Note: this story takes place within the first chapter of the Philosopher's Stone. This starts after the paragraph on page 16 which ends with: "she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it"

Dumbledore stood stiff on the spot. His sparkling eyes were narrowed as he looked across the street; he raised a long, thin hand to silence Professor McGonagall. He thought that Privet Drive would have at least given the two of them some privacy, but it seemed as though someone had arrived and was watching.

'Albus,' Professor McGonagall muttered in an uneasy whisper, his tense state scared her.

'Not now, professor,' Dumbledore still spoke gently, 'it seems that we have company.'

Across the darkened street was the silhouette of a third visitor. The debate over the young Harry Potter had bought them time to enter the street unnoticed, although Dumbledore had still managed to recognise the intrusion.

The figure was tall, and had long hair which fell down to its shoulders. A heavy cape then fell from the figure's shoulders down to their ankles in a loose-hanging fashion. The silhouette would have been perfectly disguised with the lack of light; however they were stood in front of a luscious green hedge which gave them away. The character's silhouette slowly reached into its cloak, and pulled out a long pointed stick.

'Show yourself!' Dumbledore spat in a sharp manner which made Professor McGonagall jump, as she had rarely heard him use this tone of voice.

'Perhaps,' Professor McGonagall started, deciding how to reason with the white haired wizard. She told herself it was just a frightened muggle wandering home, confused at the sight of the two of them disputing the recent revelation.

'That's no muggle woman, professor,' Dumbledore whispered softly into Professor McGonagall's ear as if he had just heard her thoughts out loud.

The figure trembled slightly and took a step forward, the cloak flowed gently against the air as its wearer walked swiftly. It got to the middle of the road and stopped again. Although its eyes were invisible in the dark night, Dumbledore could tell that they were focused on him.

Dumbledore recognised the figure and summoned a jet of red light which flew from his waistband and darted toward the mysterious figure. Only a split second before the flying spark hit the person, had they managed to create an electric blue shield that formed a temporary bubble around themselves. The red spark was absorbed by the blue shield and then both of the luminous creations disappeared.

'We don't need your trouble tonight,' Dumbledore commanded, griping onto his wand which was still stiff against his waist. 'A day of celebration throughout, surely even you feel a lease of new life.'

The figure kept quiet, its wand was raised and pointed at Dumbledore. The long arm that held the wand did not even quiver. Taking a further step forward, he lowered the wand. The distance for duelling was too short.

'You're free, are you not?' Dumbledore asked, returning to his gentle, quietened voice. 'Time to make a new start, a new name for yourself, surely it's time to forgive and forget.'

'How dare you speak ill of the dead,' sounded a hard, cold, familiar voice. The figure approached Dumbledore without one ounce of fear.

Professor McGonagall's lips trembled as she uttered an incantation which lit the end of her own wand with a bright white bulb. Her hand quivered as she pointed it at the face of the fearless person. As she realised who it was she almost dropped her wand with a high pitched shriek.

The long hair of the figure was of a dark black, falling to his shoulders with a matted greasy look. Some wild streaks of hair fell before his face in almost ringlets. The fallen curls were brushed to either side by McGonagall's wand like parted curtains to reveal two cold, empty-coloured eyes. An abnormally large nose lay between them, and thin lips parted every now and then as he breathed.

'Severus,' Dumbledore named the figure with intrigue, 'so Voldemort is definitely dead?'

'Don't be so foolish,' Snape spoke sharply to the wise old man, 'his disappearance act is not one to ponder over.'

'Rumour has it that he has been stunted, set aback, some people even say killed. Please Severus, how true are these?' Dumbledore spoke like a headmaster to an upset child, but a look of desperate need fell across his aged face.

'The Dark Lord has vanished, indeed that is true.' Snape spoke uneasily, 'and the Death Eaters have disbanded. If we…they stay together, they'll be too easily targeted by the Order. That group of mindless cowards don't want any trouble now that their precious leader is nowhere to be found.' Snape's eyes narrowed with a look of hatred.

'You've cut yourself away from them too, Severus. Surely you are no better.' Dumbledore couldn't understand where he was coming from.

'Pardon my rudeness, sir, but there you are wrong. I was the first to leave his company.' Snape looked across at McGonagall, and noticed that fear was still taking over her thoughts. He wondered why she was so scared of his presence. Looking back at Dumbledore he shook his head, 'I thought you of all people would have understood my actions.'

'Voldemort trusted you, Severus. It was even forecasted that you would rein if he fell, are you going against your master's decision?' Dumbledore seemed disappointed in Snape.

