Hello everyone! It's nice to be here again, and I'm sorry for leaving you for so long! Just right after I finished the dreadful National Exams, College Entrance tests killed me. But I passed! I just hear the announcement at my school yesterday and the teachers said that I got the highest mark in my school for English language, Indonesian language and biology! I'm so happy! My chemistry and physics are very good too, but my math score is a bit disappointing. I studied really hard for that!

Now I thank you all for the reviews and positive response from you all; they made me a very happy person! And I want to thank Bloody Rotten Queen once again for the ideas you gave me. I will use it in the future for sure!

Now, congratulations to those who could figure out the clues! Don't worry if you can't, since I've decided to reveal the identity of her child in this chapter. I hope that this chapter is satisfying for all of you :)

Oh right before I forgot, Tyki's dead. And I changed the chapter's title. Read the note at the bottom please?

Chapter Three,

Karma.

Severus tugged on his mother's hand as they walked through the various vendors in the muggle market. His mother glanced down at him and smiled at him fondly, but that beautiful smile faltered when she saw the upset expression on her son's face. She pulled him to a corner and knelt in front of him, ignoring the dirt that may dirty her dress. She caressed Severus' cheek, brushing his hair to the side.

"Why the long face, Severus? Is something bothering you?" she asked him. Severus bit his lower lip and looked down at his feet. Something had haunted his mind for the past few days, but he had never found the courage to voice it to his mother before today.

"Father… is father going to be alright?" Severus asked hesitantly. His mother looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. "I mean… he's getting sicker everyday… I… I am worried…"

He watched as his mother closed her eyes and bowed her head, her tresses of snow white hair following her movements. When she opened her eyes again, Severus saw that it was a little misty and he immediately felt bad. He should have never asked it.

"Your father will be alright, Severus." She said, pulling him into a hug. "At least… I think for a good couple of years. Maybe until you've grown into an adult, but I won't lie to you. The force keeping him alive until now is weakening. I could do something to tie him longer to this world, but… it won't last."

Severus bit down his lip again, feeling his own eyes watering. Seeing this, his mother smiled weakly at him and brushed his tear away. "Don't cry… listen to me, Severus. Humans… humans are meant to be mortal. They cannot live forever. Yes, your father will die someday, as most humans are—you will too, someday—and there's nothing we could do to stop it, but…" she sighed, kissing his forehead lovingly.

"But… but at least… we could do our best to ensure that he died a happy man, couldn't we? He wouldn't say it out loud, since he is a bit shy," she grinned, "but he loved you very much. Be there for him, stay by his side… then I think… he wouldn't regret anything. Promise me that you'll stay with him, alright?"

"Alright… I promise..." Severus whispered, making his mother smiled at him again.

"Mother…" he whispered, still not fully awake. He blinked a few times to rid himself of the sleep though when he came to his senses, before he sat up.

"It's a dream, huh…" He muttered. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the dream as much as he could; trying to remember the feel of his mother's fingers brushing his tears away when he cried, and her warmth comforting him when he was distraught… he opened his eyes and caught sight of the abomination branded on his left arm.

"You've made your choice a long time ago, Severus." He told himself, smiling bitterly as he eyed the fading color of the snake crawling out of a skull's mouth. "What are you regretting now?"

He ran his hand through his hair harshly.

"Damn it!"

"P-Professor Snape … the-there's a message for you, Sir," a poor second year Hufflepuff stuttered from the doorway, holding out a piece of torn parchment in his hand and offering it for the sour man to take. "It's from the Headmaster."

Now his day is complete, Severus thought as he scowled at the boy. Not only he had to wake up like that, the Headmaster just had to bother him this early in the morning. Even though Severus Snape was known for being constantly angry and could get irked by the smallest of things, there's one absolute thing that could absolutely annoyed the man. It was Albus Dumbledore: the man who saved him from being imprisoned, the man who was like a grandfather to him, the man who was his godfather. Anything that the man could want from him after the morning that Timcanpy delivered him a letter from them were sure to be a trouble for him.

