As the sharply crescent moon rose into the dark blue sky on the evening of 3rd May 1998, bathing the injured castle walls in its soothing light, those who had remained within made their way to their beds and, despite aching hearts, heads and eyes, one by one fell under the spell of sleep.
The gift of Morpheus, however, was not granted to everyone.
On the night after the battle of Hogwarts, the boy who lived again found that- perhaps because of his earlier brush with death but more likely due to months of little food, less sleep and gigantic worries, his brain could not settle into sleep. Nor could Harry find comfort in the soft, warm feather bed which he had longed for whilst lying on the hard, cold ground of the various forest floors that they had camped upon, nor did he manage to scrape any interest in any of the wonderful books that Hermione had- with her usual foresight- gathered together in case of a sleepless night.
No, Harry could not settle- his eyes felt hot and dry, his limbs ached and his brain lurched in his skull, seeking distraction from its own emptiness. Ron- of course- was asleep and Harry didn’t fancy venturing into the girl’s dorms to seek out Hermione (who, if she were sleepless, would have gone down into the common room in any case).
Not wishing to wake the others by pacing around, Harry had finally, settled in a stone framed window, his back against the comfortingly cold glass and knobbly leading, and unravelled the Marauder’s map.
Voldemort’s body drew his eye first- it was still lying where they had left it, thankfully not moving as the frightened rabbit bit of his brain half-expected.
Scanning the map, Harry could see that most of the living residents were in dorms or various guestrooms, some as still as Voldemort (obviously in bed, asleep), one or two pacing or in various corners- probably where chairs or desks were located. Mrs Weasley’s banner was sitting in the corner of her room; Harry wondered if she was knitting or weeping.
Harry’s eyes skirted over the great Hall- too awful, even though most of the dots had disappeared over the last few hours of the afternoon.
Minerva McGonagall, Harry noticed, was in Dumbledore’s office. She was in the far right corner and her dot was shaking violently.
Jumping up, Harry raced out of the dorm, down the stairs and through the portrait hole. The only thing that could make someone’s body shake that hard would be the cruciatus curse!
His footsteps rang first on the floorboards, then more sharply on the hard stone of the castle’s lower floors as Harry sped with all his light-footed speed towards the headmaster’s office. “Sherbet Lemon” he whispered- the new password chosen late last night.
Once, Harry would have burst in noisily but, after several months of hard lessons, he slid open the door and crept over the threshold of the beautiful tower office.
Minerva McGonagall, however, wasn’t being so quiet.
“You can’t bloody forgive me, you lousy scrap of godforsaken paper! You are not him! You’re just a .. a thing. You are not him!”
“The portrait of Severus Snake looked down upon the sobbing woman with an expression of pitying exasperation. “I was a spy, Minerva. I had to deceive the Dark Lord- one of the most intelligent men who ever lived and also, let us not forget for a moment, probably the most paranoid. I had to deceive him, his allies and his enemies! He was a legilimens for Christ sake! I could not afford anyone- anyone at all- to guess!”
“I should have had faith, I knew you from a bairn…”
“For heavens sake, Minnie, I actively tried to deceive you. You are not to blame!”
“Shut up, you… you… scribble of a drawing. You are not him!”
Closing the office door, Harry walked away, his head buzzing. Of all the people who he thought would suffer, he hadn’t considered his old House-Mistress would be amongst the deepest affected. Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks, yes, they had lost kids and, in Andromeda’s case a husband (and sister, though Harry had no idea how the poor woman would have felt towards her sibling, who had murdered her daughter and son in law- possibly, though Remus might have been Dolohov- but Andromeda must once have loved Bellatrix, even if she’d always been rather screwy…)
But, then, Minerva’s children had really been her students and a lot of them had perished, including one who she had distrusted and injured, despite him actually being loyal to their cause right until the very end…
Why had McGonagall gone to talk to Snape’s portrait? Was it for forgiveness, even though she threw it back in the painting’s face? Or perhaps it was to be punished, to hear words of contempt and hatred and scorn, echoing the guilt and self-loathing ringing in her own brain.
