The Return
By Hecate
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
~ T. S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"
Chapter 1
Albus Dumbledore drummed his fingers on his desk blotter.
"So what is it you need to tell me,
Oliver?" he asked the stooped wizard seated before him, even though
Dumbledore could guess what his Potions master had come to say.
"I understand that you’re still shorthanded, Albus, but I really can’t see my way to staying any longer," said Professor Graves. "I remained at my post through the war, as I said I would, but now that young Potter seems to have actually put paid to You-know-"
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"To Voldemort,"
the professor continued, "I feel that I have met my stated obligations. I
will, of course, carry on through the end of the year."
"That’s very kind of you, Oliver,"
Dumbledore replied. "If there is anyone you would care to recommend for
your post, Minerva and I would be most pleased to hear it."
"Of course, Headmaster," said Professor
Graves replied. "I shall consider the
matter carefully. Good day." The wizard rose from the armchair opposite
the Headmaster’s desk, reached a steadying hand toward the rook that rested,
as always, upon his shoulder, and turned to descend the moving staircase.
Dumbledore sighed. Graves’ was the third
faculty resignation he had accepted since the winter holiday. The release of
tension that had accompanied Voldemort’s downfall and
the subsequent roundup of the Death Eaters had begun to eat away at the
Hogwarts teaching staff. Now that it appeared to be safe to leave the school,
Graves was only the latest to want to return to what remained of his family and
life beyond the grounds.
But neither Professor Noether,
of the Arthimancy Department, nor Professor Benedict,
who taught Muggle Studies, had been members of Slytherin
House. For years, Graves had not only served as Head of Slytherin,
but the Potions master had been the only Slytherin
on the faculty. Madam Pince, it was true, had been
in Slytherin during her school days, but she had abjured all
connections to the Serpent’s Den many years ago when she returned to Hogwarts
to care for the library. And in any case, the rigidly strict librarian would
never agree to any task that would remove her from the bays and alleys of
her quiet domain.
There was nothing to it but that Dumbledore would have to replace at least one of his departing
teachers with a Slytherin whom he could trust with the oversight of the Slytherin students, several of whom had seen their families
disrupted and divided by the Ministry trials that followed Voldemort’s
mysterious departure. Not to mention a few of whom he suspected of still attempting
to follow in the footsteps of their wayward parents.
"And you didn’t try to talk him out of
it?" Professor McGonagall asked glumly as she and Dumbledore headed back
to the staff room after dinner that evening.
"What would be the point, Minerva?"
replied the Headmaster. "It’s been clear for some time that Oliver’s heart
is no longer in the work. I would almost prefer to have no Slytherins
among us than one who has ceased to observe even the most cursory changes in
his charges’ behavior."
"Or to notice their intellectual
accomplishments, or the lack thereof," Minvera
wearily agreed. "The next lot of O.W.L. candidates aren’t too bad, but the
marks on last spring’s N.E.W.T.s in Potions were
disgraceful, even considering the recent, er,
distractions. He’s been letting the students slide much too easily, especially
in the sixth and seventh year."
"Still," Dumbledore continued,
"that does leave us with yet another vacancy to fill."
"I suppose we might look for an Arithmatician to fill the Slytherin
Headship?" Minerva inquired.
"Only if you happen to
have perfected transfiguring ravens into serpents. No, Minerva, I suspect that the pattern will hold
true and that we will find that our new Potions instructor will be able to take
on the responsibilities of Slytherin as a matter of
course."
"Very well. I’ll send to the Prophet in the morning with
another notice."
"Not just yet, I think," Dumbledore
replied. "I have an idea."
McGonagall flinched inwardly, but she knew better
than to ask.
*~*
Later that evening, Dumbledore returned to
his office, fetched parchment and quill, and sat down to write.
It was, after all, a most complicated
proposition. The candidate he had in mind was, for many reasons, an
exceptionally unconventional choice.
That didn't stop Dumbledore from pursuing
this solution to his problem.
Loading his quill with ink, he considered the
obvious difficulty: his candidate was sure to decline any such offer of
employment. In comparison, the candidate's age, temperament, and relative
inexperience were mere bagatelles, unworthy of excessive thought in the
present moment. Dumbledore had not reached his current position in life by
dwelling on the irrelevant.
I have encountered
a most unusual situation, one in which your advice would be much appreciated.
I will come to see you at four o'clock on Thursday. If, as before, there is
a library volume which would aid your current research, I would be pleased to bring it with me if you will send
me a title by return owl.
Albus Dumbledore
Summoning a school owl, Dumbledore folded the
parchment carefully and attached it to the bird's outstretched leg. "To Severus Snape," said the
Headmaster. The barn owl flapped its wings twice and soared out of the window.
On his perch by the fire, Fawkes keened softly.
"You never know, my friend," said Dumbledore. "This might be
just the thing. For all of us."
The barn owl returned the next morning just
as Albus and Minerva were finishing breakfast. The
parchment read:
Moste Potente Potions 153/37
"Most excellent," said Dumbledore,
as he incinerated the parchment scrap over an empty saucer.
"Good news, Albus?"
