11 – Surprise Visitor

"Purebloods." Snape said the password in a hushed voice in the Slytherin Dungeon and waited for the stone wall to open to the Common Room. He was breathing faster than usual, having just made record time returning from his clandestine meeting with Voldemort. Now, all he needed was to make it through the Common Room undetected to keep his trip a secret. He peered around the edge of the stone wall—the carved wooden chairs (all fit for an emperor's throne) sat empty, and the fireplace at the end of the room had red coals fading to blue-gray. The only noise was the occasional pop from the dying fire, but otherwise, everything was still.

Snape hurried past the chairs, the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, the tall, mahogany book cases, and he was nearly to the dormitory entry when he heard, "Severus. What a pleasant surprise."

He whipped around and Dumbledore was sitting in one of the chairs facing the fireplace, feet propped up, making him concealed to anyone entering from the dungeon. "Hello, Headmaster." His voice came out cool and controlled. "I just wanted to get some fresh air."

"I was out for an evening stroll myself. Thought I'd read a few muggle newspapers before turning in." He removed his spectacles and began wiping them with a silk handkerchief.

Snape looked at the unanimated newspapers on his lap. There were headlines about Vietnam, body counts, and a red flag with a yellow sickle, hammer, and star.

"Sometimes I wonder"—Dumbledore continued cleaning his spectacles without looking at Snape—"if the magical community should be more involved in the muggle world. Maybe we could prevent their wars."

He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was asking for an opinion, or if he was just an old man rambling at midnight to the first student that walked past.

"Please, have a seat." Dumbledore pointed to the chair next to his.

He moved to the seat slowly, unsure of where this conversation was headed, and wondering if it was coincidental that Dumbledore wanted to have this conversation tonight, moments after he'd left Voldemort. "Headmaster, I'm rather tired. Could we have—"

"Oh, Severus, a young wizard like you—I wish I had half your energy. So what do you think? Could we be valuable in their world? Should we be more involved?" Dumbledore placed the newspaper on a table, and there was a picture of a black helicopter flying over a smoking rice field.

"I do, Headmaster. Their rulers don't have special powers, and look at their world." He pointed to the picture.

"Our world," corrected Dumbledore. "Sometimes we forget we're together and more alike than we give credit for."

"But they don't have any powers. We should be…" He struggled for the right words.

"Higher than them? In charge of them?"

"Yes," said Snape coldly. "We're superior."

"Ah ha. But are we really?" Dumbledore handed him a copy of The Daily Prophet, and there was an article about Esmerelda, the witch he'd just seen at the Hog's Head. She'd spent the last four years in Azkaban for stealing a baby. "I think there's darkness in all of us. If we were to rule the muggles, to what end would it be?"

Snape appeared ready to give a speech about elevating wizards to their rightful place, but the question made him pause. Voldemort hadn't spoken of the reasons he wanted control of the muggles, and he didn't have a quick, convincing answer either.

Dumbledore was finally satisfied that his spectacles were clean and put them on. He looked at the grandfather clock and smiled at Snape. "Merlin's beard. It's getting late and you said you were tired."

Snape fidgeted in his chair. "Wait. What do you mean?"

"Just that the clock has already struck midnight."

"No, I'm talking about ruling the muggles. You asked, 'To what end?'"

"Oh. I just meant why would we want to govern their world when we have enough problems in our own? I think we have to ask ourselves if it would serve a greater purpose… or if it would serve something else."

The picture of Esmerelda stared at him, and suddenly her eyes no longer had patience in them, only fury. They were the sleeping tiger that would lash out at a boy petting it.

Dumbledore tucked The Daily Prophet under his arm with the other newspapers, and a piece of parchment fell to the floor. "Dear me. Can you grab that, Severus?"

It was the picture of Tom Riddle with the announcement that he'd be speaking of his Albanian travels at Hogwarts. He grabbed the picture and handed it to Dumbledore, avoiding eye contact.

"Professor Slughorn tells me that Tom will be judging the Christmas Challenge. I was a bit surprised when I heard this."

"Who? Oh." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, seeming to haven forgotten that Riddle meant Voldemort. It was strange that in a few short hours, the name Voldemort had overpowered Riddle to the point that Riddle no longer seemed real. "Why is that?"

"I never thought I would see him again. Tom, if that is the name he's still going by"—Dumbledore paused for a second but didn't wait for Snape to say anything—"applied for a teaching position here years ago, and…" Dumbledore gazed at the blue-gray goals as if reliving the memory. "Well, he and I have a gap in the way we look at things."

"I… I wouldn't know."

"Of course not, Severus." Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder and stood. "I've enjoyed this conversation. Thank you for indulging an old man."

"You're welcome, Headmaster. Good night." Snape stood abruptly and walked to the dormitory entrance.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"If a wizard were to ever govern muggles, a piece of advice. Make sure you could trust this person with your friends. The ones you love. The best leaders treat good people well, whether they're magically gifted or not."

He looked at the headmaster, poised to refute what he said, but then his eyes drifted back to the picture of Tom Riddle, and for the second time that night his hand grabbed his wand.

Dumbledore eyed this reflex curiously. "And one more thing. Ask yourself if this leader would treat you the same if your view was different from their own." With that, he turned and left the Slytherin Common Room.


Despite having been awake for hours, Harry had watched this memory with growing anticipation. He'd caught a second blast of energy from seeing Dumbledore and eagerly followed Snape to his room where he opened the book, The Fourth Curse. Snape looked at pictures of Willow Gorge for the next hour, planning the best route to the doppelganger root for tomorrow's adventure. After drawing a map, he grabbed a fresh piece of coal and turned his attention to Lily's portrait. Then, he turned to the letter from Voldemort (summoning him to Hogsmeade with little notice) that had prevented him from completing it.

Snape looked from one to the other. Lily's portrait to Voldemort's letter. He repeated this a few times before placing the coal on his desk and going to bed.

Harry could only guess what was going through his mind, but he figured Snape might be thinking about Lily meeting Voldemort. And perhaps hearing Dumbledore's voice, "Make sure you could trust this person with your friends. The ones you love."