From the Files of Dr. Dumbledore

The Case of Harry P., Supplemental

Snape? I stared at the stranger, my heart oddly torn between complete bewilderment and superstitious dread. The dark-clad man had stepped out of a boy's hallucinations, entered my office and confessed to murder. Snape, my murderer. Absurdly, I realized that I half-expected him to draw a wand from his coat pocket and point it at me. I really have too much imagination to be in this profession. I shouldn't have to remind myself that the world of Hogwarts has no existence outside the imagination of a troubled teen.

But Snape is real. He is here, in my office. Presumably, he has something on his mind, other than the planned murder of a non-existent headmaster.

"Are you – real then?"

I could have kicked myself for the utter stupidity of the question. Obviously he is real; he is here, unless I have started hallucinating too.

Snape smiled a little at my bizarre remark. His face was actually rather beautiful when he smiled. I suddenly found it difficult to imagine him as a killer, even though he had just confessed to a murder, as far as I could tell. Ah, here I go, trusting Snape again! But then, Snape had committed the inevitable murder out of love for Lily, hadn't he? Snape, the benevolent assassin, the moderate murderer…

"I am an old friend of Lily's."

I raised my eyebrows just a tad, and a slight flush spread over Snape's pale face.

"Well, more than a friend at one time, but that is a long time ago. Before she met… James."

Something in the way he said the name "James" reminded me of the sarcastic potions master from Harry's hallucinations. How is it possible to infuse a single syllable with that much resentment and contempt?

Snape went on: "Lily and I – we had not been in touch for some time. That's how James wanted it, and perhaps she did, too…" His voice trembled.

Am I sitting here feeling sorry for a man who just confessed to murdering a child?

Snape sank down into one of my office chairs. "But a few days ago, Lily wrote to me…" He swallowed audibly. "She - she told me of Harry's illness, and she gave me your name."

Lily did?

"Lily… I think she has begun to realize that the memory of his brother Tom is what is making Harry ill. She desperately wants to help him, but she is not able to tell you about Tom. My poor Lily! Even in her letter to me, she referred to Tom only as "You know who". She has never been able to utter his name since…" Snape's voice trailed off.

Since what? Since you killed her child?

No. Snape cannot be a killer. Not when his face is distorted with pain at the very thought of Lily's suffering. But he said he killed Tom…

Snape looked up at me, his dark eyes unfathomable. "This – this is not easy for me, Dr. Dumbledore," he said softly. "But Lily's letter to me was a cry for help, vague as it was. She needs me to help save her son. I am here to do so."

Save her son? But didn't you just tell me that you murdered her other son? How can you kill one brother, and be so concerned about the other?

Snape whispered: " I will tell you the truth, Dr. Dumbledore, the truth that Harry suspects and which James and Lily have tried so desperately to forget."

I leaned forward. "Tell me: Is Harry a twin?"

Snape nodded. "He was, yes."

Was. The word made me shiver.

"Here." He pulled something out of his coat pocket. "I have brought you this. This is one of the few remaining photographs of Tom and Harry together. James and Lily destroyed all the others after Tom's death, except for one that Lily keeps in a locket she never opens. I decided to keep one for myself, as a reminder-."

Lily's locket! The face of Voldemort…

My heart pounded in my chest as I reached out for the old photograph. I took it with a trembling hand, looked at the faded picture of the two boys, and suddenly I understood.

Neither can live while the other survives. Of course. This is why Tom had to die.

And my heart filled with pity for Lily and James and for Harry, the Boy Who Lived and for Tom, the Boy Who Died.

I turned to Snape. His dark eyes were blank, expressionless.

"I was the surgeon who separated them," he said in a low voice. "We always knew that at least one of them would die during the surgery, but without the operation they would both die. Not many doctors would even attempt the separation of Siamese twins with fused skulls, but I was one of the few who could do it."

Quirrell… Quirrell had to faces, so strangely merged together. And one of them was the face of Voldemort….

And Parvati's son Ganesha had two heads as well: One human, and one animal. But one head was severed…

"Lily..." Snape whispered. "Lily asked me to do it, to save the life of one of her sons, while killing the other. They were dying, you see, because of their fusion… They were slowly killing each other. Neither could live while the other survived… I had to kill one to save the other."

Avada Kedavra! The ancient healing spell that turned into a killing curse! The doctor has to kill in order to heal… Of course Snape is a doctor! I should have seen that; for what is a potions master, after all, but a master of medicine?

