Part XXXII

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

All my gratitude to my beta AmyLouise. Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.

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Part XXXII

It was Christmas morning, and it was snowing quietly. The sounds of the world were muffled in that immense whiteness, and the castle and its surroundings looked like an illustration in a book.

Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts and current Potions teacher, was trying to catch glimpses of that wonderful show through the few window panes of his room that were not coloured. He sighed, crossing his arms. A stinging nostalgia was invading his heart.

A light knock at the door awakened him from that wistful reverie. Neville Longbottom entered, face brightened by a friendly smile.

"Hello, Professor Snape!" he said, raising a smoking mug in a greeting.

"Good morning, Neville," Snape replied without thinking, and Longbottom's smile widened at that unconscious slip. Realising what he had just said, the portrait tilted his head and disguised his confusion under a question.

"What are you drinking?"

"Hot chocolate!" Neville said enthusiastically and immediately proposed, "would you like to have one too?"

Without waiting for an answer, he lifted his wand and quickly muttered a spell. A fragrant duplicate of his mug magically appeared on Snape's desk.

"Looks... good," Snape said cautiously, unable to hide the greedy twinkle in his eyes. Hot chocolate was a pleasure he had discovered after coming to Hogwarts, as his family rarely indulged in such prodigality.

"It tastes good too," Neville replied. "Try it."

Snape lifted the mug and sipped the hot liquid. Delight filled his fibres, and he silently thanked Horace Slughorn for teaching the Exchange Spell to the staff, thus allowing the portrait to share some of the joys of the living.

"So, how is the morning going? Got any presents?" he then gruffly asked, concealing satisfaction under grumpiness. Neville smiled.

"Oh, many. But personally, I think I've received the best one from my wife. Hanna is expecting." His radiant smile suddenly turned into a blush. "The potion you taught me worked very well for her problem." He lowered his mug and his head in embarrassment. "I had given up hopes, you know. So many years of marriage and no children."

Even more embarrassed, though strangely pleased, Snape shook his head and awkwardly said, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Neville hastened to reply, looking at his shoes. Silence fell, and after a moment, the man went near the window.

"It's snowing," he announced merrily, opening the glass panes. "Want to see the view?"

Snape nodded; he had secretly hoped to be offered that chance, but proud as he was, he didn't want to ask directly and thus admit his limitation. With the ease of long practise, he entered a smaller frame. Gently, Neville took it in his hands and placed it on the windowsill. Then the man crossed his arms and leaned against the cold marble so that his head was level with Snape's.

"Great sight, huh?" he commented. Again Snape nodded in silence, unable to express the many emotions that were flowing in his heart. He was enjoying a view, one of the sights he had loved most in his school years, and with a friend at his side. Wouldn't everybody call that moment "life"?

After some minutes spent in contemplation, the portrait spoke again. "Any news of Mr Zabini?"

Neville turned to the frame. "Minerva got a letter yesterday, with his wishes for Christmas. It seems that his trip to Italy has been successful. His skills as a potioneer are very much appreciated there."

A pause followed; then Neville added with a wink, "Zabini sent a fine selection of Italian sweets and wines, via special delivery. Ten great owls were necessary to bring the package here."

A curious spark lit in his eyes. "He even shipped a personal gift for Professor Slughorn, from the delicatessen of the city he lives in now. There was a sealed envelope in the package, with the request to deposit it as soon as possible at Gringotts... Peculiar, don't you think?"

The man seemed to expect a reaction from Snape, but the portrait kept an inexpressive face, so Neville shrugged and concluded, "Well, it must be a private matter. Professor Slughorn helped Zabini a lot before he was hired here, so I imagine that he is grateful for that."

Snape smiled a bittersweet smile. He knew what was in that envelope and why Zabini had sent it to Hogwarts instead of depositing it directly in the bank. It was a message also to Snape. He had kept his promise after all and was returning what he had illicitly taken during his apprenticeship. The thought was comforting, though the portrait imagined that, more than gratitude, it was a matter of pride for his fellow Slytherin.

"So," he heard his voice say, "What's the program today?"

