Hang on to yourself
(Warning for bad language)
Harry placed the CD into the player and pressed the play button. The device had been charmed so that it didn't require any muggle form of power such as electricity. He selected track 6 which was titled 'Quicksand' just as he had been instructed. He sat down in in a big, squashy armchair and felt his shoulders sag as he relaxed, listening to David Bowie's mesmerising baritone voice. Harry couldn't quite make out all the lyrics so he conjured a piece of parchment, pressed repeat and watched with a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction as words to the song appeared as soon as they had been sang.
I'm torn between the light and dark
Where others see their targets
Divine symmetry
Should I kiss the viper's fang
Or herald loud
the death of Man
I'm sinking in the quicksand
of my thought
And I ain't got the power anymore
[CHORUS]
Don't believe in yourself
Don't deceive with belief
Knowledge comes
with death's release
He sat staring at the words on the parchment
Should I kiss the viper's fang. The exact details of his former professor's method of execution had never been released. Had McGonagal told Alexander? Knowledge comes with death's release. A crazy idea was forming in his mind. Knowledge was given to him with death's release – the memories, Snape gave him before he died. What was it Luna had said?
"He isn't one of the castle ghosts, he's just hiding. I guess you'll see him when he's ready."
Harry's eyebrows shot up as far as they could go. Alexander Saven had been wearing a glamour. He cast his mind back to the night, he had met the man in the graveyard. He had discovered he had the invisibility cloak, even though he couldn't remember taking it with him.
His mind was racing – it couldn't be! Snape?
Harry slipped into the empty chamber in the Ministry of Magic and cast a locking charm on the door. He walked over to the recess where the pensieve sat on a marble plinth and with trembling hands reached into his pocket and took out the packet he had received the day before. He removed the small glass flask containing the magical substance and poured it into the basin.
He took a deep breath and plunged his head into the etheric liquid. As his head hit the surface he felt himself falling into the memory. He landed on damp grass but his feet made no sound. He saw his 17 year old self from almost a year ago, in a grey hooded top, standing by the graveside of his parents and Professor Snape, at midnight, in Godric's Hollow.
He watched wide eyed with fascination, as the dead former Hogwarts headmaster threw off Harry's invisibility cloak and handed it to him. "Well that was a touching eulogy Mr Potter."
"Thank you Sir," The other Harry said. "I'm glad you approved."
Snape snorted. "It's not every day, one gets to attend one's own funeral."
It was Harry's turn to snort. "It's not every day one gets to meet their dead potions teacher either." He added as an afterthought, "Sir."
Severus's eyes darted around. "Touché, Mr Potter!"
"Is your magical core fully healed now then?"
Snape nodded. "It is, thank you for the loan of your cloak – as loath as I was to touch something that once belonged to your father, it was…useful."
Harry ignored the jibe. "Have you been here much? To visit my mum, I mean?"
Severus shook his head. "Not really, it was…difficult!"
Harry nodded in understanding. "I saw them, you know – when I went to meet Voldemort." His gaze drifted back to the grave when the other man didn't answer. They stood side by side, gazing intently at the white marble stone as though they expected the ghosts of Lily and James to rise up before them. For a few minutes, neither of them uttered a word until Harry broke the silence. "What will you do now Sir?"
Severus' dark eyes broke contact with the gravestone and he glanced at the younger man. "'I have always fancied travelling. I believe that Italy is nice this time of year."
"Italy? Not Romania then?" Harry said with a smirk, turning to look up at his former professor.
The older man tutted and rolled his eyes in response. "Cheeky brat! I assure you Mr Potter that the rumours of my being one of the undead are quite exaggerated. Present circumstances excepted, of course. " His voice, however, didn't hold any of his usual antagonism.
"Of course," Harry murmured. "Although, I do think you would make a good vampire."
Snape folded his arms across his chest and did his best to look menacing. "Do you now!" He cast an eye over his dark clothing. "I don't suppose it matters anymore."
