Thank you, patient readers. It's taken a good deal of time to finish this chapter. Busy spring and summer, what can I say? I've also been working hard on getting this right, hope I was successful. Enjoy, just a few more chapters to follow. And a shout out to my reader from St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Had to get out a map!
Lastly, reviews are most welcome. More to come, hopefully before the fall! DN
Although he longed to spend the rest of his days held in Morgan's embrace, this was not the plan, according to Hania and the wizards and witches of Sedona. After a respectable amount of time, the parties drew nearer to the couple and bid them rise. They did so and allowed themselves to the guided back towards the castle, each step a little stronger than the one before. The students were still gathered at the open windows, watching as flowers blossomed across the hillside, followed by swarms of butterflies. The students debated if the magic was from the Sedona contingent, Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, or Dr. Hunter, but everyone agreed it was a great improvement to the campus and wondered why it hadn't been done before.
Upon reaching the rear entrance hall, jammed with students still gawking, Chowi spoke, in voice strong enough to be heard above the murmurings. "Our Purificants must now continue their recovery in the company of their sisters and brothers until the morning sunrise." Harry saw a shadow fall across Snape's face. Harry wondered who would be considered Snape's "brothers and sisters," if anyone. Then Hania and the other wizards gathered around the Headmaster, the witches around Dr. Hunter. "Brother Severus, where shall you rest tonight?" Lapu asked. Snape searched the crowd until his eyes met Harry's. With a slight gesture of his hand, Harry understood that he could join them, not as a godson, not as a student, but as a peer, a brother of their number.
He made his way through the field of shoulders, trying hard not to grin like a fool. Up close, he could see more clearly the effect the sweat had had on Snape. His shoulders drooped and he was still being assisted in standing. But there was a light to his eyes that spoke of not of irritation or disgust, but clarity, as though he were seeing Harry for the first time. One of the Sedona Wizards, who gave his name as Corey Burroughs, approached Harry, explaining that they would be staying with the Headmaster until the morning, or longer, if necessary, and asking if there was anything he would need. Harry was still in a bit of a state of shock, and shook his head. Harry joined them, trailing the still-weakened Headmaster, surrounded by the Sedona Wizards and Professor Flitwick.
He had expected them to make their way to the Headmaster's office, as this was the only place Harry was used to seeing Snape privately. He had never given a second thought to where the teachers stayed at night, imagining them just arriving at breakfast from their classrooms, so when their direction was towards the dungeons, he gave himself a mental kick. Of course he would have an apartment of some kind, personal space for himself.
Snape's personal chambers were deep in the dungeons, past the Potions classroom, the storeroom, and his old office. Harry struggled to imagine what they would be like. His old office had been lined with creepy things in jars, but he hadn't done anything novel with Dumbledore's office since he'd taken up residence there, other than to store most of the little magical devices in the cabinets to clear the desk. Perhaps he had inherited the Potions office, as well, and simply never made the effort to change things, not caring the slightest about anything other than practical needs, supplies for his craft. Or perhaps he kept his private chamber as a refuge, with comforts that he otherwise seemed not to notice. The rumored Snape fortune might have been spent there on a luxurious hideaway.
"It's good that there are rooms in the dungeons for your godfather," Burroughs noted to Harry. "The coolness will help him get his body back to normal. Cooling won't have any effect on the spiritual effects, only the physical," he added reassuringly. Harry wondered just what had gone on to Snape's spiritual side in the sweat lodge. Snape had an inner life, obviously, but he had never seemed, well, spiritual in any way.
The light of the day faded, as did the warmth and the fragrance of the flowers. Soon, Harry found himself in the unchanging depths of the dungeons, dark, damp, dank, sour. Though nothing had changed in the seven years he'd been coming down here for Potions lessons, the low ceilings now seemed unbearably claustrophobic, the dimness and shadows more forbidding than before, especially in contrast to the bright sun of the day and the riot of blossoms now covering the grounds. Once they had walked past the Potions classroom and labs, Snape's storeroom, and Dr. Hunter's office, Harry didn't know quite what their destination was. He'd always been so glad to leave, he'd never pondered what lay further along the dark corridors, nor where Snape's own chambers might be. He glanced among the Sedona wizards, but their faces were impassive.
