Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 2
When Snape stepped inside the Headmaster's Office, he found it empty and thrashed. A golden head of a wizard gleamed near the fireplace, a lunascope lay shattered right beside the blackened grates. Silver instruments, broken and twisted, lay scattered around the whole room. He noticed the spindle-legged table was missing as well. Looking about he found its broken legs amongst the debris. Tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes trilled from his tray of soft ashes, kept beneath its golden post. Most of the portraits were empty, but Former Headmistress and Healer of St. Mungo's Dilys Derwent was watching him expectantly.
Calling him over she whispered, "The portraits have gone to their older frames to mourn the death of their former colleague, Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black's great-great-grandson. Though several of the other portraits chose not to join. They have not forgiven Late Sirius Black for slashing up Fat Lady in the most unspeakable way."
Severus stood motionless but the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, giving Dilys the sign that the private man was as affected by the sudden turn of events as the rest of them.
"Much like you, I too can't bring myself to mourn. Never liked that boy, wild and aggressive. I heard it was a fierce fight, Bellatrix and Sirius, yes I can see that happen. They are similar, wild, reckless, and slightly insane. I had other reasons too, I couldn't forgive him for the things he did to you, my dear. Yes, you know very well, I can't take sides. the healer's profession forbids it. But still." Casting a thoughtful look around the messed up room, she spoke again, "It was getting a bit boring you know. Apart from the Sorting Hat no one spoke of unity, not even Albus. I would say, we needed someone like Dolores Umbridge to show us how divided we stood amongst ourselves. We needed this, Severus to finally unite at the face of true Evil."
Snape clenched his jaws and fisted his hands, then looking at the twinkling eyes of the Former Healer, who knew him well enough, he deadpanned, "I never liked the color pink, but she made sure I would hate it forever henceforth."
In spite of the gloomy ambiance, Dilys Derwent chuckled, shaking her silver ringlet curls, "Oh! Please! At least save your judgment on cats and kneazles, or we will end up hurting Minerva's sentiments. Do limit your animosity to Quidditch and in feeding the storm over the house cup."
Curling his lips, the Slytherin head of the house nodded, "if you so wish, Madam"
"You will be surprised to know, You are here because you will one day get to this place. But I am happier to note you succeeded in healing Miss Granger. And for that, we have your insatiable hunger for knowledge to thank. Yes, tonight we could have lost a lot more but losing her would be tragic indeed."
Granger's blood soaked body, her softest plea, the insights to her magnificent mind were still fresh. He dared not to close his eyes and gasp in response. Flicking his eyes around the room once again, knowing fully well, portraits had this habit of speaking endlessly, Severus asked, "Madam, forgive me if I don't find myself in the mood of exchanging pleasantries. Where can I find the Headmaster?"
Dilys smirked and then glowered, "The headmaster went to the Ministry to keep his promise of making Minister Fudge abreast with the situation at hand. But he instructed me to watch how either Mr. Lupin or you fared at achieving the task of healing Miss Granger. I know that was not an acceptable gesture from Albus…He couldn't spare much time with the poor girl, he needed to address Potter right away."
"Not at all, not at all, it is too difficult to find faults in such an esteemed leader." The sarcasm laced around his words was not lost to the former headmistress. After a pause, he mumbled, "I heard the students gave a good fight."
Growing emotional, Dilys dabbed her handkerchief over her eyes, "Those kids were beyond themselves when they were brought in. Bleeding noses, twisted ankles, slashed up and broken bones, wounded by brain tentacles, tossed around or hurled across shelves containing glass balls of prophecies like rag dolls! Oh dear, what a sight it was! I know I am getting out of practice! I don't recall seeing anything beyond adolescent pranks going wrong or potion accidents, or you know the usual school stuff, within these walls. I seldom spend long hours at St. Mungo's, the place has grown gloomy over the years, nothing new, exciting and challenging happens there. On the contrary, Hogwarts is bursting with new possibilities. And these kids just outdid themselves. They were so excited, sad yet exuberant. Such a medley of emotions. Everyone was high on adrenaline narrating over and over the whole thing. Even a few of the Order Members got carried away. You should have seen Poppy's face. Minerva for a couple of moments failed to quieten those babbling, bumbling baboons as she likes to call them."
