At this time of night, the castle was immersed in darkness and silence. The only sources of light were the antique chandeliers and Lumos from Harry Potter's wand. He still wouldn't leave him alone. The Saviour of the Wizarding World scampered through the dark after the Potions Master like a very inquisitive puppy, while the older wizard tried just about anything to get rid of him.

"Where are we going?"

"Why are you still here?"

When they walked to the Grand Staircase, Severus started praying to all forces mighty and evil to let him push Potter on some faulty step. Unfortunately, the years of roaming around Hogwarts must have left their mark, because the insufferable Gryffindor seemed to find his way around Hogwarts pretty well. Snape began to consider whether it was possible to roll his eyes even more.

"Potter, there really is no need for your assistance."

"Oh, but it's no problem."

"Potter!"

"Alohomora."

In that very moment, Severus bitterly regretted having no wand. Not even because he couldn't have otherwise gotten to the sixth floor. If he had one, at least he would have had something to stab Potter with. Snape looked at the Gryffindor coldly and pushed first into the corridor. Harry, of course, followed.

"If Professor Vector had fallen into the portal, can we pull her back out?"

"And how exactly would you know that she had, Potter?"

Severus tried to be calm, but he felt he had lost his touch. Perhaps it was due to those moments of doubt in his Potions expertise…

"Well, otherwise you'd have to give back your Potions diploma, now wouldn't you?"

Potter smiled wryly to himself, almost bumping into the armour that stood around the corner. Unfortunately, the annoying boy was right. Snape couldn't have made a mistake – not when it came to potions, and certainly not that exact potion.

"You can go now. Not a peep to Minerva, though."

"Are you joking? Now it's getting interesting." Harry pointed towards the heavy, fancifully draped curtain that hanged on the stone wall, and seemed to be nothing more but a decoration. "Just what exactly are we here?"

Severus looked like he was about to breathe fire, but stopped himself and looked at Potter a bit closely. For the first time since they saw each other again, Harry had shown other emotion than just cold contemplation. "Cold and collected" wasn't exactly how Snape would have described him back in the days.

"Do you miss him?" he asked, then immediately regretted doing so.

He despised such discussions to the very core. Just as expected, the Auror stared at him with his huge, green eyes, seeking approval and consolation. Snape winced and gritted his teeth, pushing the boy away.

"How–"

"Doesn't matter. Forget I asked."

Snape faced the wall and started to touch the stones, in hope to find the secret passage. If he remembered correctly, this is where Septima Vector's bedroom quarters used to be — since the woman was lazy and didn't want to traverse half the castle in order to get to the Arithmancy classroom.

"How did you know?" Potter remained in the same spot, only now he looked offended. Finally!

"You used Legilimency on me? You know it's illegal now, right?"

Snape sneered wickedly, then crouched and tried to find the door. Salazar, have mercy! He wouldn't use Legilimency on somebody who wears his heart on his sleeve; there was just no point in it. Not that he had made any inquiries about who had died during the Battle of Hogwarts, but Draco told him anyway. At first Severus thought that the Weasleys had not attacked him just yet because he was so proficient at hiding, and because Potter had dared to divorce the youngest Weaslette, but now… The truth was quite different. The ginger part of The Golden Trio had perished in the battle. Snape didn't really know how to comment, so he decided to change the subject:

"Oh really? I would just love to see the Aurors chase me down for that particular crime." He got up. "Legilimency does not leave traces, as I'm sure you remember, Potter," he added smugly.

"We don't need any investigations for that. We use veritaserum."

"Veritaserum! Really, Potter. I see that your government is still on the warpath?" His silky-smooth tone was soaked in heavy irony.

"What do you mean?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

"The Dark Lord had the nasty habit of using veritaserum, Potter." He turned towards Harry just for a second. "And Barty Crouch senior during the Death Eaters trial."

Harry folded his arms and gave him a superior look.

"And so did you, Snape."

For a moment Severus looked like he really wanted to say something, but then changed his mind. He decided that his years of educating absolute morons have passed, now was the time for more urgent problems. The damned woman has closed her cave shut and there was just no way he could get in, at least not without a wand.

"What if she had set the same security spells like the ones on Diagon Alley?"

Just when he thought it was over, Potter decided to wash him again in the splendour of his eloquence.