When the air had become particularly stale and the walls nearly fully covered in slime, Snape stopped before a dark, undistinguished door. He waved his wand and muttered an unlocking charm and the sound of half a dozen or more locks releasing echoed through the darkness.
Harry entered after the rest of the group, being the youngest present. Their modest number crowded the small room, which was lined with bookshelves, filled with volumes clearly labeled from the library. How many had once been Snape's own, it was impossible now to discern. Most had two labels, the second being a bold red "R," designating them as from the Restricted section of the library. Harry scanned their titles with curiosity: Paralytic Spells and Their Countercharms, Poisonous Plants of Northern England and Scotland, The Evolution of European Magic in the New World. How useful had that book been, given that Dr. Hunter was of the Hopi Nation, not New World European?
Snape lay down on his bed, a small, plain frame topped with a faded quilt and a few rather deflated pillows. Chowi still had a supply of water, which he poured before Snape asked, setting the cup on the bedside table.
"Harry," Snape called tiredly. "Get some dinner for our guests." Harry made for the door, thinking of the rather long walk back to the kitchens beneath the Great Hall. He heard Snape snap his fingers, and a House Elf appeared, notepad in her hand, looking expectantly at the Headmaster, who gestured toward Harry.
Harry quickly overcame his initial disorientation and requested dinner for the assembled. What would be restorative, as well as appealing to everyone? He requested chicken orzo soup, venison chops, and roasted squash, fruit plates, orange juice, wine, and chocolate pudding. Once the House Elf vanished again, Flitwick conjured chairs for everyone, then pressed the walls out further, the thick rocks scratching against one another in resistance. Flitwick was more powerful, and soon the small, cramped room intended for one was sufficient to house the group comfortably.
The food arrived shortly thereafter. Hania, Lapu and Chowi could barely eat, however. Despite his tired appearance, Snape peppered them with all manner of questions about Hopi magic. Harry was also interested to know more, but the questions Snape asked were beyond his level. Things about circles, seasons, directions, the flow of energy, and temperament. Hania finally suggested that they continue this discussion in Sedona, in a future visit. "If you aren't too busy, that is," added Lapu with a wink that Harry couldn't quite understand.
Snape allowed the Hopi wizards a chance to eat by turning his questions to Corey Burroughs and the other Sedona wizards of European and African origin. It was as if he felt he needed to squeeze every possible bit of information from them before the opportunity slipped away. Harry had long since lost his train of thought, the talk of centering on education and organization, as well as new spells and countercharms.
He remained with him all night long, finally falling asleep in a bed Snape transfigured from a book entitled "Sacred Magic of the Hopi, Volume 7. Ceremonies of Life Passages." As he waited for sleep to come, Snape's questions droning on and on, he was surrounded by the smell of old book bindings and dreamed of being atop a broad, tall plain. His parents were there, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom and Gran, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione's parents, dancing to the rhythm of drums, welcoming him back with the others of his class. They all had with them the animals they had hunted, rabbits, deer, foxes. They had proven themselves well in the hunt and were now considered full members of the community. Harry looked around with pride at his friends and felt a shift within himself as he rose to take on this new phase of life.
It was a brilliant late spring day, warm air coursing through windows and down corridors, sunshine pouring through stained glass creating glowing visions in every classroom and the Great Hall, bringing with it the full promise of summer. A summer filled with sunny, lazy days and lacking in exams and homework. Small glimmers even reached the Potions labs, creeping through the high windows and brightening the normally dismal atmosphere of the dungeons.
The House Elves had begun their spring cleaning, putting in extra effort to prepare for the wedding that was to take place at the castle after the school year ended. Brass sconces that might never have been polished before now gleamed. The suits of armour, wincing in shame by comparison, insisted on a high polish, as well. Spiders were forced to crowd into the attics or take up residence outside as every corner of the castle was swept free of webs, dust, and dirt. Even the figures in the portraits had begun to compete on who was better-dressed or had the whitest teeth. Glamour Charms were being flung around like parchments after the end of exams while a blackmarket in gilderfloss had emerged. A much-needed refreshing of the owlery would have to wait until the students had taken theirs home, leaving only the Hogwarts owls.