"The deputy headmistress is back?" Snape asked incredulously.
"Oh! Yes, cussing under her breath, because she missed the action and glowering at her cubs for acting impulsively," Dilys chimed, "Imagine Miss Luna Lovegood dueling with none other than Lucius Malfoy! Oh, dear! I would have given anything to witness that fight. Those Frolicsome Feline Plates of dead kittens at Umbridge's flush pink office never allowed any of us to take a peep inside. But Mr. Longbottom, oh dear, though the boy sat shuddering with a blanket around, the rest went on thumping his back. Mr. Lupin And Mr. Moody assisted Albus in bringing back those kids. Alastar popped his magical eye back into the socket, mindful of his bleeding head as Poppy flustered around. It so happens Neville parlayed with none other than Bellatrix. Curioed by the witch yet stood his ground defending Potter! I would say, you were too hard on him."
Losing his patience, Snape snarled at the witch, his eyes burning in anger, "Was I? Was it acceptable for Alice and Frank Longbottom's son to snivel and stutter? Dilys, you have always asked what I expect from him? I expect him to avenge his parents." The potion master grunted and turned to face the window.
Heaving a long sigh, the old healer muttered, "He drops by during the holidays towing behind Augusta Longbottom, speaks to his comatose parents about his school adventures…"
"Dilys, isn't it rude to eavesdrop into someone's private conversations?" Snape interjected playfully, making an effort to apologize for losing his temper.
"Shush! All I am saying, the boy wishes for the same thing. I wonder if that same zeal had perhaps fueled him during his brush with Bellatrix," long-dead medi-witch murmured, then grew solemn at once, "Severus, we didn't just lose Sirius Black, but we witnessed the slaughter of innocence as well. Those kids will never enjoy themselves like the way they used to only months ago. The emotional trauma is too intense. This was their first exposure...and for Potter...well, last year, the boy had to watch late Mr. Cedric Diggory die and now his own godfather. Mr. Lupin once informed Albus, that Dementors get drawn towards Harry Potter because there are really horrors trapped inside his mind. But even by healer's perspective, how far a toddler can process his parents' murder is debatable."
Snape watched the sunlight creep into the room further, lighting up the whole place with the passing minutes. He pointedly chose not to comment on that. He was forced to visit those horrifying memories of Lily's lifeless body lying on the floor of the nursery and harry wailing from his crib right next to her on a daily basis. Dilys observed from her frame," I know you care for Miss Granger. She reminds me of you. Studying even when she is confined to her bed, sporting whiskers, pointy ears, cat eyes...that was a feat, to brew a perfect Polyjuice potion in 2nd year. She is a gifted witch but a sad kid behind that cheerful mousy face. The Ministry might as well stand safe today, but Dumbledore stood defeated in his own game of chess. Don't worry, the Potter boy has no love for you."
"So he knows?" Snape drawled, deftly skirting over the topic of Hermione Granger. If he could have it in his way, he could have stormed out of the Headmaster's office away from this conversation, saving himself from having to get tortured by listening about the two-third of the Golden Trio- as if they hadn't cost him his much-needed peace of mind for the last five years!
"Couldn't keep it quiet anymore. Potter thrashed this whole place in a nasty bout of anger. Dippet was livid, I personally think he should have done more damage. After the boy left, Albus sat crying on his chair. He blamed himself for everything. Before leaving for the ministry, he left this place as it is, whispering, 'I deserve this.' His hand doesn't look any better."
Snape turned at that and eyed the portrait with interest.
Dilys smirked and tutted, "How are you holding up? You look paler?"
"I have a lot to do before I can rest. You were saying something about Albus..."
