A New Beginning (DH -COMPLIANT)

Chapter 1 ~ Changes in Circumstance

After discovering Snape’s true role and the demise of Voldemort, Harry went back to the Shrieking Shack to recover Snape’s body, wishing to give the wizard a proper burial.

It wasn’t there.

The young wizard was beside himself. Who could have taken it? Possibly the remaining Death Eaters? No, he doubted that. They were too concerned about themselves to collect the body of one of their ranks the Dark Lord killed. Maybe someone who hated Snape destroyed his body. It was a possibility, but who knew it was there?

Harry didn’t know what happened to it, but in an effort to recover the wizard he placed an ad in the Daily Prophet offering five thousand galleons and no questions asked for the return of the Potions Master’s corpse. They could return it to St. Mungo’s and after examination, would receive a cashier check cashable at Gringotts.

There were several takers, but in each case it was found that the body wasn’t what it appeared to be. One was a golem. It was easy to discover because it had no internal organs. The others were transfigured animals. One was even a glamoured body of a deceased relative. Snape’s body never was recovered.

“Harry, there’s nothing you can do,” Hermione said to the distraught wizard as they sat in the living room at Godric’s Hollow, “Snape is gone. All you can do is honor his memory in your heart.”

”But who took him, Hermione? Why would they want him? He was with us all along. He loved my mother. The only reason he even was a spy was to avenge her death. I wish I had known…I wish I had some idea. I thought it was because he was loyal to Dumbledore that he did what he did…but it went deeper than that.”

Hermione sighed.

“He didn’t want you to know, Harry. It was something he kept inside him…something he didn’t want to share. He loved your mother Harry. It’s like..like us. He loved your mother, but he hated your father for a number of reasons. He was torn when he dealt with you…seeing your mother’s eyes in your father’s face. It had to be torture for him, especially since he was the reason your parents were targeted. He gave Voldemort the information that ultimately led to their deaths. He had to live with that guilt all these years, Harry. It was his personal pain,” the witch said.

Harry looked up at her, his eyes glistening.

”I still wish I had known,” he said, “Maybe things would have been different between us.”

Hermione sat down on the sofa beside him.

”It wouldn’t have been, Harry…believe me,” she said softly, placing an arm around his shoulder.

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Several weeks later it was decided that a portrait of Snape should be added to the group of past Headmasters.

Harry was present as the portrait was hung. Minerva was now the Head Mistress of Hogwarts and both watched as Filch carefully hung the portrait. Hermione was present also.

Harry studied the scowling face of the Potions Master. He looked…well…sour.

“Couldn’t they have at least made him look more pleasant?” he asked Minerva.

She shook her head.

”That wouldn’t be a proper representation of him,” she answered, studying the portrait, her eyes glistening.

Everyone believed the wizard to be a traitor and now…now they knew the truth. That it had all been an elaborate plan orchestrated by Albus. Severus had never received the honor he deserved. Oh, there was a lot of lip service, but nothing tangible…nothing that made a difference to him now.

He was dead, his remains the gods knew where.

”When will he start to move?” Harry asked, still focused on the portrait.

“He should be moving already,” Minerva replied, a frown on her face.

Hermione, who was also present, stared at the portrait, her brow furrowed as Snape stared back at her, his dark eyes sharp and almost knowing. He was standing before the pickled creatures in his office. They made a horrendous backdrop with their staring eyes.

“Maybe it will take a little time,” the witch said.

Two weeks passed and still the portrait didn’t move.. Harry was less than happy about this. He had been hoping to question the wizard and find out more about his relationship with his mother and his and Dumbledore’s plans.

“I don’t understand it,” Harry said to Hermione over lunch at the Hollow.

Hermione didn’t say what she was thinking. They had found no body. It was assumed that it had been taken…but what if it wasn’t? They assumed the wizard was dead, but no one actually checked his vitals. They had just left, their minds on the Dark Lord.

Suppose he survived somehow?

Well, she wasn’t going to upset Harry. He was still dealing with the deaths of others that he cared about. Tonks. Remus. Dobby and others. It would be a while before he settled back into life.

Ron was spending a lot of time at the Burrow. His mother had taken the death of Fred very hard and she needed her family around her to cope. Hogwarts had been closed for the rest of the year. Everyone would have to come back next term to finish their studies…but there were no complaints. They had to rebuild.

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One day about two months after the hanging of Snape’s portrait, Harry and Hermione arrived at Hogwarts to find the castle crawling with Aurors. They quickly located Minerva.

”What’s going on?” Harry asked the Headmistress.

Minerva looked quite put out.

”Well I sent Filch down to Severus’ rooms. It’s time we cleared it out to make space for the next Potions Master. He was supposed to transfer all his books to the library. But every single book is gone. Stolen. Right from under our noses,” the witch said, wringing her hands, “He had some very valuable books…worth a fortune in knowledge as well as galleons. It’s just terrible.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. They had never seen Snape’s library but it was rumored his study was filled from floor to ceiling and wall to wall with books, some of them quite rare, covering a variety of subjects. The Potions Master’s library was said to be his pride and joy. Now it was gone.

“The Aurors are looking for clues,” Minerva said, “Something that will give us an idea as to what happened to them, or at least how they were taken. There were well over a thousand books.”

