The Impossible Dream

"The Impossible Dream"

To dream the impossible dream.

Moonlight filtered in through the windows bathing the corridors in bright incandescent light. The many maze-like corridors of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry where silent. Its students had long since retired to their dormitories, shooed ng by their respective head of house. Hogwarts was run smoothly and efficiently like some vast hive. Each student, prefect, head girl/boy and faculty member had their own special duties and functions to perform each day, this was only possible due to the large community spirit which held it together.

This community spirit was beginning to unravel at the seams, relations between Slytherin and the other three houses were beginning to become stretched to breaking point.

Although undeniably there had never been a particularly close relationship between Slytherin and the other house groups that made up the student body, there had always been a perfectly acceptable working relationship between the houses, allowances where made for the nature of the opinionated Slytherins and their backgrounds.

Now they were barely tolerated, treated like second-class citizens throughout the school. They were not to be trusted, continually watched and above all not to be relied upon. After all, now that the dark-lord had risen again to power what was to say that the Slytherins would not start flocking to his banner in droves, as they had been known to do? Who was to say which side the Slytherins were own? Who knew which students were traitors and which still remained loyal to the side of the light?

The answer was no one; nobody could be sure who to trust and who to keep a safe distance from. Therefore, all the Slytherins were tarred with the same brush, all were distanced from the other houses in classes, all were treated to doubtful, condescending glares each day in class, while playing Quidditch and even at meal times.

The Slytherin head of house Professor Severus Snape was no exception. He was not to be trusted, just tolerated, like the rest of his students. He was continually reminded each day, just where he stood. Every day in the staffroom he was subjected to derisive comments about himself and never-ending complaints about the students assigned to his house.

He mused on this as he walked through the silent, dark corridors, his black, billowing robes softly skimming the floor as he went. He had just checked on his students to ensure that they were safely installed in their dorms, and were fast asleep. It was a duty of his as their head of house and also as their guardian and confidante.

Many of his Students had come to him worried that their death eater parents were going to force them into joining Voldermort's army of followers against their own wishes. Many would! Foed into servitude because of their parents, grandparent's wishes, after all many of his students were descended from long lines of Slytherins and Voldermort sympathisers. On those occasions he would listen and offer advice but never mindless comfort as there was none to be given to them.

To see his Slytherins integrated and accepted back into wizarding society, an impossible dream in itself! But it was his dream, to see Slytherin house restored to its former glory, to save the wretched souls who would be forced into a life of darkness and misery otherwise. His students, his children, they were all that mattered to him.

The only way to break the chain of Slytherin servitude and indeed to save wizarding society was to defeat Voldermort!

To fight the unbeatable foe.

How did one beat such a foe? A foe that had proved himself again, and again, to be strong, powerful and resilient!

Despite Dumbledore's and Potter's attempts to scourge the world of Voldermort's shadow it had so far been in vain. Voldermort returned each time still as resourceful, still as determined and gathering more and more followers as he went. Voldermort's shadow spread across the land like a huge inky stain threatening to devour and consume all that had once been just and good in the world.

How could they survive when faced with such immeasurable hatred?

They would, he would ensure that they did. He would fight until his very last breath for freedom and for the return of civilisation.

To bear with unbearable sorrow.

Then there were the children from the other houses, especially the Gryffindors.

He was also well aware of their pain, their sorrow. Many had had members of their families slaughtered by deatheaters in sudden hate raids, designed to install fear into their hearts. Many had returned to school, only to hear that their friends and housemates would not be returning.

The register had been noticeably shorter this year, casualties escalating, victims of Voldermort.

An undeniable prelude to the upcoming war.

He tried when he could to help them and ease their suffering; subtly of course, working in the background so that no one would ever guess that it was him.

In his classes he always tried to arm them, not only with potions knowledge but tried to give them worldly advice carefully disguised by an illusion of scathing, sarcastic remarks. He could never tell if any of them took his comments and advice to heart, probably not, but still he had to try.