Practical skills that graduates would need as witches and wizards out in the "real" world predominated in all the upper level classes, now that N.E.W.T. exams were complete. Professor Flitwick was taking them through a variety of cleaning and cooking charms, Professor Vector was teaching them how to assess contracts using numerology, and Professor Sinistra, whose class now began unconscionably late, focused on the influence of the stars and planets on the best times to ask for a raise at work or to issue a marriage proposal. Apparently, in the month of May, in the middle of the day, was the worst possible time; this fact was met with giggles.
Potions projects consisted of the several sessions that were required to produce a decent Wolfsbane Potion as well as Doxycide, a potion of whose usefulness Harry was very aware.
Ginny managed to catch up to Harry the following week, after a long session of Advanced Transfiguration in which they had learned to convert themselves into various items of furniture or bulky textiles, like down coats, thick quilts or curtains, in case they needed a quick disguise.
"Harry, where have you been?" she said in mock accusation. "I haven't seen you in the library or the common room in days. I miss you!"
Harry felt rather put on the spot, with her charging at him like this in the corridors before lunch. He'd been thinking of other things, and needed a moment to catch up to her thinking. She missed him. That was heartwarming, at least. He had been surprisingly busy, given that he had expected to spend the final two weeks of his Hogwarts career outside in the company of friends doing very little that was developmental or productive. He wasn't the only one who was busier than expected. Neville's year-long apprenticeship in the greenhouses had been rewarded with being conscripted by Professor Sprout to plant a huge number of flowers and bushes all over the school grounds. She'd enlisted nearly every student in the upper year Herbology classes and assorted volunteers for the job, as well. The entirety of the castle and grounds now blossomed with oleander, belladonna, daphne, and rhododendron, among many others. Harvested blossoms bedecked every window sill and table, floral perfume filling the air and chasing away the dank, moldy odors that were more typical of the school. Copious clumps of gillyweed were cultivated along the shore of the Black Lake. Vines that had been destroyed in the war were regrown. Clematis and ivy tendrils stretched up the old and newly-repaired walls, further healing the destruction of the previous year. Between wandwork, sun, water, and warmth, the grounds hadn't looked better since the Headmastership of Dame Phyllida Spore.
"It's Snape!" Harry snapped. Snape had finally started to demand more time with him. Harry had wanted this earlier in the year, but now had his mind on other things. How like the Headmaster to finally pay him some attention, just when he was fully ready to simply goof around. "All of a sudden he can't get enough of lecturing me about college, and my future plans, and how to pay for things, and to not be stupid about money, and about how to rent a flat, and how to set up House charms, and all kinds of other boring, practical things. It was like he's trying to squeeze in every last piece of advice he can before I graduate." After having let their relationship lie mostly fallow following their Binding, now Harry was called to the Headmaster's office nearly daily. Every time they met, he left with another pile of "Adult Wizard" things to do, scraps of parchment with the names of rental agents to see about flats, insurance brokers to talk to about death and accidental spell injury insurance, advocates, the name of a good book about home protection charms and domestic spells, the essential Magical houseplants and how to care for them, even one on how to cook without a House Elf. Between what he was learning in classes and the loads of extra information Snape was suddenly trying to dump into his brain outside classes, Harry now had a bit of a panic, realizing that there was a LOT about the adult Magical world they weren't taught in school, that you would presumably get from your Magical parents. How was Hermione going to do all this, with Muggle parents? He'd have to share some of his new information with her. Chances were, though, she'd learned all that her first year from the library. He would need to help Mr. and Mrs. Weasley this summer at the Burrow to get in some practice before he was out on his own. Ginny would have a good laugh watching him and Ron practice laundry charms.
He didn't mind telling Ginny or the others about most of what they talked about. What was harder to discuss were the changes he was noticing in the Headmaster. He was still domineering and demanding, but also more openly concerned for Harry, taking so much of his time to focus on his future. Harry had begun to sense that more and more of Snape's advice was directed towards his own benefit, and not as much not embarrassing Hogwarts or himself as his godfather. This was a significant shift.
Snape would still become impatient with Harry if his mind wandered (which was frequent with such dry subjects and such sunny, warm days), but then stop, rub the bridge of his nose, and bring his tone down to one of mere annoyance, perhaps bordering on tolerance. His face might soften the smallest bit, from furrowed brow and narrowed eye to pensive. The Headmaster tended not to interrupt him as much when he spoke and might actually have been listening when he was speaking. Harry felt emboldened enough to ask questions, few of which were summarily dismissed, but pondered and thoughtfully responded to. Snape would never be to Harry like Sirius was, but from time to time, there may have been some moments of warmth.
