Albus Dumbledore

After Cornelius Fudge had left his office Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had problems keeping his mind on the less exciting, but nonetheless equally important matters of the daily school life again. Too many things demanded his attention at the moment. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures was hunting another Nundu somewhere at the Ivory Coast, needing powerful wizards to assist, as no less than one hundred of them were needed to overcome such a creature. The Department of Mysteries had made yet another breath-taking discovery, and to make things perfect, Fudge seemed perfectly incapable of filling the position he, Albus, had refused to take, in favour of the Headmaster's position at Hogwarts just over a year ago. Indeed, this was the third time in a week that Cornelius had come to get advice on everyday matters and admittedly, it was getting tiring to have to explain certain things over and over again. Albus considered himself tired.

A glance at his grandfather's little watch told him that it was time to lay aside today's work anyway. It was past midnight again and he had not taken his usual stroll about the castle and its grounds yet.

'I am getting too old for this,' he told himself, 'maybe I should delegate those nightly security strolls to a member of the staff. A younger member, preferably.'

When he opened his door, however, and made his way through Hogwarts's deserted night time corridors, the reason why he had refused to move to the Ministry building and busy himself with tediously significant matters, and why he had decided to stay at Hogwarts that had become his home over the past seventy-something years, came back to him.

Everything was quiet. Albus sighed and with every breath took in the bliss that this castle caused inside him whenever he allowed himself to let his mind wander. This part of the castle was usually the most quiet, even during the day. Albus passed the hospital wing, not without glancing inside to see if he recognized one or the other face. With a sudden jolt of regret he realized that being headmaster meant, of course, losing quite a lot of the intimacy he had always shared with his students. They would soon stop coming to him for advice. He would soon lose his ability to guess their inner thoughts (without using his own... unusual ways). Soon, he would have to think before addressing a student, because, of course, he would be in danger of confusing them with one another.

A silent, almost imperceptible sob caught Albus's ear. He frowned, listened closely, and perceived another sob, just as quietly as the first. The empty room produced a faint echo of the child's weeping - a boy's, as Albus found out when he closed the door behind him and quietly drew nearer. A first- or second-year, by the sound of it. When the moonlight, penetrating the room through several of the big windows, met his face, making him visible for the tiny patient, the sobbing stopped abruptly. Severus Snape stared into Albus's face with unmistakable fear and distrust.

'I thought the enchantment we placed on our hospital beds would alert Madame Pomfrey if something was wrong,' Albus said in what he hoped to be a comforting voice.

'I told her to leave me alone,' the boy replied defiantly, 'so she left.'

'It is not usually that easy to get rid of her,' the headmaster replied with an impressed smile. 'Indeed, I cannot think of any single patient who ever succeeded at it. What did you say?'

He noticed Severus's pallid face flush slightly before answering, 'I told her to sod off and keep that muck she was trying to slip me.'

Albus raised his eyebrows. 'You did indeed?' He made a meaningful pause, surveying the boy over the brim of his half-moon spectacles. 'That was extremely rude.'

The boy's eyes narrowed. 'I know. So what? She made me take some second-rate concoction I wouldn't have given my worst enemy.'

'Perhaps,' Albus replied thoughtfully, 'a well-trained nurse, having a degree in healing potions and many years experience with diseases and injuries, knows a little bit more about these things than a bold young man such as yourself?' He watched Severus's expression and saw with some amusement that it was changing.

'Well,' said the boy vaguely, 'mo-mother told me to never drink anything containing aniseed, 'cause of my bad skin, see? So... so I don't.'

'I see,' Albus replied. 'And have you told Madame Pomfrey so?'

Severus shook his head. 'It is none of her business,' he said coolly and Albus could not help but smile again. The boy's face, on the other hand, was suddenly contorted with pain once more, though he did not utter a sound. Albus sat down on the edge of Severus's bed, whose eyes widened in alarm. He withdrew into the furthest corner and stared at the elderly headmaster with huge, glittering eyes, opening his mouth in what seemed pure horror.

Albus frowned. Surely the boy was not afraid of him? He raised his hand to calm him, but Severus jumped and whimpered, realizing that he wouldn't be able to escape through the solid castle wall. Albus withdrew his hand, feeling puzzled and very worried. How could such a small child possibly be terrified at the simple thought of being touched? He decided to make sure rather than making a mistake and broke carefully, as to not let him know, into the boy's mind.

Cautious Legilimency was a great deal more difficult than open mind-penetration. You hardly ever got a clear idea of what you saw, let alone an explanation. Floating images, and a bunch of emotions were the usual contents of a mind's surface. And that was all you could do - scrape on the surface. Because if you went any deeper, the person would notice the infiltration and wonder what was happening. Ask, even, and, in some cases, close their mind straight away, consciously or not.

Albus saw fear. Strictly speaking, he saw barely anything else. Severus Snape was the most frightened boy he had ever met. And for good reason, too. Albus took a closer look. Almost tempted to mutter the incantation that would bring him under the surface of Severus's thoughts, but he knew he would now.

'You have got a tummy-ache,' he remarked, well aware that his expression must be full of worry and sympathy, 'and a bad one at that. Perhaps you should take Madame Pomfrey's medicine after all?'

'I have,' Severus whispered. Albus saw the boy take out his wand, making the potion disappear as soon as the nurse had turned her back to him, and smiled.

'You are lying. Who taught you how to do the Vanishing Spell? They are not due until fourth grade.'

Severus gave him a blank stare. 'How -'

'Never mind. You can lie to me. I suppose every second-year would lie to their headmaster. It lies in the nature of things. But I would like to rid you of your pain.'

'I haven't-' Just at this moment, Severus drew in a sudden sharp breath and let out a suppressed whinge. Albus surveyed him through his half-moon spectacles and produced what he hoped was an understanding smile.

'Obviously you have. Hold still now, I am not going to hurt you.'

He outstretched his hand again, causing Severus to cramp and withdraw even further into his corner. His face was white with fear. Albus thought for a moment and, recalling that he was not going to do any harm after all, placed his hand squarely - though with great caution - at the boy's stomach, concentrating hard on an ancient piece of magic that was used to reverse all sorts of ill-meant curses. He moved his hand clockwise to enforce the spell's effect and Severus started to whimper in cold dread, obviously expecting something terrible to happen any second.

'Quiet!' Albus demanded gently. 'I told you this is not going to hurt. It is to make sure you catch a bit of sleep tonight. To make your pain vanish, really.'

Several minutes passed in silence. Albus repeated the curative movement over and over again and, sure enough, Severus started to respond. He became calmer, his face straightened, his breath went quiet and he closed his eyes. - He was sleeping at last.

Albus felt a strong fondness inside him. Fondness and sympathy for the small boy, who was now curling into the sheets of his hospital bed. What was it he was so mortally afraid of? Albus longed to have a closer look. Penetrating a sleeping person's mind was something he could have done in a heartbeat, but he knew that, having so much fear inside him, this would cause the boy to experience the worst nightmares. He therefore merely straightened the blanket over Severus' chest and left the hospital wing on tiptoes.