Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, not to me. I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE--MUSINGS & CONVERSATIONS

XIII: Albus and Severus

As soon as the door closed behind the constable, Snape took off his spell. "I think you convinced him, Albus," he commented. "For a Muggle, he seemed straightforward, honest and intelligent."

"I think I did, too," Dumbledore replied, taking off his own Glamour. "He is more concerned by events here in his own jurisdiction than about dead men and gangs elsewhere." His expression turned to concern. "What happened up there?"

"Lupin is comforting Potter, and trying to get him to let go a bit; I took his signal to leave them in privacy. Potter is too proud to break down in front of me, and he would have done just that in another couple of minutes; better that he do so in private. I decided to come in here and be on hand if you needed me."

"So, what is your assessment of the situation, so far?" Dumbledore asked him.

Snape looked around. "Albus, this is the most...sterile...place I could imagine for someone like Potter to live in. No wonder he takes to the Weasleys so much; they are totally opposite to this." He strode toward the fireplace, examining the pictures and trinkets. "Even one of the other constables noted the lack of pictures of Potter, where the Dursley boy's progress is enshrined. I think the Dursleys are going to be in for some severe reputation loss with their neighbors, and all of it will be totally deserved. Now that I have seen and heard Petunia Dursley, I agree with Lupin: she could not be less like Lily if she tried; her husband is worse, and his sister is another bully." A thought struck him; he turned toward the staircase, and opened the cupboard underneath. He looked inside, and froze. "Albus, I saw this cupboard in his memories during the Occlumency lessons. This was his bedroom as a small child!" He then closed the cupboard, turned, and began slowly pacing the room, in front of the couch where Dumbledore was sitting.

"Albus, right now, even if Lupin can get him to release a little, Potter is in far too volatile a state to be left here; as close range as I was, I could feel him desperately keeping control of his temper and his magic. It was far closer than I would have liked as it was, and there were too many people in the room for me to cast a decent Calming Charm on him discreetly. Those people, when they return, are going to blame everything on him—and then it is likely that all of them, Potter included, are going to end up dead, when he blows up the house and half the neighborhood. Or, if he survives, he will be adding to his already horrific load of unwarranted guilt, in regard to people who deserve no regrets at all." Snape gave a short laugh, and continued, more sarcastically. "And wouldn't that be a lovely headline for the Prophet: 'Boy-Who-Lived Blows Up His Own Muggle Family'. Fudge and the Dark Lord would both be laughing themselves sick, and so would the Malfoys."

He stopped his pacing in front of the older man, and spoke in a more moderate tone. "Albus, I was skeptical of your faith in the boy's power. I thought the most he might be was a peer for Lily, who would have been a great apprentice for Flitwick had things been different. I see that I was wrong in that, as well as all else in which I have been wrong about him. He does have great power—and has been slowly gaining control of it. Now, his controls are almost gone. I have been telling him for a long time that he wears his heart on his sleeve and he is too controlled by his emotions. This is part of why his letter so shocked me: that he was showing that he could force down his feelings under strict control, and free his mind to intelligently deal with all the other matters. But now I see his actions are claiming a price, which he has not the experience to foresee, or else thought he could fight through: he is having to control too much, too soon, and he is underestimating the strength of that which he is holding in—not only all the recent pain, but everything that has been festering for years, and that was brought out painfully anew by today's events." He did not notice that his voice had slipped into the classroom lecture tone. "Now, he could have dealt with all that we did today, barely, if not for this other mess; the family had heeded the Order's warning and was pretty much ignoring him, which at least is better than active spite. But he was not ready for this upset on top of all the rest; two of his worst temper triggers are insults to his parents and to Black, and he heard more than he should of those today. He badly needs a respite, so that he can get his control back, and have a place to vent safely; the Dursleys will give him none, and they will compound the problem."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I regret that I must agree with you. This is what I had sincerely hoped would not happen: that the hazard to him from staying here would outweigh the near-absolute safety provided by the Blood Charm. We will have to take him, and today; it will have to be to Hogwarts, as the Burrow is both too obvious and not safe enough yet and Headquarters will be too much for him for a few days at least. Arabella's place is too close to the Dursleys, and there are also now all the other neighbors to make comments and harass him, now that the lies are exposed. There is also the Head of House meeting tomorrow, and both you and I must be there. I also want Poppy to look him over; I want to be certain his physical health has not been endangered."