Those moments were nearly exclusively those of silence. Despite the vast quantities of knowledge Snape was seeking to impart to him, a surprising amount of their time was spent in silence. Some bit of instruction would bring Snape to a tale of his own younger days, using his experiences as an example, either as a mistake to avoid or as an example of the benefit of skeptical distrust. Perhaps his first apprenticeship and salary negotiation, or a particularly poor choice of a flat. Once the lesson of his story was told (never sign a contract without first casting a Revelio to look for Disappearing Ink and learn enough Plumbing and Water Charms to assess the quality of those systems for yourself), he would stop, looking into the distance, or, more disconcertingly, directly at Harry, and remain mute until Harry shifted in his seat, which seemed to break whatever spell had come over them. Snape would then draw a large breath, shuffle through the parchments, then find some other topic they had not yet covered.
He had been so ever since his sweat. As the days rolled on inevitably to the end of term, the conversations had become a little less like lessons, a little more like an exchange. Harry, too, felt time slipping past him. How much might he have learned if things had been just a little bit different between them? He could only move forward from here, unless he was to use the Time Turner. But who knew what other effects that might have. He decided against it, but instead remained with the Headmaster until he was dismissed. He hoped his friends would understand, despite his own surprise that being in Snape's company might actually be something he would choose.
The morning of the Leaving Feast, after the hasty breakfast of oatmeal and pumpkin juice typical of this day, Harry walked with heavy footsteps to the Headmaster's office, as he had been ordered to do. He'd already packed his things, but it had taken him far longer than usual, as he ran his fingers over the worn and fraying edges of his house tie, sweaters, uniform robes, and scarf. His Firebolt was safely tucked at the bottom of his trunk, along with the map and the cloak. A few scraps of parchment, his books, some quills and a bottle of ink rounded out the set, along with the invitation to return that he'd received last summer. He ran his fingers over the ink; if any residue of the writer's intent had been present, they were long gone. The parchment and ink both were ordinary now, with no presence. He tucked the item in his Advanced Potions textbook and closed the lid. Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were unusually quiet as well, no doubt thinking the same as him. This was the last time they'd share a room, the last day of Hogwarts, not yet the first day of what lay beyond.
Now outside the door, facing the gargoyles, he spoke the password ("moonstone"), entered, and rode the spiral stone staircase upwards.
He expected Snape to be busy with some stack of school business, mired in parchments or books, writing busily, giving the impression of having been interrupted, despite having summoned him, as was his habit. Instead, the desk was clear. Snape rose as Harry entered.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to one of a pair of deep upholstered armchairs opposite the desk. Harry did as commanded, as Snape took the other.
Harry had no idea what he was supposed to say or do. His summer plans at the Burrow were firm, as was his starting at Felbridge in Defence Against the Dark Arts in the fall. He had made arrangements to see a scout from the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team along with both Ginny and Ron near the end of summer, but those were the extent of his plans. Did Snape want to talk about more internships or apprenticeships? Remind him again about how to make a decent offer on a flat? What could possibly be left they hadn't already discussed? He had no idea.
Today, he had arrived hoping this would be over as soon as possible, so he could get back to whatever fooling around was starting in the Common Room. Now, in the presence of his godfather, Harry began to feel like he was losing a part of himself by leaving this place, this wizard.
Snape sat silently, long legs crossed, fingers steepled at his mouth. Snape knew there were words he was supposed to say, some kind of parting wisdom he was expected to impart. He was loathe to spill open his emotions in some kind of sentimental stream; he expected that Harry felt the same. Yet, something was supposed to happen to mark this moment. The end of school days and the beginning of the next phase of Harry's life. A phase that it was not at all certain for some years that Harry, or any other of them, would live to see.
Silence filled the space between them like a fog. Harry didn't know what to say or do. Their two lives had been intertwined since before he was born and would remain so until death. What now, the day of his Leaving? Snape, for his part, shifted in his seat, grimaced slightly, then exhaled, suddenly standing. Harry snapped to attention, as well.
"I shouldn't keep you," he said dismissively. "Go finish your packing or you'll be sure to leave things behind."