Harry sighed. "It's a shame that you have to go into hiding since your recovery, but all the world thinks you are dead. I will do my best to clear your name though – and make sure that everyone knows the truth."
"I really don't care one way or the other," Snape informed him. "Severus Snape died on the day of the battle and it's probably better for all concerned if he stays that way."
"OK," Harry stared at the black granite gravestone. "Will I ever see you again?"
"I don't think so," his former teacher replied. "After all it would be quite a shock if your dead potions professor suddenly turned up one day."
"Yes but, I know the…" Harry's voice trailed off as he stared at the wand, Snape now held up. "Oh come on, you don't have to do this."
"Yes I do," the older man told him softly.
"But, I don't want to remember you the way I saw you after Nagini's attack." Harry pleaded.
"Please Mr Potter, he sighed. "Harry," It was the first time that Snape had ever called him by his first name. "Don't make this any more difficult than it already is."
"What are you going to obliviate Hagrid and MrGonagal too?" Harry was shouting now.
"I have already dealt with the gamekeeper. Minerva is the only one who shall remain aware of the truth."
"But I feel like I only just got to know the real you – and you saved my life so many times. I want to get to know you." His voice trailed off and he stifled a sob. "You are the last link to my mother. No-one ever talks about her."
Severus grasped his temples in frustration. "Really Mr Potter! What did you think? That we could be friends? That we could sit drinking firewhiskey together and discuss your mother? I can-not do this!" he hissed. "Apart from the fact that I would be a target for the death eaters for my betrayal. I believed I was dying when I gave you those memories and I did not expect that damned phoenix to turn up. I must do this I have no choice. Nor do I wish to remain in this life!"
Harry turned away. He couldn't look at the man anymore. "Because I remind you of everything you lost." He felt deflated. "Because if you had stayed together with my mum, then I might not have been born. You hate me because, you wished I never existed."
"Oh Merlin's bloody great…once again, your extraordinary powers of deduction amaze me Mr Potter. No not because I wish you had never existed but because, Harry, every time I see you, I am reminded that if your mother and I had got together you could have been …"
"What?" Harry' head snapped back towards his ex-teacher.
"Look at your parent's gravestone, Harry. In the bottom right hand corner," he said softly.
The present day Harry watched in awe as his one year younger self crouched down in front of Lily and James Potter's grave. "I don't see anything. What am I looking f…"
"Obliviate!" The word was spoken at barely above a whisper.
The older man then waved his wand in a series of complicated patterns and his appearance changed. The hair changed to sandy brown, the dramatic black cloak changed into a muggle trench coat and the facial features altered; the cheekbones becoming higher, eyes slightly larger and a lighter colour. Harry watched as his 17 year old self rose from his crouching position, his fingers tracing the outline of the etched writing.
The man that Harry knew as Alexander Saven, took one last look at the grieving 17 year old and turned to leave – until he heard a sob behind him and spun round in one fluid motion.
There was nothing more to be seen. The memory ended and Harry found himself once more standing in the underground chamber, wide eyed with shock.
He sat down on the nearest chair, his nostrils flared as white hot anger coursed through his veins. I thought you were dead, you bastard, I grieved for you and you are living a happy contented life down South with your new girlfriend. Then as quickly as his anger rose, it dissipated, waring with logic and reason. Alexander had given Snape the happiness that he had never found in his old life. He had a right to that happiness. Snape/Alexander could have just left and Harry would have never known. He hadn't though, he had stayed behind to offer comfort to the grieving 17 year old Harry. He blinked, his mind reeling at the memory. Had Snape really been about to say that Harry could have been his son had things turned out differently? Once upon a time, the very idea would have made him want to heave but now, he had much greater respect for the man who had worked so hard to ensure his safety and aided him in bringing about the end of Voldemort. Snape had hated him on sight from the moment he had first set foot in the Great Hall because he reminded him of James Potter. Alexander had attended the memorial a few days ago. Had he gone there with the express purpose of seeing Harry?
