After a few seconds that felt endless to Harry, the door opened and Snape, with ruffled hair and disheveled clothes appeared in front of him.

"Potter, what are you doing here? Has something happened?"

"No, Professor, nothing's happened. I just, uh... I just wanted to talk to you."

Snape looked at him, with some confusion on his face and his eyes narrowed, as if the light was bothering him. Harry realized that he had probably been sleeping and felt guilty for waking him up. But that feeling didn't last long as Snape gestured for him to come in and stepped aside. Once Harry had crossed the threshold, curiosity replaced any other thoughts.

They were in a small hallway with a door to his left that was closed. Ahead of him, the room opened into a wide space, with the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. Harry noticed that the color palette used was dark but not cold. It reminded him of what he had seen in the Slytherin common room. Black and green were predominant, but there were also shades of brown, gray, even blue. It looked cozy and welcoming to Harry in a way, something he would never have associated with Snape. He had imagined that the man would live in a gloomy, dark place, with pots full of potion ingredients floating inside them. A place similar to his office in the dungeons, where the hated Occlumency lessons had taken place. But now that he stopped to think about it, perhaps that, along with the billowing black cloak, the sarcasm, and the sharp comments, had just been part of Snape's character. Of the armor he had created around himself to hide and protect from others.

"Sit down, Potter."

Two dark-colored sofas separated by a low coffee table stood in front of him. One of them had been used recently as the cushions were flattened and unorganized. Harry wondered if Snape would have slept on it, perhaps too exhausted to reach the bed. He got his answer when, without looking him in the eye, the man waved his wand, tidying up the couch in an instant. Harry made no comment on that and merely sat on the other, facing Snape.

"Potter." Started the Potions Master, much more awake than he had been a few seconds before. "You said you wanted to talk to me. But how on earth did you know where to find me?" He was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, his back brushing lightly against the cushions and his hands on his legs, as if ready to move at any moment. His demeanor had changed. He no longer seemed disoriented but was watching Harry with curiosity and also a hint of suspicion.

"And shouldn't you be at the Burrow with the Weasleys?"

Snape moved the hand resting on his knee that held the wand. Only a few millimeters, but enough to point it directly at Harry. To the untrained eye it might have looked like a casual gesture but the boy, an expert at recognizing threats, saw it, and his heart began to pound. With his eyes glowing dangerously, wand pointed at him, dressed again in his black robes, Snape looked too much like the one from before. Too much like the Death Eater Harry had feared and hated. He could sense the danger in the air and was tempted to reach into his pocket to pull out his own wand as well. But then he saw the scars on Snape's neck, the dark circles under his black eyes, the way his hand slightly trembled...and he kept his wand where it was. Guilt filled him inside and he felt very stupid all of a sudden. Of course Snape was going to distrust him after showing up unannounced in front of his quarters and considering he was supposed to be with the Weasleys. They both had enough experience with the Polyjuice Potion and, even though the war was over, there were still people left who hated Snape and would want to hurt him.

Harry raised his hands slowly.

"I went to look for you in the infirmary, but your room was empty." He said. "I saw Madam Pomfrey, who told me where you were and showed me how to get here."

Something stirred in the back of the Potions Master's eyes, but he did not lower his wand.

"My patronus, what animal is it?"

"The same as my mother's." Harry said without hesitation. "A doe. I saw it for the first time this winter, when you used it to give me the Gryffindor sword."

Snape looked at him for a couple more seconds that felt infinite to Harry. Finally, he nodded and leaned over to rest the wand on top of the table.

Harry took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his hands against the fabric of his pants.

"Sorry, Professor. I understand why you thought it wasn't me. I should have warned you."

"Yes, it would have been smart."

Harry's face reddened.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time." He replied, regardless.

Snape sighed but didn't tell him there wouldn't be a next time, so Harry took it as a victory.

"Well, Potter. Tell me, what did you want to talk about? I imagine it has to be important or else you wouldn't have come all the way from the Burrow."

Harry bit his lip.

