SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER
Severus had spent months bracing himself for the announcement, though it was still jarring to see his face on the front page of the Daily Prophet. He didn't bother to read the article, sighing as he handed the paper back to Lupin.
"What's the consensus?"
"Treason," Lupin said. "They believe you've spent the summer planning a coup."
"Good. That is what they're supposed to think."
It was, though he couldn't help feeling stung. His supposed allies had turned against him at the first opportunity, more than willing to believe the worst. Had any of them considered, even for a second, that there might be another explanation? He doubted it, swallowing his disappointment as Harry trudged into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Harry."
Harry grunted, glancing briefly at Lupin before he plopped down at the table. "Anything to eat?"
"Eggs and toast."
"Sounds good."
Severus fixed him a plate, setting it in front of him along with a glass of pumpkin juice. He poured himself another cup of coffee, eyeing Lupin over the rim as he took a sip.
"Was there something else?"
"Hogwarts," Lupin said. "I'm sure you have a lot of preparations to make. You'll be quite busy, even more so when the school year starts."
"So?"
"They'll need someone to look after them."
"Yes, well, I'll come by as often as I can."
"It will be hard to get away, even harder to explain your absences. You must realize that."
Severus didn't like Lupin's tone, nor the implication that his efforts would be insufficient. Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do? It wasn't as if he could be two places at once.
"What are you suggesting?" he said coldly. "That I allow the Carrows to run the school? Do you have the faintest idea how brutal…"
"No!" Lupin interrupted, shaking his head emphatically. "No, that's not what I meant at all. Severus, I know how important it is that you take over as headmaster. That's why I'm offering myself in your place, someone who can be here around the clock."
"You want to move in?" Harry frowned.
"Yes, Harry, if you'll have me. You know what I am, the protection I can offer if it comes to that. You'll be much safer…"
"And your wife?" Severus said. "How does she factor into this little plan of yours?"
"She doesn't."
It wasn't just what Lupin said. It was the way he said it, his voice cold and dismissive. Had Nymphadora come to her senses and rejected him, then? A wise decision, though unfortunate that she'd chosen to marry him first.
"What do you mean?" Harry said. "Wouldn't she be coming, too?"
"Tonks will be staying with her parents."
"But why? We love having her around, and you know she likes to be in the thick of things. Why would you leave her behind?"
"Maybe she's the one who left him," Severus suggested.
"She did not…" Lupin trailed off, his face turning red. "She… she…"
"Come on, Lupin. Spit it out."
"She's going to have a baby!"
"A baby?" Harry stared at him, obviously bewildered. "But that's wonderful news!"
"Unless it isn't his."
Severus had gone too far. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth, not surprised to find a wand pointing at his face. What did surprise him was Harry's reaction, a rustle of fabric followed by a shout of 'Expelliarmus!' Lupin stumbled backward, hitting the wall with a thud.
"Harry…"
"I'm sorry, Remus, but you were threatening him."
"Only because he said…"
"Well, what's he supposed to think with the way you're acting?"
Deep down, Severus already knew what was bothering Lupin, though it still sickened him to hear his response. It was pathetic, to say the least, a long-winded, self pitying rant about his condition and the stigma involved, the impact it would have on his family.
"So," he said. "You think the best solution is to abandon your pregnant wife and move in with a bunch of teenagers?"
"She'll be better off without me. They both will."
He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his temper under control. Harry was clearly having the same problem, green eyes eerily similar to his mother's as they narrowed into slits.
"So you're not just a liar," Harry said. "You're a coward, too."
Lupin flinched, his expression bordering on deranged. He advanced a couple steps, only to stop as Severus positioned himself between them.
"How dare you? You can't possibly know what it's like…"
"Maybe not, but I do know what it's like to grow up without parents!"
"That's different, Harry."
"Yeah, it is, and do you know why? My parents didn't have a choice. My mom died to protect me, and my dad…"
"I was shut out of their lives," Severus said, "thanks to the machinations of your despicable friends. I lost everything, kept in the dark for 16 years, and you have the audacity to stand there whinging about your hardships?"
Lubin shook his head, his expression caught between resentment and shame. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Of course not. What would I know about becoming a parent under difficult circumstances, worrying about the repercussions that might have for my son? Half the Wizarding world believes I'm a traitor, possibly a murderer, yet I'm still here. Why? Because I'm his father. My job is to fulfill that role to the best of my ability, no matter how imperfect I might be."