If only she could speak to Snape...
It was not a thought, it was a pre-thought- like when you smell heat before realising that it is smoke and something is burning.
The thought that clung onto the heels of the first thought was “I have the resurrection stone.”
Well, not exactly have but Harry new whereabouts he had dropped it. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find and might even respond to an ‘accio’.
A couple of years before, Harry would have hared off to find said stone. Now, however, he decided to consider the matter more carefully.
First of all, whatever professor McGonagall said, Harry knew that the headmasters portraits kept a good deal of their personalities and all of their memories up to the point of death- Phinaeus Nigellus being a case in point, as he was just as nasty and snide as he was in life- so Snape would almost certainly try to comfort McGonagall, just as his portrait had. Snape might have been a right nasty bugger at times- though how much of that was actually acting Harry was not absolutely sure- but he had a heart and, after all, whatever he’d said of James Potter was at least 90% deserved and, really, Harry had been a bit of a brat in hindsight, but Snape had always looked after him and even advised him from time to time- in that double-meaning, sneery way of his- and he’d never said a word against Lily or Harry’s muggle grandparents, come to think of it. And even that last time, when he’d asked Harry to look into his eyes, there hadn’t been any real hatred there. It had been more like pity and even apology- though whether that was for being a git for the last seven years or the fact that he was sending Harry to his death was debatable. But he’d comfort McGonagall and forgive her, that was clear enough in Harry’s mind.
Then, of course, Harry had to consider whether or not it would actually help McGonagall to see the real Snape- would she accept his forgiveness?
Probably not but, then, she’s at least have to accept that he did forgive her, even if she could not forgive herself.
Then, of course, there was the question of what to do with the resurrection stone after he had used it to help Minerva McGonagall.
It had been an easy choice to just leave the stone where it lay- it had fallen without Harry even fully realising it had gone and, once left, it had been out of sight and- almost- out of mind.
However, once Harry held the stone actually in his had again, he was not only holding a bit of rock, he was holding the chance for practically every single person in the wizarding world to say goodbye to a relative, a friend, a teacher or a colleague. Everyone knew someone who had been killed and Harry also knew that not everyone would just be suffering grief; Minerva McGonagall wasn’t the only one who parted on bad terms with someone who had perished- Draco Malfoy, as much of a shit as he was, was probably suffering over Crabbe’s death and what of his Mum? Narcissa looked like a cold sort of person but she definitely loved Draco and perhaps, even now, she was feeling a bit of an ache over the loss of the niece who she’d never bothered to get to know. Death was like that- even if you didn’t like someone, even if they were not ‘your sort of people’ in life, the finality of death, the fact you could never decide to make things better, often came as a horrible shock.
So, all in all there were some pretty compelling reasons to let everyone who wanted to use the stone to say goodbye and, if they needed to, ask for forgiveness. Harry, himself, felt the need to say sorry to quite a few people- if he hadn’t brought the fight to Hogwarts...
But, then again, there were some pretty compelling reasons not to use the stone.
What some people recalled spirits which were not friendly? Okay, Voldemort was unlikely- no one who was not in Ministry custody had any affection for him (and, Harry thought, half the monster’s inner circle would have avada kedavra’d him for a knut towards the end) but what of the other death eaters? Narcissa Malfoy’s sister was Bellatrix!
And, even if that didn’t happen, would it be fair to bring people into contact with something just as dangerous- if not more so- than the mirror of Erised? Even in the Tale of the Tree Brothers, the Resurrection Stone was portrayed as one of Death’s tricks, flaming the second brother’s longing and need to the point that he decided to join his beloved in death. How many people would not be able to say goodbye, would want to see their loved one time and time again? It would be so awful to say no and, what if they didn’t take no for an answer?