Harry paused, trying to think of something, anything, to capture his feelings, to express his complicated evolution through the year. He had expected by now to feel more at ease with his godfather, after all they'd been through, especially lately. He'd been present at his revival, yelled at him about pursuing Dr. Hunter, been with him after the sweat, and spent countless hours in this office, being lectured about their Binding, rent, university, money. Professor Snape had been less insulting, less intimidating, less punitive as the year had progressed, he supposed, but being actually at ease with him might take a while. "Yeah, packing. Still got a lot to do," he echoed uncomfortably. "See you at the Feast, Severus."
Snape winced slightly at this familiarity, but nodded. And Harry was on his way.
Then the hour of the Leaving Feast arrived. Trunks had been packed in great haste, as though no one had time before that morning to get this job done. Compacting spells were the most popular, as suddenly everyone seemed to have acquired far more books, quills, and jumpers than they'd arrived with in the fall. Floo network addresses were shared, college, apprenticeship, and job placements announced.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor House table for what might be his last time. The high ceiling was filled with sun and a few stray clouds, with birds migrating in great flocks to the north. The walls were hung with house banners, which fluttered with the passage of the ghosts through them. He brought to mind his first night here, the terror of this strange world made better by the presence of a new friend. This Magical place had somehow become ordinary in his time here, as had so many other Magical things.
"Wonder when we can get out of here," Ron grumbled through a mouth full of roasted chicken and peas. "The Express won't wait forever."
Hermione served herself another helping of boiled baby red potatoes covered in steaming butter. "Don't worry, Ron. The train won't leave without you."
"And if it does, you can see if the Headmaster has a spare room until Mum and Dad can get up here to get you," Ginny said as Ron glared at her. "Might take a few weeks, though. But you'd get to know each other well."
Further speculation on Ron and Snape was temporarily suspended due to the arrival of the dessert courses. A five-layer chocolate cake topped with roses and butterflies competed with a layered trifle with peaches, cherries, and blueberries topped with whipped cream. For a time, only the sound of spoons on dishes and satisfied bellies could be heard.
As the last remaining traces of cake and trifle were vanishing into mouths, Professor Snape rose from the staff table and walked slowly to the lectern.
"At least he doesn't have a handful of parchments," Ron noted hopefully.
"I doubt that will limit him much," Neville noted. Ron nodded glumly.
Silence filled the hall more completely than the noisy conversations had. The dishes vanished, leaving only the students themselves, waiting for his speech. The staff, likewise, sat in respectful silence, the sounds of his boots on the stones and the swish of his robes alone in the air.
His face was grave, though untinged with anger or impatience. His voice, usually a mixture of gruff declamation and sarcasm, now had an unusual note of contemplative softness to it when he and Harry spoke together in his office. Here, though, his old habits of speech seemed to return.
"We now come to the Leaving," he began, his voice resonating in the hall despite his not shouting at all. Harry was reminded of the first words he heard from Snape, in Potions class. His voice had been a tool that he'd wielded like a weapon, savagely cutting through students like a knife through boomslang skin. Still his tone was low. As he spoke, his eyes scanned the tables, taking in each student one after another.
"Together, this year and in the years before, you've all learned an impressive amount of Magic, guided by your able teachers and supported by your friends. Defense, conjuring, transfiguration, brewing, divining, and spell-casting, all these you've explored. Some you've mastered, others remain a work in progress." Harry groaned inside. Long-standing habits may be difficult to change, but he'd felt that something within Snape had changed for the better this year, especially since the sweat. Now he seemed to be back to where he'd begun eight years ago.
Snape continued, a sneer creeping around his mouth. "For those about to exit the halls of Hogwarts, I would echo what I and the rest of the Hogwarts staff have been telling you for the past 7 or 8 years: Rise to your potential, for doing anything less would embarrass yourselves, but more to the point, embarrass the staff, myself, and institution of Hogwarts."
Harry hung his head and rolled his eyes. How many times had heard this speech or some variation of it, always when he was on the embarrassing side of his "potential." After all he'd seen this year, and Severus Snape was still in classic form, castigating the entire school. Not even for things they'd done or not done, but in some future, as yet undefined but certain disappointment. He glanced to the staff table, who must surely be as disappointed by this tone for the Leaving Feast, usually a festive occasion. All their faces were impassive, except for Dr. Hunter's. She looked at Snape with admiration. What could you expect, after all? If your fiance can't be your unconditional champion at all times, who could?