Rolling her eyes, the medi-witch said hastily, "I told you enough. Expect Albus to call on you. And if he doesn't bring it up to you, make sure you ask about it as soon as you meet him."
Nodding thoughtfully, Severus informed, "I don't think I can visit St. Mungo's so often. It is no longer safe. I will also be preoccupied with other things."
"Yes, of course, I will inform Healer Astrid Norman that you won't be able to visit as frequently as you did. I am sure you will find other ways to send potions to the hospital. Well, then, why don't you go back to your private Lab? Phineas is there, crying to himself in the portrait of Ophelia. It was kind of you to allow both of us to access that painting. Once Albus comes back, I will inform him. And if it counts, Mr. Lupin has arrived at St. Mungo's with Madam Tonks. Nymphadora will be our guest for a while, as Astrid informed, Bellatrix showed no mercy for her niece. At least we should be thankful that snake wasn't there loitering while all this happened. Last time we got luck on our side. I still don't understand how the Potter boy saw it coming, Albus wasn't willing to share much with us," she shuddered in her frame, muttering, "The sight of Arthur Weasley barely breathing... on second thoughts, I don't wish to know how you got hold of the anti-venom, Severus."
When the man stared hard at the portrait as if warning her to say no more, the witch tilted her face and carried on adamantly, "No Severus, I have been both, a headmistress and a healer. I might have not played rough, throat-cutting politics in my life but I have seen enough. The Weasley family is indebted to you. Wish as much as to hide your caring nature behind that barking and biting facade but I am sure you weren't this calm and quiet when you stealthily milked the venom out of the snake."
Snape glowered at the old portrait and bit the insides of his cheek. Dilys Derwent had seen far into his solitary life through the last decade and a half. She often called him as her lost case mocking his lonely uneventful dismal existence. The witch had finally outdone it by roping in Phineas Nigellus Black into pushing and prodding the potion master.
After two years of tolerating their snide remarks, Snape had given them access to the portrait of Ophelia in his lab. It was Halloween night. Whole Magical Britain was rejoicing and celebrating the Fall of Voldemort, Dilys had mocked at Snape's selfish choice of drinking alone in his dungeons refusing to accompany the other teachers in the staff room floors above.
Snape had twisted his lips and offered his voice slurring, "By all means please feel free to join me in my personal lab. I always preferred to spend this day alone. This year I think I can tolerate the presence of two bickering portraits." Neither of the two had uttered a word. They had just looked back and forth between the woman floating in the water and the dour professor. Almost close to dawn, they had finally gone back to their frames hanging in the Headmaster's Office mumbling apologies.
The whole night long, Snape had stood inches away from the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. At times, he did fiddle with his cravat, tugging at the dark silk, with a distant look on his face. His hair was no longer hanging loose, instead, they were tied at the nape of his neck. the late witch and the wizard had visibly gulped at the sight. Severus might have been a man in his twenties back then, but he looked nothing like one. His vacant eyes, hollowed cheeks, sallow skin, and unwashed hair had made him look more like a person resigned to mourning for the rest of his life.
He had got drunk of course. Dilys had tutted at the rate in which the amber liquid vanished, steadily emptying the large bottle of firewhiskey sitting on the working desk behind. The burners and cauldrons were put away on their designated shelves around the room.
Speaking through clenched teeth, Snape confessed, "I had help, I didn't risk my neck. I know I need to stay alive until the last."
"That was all I wanted to confirm Severus. Even if I am just a set of memories of a long-dead woman, I care about you, more than you know." The woman replied sadly.
Giving the portrait a curt nod, Snape left the office at once.
Stepping down from the rotating stairways that led to the Headmaster's Office, Harry Potter had found Professor Minerva McGonagall waiting for him beside the statue of Gargoyle. The Scottish woman had stared hard at him through her square rimmed glasses and then guided him back to the Hospital Wing, muttering tersely, "Don't say a word Mr. Potter, or we will regret having a conversation altogether."