Which, of course, led on to the third problem; the Resurrection Stone was, in its way, just as deadly to its owner as the Elder wand; power is a powerful motivator but love can make people do dreadful things too- look at poor old Mr Lovegood; when it came to himself, he was as brave as a lion but, when the Death-eaters threatened his daughter, all principles went out of the window. A person who would walk past the Elder Wand if they saw it lying in the road might well kill for the Resurrection Stone, if it meant the chance of being with their kid for always.
Even Molly Weasley, even the woman Harry loved like a Mum, might go to almost any lengths- not killing him but stealing it- to be with her son again.
So, what should he do? Leave the Stone where it lay, hopefully to be lost forever, or to take it into his keeping- either to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands or to use?
The worst of it was that Harry couldn’t think of who to go to for advice. As everyone Harry knew had lost someone, who could be disinterested, impartial and objective? It would be unfair to ask Hermione and Ron, same with Molly and Arthur Weasley. None of the teachers would be able to give him an answer without considerable pain and anguish and Kingsley Shacklebot has more than enough on his plate.
Dumbledore could have been a consideration but his advice couldn’t be trusted- he’s be set against using the stone because, like Harry, he’d felt the pull of the Mirror of Erised enough to fear Harry being entrapped by it and the Stone- which actually bought spirits back- was a hundred times more alluring and, therefore, dangerous- as Dumbledore had discovered to his peril.
Harry shook his head. It had come to a pretty pass when you realised that the wise old man who’d been the fount of all advice was just a screwed up, lovelorn and conflicted mess, his objectivity actually learned indifference, his decisions as much based on guilt, fear and self-loathing as the facts...
Harry shook his head. If only he had someone who was fearless enough to be impartial, someone who would tell him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted to hear. The stream of consciousness suddenly came full circle- Snape!
If anyone would give him a brutally honest, logically sound answer, it was Snape himself!
The castle grounds were as strangely empty as the castle itself, Harry thought, as he walked under the stars. Of course, it was not as if Hogwarts had ever exactly been bustling at night but there was always someone knocking around- teachers on patrol, Filch, fellow students out on whatever nefarious business was best conducted by moonlight- be it romantic assignations or something more sinister- and, of course, there were always the castle animals; spiders scuttling, the occasional pet- be it toad, cat or dog- minding their own business and, outside, the odd threstral, hippogriff or owl, and the rustle and cheeping of birds nesting for the night.
Now, however, it was as if Harry was the only living being in the world.
Creeping past Hagrid’s empty hut- the half-giant was sleeping in the castle for the foreseeable future- Harry stepped past the tree-line and into the forest.
“Harry Potter”
Harry spun around and, in the corner of his eye, he saw a glimmer of pale blond which, when his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the forest, became Firenez.
“Oh, hi…” Harry breathed. For some reason, he didn’t feel like talking too loudly
“You should feel honoured, Harry Potter, you have been given freedom of the forest. Even Bane agreed.” The centaur said, irony lacing his words like sugar caramelising on a candied apple.
“Err great, thanks” Harry said, feeling, as usual, rather nonplussed in Firenez’s airy presence “Um, I’ve got to go, there’s something I lost, you see…” Harry stopped, aware that he was beginning to babble under the centaur’s cool, calm blue gaze.
“The spirit stone? Yes, we thought that you would come back for it. It is not… entirely welcome here. The spiders, it is true, have become rather less worrisome after their lambasting by Aragog- he was so very, very angry.”
Blinking at this some that surprising non-sequitur, Harry tried to compose his thoughts “You mean, you’ve found it?”
“Yes, indeed. Do not fear, however, it is quite safe. The centaur look to the future, not the past.’
“Centaurs sound very sensible’ Harry muttered, following Firenez into the trees.
“Perhaps, but every species has their own frailties.” Firenez said gently
“Humans spend so much time in the past, Centaur spend so much time peering into the future, that we are both unable to enjoy being alive now. It is a pity our species cannot meld, perhaps then we’d be able to enjoy the gift which is the present.”