"At least the food was good," Ron muttered. Neville remained as difficult to read as the teachers, while Ginny gave a wan smile. Hermione, as ever, remained at attention.
"I will continue to follow your progress even after you leave these grounds, keeping an eye on you as you progress in life, assuming that progress is, in fact, your trajectory. I will also be measuring your success, to see if you've made good use of what you've learned in the past 7 or 8 years." At this, Harry noted a number of raised eyebrows on the staff table, particularly Professor McGonagall, but no other outwards signs of agreement or dissent. Snape paused and looked out across the faces, many of which did not hide their obvious dissent. The sneer, so familiar, continued to build around his mouth as he continued.
"How will I measure your success, you might ask, should you be among the few who care about such things? How will you know you are doing well, living up to the standards set by Hogwarts and myself? You might look to your bank account, your accumulation of gold." Now Hermione could not hold back her look of disgust. "Heaps of galleons, sickles, and knuts can bring a feeling of satisfaction and superiority. Should you find yourself with a bit extra, I would encourage you to remember what made your success possible. No, not your own talents, hard work, or the advantages of a wealthy family. This school. Do consider a donation." The stony faces were unmoved.
"Perhaps you'll strive for the accumulation of power, enjoying the ever-increasing range of your influence and titles. Perhaps you'll seek important places in the Ministry of Magic, teaching, or as a master of apprentices. At some time, you may experience the pleasure of watching another squirm with dread, knowing you hold the key to their misery or joy." Harry had now moved from mere annoyance himself, to an acute feeling of betrayal, particularly as the Slytherin table grinned maliciously. Snape was appealing to the worst of their impulses, encouraging their basest motivations. Then he added, "If life doesn't serve up your opportunity to rule over others, you can always have children of your own." Harry cast a glance at Hermione, who was slack-jawed with disbelief, then to Dr. Hunter. Snape had worked so hard to chase her off for most of the year, now he was making heartless statements about exerting one's desire for power against one's own children. She would surely be livid, but she remained impassive, her attention still focused on him. The rest of the staff looked on the verge of revolt, casting one another worried and angry glances.
"Fame, too, could be yours. Yes, imagine your face on magazines, your names in the papers, on the covers of books. Invest in your good looks or cultivate a lack of concern for factual accuracy and fame may come quicker. Perhaps followed in short order by money and power."
"Land, material goods, fame, any or perhaps even all of these could be a measure of success." The staff now seemed on the verge of outright revolt, only Morgan Hunter grinning in admiration. She was losing a lot of respect in Harry's eyes. Was she really the gold-digger the papers had implied? Did she not know Snape was nearly knutless?
Snape stopped, glaring smugly out across the crowd until the angry murmuring had ceased. "I can assure you," he said silkily in a low voice that commanded attention, "those who would seek to measure their success and the success of others by these measures will certainly suffer my displeasure."
Moments of silence passed as everyone fully took in this surprising statement. Staff and students alike cast each other confused glances. Snape remained silent, but his sneer had become instead a look of wry humor, a look few had ever seen on the Headmaster.
"Many before you have measured human value by galleons, sickles and knuts, only to discover that money is a fickle and unsatisfying companion. Even those with plenty find that friends won by attraction to money flee quickly when a better opportunity presents itself, as it always does. With only money as your goal, you will find yourself in a never-ending pursuit of more, eternally dissatisfied and restless." Harry hadn't noticed how tense he'd become in the first part of Snape's speech, but now felt his shoulders releasing some tension and resuming their normal slouch.
"The problems of those who seek ever greater power as well as those who seek to retain power whatever the cost have played themselves out in the past few years. You can see the damage done yourselves in this very castle, with its broken stones and missing friends and family. But love of power can take more subtle forms, in lesser situations. Bullies of all stripes find pleasure in discovering the vulnerabilities of others and exploiting them for their entertainment and advantage, even in the adult world. The lure of persecution of the weak can be strong to those who have been the target of such bullying themselves and seek to take revenge on other innocents, so easy to do, rather than take on their oppressors, a much more formidable task."
Harry scanned the faces of those nearby him to see if they were understanding what Snape was meaning as much as he was. Snape was getting personal. His own wide-eyed astonishment was shared by the others, as they sat silently and still. Snape continued, his voice building.
