Part XII

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

All my gratitude to my betas and previewers DementedLeaf, Xoxphoenix and Morgaine_Dulac.

Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.

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Part XII

That morning, Snape could feel the tension in the air. The lesson to his first year hadn't started yet, but the children were already curled defensively in their seats, studying him with wary eyes and casting furtive glances at the suits of armours, as if expecting an attack at any moment. The news of what had happened had unmistakably been spread around, and Snape could easily imagine the reactions it had raised. They were more than evident in the expressions of his students.

For a long moment, the portrait kept looking at the children under his frame, and the children returned his gaze in uneasiness. Then Snape lowered his head and sighed. He shouldn't have accepted that challenge. He was only a painting. What could a painting ever retain of real life, apart from petty memories trapped in its pigments?

And yet, there was a class in front of him, waiting in respectful silence. Snape opened his book, then closed it again and watched the students with a bizarre smile.

"Let's play with fire today," he declared.

The children widened their eyes in surprise.

*************

Time passed quickly while the students worked eagerly. Each one of them had been asked to test an ingredient by boiling it at different temperatures, and Snape had taught them the various spells to control the flames. Playing with fire was something the children obviously hadn't been allowed to do before, and they were very excited. Soon the assignment created also an enjoyable interaction amongst the students, as they needed to compare results and exchange comments, moving from cauldron to cauldron. Gradually, their confidence came back in powerful waves.

Snape monitored the class in silence, and this unusually quiet approach allowed the children to be even more relaxed. In addition, they were only first year, too young to be scared by his notorious reputation as a teacher, too naive to perceive a difference between him and his colleagues in that magical world of wonders. Acutely missing the presence of his favourite pupil, the portrait observed the little faces so nicely lit up in excitement, and searched for resemblances with their parents. Rose Weasley was very similar to her mother, and Rupert Warrington had his father's same bold manners. While Scorpius Malfoy... ah! that boy, so shy and diffident, concealed a mystery that needed to be solved.

For almost two hours, Snape watched the students work under his frame; they were discussing and enjoying their task in the merry cheerfulness of their blessed age, and the portrait felt an intense bitterness rise through his fibres. How lucky those children were! And what an unfair destiny had been offered to him, on the contrary!

Then he heard Stephen Bootes call his companions in delighted surprise. His experiment had been successful, and the children gathered to see how his chopped roots had effectively changed in colour and dimensions. Beaming in pride, Stephen turned to look at Snape and waited for his approval, while an agitated Rose Weasley hurried towards her cauldron to check her results.

The portrait nodded to his student, smirking inwardly at the joy so ingenuously displayed. But gradually, that joy reached also the teacher's heart, and Snape felt his bitter emotions change into something peaceful. That was his class, those were his students. He relaxed on his chair, and a soothing feeling of acceptance suddenly filled his heart.

*************

Strangely, the most difficult part came at the end. Controlling the magical flames was proving to be tougher than the children had supposed. Some of the charmed fires simply refused to abandon their task, roaring menacingly at every attempt to put them out. The apprentices faced the challenge with great zeal and, without explicit admonitions from the teacher, the noise increased consequently. In such a joyful confusion, only a few students initially noticed the unexpected scene that took place.

One of the suits of armours awakened without warning. Some of the children who were working close to it gasped in panic, while others clung together, instinctively searching for protection.

But the armour didn't do anything fearful; it just took off its plumed helmet and shook it vigorously. To the children's surprise, a little mouse fell on the ground, and from there it squeaked loudly, as if protesting against that rude treatment. The children stared in amazement, while the armour straightened itself and put the helmet again on its headless neck with a sharp clang.

One of the girls at the opposite side of the room, too busy with her fire to notice the incident, chose exactly that moment to turn her head. Her gaze met the armour's and, frightened, she let out a cry.

Snape cleared his throat.

"Afraid, Miss Corner?" he asked, and the girl nodded tremblingly, watching the armour in evident anxiety.

"There is nothing to fear," the portrait explained. "These creatures are intended to help, not to harm."

As if answering these words, the armour began to walk with creaking steps that resounded loudly in the sudden silence. Holding their breaths in tension, the children watched the creature stop before the girl and bend its metallic body in a rigid bow. Then, with its gloved hand, it lifted without effort the heavy cauldron full of gurgling liquid while, with the other hand, it choked the rebellious fire, converting it into sizzling embers.

Immediately after, a sweating, almost desperate Rupert Warrington turned to look pleadingly at the portrait.

"Please, sir?" he asked, indicating the flames hissing menacingly under his cauldron. Snape nodded, and the armour started walking towards the boy.

After that, all the children with problematic fires hurried to ask the creature's help, and the statue made a triumphal tour of the room. As soon as the last fire had been disciplined, the armour crossed its arms and turned its head from side to side, as if enjoying the students' admiration. Then it waved its hand in a greeting and went back to its place, where it stiffened in its usual position. The children acclaimed in enthusiasm, and even the wary Miss Corner opened her face in a timid smile, that grew more and more confident until she joined her companions in a liberating applause.

