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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