4. At First Sight

Sir Nicholas was muttering under his breath, staring morosely and unseeing out in front of him as he floated up through the trapdoor.

"... don't fulfil their requirements... half an inch, if that. Hello, Severus."

"Hello, Nicholas. What's wrong?"

The other ghost waved a letter in the air angrily. There was a bitter look on his face that Severus was not used to seeing and that he didn't think suited the otherwise lively and friendly ghost.

"I have received a reply to my application for the Headless Hunt. From Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore himself." The sarcasm dripped from his words. "Here," he shoved the creased letter into Severus' hands. "Read this. Apparently I 'don't fulfil their requirements'. Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my head on, Severus. Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh no, it's not good enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore."

Severus quickly scanned the letter as Sir Nicholas continued his rant.

"But you would think, wouldn't you, that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt? I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly. I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule."

Severus made commiserating noises and handed the letter back. He had heard this story before, and he mused that it was Sir Nicholas' way of dealing with the injustice done to him. As ghosts, they were both trapped in the past, in their deaths, and unable to move on. He had encouraged his friend to apply for the Headless Hunt, hoping this would help ease Sir Nicholas' pain, but that had obviously been a stupid idea by the look of how upset the other ghost was now.

"The bastards. I'm so sorry."

Sir Nicholas sighed and then stuffed the crumpled letter away.

"It's not your fault, Severus. At least I tried. After nearly five centuries, what kind of a Gryffindor was I to never have tried." His face suddenly brightened up. "Oh. I nearly forgot. You know it's my five hundredth Death Day this Hallowe'en?"

Severus nodded. They had been talking about it for what seemed like years now, discussing Sir Nicholas' plans. Even if he could not attend, Severus was happy to help his friend with the preparations. It was the least he could do in return for Sir Nicholas' time and companionship. It was also another welcome distraction from his own pitiful existence.

"Well, I didn't want to raise your hopes before, and it took me quite a while before I could convince him, but the headmaster has agreed that you can attend the party." The triumph Sir Nicholas felt was evident on his face and in his voice, and it took a moment for what the other ghost had just said to sink in.

"I can go to your Death Day celebration? At Hogwarts?"

Sir Nicholas nodded. "Yes." A slight shadow passed over his face. "But there are a number of conditions." He frowned.

"I guaranteed the headmaster a simple promise on your behalf would be sufficient: I know your word can be trusted, Severus," he said gravely, and Severus felt slightly uncomfortable under Sir Nicholas' solemn and trusting gaze. "But he would only agree to let you attend on the condition that you were put under a geas not to mention – or answer any questions about – your death or your present situation. He has informed the other ghosts of your presence here, but you are not to reveal your identity to them. He told them you died in an accident that bound you to the Shack." Sir Nicholas didn't bother to contain his disdain for this outright lie.

While Severus did not relish the thought of being subjected to yet another spell by Hogwarts' headmaster, he was so desperate to leave his prison for even just one night that he would have agreed to nearly anything. Besides, the fact that Sir Nicholas had gone to all this trouble just so he could attend was reason enough to do whatever it was Albus Dumbledore required.

"It's all right. Tell him I agree."

Sir Nicholas' smile returned and he clapped Severus on the back.

"Capital. This is going to be the best Death Day party ever."

Hallowe'en afternoon, Dumbledore came to the Shack. Severus had known it would happen: that he would see the headmaster again. Nevertheless, he was not prepared for the hatred he felt, and despite his firm resolution not to break down in front of Dumbledore, he lost control three times in a row before he could calm himself sufficiently to stop reliving his death.

Dumbledore didn't blink an eye. He didn't apologise for the last seventeen years of isolation and confinement. He just calmly waited until Severus collected himself before explaining the terms of Severus' 'parole'. The geas would prevent him from speaking about his death, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, the Shrieking Shack, and anything else that might reveal the headmaster's dirty little secret. There was an additional spell that would prevent any of the ghosts – except for Sir Nicholas of course – from recognising him as the missing Slytherin. Dumbledore would take him to the dungeons himself, and a timed spell would transport him back to the Shack at midnight precisely.

Severus snorted at the headmaster's 'sense of humour', but said nothing. He did not want to risk Dumbledore changing his mind. He would submit to the geas and to the spells. He would submit to anything to escape this hellhole, even if it was only for a few hours.

Dumbledore cast the spells, and Severus could feel them binding him. A mental prison, not just a physical one: one for his mind instead of his body. He thought of Black, of his death, and it was as if a noose tightened around his throat, making him realise that not only could he not speak of his death, he could not relive it either.

However, then Dumbledore lifted the trapdoor and descended into the passageway to the Whomping Willow. He held it open for Severus to follow him, and Severus determined not to think about it. It would only be for one too short, and now it seemed too long as well, night.

Hogwarts was the same as Severus remembered it. It was as if nothing had changed, as if seventeen years had not passed. Severus distractedly followed the headmaster over the grounds and into the castle, through deserted corridors to the dungeons. This small taste of freedom only revived an ache and longing inside Severus that he had fought for seventeen years to suppress: to escape his prison and be free. He bit his lip and determined not to think about the fact that he had precious few hours to savour this freedom before he would be returned to his own personal hell.