"And fame. How many famous witches and wizards have lived up to their reputations? Very few, as you well know. Fame is fleeting, leaving the formerly famous with a sense of loss and abandonment."
"There are many ways to measure success in the Magical world. But the true measure of success is found in the strength and depth of the circle of love that surrounds you."
Ron groaned audibly.
"Here we go," he muttered. "He'll be talking for hours, now that he's finally found someone who can tolerate him." Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville all cast him a look of reproachment.
"Careful, Ron, or you'll be losing the one who can tolerate you," Harry said, with a meaningful glance at Hermione.
Snape had stopped speaking for a moment, still looking to the students. His eyes rested from time to time in between students, at empty chairs.
"Yes, love." His voice now rose, becoming stronger, more urgent. Everyone in the Great Hall sat stunned, including the staff. "For this is what we were fighting for in the war and what we shall continue to fight for," he said forcefully, punctuating his words with his fingers on the lectern. "The love of family, of friends. Those with us, and more so, those no longer with us. For the moral obligation now rests with us, to make good on the sacrifice they made. To finish the work they started and build a world built on the values they cherished. Equality, friendship, and love."
Now his voice dropped once again. "Surely, to fight for love seems much easier than the fight for money or power or fame, but to find love and nurture it requires far more time, patience, and skill than any other pursuit. Love obtained by money, power, force, or potions is false, a mere shadow of the real thing. We may allow ourselves to be deluded into believing these are real, but the truth will out eventually. Real love must be earned, cultivated, and valued to a greater degree than money, fame, or power. It cannot be taken, only given, and must never be taken for granted. But the returns on giving love are so much greater than the interest earned on a monetary loan or the quid pro quo of negotiations, for love never grows more than when it is given away. It can, in fact, grow only when given away." Harry now found himself grinning. Dr. Hunter either knew his speech beforehand or had far more confidence in Snape than he did. It would take time to cultivate trust in him, but he would continue to try.
The Headmaster continued. "Be open, my fellow witches and wizards, to love. To give and, if you are not only worthy but also fortunate, to receive. Never lose hope, for love can arise from the most unexpected of people and from the most hopeless of situations. To all of you, I wish you success, measured in peace and love."
The Headmaster waved his wand in a great circle above his head, releasing thousands of butterflies from the vines on the walls and the flowers on the tables. Wherever they landed, more flowers opened. Those that landed on robes left behind a tiny corsage or boutonniere. Those that landed on chairs left behind a pink carnation. Several landed in Dr. Hunter's hair, leaving behind a circlet of belladonna. Delighted gasps filled the hall as student delighted in the colorful dance everywhere in the room.
"Just like after the sweat lodge," Neville remarked in awe. "Who would have thought it was Professor Snape?"
The Headmaster then swung his wand towards to the doors, which crashed open with a bang into the Entrance Hall, then out onto the lawn. The butterflies took their cue and flew out in a swarm, followed by a renewed blossoming of the plants across the grounds. The carriages were lined up there, piled high with trunks and drawn by thestrals adorned with cypress, willow, and rosemary branches. Younger students squealed and ran into the sun, summer term having just begun.
The older students remained, giving hugs, handshakes, and back slaps all around. House affiliations seemed to fade away, as Gryffindors bade farewell to their Slytherin friends and Ravenclaws wished their Hufflepuff companions good luck and to keep in touch. The staff lined up at the door out to the carriages, with an unusual amount of liquid in their eyes as the students shook their hands and departed.
Professor Snape brought up the rear, ushering out the last of the stragglers, reminding them that the trains would not wait even for graduating students and they best get going or be conscripted to remain here for an extra month or two, assisting the House Elves in cleaning the kitchens and himself in preparing the reptile supplies.
Harry approached and offered his hand, which Snape shook with a small trace of a smile. "See you in a few weeks, Severus."
"Try to keep yourself and your friends out of trouble until then, Harry," he replied.
The first of the carriages had begun to roll down the road to Hogsmeade then, so Harry said no more. Ginny was waving from a carriage near the end. With one last wave, he boarded the carriage and was gone.
Snape's eyes followed the carriages as they circled the lake until they vanished through the gates into the village, rattling in a cloud of dust toward the train station. The bright sun must have fogged his vision, accustomed as it was to many years in the dungeons. Morgan grasped his hand as he covered his eyes, and he allowed himself to be led back inside.