Welcome Home, Professor Snape
"We can't let Sirius see the portrait before we cast protective spells," said Harry as they walked toward the gates.
"We'll do everything but the Fidelius," she declared. "We'll put him in the drawing room, above the low bookshelf. He's amazing, isn't he? The portraits are so real, but I'm glad they're not really… I mean, to have your soul hanging on the wall of an office, forever…"
"It confuses me," said Harry. "They're like they were when they were alive. I forget it's not really them."
"I'd like to think the real Dumbledore and Snape are in some amazing afterlife and really happy," she said. "Fred too."
"They are," said Harry firmly, remembering his time-out-of-time at King's Cross. "The portraits don't know what comes after, so they aren't souls. You're right, it would be horrible if it was really them."
"Um, won't it be weird to have our old teacher hanging on our wall, alive?" she asked.
"He's more to me than our old teacher, Gin," said Harry. "I feel like he was always there, a presence in my whole life and I just never knew it." He put a hand inside his robes, reassuring himself that the portrait was safe. He felt lucky. By rights Professor Snape should hate him, but instead, he was willing to help him deal with Sirius. They passed out of the gates and he smirked guiltily as they Apparated home.
Harry enlarged the empty portrait and affixed it to the wall, making sure it could be seen from every corner of the room, and the hall leading from the front door. Even without the magical occupant, they agreed it was a handsome piece of art. Ginny went to help Kreacher make lunch. They decided to act like it was a normal Saturday, knowing at some point their persistent guest would be back. They'd do the protective spells right after lunch. In the meantime, Harry studied the remarkable painting.
Professor Snape was absent from the portrait, but the background was elegantly depicted. The Headmaster's office, with desk and chair, shelves full of books, and facing him, a large, throne-like chair with green velvet cushions. Phineas Nigellus's portrait at Grimmauld Place was a poor thing compared with it.
"Master Harry!" called Kreacher, poking his head into the room. "Young Mistress is waiting."
"Kreacher, we'll have a magical guest joining us here," Harry said, beckoning him inside. "This is Headmaster Snape's portrait. He won't be here all the time, but I hope you'll behave when he's with us."
"Kreacher prefers this kind of guest," muttered the elf. "Not the screaming dog. Now it is time for lunch.
The moment the room was empty, the portrait's occupant strode into view. He sat down in the throne-chair and studied Potter's home. His black eyes took in every detail admiring the view from the front window. The other Heads had declared him mad for contemplating this, but he had discovered that even in portrait form he was an outsider. They were, for the most part, a tedious lot, centuries disconnected from the living world. This second portrait was an escape for him and, after giving his life over to the will of others, he chose to do this…
A rattling came from the front door, and the door opened with a slam.
"Ja-Harry!" called a revoltingly familiar voice.
Sirius Black flung himself into the drawing room and his eyes were drawn immediately to the large, rich portrait on the wall.
"BLOODY HELL! HARRY! WHERE IN BLAZES DID THIS HIDEOUS, UGLY PAINTING COME FROM? I SWEAR HIS EYES ARE STARING LIKE HE'S ALIVE!"
Snape looked into the gray eyes of the hysterical Animagus, realizing he must have drunk his lunch. He remained motionless in his chair, watching the frenzy his mere presence was fomenting.
Harry and Ginny came into the room and Sirius grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him to stand before the portrait.
"Hello, Professor Snape," said Harry, biting his lip.
"Potter," said Snape, nodding slightly. "Mrs. Potter, and Black."
"AAAAAAAHHHH! IT'S ALIVE! MERLIN'S DECAYING BAGPIPES!" shrieked Sirius, his eyes bulging.
Snape glanced at Ginny's smirk and then back at Potter, who seemed to be torn between guilt and laughter.
"Calm down, Sirius," said Ginny, her voice admirably calm. "It's a great honor to have Professor Snape's portrait in our home, and there's no need for you to be so rude."
The portrait Snape choked, impressed by her control. The resemblance to her clever and obnoxious twin brothers had never been stronger, he thought.