'I want to help you,' Snape ignored the question as he spoke his intentions. 'This isn't out of cowardice, but if…when the Dark Lord rises again, times will have changed.'

'You will live the rest of your life as a known traitor,' Dumbledore's disappointment turned into disgust. 'Yet I have lost little respect for you.'

'You think I am devoted to betrayal? You have to realise, sir, that there is a lot of that going around.' Snape wanted Dumbledore to see through his eyes. 'You of all people believe in good and bad, right and wrong?'

'That accusation is false Severus,' Dumbledore commanded order, 'but I do expect people to stand in their ways, to stick to their decisions.'

'I am only human, professor,' Snape reasoned, 'we are allowed to make mistakes, and I confess I made a major mistake. All I am asking for is a second chance.'

'What do you require from Albus?' Professor McGonagall spoke up, the fear was no longer ringing in her voice.

Snape glanced at Professor McGonagall, he half wanted to ask her why she was speaking for Dumbledore. He needed to be interrogated by nobody of unnecessary importance, if anyone needed to gain information it should have been Dumbledore. 'Hogwarts,' he said simplistically, 'in ten years time the Potter child will begin his education of wizardry. If he's as human as the rest of us, he'll want to avenge his parents'…his mother's death.'

Both Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall looked shamefully and wide eyed at Snape. Anyone would have thought that he had just asked them to sacrifice their own lives. Snape alternated his needy gaze between the two of them, hoping that one would see reason. That was all he needed, one of them to see reason.

'Appoint me as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and I will look after the Potter child. I will teach him everything I know, so when the day finally comes, he can achieve for good.'

'Severus, you have to let go.' Dumbledore responded in his soft, comforting voice. 'Harry will not be her; he'll be a constant reminder of everything that turned you to Voldemort.'

'You can't let him in, Albus.' Professor McGonagall intruded, 'the Dark Mark is undoubtedly on his wrist, for all we know, he could be turning Potter into the next he-who-must-not-be-named. He wants to brand a murderer!'

'Under the watchful eye of Dumbledore, I think you'll find that any man to attempt that is a fool.' Snape was most surprised at that presumption.

'Well I think that any Death Eater who can come straight from the news of you-know-who's disappearance and beg Dumbledore for forgiveness is a fool.' Professor McGonagall spoke back in a sharp tone.

'I am not seeking your forgiveness, sir,' Snape turned to Dumbledore and gave him a half bow.

'And you are not required to respect me in such a manner that commands a bow every time you speak to me.' Dumbledore began to grow sidetracked of why the heartbroken Prince had come to speak to him.

Professor McGonagall redrew her wand, which she had lowered once Snape had proved himself as less of a threat than anticipated. This time she pointed the tip only inches away from his nose. 'In all due respect, Severus, we need you to leave now.'

This time it was Snape and Dumbledore that froze gobsmacked. Snape knew that Professor McGonagall didn't think highly of him, but to command authority higher than Dumbledore himself was disrespectful to the great wizard in Snape's opinion. He clung onto his own wand which still lay by his side in his hand. He looked across to Dumbledore for support.

'Severus, I think Minerva is right. There are several other matters which we have yet to discuss and it really does require a large amount of confidentiality.' Dumbledore looked at Snape with a look of faded hope across his eyes.

'Very well then, you have spoken.' Snape turned away quite casually and began to walk down the pavement. Professor McGonagall remained with her wand locked on Snape as a target, but Dumbledore reached out and guided her arm downwards. As they watched the cloaked man retreat into the darkness, Snape spoke one last time. 'You'll see me again soon, Dumbledore,' putting disappointed emphasis on the name of the wizard he sought to converse with.

Professor McGonagall watched the gaze of Dumbledore as he followed Snape's movements. After a minute or two, Dumbledore's gaze turned into a glance and he turned his head back to face her.

'Pardon me to speak ill of your authority, but I was under the impression that you wanted to give him the satisfaction, professor.' Professor McGonagall asked still in a sharp tone.

'You're right, professor,' Dumbledore sighed, 'you shouldn't speak so ill of my authority. However part of me reaches out to Severus, have you ever been burned by the powers of true love?'

Professor McGonagall looked confused as Dumbledore stepped forwards and into a world of his own. She knew the man often spoke crazy thoughts but for some reason his comment seemed to make sense. 'When is baby Potter going to be here, Albus? Surely he should be here by now.'

The story then continues with the paragraph beginning:

'Hagrid's bringing him'