Sophie stands and hands baby Rory to Severus and Severus stands and expertly tucks him into the pram. Anna pushes the pram down the walk, Harriet dancing beside her while Sophie and Severus follow, hand in hand.

They are walking to the Potter's home, of course.

Harry Potter and his family still live in the medium-sized cottage that Harry purchased the year he began teaching at Hogwarts, the year after Ginny was injured, the year that Lily became a first-year.

James, of course, is gone from Hogwarts, and he works for Severus, or technically for Severus' institute. He's taken a rather small flat in Diagon Alley with his cousin Fred. Fred works with his father at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Ron looks up and smiles whenever someone comes in and says "Fred and George!" The store is doing immensely well still, and Ron has developed a talent for business strategy that has kept them not only in the black but among the top 50 British Wizarding businesses for the past ten years.

It was no surprise to everyone that it was James, not Severus' namesake Albus, who approached Severus about an apprenticeship. Albus resembles his father most in both looks and interests, and seems headed for a career as an Auror. He is in his last year at Hogwarts now, and has his eye on a certain Slytherin prefect, a fifth year, who lives not too far from the Potter cottage. He's a tiny bit afraid of her father, however, a quiet man, but a strict one, but he's practically grown up these past years with Anna. She's remained Lily's best friend, despite the difference in house affiliation.

The girls, in fact, are cooing over baby Rory now. He's a small thing still, only three months old, and he's begun smiling in earnest since the last time they saw him, wet gummy smiles that start at his mouth but move to his bright dark eyes. Lily is holding him. She's taken him out of the pram and he grabs a handful of her long red hair and puts it in his mouth. She patiently removes it and smiles as Sophie gives her the teething ring. Harriet runs right to Albus, as she always does. She's only two, and she doesn't see him all that often, but she loves him all the more for it. Oh, she loves Harry too, but Harry is still inside so Albus lifts her up and plucks the little girl on his shoulders, tickling her calves until she giggles. Anna looks over and catches his eyes. She smiles. Albus smiles back. He has Harry's smile, his delighted grin. Severus watches him, watches them.

Inside the house, Harry is sitting in the kitchen watching as Ginny kneads the bread dough. She doesn't live at Potter's Nook with them, but he brought her here from the Burrow last night, after the dinner in the Great Hall marked the beginning of half-term break. Ginny has come quite a distance since the summer that he bought this cottage, since Severus came back to life and found his magic and his memories just where he had left them. She can't live alone; she tends to wander at times, and is forgetful enough to leave the oven on or the fire blazing. Baking and gardening fill her days now. She works with Molly at a small shop in Diagon Alley, a bakery and café enterprise suggested by Severus with seed money from George and Severus' own businesses and from Harry himself. She spends summer evenings with Harry and the children at the cottage. She loves the children, and they her, and while she no longer feels or acts like a child herself, she is not a mother to them, no matter they call her Mum and she poses in family pictures and sat next to Harry when James came to him with the idea of apprenticing to Severus.

She loves Harry too, and he her, but she is not really a wife to him, despite the wedding band on her finger and the fact that she is Ginevra Weasley Potter. They don't share a bed but they share a family. She held his hand in St. Mungo's when his appendix ruptured last year, but the children were there too, and Molly and Arthur, and Ron and Hermione, and even Severus and Sophie. Sophie, already five months along with Rory, stayed through with him the first night and held his hand in much the same way Ginny had.

It is enough for him now to have Ginny largely whole, and making new memories of her own, having a productive yet quiet life. He misses a partner in his life though, and has grappled with this feeling and the guilt it brings him to think of looking elsewhere for that kind of love. The love he sees manifested in those around him; the quiet, respectful, just under the surface love between Severus and Sophie, the enduring love between Arthur and Molly, the true life partnership in Hermione and Ron. It would be easier, he knows, if Ginny found someone else first. She is still beautiful, though much more serious than before, much more deliberate, melting snow rather than Indian Summer.

She puts the dough in the loaf pan to rise, washes her hands at the sink, wipes them on the towel hanging there. Her eyes stray to the window above the sink and she looks into the back garden where the green fronds of the daffodils and irises are pushing out of the loose soil. She comments on the coming summer, and the garden she will plant here, and Harry smiles and beckons to her and they walk outside together.

Lily is still holding baby Rory. He's gumming her knuckle now, and Al and Anna are sitting together on the porch swing with Harriet between them, Lily sitting on the rail in front of them while Al makes faces at the baby and Harriet babbles about a shovel and a blue cauldron, but she's really talking about a beach bucket—she calls all buckets cauldrons. She climbs into Anna's lap again.

Severus and Sophie stand up from the porch stair where they were seated when the door opens. Harry's been busy at school. He hasn't seen his friends in several weeks. The baby has grown and has started to smile in that time. Sophie is looking more her usual self after the difficult pregnancy—she is 49 now after all—and the worry has left Severus' eyes now that the much loved but unplanned baby is here, whole and hearty, and Sophie's blood pressure is back in control and the edema is gone.

Ginny smiles shyly. After all this time, all the time she has spent with Severus these past years, she is still shy around him. He has spent countless hours talking with her, drawing her out to determine how she learns best (visually) and what activities suit her (physical ones, ones that can be divided into short incremental tasks, like baking) and what regimen of medications and potions most helps her short-term memory issues. He will always be a professor to her, a doctor, a professional, and not her friend. But she trusts him, and is comfortable around him.

Severus and Sophie follow Ginny and Harry back into the house, leaving the children on the porch along with the fat little Jack Russell terrier mix Harry calls "Horace."

Lily smiles as Albus stretches out his arms, the right one coming to rest along the back of the swing, an obvious gesture not lost on Anna, who winks at her friend as she scoots fractionally further away from Albus, teasing him as only she knows how. She likes him and wishes he'd have asked her to the Yule Ball this year, but she'd promised Scorpius in September and had gone with him even though his eye had already turned to Lily.

The sound of laughter wraps around the little home as Albus' side of the swing suddenly drops lower, the chain compromised by weight or by magic, and Anna falls into his side and Harriet squeals and jumps down and the terrier follows her into the yard, waddling in a fair imitation of his namesake.

Lily rolls her eyes as Albus steals a quick kiss, just a peck really, and Anna blushes ever so slightly, not wanting to show her hand yet but unable to control the pleased little feeling inside.

And Severus, glancing out the front window of the sitting room, remembers.

He remembers summer days at the house in Surrey, when Anna was as small as Harriet, when he had no real friends, no family, and he'd been so new at being a father and so out of his element. It was just he and Anna back then, forging a bond of need and love so strong, so very strong. But it was Anna, wasn't it, that had led him here, to this place, to this time, because he'd seen eventually that that need and that love would not be enough. He'd seen it when she ran with the Weasley children on that first visit to the Burrow, when she'd jumped off the shoulders of the giant in the lake, when she'd embarrassed him so much on Platform 9 ¾ the first time they'd gone there together and when she kissed him and he'd called her Pumpkin in the Great Hall after the feast.

He's given the world its first real hope in combating inherited dementia, and he's shaken up the Board of Governors with his practical recommendations and has gotten quite a few of them pushed through. He even has Harry on the Headmaster track now—serving as deputy to Minerva's replacement and thinking and acting like the leader he is.

Lily sees him looking out the window. She holds up baby Rory to see his Papa and lifts his hand in a baby wave.

Severus' own hand comes up to wave back.

Here was his success. Here was his life.

That he must always remember.