"Harry, if you wanted to hurt me, why didn't you bring my mum's bloody portrait along with you too?" asked Sirius bitterly. "Why this? And how can you stand to look at that ugly git?"
Harry found his voice, overcoming the rush of conflicting emotions in him. The last time he had been in the company of these two, he'd thought Professor Snape was his enemy. Now he knew better.
"It's not about you," said Harry firmly, glancing into the black eyes of the portrait. "Professor Snape's portrait is here because I want him here. I expect you to behave respectfully."
"What about HIM?" shrieked Sirius, pointing and staring hatefully at his former victim. "I will not be insulted by bloody Snivellus Snape!"
"He hasn't insulted you," Harry pointed out. "He hasn't said a word to you, has he?"
"MY NAME! HE SAID MY NAME!" Sirius screamed, rapidly becoming quite deranged.
"Well, that's more than you've been capable of," Ginny snapped. "You've insulted him repeatedly, and without provocation. Professor Snape saved Harry's life, not to mention my friends' lives and mine too. I don't want to hear a word against him from anyone."
Staring in turn at each of them, he finally turned back to Snape's portrait, where the portrait wizard's expression gave nothing away.
"You can't do this to me!" Sirius snarled. "You have to choose Harry. Get rid of old Snivellus or I'm out of here! Gone forever!"
Harry actually felt sorry for Sirius, seeing his deep unhappiness, but he was no child, to be given an ultimatum by a bully.
"I'm sorry, Sirius, but Professor Snape's portrait is here for as long as he wants it to be," he said firmly. "You're welcome here too, if you can behave yourself."
Sirius looked from Harry to Ginny, unable to believe this was happening. Finally he looked again at the portrait, where Snape sat motionless, only his eyes betraying his awareness of the situation.
"I loathe you!" he growled, and dodging around Harry, he ran forward and spat furiously on the portrait before running out the door.
Ginny immediately used her wand to clean the canvas. Looking at her horrified husband and the remarkably calm Snape, she asked cheerfully, "Who wants to lay odds on how soon he'll come back?"
Ginny went to bed early that evening. She had never been one to obsess about her health, but her pregnancy was a fine excuse to allow Harry to spend time with the portrait. He tried to hide his feelings, but she saw how much he enjoyed Professor Snape's presence.
Harry decided to stay in the dimly lit drawing room, fairly sure that Sirius would return. Professor Snape had gone back to his Hogwarts portrait after Sirius had left, but Harry would protect his portrait. He had cast every protective spell he knew, and planned to ask Professor Snape if there were others. He had not known how the two would react to each other, but Sirius had gone on the attack, while Professor Snape refused to be baited. Somehow this didn't surprise him, but he was surprised by his lack of surprise.
"Wandering in the night again, Potter?" murmured Professor Snape. "Will you ever outgrow that obnoxious habit?"
Grateful for the darkness, Harry grinned. "He'll be back tonight, Sir. I'd rather be here to minimize the damage."
"He is drearily predictable."
Harry inhaled and said slowly, "I didn't understand him at all, before, when I was a kid."
"You were not terribly insightful," agreed the portrait wizard. "You compounded that with an appalling boldness and your misguided belief that nothing could harm you, no matter what stupid risks you took."
"Hermione said I had a 'saving people thing.' But I'm sorry I didn't learn Occlumency, Professor. I was a real jerk, and I could have done better."
"Humility? From the Chosen One?"
"Did you really think I liked all that rubbish people said about me?" asked Harry irritably.
There was quite a long pause.
"Perhaps your resemblance to your appalling father led me to believe you resembled him in that way," said Professor Snape, shrugging slightly. "For a time, at least. He would have taken full advantage of that title. But there's no point in offering my opinion of him to you. It cannot be pleasant."
"I don't remember them at all," Harry confessed. "That day, when I saw what he was like… I couldn't believe it…"
"You're not the first person to be disappointed in your father. I, however, am the last person you should ask about his character."
