A/N – this chapter is dedicated to Odd World, who is the only person who reviewed Chapter 12. Well done you and thank you for your nice comments.

Chapter 13 – Another picture in another Daily Prophet

Severus awoke.  He stretched his limbs and felt that something was not quite the same.

Gradually sitting up, he managed to look around.  He was in hospital – looked like St. Mungo's.  Why was he here?  He searched his mind for his last few memories.  He didn't remember going to hospital.

The Ministry – the fire.  Tarquin.  He groaned, and wondered why he was still alive.

A nurse saw that he was awake, and came over.  She had a cheery expression that indicated she had no idea who he was.

"And good afternoon to you, Mr. Snape," she said.  "So good to see you awake."

"How long have I been here?"

"About a month now."

"A month?  What happened?"

"One of the Aurors brought you in…"  Oh no, don't let it be James Potter.  "A Mr. Bancroft I think.  After all that happened at the Ministry, I hear you're lucky to be alive.  Did a Death Eater attack you?"

"You might want to put it like that," Severus said dryly.  His head was swimming.  What exactly had happened?

She reached into a cupboard next to his bed and handed him a copy of The Daily Prophet.

DEATH EATERS BURN MINISTRY TO THE GROUND

Last night, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers committed their worst act yet – the destruction of the Ministry of Magic.  Almost one hundred Death Eaters descended upon the Ministry, killed Ministry workers and burning vital documents.  Fortunately, the Minister had had the foresight to keep copies of these documents elsewhere.

Jairus Peacock himself escaped – wisely the Minister Apparated as soon as the Death Eaters had destroyed the Apparition wards.  Due to the fine work of Aurors, many others also escaped, the youngest being Robert Tarquin, a Hogwarts student and the son of a Ministry official.  It is thought that he had attempted to save his father's life.  Peter Tarquin did indeed survive, but tragically, possibly too disturbed by what he had seen, young Robert today committed suicide.  The talented Gryffindor will be sadly missed…

"Tarquin was a Gryffindor?" Severus murmured, not knowing what to take in first.

The nurse laughed.  "What did you think he was – a Slytherin?"

Severus didn't reply.  So – Tarquin was dead.  Why had he killed himself?  There could be so many reasons.  For a moment, he actually felt sad for the boy.  Then he cautioned himself not to be sentimental.  He was still a spy.  His identity was protected.  Yet he felt so uneasy reading those words – another Death Eater who was not a Slytherin, who had felt wretched enough to kill himself.  Perhaps it had just been because he plainly wasn't as great a Death Eater as he thought he was.  Perhaps not.

He reread the beginning of the article.  The first line invoked his scorn – certainly the carnage was more outright, but then, they had done much crueller things.  They had used the Cruciatus curse on children.  He had seen young Muggle women raped just for the 'thrill'.  Death Eaters had destroyed Greentrees Primary School.  At least at the Ministry workers had died quickly.

He looked up.  The nurse was still smiling.  He became irritated.

"What's so amusing?  Have so many people died that it's become a joke?"

"Mr. Snape, the war is over."  She pulled a second newspaper from the cupboard, and placed it in front of him triumphantly.  He read the headline, agape.

THE BOY WHO LIVED DEFEATS THE DARK LORD

Below it was a picture – the ruins of a house.  The caption read The Potters' house in Godric's Hollow, after the destruction.  There was no Dark Mark.  No Dark Mark!  What in the name of Merlin happened?  And what does it have to do with the Potters?  He read the article.

THE BOY WHO LIVED DEFEATS DARK LORD

Young Harry Potter is the Infant Saviour of the Wizarding World

Dark spells lifted, dark enchantments destroyed, Confundus curses broken and Death Eaters fled.   Magical authorities believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone forever.  And all because of a year-old baby called Harry Potter.

Last night, at the tiny village of Godric's Hollow, an event both tragic and miraculous occurred.  James Potter, a recently qualified Auror, and his beautiful wife Lily were hidden by a Fidelius charm, after spies reported that the young Auror was to be the Dark Lord's next victim.  They must have been betrayed in order for the Dark Lord to find them - but find them he did, killing both James and Lily with Avada Kedavra.

However, on casting his wand upon their small son Harry, the deadly curse was deflected, leaving only a distinctive lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.  Experts are baffled at the power that such a child must possess in order to resist a curse that, when executed correctly, is completely unstoppable.  It seems that not only did the curse deflect from Harry, but was actually reflected and returned upon the caster, which a surge of energy so great that the small house was blown to ruins and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named apparently destroyed.

This morning, as Albus Dumbledore prepares to find a home for the tragically orphaned Harry Potter, the Wizarding World awoke to find that several Ministry officials that had been behaving strangely and irrationally had recovered from Confundus curses, and many witches and wizards missing presumed dead found their way home, dazed but alive.  Said Ministry Spokeswitch Miranda Hopkirk, "It is as if we have all woken from a bad dream."

