Harry filled the basin with cold water and plunged his head into it.
He'd had a sleepless night, as he'd told Hermione he would. He hadn't even bothered to wake Ron when the time came for them to switch between watching and sleeping, just sat, letting his senses extend outward for any trace of hostile magic while his mind churned in turmoil.
Severus Snape, alive.
His mind teemed with questions. Did you sign up with Voldemort the first time despite his opinions of Muggle-borns like Mum, or because of them? Would you have ever changed sides, without her dying? Was it only ever about her? But it couldn't have been, could it, because you accepted that I'd have to die — so when did it change? How did you learn Occlumency — did you already know how to do it when you joined Voldemort? If you didn't, how come he never realised what you really felt for Mum?
His breath ran out, and he straightened, gasping, regarding his slightly blurry face in the mirror. First things first.
Let's save the man's life.
Ron leaned through the door. "Did you forget to wake me?"
Grabbing a towel, Harry dried the water from his face and hair, and put his glasses back on. "I was never going to sleep. I thought one of us should be on the ball in class today."
"You … you haven't had a fight with Ginny, have you?" Ron asked nervously.
"No," Harry reassured him. He tossed the towel back at the rack and mostly missed. "Look, Ron. Something's happened, and I need you to keep it to yourself for now. And keep it to us, to Dumbledore's Army, once I've told the others."
Ron nodded. "'Course, if you say so."
"It won't be easy," Harry warned him. "You're going to want to tell everyone, and you can't."
"Is this about Hermione's promise?"
"It's exactly about Hermione's promise," Harry said. He took a deep breath. It sounds much madder in the bright sunlight of a September morning in the bathroom that it did in Professor Snape's office in the dead of night. "The thing is, Ron, she made that promise to Severus Snape."
Ron frowned. "To Snape? I think I'd remember if — she didn't say anything, that night, not to him. And we hadn't seen him for months before then, had we?"
Harry took another deep breath, and said baldly, "She made it to Severus Snape last week, Ron. He's alive. He doesn't want anyone to know."
Ron stared at him. "Oh, bloody hell," he said at last. "It's happened, hasn't it?"
"What's happened?"
"This year's curse." He fumbled for his wand. "Hold still, Harry. If it hasn't been too long —"
"I'm not bloody cursed!" Harry said impatiently. "It's real, Ron. Fawkes saved his life. I found Hermione looking up curses in the Library, and she asked about Death Eaters and — I put the pieces together and when I asked her, well, you know Hermione."
"Worst liar ever," Ron agreed, but he was still watching Harry warily. "Come on, then, let's have a look at the map. If he's there, I'll believe you."
Harry shook his head. "He's in the Room of Requirement."
"Well, that's convenient," Ron said. His wand was in his hand now.
"Ron, stop talking to me like I'm a candidate for the Janus Thickey ward!" Harry snapped. "If I've lost my mind, then so has Hermione. She's actually seen him. And she's got nothing to do with the D.A.D.A post, has she?"
"Well, no. But I'd like to hear that from her, if you don't mind."
"Fine," Harry said. "I was going to Floo Kingsley before breakfast, but it can wait an hour. Let's go and talk to Hermione."
Ron's eyes widened. "Good thing I woke up, then. Tell Kingsley that Professor Snape's alive?"
"Not that he's alive, no. But that there's a Death Eater somewhere that we don't know about, who's cursed him."
"A secret Death Eater who's cursed Professor Snape," Ron said slowly. "Right, that's so much better."
"Ron." Harry took a deep breath. "You and me, we've hunted down parts of Tom Riddle's soul hidden in magical objects. I've survived the killing curse, twice. We broke into Gringotts Bank, Ron! Your family rat turned out to be a Death Eater!" His voice had risen and he had to make a conscious effort to lower it. "Is this really the maddest thing you've heard?"
"When you put it like that …" Ron lowered his wand to his side. "It doesn't sound any more mental than anything else, really."
"That's our lives, Ron, completely mental," Harry said, and they shared a smile. "So come on, let's find Hermione, and you can hear it from her."
In case there were any students up and about early, they slung their teaching robes on before they hurried down the staircase, through the D.A.D.A classroom, and headed to Ravenclaw Tower.
