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"What do you make of this," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, sitting down in front of Harry's desk and tossing a copy of a shiny Muggle magazine at him.
"Good morning to you, too, Minister." Harry picked up the magazine. His pulse started to pound as he read the cover. 'Another year starts for Teacher of the Year Steven Snape'. Steven Snape?"
"Yeah. I saw this at a Muggle news stand this morning. Look at the picture with the article."
Harry was already turning to the correct page. A man stood in front of a blackboard with a wooden pointer in his hand. Even without a full picture of the classroom, Harry could tell that it was run down. What drew Harry's eye, though, was the man. He looked like Severus Snape, whose body had disappeared from the Shrieking Shack twenty years ago. No one had seen or heard from him after that, and he had been presumed dead.
"Should we even investigate?" Harry asked.
"I don't know. But I thought you'd like to know." Kingsley rubbed his hand over his bald head and sighed. The years as Minister of Magic had taken their toll on him. "I wonder if we should just let it go."
"It's not as if he's wanted for anything." Except that Harry wanted to know what had happened to him. The general theory had been that some Death Eater had stolen his body, perhaps for some nefarious purpose. There was an empty grave and marker at Hogwarts.
Kingsley sighed again. "I'd like to talk to him."
"Yeah, so would I." Before Harry could say anything else, his daughter's owl, Perry, landed on his desk. He'd been expecting it since last night. "Excuse me," Harry said as he unwrapped the letter and gave the bird a treat.
While the owl munched on it, and Kingsley waited, Harry read the note. Then read it again. His daughter had been sorted into Gryffindor. No surprise there. And one of her new housemates was Kensington Snape. A Muggleborn girl from a village in northern England.
It must have shown on his face because Kingsley said, "What's the problem?"
"Here --" Harry handed it to him.
"A bit of a coincidence, that."
"Yeah. Just a bit too much of one, don't you think? I could ask someone in the Yard to check it out for us." Muggle wizard interaction was more accepted now, though hardly common place. The law enforcement branches tried to share information where possible.
Years of being an Auror had taught Harry that there was no such thing as random coincidence. Things happened for a reason and clearly, there was a reason behind this.
"Or you could do it yourself."
"I could. At least, I'd recognize him." Probably. After twenty years, it was entirely likely that he wouldn't. "I can get Dave Passer in Muggle-Wizard relations at the Yard to give me permission to talk to the teacher."
Kingsley stood. "Let me know what happens."
*****
It was two days before Harry stood in front of the run-down school where Steven Snape taught. He'd obtained all the proper permissions and now he had to check in with the Headteacher before he could approach Snape.
The secretary let him into the Headteacher's office. "Mr. Harry Potter, ma'am", she said, leaving the door open for Harry to go in.
He didn't remember much about Muggle school Headteachers, but Polly Coleman looked too old to be still working. Old in a way that Minerva McGonagall was not and probably wouldn't be for another fifty years.
Her fingers were knotted with brown spots on the backs of her hands. She stood slowly. "The Superintendent, Mr. Brooks, said you'd be by today to talk to me about Mr. Snape."
"That's correct. Thank you, Mrs. Coleman, for seeing me so promptly." If you could call two days prompt.
She sighed and waved him to a seat. "What do you wish to know?"
"How long have you known Mr. Snape?"
"Sixteen years. I hired him." she said. Her tone was correct, but cool. There was no reason she should look so suspicious of him.
Harry's Auror instincts went on high alert. "You hired him? I thought the district did that."
Her eyes narrowed and she nodded slightly. "I hire my own teachers, always have. I've been the Headteacher here for thirty years."
That didn't sound like that long to Harry. Minerva had been at Hogwarts for more than sixty years at this point and she showed no sign of stepping down. But Muggles had different standards of time. "Aren't you close to retirement?"
She blinked. "That's hardly your business, now is it?" But I'm not ready to give up this job. Not yet."
Fair enough, Harry supposed. "How did you come to hire Mr. Snape?"
She looked startled by the question and it took her a moment to answer. "At the time, there weren't that many people who wanted to teach in this school. It's a poor village. Most of the people work in the factory or in the mill."
Harry nodded, hoping she'd answer the question.
"Mr. Snape came to me and said he wanted to teach math or science, but he didn't have an education certificate."
"And you hired him? Just like that?"
Her cheeks turned red. "I asked him to teach a class or two, and I watched him. He was very good. I asked him why he wanted to teach in this school." She met Harry's eyes. "Do you know what he said to me? He said this was the poorest school he could find and that he could make a difference in the lives of the students."
"And you believed him?"
"Given the pool of applicants I had at the time, I knew he couldn't do any worse than most of them. And he wanted to be here."