"Potentially," the Headmaster
replied. "Our new Potions master has agreed to an interview, although I
must confess he is not yet fully aware of the scope of our discussion."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "That was
fast. Pray tell, who is this person?"
"Severus Snape."
The Deputy Headmistress set down her teacup
with rather more force than she had intended. "Excuse me?"
"Severus Snape, Minerva."
"I heard you, Albus.
But isn’t he a bit . . . well, young for this sort of
responsibility?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, of course he
is. But think what a nice change it will make for the Slytherins,
Minerva. They might actually even talk to him."
"I can’t argue the fact that Graves
hasn’t spoken to his own students since 1973, Albus,
but do you really think that Snape is a wise
choice?"
"He was an excellent Potions student,
Minerva, and he has continued his work in that field since he left us five
years ago. That’s why the Death Eaters kept him in the fold even after some of
them surely began to suspect that his loyalties were not what they once
were."
"And you’re convinced that those
loyalties-"
"Yes, I am," Dumbledore insisted
rather sternly. "As you should be. And I am
afraid that those of Voldemort’s followers who remain
at large suspect as much, which is yet another reason to bring Severus here. He undertook enormous risks for us, Minerva.
We owe him shelter, at the very least, and I would like to think that we could
offer him a great deal more."
"But he’ll know nothing about teaching, Albus."
"Niether did
any of us, at one point or another. I’m sure I can count on you to assist him
in that regard?"
Professor McGongall's
customarily stoic mien slipped for just a moment.
"He was a very good student,
Minerva," Dumbledore chided gently. "He will learn."
Why,
Minerva mused, as she strode toward the Transfiguration classroom, must Albus always be coming up with schemes he feels are certain
to improve my character? First things first, however.
Having arrived at her classroom door, she straightened the collar of her
emerald green robe and adjusting her glasses a bit further down her nose before
entering to face the stares of the fourth year Hufflepuffs.
*~*
It being Thursday, she had only one free hour
between breakfast and four o'clock and she found herself preoccupied even
then with Sinistra's reports about a new variety
of cheating charm that had surfaced in some Slytherin
Astronomy essays. As the afternoon wore on,
Minerva longed for the peace of her own sitting room, if only for a brief
interval before dinner.
When she finally achieved her own rooms, she
found Poppy already ensconced in front of the fire at one end of the long
leather couch.
"Oh, Min!" Poppy exclaimed, "you
look as if you've been wrestling dragons since lunchtime at the very least. Do
come and sit down. Scotch?"
Minerva smiled. "You do know just what I
like, don't you?"
"Of course I do," said Poppy, as
she levitated a decanter and two glasses from the sideboard and brought them to
rest on the table in front of her.
Minerva folded herself onto the couch and
accepted her glass gratefully. Only after she had emptied it by about half did
Poppy speak again.
"So what is it, Minerva? You've not
become this exercised by chasing errant truants or preparing the term's exam
lists, have you?"
"No, it's rather more complicated than
that. Albus-"
"Humph, I might have known," Poppy
muttered, "what has he done this time?"
"He's decided that he has the perfect
replacement for Oliver Graves. He wants to hire a mere child both to teach
Potions and to step in as Head of house for Slytherin.
And won't I be oh so pleased to make sure this infant doesn't drown in his own
ignorance?"
"Who is it, Min?"
"Severus Snape."
Poppy hooted. "Snape? That unctuous little git? Well, he's not exactly an infant, is he?"
Poppy calculated for a moment. "He'd be what, twenty-three now?"
"Twenty-two," Minerva replied acidly,
refilling her glass.
"Well, he did survive his own
experiments with belladonna in fifth year-"
"Barely."
"No one was in hospital for more than a
week-"
"Except for Ludtz."
"Except for Ludtz,
but the mediwizards at St. Mungo’s
learned a great deal from that case, you have to admit-"
"No, I don’t."
"Fine. Have it your way. Although," Poppy smiled somewhat wickedly, "I can’t fathom why you’re getting all hot and bothered over some man."
~*~
On Thursday afternoon, Dumbledore stopped by
the Restricted Section of the library to fetch Hogwarts’ copy of Moste Potente Potions
from Madam Pince’s heavily guarded shelves. As the
book was a rare edition, the librarian was not eager to see it leave her
premises in even the Headmaster’s capable hands, but Dumbledore insisted,
promising that he would return the volume both promptly and unscathed.
"After all, Headmaster, it’s been stolen
before, as you’ll remember," Madam Pince
recalled. "A nasty little Slytherin made off
with it for three whole months a few years back and the house-elves had to
practically dismantle the dungeons before I got it back."
"Never fear, Madam Pince,"
Dumbledore replied, patting the book’s mottled and stained green leather cover,
"I won’t let him keep it this time. Good day." The Headmaster turned
swiftly and headed for the door, leaving the speechless librarian in his wake.
Dumbledore Apparated
in a rather dank alley that meandered behind a petrol station, a mouldy-looking greengrocer’s, and three different pubs,
each of which managed to appear – and smell -- a bit seedier than the one
before. He walked down the alley until he reached an iron door set into the
wall opposite the third pub and tapped it with his wand. The door disappeared,
admitting Dumbledore into a small foyer lit by a bare 15-watt bulb. The next
door had no handle at all.