“You should write greetings cards” Harry said, feeling himself smile. “You’d earn thousands”
“What sort of cards are those’
“Oh!” Harry realised suddenly that the centaur was thinking of fortune telling cards “Um, they’re like letters you send to people but on the outside is a picture or a motto or something and you open it up and the letter is inside.’
“How interesting” Firenez looked pleased “”of course, we centaurs rarely write but it would be pleasing to send such letters in an attractive fashion. So, the picture is outside, is it on a separate parchment?”
“Err, no, you get like a rectangular bit of card- that’s thick paper, and fold it in half, so you can open it like a book. You write inside the card and, on the outside bit- the bit which would be the front cover of the book, that’s where you put the picture.”
“I see, and do people draw these pictures themselves”
“Err, if they’re young or really talented but mostly you buy them ready made. They can be pretty expensive, especially the nice ones.”
Firenez looked thoughtful “I do enjoy drawing”
Harry shook his head- you couldn’t make this up; going into an enchanted wood to get a magical necromancer stone and talking a centaur into a career making greetings cards? Life was weird- you couldn’t make it up!
The clearing was, on the whole, one of the nicer clearings in the forbidden forest; daisy’s speckled the green, springy grass and, around the boarders, were blossoming trees- apple or cherry or something, Harry did not know- and around their roots, tall, delicate bluebells had sprung. In the centre were three large, pale rectangular stones, with two upright and one balanced lengthways, on top of the two upright stones, sort of like a small version of the stone structures in Stonehenge. The upright stones were covered in carvings- an intricate pattern of cave-painting type animals, whirls and five pointed stars, whereas the horizontal stone was carved with astrological signs. And, on top of the alter was the Resurrection Stone.
“We use this area for our bonding ceremonies” Firenez said quietly “We felt it was… appropriate.”
“Appropriate for what?” Harry asked
“Dear boy” Firenez said softly “Do you imagine that there are not many, many people on the other side of the veil, longing to see you, to thank you?”
Harry’s green eyes opened wide “But… I don’t need… I mean, they don’t need to thank me, quite the opposite in fact…”
Firenez shook his head “They do not see it like that, child. No, they wish to say farewell and thank you. It would be unkind to deny them.”
Harry swallowed, nodded. Closing his eyes, he reached for the Resurrection Stone.
When he opened his eyes again, the clearing was no longer empty.
Fang’s pale form leapt into his arms and Harry embraced the large, enthusiastic dog, his heart heavy as lead. No one had told him that the dog had died but… well it was obvious. How could Voldemort have captured Hagrid whilst the brave, loyal creature breathed? It was heart-breaking.
A flurry of white wings and Hedwig landed on his shoulder, pressing her soft head against his cheek, nibbling at the tears which had suddenly leaked past Harry’s glasses.
Swallowing Harry reached up and petted his owl’s head as he looked around the more restrained, human spirits gathered in the clearing.
His Mum and Dad, smiling, their eyes shining with pride and love. Sirius, Remus and Tonks, loving and warm, with the same pride and sadness. Then Fred Weasley, grinning at him, hands in his pockets, Cedric Diggory, his gaze warm, Lavender Brown smiling shyly, Colin Creevey, practically bouncing up and down. In the background, Harry made out Scrimgeour’s leonine face, identified Ted Tonks and one of the female professors- a tall, angular but pretty woman who he thought might be Professor Vector- and a kid in Hogwarts robes… Nigel? Was his name Nigel W… something? But there were more figures, half distinct, as if they were waiting behind a glass screen- Harry recognised Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Dorcas Meadowes, Charity Burbage, Amelia Bones, Emmaline Vance, Bathilda Bagshot and was that the man in his dream, Frank Bryce? And so many other people Harry did not recognise.
