"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.