"Did you check his credentials?"
She looked away. "His application said he'd graduated university with honors. And he'd got the requisite teaching certificate after he started."
In other words, she hadn't checked, which Harry was sure Snape had been counting on. "Did it occur to you that he might have been a danger to the students."
"I'm a fairly good judge of character, Mr. Potter. And I watched him closely. From the beginning, I could see he was an excellent teacher. He was strict, sometimes overly so. But I've never seen him favor one student over another, and he can explain a concept to his students so that they understand. And when they don't, he does it again and again until they do. He's made a real difference in the student's lives at this school. And frankly, that trumps any other deficiencies he might have."
She put her hands on her desk and met his eyes. "The best students in his classes go on to University. He finds a way to make it happen. He is the best thing that has ever happen to this village."
This did not sync with Harry's image of Snape, but admittedly, that was twenty-two years old. "I saw he was Teacher of the Year, last year."
"I would have said he was that every year he's taught here. One of his former students arranged that. I was concerned then, and now I see I was right."
"I don't know what you mean?"
"I've been waiting for someone to come and claim him."
"You thought he was in trouble and you hired him anyway?" Harry thought that was unconscionably irresponsible.
"I saw someone who wanted to teach and gave him a chance. It has paid off for this village in ways you can't imagine." She sighed and looked down at her hands. "That doesn't mean I haven't expected that each year would be his last."
Harry couldn't address any of that until he spoke to Snape. He stood. "I would like to speak to him, if you please."
Her head bobbed once and she said, "He's in classroom 101, down the corridor, last classroom on the right."
"Thank you." Harry closed the door quietly behind him.
*****
As the door to his classroom opened, Steven Snape looked up. He blinked. More than twenty years since Snape had last seen him, and still he recognized Harry Potter in an instant. How could a man who must be nearly forty so closely resemble his seventeen year old self?
After such a tumultuous adolescence, perhaps the rest of the years had been kind to Potter. His hair was the biggest change. Nicely cut, and lying flat, it was touched with grey at the temples, which was odd for a Wizard so young. He was still short and slim. Interestingly enough, he was dressed in a fashionable Muggle suit that was not only not out of date, it also deliberately screamed law enforcement.
Clearly, there was only one way to play this out. "Can I help you, sir?" Snape made it sound as polite as he could, and added a hint of fearful respect for Potter's obvious authority. No doubt Potter would get off on the obsequiousness of it.
Potter blinked and for one second, looked surprised. "I'm Harry Potter, on task from Scotland Yard. I'm looking for Sever...Steven Snape." He pulled out some kind of identification and flashed it.
As Potter was pulling it away, Snape caught his wrist and studied the worn leather folder with an authentic looking Scotland Yard Identification and Potter's picture. He let it go after a second and nodded. "Is there a problem?"
"That's what I'm looking into." Potter cleared his throat. "My...unit has been looking for someone for a long time."
They were still looking for him? Why? Everyone should have believed him dead years ago. This could not end well. Unless Potter was a supremely poor Auror, which Snape supposed was possible, he would have heard the change in Snape's breathing. "Who are you looking for? One of my students?"
"A man named Severus Snape."
Snape looked right at him. "I'm afraid I don't know him. Should I?"
"You look like him. I'm wondering if you're related to him somehow." The question was asked in so curious a tone. Snape wasn't completely sure that Potter recognized him.
Then again, Potter wasn't that stupid. But was he that smart? "I'm sorry I don't know. I'm no longer in contact with anyone in my family."
Not that there was anyone to be in contact with, anyway. His father had been an only child and the more distant relatives had been smart enough to stay well away from Tobias.
Potter looked at him closely, and Snape felt a slight push at the barrier of his mind. He allowed Potter to see his surface thoughts, which were easy enough to manipulate. Thank God he'd kept practicing his Occlumency over the years for just this eventuality. When Potter didn't find anything out of the ordinary, he withdrew gently.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Snape asked as he gathered the essays he'd been grading. Since Kensi had left for Hogwarts, he'd taken to spending his afternoon hours at school. The house was just too quiet, although he couldn't avoid it forever. He folded his reading glasses and put them into their case.
"I know where your daughter goes to school --" Potter stopped abruptly and raised his hand, seeming to realize the threat in what he'd just said.
Still, the blood drained from Snape's face and his heart sank into his shoes. "Is that a threat?"
"No. Of course not. I'm sorry I put it that way." Potter rubbed the back of his neck and looked up for a moment. "What I meant was that I'm part of that community."
The Harry Potter he'd known would not have used a man's child against him, and he could not believe that the boy had grown into someone who could. "What do you want from me?"