"All right, Severus. I get your point."
"You'll go back to them, then?"
"I don't know, Harry, I…" Lupin suddenly looked tired, sighing heavily as he dropped into the closest chair. He glanced around the kitchen, as if some small part of him was still hoping he'd be allowed to move in.
"You owe me."
"Owe you? For what?"
"You lied to me," Harry said. "You let them get away with it, then you lied to me for years."
"I didn't let them… Harry, I had no idea what they were up to."
"With the Vow? Maybe not, but you knew about all sorts of stuff before that. What about the bullying, or the way James was tricking my mum? Did you ever try to warn her? Did you tell any of the professors what was really going on?"
Lupin opened his mouth, only to close it as he glanced at Severus. Finally, he shook his head, his eyes returning to Harry.
"You're right," he said. "I should've done more. I don't know if that would've made a difference, but…"
"That's the point, isn't it? We'll never know, all because you were too afraid to do what was right."
Severus remained silent, impressed by Harry's tactics. The connection he was drawing was as accurate as it was effective, playing on Lupin's guilt in ways that Severus himself couldn't have done. Of course, Lupin's inaction had harmed them both, but Harry… the bond he shared with Lupin allowed him to drive the knife in just a little bit deeper, inflicting wounds that couldn't be ignored.
"I made mistakes, Harry. Terrible mistakes. Believe me, if I could go back…"
"You made mistakes," Harry said, "but you haven't learned from them. That's why you're here, isn't it? Easier to pretend that something isn't happening than stick around and deal with it."
Twisted, perhaps, but Severus had never been prouder of his son. It was a masterful stroke, one that brought Lupin to his knees. He didn't bother to defend himself, voice muffled as he buried his head in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for James and Sirius, sorry about your mum, and…"
"I don't want you to be sorry," Harry interrupted. "I want you to make things right."
"How?"
"Go home to Tonks. Take care of her and the baby, make sure that another kid doesn't have to grow up without a father. If you can do that… I might be able to forgive you for everything else."
Lupin didn't respond, avoiding their eyes as he reached for his cloak. He'd never looked older, more tired, yet Severus sensed a change in that moment, studying his posture as he headed toward the foyer. His shoulders were straighter, chin lifted, as if he'd finally found the spine he'd been lacking since… well, ever since Severus had known him, really. He opened the front door, closing it behind him with a soft click.
"Do you think that was unfair?"
"You didn't say anything that wasn't true. Besides…"
Severus trailed off, whipping out his wand as he rose from his chair. There was a crash, followed by a string of curses… the commotion was coming from the sitting room, the sound of an unfamiliar voice making his blood run cold.
"Stay here," he hissed.
"But…"
"Master!" Kreacher howled. "Master, come quickly!"
"The Ministry will have your head for this, you despicable little beast! How dare you…"
This time, he recognized the speaker, hurrying down the hall with Harry close on his heels. He wanted to send him back to the kitchen, but it was too late for that. Dolores Umbridge had already spotted him, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.
"Where's her wand?" Severus said urgently. "Give it to me."
"Kreacher doesn't take orders from…"
"Kreacher, I command you to do whatever he says!"
Harry had to shout to be heard. Umbridge had already resumed her screaming, threatening to bring not just the Ministry but Voldemort himself down on their heads. It only stopped when Weasley and Granger entered the fray, the latter silencing her with a hastily whispered spell.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. Now where is her wand?"
"Kreacher doesn't have it."
"No?" Severus said, peering down at the house elf. "Where did it go?"
"Broken. Kreacher left it on the floor."
"What floor?" Granger said gently. "Kreacher, where did you find her?"
"Kreacher doesn't answer to anyone but…"
"Kreacher…" Harry sighed, obviously struggling for patience. "I know you're loyal to me, and I appreciate it, but I really need your help."
"Of course. Anything Master needs."
"When any of these three ask you a question, I need you to respond quickly and truthfully. Can you do that for me?"
Kreacher nodded, executing a low bow before he turned to Hermione. "Pink house. Lots of cats."
