"Have you heard anything yet?" Celina asked Stella the next morning.

"No," she shrugged, nervously playing with her prefect badge.

"Are you going to go ask him after you eat?"

"No. I don't really want to have a conversation in the middle of breakfast. I'll track him down if he doesn't find me by lunch," she said.

Stella quickly entered the dorm room to switch books around before her next class. Her bed was a mess. She knew where everything was, but didn't always see the need to organize it every single day. One book was under her pillow, and the other she quickly pulled out of her bookshelf. A piece of parchment had gone flying as she rearranged her bed. Quickly, she grabbed it and glanced at it. It was her last letter from Pietr, which she'd been keeping under her pillow. He had warmly encouraged her to apply for the Durmstrang exchange program, and written about other things as well.

She pictured his face and his wavy dark hair as she fondly peered at the parchment. She held it close and read the last paragraphs again, as she had already done so many times, imagining his voice and accent as she read:

I cannot say for sure of course, but based on the other exchange students I have met, you would have a great chance of being accepted. You take your studies seriously, and you seem to have a drive to succeed. I noticed that about you very quickly. If there is any way I can help you achieve what you want, please let me (or Lucia) know, and we would be happy to recommend you to the professors that we know.

I really enjoy talking with you. You really think about things and turn them over in your mind. I would love to be able to talk with you every day.

And that was where he had ended it and hastily signed off. She marveled again at how good his English was, considering it was his second language. She felt a flutter in her insides, and suddenly realized she was smiling. Well, of course. There was no real fooling herself. She did like him very much. But for many reasons, she was quick to remind herself. She had to wonder whether others were seeing something that she wasn't yet willing to admit.

It was past noon when Stella's father finally caught up with her. She had just finished lunch and the Great Hall was emptying of students when he strode by her table.

"Well?" she asked, looking up at him with something of a hopeful smile.

"I'd like to discuss it further. Is tonight a good time?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. When?"

He shrugged. "Whatever works for you. Seven? Eight?"

"Seven is good," she replied.

"Very well. In my office at seven," he said, as he strode away.

"It almost sounded like he was giving you a detention," Paige giggled after Snape had left.

Stella shrugged. "That's just how he talks. I'm used to it by now." She glanced over at Celina. "What are you smirking at?"

"Oh, it's just... you shrug exactly the same way as your dad does."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Oh good grief." She gathered up her things and began heading off for class.

"And you roll your eyes the same way too," Celina called right before she got out of earshot. She was acting annoyed but was secretly optimistic. If he wanted to discuss it further, then surely there was hope. He wouldn't make her wait all this time just to say "no." He would have had no problem doing that outright. Of course, he probably had all kinds of hangups and questions, probably from her mother. But she was ready.

Her mother caught up with her at dinner that evening. She sat down next to her as the meal was winding down and students were leaving.

"So what's this I hear about you wanting to leave us?" she asked in a somewhat playful manner.

Stella shrugged. "They have a good program. It sounds like it'd be an adventure."

"I can understand that," she said. Stella was a bit taken aback. "You probably feel like a bit of a fixture here, sometimes."

"Eh... not as much as Dad does, probably." Stella was feeling a bit bad for letting her father be the one to break the news to her mother.

"Whoa, family pow-wow?" drawled Jane, dropping by their conversation. Jane was tall for her age and had a thin face, as well as a slightly nasal voice that got on Stella's nerves very easily.

"Oh look at that, it's over," Stella said.

"What's going on?" Jane asked, more seriously this time.

"Your sister's thinking of leaving us," said Leah.

Stella sighed. "Thanks, Mum."

"What? Whoa, you? Where? Durmstrang so you can be with your boyfriend?"

Stella's eyes blazed. "Shut UP!" she managed to growl, through clenched teeth. "I do not have a boyfriend!"

Jane shrugged and gave her the obnoxiously smug I-don't-believe-you look she had perfected so early on in life. "That's only because the Hogwarts boys are all afraid of you."

"Darn right," Stella said, indignantly. She avoided swearing in front of her mother.

"All right, girls," Leah sighed. She stood up to go but briefly rested her hand on Stella's shoulder before walking away. Jane flounced off after her younger Slytherin friends, leaving Stella alone at the table.

Afraid of me? she thought as she strode away from the table. It was true that she had become the girl no one wanted to duel in dueling club. She was up near the top of the standings, ahead of many of the boys. What was wrong with that?

Stella glanced at the clock several times after dinner, just to make sure she didn't lose track of time. She didn't want to be early, but she found herself easily distracted and not in a very conversational mood. The Slytherin common room was buzzing with chatter and she had a hard time focusing on her thoughts. She also had to send two of the first-years to Professor Pandyrim for a disciplinary issue.