There were already a few ghosts present, watching the House Elves set up the buffet of decaying food and rotting meat. Sir Nicholas enthusiastically greeted Severus, while coolly accepting the headmaster's congratulations for his five hundredth Death Day.

Severus was glad to see Dumbledore leave, and he helped Sir Nicholas with the last of the preparations. Then one by one the other ghosts began to arrive. Some Severus recognised from his schooldays – not one of them recognised him, not even the Bloody Baron – some he recognised from Sir Nicholas' stories. Sir Nicholas introduced him to each of the new arrivals as his 'friend Severus Snape', and they nodded politely and then turned away. He wondered if it was another one of Dumbledore's spells. Was it not enough that none of the other ghosts would recognise him, didn't Dumbledore want them to socialise with him either? But then again, Severus' lack of social skills had haunted him through his living days already, and he was still surprised that Sir Nicholas would want to spend time with him.

Whatever the case, it didn't matter anyway. He was out of the Shack, even if only for the evening, and his friend was obviously having a wonderful time. Sir Nicholas was mournfully greeting his guests, and Severus stayed hovering nearby, watching the other ghosts interact. Sometime later there was a disturbance, and he saw the ghost of a plain girl rushing past, moaning and wailing, as Peeves pursued her calling her rude names. She was the first ghost who appeared to be somewhere near his age – both in regard to ghost years and their age at death – and he was sufficiently distracted that he lost sight of Sir Nicholas for a moment. When he found his friend again, he was surprised to see him with three live students.

Two boys and a girl. He saw the girl and the redhead first – a Weasley by his looks – and then he saw the other boy. A messy mop of black hair and ugly round glasses. For a moment, he was transported back to the past, to memories of a face like that laughing at him, but those memories vanished at the sight of bright green eyes. Severus could only stare, and for the life of him, he could not think why. Sir Nicholas was talking to the three students, but Severus paid their conversation no heed. The orchestra had stopped playing, and Severus did not notice. The boy was looking around now, and their eyes met. For the first time that evening, Severus felt as if someone other than Sir Nicholas had actually seen him.

The moment ended, the boy looked away, and only then did Severus finally notice the disturbance, notice his friend's bitter resignation. A group of horsemen had just come riding through one of the dungeon walls, and he heard Sir Nicholas mutter, 'Oh, here we go.' A boisterous ghost who had been blowing a horn – his head in the crook of his arm – made a show of looking around the room with the loose appendage, much to everybody's amusement. A sneer found its way quickly to Severus' lips, and he glared at the ghost now striding toward Sir Nicholas.

"Nick," he bawled. "Head still hanging in there?"

Why Sir Nicholas deigned to answer the bore was beyond Severus, especially considering the fact that the prat immediately turned his attention to the three students and proceeded to make a fool of himself. Severus was happily surprised to see that the boy tried to defend Sir Nicholas, even if he was hardly able to get a word in.

Severus had been distracted again; Sir Nicholas was striding toward the podium trying in vain to get everybody's attention for his speech. Severus hesitated for a moment – not wanting to leave the boy without getting a chance to talk to him – but in the end loyalty won out and he went to console a desolate Sir Nicholas. The Headless Hunt had taken over the celebration.

Sir Nicholas sat on the dais, morosely staring at Podmore and his fellows as they entertained the guests. Severus tried to spot the boy and his two companions within the crowd, but they must have left during the confusion.

"Nicholas, who was that boy: the one with the green eyes?"

"You mean Harry Potter?"
"That was James Potter's son?" he should have known, should have made the connection, but he had been distracted by those green eyes.

Sir Nicholas nodded and cheered up a little. "Yes. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. At least he was invited and didn't try to take over my party," he glared half-heartedly at the Headless Hunt.

"Don't mind them, Nicholas. They're bastards; you're worth ten of Podmore."

The other ghost smiled. "You're a good and loyal friend, Severus. You would have made a fine Gryffindor."

Severus bristled at the insult, and then realised that it was a compliment, but not one he would have ever expected to receive. "I guess it comes from hanging around with you," he muttered, and Sir Nicholas laughed and clapped him heartily on the back.

"Let's get out of here. This is a lost cause. I know I promised Dumbledore that you'd stay here, but what the headmaster doesn't know..."

"Why, Nicholas. What a positively Slytherin thought."

"I know. The shame. Seriously, though, you have been locked in that dreadful place for nearly two decades now; we should make the most of the rest of the evening. You had enough time in the dungeons when you were a student. Let us walk around the school. As long as we take care nobody sees us, and with that dreadful geas Dumbledore put you under, we should be fine."

Sir Nicholas guided him around the school, even through the Gryffindor common room, until they stood on top of the Astronomy Tower. They could see the Forbidden Forest, Hogsmeade, and the Shrieking Shack, and Severus wished he didn't have to go back. However, the clock struck twelve, and the two ghosts shook hands before Severus was mercilessly transported back to his prison. Severus was relieved that at least the geas was lifted immediately upon his return.

Not wanting to think about his sorry condition, Severus drifted through the Shack. He contemplated those green eyes instead, and wondered at his sudden fascination with this Harry Potter.