One could hear a pin drop in the Headmaster's office after the question was asked. The three stared at the Ministry official with identical confused looks. Were they sure Snape had died? Did that man seriously just ask that question?

"What?" Professor Flitwick breathed with wide eyes.

"You've got to be kidding," Professor McGonagall whispered with a horrified look.

"He's alive?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

"Well, yeah, I guess," replied the Ministry official, shrugging. "Has to be. It's only the only way we'd end up with this type of thing happening. You saw me. I tried the spell like a hundred times. And even if he is Mr. Stubborn git in death like he was in life, he'd have to show himself after I cast that. So, either he somehow can bypass my spell—unlikely mind you—or ergo he's alive."

"His body was burned."

"His neck was—" Harry inhaled deeply to keep from sicking up as the memories flooded to his mind again. "You—I saw him. You have to be wrong. He can't be alive."

The Ministry official shrugged once more. "I don't know what else to say. Well, other than 'Just who did you bury out there.' But I guess you'll try to figure that out now. Either way, not my problem. I'm just supposed to put his portrait up. Up to you to figure the rest out now. Like why he's not there. Have a good day." The official then walked out of the office.

"Minerva, you don't think—"

"That he's alive? I-I honestly don't know, Filius." She glanced towards Harry before leaning against her desk with a hand to her chest. "Oh, goodness gracious. He always did this to us, didn't he, though? We should have expected it."

"Professor, I—um—maybe we should, you know, see for sure, if he's alive?" Harry quietly said. "Before we get our hopes up for nothing." If Professor Snape was alive— That opened an entirely different avenue Harry had never once considered. He watched the professors nod.

"Of course. We'll speak with Pomfrey and find out for certain." She shook her head slowly. "If it hadn't been for you, Mr. Potter, we'd never have—I mean—oh goodness. If he's alive, then—"

"It's a whole new game we're playing," Professor Flitwick finished for her.

"Exactly." She laughed softly. "We'll certainly owl you with the results either way, Mr. Potter. We both know how much Severus means to you now."

Harry nodded slowly. Disregarding Snape saving his life and protecting him for Harry's mum, the man could have easily been his father if it hadn't been for him losing his temper with Harry's mum that day by the lake. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine what his life would have been like then. Or what Snape's life would have been like either for that matter. Would they have had the normal father-son relationship like Arthur and Ron had? Would the Dark Lord have even come after Harry in the first place? Would so many deaths have been avoided then? So many questions.

"Thank you, Professors."

"No, Mr. Potter. As we keep telling you, thank you," Professor McGonagall responded with a soft smile. She then headed towards the Floo with Professor Flitwick following close behind.

Harry shook his head after the two Flooed to the hospital wing. He glanced up at the large portrait behind the high-backed chair. He caught his former Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes.

"What do you think, Professor?" Harry asked quietly.

"I think if anyone had reason for a second chance granted to them by the Fates, it would be Severus, my boy." Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Though, I would imagine if it turns out that he is, in fact, alive, then I'll have to endure yet another profanity-laced rant."

Harry snorted. "You deserved that."

"Yes, and no. As I told you before, my boy, I thought what I was doing was right."

"Yeah, and I still say you were a manipulative git," Harry remarked quietly.

"Agree to disagree again?"

"Agreed." Harry smiled faintly before shaking his head. "Is it wrong for me to hope he's alive now? Just so I don't feel guilty and sad that he went through hell for us, for me, Professor?"

"No. It's not wrong at all. Secretly, my boy, I think we all were hoping for him to be alive."

~Lullaby~

A few days later, Harry pulled his sons up into his lap, holding them against him. His green eyes reread the letter from Hogwarts once more before he chuckled, a smiling spreading across his face. It was confirmed. Severus Snape was not the man buried in the black marble tomb. They were one step closer to knowing that Snape had somehow survived Nagini's attack.

"Dada happy?"

"Daddy's very happy, Al," Harry replied, kissing his son's forehead. He watched his eldest child turn his head to the side in confusion. "Do you boys remember me telling you about the brave man I used to know? The man who saved your dad's life more than a few times?" Harry watched James nod while Al shook his head. "Well, it would seem that man's alive."

"Cause of Grandmum Lily?" James asked softly.

"I'm not sure, James." Harry laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure." He hugged his sons closer, smiling and closing his eyes.

"Dada?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"Story," the young toddler begged.

Harry nodded slowly. "All right, little guys." He sighed softly, trying to think of a story he hadn't already told his boys. He had used up most of his stories already unfortunately.

"Bout the man, Dada," Al said, sucking on his bottom lip quietly.

"All right, little man." Harry smiled faintly. "I'll tell you about my first class with Professor Snape." The boys snuggled against him, settling in. "I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect at all. Everyone whispered about how much of a git he was, you see? And your dad followed suit, believing it. Course Snape didn't really give me much to dispute that, though. Either way, there I was, sitting next to your Uncle Ron, when the door suddenly banged open and in walked this tall man with black billowy robes stalking to the top of the class. I was scared of him to tell you the truth. Afraid that at any moment he'd just attack or something. Stupid looking back on it now." Harry chuckled softly.

"Was good?"

"Yeah, Al, he was good." Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Just had everyone convinced he was a slimy git, though. He likely didn't know how else to act but that. Either way, he started off with this scary glance about the room before reading off all our names for roll call. He got to my name, and he got this sort of 'I hate you so much' tone."

