Epilogue
"I should say a feast is quite appropriate." Professor Snape agreed, in response to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall's suggestion that something should be done to mark the year's anniversary of Voldemort's final defeat.
"A feast it is, then. Albus would have approved." McGonagall mused, a wistful smile on her face.
"Don't even think it." Snape growled. "Leave Albus alone. He has earned his retirement."
"Do you think we'll ever hear from him again?"
Snape shrugged. "Possibly. Who knows?" But Snape knew, in his heart, that none of them would see Dumbledore again. The greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever known, the world's finest wizard, had vanished completely, slipping away quietly as he had wanted, without fuss or bother. No one knew precisely what had happened to him, but Snape suspected. What he suspected, however, he had no intention of telling anyone, not even McGonagall. While Albus was thought to be alive, he was an icon, a beacon to wizards and witches of all ages everywhere. A mystery and an inspiration. Long may that continue, Snape thought.
"I'll make the arrangements, then, shall I?" Changing the subject.
"If you would, Severus. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the new Minister of Magic..."
"Indeed. Give Weasley my regards."
"Certainly." Minerva departed the staff room with a swish of robes, and Snape headed to his own office; or rather one of them, since he was entitled in his position as deputy headmaster to a large, comfortable, airy tower room. Not that he wasn't fond of that office, with its enormous walnut desk and oak panelled walls, on one of which hung a large smiling portrait of Snape himself, rather valuable since it was a personally presented gift from one of the wizarding world's finest artists, Dean Thomas. As charming as the room was, however, Snape spent most of his time in the cold, dank, slimy dungeon chamber he had called home for many years, the traditional location, after all, for the office of the head of Slytherin House. It said nowhere in the rule book that deputy headmasters had to be impartial. Besides, his laboratory was down here, as was the potions classroom; when it had come to it, Snape had found it impossible to give up teaching potions. However, Dumbledore's last act as headmaster had been to offer Snape the Defence Against the Dark Arts position which he had so long coveted. The solution, given the difficulty of finding anyone to accept either the DADA position, rumoured to be cursed, or the potions position, for fear of being poisoned by Snape, was for Snape to teach advanced classes in both, which kept him immensely busy, a useful thing in itself. Busy minds do not dwell on the past. The junior DADA and potions classes were taught by a very capable new teacher and researcher - Hermione Granger. Though Snape was far from the sort of colleague one invited round for tea - especially when one was married to Ron Weasley - Hermione respected Snape and he returned that respect. They made a rather effective academic partnership and had already published several papers together. Snape had insisted, though most of the work had been his, that Hermione's name appeared first on the articles, as senior author.
Yes, Snape was overworked, which gave him an excuse for irascibility, pleasing him greatly. Another good excuse for bursts of bad temper was the tendency of the pupils to spread malicious tattle to the effect that the headmistress and deputy headmaster were 'carrying on'. Snape and McGonagall responded to any such accusations with a flurry of detentions and house points taken; none of the miscreants, however, were sharp enough to notice that neither of the professors ever actually denied the rumours, which had begun with an innocent remark made in the kitchens by Snape's personal house-elf, Winky.
Also allowing Snape to easily maintain his reputation as a miserable old git were the perpetual visits of one Harry Potter and the continuing presence of one Sirius Black. Potter turned up regularly at Quidditch matches, giving the young players a thrill to see one of the celebrities of the sporting world. Sometimes the infuriating show-off even played himself. Sometimes Potter refereed, sometimes he commentated, sometimes he just sat in the stands, but whichever form of interference he chose, he was always rooting for Gryffindor, the biased devil. Black, too, tended to turn up wearing Gryffindor colours and smirking. He had an excuse, however, being Transfiguration professor, and the head of Gryffindor House. Potter's idea, naturally. Potter still had everyone at Hogwarts twisted round his finger, except Snape, of course. Not that Black didn't know his stuff, but really, teachers turning into animals everywhere struck Snape as rather undignified, especially when they had a tendency to chase Mrs. Norris through the castle corridors.