Hermione opened her door in her bathrobe, took one look at Ron's face, and said to Harry, "You've told him, haven't you?"
"Yes," Harry said.
She opened the door wider and stepped back. "You'd better come in."
"He doesn't believe me," Harry said as Hermione closed the door behind them and cast a quick Muffliato.
"I don't blame him." Hermione tightened the belt of her robe. "I didn't believe it myself until I'd tipped a cauldron of Thief's Downfall over his head."
"Standing right here," Ron said pointedly.
"Oh, I'm sorry Ron," Hermione said, sounding distracted. "Tilney, can we have tea and toast, please?"
"So it's true," Ron said slowly. "What Harry said — that he's alive — you've seen him."
"Yes." The tea appeared and Hermione poured three cups.
Ron sat down suddenly, staring at her. "And it's really him?"
"Large as life and just as rude," Hermione said.
"That's a bit disappointing," Ron said. "That he's still a git. You'd hope laying down your life would have a, I dunno, a mellowing effect."
Hermione shoved a tea-cup at him hard enough to slop tea into the saucer. "That doesn't mean he doesn't deserve our help."
"I didn't say it did, did I?" Ron protested. He turned to Harry. "Did I?"
Harry picked up his own tea-cup. "Staying out of it."
"Thanks," Ron said.
"Have you talked to Kingsley yet?" Hermione asked impatiently.
Harry shook his head. "Had to persuade Ron I wasn't suffering from the most recent iteration of the D.A.D.A curse, first."
"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione said thoughtfully. "That's certainly what I would have thought, if you'd come to me with the news, instead of the other way around."
"Thanks very much," Harry said. "Glad to know my two best friends' first instinct is to assume I've gone loopy." He sipped his tea. "I didn't think for a minute that you had, by the way."
"Well, of course not." Hermione's tone was matter-of-fact. "But look, Ron — like I told Harry last night. Professor Snape doesn't want people to know he's still alive. He said that Minerva and Poppy Pomfrey promised to keep it a secret, after Harry killed Voldemort, so no loyal Death Eaters would try to take revenge on him, but something Minerva said …" She bit her lip. "I have the feeling it's not just that."
"Well, it was bad enough for us, wasn't it?" Harry said. "For that first year, I felt like I was being asked about my mum, and Professor Dumbledore, and the Order of the Phoenix, every time I turned around. I couldn't buy a sandwich without a witch or wizard popping up in the queue and thanking me for my bravery and crying a few tears over my poor dead Mum."
"Imagine Snape's face," Ron said. "Imagine what he'd say to some stranger crying over him."
There was a short silence as all three tried, and failed, to picture it.
"We've got a reasonable chance of working out what this curse is, and how to break it," Harry said. "And if we can, we respect his privacy, right? Keep it to ourselves — and Ginny and Luna and Neville, we might need their help."
"And if we can't?" Hermione asked quietly.
"If we can't, he's just going to have to resign himself to being a public hero," Harry said firmly. "I'm not letting him die."
Not twice.
Hermione shooed them out so she could finish getting dressed, promising to represent them at breakfast in the Great Hall.
"I'll Floo Kingsley, and tell him about your 'anonymous tip'," Ron said. "And take the morning classes."
"Thanks," Harry said.
"Basic safety measure," Ron said. "It's not like you're going to be able to concentrate on anything else until you've seen him, is it?"
And that, Harry had to agree, was true.
Remembering the nature, and the limitations, of the Room of Requirement, he made his way down to the kitchens, where it took him a little while to persuade the house elves that he did not need to be immediately sat down and fed to bursting. "A tray," he told them firmly. "A breakfast tray. Tea, and toast, and … I don't know. Breakfast. Not too much, because I've got to carry it."
That raised more objections, and Harry finally agreed that the tray would meet him at his destination.
Accordingly, ten minutes later, he was walking up and down the corridor, carrying a tray crammed with not just tea and toast, but bacon, eggs, sausage, kippers, a bowl of porridge, and tiny pots of every jam available. I need to go to where Severus Snape is, he thought hard. I need to go to where Severus Snape is. I need to go to where Severus Snape is …
The door appeared. Balancing the tray carefully on his knee, Harry opened it.