"Mama, mama, I saw it again." Al clings to his mother's leg, a fair distance away from the forest beyond the graveyard in Cokeworth.
There's no use explaining anything to a toddler in tears; Ginny knows this from experience. Al wraps his arms around Ginny's neck as she picks him up and pulls him into a tight hug.
"Come here, baby."
Al's hair smells like talcum powder and hot pancakes. Ginny buries her nose into the black nest and kisses his head. She rubs his back, her hand quivering under his sobs.
Ginny's husband Harry insists they come to Cokeworth every autumn to clean the grave of their old professor, Severus Snape. He's the one who had protected them throughout their years at Hogwarts School from the dark wizard Voldemort who sought to kill them.
It's to keep history alive and never forget the sacrifices of others.
Ginny thinks it's a great idea, in theory, but bringing the children here at such a young age has proven to be problematic. They're just too young to understand, to really understand. Ginny's oldest, James, is fine. He is out with his father pulling cobwebs from the tombstones, watering the old ferns and charming the mossy letters clean. It's a great time for Harry to teach James some spells and nurture that father-son connection.
The problem lies with Al whose wild imagination is akin to Ginny's brothers': Fred and George. Al imagined that there were monsters and spirits all around them. He has trouble sleeping at night, either crawling into his parents' bed well past midnight or falling asleep around the house. The worst is that he's too scared to go to the bathroom at night because of the Mirror Woman who lives above the sink and ends up soiling his clothes and sheets. Ginny swears that it's all her brother Ron's fault. He has the habit of telling his nieces and nephews ghost stories and Al is too naive to tell the difference between reality and folklore.
The forest beyond the graveyard is the perfect breeding ground for Al's fears to take form. Ginny admits that even the baby hairs on the back of her neck begin to prickle at the sound of the hollow voice of the wind coming from the forest, keeping all humans at bay.
"Who's hurting my sweet little boy? Tell mama," Ginny coos, rubbing deep circles into her son's back.
"The Black Bear." Al's voice is a whisper.
"The Black Bear huh?" That's a new one.
"He's got black hair-"
"Mhum-hum?"
"A-and pointed ears-"
"Oh?"
"- glowy eyes-"
"Like glow bugs?" Ginny says bulging her eyes out.
"Stop ... mama." Al giggles, pulling away to pinch his mama's cheeks.
Ginny scans the horizon. There's nothing in that blanket of leaves and bushes and trees, but for a moment, Ginny's eyes begin to play tricks on her. She knows it's nothing, but can't help but see a blurry shadow lurking out of one tree trunk and slowly melding back into the outline.
But she is a mother and she has to show she's brave. She is brave. She's been through worse. Isn't this whole trip to teach her and Harry's children to face the past?
The two of them walk towards the edge of the clearing, Ginny balancing Al on her hip. When Al sees the forest, his smile fades and he clings to her like a velcro patch.
"Someone once told me that the best way to face your fears was to look them straight in the eye. You know who said that?" Ginny says.
"Who?"
"Uncle George."
Al frowned. "No."
"Oh yes, he did." Ginny squeezes Al, pulling him in so close her lips touch his soft little cheek. "If you get scared, mama will be here to save you."
Al squirms in her hands as Ginny crosses the threshold of the forest. The trees do not swallow them, they part for the pair. Sunlight dances on Al's arm as Ginny steps over tree roots and fallen branches.
"Look Al, a tit." Ginny points to the tiny bird. Al opens a squinted eye but does not turn his head. The tit twitches and then hops on a nearby branch, climbing to the sky as though on a staircase.
"I don't see the Black Bear. Do you?" Ginny continues deeper into the greenery. "Maybe he's scared of us, so he's gone."
"Black Bear isn't scared of anyone."
As though to support him, the tree trunks groan and tip back and forth like drunks. Ginny holds Al closer.
"Albus Severus, you were named after two of the bravest wizards your daddy's ever known. Has he told you the story?"
"No," Al whispers, but perks up. Ginny knows he can't resist a good tale.
"Albus Dumbledore was the most important wizard at mine and daddy's school. He was scared of a lot of things, but he always made sure every one of his students was safe. He fought with some of the scariest wizards of all time."
Ginny knows this isn't exactly true, but Al doesn't have to know about Albus Dumbledore's flaws. He'll find those out when he's older and (hopefully) much wiser.
"And Severus Snape-"
Ginny says his name and instantly regrets bringing up this entire analogy. Mission failed from the start. Ginny can't exactly tell her five-year-old son that he was named after a man who had helped Lord Voldemort kill hundreds of wizards, had been rude and condescending to his father when he was a young and impressionable orphan and had eventually died a slow and horrible death hated by everyone. Yes, Snape was certainly a brave man though his loyalties appeared to belong to the side of evil. It was only after his death that Ginny discovered that he had been trying to help wizard kind all along. Was the analogy she was going for supposed to be to tell Al that his success will only matter after he is dead?