Snape went on: "Their brains were strangely fused together; it was impossible to separate them in such a way that they could both survive. One of them had to die… But Lily… Lily and James were unable to choose. How could they choose? They had two sons, identical one year olds, both loved and cherished, and one of them had to die. No parent could have made that choice. But I – "

His voice cracked a little, but he pulled himself together. "I did it for Lily," he said simply. "I made the horrible, impossible choice. Lily couldn't do it, so I made the choice for her. I chose to save Harry and kill Tom. I murdered a one year old child, so that his brother might live. There was no reason, no reason at all, to choose one over the other. Tom and Harry were both equally strong, and their chances of survival were about the same. But someone had to choose one over the other, or they would both die. And so I chose. I chose Harry, simply because I had to pick one. I have questioned my choice every single day for the past sixteen years. Why did I condemn that one to death, and the other one to life?"

"How-" I had a hard time finding my voice. "How can any human being make such a choice?"

A ghost of a smile flickered briefly over Snape's pale face. He whispered. "I made the choice so that Lily didn't have to. She has to live with the grief, but not with the guilt. The guilt is all mine. Perhaps that is why she can't bear to see me anymore… The surgery was…successful, if you can call it that, when you kill a one year old child so that his brother may live. I separated Harry from Tom, severed the bond between them."

Of course. Severus. The severer. The eternally ambivalent Snape, murderer and savior in one…

Poor Lily: Like Narcissa, she begged Snape to save her son, and like Bellatrix, she told him to sacrifice a child…

Ah, and then there was the poor Xenophilius, who loved so strangely, who betrayed the children to the death eaters, so that his child might live…

"Harry appeared to heal completely," said Snape quietly, "except for a scar on his forehead, a reminder of his lost brother. I have often wondered afterwards what it was like for Harry, growing up without his brother. I wonder if his body remembered, somehow, that it was no longer whole, that it had lost its other half… I separated them as best I could, but they were so entwined, I could not tell completely. Perhaps some part of Tom still lives on within his brother…"

"Oh, God," I muttered. "No wonder Lily and James were not able to speak of this!"

Snape nodded. "Lily and James, in their grief, vowed never to speak of it again. They couldn't even bear to mention Tom's name, but focused all their love and energy on Harry, the one who lived. I wonder how Harry found out... Maybe he found a letter or a diary that mentioned his brother..."

The diary! The memory of Tom lives in a diary… A diary (Lily's?) discovered by a sensitive eleven year old child, containing the story of his unknown twin's death and his own survival may have so traumatized the boy that he sought refuge in his fantasy world. He must have blamed his parents for his twin's death, blamed the surgeon, blamed himself for surviving… And perhaps his guilt and his fevered imagination gave rise to the fantasy of his lost brother becoming Voldemort, a figure of horror, seeking his revenge on the Boy Who Lived…

After Snape had left, I watched him through my office window as he disappeared down the street. The solitary figure was black against the flaming red of the setting sun. Lily doesn't speak to him anymore… La Belle Dame Sans Merci…

But Harry is healing now. When he was finally faced with the truth, Harry broke down completely, but he is now on his way to recovery. Painful as it may be for them, Lily and James are finally sitting down with him and talking about Tom. They have brought out their hidden mementoes of Tom: A baby cup, a teething ring, and a christening cap. The cup, the ring, and the diadem. James has even begun using Tom's name. Perhaps one day Lily will, too.

They all came together for one of their final visits with me today. Lily and James both had their arms around Harry's shoulders as they talked. Harry has finally begun to make eye contact, to acknowledge James' and Lily's presence, to admit that they are indeed his parents. What a charming family picture they made, the lovely flame-haired Lily and her dark-haired boys! Little Dudley was sitting on his father's lap, playing with the intercom button on my desk, much to the delight of Miss McGonagall, who answered every single one of his calls with the same pretend professionalism. Both Harry and his parents smiled at his little games.

Odd, though, how different Dudley and Harry are! Harry is the spitting image of James, while Dudley has these lovely, black curls, so unlike his father's straight hair… I wonder - yes, I wonder, if the charming Reggie Black really disappeared completely… Harry's hallucinations contained references to secret correspondence between himself and Sirius. And Lily… Well, Lily is a lady who keeps her secrets to herself. But James is a happy man, and their little family is a harmonious one. I do believe that in the end, all will be well.

With this I will conclude my notes on the curious case of Harry P.

I closed my notebook and sat still for a moment. This had truly been one of the strangest cases of my long career. I had grown quite fond of Harry, and of his wonderful imaginary realm.

But it will not do to dwell on cases of the past, and I have more patients in the waiting room. God knows what other troubled souls with dark secrets are waiting out there.

I sighed. Back to work. I pushed the intercom button. "Miss McGonagall? I'm ready for the next patient now. Kindly send the Cullens in."