Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 67
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Snape gawked at the innocent portrait and swayed a little. The whole thing was juxtaposed in such a grotesque manner. To hear something so innocent speak of a singular event which marked the beginning of the second phase of his traumatic life.
For the whole week before the term of 1991 started, Snape had racked his brain. Albus Dumbledore had gruffly declared in the Head of the Houses' meeting, Harry James Potter was going to attend Hogwarts that year. Though he could distinctly recall Minerva drawing everyone's attention to the fact that the Potter's brat was yet to send in an official confirmation letter. Flitwick supplied thoughtfully, "Does the boy know of magic?" And Sprouts playfully chastised the half-goblin," James and Lily's son knows no magic, preposterous. Probably, his muggle relatives just could not find a way to read the magical letter." Snape sat grimly at the furthest corner of the room, blended in the shadows lost in his own thoughts.
Neither Sprouts nor Flitwick had ever met Petunia Evans. But he was quick enough to pick up the significant glares McGonagall was sending the Headmaster's who was doing everything to avoid her eyes by picking the sequels of his canary blue robes. So the boy was with his aunt. Fancy growing up there! If she had it her way, he would be suffering from malnutrition and abuse, unparalleled abuse. He would have to redouble the stocks of the hospital wing. Of course discreetly. Poppy might be condescending but Dumbledore always got to know what transpired in the castle.
He was thankful that the old man had spared him from commenting on the strange case of an eleven-year-old brat being unable to reply to a standard letter of acceptance. Returning to his quarters, he had failed to sleep that night.
A week later, he found Hagrid coming out of Dumbledore's office, greeting him with a friendly, 'ello'. Among many things the half-giant could have said, the shaggy breaded had whispered to him importantly," Off to Hogwarts' business."
Coming up his way through the spiral stairs, he could still hear Minerva's voice," Hagrid! You are sending Hagrid to get him, How can you trust him with something so important! Isn't it my job to pay the muggle-borns and the half-blood students an official visit? Or after all these years of relentless service, you are finding faults…" Albus's voice had risen above hers," Minerva, be reasonable!" The Transfiguration Professor had screeched," I. am. Being. Reasonable. Hagrid worships you, but he is going to stand out in Muggle London like a sore thumb. If not me, you could have sent Severus. He was friends with Lily, they grew up together. He will know the Aunt, he can negotiate and attend to miscommunication, in case there is any…" Unable to tackle the rising dread in his heart, Snape had dashed down the stairs. Dumbledore's profound 'no' had greeted him on the last step.
He had run back to his quarters and scribbled a quick note, an excuse to return to his Spinner's End house, because he forgot a stack of study plans, the man had left the school grounds in a hurry. The Headmaster as expected had come seeking him at his parent's house at Cokeworth. They had shared a bottle of firewhiskey and Snape had renewed his oath, the one he took several years ago. He will protect Harry Potter. Relieved Dumbledore had just patted his shoulders and said, "take your time, but I am expecting you by tomorrow afternoon. I think that gives you enough time to locate those misplaced study plans." In the damp pungent air of his dilapidated house, Snape had flung his tumbler at the fireplace, as soon as the green flames turned back to ember red. He had next marched up to his bookshelves and brought out several books on herbs and potions. Picking up a muggle text on the language of flowers and plants, he pursed his lips and gritted his teeth, "and I will give him no reason to warm up to me."
The book had travelled back to Hogwarts under the many layers of his clothes. A secret trip to Private Drive, earlier that day, had confirmed his suspicions. The apothecary had excess orders to handle that week from Hogwarts. Dumbledore had just raised his eyebrows but chose once again not to question his integrity.
And after all these years, Hermione Granger had thrown that providential piece of bone in front of him. None of those pureblood, half-blood or even those muggle-born students saw through his delicately arranged, apparently innocent potion related question. How was he to know, while he was baiting the Potter brat and Lily's only son, he was being watched by yet another brilliant mind, his own blood, Lily's girl and his daughter, the know-it-all, hand waving, bucktooth, overzealous, muggle-born witch?
Looking directly at Snape the girl had asked in her innocent voice, "Potion master! Why do you look so sad? There is nothing in the past that you can undo. Can you?" a sly smile crept up her face," you expected a first-year boy to answer that on his very first day. And you wanted him to answer it, not my older self. Forgive me, sir, unless I have the correct answer, I cannot let you all pass."
Panicked by the ring of finality in that eerie little voice, Draco stepped forward and provided the textbook answer "if you did combine Powdered Root of Asphodel and an infusion of Wormwood, you'd brew a sleeping potion 'so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death."
Little Hermione had slowly turned her head towards the expectant man and throwing her head back, she started laughing. She stopped to screw up her face and repeated his words in a sing-song voice thereby ridiculing him terribly. The portrait had swelled up on the surface and from it, both the doe and the fawn had pounced out, stopping in front of the surprised men.
Nursing his bruised ego, Draco watched how the doe nuzzled its snort at Severus's trembling palm. Meanwhile, the fawn had decided to tug at Harry's pants and sleeves, desperate to make him chase it through the narrow corridor. He couldn't help himself but scowl at the portrait and snarl under his breath, "Forever, the bossy, know it all."
Snape took to caressing the misty doe and swallowed when both the mother and it's babe vanished into thin air., Smiling once again at the immense display of magic, he nodded in realisation and turned to face a bewitched Harry Potter.
In a level voice, the headmaster repeated the question, the very first thing he had asked the eleven-year-old boy," Potter, tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry looked worried. He glanced at Malfoy and then at the expectant portrait version of young Hermione, then tried his luck, "Well, I would go with what Mafloy just said but that is not what this portrait wants to know, is it ?"
Shaking his head Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "I bitterly regret Lily's death. I asked this question to you in the very first potions class. I thought you had come prepared. You...you looked so much like James. I...I wanted to see whether you inherited even a bit of Lily's desire to learn...I am sorry, I didn't know about your life at Private Drive. And by the time, I learned of it, you were already preparing for your first year at Hogwarts. According to Victorian Flower Language, asphodel is a type of lily meaning 'My regrets follow you to the grave' and wormwood means 'absence' and also typically symbolizes bitter sorrow. I...I am sorry Harry. I regret Lily's death. I regret and I apologize for everything I have said or done to you. Can you forgive me, Harry Potter?"