Contrary to James's expectations, Snape didn't react as he used to, provoked into drawing his wand with a single taunt.
After all, years of practicing Occlumency had honed his control. If he couldn't master his emotions, Voldemort would have long since caught him and minced him into pieces.
Besides, age had tempered him, making him steadier. In the face of James's provocation, Snape merely curled his lip downward, letting out a scornful scoff.
"Grow up, Potter," Snape said, settling beside Dumbledore. "I have no interest in reminiscing about childish pranks with you."
"Alright, James," Lily interjected, offering her husband a graceful way out. "Let's hear what Dumbledore has to say first."
Caught off guard by Snape's dismissal, James found it hard to press further. He followed his wife's lead, albeit reluctantly.
After all, if he kept picking a fight with Snivellus, he'd end up like Uncle Benshan's saying: "One-track mind leading to a dead end."
He sank back into his chair, deciding to see what Dumbledore had in store.
"Snape's not entirely wrong," Sirius sighed, breaking the silence. "If I'd gone to Dumbledore back then and laid out the truth, I wouldn't have rotted in Azkaban for so long… But all I could think about was atoning for my mistake. It was my idea to switch the Secret-Keeper to Peter Pettigrew. That bitter fruit was mine to bear…"
"It's not your fault, mate," James said fiercely. "The blame lies with the traitor who betrayed us and the one who sold the information to Voldemort…"
"No, James!"
Sirius shook his head, his expression complex. He glanced at Snape before continuing, "I know you've got issues with Snivellus, but I have to say—yes, it was Snivellus who passed the information to Voldemort, but he tried to make amends afterward… And, James, my brother—if you'd listened to Dumbledore and chosen him as your Secret-Keeper, you and Lily would never have been killed by Voldemort. No one could've pried your location from Dumbledore's lips."
As the saying goes, lies don't hurt—truth is the sharpest blade. Hearing even his best mate say this, James, for the first time, began to doubt himself.
Am I really just an arrogant, hopeless fool?
Lily reached out, gently taking James's hand.
"Darling," she said softly, her voice carrying strength, "I believe in the choices you made."
Snape's eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Still, I suggest you know the full story," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. "There are things I'd intended to keep buried, but given the circumstances and the misunderstandings between you, I've decided to invite you to view my memories."
"Your memories?" James frowned, looking up.
Lily lifted her gaze as well, her gentle eyes passing over Snape, lingering briefly before settling on Dumbledore.
"Mr. Flamel," Dumbledore said, turning, "do you have a Pensieve here?"
"Oh!" Flamel's face lit up with a gossipy grin. "A Pensieve? That's awfully old-fashioned. Allow me to introduce my latest invention—here, take this mobile."
He reached out, picking up a crystal orb from the table and handing it to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore took the orb, eyeing Flamel skeptically. "So… how does this work?"
Before Flamel could respond, Snape's expression darkened.
It was fair to say that since stepping into the room and seeing James, his face hadn't brightened once.
"Dumbledore," Snape said icily, "you swore an oath to me."
"Oaths are made to be broken, Severus," Dumbledore replied lightly. "Besides, I don't want you to remain misunderstood forever…"
Snape let out a derisive scoff, standing abruptly. "If you insist—but I have other matters to attend to."
He swept his black robes and turned to leave.
"Stay."
Lily's voice cut through, directed at Snape's retreating back.
Sharp as she was, she'd long had her suspicions about Snape's actions over the years.
Snape froze, hesitating.
"Stay, Severus," Lupin said, rising and guiding him back to his seat.
Snape neither resisted nor agreed, simply allowing Lupin to lead him back.
Truth be told, Snape had no desire for anyone to know those things.
But the problem was, ever since the "Mudblood incident" that drove a wedge between him and Lily, they'd become strangers, with no further connection.
Deep in his heart, Snape longed to reconcile with Lily, even if they couldn't return to what they once were—at the very least, not to remain as strangers.
So, he only protested Dumbledore verbally, never taking real action to stop him.
He sat back down, his gaze flickering toward Lily before darting away, as if burned, landing on James instead.
At that moment, James was also looking at him.
Like Flaubert staring across the Alps, the two men regarded each other with mutual disdain, letting out synchronized, nasal snorts before looking away in unison.
"With your wand," Flamel instructed Dumbledore. "Extract your memory and place it in the crystal orb. It will take you all into the memory…"
Dumbledore did as told, drawing silvery strands of memory with his wand and placing them into the orb.
A cloud of silver-white mist rose within the orb, and suddenly, the room began to spin.
When the dizziness faded, they found themselves standing in Dumbledore's office.
It was Dumbledore's memory.
Something was making a terrible noise, like a wounded animal.
Snape sat slumped in a chair, leaning forward, while Dumbledore stood before him, his expression grave.
After a moment, Snape raised his face. No one knew what he'd endured, but he looked as though he'd lived through a century of suffering.
"You promised me, Dumbledore…" he said. "You promised… to keep her safe…"
"She and James put their trust in the wrong person," Dumbledore said, standing by the window, gazing at the moon outside. "Just as you did, Severus. Didn't you once hope Voldemort would spare her?"