Still not in the mood for company, are
you, Severus?
mused the Headmaster, smiling briefly. He removed Moste Potente Potions
from one of his robes’ copious pockets and opened the volume to page 157, which
was the third page of a recipe for Draught of the Living Death. Dumbledore then
counted thirty-seven words from the bottom of the page until he reached the
word "pulverized," which he spoke aloud. The inner door opened with
an unappetizing squeal, revealing a rather cramped and grungy flat within.
"Good afternoon, Severus,"
said Dumbledore, although Snape was not anywhere to
be seen. "I’ve brought your book."
"Thank you, Headmaster," said a
voice emanating from what looked to be a narrow kitchen off to the right. "Tea?" A tall young man, exceptionally thin,
appeared bearing a tray loaded with a stained ironstone pot and two mugs, one
of which was chipped.
"Please," the Headmaster replied,
helping himself to a mug from the tray and glancing around the small sitting
room as he took a seat. The fireplace was cold, and it had probably been many
years since anyone had taken a paintbrush to the sooty wall above it. The only
element that kept the flat from being completely devoid of personality was an
ordered rank of books and notebooks on the small table under the window.
"You wrote that you wanted my
advice?" Severus asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore replied.
"But first tell me how you’ve been keeping, Severus.
I imagine that this recent bout of inactivity must seem rather odd, if welcome."
"This isn’t the easiest place to work,
but I have made some progress with that new class of antidotes O’Halloran stumbled upon last fall."
"And you’re still maintaining all of the
old safeguards, I see."
"I thought it best. I probably won’t
stay in this flat much longer, however. It’s become too habitual."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, slightly
pleased. "Where will you go next?"
"I hadn’t really thought about it,"
Snape replied. "I suppose it doesn’t much
matter."
"But it may, my friend. I’m afraid that
this peripatetic life doesn’t suit you, Severus. You
needn’t spend the rest of your days in hiding, you know."
"I’m not hiding," Severus snapped. "I’m just being . . . cautious."
"Caution has its place, but not at the
expense of that which makes life worth living," Dumbledore remonstrated
gently.
"And that would be?"
"Meaningful work, a comfortable home,
the company of likeminded friends . . ."
Severus snorted.
"You came to ask my advice, Headmaster,
not for me to ask yours."
Dumbledore smiled. "I’m afraid it’s all
one and the same, Severus. I have a favor to ask of
you."
Snape looked wary. Couched in those terms, there was little
he could bring himself to deny Dumbledore.
"Professor Graves will be leaving
Hogwarts at the end of the year. Now that Voldemort
has been removed from the field, Oliver is determined to return to what remains
of his family. His grandchildren will need him, now."
Snape snorted again. "They needed him before. But
Graves is a coward as well as a fool."
"Graves is human, Severus,
as are we all," Dumbledore countered. "I know that you resented
his inattention to your own progress at Hogwarts, both in Potions and in the
affairs of Slytherin House, but that time has passed."
"And?"
"And I find myself with the need to
replace Professor Graves with one who is both skilled in Potions and capable of
giving the Slytherin students the direction they most
sorely need."
"I see your problem, Headmaster." Snape thought for a moment. "Magda
Romowski might be persuaded, although she never
really mastered truth potions. . . . . There aren’t many Slytherins
who would welcome a place at Hogwarts at the moment."
"I’m not looking for recommendations, Severus. I’m offering you the job."
Snape looked as though the Headmaster had just flung a
Stunning Spell at him from across the room.
"Me? You want me to come to
Hogwarts?"
"Yes, that’s exactly what I want. Think
of the possibilities, Severus. A
laboratory. Support for your research. A hand in the future of your
House. To my mind, you are the only suitable candidate and I would very much
like you to accept."
"But I’ve never even considered
teaching, Headmaster. I . . . I wouldn’t even know how to begin."
"You are an excellent student, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "You will learn to
teach as you have learned many other things." The Headmaster grinned
in a most disconcerting way. "And I am sure that Professor McGonagall
will be only too pleased to assist as you gain your bearings."
"There are many members of Slytherin House . . . students . . . parents . . . who will
object to such an appointment," he added guardedly.
"There may be some protests, but I cannot
imagine that they will be too strenuous in the current environment. I could,
after all, place Slytherin in other hands entirely."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, as if to consider his options. "Professor
Sinistra might be persuaded to take on the additional
responsibility." Snape shuddered at the thought
of the Astronomy teacher exploring the reaches of the Serpent’s Den.
"I think," Dumbledore continued, "you
will find that the current members of Slytherin
have a great deal to learn from you beyond the techniques
of the Potions laboratory."
"Such as?"
The Headmaster became uncharacteristically
grave. "Our charges must learn many things, Severus.
Including the importance of making the right decision even
when it seems certain that the moment for deciding has passed."
Snape had no reply to this statement. And as he had known
from the beginning, there was only one response to the Headmaster’s request.
"When would you like me to begin?"
Dumbledore smiled.