Potter looked away again and then back. "I thought you might be someone I knew."
And Snape still wasn't sure if he knew or not. It was annoying. "This other Snape? Who might be related to me, or not?"
"Right. I was hoping you were him."
"So that you could arrest him? What has he done?" Snape asked. Maybe he could get Potter to tell him the charges. Though, if they were still looking for him, it must mean that he was still wanted for Dumbledore's murder.
How could he have been so stupid? He'd allowed Kensington to go into a situation that could potentially be catastrophic. And there was no hope at all that she wouldn't put it together, she was his daughter after all.
Potter was shaking his head. "No. No. Of course not." And then Potter looked right at him again. "He was cleared of all charges."
Something very tight inside him relaxed ever so slightly. "Then why are you here, Mr. Potter?"
Potter blinked and smiled. "Snape, the other Snape, is a hero to our community. I'm sure your daughter will hear all about him."
Well, that was a surprise, now wasn't it. "Maybe she'll be able to explain it then. I..." Snape let out a long suffering sigh. "Her abilities were...unexpected." How was he to know that his wife's family had been peppered with wizards who'd shown up every few generations?
"Did someone come out to explain it to you?"
"Yes." And fortunately, it wasn't anyone he recognized, or anyone who had recognized him. "But as you might guess, it was something of a shock."
"I can imagine. I have three children myself?" Potter smiled at that, obviously proud of himself.
The fathering of children wasn't anything to be that proud of. It was how they turned out that mattered. "If you were part of the community then I'm sure no one had to explain it to you."
"Not for my children, no. They grew up in the community. But for me, I had no idea."
Snape had known that, hadn't he? It didn't matter anymore. Still, a bit more information couldn't go amiss. "How old are your children?"
"James Sirius is fifteen, Albus Severus is thirteen, and Lily Luna is eleven."
Keeping the surprise off his face took all of his rusty skills. "You named your child after the man you're looking for?"
"He is...was a very brave man."
What the hell could he say to that? In his nightmares, he still heard Potter screaming at him that he was a coward. He suppressed a shudder. There were some things that could never be forgiven or forgotten.
The silence stretched out for a moment, and then Potter said, "My daughter said she'd made friends with another girl in her house. Kensington Snape."
"That would be my daughter. Yes." And he wasn't going to address the fact that she'd been sorted into Gryffindor. It must have been her mother's influence.
"Interesting name."
"My wife's family name."
"Of course. I shouldn't keep you any longer." Potter took a step back and then turned towards the door. He turned back before his hand touched the knob.
Snape held his breath.
"How did you survive?"
That probably worked very well on other people, but not on him. "Survived what?"
"The snake?" Potter asked. "I would really like to know."
The betrayal from Voldemort was hardly unexpected. Snape had known him too long and too well for that. And he wasn't stupid, so he'd been prepared for it, taken the proper precautions, and had everything prepared at Spinner's End, just in case. And as soon as Potter, Granger, and Weasley had left the Shrieking Shack, he'd Apparated there. "People in hell want ice water, Mr. Potter."
Potter smiled widely at the comment. "Are you in hell, Mr. Snape?"
Lonely, now that Kensington was at school, but nothing like the first thirty-eight years of his life. "Not at all. I have a good life here. I teach students who mostly want to learn and are grateful that someone wants to teach them. I play darts with the blokes at my local. My daughter just won a scholarship to a fancy public school in Scotland. I'd say I've done well for myself and my family."
"Your wife?"
"Divorced. You can't have everything, but she did give me Kensington, so I count it as breaking even."
"I'm divorced as well. But fortunately, I've remained friendly with my ex-wife and her family."
Now, that was a surprise. The divorce from Ginevra Weasley. He'd probably never know the story there, and really, that was all right.
Potter stood there for one more moment. "Why?" he asked softly.
"Penance," Snape said. Why he was acknowledging it now, he didn't know.
As if that explained everything, Potter nodded and closed the door behind him.
Almost as soon as Potter left, Mrs. Coleman came rushing in. "Steven, what did you say to Mr. Potter?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Snape tried to make it sound as casual as he could. There was nothing he could do about Potter. Nothing he would do.
She took a deep breath, and the words came out in a nearly indistinguishable rush. "He said you weren't the person they were looking for. That it was all a big mistake."
The breath he'd been holding slid out of his lungs quietly. "You thought I was in trouble?"
"No one as smart or as good a teacher as you are stays in a place like this without a reason."
He had a reason, just not the one she thought. "I want to make a difference."
"And you do, Steven. You do."
Snape nodded and watched as she rushed out of the room again. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe he'd stop by the pub on his way home.
--finis