They had found Remus Lupin standing beside the closed door of the Infirmary looking exhausted and withdrawn. He had blinked hard when he noticed Harry but neither of them could say a word of consolation. The grief of losing Sirius so suddenly had rocked them to their core. Madam Pomphrey had opened the door a little and pulled Potter inside, shutting it close instantly.
Once alone, the former DADA professor had finally broken down. Steering him to one of the benches, the transfiguration professor rubbed his back in soft circles, as she allowed him to rest his wrecking body against her small frame. She muttered sniffing to herself, "Now, we got to stay strong Remus. The horrors these children were exposed to...on one hand, I am proud of them and on the other, I just don't know if I have ever been so frightened. I would have nearly hexed Potter...it is all my fault. If Albus was being so condescending, I should have been more strict in dealing with James and Sirius. At least Black would not have…
"Professor? Minerva, none of us blame you," Remus mumbled from her shoulders.
"Shush now! Of course, it is my fault, I was your head of the house, I should have acted accordingly. And now Harry is hell bent to walk down the same path, which is once again my fault." The old woman huffed.
"Your hands were tied back then as are they even now," then, staring at her sideways, he croaked, "last I heard, St. Mungo's was going to hold on to you till the end of the term. How did you manage to come to Hogwarts?" Remus looked up when the other stiffened.
His wet eyes widened as he muttered in awe," Did you bully those healers and returned to Hogwarts?"
Patting his back forcefully, Minerva, harrumphed," I might have just reminded them I am responsible for my feisty cubs and only I can control them from tearing magical Britain down in the absence of Great Albus Dumbledore. The last thing they wanted was a student's mutiny. And, tell me at once, are those three Potter, Weasley, and Granger behind this outrageously brilliant idea of forming the Dumbledore's Army? Because I don't believe Albus had planted that silly yet perfect idea in Potter's head, mobilize and motivate so many students volunteering from not just Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as well. Did you get to talk to Albus? How is He? Where was he all this while?"
Rubbing his hands over his face, the former student replied, "I did meet him but we were too busy trying to revive Miss Granger. We had nearly lost her, Minerva, but for Severus's timely intervention...About this 'outrageous Dumbledore's Army, I will tell you if you promise to confirm that you complimented Potter on calling Umbridge a liar on her face in front of an entire class…"
Professor McGonagall had tried to stay in the Infirmary, right beside the dying girl, until the Headmaster had asked her to escort Harry Potter after he had spoken to him and keep an eye on him instead. Without any preamble the Head of the Order of Pheonix had assured her, "We got this Minnie, trust me, Harry will need you more than ever. Why don't you go and wait with him at my office." But the transfiguration professor had halted near the Gargoyle Statue, unable to go up and meet the grieving boy. What could she offer him now when for the last several months all she had done was asking him to keep his head down and live through Umbridge's Regime! Pacing up and down the empty corridor the witch had worried herself into a knot.
The woman scuffed the werewolf and got up abruptly, "Now that you are back to yourself, I would suggest that you accompany Mr. and Mrs. Tonks to St. Mungo's. They are waiting at Poppy's office for some nitwit auror to escort them. Better you, than a stranger. I will give you a handful of moments to collect yourself."
She had nearly left when she turned and aimed her wand at his dishevelled clothes. Lupin had continued to stare at the retreating figure of the transfiguration professor until she slipped back into the Infirmary. Glad that he looked better, the werewolf ran his fingers through his chestnut hair and muttered, "She is Hogwarts' Molly Weasley, isn't she? Well, one needs to consider Madam Pomphrey as well. Scary Witches, those two."
Flooing back to his private office, Snape walked into his personal lab and found the former headmaster sitting on the bank of the painted river watching the floating figure of Ophelia blankly. The candles were burning in their sconces throwing eerie light over the tragic painting drawn by British artist Sir John Everett Millais, completed in 1851 and 1852. It depicted Ophelia, a character from William Shakespeare's play Hamlet, singing to herself before drowning to her death in a river in Denmark.