"Go back to your class, tell your professor that you're doing errands for the Headmaster," he said after snatching the note from the poor, terrified boy. Pitiful, he thought. "Class dismissed, cast a stasis charm on your potions; you will be continuing it on the next meeting," he paused, before deciding that he should torture those lazy Gryffindors a bit more, "And write me an essay consisting of at least ten thousand words about this potion. I want it done by the next meeting."

Groans and moans about how evil he was came from the directions of the Lions, while his Snakes dutifully nodded their head, unlike their indolent rivals. He walked away from the class quickly but gracefully, making his black robes billowed behind him as if being blown by an invisible force. He swooped down the floors and made his way to the seventh floor, to the Headmaster's Office, sourly muttering the password to the gargoyle guarding his door and walked up the stairs.

"You wish to see me, Headmaster?" he asked the old man coolly, keeping his face calm and serene and completely neutral, betraying his curiosity when he saw the Headmaster wearing a blue robe several shade deeper than the midnight sky. It was the darkest color that the Headmaster had—one that had never been worn before today. The man had said that he didn't like it because the color is too dark but had to keep it since it was a gift, but why did he wear it now?

He was met with old, tired blue eyes of the headmaster. The man sighed and took off his glasses, wiping it on his robe. Severus waited until he put it back on his face with an impatient scowl. "Could you please hurry a little, Headmaster? Unlike some others, I do have a class to teach in about…" he glanced at his pocket watch idly. "Fifteen minutes," he stressed out. "And quit using students as your personal owl, they irritates me." He added with a scowl.

The walk to the man's office took some times since he couldn't just apparate there directly. If this took more than five minutes, then he would be late to class. Severus Snape was never late so this had better be quick or he'll hex the Headmaster, godfather or no.

"I told you to call me Albus, Severus," he sighed again. "Sit down; would you like something to drink?"

Grudgingly Severus in front of him sat down on one of the conjured armchairs. "No. Just get straight to the point; what do they want from me this time?" he asked disdainfully.

"No, Severus… they didn't want anything from you, but I'm afraid it's not good news," his godfather began with a sigh. "Yuu-kun—your father passed away…"

"Have you heard yet? They said Professor Snape's father died a few days ago." Hermione Granger told one of her best friend, Ronald Weasley, once the food had appeared in the dinner table.

Ron, who was in the process of inhaling his food, choked and started to cough like a dying man. Seeing his friend in trouble, handed him a glass of water, which the redhead snatched immediately. He gulped down the water quickly to soothe his aching throat before he stared at the girl incredulously.

"You're kidding! He actually has parents?" he exclaimed insensitively. Really now, even if the professor was seated far at the Head Table, he could hear him if he shouted it that loud!

Hermione huffed at him. "How do you think he was born then, idiot?"

"You mean you don't know?" the redhead asked, clearly baffled by the idea of his know-it-all friend not knowing something very obvious to him. "He was sent here to torture us—from hell!"

The girl's eye twitched. "And he asked me why I keep calling him an idiot." She muttered.

"Who do you heard it from, anyway?" Ron asked her seriously this time. Hermione stuffed a piece of her dinner in her mouth, carefully chewing it and swallowed it down before she answered the redhead's question.

"The paintings were gossiping about it since lunch time, they keep crying and sobbing and saying how 'The Lady' must be very distressed from his death. Apparently they knew his parents personally." She said. "Who do you think 'The Lady' is? Do you think she's his mother?"

"I don't know," her fiend shrugged. "It's kind of hard to imagine what kind of person his mother is… to give birth to such a vile man…" he shuddered. "Why is the bat still here anyway? His dad just died and he didn't go home to pay his respect?"

Hermione just huffed at him, even though he was wondering about that too. Her wandering mind was brought back though when her redheaded friend opened his mouth again.