"Uh... Actually, I wanted to tell you about what has happened these past few days. Fred's funeral and... everything else."

"I see..."

Snape leaned back against the cushions, interlacing his long fingers. Harry tried to read his expression, but he wasn't able to and that made him feel very vulnerable all of a sudden. Talking with Snape in the infirmary had been one thing, but it was quite another to do it there, at his own home, sitting on his couch. The piercing gaze and the man's intimidating presence held their full power once again, something that hadn't happened with Snape lying on his gurney and full of bandages.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself not to look away. He met the man's black eyes, the ones he had hated so much once. Those that had opened again just a week ago and had begun to see him as he was.

"Well?" Snape asked, his face still not betraying his thoughts.

Harry cleared his throat, nervously.

"I wanted to tell you that the funeral went better than I expected. I mean, it was very hard and sad, but I managed to keep control over myself. Talking to the Weasleys helped me a lot and, in the end, it was even nice to be all together, supporting each other."

Snape nodded, but said nothing more and Harry looked away, trying not to show his disappointment. He hadn't expected him to tell him that he was proud of him, but, after very hard days, it would have been gratifying to receive some sort of acknowledgement from the man. However, Snape was still watching him silently, so Harry decided to keep talking, pushing down those feelings.

"Speaking of the funeral... I wanted to ask you something." He said, changing the subject. "I was surprised that the ceremony was officiated by a man from the Ministry. He was almost like a priest of Christian funerals... Uh, to Muggles, a priest is a man who-"

"I know what a priest is, Potter." Snape cut him off. Then he pointed to himself. "Half-blood, remember?"

"Oh."

Harry did, in fact, remember, though for the last year he had tried to forget it. After Snape's betrayal, after he had killed Dumbledore, it had hurt to think of the Half-Blood Prince. Knowing that that invisible friend who had been by his side during his sixth year, that brilliant student that Harry had identified with and had come to admire, was actually a Death Eater and a murderer, had been a hard pill to swallow. Harry had felt stupid for letting himself be fooled like that and had hidden that memory deep in the back of his mind. But now that he knew the truth about Snape, he could see traces of the Prince in him. The Professor's sarcastic and pointed humor was similar to the one conveyed by the comments written between the pages, and that sixteen-year-old's intelligence had only grown, making him a vital part of Voldemort's defeat. Harry was saddened to think of how the book had burned along with the Room of Requirement. But having Snape in front of him, alive and in the flesh, not just his words written over twenty years ago, meant that the Prince was not gone forever. And that, perhaps, that connection he had felt with him, wasn't gone either.

"Potter?"

"Mm?"

"Are you still here?"

"Yes, sorry. I got distracted for a second."

"Evidently."

Harry sighed. As much as he wanted to ask Snape about the Prince, that wasn't why he had come to Hogwarts. He knew the professor's patience was limited and he didn't want to exhaust it before he had told him everything that had happened over the past two days.

"Back to your question..." Snape began to explain. "It's a common thing. There are people who don't have the energy to prepare a whole funeral, but, at the same time, they want to say a proper goodbye. So, the Ministry makes these wizards available to them."

Harry nodded.

"Makes sense, although it must be a bit of a depressing job…"

"They don't just handle funerals, Potter. Wizards live longer than Muggles and our numbers are much smaller. It wouldn't be worth it for them to work on that alone. So, as long as they get paid, they'll perform whatever ceremony one needs." Snape replied in his usual sarcastic tone. "They can officiate marriages, birthday parties, or even present newborns in society. The latter is usually done by wealthy pureblood families."

Harry listened intently, admiring the amount of things he didn't know about the magical world.

"When they have a baby," Snape continued, "they invite half the magical population to a big party. To be honest, rather than honoring the kid what they want is an occasion to show off their economic and social status." He sighed. "Although that's always the case with families like that..."

Harry saw the change in Snape's expression. The man was speaking from experience. He was aware that he shouldn't press the matter, but he was overcome with curiosity and asked:

"Did the Malfoy's do something like that when Draco was born?"