He slowly regained his equilibrium and with a sigh, padded over to the pensieve where he carefully extracted the memory and placed it back into the tiny bottle. He would keep the man's secret. It was the least he could do. He hated having to keep things from his friends but it wasn't a complete lie – the man who had been Severus Snape was dead to all extents and purposes. He could live the rest of his life in the muggle world, as Alexander Saven, with his girlfriend and her daughter – oh and not forgetting Harry the cat. However tempting it would be to look the man up and pay him a visit, he hadn't left a forwarding address so it was obvious he did not intend Harry to do this. He wondered if it had been difficult for Alexander to return to the wizarding world that one day – reminded of everything he used to be. No wonder he had left Harry's side when the auror had realised he was wearing a glamour. Professor McGonagal was obviously the secret keeper. Harry felt a little disappointed that Severus hadn't chosen him for that role, but then given the history between the two of them, it was hardly surprising.
That evening, back at home as Harry played the rest of the CD, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. He was happy for Severus/Alexander. In a way, Severus Snape had died in battle of Hogwarts. A thought occurred to him – Saven. He picked up his wand and wrote the word in the air – SAVEN. He cast a charm and the letters rearranged themselves to form another, more familiar name; EVANS – of course, his mother's maiden name!
Clever, he mused and he closed his eyes and sat back in the armchair to relax, whilst listening to the velvet tones of his former teacher's favourite artist.
He picked up the jewel cover of the CD and marvelled at the name – which seemed fitting somehow:
'Hunky Dory'
18 years later…
Between platforms 9 and 10 of Kings Cross Station in London, an exited family stood in front of the barrier and making sure that no muggles were watching, they walked straight forward, passing through the charmed gateway that only allowed wizards and witches access to platform 9 and 3 quarters. Not that any muggle in their right mind would attempt to pass through a seemingly solid brick wall. They joined the gaggle of exited schoolchildren, all waving goodbye to their anxious families. Harry spotted the Malfoys who were saying goodbye to their son; Scorpius. Draco nodded at Harry in acknowledgement. The Hogwarts Express was waiting, its gleaming red and black livery, was a stark contrast against the grey stone of Kings Cross station.
James Sirius Potter kissed his parents goodbye and jumped enthusiastically onto the train to join his peers. It was his 2nd year at Hogwarts and the confident 12 year old had already established his place at the school and made many friends.
Harry's youngest hesitated. "But dad, what if I'm in Slytherin?"
Harry crouched down till he was eye level with the boy. "Albus Severus Potter," he began in earnest, "You were named after two Hogwarts headmasters and one of these was the bravest man I ever met."
"But what if I am...?"
"Then Slytherin House will have an excellent young wizard. But if it really bothers you, the sorting hat will take your choice into consideration."
"You could be put in Ravenclaw like Auntie Luna or Uncle Alex," the youngest child; Lily Luna, who was still holding Ginny's hand, piped up."
Harry gazed with affection at his daughter. "Well, yes you could," Harry agreed. He knew of course, that 'Uncle Alex', had really been in Slytherin, but he kept that secret. Only two other people, apart from Professor McGonagal knew the truth and that was Harry and Ginny – his soul mate. He wondered whether Alex and Sarah's youngest daughter Amelia, would be attending Hogwarts – she was now ten years old. Elizabeth, had been a little envious when her two year old sister had shown magical tendencies but Alexander had explained that with the ability to do magic, came great responsibility and that it didn't mean that Amy was better than Lizzie – or that he loved her any less. Lizzie was now twenty four and in her final year at university. She couldn't be prouder of her special magical family, even though she knew the importance of keeping this secret from other muggles. She did not, however like the name 'muggle'.
Albus seemed placated by this and jumped on the train with the swarm of other children. Harry and Ginny waved to him through the window.
"He'll be alright."
The guard blew his whistle and the train began to chug out of the platform. Harry took once last look at the eager faces pressed against the window as they began to disappear from view.
His scar hadn't bothered him for years, everything was hunky dory.
Finite