Jairus Peacock, Minister of Magic, also stated, "The Wizarding World owes a great debt to young Harry Potter.   For the first time in so many years, we are safe from the Dark Lord."

He went on to warn us, "However some of his followers may still be at large!  Please don't be careless, and don't act suspiciously in front of Muggles!"

Celebration parties are expected across the nation – and indeed, across the world.  All because of Harry Potter – the boy who lived.  There are calls to name this day 'Harry Potter Day' in his honour.

"James Potter is dead?"

"As is You-know-who."

"You don't understand – James Potter cannot die.  James Potter wouldn't die until he has great great grandchildren.  James Potter does not know the meaning of death."

"Mr. Snape?"

He couldn't understand his own outburst.  It didn't make any sense.  The Dark Lord was gone.  His spying was over.  But James Potter was dead.  He had thought James Potter would live to torment him for the rest of his life with his own brand of perfection.  Lovely house, lovely wife, lovely baby son.  He hadn't known that Potter had a baby son.  But it fitted.  How could he be dead?

"Were you at school with James Potter?"

He nodded curtly, staring mesmerised at the picture of the house.  How could he have been killed by a mere Avada Kedavra?  Of course, it made sense that it was his son who had at last won out against Voldemort.  If Severus hadn't known better he would have thought James had planned it that way.

The nurse was staring at him, a sentimental sympathy on her face.  "I'm so sorry.  I didn't realise you were friends.  Would you like to see someone?  A chaplain?"

"No.  Of course not.  Now leave me alone."

Intimidated, she hurried away, struggling to maintain some air of professionality.  He picked up the paper again.  James Potter was dead.  Lily was dead.  Lord Voldemort was gone.  He was no longer a spy.  He was no longer anything.  Now that it was over, he would probably be sent to Azkaban, or at the very least dismissed from Potions Research and left to do menial tasks for a pittance.  He was nothing.

Then he caught sight of something else on the article.  A name he recognised a little too well.  Sirius Black.

Secret Keeper Missing

James and Lily were being kept hidden by a Fidelius charm – a charm that makes their location known only to the Secret Keeper – unless of course, the Secret Keeper tells another.  We learn from Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts headmaster, that Sirius Black, allegedly James's best friend thoughout their years at Hogwarts, was the Potters' Secret Keeper.  It is tragic to think that someone James Potter considered utterly loyal could turn out to be his betrayer.  Ministry officials are on the lookout for the fugitive Black, last seen in the vicinity of Godric's Hollow.

This was too much.  Sirius Black was a sociopath of course, but to have caused James's death?  He could barely comprehend why the Wizarding world was celebrating.  He threw down the paper in frustration.

The month comatose had weakened his muscles considerably.  He had to wait until a doctor administered the appropriate potion to have the strength to walk around.  Lost and uncertain of where he would go and what he would do, Severus spent long hours consumed in his own thoughts, wandering the grounds.  He was still too weak to leave, and yet far too awake for his own liking, stuck in a strange bleak limbo.  The Dark Mark on his arm had faded – but not disappeared.  But what did it matter?  He would always be marked visibly or not.  Too much had happened for it to vanish.

Two days after he awoke, he had a visitor.  Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his hand warmly – those sparkly periwinkle eyes were a relief to behold.

"I am so glad that you are awake and almost recovered Severus," he said, his voice full of sincerity.  "We owe you an awful lot for what you did at the Ministry."

Severus wanted to believe him, but his voice was tempered with a tone of despair.  "What I did at the Ministry was nothing to what I have done, Professor."

"Severus, will you ever forgive yourself?"  Dumbledore's voice was pleading.  Severus shook his head.  "How can I forgive myself?  No one else would."

"I forgive you, Severus."

"You're Albus Dumbledore."

"Indeed I am.  You have been told that Lord Voldemort is destroyed?"

"Yes – and that Sirius Black truly is a killer."

Incomprehensible sadness covered Dumbledore's face.  "From what I read, I could conclude no other way.  And yet I can hardly believe it.  But to you, Severus.  How are you feeling?"

Severus would never understand why Dumbledore cared.  But he did.  He sighed.  "Still weak.  Professor – what is to become of me?"

"You'll have to stand trial," Dumbledore said softly.  "I will, of course, vouch for you.  I have little doubt that you will be allowed to go free – after all, if it hadn't been for you, the Minister would be dead by now."

"And after that?"

"Ah – now we come to the main reason for my visit.  Presently Hogwarts has no Potions teacher – Professor Samovar left a few months ago, we have a supply teacher but he will only stay until Christmas.  Your work on potions is outstanding – and I remember that you tended to tutor some of your friends on their Potions homework.  Would you consider becoming my Potions teacher?"

Severus sighed.  So many memories were mixed up in Hogwarts.  But he had done too much to refuse the offer.  Dumbledore made it sound as if Severus would be helping him – but much more than that, he was helping Severus.  He was giving him somewhere to go.

"I would certainly – if you are certain that you would have me."

"I am."

"Thank you."