“Harry” Lily approached, her arms open, eyes shining. “We are so, so proud of you, my love, and so, so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Mum.” Harry said, his voice cracking “Sorry I got you and dad killed”
“Don’t be stupid, son” James said, putting his arms around his wife and son “It was Voldemort- had nothing to do with you. You didn’t ask to be born at the end of July, did you? Besides, if I hadn’t had been so stupid as to trust Wormy… If I’d been quicker that evening- I’m your father, that bastard shouldn’t have even made it up the stairs, let alone into your room!”
“It doesn’t matter” Lily said into Harry’s hair “You’re safe, you’re all safe and that’s all that matters now.”
Lily released Harry and she and James stood back “We’ll always be looking out for you, Harry, always but try to not use the stone, except on special occasions, okay?”
“Yes Mum” Harry said grinning through his tears. Special occasions? That was way better than ‘only this once’- which was all he was going to allow himself!
As Lily and James faded, Sirius stepped up.
“Way to go, Harry! I knew you’d do it!” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair into further disorder “You did me proud, kid. You did us all proud.”
Swallowing, Harry said “Thanks Sirius. And, you know, I’m sorry…”
“No” Sirius interrupted him “I’m sorry. I was reckless as usual and I shouldn’t have been on that bloody podium- looked dodgy as hell. It was my choice to be there, my fault. Not yours. Got it!”
“Okay…” Harry replied, hesitantly
“No ‘okay but’- Voldemort was a messed up piece of shit pulling that on you. Besides, you should have been warned that’s the sort of thing he’d pull and I should have been more careful about Kreature, warned you that he was a liar. No, your conscience is clear, kid. You did great and we’re all really proud of you. You did great, do you hear me?”
“Yeah” Harry replied, falling into Sirius’ arms. “Yeah, and thanks for everything, Sirius. I wish we could have lived together and everything.”
“Me too, kiddo. Love you”
Sirius faded, his cheeks flushed at his confession.
“Come here, you!” Tonk’s spirit enveloped Harry in her arms, her thicket of raspberry pink hair blazing like a fire. “Like Sirius said, you did great, Harry. I’m just sorry we weren’t there for you- should have gone in with our minds cool but emotions took over and I was never the least clumsy of people. Thank Molly for me, by the way. Glad she wiped out the bitch.”
“I second that” Ted Tonks said warmly, reaching over his daughter to pump Harry’s hand. “Look after Andy for me, kid, and poor little Teddy.”
“I will” Harry said “I’m so…”
“No more sorrys, Harry!” Tonks said firmly.
“We all did what we had to do” Remus’ voice firmly asserted “We were adults, all of us powerful and talented and capable. We should have destroyed Voldemort, not left it to a young man hardly out of childhood, but we died doing what we had to do because of Voldemort’s choices, not yours.”
Tonks released Harry with a final squeeze and Remus walked up and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder “Well done, Harry and thank you for making the world a safe place for my son. When he is old enough, when he is ready, we’ll both come to see you again. Until then, I hope life gives you every happiness. You deserve it.”
“Thanks Remus” Harry said jerkily.
“Dobby is very proud of Harry Potter.”
Harry looked down and beside him, his huge, gooseberry eyes shining with happy tears, was Dobby.
Harry bent down and took the house-elf’s knobbly little form in his arms.
“Oh Dobby, I’m so sorry”
“No, Harry Potter must not be sorry! Harry Potter is good and brave and kind!” Dobby said fiercely “Harry Potter made a funeral for Dobby, just as if Dobby was a real wizard. Never before has a house-elf had a wizard give him a funeral!” Dobby cried proudly “You even said ‘A free elf on Dobby’s stone!”
“Yeah” Harry replied, tears in his eyes “I thought that’s what you would have wanted.”
“Dobby did want it and now Dobby is free.”
As Dobby’s spirit faded, Harry felt a warm, freckled hand on his shoulder.
“Hi Harry, sorry I didn’t make it to the after-party.”
