The din from the celebration taking place in the Great Hall floated out the large oak doors and through hallways of the Castle. But up on the third floor, at the end of a long corridor, it was blessedly silent.

Severus Snape had made the mandatory appearance at the Leaving Feast and had now come to Professor Vector's office to leave a note regarding their planned tandem classes for the following school year.

He finished his note and tossed the quill upon the desk, then leaned back in the old creaking, wooden chair and sighed as he reflected upon the school year that had just come to a close.

What a year it had been, intolerably long and infinitely frustrating.

Snape thought about all that had taken place: the interference by the Ministry and how Dolores Umbridge had wracked havoc upon the lives of the students and the professors.

The Fates had taken care of the matron toad, using the Centaurs as their tool of justice. That small victory was sweet and Severus indulged himself with a smirk of satisfaction, but his smile vanished as his thoughts moved onto the other individual who had been visited by the three ladies of destiny, Sirius Black.

That death left Snape at odds.To some degree, Snape felt vindicated for a past injustice but at the same time he felt disquieted. For even though the cruel trick that Black had played on him, all those many years ago warranted justice, death seemed to be a rather heavy price to pay.

Snape then considered the fiasco that had just transpired at the Ministry what with Potter racing off like a typical Gryffindor, all courage and no forethought. The mutt had done the same and both he and his godson, because of their foolish recklessness, had played right into the Dark Lord's hand.

Potter always seemed to vex Snape, but the fact that the brat had witnessed this death left even the cold hearted potion master with a small bit of pity for the boy.

His mind moved on to what was undoubtedly the most unbelievable event of all — the possession.

What must it have felt like to Potter? His connection to the Dark Lord, the insights gained and then to have survived intact.Of course, ‘intact’ could only be considered in relative terms; yet still, Snape was more than intrigued and perhaps even a bit envious. If so much enmity didn't exist between Potter and himself, he would have entertained the thought of asking the young wizard to describe his impressions and recollections of the event.

The sudden intrusion of voices from the adjoining room disrupted Snape's musings.Immediately recognizing the participants in the conversation, he closed his eyes and drew a steadying breath. Dear Merlin, not... him. 

The door that separated the office from the classroom was ajar.For a moment, Snape pondered what to do: Close the door? Or stand and approach in order to get a better look?

He settled for staying seated at the desk — and listened.

"Anyway — it doesn't matter — Sirius won't care if it's unusual, he'll come back, I know he will!”

"He will not come back. He will have ... gone on."

"What d'you mean, 'gone on'? Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn't everyone come back? Why isn't this place full of ghosts? Why─ ?"

"I cannot answer."

"But you're dead, aren't you? Who can answer better than you?"  

"I was afraid of death," said Nick. "I chose to remain behind. I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries … "

"Don't talk to me about that place!"

"I am sorry not to have been more help. Well ... do excuse me ... the feast, you know ..." **

Snape closed his eyes and wished vehemently that he had not witnessed this conversation. The timbre of the dialog and the desperation in Potter's voice had disrupted the quiet placidity of his previous musings. Even so, the intensity between Potter and the ghost sparked Snape's curiosity, so he stood and moved silently toward the door to espy on young Potter.

The unnerving sight that greeted him convinced Snape that he should have stayed seated at the desk.

The young wizard was standing motionless on the opposite side of the room, staring fixedly at the place in the wall through which Nick must have just disappeared. Potter’s devastation was displayed with blatant clarity by his expression. 

In a few moments, his entire frame began to shake as he succumbed to his grief. He sank to his knees and finally released his sorrow and anguish over the loss of Sirius.

"Sirius,” he cried, “I'm so sorry! I never should have...”He choked on his tears. “It was all my fault that … "Harry's sobs were making it almost impossible for him to speak.

He cried for the longest time. At one point, he reached out with his hand, trying to find support as he trembled with grief. The instant he made contact with the wall of the classroom, the castle began to shake. 

Snape was astounded at the sight of the phenomenon: that a mere touch from Harry's hand could actually cause Hogwarts to shake on its very foundation. But even more remarkable was the casual manner in which Harry simply withdrew his hand, putting an end to the shaking — as if it was an everyday occurrence.

Harry continued his mournful lament for Sirius: apologizing, expressing all that they could have shared and lamenting the 'what ifs' and 'if only'.

But eventually his crying eased.

After what seemed like an eternity, Snape watched Harry as he stood, made his way to the classroom door and drew a fortifying breath. He valiantly wiped away the tears and assumed his typical determined look.

The classroom had been his only private place to mourn, to be just Harry who missed his Godfather terribly and berated himself for the horrible mistake he had made. 

But now he had to lay down his anguish, leave his humble sanctum and return to the school, return to being the Boy-Who-Lived.

Wrenching open the door, Harry squared his shoulders and quickly departed the classroom.

Snape opened the door fully and stared at the now empty classroom. 

This disturbing incident he’d just witnessed had left him feeling jostled — more so than he cared to acknowledge.

He had always assumed that the smug expression Harry wore was one of defiance, but he had been wrong.It was a shield, a barrier of sorts, worn like a suit of armor to protect what was apparently a vulnerable and injured young man. 

What Snape had seen and heard in that classroom awoke within him memories and feelings from his own childhood — of something, someone that had been very dear to him.  

A shadow of a face drifted to the edge of his memories."No!” he called out. “I will not think about these things!"  

Snape vehemently closed his eyes and cringed as he pushed the unwanted memories and awareness back down to that little dark corner of his soul where they had lived for years — safely buried.

He had to take a few steadying breaths, but then he opened his eyes and walked out into the empty classroom.

He gazed at the spot where Harry and the ghost had stood.

For all his years of spying, the conversation between this teenager and ghost had unsettled him, far more than any interaction he’d ever had with his fellow Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord himself.