1991-21 december
The professors meeting was something that was held three times each year. In Severus opinion, they were three times too many. And why would they need to spend the equinox or the solstice talking about their students? He could be attending a potion that could be brewed only on that day of the year, but no, Albus insisted that those dates were the perfect moments to discuss everything Severus did not care about.
He could only be grateful that his Slytherins didn't cause problems outside of the common room, otherwise he would need to address them with the other professors too. Thinking about it, he was also grateful because none of his House students was raising any kind of concern regarding their marks. Well, none but Flint, Crabbe and Goyle. But those three had a pea sized brain, so no kind of discussion about them could properly address their shortcomings.
His blank expression did very little to hide his boredom, since the rare times he was addressed in regards to... well, everything, he answered with a single word, two at most. His drawl was an effective deterrent against everyone of his colleagues, everyone but Albus, Minerva and Filius, obviously. After hours of unsufferable, pointless and tedious commentary about every single student, the meeting finally came to an end.
"Severus, join me in my office please." Albus added when he was almost bolting to the door. He suppressed the groan of disappointment that threatened to escape his lips and shadowed the Headmaster to his incredibly ugly gargoyle.
"Acid Pops!" The ancient wizard said. His passion, or better yet, obsession with sweets had made him choose treats of a sugary kind as a password since Severus attended Hogwarts as a student.
The gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator, and after they stepped on it, the wall behind them thud istelf closed. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, they reached a corridor. And at its end stood the gleaming oak door which had a brassknocker in the shape of a griffin.
His office was, like always, an eyesore. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of annoying little noises that scratched the hearing and bright colors that assaulted the eyes. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindlelegged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. He distracdedly recognized a few, before letting his eyes roam the walls, which were coveredwith portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. The fireplace was ornated with runes coated in gold, and was big enough that Severus could enter it without having to lower his head. There was also the enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, the Sorting Hat. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Severus stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making a gagging noise.
"Go ahead and burn, unsufferable bird, spare us your pity party" Severus snapped. While the phoenix squawked outraged, Dumbledore let loose a relieved chuckle.
"Old friend, while Severus could do with a bit more sugar in his life, his counsel is often spot on. Don't let our worries hold you back." Albus said. Tilting slowly his head, the bird let out a mournful cry and bursted into flames.
"Finally." muttered Severus, sitting down in an armchair near the fireplace. He was soon joined by the powerful warlock, who adoperated himself putting a teapot on the embers that shone on the outskirts of the blazing fire. Severus didn't interrupt him, nor tried to speed up the process with magic.
"I know that the meetings bore you, and that waiting for this old man to make tea must look like another waste of time." he said, "Please forgive me, and bear with my quirks."
Severus arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Sometimes it feels like the last ten years have been one of your quirks." he muttered, stealing another chuckle from the headmaster.
"Peraphs you're right." he answered "I had expected an interation of some kind already. But nothing, they walked very close to each other without crossing paths."
"Crossing paths..?" wondered Severus "You expected the boy to be involved with the troll on Hallow's Eve?"
"I expected that something on the 31st of october, and that young Harry would be involved, yes. I hope you're not suggesting that I would let a first year face a mountain troll, talented or not." answered the older wizard.
"I won't even pretend to believe by your mocking feeling hurt at my accusation." Severus cut drily.
"Prophecies are courious things, Harry and Tom are tied together, they're like magnets, in that sense. I've witnessed to the completion of another, many years ago. And based on that experience, I can tell you that the events will conspire to unite the two of them. The more we try to separate them, the more violently the phrophecy will react, causing endless grief to all of us." said the headmaster.
"You talk about that blasted prophecy like it's alive." grumbled the potion master.
Albus smiled, and his eyes shone of the satisfaction only a teacher can feel when one pupil makes a particular insightful observation. "More like they react to the happenings of the world. Prophecies are dynamic things, and they always come true in the end."
Severus shook his head "I don't follow."
Dumbledore looked at him with something akin to pity: "It's hardly your fault. We should have had this talk moths ago, at the lastest. You're the only one I can talk about this freely after all."
Severus sat straightier in his armchair, his attention now brought fully on the headmaster. It was more than rare that he would explain things plainly, and beyond the wildest dreams that he would so openly talk about the workings of the prophecy.