Harry straightened up to look into Fred Weasley’s amused, slightly wistful eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
“We did it, though. Wish I’d been there to see you take him out.”
“Me too.” Harry agreed, swallowing.
“How’s Mum?”
“Devastated.”
“George?”
“Pretty… pretty shocked.”
“Damn. And the others aren’t much better, I guess?”
“No. It’s hit them all pretty hard.”
Fred shrugged “Well, the numbers were against us and I always knew it would probably be one of us- or Bill, he’s pretty brave too.” The spirit sighed “Look, I’ll say goodbye to them all- that’s what they need, I think. But you’ll need to help them, George especially. He’ll pretend he’s okay but tell Ron to get his arse into gear and help out at the shop- he always wanted to, I’ll give it my blessing- but George needs people around, understand.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thanks mate. Be seeing you!”
Lavender Brown’s shade smiled at Harry, her face as pretty as it had been before Greyback’s attack “Thanks, Harry. I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other better- I guess there always seemed like there’d be more time and, well, we had different sets of friends mostly. Remember me to Ron, won’t you?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry about what happened.”
“You couldn’t be everywhere at once” Lavender said, fading.
Colin Creevy bounced up “You did it, Harry! You did it! Wish I had my camera, it sounds so cooooool! Neville chopping the head off the snake and you blasting V… him!”
“Thanks, Colin”
“It’s alright. I did my best with the death-eaters. I think I got one! That helped, didn’t it?”
“I expect he was the one who would have killed me” Harry said in a choked voice.
“Wow! I saved Harry Potter! Wait till I tell Mum and Dad and Dennis!”
“Might be best if we kept that as a secret” Cedric said, putting a hand on Colin’s shoulder “Thanks Harry, and sorry about the grief Dad gave you. He was upset, you know. But it wasn’t fair on you”
Harry shrugged “You were his son and, besides, I came back alive, didn’t I”
“Yeah, by the skin of your teeth” Cedric said firmly “I was murdered by a fully grown wizard whilst we were both knocked half-insensible. What could you have done, Harry? You did all you could getting my body back to my parents and I’m really grateful for that, so thanks.”
Harry ran his hand through his hair, his mind reeling. Before
“I am sorry I could not protect you, my boy.”
Harry looked into Rufus Scrimgeor’s steady golden eyes. “You did your best” Harry replied “I know that you… I mean, I know what they… I know you didn’t tell them where I was, I mean. Even after everything.”
“I accepted that possibility when I took on the job, would have been a fool not to. Hid the wife and kids where they couldn’t be got at, of course. Not that my wife isn’t a formidable witch” he smiled, fondly “However, do not think I did not know the likely consequences- even had a vial of poison on me- but when it came down to it, I had a few trainees in with me, so I had to choose between downing the poison or shielding them so they could apparrate. I don’t regret the decision, any more than I regret shielding you. I was the adult, Harry, and adults are supposed to protect children- not the other way around. I know we crossed wands a few times- mainly because you were not used to being looked after, mind you- but I did care for you, my boy, and I died satisfied in the knowledge that you were as safe as I could make you.”
Harry swallowed and shook Scrimgeor’s proffered hand “Thank you, Sir.”
“Thank you, Harry Potter.”
After Scrimgeour, there was a line of other people, some of whom Harry recognised vaguely, others who were strangers; each shook his hand, thanked him and moved on.
Towards the end of the line, Harry recognised a witch he had only seen in other people’s memories.
“Harry, I wanted to see you, just for a minute” Merope Gaunt whispered, her voice surprisingly beautiful, “I wanted to say how sorry I am.”
“It wasn’t your fault”
“It was, I… I gave up, you see, didn’t care for myself. I thought my son would be better off without me but I was wrong.”
“It wasn’t” Harry said, gripping the ghost’s twisting fingers “You had a crap hand in life- I know what you had to deal with, I saw it. You just chose the wrong guy- it was his fault if anyone’s, abandoning you like that. I hope… I hope you’ve gone to somewhere better.”