With one thing and another, Snape had every excuse for being bad tempered, and pupils from the first year to the last had every reason to hold him in great respect. Young Slytherins admired and emulated him; the others houses either hated him or were terrified of him or both; some things never change. Or did they? Snape had overheard one young Gryffindor talking to an exchange student from Beauxbatons:
"Scary, isn't he? He knows more about the Dark Arts than any other wizard in England."
"And he poisons one of us every term just to make sure we're paying attention to the lessons on antidotes." A Hufflepuff chimed in. Their voices were tinged with something like pride. Snape was still a git, but he was *their* git, unquestionably, unwaveringly on their side, as fearsome a guardian as anyone could desire. No matter whether the pupils admired, hated, or feared him, there was not a single one of them, of any house, who did not respect him and feel safer for his sinister presence at Hogwarts.
The war had done that for him. Death for many, defeat for some, victory for others - and redemption for Severus Snape, in the eyes of his colleagues and his students. In one single day the past had ceased to matter, and the future, for the first time in years, became important. Snape was determined to live his life as fully as he possibly could, refusing to allow the sacrifice of the many who had died for the sake of freedom to be in vain. It was a philosophy he shared with Harry Potter and Sirius Black, though none of them expressed it aloud. It was redemption. It was freedom. It was salvation.
It was penance.
A/N I'd like to thank every one of you for reviewing and encouraging me! This has been a depressing piece to write, especially under circumstances I won't go into (but they explain, perhaps, the lighter note of the ending).
Also, I promised ages ago a Severus/Minerva angst piece. This obviously isn't it, but I'm thinking about making that piece a continuation of this timeline/universe. I'd welcome thoughts and advice on that - do you like this view of the future, and would anyone like to see more of it from a Snape/McG angle?
Thanks once again to all you lovely readers, especially Helena who encourages me constantly both online and in person :-)
"I should say a feast is quite appropriate." Professor Snape agreed, in response to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall's suggestion that something should be done to mark the year's anniversary of Voldemort's final defeat.
"A feast it is, then. Albus would have approved." McGonagall mused, a wistful smile on her face.
"Don't even think it." Snape growled. "Leave Albus alone. He has earned his retirement."
"Do you think we'll ever hear from him again?"
Snape shrugged. "Possibly. Who knows?" But Snape knew, in his heart, that none of them would see Dumbledore again. The greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever known, the world's finest wizard, had vanished completely, slipping away quietly as he had wanted, without fuss or bother. No one knew precisely what had happened to him, but Snape suspected. What he suspected, however, he had no intention of telling anyone, not even McGonagall. While Albus was thought to be alive, he was an icon, a beacon to wizards and witches of all ages everywhere. A mystery and an inspiration. Long may that continue, Snape thought.
"I'll make the arrangements, then, shall I?" Changing the subject.
"If you would, Severus. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the new Minister of Magic..."
"Indeed. Give Weasley my regards."
"Certainly." Minerva departed the staff room with a swish of robes, and Snape headed to his own office; or rather one of them, since he was entitled in his position as deputy headmaster to a large, comfortable, airy tower room. Not that he wasn't fond of that office, with its enormous walnut desk and oak panelled walls, on one of which hung a large smiling portrait of Snape himself, rather valuable since it was a personally presented gift from one of the wizarding world's finest artists, Dean Thomas. As charming as the room was, however, Snape spent most of his time in the cold, dank, slimy dungeon chamber he had called home for many years, the traditional location, after all, for the office of the head of Slytherin House. It said nowhere in the rule book that deputy headmasters had to be impartial. Besides, his laboratory was down here, as was the potions classroom; when it had come to it, Snape had found it impossible to give up teaching potions. However, Dumbledore's last act as headmaster had been to offer Snape the Defence Against the Dark Arts position which he had so long coveted. The solution, given the difficulty of finding anyone to accept either the DADA position, rumoured to be cursed, or the potions position, for fear of being poisoned by Snape, was for Snape to teach advanced classes in both, which kept him immensely busy, a useful thing in itself. Busy minds do not dwell on the past. The junior DADA and potions classes were taught by a very capable new teacher and researcher - Hermione Granger. Though Snape was far from the sort of colleague one invited round for tea - especially when one was married to Ron Weasley - Hermione respected Snape and he returned that respect. They made a rather effective academic partnership and had already published several papers together. Snape had insisted, though most of the work had been his, that Hermione's name appeared first on the articles, as senior author.
