"Professor!"
Harry burst into Dumbledore's office, having received the password from Professor Flitwick. The little man had gone wide-eyed as Harry gasped out the situation and given him the password immediately, then rushed off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest with a speed suited to his small stature.
"Harry." Dumbledore looked up with a small smile, a smile that quickly faded as he took in the agitation on Harry's face. "What is it?"
"Pro-professor McGonagall sent me to tell you- Professor Snape- at the Forest- he's hurt- something's wrong- told me to come get you." He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his head swimming as he sucked in air. He doubled over as a fit of coughing over took him, and by the time he looked up with watering eyes, Dumbledore had already gathered his cloak about him and was headed for the door.
"Come with me," Dumbledore said as he strode quickly out the door and down the stairs. "We don't have time to waste."
"But-" Harry trotted obediently after as he protested. "Professor McGonagall told me to stay here, in the castle where it's safe."
"McGonagall may be your head of House, Harry, but I am in a position to overrule her if I see fit." Dumbledore glanced quickly back. "There's no time for questions. Please come with me."
"Yessir." Harry, already out of breath from his previous run up to the castle now strained every muscle in his boy as he tried to keep up. For all his age Dumbledore could certainly move when he wanted to!
"Where?" Dumbledore asked once they were outside. Harry pointed mutely to the section of Forest where they had found Snape. The Headmaster frowned as he saw the Dark Mark in the sky above the trees. It still jeered down at the castle, its green features casting an eerie light over the field and lake. Harry suppressed a shudder as it returned his gaze.
"Show me."
Harry led the old Headmaster down the path he had been just minutes before. In a matter of moments, they caught sight of McGonagall and Flitwick and both of them broke into a run.
"Albus!" McGonagall cried in relief. "Albus, thank God!" Dumbledore hurried to kneel down beside her. Harry stood back, uncertain.
"He's not responding," McGonagall told him as he checked Snape's pulse. "I don't know how stable he is, I can't even tell if he's aware of what's going on. He won't talk to me and the only reason I know he's awake is because he'll start crying out if you get too close."
As if to prove her point, Snape began to whimper as Dumbledore ran his fingers over his throat, checking the rhythm of his heart. The Headmaster looked down sadly at his young Potions Master.
"Bring him inside," he instructed her. "We'll see what Poppy can do. Filius?"
"Yes, Albus?" the little man piped up from his place beside Harry. "I know. I'll take care of it right away."
Dumbledore smiled wearily. "Thank you, Filius. Harry, will you please accompany him to see Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yessir," Harry said immediately. He followed Flitwick away from the tree line and back to the castle. He looked back once and was surprised to see McGonagall's eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't describe and he looked quickly away.
"What are we doing?" he gasped at Flitwick. The little man kept up his breakneck pace as he replied.
"Poppy needs to be woken," he said as they ran. "Then the Hospital Wing has to be...prepared."
"Prepared?" Harry was confused. What could he possibly mean by that? Was there some sort of medicine they had to mix? But how would they do that if they didn't even know what was wrong with Snape?
But it was none of those things.
"I'm going to put sound proofing charms around the whole Wing," Filius said, his squeaky voice grim. "This isn't the first time Severus has come back in a bad state. And if his injuries don't wake him up screaming in the middle of the night, the nightmares will."
"Oh." Again Harry felt that peculiar twist in his stomach. "How-" he swallowed heavily. "How often has this happened?"
"Often enough." The two said no more as they raced against time to reach the dark, silent castle.
It took only a moment to wake Madam Pomfrey. Flitwick sent her word through a messenger spell and almost immediately she was there, still dressed in her night robes and cap. She took one look at Flitwick and Harry and her mouth thinned.
"Severus is back, then?" she asked. Harry knew she didn't expect an answer, but Flitwick gave her one anyway.
"It's bad," the Charms Professor confirmed. "There's something wrong with him this time. I've never seen him quite like this. Dumbledore wants the setup like always, but something tells me we're going to need more than that tonight." Harry saw him glance quickly his way. "I have a feeling we're going to need everything we've got."
The two of them went off, presumably to ready the Hospital Wing for Snape's arrival. Harry stayed behind in the waiting room, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs. A lot of things made sense now that hadn't before. The odd silences during class time, the occasional substitute for days at a time. Given, it hadn't happened often, and Harry had a hunch that it was only recently that Snape had resumed his duties in earnest. What Dumbledore had said to him when Voldemort's revival first became known only confirmed it.