"Oh, by the way, have you finished your Transfigurations essay yet, Hermione?"

As they fell into their usual conversations and banter, Severus Snape, who had accidentally overheard their conversation, glowered at them from the head table. Insolent brats! Gossiping about a professor and badmouthing him in public loudly like that, as if he couldn't hear them! He pushed his plate away and drank the wine from his goblet.

"That is no concern of mine anymore. I have cut all my ties with them years ago; you know this very well, Headmaster."

His eyes hardened and he slammed his goblet down, making the half-giant beside him jumped in surprise and half of the students—who had already heard of the newest gossip and were watching him for some sort of reaction—flinched badly. He glared at his godfather when the man stood up once the tables were cleared of foods.

"Everyone," the Headmaster began, "I want to inform you that there will be a slight alteration to the current Hogwarts curriculum. After some discussion that I had with the Board of Governors several days ago, we agreed that due to the concerning marks that the most of you get in the Potions subject, another professor will be hired to teach and guide you."

When the Headmaster paused to take a breath, all of the Gryffindors, most of the Hufflepuffs, some of the Ravenclaws, and none of the Slytherins rose from their seats and cheered loudly—with the exceptions of the Slytherins—their faces radiating pure happiness. Severus glowered harder at the headmaster, realizing what the old man was planning.

"SILENCE!" the Headmaster bellowed loudly and waited for a few moments for the rest to quiet down, before he cancelled the charm with a softly spoken 'finite'.

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, another professor will be hired to teach you, but she will only teach First until Fifth year. If you passed your Potions OWLs and wished to continue to take Potions for your NEWTs, then Professor Snape will still be the one teaching you." The Headmaster continued. Seeing his students' spirits deflated, he chuckled a little. "Now, now, Professor Walker is a very good friend of mine and an excellent professor! She used to taught Potions here too from 1939, until she was forced to quit due to her pregnancy in 1959. Fortunately, she agreed to take back her positions here at Hogwarts after I persuaded her for some time. Unfortunately though, I can't introduce her to you tonight since she is still preparing for her stay here."

The Headmaster continued to chat for a few minutes. When his topic began to stray though, Professor McGonagall reminded him with a softly spoken but harsh "Albus!" and the students laughed when the Headmaster blushed. Severus though was far from amused. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the strings of curses he'd like to flash at his godfather's direction.

He knew what the old man was trying to do, and he won't fall for it.

Eileen removed the white gloves on her hands, dropping them on the floor below. She closed her eyes as she breathed in and out, trying to keep her emotions calm and only barely succeeding. Blinking back the wetness in her eyes, she gently took the old sword that belonged to her late husband from its case and held it across her face.

Mugen was still in the perfect condition as it was first made, with the black blade gleamed beautifully in the dim light of the candles on the corners of the room and the aura it gave was still as deadly and dangerous as it used to emit when it was still actively used for destroying "Akuma".

She put on a fighting stance and swung the sword around experimentally. Although it had been such a long time since the last time she handled a sword, her movements were smooth and elegant, almost as if she was dancing. She stopped after a few movements and slid Mugen back into its sheath in one swift motion.

With a sigh she grab a white cloth she'd brought into the room with her earlier and wrapped it around the Innocence before tying it up with her husband's most frequently used hair tie, which is just a small but long strap of a crimson colored cloth.

She held the sword to her chest with closed eyes.

He's gone.

He's really gone.

"What am I supposed to do now that you're not here to guide me?" she whispered softly. "Yuu…"

On Sunday night Harry headed to the directions of the kitchens since he didn't eat in the Great Hall earlier with the rest of the students, busy practicing the Summoning Charm. It was the twenty-sixth already, Harry thought with a sigh. Three more days until the First Task, and he still hasn't mastered the spell yet. Sure, he could do it, but not perfectly. Out of five tries, only two of his attempts were successful.