A rustle in the bushes catches Ginny's attention. Then, the forest grows quiet, as though the mere thought of Severus Snape had summoned something haunted. Al clings onto her neck tighter, so tight she can barely breathe. She loosens his hands and takes a deep breath of cold forest air. The birds are gone and the grass seems wetter against the sliver of skin between her socks and jeans.
"Mama, mama." Al whimpers softly but doesn't make a fuss.
Then she sees it. A figure, dark and bold stands in the sunlit clearing. Ginny squints her eyes to make out the shape of a man. She steps back, hugging her son close.
The figure stands still, but its hands lift slightly in the air as though they're knitting invisible threads. Ginny doesn't need to stay any longer to find out if this is a friend or foe. She's already got her wand at the ready, pointing towards the shifting shape. She debates between putting Al down or telling him to run back while she fends off the potential threat or to stay still and see if the figure is friendly and approachable. Ginny knows some about forests and their dwellers from her walks through the Forbidden Forest near her old school. Not all creatures who wander there are friendly.
Again, she doesn't need to stir up Al's fears any more than she already has by bringing him here. What had Ginny hoped to accomplish?
One step at a time, she backs away from the clearing and away from the figure. She keeps her steps light, rustling her toes in the grass behind her before setting down her foot. The low grasses and mosses make for a soft landing and Al has buried his face in her shoulder.
Suddenly, something gives and the crack under Ginny's shoe sends her bolting back toward the entrance of the forest. She really can't take any chances. Dropping Al on the ground, she tells him to find 'daddy'. Al runs off towards the graveyard, and as soon as he's standing beside James and Harry, Ginny returns to the forest, wand in hand. If there's anything dangerous there, she needs to ward it off, protecting her family. She could call Harry, but she doesn't want to stir up panic where there is none. Besides, Ginny is certain the figure is just a figment of her imagination.
Her breath stands like a lump in her throat. The birds have left now and the little insects no longer chirp in the greenery. The black figure is there, still with his back turned to her and still in a trance.
"Hello?" Ginny crouches down, watching intently for any signs of danger.
Then, he turns.
"Professor...Snape?"
He's looking in her direction, but his usual haunting black eyes are empty and devoid of any emotion. Ginny is not sure he can recognize her. As he walks, his feet leave no imprint in the mud and no bend in the grass. That's when Ginny realizes that it's not really Snape and relaxes her stance.
There is an aura around him that sends a shiver up Ginny's arms. She's never taken to liking Professor Snape. In fact, she's hated him for an entire school year when she thought him responsible for killing the beloved Headmaster Dumbledore and taking his position. Now, he does not seem worthy of any hate. Not worthy of any love either. It's not a pleasant thought, to feel nothing for a man who'd given his life away to save hers, but it's the honest truth.
Ginny's always wondered why Harry suddenly developed so much compassion for Snape. She never questioned his choice to continue cleaning his grave, but she's never fully approved of it either.
Slowly, she walks up to the man. Where warmth and scent should have been, there is none; being beside Snape does not feel like standing next to a living, breathing human being. Ginny watches as he walks through the field, lips moving as though he's talking to himself like a senile grandfather. He crouches and grasps at a fern, but his hand goes through the plant, barely rustling its leaves. Snape does not give up. He places his hand inside his robe pocket, dropping the invisible ingredient in and patting his robe flat against his chest.
It's pitiful what he's become. A once powerful wizard, a brilliant thinker and dangerous man now not able to pick a fern off the ground.
Ginny leans down and yanks the plant up by the root. Sage. Ginny extends her hand to her former professor.
"Here."
Snape looks at her blankly. He hesitates, but reaches for the offering, his hand floating through hers.
"Oh, I guess you really can't take it with you then," Ginny says.
Snape shakes his head. Solemnly, empty-handed, he drifts back into the clearing and then his form fades into the shadows of far-off trees. Ginny clutches the sage and watches his figure grow smaller with every passing second.
"Ginny!" She jerks back, heart pounding, to see her husband standing there. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes." Ginny looks for Snape, but his figure is gone.
"Then who are you looking for? What's in there?"
"The Black Bear," Ginny says, smiling. Harry lowers his wand.
"Merlin. I thought someone had- never mind."
"No, nothing at all." Ginny kisses his cheek and leans against his shoulder. Together they walk back to the graveyard where James and Al are kicking an old can against a tree trunk. They don't see her now.
Ginny kneels down before Severus Snape's grave and places the sage leaf on the stone. It sits there, leaves shaking in the breeze. Ginny smells her fingers, before rubbing them against the nape of her neck. She wonders if the scent will stay.
"Goodbye professor," she whispers to the engraved letters. "Sorry for-"
She shakes her head. Sorry for what? For not caring enough? For not being able to help him? For allowing her husband to name their son after him, yet having nothing pleasant to say in his memory?
"I guess what I mean to say is...thank you," she says. For now, that seems enough.
Before they Apparate home, Ginny picks up Al and holds him close to her chest. He's holding two wildflowers that he happily presents her with.
"Thank you," Ginny says, tucking them behind her ear.
It doesn't really matter who he was named after. His name is his own and he will make it mean whatever he pleases during his life, which Ginny hopes will be long and very happy.