Snape's gaze hardened, confirming to Harry that this was a difficult subject.

"Yes, something like that..." Was all he said, but his face reflected a shadow of melancholy. Then he blinked and transformed that emotion into boredom and indifference, leaving Harry fascinated. Snape's ability to control his emotions and decide what he wanted to show others was truly amazing. "But we're getting off topic, Potter. The funeral."

"Yes, the funeral." Harry repeated.

"There's something you haven't told me... Did you use the Stone in the end?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, I did use it. But before I did anything I explained my plan to Ron and Hermione. I needed to know that they thought it was a good idea too... And, well, they agreed. So once the ceremony was over and all the guests left, we talked to the other Weasleys."

Snape leaned back against the cushions.

"How did it go?"

Harry sighed, remembering what had happened the day before.

"Well, it wasn't easy... They had a hard time believing us at first. And, once they did, they freaked out, of course. I don't blame them, because I was the first one who wanted to make it clear to them how dangerous the Stone was. And how hard it was going to be to let Fred go again." Harry swallowed hard. "But, in the end, they decided to use it and... And we did it. We were able to talk to him and say goodbye."

Harry's gaze got stuck to the small table in front of him, as memories flashed through his mind. In a shaky voice, he explained to Snape what had happened the night before, though he didn't go into details, as they were part of the Weasleys' privacy, as well as his own. Once he finished talking, he blinked slowly, trying to bring himself back to reality. His eyes focused on an object resting on the table. It looked like a photo album.

"It still seems completely impossible that such an object exists." Snape stated, snapping him out of his thoughts. "And that Albus would decide to just hand it over to you."

"I told you the truth." Replied Harry, somewhat annoyed.

"I know you wouldn't make up something that important, Potter. But I do have to wonder what he was thinking when he decided to load a child with such a burden."

"A child?" Harry felt anger throbbing inside him. "I stopped being one the day I became a part of that stupid prophecy. The day Voldemort decided he wanted me dead."

"Potter, I'm not saying that-"

"I may be young but I'm not an idiot. I know the responsibility that comes with the Stone, okay?"

"I didn't say otherwise." Snape said through gritted teeth. "And I'm sure you think you've helped the Weasleys. But, at the same time, you have to think about whether making them relive everything again won't have hurt them more."

Those words made Harry even more defensive.

"It would have been worse not to. I've already told you that it helped them a lot. It was obvious. We were able to say goodbye and talk about things left unsaid. Besides, what's this all about? When I asked you for advice two days ago, you told me you trusted my judgment. That if Dumbledore had given me the Stone it was for a reason."

Snape averted his gaze.

"I've simply had time to reflect and..."

"Reflect? No. What I think is that you've gone back to seeing me the way you did before. And because of that, it bothers you to think that Dumbledore trusted me." Harry shook his head. "Yes, I'm sure these days that I haven't been here you've used them to hate me again. It must have been very easy for you."

"You're wrong, Potter." Snape said, though Harry didn't believe him. "When you asked me about it, I thought it made sense to use the Stone because I sincerely believed it could help the Weasleys. But now, after hearing everything you've told me and thinking about it coldly, I don't think it should be your decision that allows someone to say goodbye to their loved ones or not. It seems to me that it is too much responsibility for anyone. But especially for a seventeen-year-old."

"I disagree." Harry said coolly. "After talking to the Weasleys and seeing what state they were in...it was a very simple decision. And, if it were up to me, everyone would have the opportunity to do it. To be able to say goodbye."

"Everyone?" Scoffed Snape. "Is that what you're planning on doing with your life, Potter? Wandering the Earth for the next hundred years? Using the Stone on every person who has lost someone?"

Rage filled Harry's chest. It had been a long time since Snape had taunted him like this. Before he would have ignored it, not giving it too much thought. But now it hurt, and that, the fact that Snape could affect him like that, made him even angrier. Especially at himself.

