Old and Ancient Magic

Once he was in the study Snape sat at the writing desk, took up his pen and parchment, and began to write.

"You have the right to know. Tomorrow you will be visited by a witch and a wizard, by the name of Lestrange. They met at Hogwarts, they married soon after. They have been in Azkaban for the last fifteen years. They are Death Eaters. They are your parents.

You were adopted, and placed under a Fidelius charm, preventing anyone from knowing who you were, up to and including today, when it was broken. You were placed with a pureblood family, who had no idea of your parentage, simply that you were born to a wizarding family.

If you wish to speak to me, you may rest assured that it will be treated in strictest confidence. Alternatively you may show this letter to Professor Flitwick, as your head of house.

The parchment is keyed only to yourself. You may not copy it, nor will you be able to show it to anyone else. You can read it aloud, but be careful where you do so.

Professor S Snape

Headmaster,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"

Signing the letter, and sealing it with his ring, he gave it to the scops owl that was kept for internal school deliveries. Sighing, he indicated its recipient, and sat back down, still unable to bring himself to take his place in the Headmaster's chair. He would have to do so before long - the governors would be here, he would be unable to conduct business with them in front of the desk. He picked up the Sorting Hat, and put it back on the shelf where it belonged.

'What is it, Potter?'

'You said there was a letter for me, sir.' Harry was pale, with dark circles round his eyes. The glasses had been fixed, but he was still dirty from his time in the forest.

'Ah, yes.' No Ice, No Sarcasm, No Snape. Harry looked up at him. Snape handed over the scrolls, and then sat behind the desk to observe. Steepling his hands, he sunk lower into the chair that their mentor had once occupied. 'You're waiting for something?'

'I, er, no.' Harry got up to leave.

'You were thinking of leaving? That would be very foolish indeed. Someone might see that letter.' Again. No malice, no emotion at all. The sheer presence of Snape was lacking in the room, and the only thing that kept Harry acting normally was habit in the presence of his feared potions master. But it was a shell. Gathering his courage he looked up.

'What is it?' Irritation, but no venom. The spark had gone from the beetle-black eyes. Harry wasn't sure if this wasn't some sort of polyjuice professor.

'May I... May I talk to the Sorting Hat?' Snape looked utterly incredulous.

'And why would you want to get your grubby little fingers on what is a precious magical artifact?'

'Because I've spoken to young Mr. Potter a few times. And didn't you every think that a thinking cap such as myself might have other uses than simply sorting students? Albus Dumbledore knew better than most when he said he was putting his thinking cap on.' The hat paused, and looked around at the portraits. 'Few other Headmasters have been quite so wise as he.'

'By implication myself,' Snape snarled quietly at the hat.

'You're right. None could replace Albus Dumbledore. Not you, not Harry Potter, not Minerva McGonagall. And yet we chose you to succeed him. Chose you both in fact.'

Harry was alert now. Fawkes picked up the hat, and both landed on Harry's knee. He stroked the hat behind what would have been its ears, and it giggled, his other hand resting on Fawkes. The ridiculousness of the situation hit both master and student - Snape snorted, Harry laughed out loud while the Hat chuckled as it was tickled.

'That's enough Mr. Potter.'

'May... May I read Professor Dumbledore's letter alone?' Harry was fingering the seals, but reluctant to break them.

'If you wish. You may borrow the Headmaster's private study.' Snape couldn't quite bring him himself to refer to it as 'his'.

'Thank you, Sir. I know that this is hard for you.' Fawkes sensed the mood, and flew around the room, agitated.

'You know nothing about my feelings in this matter. Now get out.' Harry was so relieved to see the old Snape returning that he ran through the indicated door, leaving the dignity of his sixteen years behind him.

'For one that could so easily have been one of your own, you treat him harshly, Severus.' Surprised, the new Headmaster looked up. 'Yes, he would have done well in Slytherin. Yet he chose Gryffindor, and not simply through some foolish sentimentality. He knew better than to obey his baser instincts.'

'And you're saying I didn't.'

'Not at all, Severus. You were a difficult one - you could have been in any house, but your ambition to be recognised outstripped any other emotion.' Fawkes sang, a quavering note, tears falling down his feathers. 'Even the bird feels its losses. You lost a great friend and protector today. You are allowed to mourn.'

The hat sat still on the desk, unwilling to talk further. Fawkes rested his head on Snape's shoulder, and they sat in silence.

Harry could be heard in the other room, pacing about, before coming to an abrupt pause. Finally a stillness reigned over the two rooms, broken only by the swallows outside coming in for the night into the forest.

Snape picked up his scrolls from Dumbledore, before coming to sit on the floor beneath the windows, his head in his hands.

Harry sat next door, unknowingly mimicking Snape. His scar was hurting, echoes of spells being cast were filling his head - curses, hexes, simple tortures - petrificus totalis, then 'aqua' - Chinese water torture.