Merope smiled, a sad, broken smile “Thank you, Harry Potter.”
Harry thought, for half a second, the whole strange experience was over. However, two more spirits materialised. One was Dumbledore, young as
Harry had seen him when he visited Tom Riddle in the Orphanage. The other was unmistakably Gellert Grindelwald, as he had been when he stole the Elder Wand.
“This old booby said he should not see you, that you would not want to see him” Grindelwald said, by way of introduction “I tell him, he was stupid, yes, but mistakes happen and he always try his best to do the right thing, so you would understand and miss him if he not come, yes?”
Dumbledore’s spirit actually blushed “I made a good too many mistakes, my dear boy. Too many, for selfish, self-indulgent reasons.”
“You were a booby. Now hug and forgive and move on”
Despite himself, Harry laughed. He opened his arms and Dumbledore enveloped him in a hug.
“I always loved you, Sir.” Harry heard himself saying.
“And I you, dear boy.”
“Good.” Grindelwald said firmly “Now, we go.”
“Before that, the Resurrection Stone, my boy...”
“No more interfering and meddling, it is a good stone, capable of much benefit if used wisely.”
“It is dangerous!”
“So is love, so is ambition, so is power- if you lose temper or do not think before doing or is not listening to others and to history and to your own heart. But fear and guilt and sadness and self-denial are also dangerous. They make us do things which are not good, not good at all. You know of this.”
Dumbledore nodded, his eyes misting. “The root of many of my later mistakes, yes, I am aware. I will not ‘meddle’ as you put it.”
The two figures had started to fade “Goodbye Sir” Harry said quickly “And thanks for everything”
Dumbledore smiled “And thank you, Harry.”
“For the second chance at not being a booby!” Grindelwald replied, putting an arm around Dumbledore’s waist.
“You can see why he was quite the force to be reckoned with” a deep, drawling voice said, from just behind Harry’s left ear.
Harry span around. Behind him was none other than Severus Snape.
“I thought I’d wait until after the fan club dispersed” Snape drawled, but there was a humour in his eyes which belied his sneering tone. “Still, quite some fan club, Potter. Including two of the most powerful wizards who have walked this earth since the time of Merlin.”
“I didn’t think Grindelwald would be like that” Harry admitted, feeling the need to keep talking in case the new-found camaraderie slipped though the gap in conversation.
“The thing no one ever realises about Dark Lords is that they are invariably charming, intelligent and easy on the eyes.” Snape said in a darkly amused tone “If they were raving, baby-eating monsters they would not get very many followers. Even Voldemort was pleasant company, once. Before his first death, he maintained a handsome glamour at all times, rarely killed or tortured- and even then only in the company of individuals with similar… predilections- and justified every racist policy with the most persuasive and logical, even apparently benevolent, reasoning. Had we known his true personality, he would have been brought down by the Ministry before he even began- in pureblood circles, cruelty is forgivable but not mental instability.”
“Because of the Statute of Secrecy”
“No, because it is an imperfection. They’re as bad as breeders of fancy kneezles, purebloods; beauty and charm are just as important- if not more so- than power and intelligence. The Mayfoys aren’t the richest family or even the oldest and Lucius was not exactly top of his year but they are the most glamourous.” Snape said, with a funny twisted smile “Or were. And it was glamour, combined with his boyish charm, which elevated Grindelwald; ‘the Golden Boy’, that’s what they called him- even when he was in his fifties. The irreverent, boyish charm, the humour, the self-deprecation- it was very hard to see him as evil, even when his policies would have subjugated the muggles of Europe to little more than pets or working animals. And even after the end of his reign of terror, many of his followers remained loyal, citing that he was doing it all ‘for the greater good, that he never tortured, never murdered- always an offer of allegiance and, if refused, a good clean duel- with a bag of gold to any widows or orphans.”