*

The trial had been fearsome.  Severus's voice had stammered through his testimony, confessing how he had tortured, explaining how he had not killed Arabella Figg, and how he had become a spy.  He was, perhaps, more afraid than he had ever been; more afraid than the time in the Whomping Willow, the time at the house in Dragon Point or the first time he had met Voldemort.  He was afraid of getting everything he knew he deserved.

A line of Aurors were there to declare judgement on him.  Scarred Alastor Moody was one of them, glaring at him sharply with his skeptical Auror eyes.  After giving his statement, Arabella Figg and Albus Dumbledore had spoken in his favour.  Afterwards he learned that he was not to suffer the same fate as Barty Crouch's son, or the Lestranges.  He was relieved, but felt that he had somehow cheated.  Whatever happened, though, he was free.  Free.  Would he ever be free from himself?

If he had cheated, he was not the only one to have done so.  The news kept coming in the papers.  Lucius Malfoy – acquitted.  Was under a Confundus curse, Aurors say.  Malfoy makes huge donation to charity – even the most hard-hearted witch or wizard would be convinced by his sincerity.  Andrew Avery – acquitted.  Also under Confundus curse.  Says Hogwarts' Slytherin house's reputation is 'unfounded and unfair'.  Maintains that Hogwart's ambitious house has no links with the Dark Lord.  Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, McNair – acquitted.  Ivan Karkaroff – sentenced to two years in Azkaban after proving he has revoked loyalty to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

It seemed like the only one who had received his deserved sentence was Sirius Black.

*

Severus did not go to see his family for Christmas that year.  It had been a long time since he had done so.  He did return to the research centre, entrusting McKenzie with his complete set of notes and removing everything that was his.  No warm goodbyes – even if the others didn't know, they had guessed at what he was.  Most of the others simply ignored him – McKenzie made a few cordial remarks but avoided him.

In the conference room, he stopped to look over the papers.  A few Muggle ones had been strewn across the table, mainly the more ridiculous ones read for amusement value.  Daily Prophets were tidied neatly away, no longer carrying news of much interest.  Samuel Tellingford was sat on a chair in the corner reading the Times.  Severus meant to leave without Tellingford noticing, but he looked up.

"I hear you're leaving, Snape.  Good luck with the new job."

Tellingford had always frustrated him, never being logical or consistent.  Whilst the rest were displaying suitable fear or disgust at him, Tellingford was offering a friendly remark.  Unless, of course, it was sarcastic.  You could never tell.

When Severus didn't respond, he put down his paper.  "I read about the trial," he explained.  "I wrote to Jairus Peacock."

"So you know?" Severus said, his voice strained.

"Yes – the burning of Ministry documents seemed an exceptionally stupid gesture for the Death Eaters considering the amount of useful information they could have attained.  I suspected there was more to it – and of course there was.  I was intrigued to hear just why you were absent for so long, and why you hurried away so early the last time you were here."

Severus didn't say anything.  What was there to say?

"Can I make a suggestion?"  Tellingford asked.  "Don't be too hard on yourself."

Severus cast him a surly glare, but still did not respond.  Now the man was being overly trite.

"Oh, don't mistake my meaning, Snape.  You've got a long way to go yet."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Can I be honest with you?"  Severus nodded.  "I think you're a self-absorbed unfeeling bully who rarely thinks of anyone but himself."

Severus was not surprised by the assessment.  "And?" he said, his voice cold.  "Do go on."

Tellingford looked somewhat perturbed by his unaffected answer.  He frowned, continuing with a somehow gentle yet frustrated tone in his voice.  "You're a terribly weak person who considers himself terribly strong – surprised by the existence of a conscience and frightened by emotions.  You would never do anything that was not for your personal gain – you're calculating, cold, and startlingly insincere.  It is a great irony that you saved Arabella Figg's life by simply not killing her.  You are, indeed, adept at Potion making.  You're insecure.  You have a sense of morality that needs to intimidate you before you do anything about it."

Somewhat taken aback, Severus looked him long and hard in the eye.  He was beggared for a response, for the man was right.  Damn him.  At last he spoke.  "So, in light of this, I shouldn't be to hard on myself?"  His voice oozed sarcasm.  He wished the man would shut up before he did any more damage.

Tellingford shook his head, looking sad suddenly.  "You turned back.  You saved lives.  And two of the most important people on our side pleaded for your case.  I don't know what goes on in that head of yours…"  Severus snorted.  He'd done a good enough impression of knowing.  "But people seem to think there's hope for you, so I'd suggest you don't waste it."  He got up.  "Goodday.  And I hope the new job turns out well."  He left.

Severus watched him leave.  The man was a puzzle indeed.  So Tellingford thought that he could redeem himself?  It somehow seemed as if Severus's last chance for redemption had ended too soon, with him comatose.

It remained to be seen what sort of teacher he would be like.  He picked up his remaining belongings and left for the last time.

***

A/N – I actually can't think of anything to say, I'm really just writing this author's note out of habit…

A/N2 – Thanks Odd World :)