Entering the room, Harry found himself entranced by the sight of a young woman with a snow white hair sitting neatly on one of the chairs with a mountain of food in front of her. She seems like she was lost in thought, absentmindedly eating the foods but still looking very prim in doing so. There was a long scar staining the left side of her face but she was still very beautiful if not a bit pale.

She could use a smile though, she looked terribly unhappy.

The young woman finished her mountain of food in less than five minutes. She wiped her lips with a napkin and then reddened when she finally noticed him staring at her from where he stood at the door. It was a very pretty blush, in Harry's opinion. Way prettier than Cho Chang, Harry noted with a blush of his own.

"Oh sorry, I didn't notice you there," she said, her voice soft. "You can sit with me if you want."

And Harry did just that on the chair opposite of the girl. She sent him a small smile and Harry felt his heart beating faster. The girl was even more beautiful with a smile like this.

"Are you one of the Beauxbatons' students? I think I've never seen around you before." He asked a bit nervously, making the girl giggle in amusement. Harry felt his face heating hearing her laugh. It was a gentle and calming sound, a soft and warming tune and Harry found that he quite like it, though he was embarrassed at being laughed at by the beautiful girl.

"No, I'm not one of the Beauxbatons girls." She denied softly.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You're from Durmstrang then? I was not aware they brought any girl as one of their delegation."

"They didn't," the girl answered vaguely with a small smile. "Lumaa, can you prepare some tea for us please?" she asked a tiny house elf, who nodded at her vigorously and chirped a loud, "Rights away, My Lady!" before scurrying away to make the tea for her.

"So what brings you here, Mr. Potter?" she asked, trying to start a conversation. Harry look surprised that she knew his name even before he had the chance to introduce himself before he slapped himself mentally as he remembered that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, of course she knew of him!

Harry was about to answer her when his stomach growled loudly, startling the girl and some of the house elves. He blushed and then patted his belly. "I'm sure you can interpret what that growl means."

The girl sent him an amused look. "Did you not eat dinner at the Great Hall with the rest of the students earlier?"

"No." Harry said, "I was busy trying to master the Summoning Charm for the First Task."

Lumaa the house elf popped beside her and setting the tea she requested on the table. She asked Harry if he want some, but Harry refused her offer. Before the house elf could leave though, the white haired girl requested her for a simple meal for him. Harry shot her a grateful look, which she returned with a smile.

"While practicing the spell is important, you can't just ignore your need to eat, Mr. Potter. A growing boy like yourself needs all the nutrients you can get." She said before sipping the tea from her cup. "Otherwise you'll be stuck at that height." She teased him.

Harry mock glared at her, but still ate the food when it arrived in front of him. Yes, he was ashamed to admit that he was a few inches shorter than her, but he still has his growth spurt, right? The young woman just shook her head fondly as she got back to her tea Harry was watching her though as he eats. He noted that she was dressed like a muggle from the 18th century, a dark red and black dress that looked a bit heavy, but she looked comfortable wearing it though.

"Why are you wearing a dress like that?" he asked her, his curiosities taking over.

The girl looked confused. "What do you mean, Mr. Potter?"

Harry pointed at her heavy-looking dress. "That dress; wizards and witches usually wear robes right?"

She looked down on her dress in surprise, clearly did not expecting that sort of question from him. "Oh, that… well… I've been wearing this kind of clothing long before I find out about the Magical World, so I am more comfortable with wearing this rather than those robes." She explained, before she let a small laugh escaped her lips. "I used to be expected to wear these kinds of clothing, so I guess the habit stuck?"

Harry nodded to her words, before he realized what she had said before. "Find out about the Magical World? You're a muggleborn then?"

"No, I'm a pureblood. I was raised by a muggle though," the girl explained. "I didn't find out about the Magical World until I stumbled upon the Leaky Cauldron when I was in my late twenties."

Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Your late twenties?" he swallowed his food with difficulty, not believing his ears.

