Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and her assorted publishers, not to me; I'm not making money off this.
Spoilers: All five HP novels.
PRELUDE TO WAR—MUSINGS & LETTERS
IV: Severus and Harry (Friday noon to afternoon, 5 July 1996)
Professor Severus Snape was in his dungeon workshop, working on Remus Lupin's next Wolfsbane Potion. He had actually come to a pause in the work, where the ingredients must simmer for a while in the cauldron, when a flash of flame announced the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes. A letter was clutched in the bird's claws.
"Well, for once you didn't interrupt anything, though why he can't send things through the internal Floo or with a House-Elf is beyond me," Snape commented as he took the scroll. Fawkes trilled a few notes, and vanished, holding Snape's hurriedly scribbled acknowledgment.
Snape checked his timer, and decided he had time for a cup of tea with the letter. When that was ready, he settled down into his favorite reading chair and opened the letter.
The tea went cold in the cup as he read, and then reread, a rather disturbing letter from one of his least favorite people.
Dear Professor Snape:
I have several matters for you to consider, upon which I have thought a great deal; all I ask at this time is that you read my entire letter at least once before you burn it.
First: I most sincerely apologize for violating your privacy last year by looking into your Pensieve. I have not told anyone about it, except to ask Remus and Sirius for an explanation of the incident afterwards. I was not satisfied by the explanation, and believe that James and Sirius were in the wrong, as was Remus for not stopping it. The whole incident reminded me too much of how I was treated by my cousin and his friends—and I despise bullying, no matter who is doing it, and no matter who is the victim. I don't know if they ever apologized for it; but whether they did or not, now that they are both gone, I will now do so on their behalf. As for my own actions, I can only say that I was desperate to see anything of my parents—even in the memories of someone who despised them. It's still no excuse for what I did, and you didn't deserve me doing it to you. As far as I'm concerned, your anger was fully justified. For all of that, I repeat that I'm sincerely sorry, and I will not do it again. It isn't nearly enough, it can't change any of what happened, and I'm not asking forgiveness for any of us; but it should be acknowledged by both of us who are still here, and then put aside for now, so that we can both move on to more important issues.
Second: A related matter is the life-debt you owed my father over the incident with Remus at school. As his only heir, I formally acknowledge the several times you either saved my life (as in First Year), or risked your own to protect me. As far as I'm concerned, the debt is paid, with interest (actually, I probably owe you instead by now), and no more need be said about it. If you need a formal ritual for this, let me know; Wizarding customs I'm still learning as I go. Again, we both need to move on. How you and Remus deal with this history is between you two; but I really wish the two of you could get to the point of being able to work together for the Order without so much friction, as we all must at this time.
Third: I most respectfully request that we restart the Occlumency lessons, under whatever pretext we can devise. I have come to realize that too many lives depend on it, yours not the least. At least three of those who went with me to the Ministry know what you are, and will also need training; but they are not as directly vulnerable as I am, and the Headmaster is not as much at risk from them. I fear to risk your life to my connection with Riddle (I refuse to use any of the silly names for him any more, including his own), but I can't see any other way to manage it. I will make a more sincere effort to learn this, now that I have finally been told why I am at all important to the war effort other than as a symbol. As I cannot leave here for at least another two to three weeks, I ask you to recommend some books on the subject, so that I have a better idea of what we were trying to do. I can order them by Owl Post through the Headmaster and Mrs. Figg. I can read and study, even if I cannot do any magic, and I have been trying to clear my mind at night. I find that is becoming easier since I wrote to the Headmaster and cleared up a few matters; maybe if I can figure out how to deal with events, the emotions can be better dealt with. (For that matter, writing this letter is helping.)
Fourth: You are the resident Order and Hogwarts expert on the Dark Arts and on Riddle. If I give you a Pensieve memory of Riddle's revival ritual, can you help me—or Hermione, who is MUCH better—research how to counter it? (This may also help me with the nightmares that I still have of it.) I know that a potion of some sort was involved, and that is your primary expertise. If you know why I am involved at all, then you know why I want to know. If not, ask the Headmaster; it's not my place to tell you. I have an idea about that, and I want to know if it is viable.