"And what does it matter to you if it's what I want to do? I hadn't thought about it, but... Maybe I do! Maybe that's my purpose. To help people deal with their losses. It would be a very noble thing to do. And, maybe... Maybe then it would make some sense to have come back!"

"Very noble?" Snape repeated with a small smile, but without humor. "It wouldn't be noble, Potter. It would be stupid. And a waste. You don't have to throw away your life carrying the burden of other people's pain. It's not your fault that people die."

"I didn't say that-"

"You don't need to. You obviously feel guilty about everything that's happened."

"How could I not?" Harry snorted. "Didn't you feel guilt when my mother died?" The tension in the air had risen considerably, but Harry didn't care. "Of course you did. You even told Dumbledore that you wished you were dead."

"Potter." Snape warned him, pronouncing each word slowly. "You're you are treading on some mighty thin ice here."

They stared at each other for a few seconds as Harry tried to decide what to do. One part of him wanted to get up and leave, get away from Snape and his comments that always hit the mark. The other wanted to throw hurtful, but true, words back at him. To tell him that maybe, if he used the Stone to talk to Lily, he could let go of much of his guilt and start moving forward. To stop being stuck in the past and not live forever bitter and unhappy. But Harry did neither of those things, he just stared at Snape, his heart pounding and anger throbbing in his temples.

Finally, Snape sighed, and the glint of danger in his eyes faded, leaving only weariness in them.

"Potter... I don't have the energy for this, okay? Let's... Let's go back for a second."

That caught Harry by surprise, causing his anger to fade without realizing it. He stared at Snape, who continued speaking.

"Right. You said that... That helping people would make some sense to having come back.

Harry sighed. He hoped Snape had missed that sentence.

"Yes..."

"Explain."

"It's not important..."

"Potter. We're not going to play this game where I ask you a question and you try not to answer. Just say it and be done with it."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. All right." Said Harry, hoping that if he told the truth, Snape would leave him alone. "The day of the Battle, when Voldemort hit me with the Avada Kedavra and killed the part of him that lived in me... I could have died too. But I decided to go back."

"What do you mean you 'decided'?"

"I mean that I had to make a choice." Harry sighed and, not knowing why, began to explain to Snape something that he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione. "It may sound crazy, but the moment the curse hit me... I woke up in a different place. In some sort of train station. Only it was a lot cleaner than any I'd ever seen in my life." He said remembering the sense of calm that he had felt there.

"You mean you saw Heaven?" Snape asked sarcastically, though there was interest in his eyes.

"No. It was more of a place in between. I know how it sounds okay?" Harry blurted out, before the man could say anything. "And I thought I had imagined it too... But Dumbledore was there. And he told me I could take a train. Go forward. Or go back. Go back to life and face Voldemort and all that was left here."

Snape continued to stare at him, though he said nothing. Harry knew that was one of the tricks the man used to keep him talking, but he still couldn't help himself and continued to explain what had happened.

"As I said before, I know what it looks like. But I didn't imagine it. Dumbledore seemed too real, and he knew things I didn't. And besides... Fred told me something yesterday. Something only someone who's been there could know. Someone who has spoken to Dumbledore. He told me that..." Harry swallowed, moved. Not caring, suddenly, that Snape saw him like that. "That I was very brave to decide to come back. And that, even though the road ahead isn't going to be easy and maybe at some point I'll regret my choice, he promised me that it will be worth it in the end."

Silence fell over the room and this time Harry did nothing to break it. He merely stared at that object on top of the table that looked like a photo album, while Snape looked at him.

"Merlin, Potter..." He sighed. "Who knew dying would turn a Weasley twin into a fountain of wisdom."

"George said something along those lines," Harry smiled without anger. He knew Snape was trying to control the conversation, bringing it back to a space in which he felt more comfortable. "But his 'wisdom' didn't stop there." Continued the boy. "He also told us that we needed each other. And to take care of each other. It may seem obvious, but since the Battle there have been times when I wanted to be left alone. Times when I never wanted to see anyone ever again."