Without turning to greet the young man, Phineas asked in a hoarse voice, "I never wished to pry knowing this one must have meant the world to you. Forgive me, I did ask other portraits, as discreetly as possible about the painter but no one seems to have heard much of him. Where is this place? I never had time to travel much while I was alive."
Snape informed, "The original was painted somewhere along the banks of the Hogsmill River in Surrey, near Tolworth. This one is doctored."
"You mean forged. It's drawn by a muggle, but I can see this one has magical qualities as well. Where is the original?"
"National Gallery of British Arts, Tate."
"Does the artist of this particular forgery remember his handiwork?" Black muttered knowingly.
Snape smirked.
Phineas gave an empty laugh and mumbled," Portraits and painting have always fascinated me. There was a time when I had researched at length on them. Got a thesis out…"
"Your work was the inspiration behind this one."
Phineas turned and peered at Snape. Severus waited for his acerbic comment but the other shocked him by saying," Half Bloods. One should always expect the unexpected from them. Only an intelligent mind capable of grasping the best of the two worlds will be able to seamlessly fuse technology, art and magic and produce a perfect masterpiece. what's not there in the original?"
After a brief pause, Severus whispered unsteadily, "The hair is chocolate black, and instead of lilies the subject is holding wildflowers."
Together they watched the melancholic figure and Phineas murmured, his voice stripped off emotion, "Dumbledore admitted his mistakes. Mr. Potter is correct, my worthless great great grandson was murdered by his own cousin."
Twisting his face unmindful of his tilted turban, and wrinkled robes, the old man in the portrait said, "If only I knew those many years ago, I could have done things differently. Losing Sirius… I mean my brother when he was five... could never overcome that feeling of helplessness. I wanted to grow quickly. I could have taken a lesson from my own son's beliefs, but no, I disowned Phin. I never understood adolescents. Maybe because I never lived like a teenager, academics and research kept me busy. I take no pride in being referred to as the worst Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. Teaching was not something I enjoyed, much like you. I never had the patience for it. I preferred burying my nose into dirty tombs, running my mind in search of an answer to a problem... I was not popular among students or even among my own peer group. I could never take criticism lightly. Though I remember playing Quidditch, Gobstone, and Wizards Chess with my housemates. Life as a growing young man was something you would wish to pass hurriedly in my times."
"On the contrary, Dumbledore thinks it is the best time in anyone's life." Snape offered.
"Maybe for some...but most of us, don't have that luxury. Dumbledore knows how to be popular among people. I have seen him flourish over the years. Children would never warm up to a ferocious wizard. So he smiles a lot, puts on atrocious robes, and makes himself appear like a happy old man. He knows his part well. I on the other hand find it vain. Yes, being a Slytherin I understand the art of manipulation but I would prefer to lurk in the shadows and confuse my opponent than taking a stroll with him in a rose garden talking about the weather but plotting his murder in secret. "
"Indeed."
Dipping his fingers into the stream, Headmaster Black watched the running water and how Ophelia's heavy gown continued to soak in it and murmured, "Much later in life did I realize the problem was not with the Muggle borns. It was with wizards' and muggles' behaviors. They did what they did because they were afraid of us. We retaliated in order to protect our magic. They tried to cover up their lack of magical abilities with intellect and technology."
"You know not much has changed…" Snape trailed off.
Phineas was not paying attention to the other man. He continued wondering aloud, "If Sirius would have treated Kreacher well maybe the house elf won't have betrayed him? If Walburga would have really loved those boys without feeding their minds with nonsense, alienating the old brother and dotting over the submissive young one, Sirius and Regulus might have watched out for each other, as true siblings do? Sirius won't have left home and go to live with the Potters. Though the boy never said it fearing his mother's wrath, Regulus didn't take it well. The boy suffered alone. The reality hit him hard after he got that mark. And what did his parents do! Nothing! Sent the boy off to stay with Notts and Lestranges during the holidays, making sure he was getting ample of things to learn to fit into the society."