Snape's breathing was weak, his face contorted in agony, as if reliving unbearable memories.
Then, Dumbledore spoke again. "Her son survived."
At those words, Snape's head jerked, as if shaking off an annoying fly.
"Her son is alive, with eyes just like his mother's—exactly the same. I'm sure you remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, don't you?"
"No!" Snape roared. "Gone… dead…"
"Is this remorse, Severus?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, his tone faintly mocking.
Snape clutched at his chest, gripping his robes in anguish. "I wish… I wish it had been me who died…"
"And what good would that do anyone?" Dumbledore said coldly. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then the path before you is clear."
James's expression twisted, as if he'd swallowed a fly. He knew of Snape's warped feelings for his wife, but having it thrown in his face like this was far from pleasant.
Anyone else would've been bad enough, but Snivellus…
He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on Snape.
Snape seemed shrouded in a haze of pain, Dumbledore's words taking ages to reach him.
"What… what did you say?"
"You know how and why she died," Dumbledore said. "Don't let her sacrifice be in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."
"He doesn't need protection anymore! The Dark Lord is gone—"
"The Dark Lord will return, and when he does, Harry Potter will face terrible danger."
A long silence followed. Snape gradually regained control, his breathing steadying. Finally, he said, "Very well… very well. But never—never tell anyone, Dumbledore! This stays between us! Swear it! I can't bear… especially Potter's son… I want your oath!"
"You want me to swear, Severus, never to reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore looked down at Snape's anguished, fervent face and sighed. "If you insist… but I must warn you, that boy may never understand what you've done, even until his death…"
The office dissolved, and the scene spun again.
Harry's expression was complex. He hadn't realized that Snape's inconsistent treatment of him—kind one moment, cruel the next—stemmed from his deliberate choice to play the villain.
Only by embracing the role of a villain could he avoid suspicion and serve effectively as a double agent.
But Harry hadn't considered the other side—perhaps Snape's disdain for him wasn't entirely an act, just as his occasional kindness wasn't entirely false.
The kindness came from Harry inheriting his mother's talents and eyes. The disdain was simpler: he looked like James.
In a way, Snape was playing himself.
Lupin and Sirius's gazes toward Snape shifted, especially Sirius, who, for the first time, showed a flicker of admiration.
If this was true, then old Snivellus wasn't entirely rotten.
"That's the whole story," Dumbledore said, abruptly cutting off the memory. He'd finally managed to piece together a positive image of Snape, and he couldn't let the next moment—Snape cursing James in the office—ruin it.
"In fact, Severus did keep his word," he continued. "In Harry's first year, Voldemort's remnant soul possessed Quirinus Quirrell, attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Severus and I were protecting Harry from the shadows."
James wasn't one to hold grudges forever, and for now, he set aside his old grievances.
"I'll admit, Snivellus… Severus," James said, using Snape's name with rare warmth. Of course, he'd never admit he switched to "Severus" because it flowed naturally from "Snivellus," making the transition seamless.
"Thank you for protecting Harry."
Snape's lips twitched downward. James's words weren't exactly heartfelt, and they even sounded a bit forced, but for this arrogant git, it was a rare concession.
Back in the day, even Professor McGonagall couldn't force James to say a kind word to Snape.
Harry stood, addressing Snape directly. "Thank you, Professor."
If his parents could let go, he had no reason to hold on.
"Thank you," Lily added softly. "Severus, thank you for everything you've done for Harry all these years."
Snape's face stiffened, and he turned his head away.
After a long pause, he muttered, "It's what I had to do."
"Well then…" Dumbledore rose, clearly pleased with the outcome. "How about we have a meal together in the Hogwarts Great Hall?"
"Great idea," Sirius said, lightening the mood. "It's been ages since we've eaten together. Lily, I've been dreaming of your cooking while I was in Azkaban…"
"Alright," Lily said, her eyes warm. "Tell me what you want, and I'll make it for you."
But as they stood, Perenelle Flamel hurried in, her brow furrowed.
Seeing them rise, she raised a hand to stop them. "I'd advise you not to leave this room just yet…"
"Why?" Sirius asked, puzzled. "Mrs. Flamel, has something happened?"
Perenelle lifted her other hand, clutching a stack of newspapers.
"Take a look at this," she said, her voice heavy with concern. "Because you used the gem to summon the Potters, the timeline has shifted slightly… This alchemy chamber shields you from the effects of timeline changes, but if you step outside, who knows what might happen."
Is it that serious?
The group exchanged glances. Harry stepped forward quickly, taking the newspapers from Perenelle.
It was The Daily Prophet.
He scanned the pages rapidly, with Veratia Grindelwald stepping up behind him to read over his shoulder.
The front page stopped Harry cold.
"Can Brave Rebel Tom Riddle Become Britain's Savior? Protecting the Nation from Empress Grindelwald's Tyranny"
The byline was, of course, Rita Skeeter, accompanied by a photo of a handsome middle-aged man delivering a passionate speech to a crowd of wizards.
It was Tom Riddle… er, Voldemort.
What in the world is going on?
Is this still Britain?
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