'I don't want you to end up like me', Snape had told him a couple of days ago. And Harry had promised him he wouldn't. The words echoed in his mind and, without knowing how, joined with what Fred had said the night before, forming an idea in his head. Putting together the pieces of a puzzle he didn't even know existed.

"It's normal, Potter. I'm sure your friends have had something similar happen to them."

"There's something else." Harry added, as that puzzle took shape. "Fred told us that we would have to find our purpose. Something that would help us keep going. Even be happy."

"Mm..." Snape muttered.

"The thing is, I think I know what that might be. Not going all over the world using the Stone..." He said, reminding Snape of his own words. "But something along those lines. My purpose could be to take care of the people important to me. To help them in any way I can and make sure they're okay.

With excitement in his eyes, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black pebble.

"And if I have to use the Stone to achieve it, then I will. It's one thing only I can offer. And I have already seen that it can help a great deal."

Snape watched him, him and the Stone, connecting the dots.

"Potter."

"If you wanted to, we could use it."

"Potter." Snape repeated, this time more firmly. Ignoring the fact that, by offering to use the Relic, Harry had included him in the group of people important to him.

"With this you could talk to Dumbledore, sir - even my mother! I'm sure it would help you."

"I don't need your help or your charity, Potter." Snape's voice, as well as his expression, had hardened.

"It's not-"

"Is that why you came here to see me?" Now his voice was soft and dangerous. Like a snake about to strike. "To try to 'help' me?"

"No. I hadn't thought about it until now. But it makes sense. And after seeing how the Weasleys reacted even more so."

"No." Snape said, firmly. "It doesn't. The dead will still be dead. And talking to a poor imitation of them isn't going to change anything."

"But-"

"I'm not going to do it, Potter." Snape had raised his voice and was looking at him from the other sofa. The vein in his forehead throbbing dangerously. "And even less so with you there."

That hurt, and Harry had to take several deep breaths before he said:

"You said that you didn't want me to end up like you. You made me promise that I wouldn't. That I wouldn't become bitter and get stuck in the past. And I won't. But you don't have to either. You're still here. You are still alive. And Voldemort is gone. You have a second chance. You can change things. Find a new purpose."

For a moment, it seemed that those words had taken effect on Snape, for the tension and anger in his face visibly reduced. But, as soon as Harry uttered the last sentence, they came back, filling the Potions Master's features again.

"It's not your responsibility to worry about what I do with my life, Potter. And, quite frankly, I don't want you to. What difference does it make to you if I live like this forever? Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"

"Why do I care about what happens to you?" Harry asked incredulously. "It's you who has kept me alive for years, putting yourself in danger and risking everything to do so."

"It's not the same thing and you know it, Potter, I-"

"And now," Harry continued, cutting him off, "even after the War is over and Voldemort is gone... You've helped me deal with all of this. Something you didn't need to do."

"It's not the same." Snape said again. "You know I made a promise. I owe it to your mother and-"

"And I owe it to you!" Harry exclaimed, losing his patience. "After all you've done I can't-"

"Precisely because of all I've done." Snape replied angrily. "If you truly believe that your purpose is to help others, using the Stone or however you see fit... Then do it. But keep me out of it."

Harry watched Snape's face, his black eyes that tried to show indifference, but were filled with anger. Harry didn't know whether at him or at Snape himself. Did he really want him to leave him alone? Or did he simply not feel worthy of help? Of moving on? Of being forgiven for his mistakes?

"I don't want to keep you out of it." Harry said. "If you don't want to use the Stone, fine. That's your choice. But I'm not going to disappear. And I'm going to keep trying to help you."

Snape put his hands to his temples, covering part of his face, no doubt starting to get a headache.

"What if I don't want you to? Is it so hard to understand that I might want to have some peace and quiet after all?"

Harry frowned. He knew Snape was trying to manipulate him, but he wasn't going to make it that easy for him.

"No. I can understand that perfectly well. But you don't need to shut yourself off from the world and from everybody to obtain them."