Harry shook his head “You almost sound as if you admire him?”
“Only a fool paints all monsters as ugly, Potter. Some of the most dangerous, deadly creatures in this world are the most beautiful- Veela, for example. Do you know how many families have died of starvation or in the gutter because the provider was spied by a Veela on his travels and chosen for her mate? Is that not evil, though her intentions were friendly. Much of the suffering in the world is caused through good intentions and bad intelligence-gathering. On that subject…”
Harry winced- here it comes…
“To set the record straight, I did not hate you, Potter. Or, at least, very rarely.”
“Oh… okay…”
“As you are aware, Dumbledore underestimated his longevity- he could have been here for another fifty or so years if he hadn’t mucked around with this” Snape said, pointing to the Resurrection Stone “However, at nineteen I was, if you can believe it, very much in awe of the Headmaster and believed him to be the fount of all knowledge, so when he told me that I would, one day, need to step into his shoes, under the Dark Lord, I took it as read. I may have a temper, I may have a sharp tongue and I accept that I am not the most tolerant or forgiving of people but I am not, by nature, a bully. I do not take pleasure in making little children cry. However, in order to be considered a suitable candidate for Headmaster, I had to be highly partisan to my own house and treat muggleborns, ‘blood traitors’ and Gryffindors with as much scorn as I could get away with. In your unfortunate case, I had to appear to despise you; anything less than outright antipathy would have been considered high treason by the Dark Lord."
Harry swallowed, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say.
“In short, I was playing a part. Of course, that was not to say that you did not ignite my temper and there were times when I allowed you to merge in my mind with your father, making my anger and frustration more than a mere pretence. However, with Petunia as your guardian, I understood, mostly- sometimes after a strong drink and half an hour bashing my head against the shower wall- you were a terrible task for any guardian and as subtle as a bludger- that you were not your father but very much your mother’s son. However, pretence or otherwise, I was often more cruel than may have been strictly necessary and you were- and still are- just a child, at least by muggle reckoning. For that I apologise.”
“Err… thanks. I’m sorry too, I guess. I mean, I was probably ruder than I should have been, even though… and I never really said thanks for all the times you tried to save me.”
“It was my intention that you should hate me, Potter, it was safest for everyone concerned, yourself included. However, despite its necessity it was not something which gives me any degree of pride and I perhaps took it too far. I shall also have to apologise to Ms Grainger and Longbottom and, I suppose, Weasley.”
Harry chuckled, imagining Ron’s horror struck face. Then he realised something.
“You think… do you think that we… I… that the Stone should be used, then?
Snape looked at Harry, thoughtfully “It is not without risk, quite considerable risk. The Elder Wand is desirable, yes, but its pull is nothing, nothing compared to the Resurrection stone. You would be able to trust no one and, as such, you would be best advised, if you did decide to use it, to do so anonymously.”
“Anonymously?”
“You have the invisibility cloak- wear another cloak on top of that, one with a cowl- and change your voice. Polyjuice would be advisable. And you will need guards…”
“I could ask Kingsley”
“Foolish boy. Aurors are humans too, perhaps more susceptible than most- it’s usually tragedy of some sort that encourages them to join and those who join for glory, foolhardy heroes… they are visited by death early in their careers.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Me.”
Harry scraped his jaw off the floor “You… but, I mean, I heard that people who have, you know, died… they’re meant to move on, they aren’t happy here.”
“Do I look like someone who seeks his own happiness at the expense of others?”
“No! No, Sir, it’s just… why? I get you gave up a… a lot for me, well, for my Mum, to keep me safe but this isn’t… it’s different, that’s all.”
“Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night. I can’t imagine the afterlife is going to hold much interest for me, Potter. I prefer to spend my endless night doing something useful. However, there are conditions”
“Okay,” Harry said exasperated “Hit me with it… them…”
Snape smiled grimly; Potter, in his way, was a lot of fun.