Then finally 'Crucio' before he blacked out, crying.

Hours later he came to, to find a small bottle of a particular healing potion sitting beside him. Snape had left a parchment and quill next to him on the chair by the window seat, with a note to the effect that he should record the events that he had 'seen'. The potion was particularly effective against most curse pains. Gratefully, Harry drank the vial, feeling a tingling go through his body, sending it back to normal. He wrote down what he could remember - seeing Voldemort standing among his Death Eaters, Dumbledore's body in the midst of them, shaven bare, disrobed, and flayed.

A man had been tortured as a spy, but he did not know the name. Voldemort had cast no spells - his magic was weak, but his hatred was strong, stronger than ever. Another was a Muggle, tortured for sport. She was accused of seducing a wizard, using him for her own ends. She screamed, denying it, as they toyed with her, before finally killing her. The water torture was reserved for her husband, forced to watch.

Drawing all his strength, Harry wrote it down, and handed the message to Fawkes, who promptly disappeared. Alone, Harry began to read the letter from Dumbledore.

Dear Harry,

I was hoping that the time would not come when you would read this letter, that I would be able to explain this in person. As it is, this was not to be, and I leave you and the school in the capable hands of Professor Snape. He is to be trusted, even if you cannot see your way to liking each other. No matter what the history of animosity between yourselves, there are ties that bind that run deeper than any superficial animosity. That he will be the youngest Headmaster in Hogwart's History should tell you the high esteem in which he is regarded by myself and others.

You will make your choices as you see fit, but let yourself be guided by what you know to be right - do not let anyone else take your choices away from you. Your ability to resist the Imperius Curse shows an independence of mind that is quite remarkable, cast as it was by an immensely powerful wizard. Do not throw away what you have for frivolities, but neither deny yourself the simple pleasures - it is easy to become either an ascetic or an aesthete, far better to strike the middle ground.

The magic that protects you is deep and powerful, magic that Voldemort himself cannot begin to understand, let alone harness. No one can truly harness it, that magic lets us use it. He uses Old Magic, overcoming the laws of the universe not because he is truly powerful, but because they have already been overcome by a greater force. In some the magic is so powerful it is in their very skin - as it is in yours. You radiate the love that has been bestowed on you by your parents, Sirius, Remus, Ron, and Hermione. Voldemort has none of that.

Some of the magic is from your blood family - rarely will anyone be truly abandoned by their kin. Where that happens it is truly devastating, and the individual is to be pitied as much as hated for their subsequent actions. Not all are evil, they choose their family, but that deep bond between kin is missing, and the hurt is still there. For those that have been loved, the kin they choose will be imbued with that love, and shown emotion they never thought possible.

Voldemort took your blood, but it is little, compared to the strength that you have. There are some superficial benefits, but it changes not the core. Now you have choices to be made, choices which will put you against friends, against family, and even against yourself. When you are tired, hungry, alone, and abandoned, then it is easy to give up, let yourself go, and leave behind the task to which no one but yourself knows you are set. Only you will know, and you will be doing it for yourself. When you are ready to know the whole of that task, speak to Professor Snape. As Headmaster he will have the scrolls and the parchments wherein I speak. You will have the key to them. Do not think yourself ready from impatience, nor ask from impertinence. Ask because it is what has to be done.

You are not a weak wizard, born only for one purpose, whose power will be spent in one battle. You were born to live, Harry. I know in part what you are called to do, and why. There are many things to which you have been born - an inheritance of money, of power, influence, and intelligence. But with that also comes destiny, Noblesse Oblige. To have one, means to have the other, you may throw off one, but then you must leave it all behind, not simply hold onto the bits that you like, that you enjoy. When you raised Godric's sword, you raised your birthright - bravery and honor, when you showed your loyalty, you found a friend - I leave you to care for Fawkes; he will be a good friend to both you and Severus. I ask you now to find your brains and your cunning, qualities you have in abundance. We none of us are simply one sort of person, fitting simply into one house.

Enclosed with this you will find a list on enchantments pertaining to you, and their effects, and in the letter I have written to Severus will be the details of the scrolls and their prophecies. Be gentle with him, Harry. He may not to you be a nice man, but he is a good man, one to whom Fawkes has flown many times.

I bless you now, in Aslan's Name,

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry let the tears fill his eyes, the pain of the last few days finally taking its toll. In the main study he could hear voices, some familiar, others not so. Snape was giving instructions to the house elves. He looked up as Harry walked in.

'There are scrolls here, and here. You may read them as you wish. I have no doubt I shall not be rid of your troublesome countenance as much as usual this summer. If you are unwell go to the hospital wing. I have things to do.' Snape returned his eyes to his own scroll, while Fawkes tried to smooth Harry's hair. It was dark now, and as he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts a shadow seemed to cover it. Madam Pomfrey was unsurprised to see Harry there, and bustled him into a side room.