Harry clenched his fists to stop his hands from trembling, though whether it was from cold or something else he did not know. Severus, you know what I must ask you to do...
Flitwick had said that Snape had never come back in such a shape. Try as he might, Harry couldn't shake the vision of Snape lying there against the tree, his eyes blank and unseeing, without the spark of light that usually burned in the black pupils. It disturbed him more than he cared to admit to see his sharp, caustic Professor reduced to such a stupor. He shuddered to think of what the man must have gone through, where every one of those mottled, purple bruises had come from.
But why now? It was obvious that Snape couldn't have gone through the same thing each and every time he visited with the Death Eaters. No man could have survived such treatment as many times as that would have been. And besides, someone would have noticed if it happened too often. Rumours flew faster than arrows at Hogwarts.
Suddenly, Harry was reminded of his second meeting with Voldemort, the only one he could remember. After the third task had gone terribly, terribly wrong he was bound to the headstone, laid out to take part in a ritual he would have given his very life to have avoided. He still woke in a cold sweat, even a year later as dreams of a cold finger traced his cheek, or Wormtail's hot breath stung his face. He still heard the Wormtail's screams at night, still saw Cedric's lifeless body splayed limply on the ground.
But now he remembered something else, something that hadn't seemed as important at the time. Voldemort had known!
He stiffened in his chair as the realization hit him. Once Voldemort had gathered his choice few around him at his reawakening, his serpent eyes had not missed the gaps in the circle, nor had the implications gone unnoticed. Harry remembered him saying something about one who had turned his back on the Death Eaters forever, and how he would be found and punished. In his daze of pain and shock at Cedric's death, the words had no meaning for him then. Not even when he returned to Hogwarts had the implications sunk in. If they had, if he had but realized what Voldemort had meant-
He had been talking about Snape! Harry thought to himself and nearly cried out in startlment at the realization. Snape had turned traitor on them, and he knew! Now, not knowing that he had been found out, Snape had returned at Dumbledore's request, ignorant of the fate that awaited him.
Merlin! Harry swore to himself with all the experience that being around Sirius had given him. If he had but known! Surely Dumbledore would not have sent Snape back into that if he had known what awaited him. Surely this whole disaster could have been avoided if he had but known!
He was on the verge of jumping from his seat and running to find Dumbledore that very moment when the doors to the Hospital Wing flew open, making such a venture unnecessary as Dumbledore and McGonagall burst in, supporting Snape between them.
"In here." Madam Pomfrey appeared at the entrance to the infirmary and motioned for them to come in. "Bring him in here. Filius is putting the last of the charms up and I've got everything ready." Harry saw her eyes widen as she took in Snape's battered form, but other than her face turning a little paler, she didn't react. "What happened?"
Professor McGonagall related the tale rapidly, her eyes fixed on Snape's unseeing face. Pomfrey proceeded to settle the Potions Master in one of the several beds as she listened.
Harry, meanwhile, hung back uncertainly. He was torn between wanting to get someone's attention and not wanting to interfere with Pomfrey's ministrations. "Professor-?"
"Harry." Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I think it's best if you went back to your dorm now."
"Yessir. I mean, nossir. I-" Harry stopped, his face turning as red as Ron's hair. "What I mean is-"
"Yes?" Dumbledore watched Harry over the top of his silver spectacles.
"Voldemort knew about Snape!" he finally blurted. "After Wormtail brought him back and he called his Death Eaters to him, he noticed Snape wasn't there and said something about a traitor and that they were going to find him and-"
"Slow down, my boy." Dumbledore took Harry firmly by the shoulder and led him over to a chair. "Take things slowly. One sentence at a time. Now, tell me what happened."
Harry took a deep breath. "After the third task, remember I told you how Voldemort called his Death Eaters to him?"
"I do."
"He went through them and noticed the ones that were missing. He said something about one of them turning his back on him and that when he was caught, he would be dealt with." Harry clenched his trembling hands into fists. "I think he meant Snape," he finished miserably.
For a long time, Dumbledore said nothing. Harry sat and waited for the chastising he knew would surely follow. If only he had been a little smarter, a little quicker. If only he had come to the realization sooner, none of this might have happened.
"This is....enlightening," Dumbledore said at length. "It would certainly explain why Severus was returned to us in such a...state." Harry watched as the Headmaster sighed and removed his glasses. "I knew it was only a matter of time before Severus was found out," he said. "Severus knew it too. It was only a question of when, and to what end." He polished his spectacles carefully on the hem of his robes.