"What are you–"

But before Snape could brew a suitable amount of venom that he could pour into each and every word, his unwanted companion whisked out his wand and touched the bricks in the same sequence as he would the bricks in the wall behind the "Leaky Cauldron". Just when Severus was about to protest, the floor trembled slightly and the rope entwined around the curtain unwrapped spontaneously. The curtain dropped to the floor with a slight rustle. A door behind it creaked loudly.

"It's just like a 'one, two, three, four' PIN code. It's easy to remember."

"What?"

Harry was the first to go behind the curtain. Severus immediately followed, though with considerable distrust. During his teaching career at Hogwarts he had not developed many close friendships… all right – none, actually. But he managed to get to know some of the teachers sufficiently well, and Septima Vector was never particularly fond of him. The feeling was, obviously, mutual, so now Snape was expecting hidden traps at every step.


Every new beginning is difficult, however Snape's was simply awful. Not that he was complaining about Dumbledore, but Voldemort had at least given him realistic career opportunities, while the Headmaster… gave him an unlimited access to birdbrains. And not even the kind he could use in potions.

Once again in his life, Severus was trapped. At the very beginning he decided he would endure three years and then decide what to do next – perhaps some notable establishment of a more academic approach will consider his application? In the worst-case scenario, he was ready to settle for the National Magical Library, if that would save him from brewing the Pepper-Up Potion for the n-th time.

However, he had underestimated Dumbledore. After several years of sending out résumés to the gradually less and less prestigious places, Snape began to analyse all the rejections a little bit closely. He finally realised that nearly all of them had been written in a similar manner and that the problem didn't lie in his qualifications. In most cases, he was overqualified and still – nobody would dare to hire him. His reputation preceded him and not in a good way, too. The only way out of Hogwarts would be a hearty recommendation that he knew he would never get from Dumbledore. Salazar, the Headmaster wouldn't even give him a more decent job and had instead sentenced him to a bleak existence in the dungeons! Not only that. He had to spend his days among brats and the meagre paycheque could serve him as a toilet paper, at best.

"In or out?" a horse voice said behind him.

Ah, indeed. Working as a socially rehabilitated ex-Death Eater was already sufficiently humiliating and very Victorian indeed, but nothing proved more upsetting than working alongside hopeless twits like this one. Without turning around, Snape went into the Great Hall and marched towards the staff table like a one-person Gestapo. His black coat billowed behind him evilly as he walked. It was still a bit damp from the rain that caught him after he had sneaked out for his morning cigarette. Snape had to admit though, that he really liked the ominous effect and should probably get it licensed.

When he sat in his place at the very edge of the table, he asked himself the question that would eventually resurface time and again: what the hell was he doing with his life?

Snape hated to eat in public. He hated people in general and simply loathed watching them eat, too. The very idea of food in other people's mouths was disgusting. There was nothing worse than having to sit and politely engage in pointless conversations while trying not to vomit after every "school spirit and friendship" pep-talks from Dumbledore.

"Pass the salt."

Propped on his elbow, he obliged and pushed the said object towards the annoying witch. For the reasons unbeknownst to him, she would always ask him for salt during meals. Frankly, he was so used to it that he didn't mind anymore.

"I'm going to have a stroke," he said darkly.

Her slightly swollen eyes were no less tired than his, though for some reason the damnable woman had more energy in her than a three-month puppy.

"I would try to postpone it on Friday, if I were you."

She gave the salt back, though unnecessarily – his plate remained empty as always. He didn't even know why he let himself get caught up in a conversation with her, though on the other hand… Worse things could happen than morning banter with Septima Vector. At least that way the time passed faster.

Before he could stop himself, he started to analyse her. The swelling around the eyes could be allergies, since he never suspected her to read late into the night or, Merlin forbid, brew potions. Personally, he couldn't fathom why someone so young could have ever gotten the position as important as the Arithmancy professor. Damned child must have been somebody's daughter, cousin, goddaughter or Salazar knows what else. There was just no way. How old was she anyway? Never mind. She was just as incompetent as the lot of them.

"I shall oblige then," he growled and carefully poured himself more coffee.

"Good." She smiled ominously and he immediately remembered why exactly he had heard rumours of her alleged education at Durmstrang.

She finished her scrambled eggs and elegantly wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Though not for you. Next week you'll be supervising the trip to Hogsmeade," she said.

"What?" he hissed, frowning so hard that for a moment he caught a glimpse of fear on her face. She quickly returned to her usual grimace of contempt, though.

"Out of the two of us, I'm the only one that has an important date, I presume?"