"Are you about to die?" he asked suddenly, and at Dumbledore's arched eyebrow, the potion master elaborated "It would explain why the sudden change in your strategy of keeping all the cards close to your chest."
The headmaster gave a deep belly laugh at the explanation. It was so uncharacteristical of him that Snape could only stare. "Forgive me Severus, sometimes I forget that you truly do not listen to a single word of what is said in the trimestral meetings. But I can see where you come from, I've never been the most forthcoming person when it comes to planning." He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye before assuming a more serious expression, regaining his usual benevolent and serene behaviour.
"Young Harry has made friends inside and outside of Slytherin. And since november he has been part of a study group composed by the youngest Weasley, the one so unexpectedly sorted in Ravenclaw" Severus nodded, identifying quickly the one he was talking about. His sorting had been the second most discussed, after Potter's, obviously. "Harry, and Ron got it started, collecting the muggleborn Hermione Granger, who has quickly placed herself as the best in all of her classes. These three are the most promising students of this year, I hadn't seen such brilliance and dedication in a long time." the old wizard sounded... proud? "The study group had grown quickly, and it now counts among its members Neville Longbottom, The Patil twins, Terry Boot, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. There hasn't been a study group with all four houses in it since when I was teaching Transfiguration, Severus, and never one so big."
The potion master stared blankly at his employer, waiting for an explanation.
"Besides their wonderful academic results, young Harry, Ronald, and one day I hope Hermione, are thick as thieves, and practice ahead of their syllabus on Sundays. In great secret, obviously. I believe that they are almost finished with the Charms and DADA first year program." the headmaster went on.
"Are you trying to tell me that a bunch of brats working together inspired you so much that you choose to change your ways?" Severus asked.
"Partly I have been reminded of the simple fact that 'two heads work better than one'. I won't deny it." answered kindly the old wizard.
"You will forgive me, but the first time I planned something with another it led to disaster, and on the other,admittedly few, occasions, the other people only slowedme down."
He took a breath, like he was preparing himself to sprint. "In this case, it's the fact that Harry and the troll hadn't interacted at all that made me think. I already told you that the more one opposes a prophecy, the more violently it realizes itself. One of them will kill the other, on that there is no room for doubt. That will result in a confrontation, you see, a prophecy is like lighnting held within the clouds, waiting to discharge itself on the ground. Every time Harry and Tom come close to each other, phisically or through other means, the lightning tries to strike."
"You are saying that every thing they do is an extension of themselves, and so the troll, which had been a red herring organized on behalf of the Dark Lord, should have found his way toward Potter?" asked Severus.
Albus' blue eyes twinkled merrily while he clapped. "You prove the sharpness of your mind once again, Severus, I would give Slytherin points, but I hear they're doing quite well for themselves." this was the professor who enjoyed teaching. "And now you must be asking youreself why didn't the troll find young Harry. The answer, I'm afraid, it's somewhat haunting. And to understand it, you will need to listen to the whole prophecy."
"Albus I don't think..." the potion mater started to object.
"Severus, we both know the strenght of your resolve and the extraordinary occlumency you're capable of, don't waste our time playing humble, it's beneath you." the headmaser interrupted him.
Humbled by the weight of the trust placed upon his shoulders, the black haired wizard jumped when the teapot started whistling. The headmaster grabbed it with his hand wrapped in his too long sleeve and poured them two cups of hot water, before offering a small paper bag full of herbs. "I believe this mixture would go well with just a tiny bit of cognac." The ancient wizard rised his arm, and a bottle rose from behind a shelf, before floating gently into his hand. He then added a generous amount of the liquor to their cups. They drank in a companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts.
"No." Severus said after a while.
"No?" asked perplexed the headmaster.
"I understand where you are coming from, and I thank you for the trust you placed in me with your offer. But it's still tactically unwise to give me the exact wording of the prophecy. If you must, tell me the bare bones of what you think I must know. But nothing more, for the sake of everything we've worked on." The potion master explained.
Dumbledore gave him a surprised glance, before going over his request. "Very well, Severus, we'll do it your way. The prophecy designs Harry as Tom's equal. And this is what I find interesting."
Albus stroked his beard absent mindedly for a rew seconds, before talking again.