"It's all my fault," Harry said miserably. "If I had paid a little more attention to what Voldemort said-"
"You had your mind on other things at that time, if I'm not mistaken," Dumbledore said firmly. "Namely your own life. I would not expect for you to have taken the time to work out all the small details of your tribulation, nor would I have expected it from anyone else in your place." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I fear we have come to see more of the scar you wear than the person you are. Perhaps it is time we ceased looking at you as the Boy-Who-Lived and saw you instead as Harry Potter, Hogwarts' student. We have made ourselves believe that with your presence, we no longer need to watch out for ourselves. We have made you a cure-all, something you cannot be."
"Albus!"
Dumbledore started and rose as McGonagall's voice cut through the waiting room. "Go back to bed, Harry," he said, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. "You are no more responsible for what happened to Severus than I am, less, in fact. It is not your duty to protect. Not yet, and hopefully, not ever."
"Yessir."
"And Harry?" Dumbledore's eyes were grave as he leveled a look at his student. "Just because people want you to be something doesn't mean you have to live up to their expectations. I will see you tomorrow at breakfast."
Harry nodded reluctantly and watched as Dumbledore headed off in the direction of the Hospital proper. He didn't believe a word Dumbledore said, though. In his mind, he was still at fault for what had happened to Snape. Yet what had happened? Other than the cuts and bruises, it was hard for him to tell the extent of the Potion Master's injuries. As he walked up the steps to the Gryffindor Tower he shuddered, certain he could hear Snape's screams through the silencing charms.
"Mrph? Harry?" Ron's voice traced its way through the silent dorm.
"Nothing. Go back to sleep. Transfiguration test tomorrow." Harry held his breath until Ron lapsed back into slumber and lay for a time, listening to his friend's easy breathing.
How many times had he thought the exact same things as Dumbledore had told him tonight? There were times he didn't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. He hadn't asked for it, and Merlin knew that if he could give up the title he would, with less than a moment's notice.
But would he really?
In spite of himself, Harry found himself wondering. Yes, he wanted to live a normal life, just another Hogwarts' student. Yes, he wanted to get rid of the damn scar on his head, so that people would see him as a person, not a savior. He wanted to laugh, to eat, to groan about homework and tests, to play Quidditch. But at what cost? If he got what he wanted, if he became all those things and none of what he was, where did that leave everyone else? Other people needed him, not as a person, but as a concept. Who cared if he wasn't strong enough to take on a single Death Eater by himself now, it was what he represented that mattered. People needed to be able to whisper to each other that the Boy-Who-Lived would one day bring down the Dark Lord. They needed to believe.
But what about him? What about what he needed?
Exhausted though he was, it was a long time before Harry Potter was able to sleep, and when he did, it was far from restful.
"Neville, would you kindly go and fetch your mouse? It seems to have taken up residence by the door, the one and only sign that your spell may have succeeded."
To any other student, Professor McGonagall would have come across as completely normal, no different than any other day, though she might appear a bit more snappish than usual. Harry, however, saw the tell-tale bags under her eyes, the lines of red that traced beyond her irises. The edge in her voice was not totally due to Neville's failed spell, nor were her hands shaking as a result of too many papers to grade the previous night.
Harry shuddered as he tried to push the memories of last night into some far corner of his mind and set to work on his dormouse.
"Mutanis," he muttered, pointing his wand at the tiny rodent. The mouse sat back to look at him, then proceeded to was its little face with its paws, still as mouse-like as could be. Beside him, he heard Ron struggling with his own animal.
"Mutanis, damn you, change!" Cursing, apparently, magical or otherwise, seemed to have no effect on the immutable rodents. Students everywhere were cursing, shrieking and screaming as the little mice scampered across the tables, round, furry and with four legs as always. Somewhere on the other side of the classroom, Parvati Patil had dropped her mouse on the floor and was now standing atop the desk, screeching and pointing.
Hermione rolled her eyes and aimed her wand at the mouse sitting before her. "Mutanis mus," she intoned. The rodent squeaked in surprise, then began to flatten out until it was the length and width of a placemat. Ears, eyes, nose and tail disappeared as the poor dormouse became a very serviceable doormat. "Remutanis," she said and the process reversed itself, leaving her with a very put out dormouse.
"I wish I knew how you did that," Ron muttered darkly from his place beside Harry. He now had something vaguely resembling a crawling sheet of rolled dough. He made a face and tried to change it back, but the obstinate thing just kept crawling until it was at the edge of the table. "Hermione, quick! Help!"