She decided she'd leave and take a stroll around the corridors before any other prefect duties came up, and then head for her father's office when the time got closer.

She passed a few students and the occasional professor, but didn't stop and chat with any of them, as she often did. Her mind was fixed elsewhere. She hated feeling like she was gearing up for a debate, but she was really curious about what kinds of objections her father would raise. She felt a determined need to keep one step ahead of him. Goodness, if anyone was reading her thoughts they'd think he was an ogre.

"Is he mean?" That was the most common question from students in her first year, when they finally heard or figured out that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was actually her dad. She would always just shrug and say "No, not really." She understood the question better as she got older. He did certainly have a strict classroom presence, and required attention and hard work from his students. But she was used to that. He'd always had high expectations of his children, and she wasn't bothered by it. He challenged them, and it usually paid off when they got their OWLs back.

It was still sometimes unsettling to realize that no one else had to read about their own dad in History of Magic class. Well, except James Potter. But he wasn't her year. She remembered the glancing and gawking directed at her when Professor Binns first uttered the word "Snape" during the lesson on the second Wizarding War. Which he followed up by announcing in his usual monotonous and detached manner that Professor Snape was still teaching at Hogwarts. "Er, yeah," Stella had thought to herself. Celina had begun frantically taking notes at this statement, and hissed to Stella "Write this down! It will probably be on the exam."

Stella giggled as she walked, just thinking about it. She was so fortunate to have friends who made her laugh. She would miss them.

She had gone through a phase about a year ago when she'd deliberately sought out books in the library about the second Wizarding War, just to find the mentions of her father. Reading about him from an outsider's point of view felt strange, but also a bit exciting, like a detective story of sorts. It's not that he'd never mentioned his "spy life" to them as children - and when they'd first found out, they would question him about it quite frequently. But reading about it as some kind of objective, factual narrative rather than just an anecdote he would relate now and then... seemed somehow... powerful. Set in stone. Yes, her own father was indeed a decorated spy who had secretly worked behind the scenes to help bring down Lord Voldemort. It was true. All the books said so.

Stella had traveled all over the castle by now, and sat down on a stair to catch her breath. She'd almost lost track of where she was going. As she sat, she glanced up at the wall. This wasn't a way she usually came, and the portraits were not very familiar. One stood out to her. It was a portrait of a woman with bright eyes and red hair. She looked fairly young, and had a subdued smile on her face. The portrait lady caught her eye. Stella looked away. She knew it wasn't polite to stare, even at a portrait. She was surprised when the woman spoke to her. Portraits often struck her as rather self-involved.

"Hello," she said mildly.

"Oh, hi," said Stella.

"You look lost," the woman laughed. "Need me to direct you anywhere?"

Stella shrugged. "No, thank you. I'm not lost, just resting from my walk."

"I see."

Stella got up to leave.

"Wait," the woman pleaded. Her brow was knit in a puzzling sort of way. "Can you look at me for a moment?"

Stella brought her eyes back to the portrait and stepped closer. It was an odd request. Was she at a healer's appointment or what?

"You look somewhat familiar," the woman said slowly. "Can I ask your name?"

Stella was a bit confused, but saw there was no need to be apprehensive of a portrait.

"Stella."

The portrait did not seem satisfied and kept looking, as if waiting for something else.

"Stella Snape."

She couldn't quite describe the expression that passed over the woman's face. It was a knowing look, as if she had just finalized something, connected the dots, made a discovery.

"And what's your name?" Stella asked, now genuinely curious.

"Lily... Potter," she said.

Stella raised her eyebrows. Harry Potter's mother! She was sure of it. She'd heard she had a portrait at the school, but had never thought much about it. Suddenly, she glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly seven.

"I'm sorry, I really need to go to my appointment," she said. "It was nice meeting you!"

"You also," said Lily. "And Stella?"

"Yes?"

"You have your father's eyes."

Stella looked taken aback, but decided not to stick around and ask more questions. Perhaps another day. She walked quickly down to the next level, getting closer and closer to the dungeon. What on earth did that mean? Her father had known Harry Potter's mother? She did some quick math in her head. Well, yes, it made sense... they would probably have been about the same age, even though the woman in the portrait looked significantly younger than her father did now, pushing sixty as he was.

Soon she was at his door. She quickly shook off her encounter with Lily and tried to steel herself for whatever was coming. A lecture about the evils of boys? A warning against Dark Magic, or a belittling of Durmstrang's teaching methods? Time would tell. She knocked quickly on the door and then entered. It was seven o'clock exactly.

Her father was sitting in his arm chair, which was kept slightly off to the side of his desk. He was looking around indignantly as she came in, and Stella realized he must have fallen asleep.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, seeming slightly flustered but soon returning to normal. "Goodness, I was just going to sit and rest for a moment and the next thing I know, you're here. I'm getting old," he muttered.