Belatedly, Severus realized that Umbridge was wearing a dressing gown, a clear sign that she hadn't been taken from the Ministry. The house elf had followed Harry's instructions to the letter… well, with the exception of bringing her here of all places.
"Has she got the locket?"
"Good question, Mr. Weasley." Severus stepped forward, only to hiss as he felt a sharp, prickling sensation on the palm of his hand. He glanced down, spotting a single word etched in a strange, girlish script.
TRAITOR
"Bloody hell," Harry said. "I thought she needed her quill for that."
"Quill? What quill?"
"The one she made me use in detention."
"She cut you?"
"Yeah, a bunch of times. She made me write lines over and over, and…"
He didn't need to finish. The implication was clear, Severus's blood boiling as he turned back to Umbridge. It didn't help that she'd hexed him again, this time carving three words into his skin.
HE DESERVED IT
"Sectumsempra!"
Several gashes appeared on Umbridge's chest, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Blood, so much blood… Severus hadn't intended to be so brutal, though he couldn't bring himself to regret it either.
"The locket!" Granger said.
"I see it."
He leaned down, ripping the locket from around Umbridge's neck as she lay there gasping, bleeding…
"Don't," Harry whispered.
"What?"
"Don't let her die."
"You want me to save her?" Severus said. "She'll expose us both to the Dark Lord if given the chance."
"I know, but can't we erase her memories or something? It just doesn't seem right, killing someone when we don't have to."
"Eh, let her die," Weasley said. "It's no more than she deserves."
For once, Severus agreed with Weasley, though he couldn't ignore Harry either. His compassion might have been misguided, but… well, he had a point. There were other, more creative ways to deal with Umbridge, assuming he acted quickly. She'd already lost consciousness, skin so pale it was almost translucent.
"Your call," he told Harry.
"Save her."
He nodded, chanting in a low, singsong voice as he performed the countercurse. He followed that up with a bit of Blood Replenisher, watching Umbridge's cheeks turn ruddy as she opened her eyes.
"Can I do it?"
"Do what, Miss Granger?"
"Erase her memories."
Clearly, Umbridge didn't like this suggestion. Granger winced, her right hand balling into a fist.
"Let me see," Severus said.
He wished he hadn't asked, barely able to control his fury as Granger uncurled her fingers. The word "Mudblood" was etched deep into her skin, underscored by a thin trickle of blood.
"Hex her again," he said, baring his teeth at Umbridge. "Hex any of us again, and I will kill you."
She shrank back, though she still looked defiant, features twisting into the most ugly scowl he'd ever seen.
"Muffliato," he said, turning back to Granger. "Now what were you saying?"
"I asked if I could erase her memories."
"In this case, it will need to be done flawlessly. I'm not sure you have the experience…"
"I've been studying how to do it for ages," she said. "I even know how to replace old memories with new ones."
Severus was skeptical, though he supposed it wouldn't hurt to let her try. So what if she botched it? He could always step in and correct her mistakes.
"Very well, Miss Granger, though allow me to prepare her first."
"Prepare her?"
"You'll have a greater chance of success if she's… compliant."
Without warning, he spun on his heel, pointing his wand at Umbridge. "Confundus!"
It was easier than he'd expected, probably because she'd been weakened by his earlier attack. Her eyes grew hazy, unfocused, lips moving soundlessly as she repeated his instructions. He removed the Silencing Charm, just to be sure…
"I mustn't resist," she said in a monotone voice. "Terrible things will happen if I do."
"Tell her the centaurs will get her," Granger whispered.
"Centaurs?"
"Trust me."
Soon enough, Umbridge was fully under his control, though he knew it couldn't last. He moved aside, motioning for Granger to step forward.
"Do it."
She nodded, lifting her wand. "Obliviate."
Clearly, he'd underestimated her. He recognized that a few minutes later, searching Umbridge's memories for any sign of her former life. Nothing, not even the smallest fragment…
"A sheep herder?" He smirked, lowering his wand as he withdrew.
"She won't be around children," Granger pointed out. "Or people at all, really. Isn't that what we want?"
"Yes, though it certainly helps that you made her Australian. Sending her to a different continent…"
"Australia?" Weasley's eyes widened. "How are we supposed to get her to Australia? It's not like we can just walk into the Ministry and order up a Portkey!"