The Aurors couldn’t find a single out of place signature in the Potions Master’s rooms. Only traces of the dark wizard. That was to be expected. He had lived there for years. Filch left a small signature too, but he was a squib. It would require magic to remove that many books without detection. And although the threat of Voldemort was gone, there were still powerful wards on the castle to detect entry by those who had no business on the premises.

This meant either the thieves were well-versed in ward-breaking or whoever took the books was recognized by the castle itself and not barred. The general consensus was talented thieves were responsible, but Hermione had a nagging feeling this wasn’t so, but once again kept her own council.

The thoughts she was entertaining were too crazy to be possible…still, they rested at the back of her mind.

Professor Snape was no one’s fool.. He was a brilliant wizard and shrewd. It was possible he was prepared for the contingency of Voldemort killing him. Actually, she thought that his death was anti-climatic. He should have gone out in a blaze of glory, not be killed by something as simple as a snakebite. Potions Masters were notoriously paranoid, and carried all types of protections with them. It wasn’t unreasonable to think Professor Snape might have as well.

Maybe…maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe he went into hiding, his role fulfilled. Maybe he was enjoying his freedom in some other part of the world, finished with Hogwarts and dunderheads.

It was a pleasant thought. A thought she didn’t share although the shelves of book shops were filled with books concerning theories about the dark wizard, books that sold extremely well. Reports of people seeing Snape at Quidditch games, dining in restaurants and skulking in Knockturn Alley abounded, but were all unfounded. Presently the Ministry stopped investigating these claims, Professor Snape duly relegated to the annals occupied by Elvis, Tupac Shakur and Crumple-horned Snorkacks.

Of course, some businesses took advantage of those who believed in the wizard’s continued existence. T-shirts reading “Snape Lives” abounded, the Professor’s scowling visage prominently displayed. But no proof of this was ever found for over nineteen years.

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Harry eventually married Ginny Weasley, who bore him three children, James, Albus and Lily Potter.

Hermione married Ron and became a housewife in essence, never pursuing her goals. She had a choice to make, a choice largely influenced by the opinions of Molly Weasley who believed being a mother superseded everything else. Hermione had attended university and got a degree in Charms. She was a talented Spells Mistress, but became pregnant before she had a chance to get employment in her field. First she had Rose, followed by her brother Hugo. As a result, she put everything on the backburner.

Ron worked in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Games and Sports where he helped set up Quidditch matches and served in other capacities. He made a fairly decent living while Hermione took care of the home, much as Molly did, though she never did get the hang of making the fabulous meals Ron’s mother did. She just wasn’t that domestic.

Two years after Hugo entered Hogwarts, both he and Rose were called out of class by the Headmaster, Jonathan Wumblewort.

”I’m afraid you have to go home,” the gray-haired wizard said to the pair, his eyes somber.

”Why?” Rose asked, a terrible feeling in her belly.

”You’ll find out when you get there. Harry Potter is on his way to retrieve you,” the wizard replied, his heart heavy.

It wasn’t his place to inform the children what had occurred.

An hour later, a somber and red-eyed Harry arrived to pick the children up. As they walked across the grounds to the main gates, Rose studied him. Harry was strangely quiet.

”Uncle Harry, what’s going on?” the witch asked the somber wizard.

Harry seemed to gulp down air.

”Let me get you home,” he said, his voice quavering.

Hugo looked at his sister, then sidled closer to her, taking her hand.

”Something’s wrong, sis,” he said to her.

Rose’s eyes glistened.

”I know,” she replied, following Harry through the main gate.

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A light rain fell as mourners stood surrounding the ground that would hold the remains of Ronald Bilius Weasley for eternity.

Molly Weasley rested against her husband’s shoulder, sobbing profusely as she looked down on the flowered-covered casket.

Hermione stood next to Harry, whose arm was thrown around her shoulder. Both were red-eyed as they paid their last respects to husband and friend. Rose and Hugo stood next to their mother, Hermione’s arm reaching over the both of them, clutching Rose’s shoulder. The children stared at the wooden box that held their father, cried out and sullen with grief.

Hermione barely registered the words of Ron’s eulogy. It was all so unreal. He had left that morning, smiling and giving her his usual rough kiss before disapparating to the Ministry. He was refereeing a Quidditch match that afternoon between the Chudley Canons and Grodzisk Goblins. As usual, he flew to the stadium since he was required to have his Firebolt.

While flying to the stadium, Ron’s broom malfunctioned. There was no foul play involved, but in the process of hanging on to the jerking broom, his wand fell from his pocket. When it plummeted, he had no way to save himself. He died on impact. It was a quick and relatively painless death.

Finally, the casket was lowered by magic into the grave. One by one, the mourners walked past, tossing in their flowers in a final gesture of farewell, Hermione and her children the last to do so.

As the witch was led away, she glanced up and saw a tall, hooded figure standing some distance away. He was standing next to a tombstone observing the service. Whoever it was stood stiffly and apparently was looking toward her though she couldn’t see within the hood. By the way his cloak fell, Hermione could tell the stranger was a male.

As she gazed at the stranger, someone walked through her line of vision, pausing to give condolences. Hermione thanked him. When the wizard moved on, Hermione looked toward the place where the stranger had been standing.

He was gone.

Her brow furrowed as she wondered who the stranger was. Someone who didn’t want to join the mourners but still pay respects. It could have been anyone.

More people spoke to Hermione as Harry led her and the children away. The stranger was soon forgotten.

She had a new life to live.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.