"Hmm…" the girl only hummed as a response, which frustrates Harry to no end. Harry was about to ask her to clarify on the matter, but before he could open his mouth a snitch came out of nowhere and fluttered above the girl's head who smiled at it fondly.

"Tim. Allen's lost again, didn't he?" she asked the golden snitch with an exasperated sigh, though Harry could tell that she was not really upset with this 'Allen' person. Harry saw the snitch bobbed itself, as if it was nodding to answer her question. She smiled at him and got up from her chair with the golden snitch fluttered above her head. "I have to go now. Come see me tomorrow, Mr. Potter, maybe I could help you with that spell you mentioned before. Goodnight."

She was gone before he could say a "Goodnight" back at her.

Harry didn't notice that the golden snitch she owned was the same golden snitch that had delivered the letter to the Headmaster a few days ago.

Monday morning comes too quickly and Harry was eager to find out about the mysterious new potions professor who will be taking over Snape's place for the next two years until his OWLs. Opening the door though to his new class though, Harry saw the girl from yesterday evening was there in the front of the class, singing softly to herself as she wrote something on the black board.

It was a beautiful melody, and Harry found himself entranced by the beauty of her voice. She continued writing for a few minutes as Harry observed her from the door. When she stopped singing as she finished whatever it is she was writing, Harry opened his mouth to call out to her, but someone knocked onto his back, hissing dangerously at him to move it lest he wanted to be hit again.

Harry glowered at the person—Malfoy—and took a seat at the back of the classroom, waiting for the other students to pour inside the class as well.

"Good morning everyone," she said softly in greeting as the last of the students had been seated, a smile on her face. "I am Professor Eileen Walker and I will be teaching you potions making from now on until the time you take your OWLs."

Many jaws dropped at her revelation. Of course, Harry could understand them, as the girl—Professor Walker—looked no more than seventeen! The newly revealed professor didn't notice their reaction though and continued talking, acting like she was used to an occurrence like this.

"Before we begin, I want you to know there are three rules in my class that I expect you to obey no matter what. One, there will be no House affiliation, name callings, and bullying in my class. I don't care if you're a pureblood, half-blood, muggleborn, Slytherin or Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw; once you step in my class you will forget all those things and you will work together as a group. I will not tolerate any kind of prejudice in my class."

Professor Walker eyed the Slytherins and Gryffindors both with challenging eyes daring them to protest, which no one did. Harry saw that Malfoy was scowling at her, but didn't say anything. Once she was sure that no one will protest, she nodded to herself in satisfaction and addressed them once more. "Number two, no sabotaging your fellow classmate's potions. If I caught you doing that, I will take you straight to the Headmaster and let him decide what kind of punishment I should give to you. Three, I want you to ask for help if you have any difficulties understanding the materials I'll be teaching you. Do any of you have questions before we begin?"

When no one raised a hand, she continued, "No? Then as long as you don't break these rules, we'll get along just fine, I think. This year until the end of term we will be covering mainly healing potions, including the Wit-Sharpening Potion, Deflating Draught, Skele-Gro, Burn-healing Paste, Wound-cleaning Potion, and Revive Potion. But for today I want you to grab the ingredients I've wrote in the blackboard from the storage room over there and bring two pieces of each ingredient to your table, because I'm going to evaluate your methods in preparing your potions ingredients. Let's start from Ms. Granger, shall we?"

After she made all of the students to chop, ground, and do things to the ingredients, she frowned at the result that the most of them had. "No wonder you are abysmal at potions then. Out of all of you, only Mr. Malfoy here can do everything correctly. Ten points to Slytherin." Malfoy's chest puffed up with pride from her comment. "You will not be able to get into Potions NEWTs class if you keep this up. Preparing your ingredients is the most important part in potions making, you know. Now, can anyone tell me the reason why?"