Neville brightened again. "Oh, Professor Finlay is having a great time organising the celebration. The sad thing is that this year there are no students in the castle, only a few teachers. I'll be leaving immediately after lunch, so he had better speed things up, if he wants an audience."

Snape nodded distractedly, his mind filled by new soothing memories. Gerald Finlay was now definitely a member of the staff. After their morning talk so many weeks before, Finlay had been approached by Filius Flitwick. The former Deputy wanted to remain at Hogwarts, but he felt too tired and old to continue teaching. Minerva had joined Filius in asking Finlay to stay as Charms professor. They didn't need to beg him too much to make him accept.

The portrait smiled absent-mindedly, but Neville seemed to have followed Snape's train of thought because he was looking at the man in the frame with a mischievous expression.

"A nice ending for our adventure," he commented, lifting his mug as if making a toast. Snape didn't reply, but took his cup in his hands and watched it as if he were reading the future in the brown liquid.

"Any other remarkable news?" he asked, affecting indifference.

"Minerva says that there will be presents for everyone today and also for you," Neville replied and winked again.

Surprised and curious, Snape found himself glancing at the door in expectation. For the very first time, he was enjoying Christmas.

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

Neville had left, and Snape was back in his frame, once more in a meditative mood, when another knock made him startle again. Immediately, he straightened his head, preparing to meet his new visitors. He wouldn't admit it, but he was extremely pleased to receive visits that day, and he felt excited, like a child.

Impatiently, he watched the door open and saw Minerva enter with her measured pace. But his brows lifted in surprise when he saw the other people coming along with her. Firstly, he recognised Flitwick; then, immediately after, Harry Potter, and for a moment, his heartbeat grew faster at that unexpected arrival. Finally, he noticed that there was also Marcello Bernardi, leading an unknown and very old wizard dressed with refined elegance. The group went under the frame, and everybody smiled quietly, each one waiting for the other to break the silence.

"Merry Christmas, Severus," Minerva finally greeted him, and her voice vibrated with such emotion that Snape felt his eyes prickle.

"Today is a very special day," she continued, "And we would like to celebrate it with you. You have done wonders for the wizarding world, so we have tried to find a nice way to say thank you."

Snape's tongue was suddenly pasted against his palate. Minerva turned to Marcello Bernardi, who was clasping and unclasping his hands nervously.

"Well, the one who had the best idea, I must acknowledge, has been Mr Bernardi. Of course, he knows things that we couldn't even suspect about pictures, so we are very grateful for his decision to share this knowledge with us. As you see, he brought here a very special guest. But I think it's time to let him speak and explain."

Bernardi was evidently tense.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Snape," he began, "first of all, please let me introduce my grandfather, Tomaso Bernardi. He is the chief of my family, and..."

The man fumbled in search of words then concluded miserably, "Do you remember what I told you about him?"

Suddenly, Snape felt incredibly agitated, anxious, and hopeful at the same time. He tried to say something, but his voice didn't come out. Tomaso Bernardi looked at the portrait and smiled, raising a hand to stop his grandson. His blue eyes twinkling under the white brows, and the glasses on his nose made him look bizarrely similar to Dumbledore, though physically he resembled Slughorn more: short, round, and bald under the marvellous hat adorned with continuously changing colours.

"Professor Snape," he said with a strong Italian accent, "I'm honoured to meet you. Please forgive my English. I used to speak it when I was young because I spent some years in England, working at St Mungo's, like my grandson here. But alas, it was more than a hundred and twenty years ago, as my friend Albus will certainly remember, and now I miss the practice."

The old man had a pleasant, educated voice, and as he spoke, he turned to glance at a picture to his left. Surprised, Snape saw Dumbledore bow politely in response. He hadn't noticed that Albus had joined them in the room. A new, undefined emotion began to whirl in his mind and his heart: what was going to happen?