"You see, when Tom attended Hogwarts, he surrounded himself with a loyal group of 'friends', each of them held one of three things: wealth, friends in the higher ties of society, or crude magical power. All of them were purebloods, and he knew even others at the Slug Club. These friends of his became the Knight of Walpurgis at first, before becoming more known as death eaters in the following generation. Abraxas, Lucius' father, was one that belonged to that circle, Orion Black was another, only three years Tom's junior. Young mr. Riddle came to Hogwarts alone, without friends. He grew up in an orphanage and was sorted into Slytherin. At the time I was still teaching transfiguration and had just become vice headmaster. That, along with my duties as the Head of Gryffindor, didn't left me time to check on young Tom. His being muggle raised in Slytherin, with no idea of who his parents were, along with his natural tendencies, made him isolate himself. His talent and drive however let him become the 'bigger fish' in Slytherin very fast."
The headmaster sat quietly for a minute, staring into the fire. "I failed him. I thought a good scare was all that was needed to show him the wrongness of stealing, but I fear that he felt it like I was bullying him into submission. And so, in the same very first day in which he learned he was a wizard, he also learned that our world was made of those who held power, and those who didn't. Worse, I showed him that the latter were to serve the first. That tossed him onto a path that led to loneliness, and lonely people can become terrifying beings."
Severus had no idea of what he was talking about, but he was too familiar with remorse to not recognize it. He reached over, placing a hand on Albus' shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze.
"Hindsight is twenty twenty, they say." he told to the old wizard.
Dumbledore shot him a smile that was a cross between grateful and wistful, before focusing once more on what was the purpose of their conversation.
"Forgive me, old minds tend to wander when left unchecked. Tom and Harry both came to Hogwarts alone, grown up unhapply among muggles, were sorted into Slytherin, and built around them a circle of friends. My reasoning is as follows: the more similar choiches Harry makes, the more quiescent the prophecy stays. Now obviously we do not wish young Harry to become the next Dark Lord. But there is one foundamental difference that already steered us clear of that path." the headmaster said.
"If you tell me it's love.." started grumbling the grumpy potion master exactly in the same instant that Albus said "Love."
The Head of Slytherin House groaned before putting down his now empty cup and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"It will never cease to amaze me how skeptical you are when love it's mentioned. After all, it's the reason we are where we are." the headmaster replied, he was greatly amused by Severus frustration.
"His study group is where Harry is currently looking for friends, and he already has Ronald and Hermione among them, and mr. Zabini is another that he cares deeply about. The difference between him and Lord Voldemort" at the mention of the name the ex death eater stiffened, " it's always been and always will be love. Simply as that. Young mr. Potter didn't find himself alone, and that is enough. The similarities between Tom and mr. Potter give us time, but there will come a moment in which Harry Potter will need to choose his path. I have no doubts that he will choose his friends over power, again and again. He will become like a reflection in a mirror, equal, but opposite. And then the prophecy will explode in our hands. Dragging us around like leaves into a whirlwind."
"This, this sounds like a good thing doesn't it? More time?" asked the potion master, who still trying to come to terms with what he had just been told.
"It simply is Severus." answered Dumbledore, "One one hand, more time means that Harry and his generation can grow up into people that will be able to withstand the storm on their own feet, he has already started breaking the divide among Houses, even if nobody but me has noticed. That means that many will have a choice, when the time comes, between him and the Dark Lord, which is better than no choice at all. Maybe Theodore Nott will choose Harry over his father. On the other hand, his evergrowing circle of friends will be exposed to the pure blood propaganda, and when the prophecy will start actively dragging us around, they will be adults, and I won't be able to shield them. I will also be older, and age is an enemy that I can't and won't battle."
The Head of Slytherin House rubbed his temples: "Are you pulling youreself out of the war?"
The headmaster shook his head gravely: "Not at all. But I recognize that my value on the board dims with my growing age, I can almost feel Time knocking at my door, ten years from now I will no longer be a match for Tom. But I think that together, maybe, those three can."
"You would bet everything on them? And to hell with the rest of us?" asked Snape, visibly shocked.