"Oh for Merlin's sake." With a quick flick of her wand, the mouse was back to its usual form. It sat blinking for a moment, then cast an icy look at Ron before scurrying behind a textbook to sulk.
"What's up, Harry, you've been quiet lately."
"Eh? Oh, nothing." Harry flashed a quick grin in Ron's direction before turning his attention back to his own mouse. "How 'bout this," he whispered, leaning down close to the rodent's ear. "You go along with me and become a doormat for a few minutes, just long enough for Professor McGonagall to see, and I don't feed you to Crookshanks. Mutanis mus!"
To his very real surprise, the dormouse squeaked and flattened almost immediately. A heartbeat later a doormat lay where his mouse used to be. "I guess that worked..."
"Well done, Mr. Potter."
The sound of McGonagall's voice was startlingly close to Harry's ear. He wondered for a moment how she could have come up behind him so quietly, then reminded himself that this was a woman who spent much of her time as a tabby cat.
"Err, thanks, Professor." He held his breath and thought up a quick prayer, then pointed his wand again. "Remutanis mus!"
"Hmm...perhaps a little work is in order," McGonagall said as the doormat lay flat and unresponsive on the desk. "Remutanis." The mat immediately sprung up to its old, furry self. "Good work, Miss Granger. Miss Patil, would you please come down off that desk? I believe I would rather lose you to rabid mouse bites than to a broken neck. Thank you. Neville, will you please go get your mouse? Now?"
"Erm, Professor?"
"Not now, Harry." McGonagall was off in a flurry of mixed scolding and praise, leaving Harry standing in her wake, a confused white mouse sitting on his shoulder.
"But, Professor-"
"Not now, Harry." McGonagall turned and fixed Harry with an icy stare. "If you wish to talk to me, see me in private in my office. Not now."
"Yes, ma'am." Harry looked down, abashed. He knew now was not the time to bring up such matters, but the curiosity was eating him alive, overcoming his better sense. It was obvious none of the others knew anything about the events occurring last night or he would have heard at least a dozen wild rumours on his way to breakfast that morning.
"Eh, what's up with her this morning?" Ron asked as he poked his mouse with his wand, much to Parvati's dismay. "Oh, come off it, it's just a mouse. Not like poking it's any crueler than turning it into a doormat!" Having won that side of the argument, Ron resumed his conversation with Harry. "I've seen her cross before, but she seems- I dunno."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Harry had only half an ear on what Ron was saying. The rest of him was staring off into space, thinking about the previous night. The bright, glowing green of the hideous skull, the chilling voice that had uttered the dread word and Snape-
"So what were you out so late for last night, anyway?"
Harry shook himself out of his reverie. "Nothing," he lied quickly. "Couldn't sleep, is all. Went for a walk around the lake."
"Yeah? Lavender said she thought she saw you coming from the Hospital Wing."
Harry felt his heart stop. "S'that right?" he asked, feigning indifference. "Could be. Had a bit of a headache last night, went to see if I could find Pomfrey."
"You said you had a headache?" Hermione had finished with her mouse and now joined the two of them in conversation. "It's not your scar again, is it? Were you having dreams again, last night?"
Harry shook his head. "No," he said, the lie sliding easily off his tongue. "Just a headache. I think it might have been from breathing all that incense in Trelawney's room."
Ron laughed. "I'm surprised we don't all choke to death in there," he agreed. "Hey, we're gonna be late for Potions if we don't hurry."
Potions. Harry froze, running the possibilities through his mind. Snape was there, looking as he always did. Snape was there, but as bruised and beaten as he had appeared last night. Worse yet- Snape was not there at all.
"You two go ahead," he said, pretending to search for something on the ground beneath the desk. "I'll catch up with you later."
"Nah, we'll wait for you."
"Really, I'm going to be a while. Save a seat for me in Potions."
"You sure, Harry? We'll wait if you want."
"Thanks, Ron. Just go on ahead. I'll catch up."
As soon as Ron and Hermione had left, Harry straightened and looked around. The room was deserted except for Professor McGonagall who was still stuffing mice back into their cages.
He went up to her hesitantly. "Professor?"
"Go to class, Harry." Was it his imagination or did her voice have the slightest tremor to it? "You're going to be late." When he didn't move, she turned and faced him. "Harry, I know you have questions, and I know you're confused about what happened last night."
"Confused doesn't even begin to describe it," he almost said, but bit his tongue.