"Oh, so that's what you've been trying to achieve by coming here today? Open me up to what's happening beyond the walls of Hogwarts? Save it, Potter." Snape spat, with one of his classic sneers. "You came because you wanted to take a pat on the back. You wanted to hear a 'well done', so you'd feel that putting the Weasleys in danger has been worth it."

Harry's heart began to pound even harder, fueled by the anger those words were making him feel. But it wasn't just rage he felt deep in his chest, but also sadness and a sense of being betrayed by Snape. Harry thought that what they had built was something special; to go from being enemies to achieving a truce and, eventually, a friendship of sorts. But Snape was throwing it all away so that Harry would get mad at him and leave him alone. And all because he was a stubborn, bitter git who would rather be alone forever than risk trying to heal his wounds. Harry took a deep breath, cutting off that thought before it fully formed, and cursing Snape as he realized the man's plan was working.

"No." Harry said firmly. "That's not why I'm here and you know it. I came for two reasons. First, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know your opinion on what happened. And yes, perhaps a few words of support would have been nice... But that's not what I was looking for. And second," Harry continued, "I had to inform you of something important. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but anyway..." He closed his eyes wearily. "We received a letter from Andromeda inviting us to Remus and Tonks' funeral, which is tomorrow. And, well... I had thought that you could come with us. Now that I say it out loud and considering your earlier reaction... I don't think you'd want to... But I'm sure it could help you. And, if you're not going to do it for that reason, at least come and say goodbye to Remus and Tonks. I've seen your memories and I know you respected them and didn't want them to die."

Harry's voice trailed off and it was then that the boy realized just how exhausted he was. It wasn't easy to control his emotions, to try not to fall into Snape's manipulation, to put into words what he was thinking and, finally, to try to convince the man, all at the same time.

But Snape did not appreciate his efforts or his speech. Slowly, he pulled his hands away and Harry almost preferred he didn't. The furious expression on his face shattered any hope the boy still harbored of convincing him.

"Who do you think you are? How dare you come here, to my house, and tell me how to live my life? Try to manipulate me into doing what you think is best for me? Who do you think I am? Your little experiment? Your charity project?"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had imagined some reluctance on Snape's part, that he would become defensive. But that reaction was completely disproportionate.

"'Oh, let's save the evil Death Eater,'" Snape continued, mocking him, "maybe then my mistakes will be forgiven, and I can finally stop feeling guilty about all the people who have died'."

"What are you saying?" Harry had regained his voice. "I've got it, okay? You don't want to come. There is no need to be so cruel. I was just trying to help you and-"

"Oh, but that's precisely the problem, right, Potter?" Continued Snape viciously. "You're just trying to help, aren't you? Just like when you wanted to save Black at the Ministry… And how did that end, I wonder? Or when you came to Hogwarts to follow Dumbledore's plan and brought the deadliest Battle that this castle remembers. At the end of the day, it's clear that you're just a boy who doesn't know anything. But your actions have consequences."

"I know they have consequences!" Harry replied angrily, unable to believe that Snape was telling him all that. "That's why I'm trying to make amends for my mistakes. Or at least trying to fix the few things I still can. And that includes you! I don't understand why you're making everything so difficult. And why you're saying all these horrible things. I thought that-"

"What did you think? That we were friends? That after all of our history you could come over every Sunday for tea and we'd talk about life and tell each other our problems?" Snape snorted, showing what he thought of it. "Well, you were wrong, Potter. If I helped you when I did, it was so you wouldn't throw away nearly twenty years keeping you alive. Nothing more. And now that you have the Weasleys and all those people 'important' to you... You don't need me anymore. My purpose is over. So do what your little friends should have done when they found me in the Shrieking House: leave me alone!"

"Stop!" Harry shouted unable to take it anymore. "Stop! Why are you doing all of this?"

There was a moment of silence, in which Snape seemed to come to his senses. For an instant, Harry thought the man would apologize, that he would acknowledge that he had crossed the line and that he didn't really mean all those things. But that second passed, and Snape's face filled with malice.