He made no apologies for his attitude, and personality in class. For one thing he could not be seen to be being soft on the other houses with his Slytherins watching, some of their parents are serving deatheaters and he is a spy in a precarious position. Another reason was because, in his view, if they could not cope with him how would they ever cope with what the world had to throw at them. How would they ever cope with Voldermort?

In truth he worried about the Neville Longbottoms of this world, how would they ever survive?

To run where the brave dare not go

As he turned yet another corner walking on through the night. He thought about his own position in life and his role in the inevitable war.

As a spy he regularly faced situations that would make the hairs rise on any self-respecting Gryffindor's neck.

He found himself trapped on many occasions between the devil and the deep blue sea. Trapped in dangerous situations that he was not entirely sure he would retreat from in one piece.

He was scared. Oh he would never admit it! But his position took its toll on him physically and mentally.

Physically as he had found himself returning to Hogwarts after a deatheater meeting on more than one occasion bruised, battered and shaking after multiple torture sessions featuring the Cruciatus curse.

Voldermort did not take kindly to failure.

And then there was the constanear of being discovered. Each and every time he walked into a meeting he wondered if this was the day his luck would run out.

For if Voldermort ever found out he would be treated to a slow, painful death.

To right the unrightable wrong

He liked the darkness.

One could lose himself in it; forget all the un-pleasantries of life.

He winced at the irony of that thought. Although he had been thinking about the physical, tangible darkness of the night, it brought him back to the other darkness he had wrongly became part of and had indulged in.

There was no denying the fact that he had made a mistake all those years ago. He had been a foolish youth back then, fired up with ambition and lust for power and position.

As a Slytherin he was discriminated against when it came to ministry jobs. So when he had heard the news that a wizard was gathering followers to him in great numbers. A wizard who was strong, powerful and ambitious. A wizard who above all rewarded his followers generously, he had joined without thought.

And he was still paying for that decision.

He had made a vow when Dumbledore saved him from the net of Azkaban that he would atone for all his wrongs. Some of them unrightable, such as murder!

He swore that day that he would try to prevent others from following the path he had taken.

He swore that day, that he, Severus Snape would never again waver from the path of the light whatever the cost and he had remained faithful to his words.

To try when your arms are too weary.

To reach the un-reachable star.

He owed a lot to Albus Dumbledore. If it wasn't for his faith and belief Snape would be rotting in the depths of Azkaban.

Dumbledore believed in second chances.

After Snape willingly turned himself in after being forced to kill in Voldermort's name.

Dumbledore had offered him a way out, a ladder that ascended back into the light.

He would do anything in order to avoid disappointing that old man. The old man who saved him from himself.

He despaired to see Dumbledore so frail and old looking these days. Time and sorrow was taking its toll on him.

Dumbledore had a dream too and it was the same as Snape's. Nowadays it was an un-reachable star to him. He was feeling depressed in the current climate despite Snape's attempts to persuade him that one day it would all be over.

He had at times found himself saying to Dumbledore "I'm here, I will be here until the end...I believe! We will win!"

It never failed to make a smile appear on Dumbledore'ace.

This is my quest.

To follow that star no matter how hopeless, no matter how far.

To fight for the right without question or pause.

To be willing to march, march into hell for that heavenly cause.

And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest, then my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I'm laid to my rest.

He didn't have all the answers. He didn't even know all the questions.

But there was one thing he knew for certain and that was that he would fight until his last breath for his and Albus's star.

No matter what the cost was for him personally.

He didn't wonder what would happen to him at all. There where only three possibilities.

One was that Voldermort would find out and he would die slowly and painfully.

Another was that he would die protecting Potter or Albus himself.

Or he would survive. All his wrongs would be atoned for and his bindicontract completed.

Whatever happened he would always be there...until the end.

And the world will be better for this.

That one man, scorned and covered with scars, still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the un-reachable star.