"Snape won't be in class today, but I assure you, your questions will be answered in time." She grabbed an unfortunate mouse by the tail and shoved it into the cage. "Don't be late."
"Yes, ma'am." Harry turned and shuffled out of the classroom in the direction of the dungeons. Well, that answered one of his questions, at least. Snape would not be in class today. But that just raised another dozen in his mind. If he wasn't in class, where was he? Was he still in the Hospital Wing? If he was, why? What exactly was wrong with him?
Regardless of what he hoped, none of Harry's questions were answered as he made his way down to the Potions classroom.
"Find what you were looking for?" Hermione asked him as he slid into the seat beside her.
"Uh, yeah. No problem." He caught her giving him an odd look, but tried his best to ignore it by digging through his bag.
"Where's Snape at? He's never late-"
"Professor Snape will not be attending this morning, Mr. Weasley." Professor Vector stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Immediately, a clamor arose from the gathered students.
"Where is he?"
"Is he sick?"
"Is he dead?"
Vector turned to glare in the direction of the hopeful sounding voice. "Professor Snape is not dead," she said icily. "However much that disappoints some of you. He will not be attending class for the rest of this week, however. You are excused from Potions until further notice is given by Headmaster Dumbledore. Dismissed."
"Eck," Ron muttered to Harry as she turned and left. "That's one very good reason I'm not taking arithmancy."
"That, and the fact that you're just no bloody good at it," Hermione said. "C'mon, let's head up to the common room."
"What, not the library? Good God, Harry, this must be a first!"
Hermione scowled and elbowed Ron in the ribs. "Don't be such a prick," she told him as they gathered their books into their bags. "I'm not in the mood for studying." At Ron's incredulous look, she rolled her eyes. "Look, it's not important. Let's just go, alright?"
"Fine, fine. Whatever you say." Ron turned to Harry. "Game of chess?"
"Sure." Harry barely heard Ron as he stared after Professor Vector. It looked as if still no answers would come today.
"Ron, meeting in the Great Hall tonight before supper," Percy's voice came drifting into the common room from somewhere by the stairs. "Let others know."
"Yeah, yeah, let me do all the work for you," Ron grumbled as they listened to Percy's footsteps recede down the hall. "Meeting tonight? What about, I wonder."
"Probably Filch complaining about the noise or something," George spoke up from a chair near the fire. "Or he's got another five thousand items to add to his 'forbidden' list. Hey, I know! Maybe he wants to forbid brooms to everyone but the Quidditch players!"
"He can try," Ron snapped, fists clenched. "If he does, I've got seven sickles saying that Wood's gonna come back here to show that little-"
"It's about Snape," Harry said monotonously. All eyes swiveled to look in his direction. "They're going to explain why he hasn't been in class lately." He stared into the fire, still seeing the green sparks fly amidst the more cheerful red and orange. Morsmordre. The skull, the fire, the sparks.
He jumped as Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. "You want to talk about it?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know what you mean," he lied.
"Okay." He could tell by the look in Hermione's eyes that she wasn't convinced, but was content to leave him be until he was ready. For that, he thanked her. "It's just- you haven't really been yourself for these past few days."
"I'm just...I dunno. I guess I'm just tired." Harry shrugged. Ron nodded.
"Yeah," he said, watching the chess pieces pick themselves up from the battlefield and limp home towards the box. "What with OWLs and everything coming up soon, it's been a rough few weeks."
"That must be it," Harry said. He gave Hermione a smile that he hoped was reassuring. "I'll be fine. Really."
"Okay." It was obvious that she was still doubtful, but before she could say anything more, Ron stood.
"Meeting starts in a few minutes," he said as he placed the box back where it came from. "We might as well head down now."
Despite their early arrival, the Great Hall was nearly packed as they walk in through the double doors. They scrambled to find three seats together at the Gryffindor table and had just sat down as Dumbledore entered, a sober expression on his normally jovial face.
He looked over the assembled students, his blue eyes dull and clouded for the first time Harry could remember. He felt a chill in his spine as he remembered the same look in Snape's eyes, just days before.
"Many of you," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying clearly over the hushed crowd of students. "Many of you have been wondering as to the whereabouts of Hogwarts' Potions Master, Professor Snape." He took a deep breath and glanced at Professor McGonagall. The Transfigurations Professor had her hands clenched tightly in her lap as she returned Dumbledore's worried look.
