"Where's Snape?" Harry said aloud.
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore's portrait corrected severely. Phineas Nigellus smirked approvingly.
Harry's eyes pricked with uncustomary tears as he smiled. "Professor Snape, then," he said. "Where is he?"
"He isn't here," Phineas Nigellus said. "Everyone thought he was helping the Death Eaters at first, and no one set the record straight at the Ministry. No one noticed great Slytherin's contribution to the Dark Lord's downfall."
"His was about the only contribution," Harry shot back, but the cogs in his brain were whirling.
Shortly afterward, he went to the Ministry of Magic, petition in hand, to argue for Snape's reinstatement in the Headmaster's portrait gallery at Hogwarts. Just as it had been when he testified at his own hearing years before, Harry sat in a chair alone at the bottom of a large, circular auditorium with judges seated in tiers rising high above his head. He felt lonelier than even at that first hearing--Dumbledore's place was empty.
"I have come to ask that the late headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape, be honored as has every headmaster of Hogwarts through the ages--with a portrait in the headmaster's office," Harry said.
A suspicious ripple of sound passed through the room.
"Severus Snape, the Death Eater, who was headmaster on Voldemort's orders?" shouted one judge, a fierce-looking wizard with bushy eyebrows. Murmurs of agreement followed this statement.
"Not Voldemort's. Dumbledore's," Harry returned. "Dumbledore made Snape promise to protect the students of Hogwarts during Voldemort's reign of terror."
"But how much did he really try?" said a woman.
"He did more than try," Harry said quietly. "He made sure the students were able to form an underground revolt. And he limited the damage the Carrows did. But in addition to that, at great personal risk, he was a double agent for Dumbledore. He acted as Voldemort's most trusted adviser, pretending to spy on the Order of the Phoenix while actually spying on Voldemort and reporting to the Order. He saved my life many times, as well as Draco Malfoy's and many others. He thwarted the Dark Lord at every turn, and what's more, he did it without the Dark Lord's knowledge, which is saying a lot because Voldemort was known in his lifetime as the greatest Legilimens ever."
Silence greeted this little speech.
"Evidence," said the chief judge, a sober, gray man with a long face and long white hair.
"I bring Professor Snape's memories," Harry said, and held the phial aloft.
The chief judge nodded toward an enormous pensieve in the chamber. "You may pour it in."
Harry did, and the whole chamber of judges leaned forward... .
A few minutes later, they were all back in their places, their expressions sober. A few had dried tears on their cheeks. Some dabbed their eyes or foreheads discreetly with handkerchiefs.
"Mr. Potter," the chief judge said sternly, "you have more than proven your case. Severus Snape's record here at the Ministry will now reflect his heroism and courage in service to the cause of Light versus Darkness. And his portrait will be included with those of the other headmasters at Hogwarts. And further, as you were one who knew him well and are still alive, you may direct the painter with any special instruction." He glanced around the cavernous auditorium for a second. "This hearing is adjourned."
Harry couldn't believe it. He rose from his seat, feeling as though he might float. Many of the judges were descending from their seats to shake his hand and comment on Snape. But after several minutes of that, Harry said, "Where's the painter, then?"
"I'm the painter," said a small man with enormous moustaches, exquisitely waxed.
"Right," Harry said, momentarily flummoxed. "Er--where do you do your work then?"
"Oh, about right here, I should say," the painter said, giving Harry's head a critical frown and pursing his lips. "Just visualize our subject, and I'll take it from there."
"Well, I'd like to see him painted just as he was in life, no glossing over the difficult bits," Harry began.
"No, no," the little man broke in, "just visualize him, my dear sir. I'll get the likeness."
So Harry closed his eyes and at once, a vivid picture of Snape leaped to his mind. He saw it all: the greasy black hair falling in two slabs beside the long, sallow face, the thin lips, the hooked nose, the billowing, bat-like robes, and the remote black eyes. In his mind's eye, Snape had his head tilted back and was looking down at Harry.
"Excellent!" said the little man. "You can open your eyes now."
Harry did and found himself blinking with astonishment. The painting was done and was as lifelike as a photograph, but more so.
"Is that how you envisioned it, sir?" asked the painter.
"It's, it's brilliant!" Harry said. He tore his gaze from the portrait to the painter and smiled.
"I'm so happy you were able to persuade the Ministry," Ginny said.
They were at Hogwarts for the portrait's unveiling. Harry had the portrait covered in cloth and carefully tucked under one arm. So far, the portrait had said nothing, and Harry hadn't seen it since it was painted a month previously.
"Ah, Harry," said Barnabas Hockenberry, the new headmaster. "Good to see you."
Crowded into Hockenberry's office were what looked like the entire House of Gryffindor from 19 years previously, most of Hufflepuff, at least half of Ravenclaw, and a surprising number of Slytherins. Harry could not help noticing Draco Malfoy standing in for the Slytherin contingent. His receding hairline did little to lessen his general air of depraved male beauty. However, when his eyes met Harry's, he gave a reluctant little nod and sketchy salute. Harry jerked his chin in acknowledgment.
"Now then," Hockenberry said genially, "we have made a place for the portrait." He swept his arm up to indicate the blank spot on the wall. "Harry--Mr. Potter--would you do the honors?"
Harry strode to the wall and gently removed the cloth from the painting. It was too low for most of the onlookers to see it. He mounted a small stepladder and hung the picture on the wall. There was a collective gasp as Severus Snape surveyed his students once more. Then everyone began to applaud. The portrait looked smugly pleased, but it didn't move and didn't speak.
"Excellent! Excellent!" said Hockenberry. "Now if everyone will follow me, we have a reception in the Great Hall." He and the Heads of Houses began ushering the crowd out of the room. Hockenberry lingered for a moment. "Perhaps," he murmured in Harry's ear, "you would like a moment with the portraits alone?"
"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said fervently. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall," he telegraphed to Ginny, who only gave him a small smile.
The room emptied and Harry stood, as he had so many times, before the portraits. Dumbledore smiled a bit more broadly, and Harry grinned back. Phineas Nigellus gazed at him somewhat less sourly than usual, and Harry chuckled. Then he raised his eyes to Snape's portrait. Snape's chin was high, eyes faintly contemptuous.
"Potter." It was more a statement than a question.
"Yes, sir?"
"I hear you're responsible for my being here."
"Yes, sir."
The portrait seemed to think about this.
"Dumbledore?"
"Yes, Severus."
"Is my portrait at the Ministry, too?"
"You know very well it is."
Snape smiled a tight, scheming smile.
Then he looked at Harry again, and, in a gesture that made Harry recoil in shock, bowed low.
"Mr. Potter, I am deeply in your debt."
"No, sir," Harry said at once, "I'm in yours. You saved my life--and my soul--many times. I have to apologize to you for--for calling you a coward. I want you to know, sir, Ginny and I named one of our children for you."
"I thought you named one for your father and one for me," objected Dumbledore's portrait.
"Albus Severus," Harry expanded, and waited for Snape's response.
To Harry's dismay, a certain wateriness came to Snape's eye. Harry studied his shoes in embarrassment.
"Mr. Potter," Severus Snape said severely, "you will keep your eyes on your professor while he's speaking."
Harry's eyes snapped up. "Yes, sir."
Snape opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to change his mind. "Thank you, Harry Potter. Lily Evans's son," he said, and bowed again, deeply, for a full second.
"I have to go now--the reception," Harry said thickly. "I'll come back sometime." And he stumbled out of the Headmaster's office. Once outside the door and down the spiral staircase, he paused by the gargoyle, and dashed his hand across his eyes. He inhaled deeply and said, "Right." Then he headed toward the Great Hall.