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In English, please!

The 15th of December 2013

An angel's funeral

"Let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part." said Phineas Nigellus' portrait.
Slytherin. Snape. Professor Snape. Voldemort. The Shrieking Shack.
Professor Snape is at the Shrieking Shack. Dead.
Harry tried to get out of the cheerful crowd in Dumbledore's office, ignoring everyone's congratulating him on his feat. He wouldn't be here but for Snape. But for the man that was supposedly a Death Eater and now was lying on the dusty floor of that derelict house. On the floor that was full of his own blood. Of his last memories.
He had to find McGonagall and tell her the whole truth. Who else would believe him other than her? Snape had been a great actor, fooling everyone with that blank expression of his. Making them see him as a treacherous person, as a murderer, while his true loyalties lay on nothing more than a memory. A sad memory that reminded him of his fault every single day.
Harry headed quickly towards the Great Hall and saw McGonagall casting a healing spell on a student.
"Professor, may I talk to you for a second? In private." said Harry, after having approached the teacher.
"Yes, Potter, of course." she answered and stood up from the floor, nodding Harry to follow her. Both went to the Entrance Hall and then left the castle, heading to the Black Lake.
"You know, I wanted to talk to you about Professor Snape." he muttered.
"Prof-I beg your pardon?" 
"Yes, you heard right. I called him Professor. But that's not the point right now. I just wanted to explain to you what really happened between him and Dumbledore. Because, you see, he wasn't a traitor, nor a coward, as you called him. He never was...."
                                                                                                                                        * * *
"So, you're telling me that he was actually on our side? I...I can't believe it." said McGonagall, shocked.
"That's the truth whether you believe it or not. Professor, could I ask for something, now that you are aware of this...?"
"I'm all ears." she managed to utter, trying to process what she had just heard.
"I need your help to...I...I want to go to the Shrieking Shack and take Professor Snape's body to Hogwarts. I think that he deserves to be buried there. I mean, Professor Lupin will be buried with Tonks, where Sirius is and as for Fred and all the other students who...died, well, they have relatives... But no-one will care about him. He doesn't have anyone in this world..."
"I understand, Potter. Alright, then. Let's go to Hogsmeade." she responded, exhaling sharply and something that seemed like a tear dropped from her sullen face, falling to the grass.
                                                                                                                                       * * *
Harry opened the door of the shack with a creaking sound and both him and McGonagall walked into the living room. All of a sudden, the atmosphere became suffocating and it was not due to the dust in the air. Harry's eyes fell on Snape's dead body and he swallowed hard when McGonagall passed him and kneeled on the floor, next to Snape. She whispered a cleaning spell and, right after that, she fixed the man's torn cloak and placed his body on a stretcher.
Harry recalled what he had witnessed in that room and the last words of his teacher struck him.
"Look...at...me." Snape had said, his memories ceaselessly flowing out of his eyes, ears and mouth. And then, all at once, his hoarse breath had stopped sounding and that defeaning thud of his had made Harry shudder at the atrocious sight.
Blood. On the floor. On his neck. His clothes. My hands. Blood everywhere.
The boy felt his hands shake at the thought, but he soon realised that McGonagall was calling him, slightly worried, so he returned to reality and got out of the house, slamming the door before him.
Two days later
Today, it was the memorial ceremony for all of them who had died during the battle, either they had been buried in Hogwarts or somewhere else.
Harry wore his formal cloak and left the castle, walking hesitantly. When he reached the Lake's bank, he moved between the crowd and found a chair to sit on, next to Ron and Hermione. Just like him, his friends had stern looks on their faces and sat there silent, suppressing their thoughts and feelings. Harry looked to the left and saw some people from the Ministry chatting and faking sad expressions. Hypocrites, he thought. It's not a fucking reception, you idiots! People died. Don't you care at all?
He averted his gaze to see McGonagall heading towards a podium. She started her speech by explaining why they all had gathered there that day and then she continued with announcing the names of the dead people.
"And, lastly, Professor Snape, who was killed by Voldemort and found in the Shrieking Shack. Would anyone like to say something about him?" asked McGonagall.
The crowd began murmuring incoherently when a man stood up, shouting indignantly.
"With all due respect, but how dare you say his name in that ceremony? He was a Death Eater for Merlin's sake! The only thing I want to wish him is burn in hell for killing Albus!"
"I would." said Harry seriously while standing up.
Everyone looked at him confused, including Ron and Hermione, but a moment later the mumblings ceased. The boy walked to the podium and stepped on it, placing his hands on the raised table in front of him. He looked at the crowd and noticed McGonagall smiling. She was the only one who knew the truth about Snape. He hadn't even talked to his friends. But now, it was about time he did.
"Long ago, I had a teacher. A sallow-skinned man with long black hair. I had always hated him for constantly teasing me in front of others. Well, to be honest, I think that all students despised him for making their lives miserable. But I'm not here to talk to you about myself. I'm here to tell you the real story of Severus Snape. You see, Professor Snape was neither Voldemort's servant, nor a killer. He never betrayed us, as everyone thinks. Before my parents' death, he swapped sides and became a spy for Dumbledore, putting his life at risk to save me. You know why? Because he was in love with my mother and never stopped loving her. That's why Dumbledore trusted him so much and told us to do so. Snape wasn't the one who killed him. Dumbledore was sick and he would die sooner or later. He was suffering, so getting Snape to murder him was the perfect plan to gain the confidence of Voldemort...Have you ever considered how that man felt? He was dying, knowing that everybody saw him as a traitor and actually wanted him dead. Ok, I'm not saying that he was a saint. Indeed, he had made many mistakes. But he paid for them. However, he still blamed himself for my mother's death, although he wasn't completely responsible for that...Did you ever see him smile? I'm sure you didn't. No-one did. Neither did I. He couldn't smile, of course. He loathed himself and accepted everyone's accusations. Yet he would suppress his feelings and wear that neutral mask, raising an eyebrow and scaring his students. But deep inside, he was depressed. I don't know what your opinion is, but I have forgiven him. I know he has regretted ever being on Voldemort's side and I don't believe that he was a mean person. Just hurt. I owe him my life. And I hate myself for calling him a coward. For he wasn't one. He was a true hero, a silent guardian. So rest in peace, Professor. You've been immensely courageous all these years in order to protect me. Thank you. For everything."
Harry wiped away his tears and rushed through the appalled crowd, heading towards the Whomping Willow, where Snape's grave was. He kneeled before it and pulled a lily out of his cloak while reading the inscription that he himself had carved on the stone:
Severus Snape (1960-1998)
Potions Master, DADA Professor, Headmaster at Hogwarts. And the bravest wizard ever.
R.I.P. Professor
"Goodbye, Professor." said Harry, leaving the flower in front of the gravestone.
"Oh, and when you go up there, tell my mum the truth about you. She will forgive you. I'm sure of it."


(This is a fan-fiction work. I own neither the characters, nor the locations. All rights go to J.K.Rowling.)
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