Recollecting what he knew of their relationship, Harry couldn't believe Snape was so restrained. But a sudden sound from outside brought him to stand next to the portrait.
"Relax, Potter, your protective spellwork was quite adequate. Stand across the room. I wish to see what he intends to do," Snape murmured softly.
The front door opened and closed quietly, unlike Sirius's general noisy entrance. The Animagus lurched into the room, reeking of firewhisky and staggering slightly. He headed straight for the portrait, not bothering to look around the room, and raised his hand as though to strike.
"Say goodbye, Snivellus," he growled softly.
"Impedimenta!" Harry snapped, and lit the lamp.
Sirius was frozen, a gleaming knife mere inches from the canvas. Harry knew that with the protective spells on it, the portrait would not have been damaged. But he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He removed the knife from the upraised hand and looked into Sirius's eyes sadly.
"Why?" he asked. "You don't need to do this."
He removed the spell and Sirius stumbled forward, falling against the bookshelf under the painting. Books cascaded onto his feet. He looked up into the gleaming eyes of Professor Snape, rage transforming his face.
"Ugly, greasy, revolting little oddball!" he snarled. "You can't even stay decently dead!"
"I assure you I am quite dead," said Snape. "I fail to understand why a mere magical portrait of me sends you into such a frenzy."
"You're stealing James's son and that's disgusting! You can't do it! He's my godson!"
Sirius staggered to his feet and swung around to face Harry.
"Harry, how can you stand to look at him? He followed us, he stalked James and hexed him every chance he got! He tried to give me to the Dementors!"
"Sirius, calm down. There's no reason for you to go on like this," said Harry. "You've had too much to drink. Why don't you get some sleep and we can talk in the morning?"
Sirius fixed his bleary gaze on Harry's face and his expression softened. But he glanced at the portrait, and the sight of Snape, immaculate in his black robes, seated in the Headmaster's office, was too much. He spun around and ran to the front door, slamming out of the house.
Harry followed, but all he saw was the black dog running away down the road, howling miserably. Slowly, he returned to the drawing room and looked helplessly up at Professor Snape.
"Potter, he must make his own choices."
Harry bent down and began replacing the books on the shelf. When he finished, he stood up, gazing sadly at Professor Snape.
"You're right," he said. "You've been right more often than I understood, Sir. I still have that cursed saving-people thing. And having him around, I'm probably going to learn things about all of them, even my mum, that I'm not going to like."
Their eyes met for an intense moment, but then Harry's mouth began to twitch.
"It's different anyway," he said lightly. "Maybe not better, but I'm glad you're here, Professor Snape. I'm going to get some sleep now. Ginny says he'll keep having these tantrums, but she thinks nothing will keep him from coming 'round."
"She must be the most intelligent of the Weasleys," mused Snape. "She's right about Black. I disliked thinking of him during my life, but he seemed not to want a life of his own, even then. He seems stubbornly fixated on your father."
Harry sighed. It was too much to understand and deal with all at once. He pointed his wand at the lamp and put it out. The two wizards, one living and one portrait, stared at each other in the dim light.
"What do you do, as a portrait?" he asked curiously.
"Loiter in the Headmistress's office and play endless hands of poker," Snape said rather acerbically. "I believe it grows less tedious as the centuries pass and the memory of one's own existence fades."
"So you must be arrested at the point you died. But whatever you are here, your soul went on," said Harry.
Snape sneered faintly and mused, "I wonder… Heaven or hell?"
Harry burst out laughing. "Fishing for compliments, Sir? I hope heaven is really that stupid place with angels in white, plucking on harps and grinning like Professor Lockhart. You'd look ridiculous!"
The portrait wizard tried to scowl, but his mouth twitched and he said, " Well, since you're the sainted, bloody Chosen One, you'll undoubtedly end there, looking just as moronic as I. Go away now, Potter. I plan to win Dumbledore's hat back before morning. After dancing to his tune for so long, I enjoy besting him at last."
"Good night, Professor Snape."
