In the Gloaming

Chapter Twenty: In the Gloaming

Harry re-applied his glamour as he trudged back over the grassy path to Hogsmeade. The charm wouldn't prevent anyone who looked carefully from recognizing him, but it would provide a measure of privacy from the inquisitive looks of casual observers. In any event, in the two years that had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, interest in all things Harry Potter had finally started to die down again.

Once the final hurrah of the War Crimes hearings had passed, Harry had been able to settle into a more-or-less normal existence as an intern in the Auror Department. His co-workers had learned to be comfortable around him, but he was afraid there would always be a circle drawn around him, as indelible as it was invisible, that would keep him from getting truly close to anyone except Ron and Hermione. Even Ginny was ever so slightly outside the circle, not having been part of the so-called "golden trio" and their trials and tribulations in that final, surreal year of the war. Harry thought—he hoped—it wouldn't matter so much once they were married. A couple could be in love and still not share everything, he thought. A husband need not be everything to his wife, and vice-versa. He wasn't sure whether this knowledge was Dumbledore's last gift to him, or his last curse.

He wondered, as he walked, how Professor McGonagall was getting on. He hadn't called on her when he went to Hogwarts—hadn't even gone into the castle—but he had half believed he might run into her at Dumbledore's tomb. There were surprisingly few mementos and wreaths at the white marble edifice, given that it was the anniversary of the great man's death. Still, Harry reasoned, people tended to celebrate and remember their dead more on the anniversary of the final battle.

He hadn't seen the Headmistress in months. After the ceremony in which the heroes of the war had received their various commendations—including Orders of Merlin, First Class for the golden trio, Neville Longbottom, and Minerva McGonagall, and Second Class for innumerable others—Professor McGonagall had seemed to shrink away. She rarely accepted invitations to the Burrow or Harry's flat, or anywhere else, as far as Harry knew, giving the excuse that the rebuilding of Hogwarts was taking all of her time and energy.

He supposed that was true enough.

It had taken longer than anyone had anticipated to get the school up and running again. In the aftermath of the War Crimes hearings, Professor McGonagall had become, inevitably, the subject of much private speculation and public gossip. She gave no interviews and made no public appearances, commenting only once in an article detailing the Council's finding that Severus Snape had been innocent of any war crimes, and had, in fact, played a heroic role in the prosecution of the war.

Her words had been typically terse: "I am very pleased at the outcome of the hearing."

The article that Rita Skeeter had written on the topic had been full of the usual innuendo and sugar-coated bile, suggesting that Minerva McGonagall had been held in some kind of unnatural thrall by the former Death Eater, or as an alternate hypothesis, that the woman had welcomed Snape's attentions as a way of satisfying her “unnatural physical desires” in the wake of Dumbledore's death.

Fortunately, few people seemed to take Skeeter seriously any longer (her column was dropped from the Daily Prophet shortly afterwards; Harry suspected Kingsley had something to do with that) and seemed to regard Minerva McGonagall either as a victim or a heroine. Professor McGonagall, Harry suspected, would have little use for either assessment.

In any case, there had been little objection when the Hogwarts Board of Governors had at last voted to install Professor McGonagall permanently as Headmistress. Augusta Longbottom, reported Neville, who heard it from the source, had effectively shut down any argument when she declared that anyone questioning Minerva McGonagall's judgment or morals would have to deal with the formidable old Longbottom witch's wrath.

As for Snape, people seemed disinclined to talk about him much. Harry was not surprised that the Wizengamot had passed him over for posthumous honors: angry, but not surprised. Harry didn't do anything about it, however. He was beginning to learn, as Minerva had hoped he would, that there were useful exercises in anger and pointless ones, and it was a wise wizard or witch who knew the difference.

Harry made a mental note to stop in at the Hog's Head to see Aberforth. The man would likely not have much time for him, as he had been managing the Three Broomsticks as well as his own tavern in the wake of Madam Rosmerta's sudden retirement. He had hired Lavender Brown right after her graduation to run the place on a day-to-day basis, figuring on continuing the tradition of having a good-looking, free-spirited barkeep to lure the customers in and keep them coming back. So far, it was working well, and Aberforth hoped Lavender would eventually save up enough to make a proper offer for the place.

Coming down the path behind the inn towards the small churchyard, Harry stopped. A tall, hooded figure was moving between the gravestones, and Harry didn't want to intrude on anyone else's private mourning. He watched as the figure came to the stone he himself had come to visit, and knelt down. The figure stayed there for several minutes, then Harry saw it take out a wand and affix something to the headstone with it. The figure then stood and made its way out of the graveyard.

As the figure passed Harry, it nodded. He nodded back, although he could not see the face inside the hood.

Harry followed the path the figure had taken and stopped when he found what he was looking for.

The stone read simply:

Severus Tobias Snape

1997-1998

The headstone itself was unadorned with any decoration or additional carvings, but there was a small, round object affixed to the front that had not been there before. Harry knelt down to take a closer look. It was a medal, and Harry recognized it as an Order of Merlin, First Class. It had been altered, he saw; although the magic was good, it was still recognizable as such. As he looked closely, Harry realized that the original name on the medal had been charmed off. In its place was the name of the occupant of this small patch of graveyard.

Harry stood, smiling to himself. He would visit her, he thought. But maybe not today. Today, he thought, she would want to be alone with her ghosts.

~FIN~

Note: Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, you might be interested in Winterreise (1976), available here on TPP. It concerns the "Yule Ball incident" mentioned in Chapter 14, "Of Quaffles and Pawns."