Aunty Rose settled in the best chair, pulled her shawl around her, and took up her cup of tea. The space in front of her started off empty, but by the time she had finished her cup, all the next generation were there, sitting quietly on the rug and looking up at her with wide, eager eyes. They'd done this often enough over the years and they knew the rules – when Aunty was telling the stories, they had to treat her with respect, or she would leave and not finish. And a story without an end is worse than a story never started.

She ran her eyes over the gaggle of children – none of them hers. She and Scorpius had had no children of their own, but they looked after their nieces and nephews enough that they were all really part of the same big family. With a sigh of resignation, she put down her teacup.

"Well?"

Perce, the eldest boy and proud of his seven years, had obviously decided he was the spokesperson. His older cousin Lily Elizabeth had taken the only other seat by virtue of being ten, but she let Perce speak for all of them.

"Aunty Rose, we're old enough now."

"Hmmm. Old enough for what?"

"Old enough for the story of the Lost Prince."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because, Aunty, I'm seven, and Freddie and Harry are six, and even little Angie is five, and you said that when Angie was old enough you'd tell us all together so as you didn't have to tell it five times over."

"Then let's see. Angie? It can be a little bit scary. Do you think you can cope?"

"I'm a big girl now!" Angie, with her arms around her tattered ferret doll, was sitting up very straight and attempting to look as grown-up as a five year old can. "And Mum said that while you were looking after us, you'd tell us the story."

"Oh did she now? I'll be having words with that Lily Luna. But you're right. I'll tell you the story, but it's much too long for the whole thing on one night."

There was a chorus of "awwwww", which shushed as soon as Aunty held up her hand. "Did I say that I wouldn't tell it? You're staying for three nights, so I'll tell it in three separate parts. After all, that's how it breaks anyway."

There was a fast but quickly hushed "Yay!", then the children crept closer to hear

Conscientia

Many years ago, after the great battle when the evil wizard Voldemort was finally defeated, the body of the bravest man of all disappeared. He had been slain on the orders of Lord Voldemort, but when the survivors went to retrieve his body, it was gone. For fifty years it was a mystery. Some said it had been eaten by the snake…

"Ewwwww," came in chorus from the children.

And some said he hadn't died after all, but had done his last great trick and just got up and walked away, leaving only his memories and a huge puddle of blood.

But the truth was different. He had arranged with the elves that, if he was badly injured, they would take his body to a secret place deep in the Castle. There, he would make use of the potions and healing tools he had secreted against just such an occurrence. What he didn't know was that the room, which was part of the Room of Requirement's magic, had been destroyed just before he was attacked. The elves took him instead to a hidden chamber deep in the Elvish part of the Castle. There, they used their knowledge of time and the power of the Time Turner from the Headmaster's desk, and the abilities they had to hold the decay of food in the kitchens. They cast a spell of holding over his body, according to his orders, to lock it in stasis for two score and ten years. Then, they said, a great and powerful witch would come and release the stasis, mend the wounds, destroy the poison and restore Severus to life.

And so he lay, deep in the Castle, for fifty long, cold, dark years until one of the Heroes of the Great Battle became the next Headmistress of Hogwarts. Hermione Weasley …

"Grandma!" yelled Harry.

That's right – your grandmother. My mother. After Father died, she decided to go back to Hogwarts, and take over from Headmaster Longbottom. But shhh or I won't finish the story.

"Sorry, Aunty."

Hermione set herself up in the office, and it did not take long for the brightest and cleverest witch of her time to realise that there was something odd. Every past Head had had a portrait made, and when they died, the portrait magically came alive. It was something the Castle did.

Except for one.

She paused. Every face was turned towards her, every breath held waiting for the answer.

Severus Snape's portrait hung on the wall, and was as still and as lifeless as a Muggle picture. She had known about this for years, but had never worked out the secret. She had asked every wizard she knew, from Harry to Ollivander to Lucius Malfoy…

"That's Uncle Scorpius's grandpa!"

"Shhhh, Angie, or she won't tell the rest."

"Sorry."

A pause, then Aunty started up again.

She'd asked the centaurs and the goblins. But, standing in the Head's office, she realised there was one group who had never answered her questions. The House Elves.