"Easy," Granger said. "She'll be flying."
"On a broom?"
Severus snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Airplane, Mr. Weasley. In this situation, Muggle methods are both safer and more practical."
Umbridge mumbled something unintelligible, still dazed from Granger's manipulations. She blinked slowly at first, then furiously, shaking her head as her eyes came into focus.
"W-Who are you?"
"Wow," Weasley said. "She even sounds different."
That was an understatement. Her voice had completely transformed, no trace of that shrill, imperious tone. Instead, she spoke softly in a thick Australian accent, her eyes filled with bewilderment rather than malice.
"I'm Holly," Granger said. "What's your name?"
"E-Edith. Edith Wellington."
"Nice to meet you, Edith. Would you like to go home?"
It wasn't difficult. Two changes of clothes, a couple vials of Polyjuice… Severus took "Edith" to the airport, careful to erase those last, fleeting glimpses of Grimmauld Place. He replaced them with the most miserable holiday he could imagine, guaranteeing that she wouldn't be tempted to return to England anytime soon.
He stayed long enough to make sure she got on the plane, watching it depart before he Disapparated. By then, it was close to midnight, the house silent as he ascended the stairs. He looked in on Harry, on Weasley, relieved to find them fast asleep.
"Professor Snape?"
He jumped, looking over his shoulder at Granger.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
She shrugged. "I'm not tired."
He knew the feeling, nerves still thrumming with energy despite the late hour. It had been an eventful day, to say the least, the type that required at least a couple hours to unwind.
"Come with me."
She didn't ask questions, following close on his heels as he headed downstairs. He went straight to the kitchen, filling the teapot and setting it to boil before he grabbed a tin of biscuits from the cabinet.
"Thanks," Granger said as he handed her a cup. He fixed one for himself, joining her at the table.
"When will it wear off?"
"The Polyjuice?"
"Yeah."
"Soon."
He'd run out of antidote, reminding himself to brew more at the first opportunity. Granted, he didn't love his real appearance, but it was preferable to his current one. He'd taken on the guise of a stout, middle-aged man, lank black hair replaced by a shiny bald head.
"So what happened?" she said. "Everything go all right?"
"Perfectly fine. Umbridge…"
"Edith."
"Edith," he corrected, "is on her way to Australia. Of course, she won't know what to do with herself when she gets there, but that isn't our problem."
"Maybe not, but I still feel sorry for her."
"Why?"
"I don't know, I just…"
"What do you think she would've done if the situation was reversed? Would any of us have been given a reprieve, free to live out our lives in relative safety?"
"Fair enough," Granger said. "Anyway, I'm glad it was her and not my parents."
"Your parents?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that's why I learned how to do all that stuff. I thought if I could send them away, give them different identities…"
"They'd be protected?"
She nodded.
"That seems drastic. Effective, but drastic."
"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"
"Oh, I don't know. Ask the Order for assistance?"
As soon as he said it, Severus felt foolish, recalling various incidents over the past six years. How many times had Dumbledore insisted that the trio be left to their own devices, refusing to step in unless there was no other choice?
"I wasn't sure…"
"No, I suppose not. You've been taught to rely on yourself."
She didn't answer, though of course, she didn't need to. He'd experienced it himself on numerous occasions, unable to intervene on their behalf. Why? Because Dumbledore hadn't allowed it. No straight answers, no easy solutions… better to fill their heads with vague clues and cryptic remarks, leaving them with the impression that the adults around them were either incompetent or untrustworthy.
"You set my robes on fire."
"What?"
"My robes."
Her eyes widened. "You remember that?"
"I was on fire, Miss Granger. One typically doesn't forget such things."
"Right. Well, I shouldn't have…"
"You stole from my supply closet, too."
"I'm sorry, I just…"
He shook his head. "I don't want your apologies."
"So why bring it up?"
"Because," he said, "the past is relevant. Whether we like it or not, certain behaviors are hard to unlearn."
"Don't worry, Professor Snape. I'm not going to set you on fire again."
He laughed out loud, such a rare occurrence that the sound startled them both. It took him a minute to compose himself, still chuckling as he refilled their teacups.
"I should hope not, though that wasn't my point. I was referring to the three of you acting on your own, planning and scheming without input or guidance."