Last: I can't afford pride any more; I have a mission to fulfill, and I may only have one good chance. I cannot do it alone; I need help, yours especially. I'm not asking you to like me; I'm asking you to help me to achieve the same goal toward which you are working. I know that half of the treatment you gave me in class was to please certain factions; the other half was the personal irritation of me looking like James. If I make it into your NEWT class, I will accept the former as necessary if you will try to hold back on the latter. In return, I promise to make a far better effort to succeed in class. I'm not as gifted as apparently my parents were, and I didn't grow up in the Wizarding world knowing the things Wizard-borns take as given; I have to work for it, and I promise to work harder this time. (I just hope the class is small enough that no one can sabotage each other's potions, or else I may start using shielding charms.) I will also try and treat you as respectfully as you do me. I don't like you either, but I can work with you in a civil manner, if you would please not provoke me more than is needed. I know I need to learn to rein in my temper, and the fewer provocations, the better.
I also make a solemn promise to put maximum effort into what I ultimately will have to do; I have too much to lose by failure. I also don't think we have much time left; I don't know why this is so, as I have no real gift for Divination, but that's what my gut feelings are saying—the ones that I ought to listen to more often before I dive into trouble. I am willing to pay whatever price I have to. Others have paid far too much for me; it's my turn to pay them back with my best efforts. Please help me. If my own sake or even the cause are not good enough for you, then please remember: I'm my mother's son as well as my father's, and while you hated him, I have never heard you say a single bad word about her (I don't count you insulting her in that incident). Please don't let me waste what she did.
Sincerely yours,
Harry PotterSnape reread the letter for the third time. Absently casting a Warming Charm on his now stone-cold tea, he sipped it while he pondered. This doesn't make sense. When did Potter acquire a brain (and without Granger's help—she was the brains of that bunch) and good sense? When had he learned to write so intelligently? His essays should be so well written! And how on earth is he writing anything this personal so coherently (and so bluntly), so soon after Black's death, and to me? I'm certain the boy blames me in part for it; damn the mutt for not staying put!
The entire letter bothered him. This wasn't the Potter he was familiar with at all. And for that matter, the events in the Ministry had barely even been mentioned, and that was disturbing, too; he expected Potter to still be in the depths of the depression and anger he saw at the end of the school year. It just didn't add up, and the more he thought about it, the uneasier it made him.
Finally deciding to act, he did. Tucking the letter into his pocket, he fire-called the Headmaster.
"Albus, I'm going over to Headquarters for a while. Is there anything you need while I'm there?"
"Yes," the older man replied. "See if the Black library has any Dark Arts books that may touch on Tom's revival ritual. I have only found mentions in the books here, and nothing actually about it. I only have Harry's verbal account of it, and I'm sure that isn't all of it; Harry hasn't the expertise to know what he may have seen and not noticed."
Snape allowed himself a small smile. "I think there are books on that subject at the Riddle House, but I rather doubt that the Dark Lord would understand if I borrowed them," he said wryly. "After all, it had to come from somewhere." He decided to hold off mentioning Potter's rather astonishing offer for the moment, although he would need to speak in more detail about that to Albus, and soon.
The Headmaster returned the smile with one of his own. "Actually, he might understand too well, if you get my drift. It's probably best not to push matters there. Anyway, do let me know when you get back; I think there are some things we need to discuss. Oh—I think I will want to call the House Heads for a meeting early next week, probably Monday; I'm noting down some ideas I would like all your thoughts on."
"This early? We usually don't meet until two weeks prior to term, and that's well over a month away."
"Yes. These are not usual times, Severus, and the usual routine will not now suffice. Go, then, my friend, and be well." With that cryptic reply, Dumbledore's head vanished from the fire.