Harry had a theory, but he didn't dare to raise his hand, as even Hermione did not raise hers. If Hermione can't answer it, his answer must be wrong as well. Professor Walker, seeing that no one dared to raise their hand, turned to Draco Malfoy again who smirked at the Gryffindors as he answered her questions. "Because when you are preparing magical ingredients incorrectly, you will change the magical property of the ingredients. Using incorrectly prepared ingredients could cause various effects to the potions. It can result in something trivial like lessening the efficacy of the potion, to the more harmful effect like turning what is supposed to be a healing potion into poison."

Professor Walker smiled at him brightly, causing the fourth year Slytherin to blush. "That was a perfect answer Mr. Malfoy, simple and to the point. Another ten points to Slytherin! Now, I will show you how to prepare your ingredients correctly. You may take notes if you wish, but pay attention because after this I will test you again."

The rest of the lessons went smoothly, and by the end of the class, Harry felt like he had learned more in two hours than the last three years with Snape. No offense to Snape, but that man was a terrible teacher. Professor Walker though, she was excellent. Her explanation was easy to understand, and she was patient. She even managed to get him and Neville get it right. She even rewarded him points when he did it right. If it were Snape, he would rather die than giving the Gryffs their well deserved points.

Harry left the class with a considerably brighter mood than he had ever been these last few days, especially when he remembered the words the new Professor said to him the day before.

"Come see me tomorrow, Mr. Potter, maybe I could help you with that spell you mentioned before."

He smiled. As Harry walked the stairs toward the Transfiguration classroom, he heard a very familiar voice arguing a few meters ahead of him.

"She's as bad as Snape!" Ron glowered. "No prejudice my ass! She's clearly favoring the Slyths, especially Malfoy!"

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed angrily in a loud voice, causing a few heads to turn to their direction. "How can you say that? She awarded Malfoy the points because he earned it! Besides she rewarded Gryffindor with points too, remember?"

Ron glared at her, and then at Harry who was walking a few feet behind them. "That's because he's Harry Potter! Of course she gave him points! Harry Potter gets everything, remember?" he retorted sarcastically, using the same tone Hermione used earlier.

Harry glowered back at the back of Ron's head the same time Hermione made a noise of frustration and then proceeded to hit Ron with her thick book in the head. Harry who had heard what Ron had said about Professor Walker and him couldn't help himself but hoped that Hermione will hit him harder; maybe she will also knock some sense into the taller boy's vacant head.

The redhead boy would never understand, he thought glumly. The other boy was the lucky one. Being the Boy-Who-Lived maybe gave him fame—more than what he could handle, but… that title could not bring back his parents. Fame could not raise the dead, fame could not give him the love he desired and deserved, fame could not even get you a loyal friend.

Well who cares about them anyway? Harry asked himself. Ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest he continued on his path to Transfiguration class.

Alone.

That's the end of chapter three. Do you find it satisfactory to your tastes? Tell me your opinion! I accept constructive criticism and any ideas or suggestions that you may have for the next chapter too. If you have any questions or you're not clear with some parts of this chapter, just ask, okay? I'll do my best to answer them!

And you know I never intended to put a male Allen here at all. I told you my fingers like to type something that's completely out of my control, and Allen is one of the results. Now I'm at loss of what to do with him. Do you think he should have a pairing? I also have this abnormally huge urge to write a separate story about the Earl and Neah. Do you think I should write it now or later after I'm finished with Dearly Beloved? It'll be a one shot though. Hum…

Note: So Eileen Walker = Prince (so Severus is still the Half-Blood Prince because Kanda is a muggle). Since Tobias Snape is not Severus' father, he didn't have the greasy hair, big hook shaped nose, shallow skin and all that. His black hair, black eyes, his body stature, and the shape of his face he got all from Kanda while the pale skin comes from Eileen. Since Kanda and Eileen are both pretty, I imagine he will be pretty too. I will explain later how is his name "Snape", not "Prince" or "Kanda" or "Walker".

Next chapter: "Heartbeat."

Adriane.