"We only did that because…"
"Yes, but things are different now." He paused, taking a sip of tea. "We can't hope to survive what's coming unless we learn to trust one another."
"I trust you," she said. "After everything, I'd be stupid not to."
"Yes, well, tell that to Weasley."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about Ron. He's just stubborn."
"Stubborn," Severus said, "undisciplined, occasionally unpredictable. Sometimes I wish…"
Honestly? He wished Weasley had stayed behind, though there was no point in saying so. It would only put her on the defensive, potentially damaging their newfound trust.
"Wish what, Professor Snape?"
"That he was more inclined to learn from your example. It would benefit us all if he listened to you more often."
"Did you just…"
"Just what?"
"That almost sounded like a compliment."
The disbelief in her voice was jarring, though of course, he had no one to blame but himself. He'd spent six years diminishing or outright ignoring her achievements, avoiding even the faintest hint of praise.
"Yes, well, don't let it go to your head."
She smiled, her cheeks turning pink. "I won't."
Both the Polyjuice and adrenaline had worn off, his face once again shielded by curtains of black hair. He stifled a yawn, glancing at the clock as he rose from the table.
"It's late, Miss Granger. We should both get some sleep."
"Professor Snape?"
He paused, shooting her an inquisitive look.
"What you said… you know, about things being different now?"
"Yes?"
"Maybe it would help if you didn't…" She trailed off, the kitchen descending into awkward silence.
"Didn't what, Miss Granger?"
"Didn't call me that. Not that I mind," she said hurriedly. "It's just…"
Suddenly, he understood, recalling all the years he'd addressed her that way. He'd been her teacher. She'd been his student. Certain formalities were only to be expected.
"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."
Expected or not, the name had negative connotations. He'd used it when he'd mocked her, used it while delivering punishments or snarling orders. It had positioned him as an authority figure, a name he'd used time and again to put her in her place.
"Shall I call you 'Hermione' instead?"
She nodded. "If you don't mind."
Strange though it felt, he was glad to have an alternative. It separated the past from the present, a small yet important step in redefining their roles in each other's lives. No more adult versus child, teacher versus student…
"I don't mind, though I would ask that you return the favor."
Her eyes widened. "You want me to call you…"
"Severus," he said. "Or Snape, if that is what you prefer."
"But…"
"We're allies now. It's time we addressed each other as such."
At first, she didn't respond, moving to help him as he gathered the teacups. She put the remaining biscuits back in the cabinet, turning to leave only to glance back over her shoulder.
"Good night… Severus."
He inclined his head. "Good night, Hermione."
Hogwarts was as silent as a tomb, no trace of sound beyond the echo of Severus's footsteps. He strode through the halls, pausing as he reached the stairs to the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore was dead. He'd seen it for himself, yet some small part of him still had trouble believing it was real. He couldn't imagine entering that office without finding Dumbledore inside, his presence as permanent as the castle itself.
Foolish, illogical, yet it was the only reality he'd ever known. He didn't know how to let it go, nor what Hogwarts would look like moving forward.
Still, he had no choice but to proceed, holding his breath as he ascended the stairs. He stepped into the office, sighing heavily as he spotted the mountain of scrolls on Dumbledore's desk.
No, not Dumbledore's. It was his desk now, his responsibility to maintain order in the midst of chaos. Just the thought of it was exhausting… he tapped the desk with the tip of his wand, ordering up a pot of coffee.
"Good morning, Severus."
"Dumbledore," he said, pretending nonchalance as he glanced up at the portrait. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the twinkle in the painted blue eyes.
"That was a fine trick you pulled, thwarting my plans at the last minute."
"You left me no choice."
"Ah, but you did have a choice. You chose not to use the Killing Curse, despite my reservations, chose to give me a vial of poison instead. I was quite willing to take it…"
"Under false pretenses," Severus interrupted, "which I could not allow."
"Yes, that is the part that intrigues me. Why were you so adamant that I tell Harry the truth? Why, when it would've been far safer to let him think…"
"That I was a murderer?"
The portrait nodded.
"My reasons are irrelevant," Severus said stiffly. "In any case, our plan remains intact."
"So Lord Voldemort believes…"
"Yes, which is why I'm preparing to take over as headmaster. That's what you wanted, is it not?"