She threw the napkin on her chair and walked out of the Great Hall in a manner that resembled a catwalk model.

There were days when Severus had an intimate understanding for Voldemort's reasons. He had to admit that in the very beginning, all this murderous plans against the humanity did not sound very appealing, but the longer he stayed on the leash of the second most powerful wizard in history, the more he missed his old ways.


"What exactly are we looking for?"

Potter looked around the messy room with a healthy dose of scepticism.

He ignited an old-fashioned oil lamp on the windowsill and hastily closed the window with a spell. A penetrating chill had spread throughout the room, though Snape seemed to have been more disgusted with the mess, than the cold. When Harry moved the lamp from the windowsill to the stained coffee table that stood in the middle of the room, the dim glow illuminated what could be considered "a perfectionist's hell". The draft had scattered various notes and pieces of parchment on the carped and the unmade bed. On one of the armchairs that stood in the corner was a pile of crumpled clothes. On the other one that stood by the desk, laid a giant stack of books. Most of the books, as Snape immediately noticed, were borrowed from the Restricted Section in the library. A bookcase wedged into a corner contained not only a lot more different volumes, but also maps, sheets of Very Important Papers, notes, notebooks, textbooks and old crossword puzzles. The chaos had no beginning, no end, nor any kind of meaning. The only person, who could possibly have moved around in it more or less freely, was undoubtedly the owner and its direct perpetrator.

"Snape?"

Severus gritted his teeth at the sound of his own name in Harry's mouth, but on the other hand decided that squabbling with him about the proper way of addressing him would be more than pointless right now. Instead, he dug out a box of matches from underneath another pile of papers, and lit another lamp. Using it to guide himself, he approached the disorganised bookcase in search of clues.

"That wench," he growled a moment later.

He pushed aside the books stacked on the top shelf and pulled out the one stuck on the very edge: "Orgelbracht's Complete Encyclopaedia of Classified Hexes and Other Sinister Spells".

"What is that?"

"For years I tried to borrow it from the library, and this damned witch has been holding onto the only copy!"

"Is this a special book or something?"

Severus turned to him sharply, bringing the lamp closing to his face so as to better accentuate the hatred in his eyes.

"As an Auror you should have an intimate knowledge its contents, Potter!"

Harry just shrugged and focused on the notes and scraps of papers littering the floor. He picked one up and began to study it closely.

"You know, when you put that lamp so close to your face, it makes you look like a ghoul. Unless that was your intention, then carry on."

Barely holding back the urge to murder the annoying kid with a chair, Severus pressed the book to his chest and stepped over a crumpled up robe. He tried to find the thing they actually came for. He pulled a piece of paper from Harry's hands and lifted it to the light.

"Hey!" yelped Harry.

As soon as Snape scanned the scribbles, his scowls and menacing comments stopped. He read it more closely. His dark eyebrows furrowed so hard that they almost met at the base of his nose. When he finished reading, he immediately put down the lamp and gently straightened out the paper.

"Where did you find this?" Snape asked in all seriousness.

Potter pointed towards the place. Severus bent down and grabbed the first piece of paper on the right. He quickly scanned through the first few sentences, then immediately picked up the third and fourth page. They were all covered in equations and complicated diagrams.

"What is that? And dear God, why are you smiling?"

Harry took a step back towards the desk when Snape firmly pushed the Gryffindor's leg aside, under which laid another piece of paper. Instead of a coherent response, Snape grew even more silent. For a moment, the Potions Master followed Septima's chaotic thinking, and finally, methodically and in a perfect sequence, he picked up all of the notes. He sat in the armchair in the corner — firstly having pushed down the pile of clothes to the floor.

"Professor?"

Harry called him that on purpose, but even that wasn't able to break Snape away from his scientific discovery. For a person who had always regarded other people's theories with absolute aversion, Snape seemed to be completely in tune with the mind map created by the person he had always considered to be an intellectual zero.

"Is there something about the portals?" asked Harry impatiently.

Snape finally raised his head, though only just to scold him with an irritated gaze. He returned to browsing through the notes, mumbling under his breath like a madman that Harry had always thought him to be — although, to be honest, Snape was now presenting even more symptoms of insanity than ever.

"This is idiotic." Potter picked up one of the open books scattered under the desk. He flipped a few pages, at which Snape yelled in panic:

"Leave it, Potter!"