Yes, Snape was overworked, which gave him an excuse for irascibility, pleasing him greatly. Another good excuse for bursts of bad temper was the tendency of the pupils to spread malicious tattle to the effect that the headmistress and deputy headmaster were 'carrying on'. Snape and McGonagall responded to any such accusations with a flurry of detentions and house points taken; none of the miscreants, however, were sharp enough to notice that neither of the professors ever actually denied the rumours, which had begun with an innocent remark made in the kitchens by Snape's personal house-elf, Winky.
Also allowing Snape to easily maintain his reputation as a miserable old git were the perpetual visits of one Harry Potter and the continuing presence of one Sirius Black. Potter turned up regularly at Quidditch matches, giving the young players a thrill to see one of the celebrities of the sporting world. Sometimes the infuriating show-off even played himself. Sometimes Potter refereed, sometimes he commentated, sometimes he just sat in the stands, but whichever form of interference he chose, he was always rooting for Gryffindor, the biased devil. Black, too, tended to turn up wearing Gryffindor colours and smirking. He had an excuse, however, being Transfiguration professor, and the head of Gryffindor House. Potter's idea, naturally. Potter still had everyone at Hogwarts twisted round his finger, except Snape, of course. Not that Black didn't know his stuff, but really, teachers turning into animals everywhere struck Snape as rather undignified, especially when they had a tendency to chase Mrs. Norris through the castle corridors.
With one thing and another, Snape had every excuse for being bad tempered, and pupils from the first year to the last had every reason to hold him in great respect. Young Slytherins admired and emulated him; the others houses either hated him or were terrified of him or both; some things never change. Or did they? Snape had overheard one young Gryffindor talking to an exchange student from Beauxbatons:
"Scary, isn't he? He knows more about the Dark Arts than any other wizard in England."
"And he poisons one of us every term just to make sure we're paying attention to the lessons on antidotes." A Hufflepuff chimed in. Their voices were tinged with something like pride. Snape was still a git, but he was *their* git, unquestionably, unwaveringly on their side, as fearsome a guardian as anyone could desire. No matter whether the pupils admired, hated, or feared him, there was not a single one of them, of any house, who did not respect him and feel safer for his sinister presence at Hogwarts.
The war had done that for him. Death for many, defeat for some, victory for others - and redemption for Severus Snape, in the eyes of his colleagues and his students. In one single day the past had ceased to matter, and the future, for the first time in years, became important. Snape was determined to live his life as fully as he possibly could, refusing to allow the sacrifice of the many who had died for the sake of freedom to be in vain. It was a philosophy he shared with Harry Potter and Sirius Black, though none of them expressed it aloud. It was redemption. It was freedom. It was salvation.
It was penance.
A/N I'd like to thank every one of you for reviewing and encouraging me! This has been a depressing piece to write, especially under circumstances I won't go into (but they explain, perhaps, the lighter note of the ending).
Also, I promised ages ago a Severus/Minerva angst piece. This obviously isn't it, but I'm thinking about making that piece a continuation of this timeline/universe. I'd welcome thoughts and advice on that - do you like this view of the future, and would anyone like to see more of it from a Snape/McG angle?
Thanks once again to all you lovely readers, especially Helena who encourages me constantly both online and in person :-)