"It is, Severus, though I still have questions."
"Questions that I will not answer. Shall we move on?"
The portrait tried to argue, though it was a useless effort. Severus had the power now, something he chose to demonstrate by leaving the room. Such a simple act, yet it spoke volumes, highlighting the portrait's limitations. This version of Dumbledore couldn't follow him, nor could it command him to return. It was just a painting, after all, unable to issue orders or dictate his actions.
"Now," he said when he returned a few minutes later. "Where were we?"
Predictably, the portrait was evasive, just like its real life counterpart. It did tell Severus where to find the sword, though of course, there was no explanation as to why Harry might need it. As for Harry himself…
"I'm sorry, Severus, but I cannot tell you where he is. As a matter of safety, both his and yours…"
Dumbledore trailed off, interrupted by a snort from another portrait. It took Severus a minute to figure out where it had come from, though when he did, his blood ran cold. Phineas Nigellus Black. How had he forgotten? The old headmaster had a second portrait at Grimmauld Place, one he was rumored to visit quite often. What had he seen? What had he heard? Had he told Dumbledore…
"Oh, stop with your cryptic nonsense. You have no idea where that boy is hiding."
Dumbledore's portrait raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, Phineas? And how would you know?"
"You said it yourself just last week."
Phineas Black returned his attention to Severus, shooting him a meaningful look. He didn't say a word, though he didn't need to, the glint in his eyes making it clear that Severus's secret was safe. Why? Severus couldn't begin to understand it, nor was he in a position to ask. All he could do was sigh in relief, his body relaxing as he turned back to Dumbledore.
"And how am I supposed to give him the sword without knowing his location?"
"You'll figure it out when the time comes."
"Helpful," Phineas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"When the time comes," Severus said slowly. "You mean when he's ready to destroy a Horcrux?"
Dumbledore's reaction was even better than he'd expected. The portrait looked dumbfounded, mouth dropping open for the briefest moment before he managed to recover.
"Horcrux? Severus, what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the diary," he said, "the ring that stole your life, long before you took that poison. Then there's the locket…"
"Locket?"
"Yes, the one you retrieved from the cave. Pity you went to all that trouble, though of course, you couldn't have known it was fake."
For several minutes, the portrait was silent, painted blue eyes boring into Severus's black ones. Dumbledore seemed to be fighting an internal battle, panic at war with his determination to control the situation.
"How?"
"How do I know?" Severus shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The point is that I know."
"Doesn't matter? The fate of the entire Wizarding world…"
"I know other things, too. We haven't even begun to discuss the rest of the Horcruxes, including the one that resides in Harry himself."
The portrait had gone stark white, nostrils flaring as it searched for a response. Realizing he had the advantage, Severus went in for the kill.
"Then there's the matter of the Deathly Hallows…"
He hadn't known for sure, though one look at Dumbledore's face was enough to confirm his suspicions. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, painted features smoothing out into an expressionless mask.
"Fictitious legends from a children's book?"
"A book you left to Miss Granger in your will."
"I was a sentimental old fool, Severus, as you well know. That book was a cherished possession from my childhood, one I wished to pass down to someone who'd appreciate it."
Severus didn't press the issue. He didn't need to, really. He'd accomplished what he'd set out to do, while making it quite clear that he was the one with the upper hand. It was an intoxicating feeling, all the more so as he recalled the past six years. How many times had he been left wanting, desperate for answers that Dumbledore refused to give?
"You've been spying on them."
"No."
"Confundus Charm?"
He shook his head. "Try again."
The portrait continued to speculate, wondering if Harry or one of his friends had let something slip. If they'd told someone and that person had been captured, tortured…
"He doesn't know," Severus said, "nor do any of his followers."
Dumbledore closed his eyes, sighing in relief. "I'm glad to hear it, Severus, though that still doesn't answer my question."
How satisfying it would've been to keep him guessing, stringing him along with vague clues and cryptic remarks. Severus didn't have the patience, however, suddenly eager to get to the point.
"I know about the Horcruxes because you told me."
"I didn't…"
"You did," he said. "Right here in this office. You said that a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul attached itself to Harry, that it lives inside him. Granted, I didn't know you were referring to a Horcrux, though I was able to figure that out with a bit of research."