At the other side of the castle, Snape rubbed his eyes, and yawned. The waning moon had risen, and the stars shone brightly. He re-read the first of the scrolls he had been given. The students would be leaving as soon as possible; he would have the silence he craved in a few short hours. There was still the leaving feast tomorrow night, but no cup to award. His eyes had reached the end of the parchment, but he still hadn't absorbed a word. Slowly, he read it again.

Dear Severus,

I am sorry, dear boy, that we never finished our last game of chess. Nor did I ever get a chance to show you the best of Palestrina Mozart or thousands of other interests that we shared. And now you are headmaster, my chosen successor, my anointed one. It is the prerogative of the Headmaster to name his successor, yet it is one seldom exercised - many fail to realise their mortality, and put the decision off until it is too late.

You are wondering why I chose you, of all people for the task that is set before you. Minerva McGonagall would seem to be the obvious choice - she has been my deputy for many years, and knows the running of the school, and yet she does not wish for more than she has, nor would the position suit her. She loves her classes, and her children, something that I do not think can be said so readily of you. And yet you love the school, and you will seek to defend and protect every one of those within its walls and under its Aegis. You are the youngest Headmaster, and have the potential to be one of its greatest - a finer mind I have yet to come across, and so loyal to those you love that you would die. Your Slytherin cunning I need say nothing of, for that is a virtue you prize in yourself, and yet you downgrade it as something that is not worthy, nor so noble as other attributes. You have trod a dangerous path these twenty years, and now it seems I have made the path narrower and the drops more steep. Yet in this position is the greatest safety - within you is balanced the dark and the light, and in this position is balanced great power and strength, power that you have shown yourself worthy of, and strength you have in abundance. In short you demonstrate the qualities of all four houses, not simply your own, in a way that no other is so able. If you question this, then you need only look at Fawkes. He has come to you many, many times, thanking you for your great loyalty to me. Even when you lied with your lips he knew what was in your heart. I leave him to you and to Harry - Harry has lost Hedwig, and will be a better place to keep him, than have your loyalty to me shown through all the world. Yet he will come to you, and spend time with you. You would have been great, no matter what house you chose - and yet your ambition placed you in Slytherin.

We have spoken many times, and yet I do not believe you truly understand that you are redeemed in the eyes of those that matter. There are fools that cannot see you for your true worth, and there are those blinded by hate and prejudice, and there are those that do not wish to see.

Harry Potter - he has a destiny, as do you. You are both much beloved, and both marked. I trust you to help him, and to guide him. The burden is not only yours, but you know well what he must do. It is not his fault, but nor is it simple. And it will carry great costs, and great burdens. It must be done not because it has to be done, but because he wants to do it, and understands what is needed. He cannot be dismissed, Severus, simply as a child, an inexperienced innocent. He may not have all that is desirable in a wizard, but yet he has many qualities that are to be wanted and are yet noted by their absence in all but a very few wizards and witches.

You were right, dear boy, about many things. But about one, you are wrong. You are forgiven. Find it in your heart to forgive those that have wronged you. The old magic is surpassed by a far greater magic, that of forgiveness, compassion. You do not like the words, they speak of weakness. But where we can show weakness, vulnerability, we are possibly at our strongest because then we know the strengths of our souls. A wizard's debt implies that a life is for a life, a soul for a soul. But no two people can cancel each other out entirely. Harry is not a good Voldemort. Neither was I. You were not then a bad person, nor are you now entirely a good person. You are simply Severus Snape, in whom I am well pleased.

I leave you a great legacy, one that I trust you to use wisely. There are many scrolls for you to peruse, and I have done my best to document the ancient magic that is woven into this place for you. Some you will find for yourself. I leave you a list of certain and particular enchantments that you should be aware of. I trust your discretion in all things, and your sound good sense. Be not proud to ask for help, nor sorry if all is not accomplished in a day. Have high standards, but do not expect too much

And may the blessings of the winds come upon you, and in the name of the founders four I command you to take up your mantle and enter as Headmaster of Hogwarts. From the North, the Quill of Rowena, to endow you with wisdom and common sense, from South, Helga's robe, warmth and friendship to be with you always, To East, Godric's Sword, the strength of our cause, and the sword of what is right, and from West, Salazar's boots to carry you through all the dark places you must walk. And from me, the love and blessings of the Lion, the Badger, the Eagle and the Serpent.

Yours, in Aslan's name,

Albus Dumbledore

He warded the doors, and left his study for the solace of his dungeons. Lighting a cigarette, he leant back in his chair. Arabella Figg was addressing Slytherin now. Probably she had already done it. The school was unnaturally quiet, especially for the end of term. Exhausted by the day's events, he slept.