"Like what Aunt 'Mione does to Uncle Ron?" James asked innocently.

Harry chuckled. "Sometimes. Yeah." Leave it to his boys to say that. He cleared his throat before he did his best Snape impression. "Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity." He heard his sons' giggles instantly. He smiled. "Well, let me tell you. It was positively scary." Harry shook his head. "And then he started with his speech about potions. We were all hypnotized by his words." He cleared his throat again before starting another impression. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses." Harry let his voice trail off, watching his sons' eyes widen as they were on the edge of their seats. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." The boys' mouths were hung open as they stared at their father, positively entranced. Is that what he had looked like when Snape had said it to his class all those years ago?

"Whoa," James whispered.

"'ick'd," Al said as well—Harry assuming his son was trying to say the word 'Wicked.'

"It was."

"Do you know how to do all that, Daddy?" James asked as Al looked on in utter fascination.

"Bottle fame, brew glory, stopper death?" Harry repeated. When his son nodded, he smiled. "Somewhat. I'll admit that I'm not exactly the best at Potions. I was one of Snape's dunderheads. Your mum is a hell of a lot better than me at it, though. She'd know." The boys snickered, however.

"Maybe he did that then? Stopper death?" little James said.

"Maybe," Harry agreed, shrugging. "I don't know for sure, guys. But what I do know is that Severus Snape was—" He stopped before inhaling. "Is the bravest man I ever knew."

~Lullaby~

In his office several weeks later—since Ginny practically threw him out of their house so he could obsess elsewhere, Harry frowned as he stared down at the map of England, namely the black dot slowly making its way across the map. His eyes remained transfixed on the dot. It had to work. Otherwise, he was back to square one again and nowhere closer to finding it Professor Snape. He grabbed his cup of tea, slowly bringing it up to his lips for a sip. He grimaced instantly.

"Yuck," he said, spitting the tea back into the cup. How long had he been staring at this map anyway? He frowned as the dot continued, though. It seemed as if he had been watching the black speck for days now, knowing it had only been hours, though. There was a knock at the door before it opened.

"Um, Harry?"

"Yeah, Ron?" he replied, not glancing up at his friend.

"Anything yet on Professor Sinistra?"

"The bloody owl is still flying." They had to find her. Somehow, she'd be the key. He knew it.

"But you don't think that, you know, it's circling, right? Like if she was, um, beyond the Veil?"

"No. It's flying diagonally. Has been since about two when I sent it off with the Tracker."

"Two?! That was like three hours ago, Harry! Just where does she live?"

Harry shrugged. "Somewhere northwest of us if the bird's right. It keeps flying up in that general direction." He then snorted as the black dot deviated sharply. "Scratch that. Owl just turned."

"You did use one of the good owls, right, mate?"

"Of course I did, Ron. I wasn't going to have another Errol incident." The men laughed softly, shaking their head as they recalled the late Weasley bird.

"I miss that crazy bird some days." Ron finally reached Harry's desk, leaning forward in his friend's line of sight. "That's near the border with Scotland." He frowned. "She didn't get too far from Hogwarts then. Wait! Harry! Look! It stopped."

"Finally," Harry remarked. "Carlisle," he read, thinking. A mill town if he remembered right.

"Seems like she lives in the suburbs."

"Yeah." He stood up, reaching for his jacket. "If Gin firecalls for me, tell her where I am."

"What are you going to say, though, Mate? 'Hey, Professor. You know that Slytherin git you used to love, well, he's not dead but we don't have a damn clue where he is. Yay?"

"I don't know, Ron." Harry shrugged. "I just feel like I need to be there. I can't explain it." He clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "See you soon." Harry turned on the spot, Disapparating in a nearby open area. He glanced around, making sure no one had seen him before heading into Carlisle.

Ron was right. What would he say? He sighed, recalling Hermione's words then followed closely by Ginny's. The ladies were vehemently against this. In fact, both Ginny and Hermione had claimed that his seeing their former Astronomy professor was only going to open up old wounds. Harry secretly agreed. It likely would. But at least then she would know. He couldn't get past the guilt now of knowing that Snape was alive. They had left Snape there, lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. It would be welcoming to know that Snape was alive now. Right?

He kicked at the ground, finally reaching the outer edge of Carlisle. He carefully removed his map from his pocket, glancing at the speck before heading off in that direction.

He soon approached a modest two-story house where a familiar gray owl rested atop of a chimney. Harry smiled faintly. He had found her. Maybe now they could find Snape, too. He walked along the sidewalk, the house still a few feet from him, when he stopped suddenly.

He caught a glimpse inside the house through an opened window. The sitting room he noted. He could hear the sound of laughter from inside the home. He slowed in his approach. Maybe Hermione and Ginny were right. Maybe this was stupid and reckless and idiotic. So, the professor loved Snape and was devastated by his supposed death ten years ago. Ten years was a long time. He stopped when he watched her walk past the window. She was smiling, laughing, happy.

He heard a male's voice then, velvety warm and clearly happy as well. He could have been wrong but it felt like his house, standing out there looking in—the whole scene partially obscured by curtains. He swallowed again. If it was him, he'd want to know. He continued then towards the door. His nerves were shot. He wanted to bolt, but he couldn't. Raising his hand, he gently knocked.