Hermione clapped her hands and summoned the entire contingent. They listened to her questions, and the eldest and wisest of the Elves, Mimsy, came forward and bowed, and told her that the reason they hadn't answered her was that they had been bound to silence until this day. Mimsy held out his hands, and she took them, and the Elves led her down corridors and tunnels and passages and chambers until, deep in the hidden places of Hogwarts, they came to the body of Severus Snape.

Her magic was great, and she recognised the power that held him in that place between life and death until someone would release him and heal him. But his body was sunken, dried and shrivelled, white as death and still as the grave. He lay on a bed, clad only in a thin robe, so thin that Hermione could see the blotches on his skin, and the scars where wounds of long ago had healed. Only the light around his body from the spell keeping him in stasis told her that he was not actually dead.

"What do I need to do?" she asked.

"He has lost much, and needs to find it again," said Mimsy. "He has lost his mind. He has lost his soul. And most of all, he has lost his heart. If these could be found, then Severus might be made whole, and could be released."

"Then we shall find them, and release him," Hermione said. "Have him brought to the Infirmary, and I shall seek the help of the Wizarding World."

She sent word to the wisest and boldest wizards and witches she knew. The news travelled throughout the kingdom, and there was much quiet rejoicing, yet a great sadness that the Hero lay helpless.

For three whole days, Hermione thought and puzzled through the problem. Then Luna Lovegood came to her.

"What was Severus's great knowledge?" Luna asked.

"His potions," replied Hermione.

"Then find the essence of his potions, and you will have found his mind."

Hermione realised that this was true. What's more, she knew where the essence of the potions was. She went down to the Potions Classroom, where there was a permanent display of relics of Severus. There, in the middle of the table, was the Advanced Potions Book of the Half Blood Prince. She brought it back to where Severus lay, and stood beside him.

"I have your book, Severus. The one belonging to the Half Blood Prince." She laid it on his chest.

For a while, nothing happened. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, so slowly that you could have sighed and cried a dozen times over, a thin pink flush started from his chest and spread through his entire body. From his head to his toes, the skin lost its pinched look, and the pallor of death became the shade of life

"And that's enough for the first night. Now – off and clean your teeth and get ready for bed." Aunty waved her hands at the children, and they stood and started towards the bathroom. Lily, however, caught a look in her Aunt's eye, and waited until the younger children had left.

"What is it, Aunty?"

"It's the story. I'm telling all of you the fairy story, but it's not the truth. And I need someone to hear the truth."

"I can hear it, Aunty."

"Can you? It's dark, and bitter. There's not the ending you expect."

"I'm old enough."

"Then sit, and hear the rest of this part. Someone's got to know it, to pass it on when I'm gone."

"So tell me, Aunty. I won't forget it."

Veritas durabit

Just laying the book on his chest wasn't enough, the elves told her. She had to read it to him. So Hermione pulled up a chair, and started to read out aloud. She read from start to finish, from the introduction to the index, and included all the notes and the annotations that a young lad had put into that book as a part of becoming the best Potions wizard ever. Then she tucked the book under his arm, lying on the bed. And as she did, she noticed that his hand was no longer as cold as the grave and as white as death.

What she didn't know was that as she was reading those words, they had penetrated his mind and started it working again. Slowly, her voice registered in his brain. Slowly, he could make out individual words, and then sentences – because he'd known those words and those sentences for years. As he listened, he tried to work out who was the witch who was reading to him, but he couldn't quite make it out. Her voice was melodious, sweet, like balm on his bitter thoughts.

As the book came to its end, he made a wish.

"I wish she would keep talking. Just for a while."

And she did.

She took his hand and held it, and talked as if he could hear her.

"Severus, come back. Please. Come back to us. It's been fifty years. We know about you and Lily, and about you and Dumbledore. You're the bravest wizard ever. I wish you could hear me."

And she did not know that he did.

"That's the Lily that I'm named after, isn't it, Aunty?"

"It is, my dear. When I tell the story tomorrow night, will you stay and hear the truth?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Aunty." Lily went to bed, while Aunty Rose sat back on her chair and recollected the next part of the story.