Snape nodded in return. "I agree. I also think that the Order should not yet know about this; apart from the obvious security concerns, Molly will want to smother him, and he truly doesn't need that yet. The fewer who know about this, the safer he will be, and for now that also includes his friends. Shall we take him first, or wait for the Dursleys to return? I think that merely leaving a note for them is not enough." A slow smile appeared on the man—the cold smile that had unnerved several generations of Potions students. "Are you certain that you don't want them to see me?" he almost purred.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a bit at the thought of the Dursleys getting the pointed end of Snape's intimidating glares and sharp tongue. "If they do, I will have to Obliviate them somewhat, for your safety as well as theirs. But it might be an idea; you do have a way about you. In any case, I will have to deal with them now anyway to force the custody issue. They have made it abundantly clear that they do not want Harry; I think it is time to grant them that wish." Dumbledore looked toward the stairs. "I should go up and see how Remus and Harry are doing; you wait down here and let me know when the Dursleys return. I want Harry to be a little calmer before you go up; it took him all he had to deal with you as he has, and he fears to lose your respect now that he has finally gotten some of it."

He looked back up at Snape, and his blue eyes softened; he then stood, and laid both hands on the younger man's shoulders. "Severus, my dear and cherished friend, you have no idea how immensely proud of you I am—for being willing to accept that you were wrong about Harry, for dropping the old feuds, for working with us without needless friction, and for all the support you have given Harry and the rest of us today. This has been very hard on you, and the worst has not yet come; yet your actions of these last few days have given me hope that we can weather all this together." He gently squeezed the tense shoulders, trying to convey some comfort to the one Order member who needed it the most and got the least.

Snape reached up his hands and returned the gesture. "You may credit Potter with some of it; his letter crystallized misgivings I did not know I had, and helped me see things more clearly. The one theme I see in both of his letters is a desperate desire not to waste more time, and perpetuating the old quarrels did just that, to our detriment and the Dark Lord's benefit." He met the old man's kind eyes. "Albus, I did some serious thinking before I went to Lupin, and more after we talked Friday and yesterday. It has now come to this."

He dropped his hands, slipped out from under Dumbledore's, turned and paced slowly away, staring at the floor. "I already know what I am—a bond-slave to Tom Riddle. That slavery can only truly end in one way: death, either his or mine. For the last seventeen years, I have accepted the probability of the latter if I could help bring about the former. I do not expect to be alive when that happens. Now, matters seem to have come to a pass that there may be a small chance of total victory soon: if we but find the correct battleground, bait it temptingly, lure the Dark Lord in, and help Potter to do what he must—and what he now wants to do so badly—all while we keep the rest of the enemy off him, and avoid mutual total slaughter. The bickering and fighting within the Order is hampering us even more than the drain of the tension with the Ministry; and I am one of the worst offenders." He then stopped and turned to face Dumbledore. "So, these are my choices: either I must take my oath to the Order seriously, and give you—and Potter, now that I know the truth--my entire and unstinting support, with all my resources, although within the limits of the role I must play; or I might as well ask you what my final mission is to be, and carry it out. Either way, I expect to die; but I would prefer to accomplish as much as possible first." He didn't mention the third choice, because returning to his Dark Master and betraying the Order was not acceptable. Turning away from Dumbledore, he began pacing again.

"In order to do that, I must try to break decades of habit; it has so far been somewhat easier than I expected, but I do not expect that to continue. Dealing with the world with bitterness has always been easier than admitting that I was envious of those happier than I." He stopped pacing and turned back to Dumbledore. "Do not expect substantial changes in the school term; that is part of my role, until I am discovered. But in private, in Order meetings and in the secret training I will have to be doing with Potter and his friends, I will try not to be needlessly harsh. I have always had high expectations, and tend to be impatient with those who cannot meet them. I cannot guarantee that I will succeed, but I will try." He bowed his head and closed his eyes, still standing in the middle of the floor. "I refuse to have hope for myself any more. But I will not deny it to others through failure to do my part. If Potter can own up to his responsibilities, then so must I."

Dumbledore also closed his eyes; he felt the prickle of tears. This was the most heartfelt admission he had heard in a long time from this deeply proud and tormented man, who had not allowed himself to be so vulnerable in many years—in fact, not since the night, years before, when he had thrown himself on his Headmaster's mercy. It gave him renewed hope: not only for the achievement of their shared goal, but also for a possible future afterwards. He strode over to where the other man was and hugged him fiercely. "Don't ask for a last mission, my friend. I need you too badly for that, and you still have so much to teach us." The embrace was returned silently, and the two men stood there for a minute sharing comfort. When they broke apart, both felt better able to deal with their respective burdens.