The elder Bernardi seemed to perceive his anxiety. "Don't worry, Professor. Instead, let me tell you a story. My grandson Marcello, whom you have honoured with your friendship, came to see me in Italy a week ago. He is a good boy, the most affectionate amongst my grandchildren, and I love him very much. So, as every year, I asked him what present he would like for Christmas. Now, just imagine my surprise when he said that he didn't want anything for himself, but he wanted a present for somebody else. I asked him to explain, and he told me that he had met a great man who was now living in a frame."

The man paused. In spite of the simple, almost grandfatherly, way he was telling his tale, the silence was complete. Everybody was hooked, and Bernardi continued.

"Marcello didn't need to tell me the whole story. Even in Italy, the name of Severus Snape is very well known and respected."

The old wizard inclined his head at these words, and automatically, everybody imitated his gesture.

"Now, you are probably wondering why this babbling old man has come all this way to meet you on a Christmas morning. Well, the answer is to bring you that special gift my grandson would like to offer you. A gift that you would probably call life."

Severus felt his head spin, his thoughts grow confused, and an intense emotion twist his heart, almost painfully. Everybody around him was reacting to that announcement with different expressions. Flitwick, Harry, and Minerva had evidently been informed before, so they didn't look surprised, but awed and grateful, while Marcello Bernardi seemed extremely agitated, as if he had been caught in wrongdoing.

"Please understand me well," his grandfather continued. "What I can offer you isn't, of course, real life. This is a very ancient magic that was developed in my country a long time ago. For centuries, Italy has been divided into many little states that were always warring one with the other. Courageous or cunning men continuously conceived obscure plots and ploys to help the various rulers, or to conspire against them. But as a logical consequence of living in ages where wars raged, and there was no medical assistance, some of these precious men sometimes died, and yet, they were desperately needed by their armies or by their lords..."

The old wizard's voice lowered to a whisper.

"So, centuries and centuries ago, the ancient Master Painters developed a method: When an important man died...whether he was a captain, an architect, a philosopher or a political counsellor...a picture was painted, capturing his soul. Then a very particular spell was performed that allowed the soul to leave the painting and be reincarnated for a limited time in a body."

Bernardi glanced at those around him. Everybody was holding his breath and the wizard continued solemnly.

"This is very obscure magic, something very, very close to the Dark Arts. When you hear stories about those ancient philosophers or scientists who were said to have discovered the secret of eternal life... well, that's not exactly the truth. They were simply kept in an artificial existence for as long as it was needed."

Bernardi shot a meaningful look at his companions. "Of course, this is a secret."

At the immediate nod of those present, he turned to look at Snape, who was listening, pale and silent, in his frame.

"So, this is the experiment we will try today, if you agree, Professor Snape." Bernardi's face was smiling again, but his eyes were grave. "Needless to say, this kind of magic can be extremely hazardous for those who perform it. My grandson knows the spell, and he wanted to be the one pronouncing the words, but I have forbidden him. I am the one in charge of the secret, and I am the one who will perform it. Marcello will have his chance at the right time."

His gaze rested on his grandson and became softer. "But I agreed to have his assistance."

Minerva watched Snape with an imploring look. "I hope we haven't made a mistake, Severus," she murmured, as if they were alone in the room. "I imagine how upsetting this revelation must be to you."

The old witch took a deep breath. Snape was still wordless. Emotion was silencing his voice while his mind tried to rationalise what he had just heard. Hesitantly, Minerva continued her speech.

"Please, take your time, Severus. The decision must be all yours. However, there are still things that Master Bernardi needs to explain before you decide, and he said that you are the only one allowed to hear those words. So..."

Like the younger Bernardi, she suddenly seemed to be at loss. "Perhaps you will... maybe we should...."

Harry Potter intervened with the new authoritative voice that still sounded so surprising to Snape.

"Merry Christmas, Professor. I see from your expression that you are wondering why I am here today, so I'll explain it immediately. Mr Bernardi has obviously asked the Aurors for official permission to perform this magic, and I have agreed to supervise the ceremony. As you can imagine, the whole ritual is going to be secret."

The man paused, then concluded softly, "I have examined the procedure diligently, and I'm sure that it will work. I can't but hope that you will agree to hear what Maestro Bernardi has to say."