Stella decided not to make any response to that.

He stood up and moved to his regular chair, and looked at her.

"Right, so. Durmstrang." He paused for a moment. "Your mother and I did discuss it last night, and came up with a few concerns about the whole idea."

"Of course," she muttered.

He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair, before continuing in his deep and commanding voice. "Durmstrang is very far away."

"Yes."

"So, we would have to require you to return for all holidays, and check in at least once a week - by visiting Hogwarts or one of us visiting you there."

Stella raised her eyebrows. "So, you mean, I can do it?"

He raised his finger for a moment. "With a few conditions that I am currently in the middle of detailing."

"Yes, right," she said, meekly, but feeling the excitement inside of her. That was it! She could do it. She had almost been expecting multiple meetings and debates ahead of her.

"I would also like to actually make a visit to the school with you, before any official acceptance takes place."

"Oh good, I would like that too," she said, beginning to smile.

"And," he continued, "I want very much to impress on you the importance of returning to Hogwarts for your last year, for many reasons."

"Oh yes," she said, "I wasn't considering otherwise."

"Good," he said. There was a pause. He seemed to be about to say something, and then stopped.

"So..." Stella began. "Can I send in the application then?"

"Er, yes," he said, shuffling around on his desk and finding the parchment. But he didn't hand it back to her. "I do also want to remind you of a fact that you may already be aware of, which is that Durmstrang takes a very different approach in their instruction of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Yes, I know," she said simply.

"Do you?" he raised his eyebrows. "Have you considered how difficult it will be for you to integrate yourself into that kind of environment when all the rest of the students have already had five years to acquaint themselves with the way things are done there, while you have had none?"

"I understand that I will be at a bit of a disadvantage going in," Stella conceded, "But I'm ready for the challenge. I've been reading up and preparing as best as I can."

His face softened, momentarily. She was every inch his daughter. But then he narrowed his eyebrows again.

"Just remember," he said severely, "The Dark Arts can be very seductive."

"Dad, I know that," said Stella, digging in her heels and fighting the temptation to roll her eyes. She had hoped he would mention Grindelwald - she had studied up quite a lot about how the school had evolved since his time, but she went with what she had.

"Did you know," she countered "that since the end of the second Wizarding War, Dumstrang has observed a yearly event called Remembrance Day?"

"Oh?" he asked.

"It is their way of giving their students a continuous reminder about what the Dark Arts are capable of. It's a very solemn event. They cancel classes for the day and listen to lectures from survivors, and finish with a ceremony in which they pledge to honor the lives and legacies of those who fought against the Dark wizards in the Wizarding Wars, and even before, during Grindelwald's time. That's why Lucia and Pietr knew who you were before they even arrived here, and that's why Pietr was so eager to shake your hand, though you apparently don't even remember that."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "I met many Durmstrang students and family members that year," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't remember the name of every single one."

"Either way," she said, "based on what I've heard and read, they take the Dark Arts very seriously, and that's why they use the approach that they do."

Snape sighed. He leaned back in his chair again. He again appeared to be about to say something, and then stopped. This wasn't like him.

"Stella," he finally said. "You know what I was in my past, don't you?"

"A spy."

"Well, yes. But before that."

"Before that? Well... you were a Death Eater for a little while first, right?"

"If by 'a little while' you mean more than three years in the service of the Dark Lord, then yes."

His voice had dropped in tone and Stella found it almost eerie. As well as his use of "the Dark Lord" rather than "Voldemort," as if there was still some lingering trace of respect or deferment there.

He sighed and leaned forward. "I want to show you something. It's something that will probably make you uncomfortable, but I really think it needs to be done. I'm concerned that too much of your understanding of history has come from textbooks and not from me, and I apologize for that."

Stella looked puzzled. What was he talking about? He beckoned her over to the corner of the room, and raised his wand to lock the office door. She came over to where he was and noticed a table in the corner with an odd-looking bowl on top of it. As she came closer, she noticed a white, cloudy-looking substance swirling around inside of it.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's a Pensieve," he answered.

"Really?" she asked breathlessly. "I've heard of those. They allow you to look into the past, right?"

"They allow you to experience specific memories again. Those are a few of my memories in there. And if you come with me, we can experience being in the scenes themselves as they unfold. Like I said, this won't all be very pleasant. But I want you to see it all the same. I believe you're mature enough to handle it. Shall we?"

He held out his hand. She grabbed it. "Just follow my lead," he said. He leaned slowly into the bowl, and Stella followed after him. Suddenly her stomach lurched as she felt herself falling, falling, falling, and she grabbed on more tightly to his hand.