He threw the papers onto the bed and lunged towards Harry, snatching the textbook out of his hands. He put the book on the carpet, flipping through the pages until he found the chapter he wanted. He laid the book beside the notes, and then changed their initial order and looked around presenting, what Harry thought, all indications of absolute psychosis.

"Where is Algenhoff! I've seen it somewhere…"

"What?"

The Auror slowly began to doubt his own senses, when suddenly the Potions Master's bony hand shot towards a small, purple book discarded on the carpet. "Advanced Quantum Theory of Magic and Applied Algebra" by E.J. Algenhoff was a modest-sized book, though it seemed to have fit perfectly into the incoherent reasoning of one Septima Vector, which one Severus Snape was now trying to recreate.

Snape ran his long finger on the spine of the book and opened it on the page tabbed with a torn-out piece of parchment.

"Where is it… Where did she find it?" Severus muttered to himself, and then he found the sentence, unevenly underlined with a pencil. "HA!"

He focused back on the notes and pulled out another paper with a muddled graph on it. He put it next to the ones previously laid on the floor.

"Potter!" He grabbed the Auror's ankle at the precise moment in which Potter wanted to discreetly withdraw from the general lunacy he wished to be no part of.

"Oh?" he gasped with resignation, wondering how exactly he should word for Professor McGonagall the fact that their last hope for solving the mystery of the portals was totally and completely bananas.

"I need a large parchment, two quills, red ink and a copy of 'Advanced Babylonian Astronomy'." Snape looked around the room. "Although…" He stood up and unceremoniously pushed Potter aside, heading back to the bookcase.

"Damnable woman…" Severus made a grimace that resembled a smile.

Snape returned to his previous position on the carpet, clutching a sizable book. He rolled up his sleeves and in the middle of it he looked impatiently at the still stunned Gryffindor. Harry was now considering Flooing St. Mungo's — not because he was especially concerned for Snape's wellbeing, it was just that he felt in need of an immediate psychiatric assistance himself.

"Today, Potter, if you please, I need them today!" growled Snape, pulling together the scribbles full of arithmetic pandemonium.

Harry almost ran into the hallway, and Severus delved into the depths of the portal theory — which, though rampant, with every new information was beginning to make more and more sense. Potter disappeared for over an hour, which Snape took with a relief. At last he was able to hear himself think again.

When the Auror finally came back, he wasn't alone. At first Severus didn't notice, because he had just passed through a maze of twisted mathematical mess, slayed the quantum Minotaur and returned more than victorious.

"Severus…" Professor McGonagall looked slightly startled.

She observed the confusing disarray on the carpet, which the Potions Master was now an integral part of.

"Give me that!" Severus took a moment from the books and snatched a large roll of parchment from Harry.

"Hi, Sev. I heard that you finally went bonkers."

"We shall see." With a terrifying smirk, Severus took from Draco the two bottles of ink he had asked for and the two quills.

Why Potter had brought his godson along, he couldn't fathom. Probably as a mascot of sorts, Salazar only knew.

Severus arranged the lamps on the windowsill, and then carefully set up his new artistic workshop on the desk, from which he had thrown off all the unnecessary papers with one swift movement.

"Severus…"

Professor McGonagall was now watching the raging Potions Master with no less dubious expression than before.

He wasn't listening at all. He looked over his shoulder at the notes on the carpet, then dipped one quill in red ink and drew a perfectly straight line on the parchment. Then, in black, he added complicated calculations and symbols, which he then merged with another graph, all the while turning and checking with the original writings of the equally insane Arithmancy professor.

When the initial confusion began to make sense, Professor McGonagall was the first to dare to come closer.

"Dear Merlin…" she whispered in disbelief, to which Severus responded with a sneer.

He wrote everything down and when the last symbol and the last flawless line were finished, he took a step back, admiring his work from a distance.

"What is this?" Draco approached sceptically, wanting to see for himself the tangible proof of the Potions Master's craziness.

"You figured out how they form? The portals?" Harry asked.

"Nobody is able to predict the emergence of a portal, Potter," Severus scolded him angrily.

Professor McGonagall carefully moved her wand over the parchment, gently detaching the complicated writings from its surface and hanging them up in the air, in the middle of the room. They lit up with a dim light. Snape looked at them with some pride and touched the projection, which buzzed almost angrily.

"Nobody is able to predict their formation, at least not with a high percentage of probability," he repeated slowly. "But… by applying an exactly opposite equation, they can be successfully closed."