Flitwick nodded eagerly, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to steady himself. The old wizard's eyes were filled with tears, and Snape felt his emotions turn into an overwhelming sensation. He lowered his head and whispered, "I am ready to listen."

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

Minerva and Filius left the room, while Harry and Marcello retired to a corner, leaving the elder Bernardi free to speak. Even Albus Dumbledore discreetly moved to a painting at the opposite side of the room. Alone under the frame, the old Italian painter looked intensely moved.

"What an incredible experience!" he murmured. "Marcello had told me, but I couldn't believe it. I have spent my whole life amongst pictures; I thought I knew everything, and I had seen everything, but I was wrong. I have never perceived such a power coming from a portrait. Marcello says that you are even able to perform magic."

Snape nodded, and then he pointed his wand at a chair in the room and made it levitate. Bernardi watched it, then shook his head in a sort of sad admiration.

"This makes my task even more painful," he whispered, and he crossed his arms.

"Professor Snape, there are a few things you should know before we can proceed. Please be advised that I won't go on with the rite unless you want me to and only after you have heard the implications."

The old man suddenly looked concerned. "This is a very delicate subject: please accept my apologies in advance if my words should hurt you. I came here to help. Yet sometimes, the remedy can be more painful than the affliction it's meant to heal."

Tense, Snape could only nod his consent. Bernardi glanced at the men at his back and lowered his voice.

"Your soul has been trapped, Professor, but not by a spell, as happened in ancient times. Your spirit is still locked in that frame because your departure from earth has been premature and abrupt. Your soul can't leave this world because there is something that doesn't allow it to leave. You have been very dedicated to your mission. Do you feel perhaps that there is something you haven't completed yet? Or perhaps you simply feel defrauded? There are many possible questions, but you are the only one that can give them an answer. Hopefully, the gift I'm going to offer you will allow you to understand what troubles your spirit and enable you to make a decision."

The old wizard straightened himself.

"Now, the magic I'm going to perform was used for very cruel purposes in the ancient times. You see, a soul needs a body to reincarnate itself. And when I say a body, I mean a real one, infused by the power and the energy that no spell, and no charm, can recreate."

The old man shook his head while an ironic smile curled his lips. "If Lord Voldemort had studied Visual Arts rather than Dark Arts, he would have known better than to try his pathetic attempt."

He paused, and then his eyes got lost again in the memories he was recalling.

"So, when an important man died and his talents were still needed in this world, my ancient predecessors followed this procedure. First, they painted a portrait to lock in the soul. Then they chose a prisoner, preferably somebody condemned to death, and linked the energy of his body to the soul trapped in the portrait."

The wizard took a deep breath.

"The spell turned the prisoner into a live painting, but by doing so, it also allowed the soul to leave its frame and regenerate a copy of its original body. Of course, the magic would consume this replicated body in a relatively short time, and eventually, the soul would be forced to come back to its portrait while the prisoner...deprived of his vital strength...would be condemned to end his days as a painting as well."

The painter hesitated, then admitted sadly, "Though I'm sorry to say that most of the time, those paintings were burned to avoid complications."

Remembering what had happened with Zabini, Snape felt an immense horror at those words, and Bernardi sighed deeply. "Those were cruel times," he murmured, lowering his head in uneasiness. Then he spoke again, and his voice vibrated with renewed energy.

"But now, let's stop talking of such atrocities, and let's think only of your gift. There is an important clause that I must explain to you before we start... hopefully, that will be the key to your liberation."

His eyes never abandoned Snape's. "Please listen carefully. The moment you are back in your body again, you will be given three options. You could decide to stay in your regenerated body, just like those ancient portraits did. This is a possibility that you can make happen by simply eating or drinking something. Introducing real food into your body will anchor the soul, thus preventing any possible hope of reversing the spell and, therefore, locking the donor in a picture. This, however, will grant you only a limited amount of time. Perhaps a few years?"

Once more, Bernardi paused, as if he wanted to give the portrait the time to weigh his offer. Snape kept silent, and the painter continued slowly.