"I believe it is time that we cleared up some of Professor Snape's past," he continued, looking directly at Harry. Harry swallowed and looked away. "I know there are many of you here who hold him in a rather-- unsavory light. To most of us he has come across as bitter, harsh, cruel and remote. He has never been the helping hand or the caring voice that has helped many of us through our hard times, nor has he been the most understanding of people when it came to a late homework assignment or a failed class project." Murmurs of agreement swept over the room as heads nodded and low keyed insults flew from mouth to ear. Dumbledore waited patiently for the noise to subside.
"I cannot excuse Professor Snape's behavior, nor can I condone it. However, I can at least help you to understand a little better the man you all grew to hate." Harry watched as Dumbledore took a deep breath and wondered absently whether the Headmaster knew what he was getting into or not. "Severus Snape was a liar, a murderer, a traitor, and a Death Eater."
The muted whispers grew into a dull roar at the sound of Dumbledore's words. Students began shouting, demanding explanations, excuses, proof. Shouts of "I told you so," echoed throughout the chamber. Harry flicked his eyes in the direction of the Slytherin table, where Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy all sat in dumb surprise, although it was unclear as to whether or not the surprise was due to the news of Snape's true past, or because Dumbledore had chosen to disclose the information so publicly.
When it became evident that this noise would not abate as quickly or as easily as the former had, Dumbledore raised his hands for quiet. When even that failed, he turned to Professor Sinistra who raised her wand and fired a stream of brightly colored sparks into the air, demanding attention.
"Professor Snape was all of these things," Dumbledore continued smoothly, as if he had never been interrupted. "But first and foremost, Severus was an ally to the Ministry." His blue eyes were sad as he spoke. "Many of us may have suspected Snape of dealing with the Darker Arts, but few of us knew of his true position." Again, those blue eyes found Harry's green. Slowly, word by agonizing word, Dumbledore released the true Snape before each and all of the gathered students. Expressions ranged from shock and disbelief to tears and clenched knuckles. Crabbe and Goyle sat in stony silence, while Draco kept his gaze fixed carefully on Dumbledore.
"He did not act without risk," Dumbledore was saying. "And never was that risk more apparent than four nights ago. While on a mission for the Ministry, Professor Snape was discovered by the Death Eaters for what he was. He was returned to us that night, and until now we did not fully appreciate the cruelty of Voldemort's followers."
Beside him, Harry sensed Ron and Hermione's wince at Voldemort's name. A cold lump settled in the pit of his stomach.
"Professor Snape will no longer hold his position as Potions Master for this school. Likewise, he will give up his place as Head of Slytherin House. Professor Sinistra will now hold that honour."
Dubious as it may be, Harry thought to himself. Yet what could be so bad as to make Snape resigned his place as both Potions Master and Head of House?
"Four nights ago, Professor Snape lost something most of us could never dream of living without. Indeed, most of us have never even considered life without it. That night the Death Eaters took from him the most integral sense a wizard could have, sight. It left him nothing more than the shell of a man. It is possible he may one day regain his former self, but he will never be the same man most of us knew."
Harry felt his heart grow cold. One has turned his back on the Death Eaters forever. When found, he will be suitably punished. If he had only been a little clearer, a little faster, a little smarter-
Dumbledore's voice grew hard as it rang out across the vast hall. "Let us hold this in our minds and hearts when the time comes. When faced with the choice between right and wrong, hard or easy, let you all remember the man who took it upon himself to right his own faults and risk his very life to do so. Let us remember this thing that calls itself a man who could so easily take the life of a good, honest boy such as Cedric Diggory, who could so harshly take the very core of a man who sought nothing more than redemption. Remember these acts when you are offered power, riches, fame in exchange for your soul. May you never cross that line to join a creature so foul as to tear down the lives of those who are truly good, and if you should ever be faced with such a choice, may you remember the lives of those he ruined. Always remember the name of Cedric Diggory and the man Severus Snape once was."
"May we always remember," Harry muttered in chorus with the rest of the students and teachers. Filled goblets appeared before each of them and they all took a sip, savoring the taste of memories along with the bitter taste of the wine. Harry noticed several students who had burst into tears during Dumbledore's speech, and knew that the tears were for Cedric. There was not one student in the entire hall who would shed a tear for Snape. Hermione clenched her fist on the table, her eyes burning with fierce light. Across the table from him, Ginny worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Ron sat uncomfortably, staring at his hands.
"May we always remember," he whispered again, staring blankly at the table where green sparks danced before his eyes. The skull, the serpent, the man.
May we always remember.