Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter & associated characters

Harry had sometimes speculated that, perhaps, Snape may have seen something of Lily Evans in the beautiful redhaired girl with the quick temper.

Harry couldn't know how different the two witches were. Lily had not been one to alternate between brooding by herself and intense, nearly violent action. Lily hadn't learned a single hex not on the established Defense OWLs and NEWTs list, and certainly hadn't become infamous for one with "Bogey" right in the name. Lily didn't play Quidditch, and she didn't crave the feeling of ice crystals whipping into her face.

Lily never looked like a fool pursuing someone who just … didn't notice.

Lily never sat, slouched against the dungeon wall, staring into the middle distance and wondering thoughts too dark to share with a journal.

Snape didn't like identifying with students.

When Ginny Weasley stopped brooding and started smiling again, he felt his empathy slip away with a feeling of relief.

As he listened to Hooch brag, again, about her new protegée, he sneered. Another Gryffindor, another Weasley, another broom-obsessed student with – mercifully – nothing in common with himself.

If Severus felt a sense of satisfaction at a well-laid scheme paying off, it was surely only due to a need to keep nights in his dungeon corridors free of hex-happy Gryffindor idiots.


"Yes, a nice healthy boy," the Healer hovering his wand above Ginny states. "Heart developing nicely. Kidneys – good function. Everything good so far."

Harry is in a daze. He was thrilled to learn anything about the new baby – their new son, he should say. But he'd have to stop calling the baby "Lily" now.

Ginny smirks. "Ready to talk names again?"

After holding out for weeks for "Wayne" (he'd spent many happy moments curled up with Batman comics stolen from Dudley's room), Harry suggests the idea of naming their son "Albus."

Ginny pauses before responding. She's never been as big a fan of the Headmaster as Harry was, although she did propose the name Dumbledore's Army back in her fourth year. "I hated him sometimes," Ginny says. "When I found out."

Harry shrugs. "I tossed his office once. I used to spend a lot of time, thinking about whether he was good or not, and if I could have done better in his shoes."

"I know you could have, because you did. You have."

"Still. There was nobody I would rather have had leading me. I mean, who else did we have? Scrimgeour? Fudge? They would have used me, but ineffectively. And without much concern for anything I had to genuinely contribute."

Harry the Auror has seen a lot, done a lot. He just likes to get the job done, and if a leader doesn't actively get in his way, he gets Harry's respect.

Ginny knows where this conversation leads, and she's bored of Harry's pro-Dumbledore rants.

"Al is a cute nickname," she ponders. She pictures a tiny little version of Harry. Al Potter.

Being the son of the Savior of the Wizarding World already gives their child big shoes to fill. May as well pile on the big names right?

"What about the middle name Merlin?" she asks.

Harry likes it, and he wonders aloud why there aren't more wizarding kids named Merlin. She laughs and tells him even the Malfoys wouldn't be that pretentious. She needs to pee. Again.


He didn't even bother to disarm the children, just flicked his wand and sent the Sword back to its place on the wall.

The three of them tried to hit him with Stunners, but it'd been a while since that night in the Shrieking Shack when he was overpowered by Third Years. That Snape didn't consider the true capabilities of desperate, cornered students. This Snape was ready to block before the spells even leave their wands.

He did so without speaking, with contempt, barely even bothering to sneer.

"He doesn't care about you," Ginny panted. "You're nothing to him."

Neville yelled something incoherent about Dumbledore.

Snape ignored them both and sent the Carrows out. "You have all behaved quite foolishly," he finally hissed.

"Stupid little Ginny, right?" Ginny snarls. "That's what he thought, too. Riddle. But Harry ended that version of him, and the ugly version he is now doesn't stand a chance against Harry. At least then he was good-looking. Why would you believe anything that comes out of that hideous monster's mouth now?"

Snape stopped then, staring directly into her eyes. No need for Legilimency - he can tell what she's remembering because she's got that look again.

Snape was already used to hiding his knowledge of the fate of that diary from the Dark Lord. But he didn't need the Carrows getting interested in why some students were Petrified a few years back, and why they haven't been since.

"Do you know, Miss Weasley, why you never heard that name? Why so few – no, none – of your peers could warn you about that name, and what it meant?"

He smirked at her confusion.

"The Dark Lord's first rise was terrible indeed," he continued. "Those who spoke aloud of their school days with him, who used the name taken from his worthless Muggle father, ended up buried. If there was anything worth burying, that is. It is the height of foolishness to speak his chosen name aloud. But his earliest name - that led into the most gruesome kinds of bodies discovered. Let the Carrows discover you even know that name, and there's little I'll be able to do to keep you alive another day. No matter how pure your blood may be."

Luna, still in her own world, made a sudden plan to convince Peeves to start singing songs about one Tom Riddle.

"He's not any kind of Lord!" Ginny yelled. "He's just a show-off, a fake! He's just tricking you, making you do his dirty work for him, just like he did me. But you're just stupid little Severus to him, no matter what you do or how many people you kill!"

No student ever used his first name. Snape knew the girl was trying to infuriate him, but her attempt almost made him laugh in her face. He sensed his death approaching, and each time his Mark summoned him, he assumed he would die at the Dark Lord's hand. Stupid little Severus – well, obviously.

His face remained aloof as he retorted, "The Dark Lord's view of me is irrelevant to our conversation. And it's Headmaster to you."

He paused, savoring the glares. Well, Miss Lovegood wasn't glaring, but gazing vacantly at a chair. Once again, she looked as if she'd gotten lost at a picnic and couldn't remember whether she liked deviled eggs or not. Had she really intended to help steal the Sword, or had she just tagged along? How the hell had she survived the battle at the Ministry? How had any of them?

"Detention for all of you, and double for Miss Weasley, for the cheek. And I don't know what you thought you'd accomplish here tonight, what you thought you'd manage to do with a Sword you've no ability to wield, but it was exactly nothing."

"Send us down to the dungeons for torture, will you?" Neville snarled. "I'd rather it be us than the First Years your friends like to use."

Snape sneered. "You'll go with Hagrid to the Forbidden Forest. The centaurs have been complaining of a Muggle vehicle. You'll locate this vehicle, subdue it, and attempt to remove the Mobility Charms Miss Weasley's ridiculous and irresponsible father appears to have placed on it, in defiance of several laws and general common sense. Now GO."