"The second option is using your body to abandon this world for a second and definitive time. If you should decide to let your soul go and remain here only as a portrait, you will be granted a sweet leaving. You will enter a deep slumber, and as soon as your soul has departed, its energy will automatically reconnect to the donor, recreating his body."

Bernardi took a reassuring air. "Of course, you won't remember anything of this process afterwards. Your life as a painting will be serene and peaceful, as long as your fibres last and your frame stays undamaged."

Snape was hardly breathing. Was that old man really discussing such unbelievable possibilities with him? Surely the portrait was having a dream, or even worse, a hallucination.

And yet hope and desire were holding Snape's heart in a firm grip. Oh, to feel once more the crisp winter breeze on his face and the softness of the snow under his feet! How would it feel to wander in the castle on real legs? And how would it feel to embrace his friends with real arms?

A desperate longing choked his mind. Only a few moments, his spirit implored, perhaps only a minute, but please let me touch the world one more time with my own hands.

Apparently unaware of the storm taking place in Snape's soul, Bernardi calmly continued his explanation.

"The third choice is coming back exactly as you are, with your pains and your joys and your memories, and keep living in your frame for the rest of your existence, as you did till now. If you choose this third option, then we will perform the spell again at your return to allow a safe transfer, and everything will be just as it was before."

At that point, the old master painter watched Snape meaningfully.

"Please listen carefully: the choice between these three options is absolutely up to you. This is why I asked to talk to you alone. I want you to be free to decide, as this is part of the gift."

Silence filled the room, and then Snape took a deep breath.

"Do I have to make a decision now?" he asked, and a bitter smile curled his lips. His heart was beating madly. No, that couldn't be real! And yet Bernardi continued imperturbably, as if the incredible scenarios he had just described were an everyday matter.

"I don't need an immediate answer, Professor Snape. But unfortunately, I can offer you only a day before the spell becomes permanent...just a few hours to savour real life again and conclude what you have left unfinished. You will need to decide what to do within that arc of time. The spell requires the performer to be put in a trance; therefore, we will know your choice only at the end."

Snape couldn't resist anymore.

"Thank you, Mr Bernardi," he said with a strangled voice. His heart was craving to accept, but his mind was forbidding him to hope. "I don't know how to express my gratitude for such generosity. But I don't think that what you told me can ever take place."

His voice wavered, and he had to pause to control it properly. Then his feelings broke out passionately. "I can't accept. Who would ever think to endanger his life for mine?"

"Ah, Professor Snape!" The old man smiled. "What miserable gift would this be, if we hadn't planned everything in advance? Marcello wanted to be the donor, but I think I'll be honoured to offer myself instead. I'm sure that becoming a picture for one day will be an exciting experience for a painter."

The portrait paled, as if an abyss had opened before his eyes. The option was becoming more and more real with every minute, and Snape struggled to keep his mind lucid.

"And what if I should cede to temptation and remain in my body?"

"I'm sure you will discard this option because my life will be in your hands," Bernardi said quietly. "But even if you should decide to stay here, it won't make a big difference. I am a very old man, and I'll be happy to conclude my life by extending yours."

"I can't permit anyone living to undergo such a terrible risk!" Snape objected tremblingly. "I know Dark Magic enough to understand what would happen if I don't get back in the given time."

The old man shrugged nonchalantly. "Leave these worries to me, Professor. I have handled much worse situations in my life. I'm prepared."

Ceding to that quiet power and confidence, Snape lost himself in the tumult of emotions that had invaded his soul, yet he tried once more to fight them, and said, "Master Bernardi, I... How can you trust me with your life? What if I were unable to choose an option?"

"Now, now, my boy, there is no need to be so upset. I'm sure you will make the right decision when the time comes."

Bernardi looked at Snape with a warm smile. "Your heart will help you understand."

Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned to look at the men who were anxiously waiting in a corner.

"Mr Potter! Marcello!" he called. "Please come here!"