*************

Alone in the classroom, Snape smiled triumphantly. His plan had worked perfectly. In all that confusion, no student had noticed the subtle movements of his forefinger, quietly directing the armour's actions. The portrait felt a heavy weight dissolve in his stomach. Thankfully, he had proved that the armours were reliable helpers when controlled, and that the incident with James Potter had been... well, only an incident!

Yet the memory of that event was still too hurtful. A subtle disquiet began to corrode his fibres, and an even heavier weight formed again in his heart.

*************

For the very first time since the lessons had begun, he wished that Albus were there. For the very first time since he had awakened as a portrait, Snape left his frame and went to search for him. Incredible how hard to find the irritating old man was, when so desperately needed!

Finally, Snape saw him walking in one of the pictures, lost in amiable conversation with the portrait of an unknown ancient wizard, dressed in a bizarre way.

"Ah, Severus, dear boy! What happened?" Albus greeted him gently.

"Why do you ask?" Snape enquired, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Because something MUST have happened if you are looking for me," the old wizard replied with his mild smile.

"Did you witness what happened yesterday with James Potter?" Snape went immediately to the point, crossing his arms with a challenging glare.

"Well, Severus, you asked me not to meddle, and I am doing my best to comply," Albus chuckled, and his unknown companion nodded gravely in approval. "However, yes," the great wizard continued cheerfully, "I was there in the upper left painting; you know, the one with that wonderful sight on---"

"Enough!" Snape almost shouted, cutting him off. "Well? No comments, no remarks, no advice from you?"

"What kind of comments should I make that you yourself hadn't already made?" Albus' eyes twinkled with an amusement that Snape found infuriating.

"I assume you think the boy deserved a correction," the younger wizard continued sharply.

"Did I say that?" Dumbledore replied in polite wonder. "That's an interesting interpretation."

"I should have imagined you would defend the boy! Gryffindor!" Snape burst out bitterly, pronouncing the last word like an insult. "Didn't you always justify his father's actions? And didn't you forgive his grandfather for that trick with a werewolf?"

He took a deep breath, then continued in repressed anger, "May I hope for an explanation or should I presume that it's beyond my limited comprehension?"

Albus' blue eyes became strangely inexpressive.

"Do you remember, Severus, what you told me just a few weeks ago? I have made too many mistakes to give advice to you. Now it's time for me to watch and keep silent."

Snape clenched his fists in anger, but no more words came from his old mentor. Albus smiled sadly, then turned and continued his walking, resuming an incomprehensible discussion with his strange companion.

Defeated, the wizard left and retired to the brooding silence of his frame.

*************

"Good afternoon, Professor."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."

The boy stared at the portrait, and Snape folded his arms in his usual defensive pose. He had been dreading that moment, and it had obviously come.

"Is there anything you need from me?" he asked warily, preparing for a battle. But the answer caught him by surprise.

"Can we begin our lessons next week?" Albus Severus quietly inquired.

Relieved, Snape replied, "Of course, Potter. But I don't understand why. Is there a reason to delay?"

"Yes, sir. I need an explanation."

The boy's voice was unusually firm, and Snape again felt very uneasy.

"Then ask, Potter," he replied with a sigh.

As always, Albus Severus was straight in his frankness.

"James told me what happened in the class. He told me that you have insulted and humiliated him in front of his companions. Is that true, Professor?"

Snape frowned. The boy wasn't showing the proper respect. How dared he question his professor? That was just asking for a rebuke or, even better, a detention! Instead, feeling extremely uncomfortable before those trustful emerald-green eyes, Snape tried to react.

"Your brother spoiled his potion! But he is too arrogant and egotistical to admit that he had failed."

"Then it's true," Al stated simply.

Snape exploded.

"The truth is that he behaved improperly in the classroom and challenged my authority!" he stormed. "He needed a correction."

"But not a humiliation."

That quiet statement hit home, and Snape lowered his head. Nobody like that child had the power to bare his soul so completely. It was like exposing himself to a mirror, but the image reflected surely wasn't flattering.

Snape took a deep breath. How painful learning to live again was!

"It wasn't my intention," he finally admitted. The nearest thing to sorry he could say.

The boy crossed his arms.

"Why, Professor?" he asked. There was no anger, no hate, no condemnation in his voice, only a quiet sadness. "Because he hasn't got your name? What has my brother done to you?"

The sounds of other voices suddenly echoed in Snape's mind.

"Leave him alone! What's he done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..."

From the edge of the lake, in another time, an angry Lily Evans again faced James Potter and talked to him. Snape gasped and blinked, trying to reject the suffocating memories, while an acute pain diffused in his fibres. Had he taken the place of his past tormentor?

Al's green eyes, so similar to his grandmother's, were watching him firmly, and more painful memories awakened, tightening his soul.

"I'm sorry."

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

Snape buried his face in his hands. He feared the answer that he was gently being pushed to give, and his heart was trying to resist with all his strength.

"It's hard for me to forget, Potter," he confessed in a whisper. "Your grandfather hurt me too deeply."

"James is my brother, not my grandfather," Al remarked gently, and that stunning truth definitely silenced Snape.

A long, long pause followed.

"I will speak to him," the wizard finally declared with a sigh.

"I was hoping for this," the boy replied, and a charming smile lit up his face again. "It won't be difficult, you'll see. Just imagine that you are speaking to me."