"And if we were not blinded by blood purity maybe Regulus would actually live to fulfill his dreams? Andromeda and Narcissa could have had a better life and Bellatrix would not have…" he choked. After a short pause, he murmured, "Have been dead for all these years, it's quite a lot of time to think over a lot of things you know. one can think over scenarios, reconsider one's own decisions, and question again and again...what if I did it in this way instead...Death is the absolute truth of life, but regret is the burden you continue to carry in the afterlife."
Severus watched on, as the man in the portrait ran his wet fingers over the drenched petals of wild water-lilies floating around the dying woman.
"I don't like Dumbledore's mollycoddling ways. And I don't think I am wrong to stand for intelligence and ambition, mixed with bravery and fortitude. Yet there are few I will hold in high esteem, people we both know of. Dumbledore, Riddle, Flitwick, McGonagall, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy and of course you. Potter, yes, I could have said his name, but that boy has to grow some more years, there is too much on his shoulders, now, that can be considered as a test as well," he turned and peered over his shoulders to get a reaction out of the stoic potion master.
When the other just waited next to the portrait watching the scene with an unreadable expression, Headmaster Black continued in a much lower tone, "Severus please, I know a portrait, a residual piece of a dead man cannot ask for favours, but, please, please save Draco. He might be a Malfoy, but my blood does run through his veins. To me, you have proven your worth years ago. A worthy student, I wish I could have taught in life, Slughorn never could do justice with your expertise. In return, I will support you in guarding everything that is precious to you."
Turning back to the woman floating in the river Phineas muttered," She was beautiful. Sad...is she speaking?"
"She was singing when she died, it's a scene from a tragic play written by…?"
"A muggle...Now there, I must start with something...tell me about it," Twisting his body he faced the younger Slytherin and waited patiently.
Fighting sleep, the half blood potioneer told the griefing former Headmaster the tragic tale of Ophelia and a bit about Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.
Nearly an hour later, the hunched figure of Phineas Nigellus Black gathered himself up, took a deep breath, stroked his beard and muttered, "Severus you avoid human contact on principle, I know you have your personal reasons to behave as such. But the castle, its artefacts and portraits have always considered you worthy. They watch you walk all night, they see you for who you truly are. This sentient castle only reveals its secrets to the ones who consider it as a friend. It has come to your aid whenever it felt the need to do so. The same can be said for several others. Think about it."
"Are we warming up to Remus Lupin now? Just because he could sneak me into the castle..." Snape muttered pretending to be disgusted by the very idea.
Phineas chortled," Oh! Not just him, there are more. The Weasley brothers, Miss Granger, and Mr. Zabini. I am just a little hurt by how the Room of Requirement sided with Dumbledore's Army. They should have called their secret endeavour Hogwarts's army instead, would have been fitting. "
"Yet, we Slytherins are quick to side with consequentialism, the end justifies the means."
The portrait scowled and muttered indignantly, "I would have said something in return, but you will have to wait. Very Slytherin of you, trapping me in such a way. Has it escaped you, I am in mourning?"
Snape had the courtesy to look away ashamed for speaking without thinking for once.
Sighing, Phineas whispered mournfully, "I think I must go now. Won't be a problem if you check on your other friend whenever you can, the smartest of those four troublesome Gryffindors. And Severus, your Ophelia lived like a brave woman." stroking the red hair of the floating lady with a rare touch of affection, he whispered, " I confess, I have often visited this portrait when you locked yourself up busy in research and experimentation. There were times when I found you lost in reading a book. I didn't disturb you, but couldn't resist reading snippets either. The idea of death has always fascinated the portraits and the ghosts. There was this quote which I just couldn't stop marveling at. 'Death is nothing, nor life either, for that matter. To die, to sleep, to pass into nothingness, what does it matter? Everything is an illusion.' Goodnight, Spymaster." He nodded pensively and walked out of the portrait.