The two men were immediately at his side, and the old wizard declared serenely, "Professor Snape has agreed, so we can proceed with the spell. Nevertheless, I've decided to make a minor variation, Mr Potter, just a quick exchange. Marcello will perform the Magic, while I will be the donor."

"Cosa? Non se ne parla nemmeno!" Marcello Bernardi immediately cried. "Don't even think of such an option, Grandpa! We agreed in advance that I was to be the donor!"

The young man had grabbed his grandfather's wrists in his hands, as if he wanted physically to prevent him from a move. "I have been adamant from the beginning! I'm younger and stronger, so this is my..."

"Instead, you will obey your grandfather," the old man exploded, trying to free himself from that grip. "I have my reasons for changing the plan!"

"I beg your pardon."

Unexpectedly, the calm voice of Harry Potter interposed in the discussion, and though he had spoken quietly, the two men ceased their fight immediately at that commanding tone.

"I believe that you are both necessary to perform the spell. Furthermore, I owe a big debt to Professor Snape. He lost his life to save mine. I think that a day against a whole existence is the least I can offer him."

The two men now were looking at him with the same helpless expression. Instantly, Snape understood that, in spite of the assurances he had been given, they were afraid for Potter, and his heart filled again with many confused emotions. But before he could say a word, Harry advanced and raised his head to the portrait.

"I am alive because of your sacrifice, Professor. I have always hoped to have a chance to reward you properly, and today the chance has arrived." He crossed his arms in a definitive gesture. "It won't be worse than facing Voldemort," he said emphatically and concluded softly, "Furthermore, I will finally be allowed to embrace my parents."

And so saying, he pointed his finger to a painting at his left. Everybody in the room turned to look at it, and there was a unanimous gasp. Lily and James Potter were there, smiling and waving at their son, while Albus Dumbledore kept his hands protectively on their shoulders. Harry had evidently planned everything in advance, and Snape stared at James Potter in shocked surprise.

Silence had fallen in the room; evidently baffled, the two Bernardis exchanged a worried glance. Looking embarrassed and incongruously young, James Potter nervously ruffled his hair and said, "You don't need to risk your life, son. We are happy to see you every day, even if you are on the other side of the mirror, don't you know?"

Then he looked at Snape and awkwardly said, "Hello, Severus. It seems that I was wrong about you, after all. Harry told me that you did a great job. Perhaps you just took your role too seriously... I mean at school. However, I suppose I should thank you."

Lily put a hand on her husband's arm to stop him and smiled her kind, heartbreaking smile. "I trust Harry, and I trust you, Severus. I know you'll keep protecting him. I'm looking forward to embracing my son for the very first time after my death."

Tears were shining in her eyes, tears that couldn't be shed. With his authoritative gesture, Dumbledore raised a hand and declared, "I have trusted Severus since he came back to me. He is the most honourable and brave of men. I humbly pray that Harry's wish is granted."

"Albus!" the old Bernardi protested vehemently, but Harry interrupted him firmly.

"Professor Snape?" he asked.

The man and the portrait locked their eyes.

"Professor Snape?" Harry repeated softly.

"I can't accept, Potter," Snape replied, paling as if he had seen a ghost. "I have spent my life trying to protect yours. I can't put it in danger for an experiment!"

Harry crossed his arms. "Facing danger is part of my job, Professor, and I trust Mr Bernardi to know his magic enough to ensure my safety."

Snape looked even more agitated.

"Don't you understand, Potter?" he asked, clenching his hands. "Are you still as arrogant as you were twenty years ago? Danger... danger is implicit in me."

Harry shook his head slowly. "You have protected me even when I didn't deserve it, and you've just admitted that you still feel bound to that oath."

His emerald green eyes dug into Snape's. "I have grown up, Professor. I know that I can trust you. I didn't give my son your name for nothing."

The portrait lowered his head. The boy he had disliked so much...the spitting image of his detestable father...had effectively turned into a man. A man who was the same age as Snape. A man who would grow older than Snape. The child whom Snape had protected had become Snape's protector. The circle had closed. The ends had met, and everything made sense.

The portrait buried his face in his hands.

"Thank you, Potter," he whispered.