I

The sounds were muffled, distant, and he couldn't see where they were coming from; everything was dark. He couldn't even remember any words or images to form a thought. He wasn't even sure of what a thought was. But, somehow, he knew he had never been in... wherever he was now and there was nothing there. Nothing. Then, as unnamed fragments of time passed, he started to realise there was a mind in him and he tried hard to hold on to that fragile piece of knowledge, unsure of how to do it exactly. Something seemed to start piercing his mind, struggling to reach him, and there was nothing he could do; he could neither stop it nor allow it. That something did not give up ad he could only wait for whatever was to happen next. It insisted and, suddenly, like a ray of blinding light, the memory of almond-shaped green eyes appeared. That single memory lingered in his mind for a period of time he could not define before, without warning, everything else flooded violently back to him: his neglected childhood, his unhappy years at school, the rejection inflicted by the only woman he had ever loved, the resentment that led him to join dark forces and the repentance that made him fight that darkness, the agonising feeling of losing his love forever and the hateful pain of having to live with the living proof of what he would never have.

Finally, Severus Snape woke up. His eyes immediately reacted to the dim light of the room, so he closed them before trying again. He was then able to focus on his surroundings and realised he was lying down on a comfortable bed. The first thing he saw was the ceiling, painted amber by the lit candles in the room. He tried to turn his head to the right, but was immediately stopped by the pain the attempt caused on his neck and spine. Severus couldn't find his voice to scream while the pain brought him back to the night of Nagini's attack. How was he even conscious? Had he died and was this the Hell he had been given for all eternity? Snape didn't feel dead, but he had no clue on how he could be alive either. Nobody had ever been attacked by the giant snake and lived to tell the tale.

After a while, he heard steps and calm voices outside the room. He eventually convinced himself he was definitely alive; the stimuli and the pain in his body was proof good enough for him. Severus did not try to move again. He had never been a particularly curious person, so he was not willing to test his already weak physical condition any further. The only thin he had left to do was to keep staring at the ceiling and wonder about everything: how had he survived? Who had brought him to this place? Had Voldemort been defeated?

All the questions to which he would not find an answer any time soon were making him exhausted and he was starting to give in to sleep again when he heard someone open the door. In a matter of seconds, a round face with rosy cheeks entered his field of vision and Snape did not like th kind look on the man's face; he simply didn't have the patience for happy people.

"Ah, Professor Snape! You're awake!" the man said cheerfully,

"Where am I and how long have I been here?" Severus asked, only then realising his throat was very dry.

"You're in St. Mungo's Hospital, Professor. You have been here for several weeks now," the healer answered, still in that irritating good mood. " You were severely injured and it took our best efforts to keep you alive. Fortunately, you have been recovering remarkably well."

"I see..." was Snape's reply. "When will I be able to... return home?"

"It depends on your progress, but I am confident we will be able to release you in about two weeks. Of course, the healing process will be long, but you will be able to lead your normal life in the meantime. Anything I else you'd like to know, Professor?" the healer asked and, when the only answer he received was Snape's silence, he continued: "Very well. I will leave you to rest, then."

As the healer left the room, Severus realised that, maybe, some of his questions had just been answered: there was a happy healer in charge of his case and Snape himself was still alive. This could only mean Lord Voldemort had been defeated... but at what cost? He had never forgotten the day Dumbledore had told him that, eventually, Harry Potter would have to die in order to destroy the Dark Lord forever and he certainly had never forgotten how betrayed he had felt. Not that he cared about Harry; he was too much like his father, Severus' arch enemy. But he was also Lily's son and the Potions Master knew he had to honour her memory after his terrible mistake. So, Snape, couldn't help but wonder whether everything had been in vain.

It was a quiet evening outside when a light rain started falling from the sky. She hadn't looked at the clock for hours and it was rather late as she sat in bed reading Daisy Hookum's My Life as a Muggle. She was completely immersed in the book when a scratching sound suddenly startled her. It took her a second to realise it was an owl nervously trying to get in through the window, which made her clumsily jump out of bed to let it in. Her foot got caught in the duvet and she was able to stop the fall with her hands before reaching the window. The owl wasted no time in flying into the room, looking rather annoyed (as all owl do) as it rested on the night stand where it dropped a letter.

She let the bird dry its feathers while she read the missive from Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts:

"Dear Miss Sullivan,

I am pleased to officially invite you to fill the position of Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As Professor Sprout has now retired, she has personally recommended you and, together with your experience and achievements, this was a decisive part of my decision to offer you this position.

As I am sure you understand, recent events in the wizarding world did not allow me to write to you any earlier than today. If you wish to accept this invitation, I will ask you to be at Hogwarts no later than August 31st, so you can welcome students on September 1st, when term starts.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress"

She had been waiting for this letter for weeks after she had sent an expression of interest. Wasting no time, she grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill to write her short reply:

"Dear Professor McGonagall,

Thank you for your invitation. I confirm my acceptance and I am looking forward to be back at Hogwarts.

I will arrive by August 31st, as requested.

Kindest regards,

Deirdre Sullivan"

She gave the owl her letter and a treat before letting it out again. She watched the messenger fly away and let the news sink in: she was returning to Hogwarts, where she had been a Hufflepuff student in her formative years, for the first long term commitment in her life.

Deirdre had pursued her passion of herbology as soon as she finished her compulsory education by travelling the world, learning from experienced masters and developing her skills. This freedom, however, had been threatened by Voldemort and the Second Wizarding War; wizards and witches throughout the world were being forced to take sides and, whoever didn't declare unconditional support for the Dark Lord, was considered to be against him. By the time she returned to England, Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry and Hogwarts and Deirdre's choice was to join a local clandestine group, one of many across Britain, who had vowed to protect and give safe passage whenever needed to muggles who had links to the wizarding world. After all, her own mother was a muggle.

The conflict had given her a new perspective on life and Deirdre decided it was time to settle down and do more with the experience she had: share the knowledge with a new generation, one that could now be hopeful of a brighter future ahead.