Dumbledore gave him a reassuring wink. "I am still here, I thought that I would be able to lead this game, even if not to its end, but I now see that I can merely set the board, and prepare the next queens and bishops, rooks and knights, so that they can choose their pawns with the utmost care, and they can keep the king safe."
Severus rose from his armchair,shaking his head to his defeated tone. "To me it sounds like you are giving up!" he reprimanded the ancient warlock.
Dumbledore's experrsion became grim, while his eyes flashed of the blue belonging to the ocean's dephts and his voice assumed a rythm worthy of a funeral speech: "I am old, child. You still can't understand what it means to live a life this long, I was born in 1881, you are 31. I've had my share of love, pain, grief, honor, wrath, envy, guilt and war. I've been told I am a genius, and I remember each agonizing second of my battle against Gellert, each shade of my empty pain when I saw my sister die, the distinct crack of my nose breaking under my brother's fist, the pride of learning under Nicholas Flamel. I saw the first cars, the ships that sailed to whaling. You have no idea how heavy on the heart is seeing Charlus Potter's chin on his grandson, or recognizing your great grandmother cheekbones on your face. I saw the last Malfoy display Durella Rosier's ears. I've seen them all come and go, and in the meantime I've been showered with important jobs that nobody can do half as well as me, by people that are both terrified and longing for me to rule them as a king. And every twenty years I hope to see a generation that does not need to learn the lessons I've got carved on my skin and soul. I look back, and I only see a wasteland, of all the people I knew and loved, Abeforth and Elphias are the only ones that I remember being young with. The first still hates me, and the second is often too lost into his own mind to talk like we used to. And I am old enough to have seen many like you accusing me of not doing enough, while I am balancing the magical world on the tip of my crooked nose." The ancient warlock stared down the young potion master. Who sat down once more, sorry for his outburst.
The silence hung heavily in the air for what felt like hours, "I'm sorry, Albus. You didn't deserve it, it's just... too much."
"I know how it feels like to be overwhelmed. One tends to lash out. There is nothing to forgive, my boy. And I"m not giving up, I will spend the years I still have tricking the game so that you'll start wirh a leg up." answered Albus, once again with a calm tone.
Severus sighed, thinking about all the things that had been said, and applying occlumency to center himself. "On the short term, what does it mean? What do we do with Quirrel?"
Dumbledore rose from his armchair and wandered trough his office until he reached Fawkes perch, where he started running a finger over the newborn phoenix, that let out an appreciative gargle. "On the short term it means that I should find a way to delay the Triwizard, that it's too soon to pressure the death eaters still at large with the law Arthur Weasley is preparing for the next year, and that we should hire a proper history professor. It means that my plans will be our plans, and that we will discuss them together, starting tomorrow evening. It means that near the end of the year I'll corner Quirrel, in the meantime, keep an eye on him, but from a distance. Capturing Voldemort has always been an ambitious project. You could consider taking a more active role in Harry's education, and start training youreself like there's going to be a gruesome war in less than ten years, because it will probably be so."
Severus Snape rose from his armchair, once again going over their heavy conversation. He stopped just before leaving his office.
"I have no idea what this business with the Triwizard is, but I guess we will go over it tomorrow." at the headmaster's assent, the potion master went on: " Why a proper History teacher? I mean, why now?"
"Because a proper understanding of the society we live in is built upon our knowledge of its History. With a capable teacher the awareness of the muggleborns mistreatment at the hands of the Ministry will explode, and when, after the war against Voldemort, it will be necessary pull through the pain and build a new government, the informed muggleborns will be there. In this way we use the unavoidable war against Tom to revolutionize our country. It will be our French Revolution of 1789, but without Government of Terror and pointless bloodshed." explained Dumbledore.
Snape just blinked, unwilling to believe that the man in front of him had a mind capable of pulling out a plan of that magnitude in the five short steps that brought him from his armchair to the firebird's perch. "We will need a competent minister." was all he was able to suggest.
The headmaster nodded, like it was exactly what he was focusing on, and for all Severus knew, it was exactly like that.
"I was thinking about Amelia Bones, Scrimgeour could take her place at the DMLE." He answered kindly, then noticing the vacant eyes of the potion master, he smiled. "You're tired, my friend, go to sleep. We'll plot tomorrow"
With a trembling nod, Severus Snape left the headmaster office, already feeling older after the long talk.