"Oh, but this is touching, Potter..." He said with a sneer that chilled his blood.

"What... What do you mean?"

"It's clear to me now, Potter. What you were looking for, all these days, coming to talk to me. You didn't want to make amends, no. But something much sadder. Much more... pathetic." Snape grinned, causing the hair on Harry's arms to stand up. "That horrible void that Black left when he died, that Lupin left... Even your father... You're desperately looking for someone who can fill it..." His lips curved into a false grimace of sympathy and then Snape said something that Harry hadn't even thought of, but that he knew, as soon as he heard it, was true. "What do you think poor James Potter would say if he saw his own son wanting me to fill that void?"

The air left Harry's lungs, as those words pierced him like daggers. The patient and wise Snape from the infirmary, who had helped him so much, had just attacked him where it hurt the most, using the information that Harry himself had inadvertently given him. It felt like a nightmare. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't be that Snape was back to his old self. Even worse, Harry realized, because the professor was now an important part of his life and, where before there would have been only anger, now a hole full of sadness and confusion had formed. Right on the spot where, minutes ago, Snape stood. Struggling to breathe, Harry felt himself losing him, and the man's words hurt far more than if he had hit him with the Cruciatus curse.

With tears in his eyes, making a superhuman effort not to shed them, Harry rose from the couch. Pushing the sadness aside so as not to break down and give him that satisfaction, he looked at Snape with all the hatred he felt at that moment. With his heart pounding in his temples, his hands clenched into fists and breathing heavily, he tried to hurt Snape the same way he had hurt him. In a low but clear voice, he told him:

"You're right. Ron and Hermione should have left you in the Shrieking House. They would have done us all a favor."

Then, without looking him in the eye, he crossed the distance to the door. He flung it open and left that place, slamming the door behind him. He walked, not knowing which way he was going to, trying to get away from Snape and his words. When he felt he had put enough distance, he leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. He could feel the anger and sadness rising up through his stomach and into his throat, making him nauseous. Trying not to vomit or let the tears escape, Harry took a deep breath. But the memories of what had just happened filled his head and the boy, unable to help himself, let out a cry of frustration, kicking the dark wall of the dungeons, putting all his anger into that gesture. Then, with a sore foot, he sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. Moisture began to run down his cheeks and his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, as Harry lay in the middle of the dungeons, the cries draining what little energy he had left.

Minutes went by until, without knowing how much time had passed, the tears stopped. Harry then forced himself to push Snape out of his mind and think only of the Burrow, and the people he loved who were waiting for him there. Then, with effort, he got up and dragged his legs through the castle. When he finally made it to the Hogwarts grounds, the fresh air and the Sun shining in the sky helped him breathe. Harry took a few minutes under the blue, being comforted by the soft warmth of the rays on his skin. Gradually, his agitated heart calmed down somewhat, and he gained enough strength to keep going. When he reached the entrance door, which marked the boundary of the anti-Apparition spells, he took a deep breath and, with the back of his hand, removed the dried tears from his cheeks. He realized that anger had given way to grief, confusion, and disappointment. Harry didn't understand what had happened. Everything seemed to be going well. Was the idea of being helped by him really such a horrible thing? Why would Snape rather hurt him than accept that someone else cared about him? Than admit that he could have a second chance and be happy? And as for filling the gap left by his father... Harry shuddered, not wanting to think about it. He hugged himself, suddenly feeling cold. The sun no longer seemed to warm like before.

"Come on, Harry..." The boy said to himself. "The Burrow. Ron and Hermione will be there. And so will Ginny and the others. It's going to be all right."

He repeated it a couple of times until he managed to regain control over himself. Then he closed his eyes and, with a resounding snap, disappeared from Hogwarts.

He was unaware that, deep inside the castle, a former Death Eater was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions, as different parts of himself struggled to gain control. Despite this, the man's face remained impassive, and his gaze was fixed on a sofa in front of him, where minutes before a black-haired boy with green eyes was standing.