The portrait nodded. "And the others?"
"It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together. What happened with the diary is common knowledge, and the ring…"
"You couldn't have known about the locket."
"I didn't," Severus said. "Not until Harry told me."
The portrait's eyes narrowed, lips compressing into a tight line. When it spoke, it did so with barely controlled fury, a tone that would've been frightening had Dumbledore still been alive.
"What did you do, Severus? We both know he wouldn't have told you willingly. Did you lie to him? Threaten him? Bully him into submission?"
"I told him the truth."
"Truth? What truth?"
"The truth. Let's leave it at that."
"But why, Severus? Did you do it just to satisfy your curiosity? Surely you must realize how dangerous this is, why I never told you…"
"Ah, yes. Something about not wanting to put all your eggs in one basket?"
"Yes, which is more important now than ever. If Lord Voldemort were to find out…"
"He won't," Severus said. "Not from me."
Indeed, his mind was filled with secrets, many of which he'd been able to keep hidden for decades. Did Dumbledore honestly think that one more would make a difference? He would've been dead long ago if there was even the slightest weakness in his defenses.
"That's reassuring, Severus, though I must insist that you keep your distance."
"From Harry?"
Dumbledore nodded. "He has his own part to play, which is quite different than yours. It is crucial to let him proceed without interference."
"I disagree."
"Severus, you must understand…"
"What, that you prefer to let him fend for himself? Trust me, I know. All those times you refused to let me intervene on his behalf…"
"He needed to try his strength. What would he have learned if we'd been there to shield him from every possible threat?"
"There were other, safer ways to teach him," Severus said, "though that's neither here nor there. The point is, I will not leave him to his own devices. I intend to assist him whenever and however I see fit."
"You wish to help? Then stick to our agreement. Your place is here at Hogwarts, a role that is no less important than his. You're the only one who can look after the school, Severus, who can ensure that the students are protected."
"You say that as if it's one or the other. I am perfectly capable of doing both."
"Harry has been well prepared," the portrait said tersely. "I gave him everything he needs to complete his task, and he has two companions who have proven time and again that they can be trusted. Any disruption from you will only hinder their efforts, spoiling my carefully laid plans. Is that what you want? Are you willing to lose this war just to prove a point?"
Once, Severus might've been swayed by that argument. He would've assumed Dumbledore knew far more than he did, willing to submit to his superior judgment. Now? It was easy to see through the facade, realizing that what Dumbledore truly feared was loss of control. He needed to be the one with the answers, the one Harry relied on for wisdom and guidance. Severus's involvement was a threat to that dynamic, one that could easily diminish his importance.
"Severus, you promised. You swore that you wouldn't let Lily's death be in vain, that you would help me protect her son. If you truly meant it…"
No. That wasn't going to work this time. Severus swallowed his anger, his grief and remorse, his expression stoic as he rose from the desk. He jerked on the portrait, watching it swing forward to reveal a hidden compartment.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't respond, withdrawing the jewel encrusted sword and tucking it in his robes.
"Not yet, Severus! We don't know where he is, whether he's ready…"
"Speak for yourself. I know exactly where he is."
Dumbledore drew a sharp breath, obviously shocked by the realization that for once, Severus had more information than he did. Severus decided to rub it in, if only a little, explaining what had happened with the fake locket and how they'd managed to recover the real one.
"So he's at Grimmauld Place?"
"Yes. We've been staying there for the past two months."
"We?"
"Harry, Granger, Weasley, and myself."
Clearly, this wasn't what Dumbledore had expected. He might've known Severus had spoken with Harry, enough to communicate about the locket, but living together? He looked stunned, painted mouth falling open as he shook his head in disbelief.
"That's impossible."
"Is it? Why don't you ask Phineas Black?"
"It's true," said the other portrait. "Saw them having breakfast together just this morning."
"But why would they…"
Dumbledore didn't need to finish. Severus knew what he was thinking, no doubt remembering six years of animosity. He wasn't aware that his relationship with Harry had changed quite drastically, nor the reasons for it, eyeing Severus with renewed suspicion. Unable to help himself, Severus smirked, reaching for his traveling cloak as he headed for the door.
"No, Severus. Wait!"
"I've got to get back to Harry," he said. "We'll speak again when I return."