Harry knocked on the door. The sound echoed dully through the corridor stones. Neville stood beside him, shoulders slightly hunched, hands buried deep in the pockets of his robes. Neither of them spoke while they waited. They had done this before, several times over the past year, and the pattern had become familiar.
Knock. Wait. Enter. Awkward conversation. Longer silences. Then leaving again.
Harry knocked a second time.
A moment later Snape's voice came through the door.
"Enter."
Harry pushed it open. The office looked exactly as it always did, dim light, shelves of jars and books, parchment stacked in strict order across the desk. Snape sat behind it, quill in hand, eyes lifting immediately as the door opened.
"Potter." His gaze slid to the side. "Longbottom."
Neville nodded slightly. "Professor."
Harry closed the door behind them.
Snape set the quill aside.
"You're here again," he said slowly, "with no appointment and, I assume, no academic purpose."
Harry dragged one of the chairs out from the desk. The legs scraped softly against the stone floor. Probably on purpose.
"That's about right."
Snape's lip curled faintly.
Neville pulled the other chair over and sat down beside Harry.
They waited in silence until it started to become awkward. They had all grown used to it.
A year ago the room would have been unbearable like this. A year ago Harry might have drawn his wand the moment he stepped inside. Because a year ago the truth had landed on him like a collapsing wall. Snape had carried the prophecy to Voldemort. A handful of overheard words in a tavern had turned into the deaths of James and Lily Potter.
And it had almost ended Neville Longbottom's parents the same way.
Except Cassian had changed that part of the story.
Neville's parents were alive now. Whole again.
Harry's were still dead.
That part hadn't changed.
At first Harry had wanted something simple, a clear villain, someone to blame. Then Cassian had told him the rest. Snape hadn't known who the prophecy concerned. Not the Potters. Not the Longbottoms. Not Harry. Not Neville. Just a fragment of a prophecy and a foolish young man eager to gain favour with a monster.
Prophecies, Cassian had said, were rarely clean things. Most of them fulfilled themselves the moment someone believed in them. Harry had spent a year thinking about that...
Snape watched him carefully.
"If you're here," He said eventually, "to recreate the experience of sitting silently you could've just waited for the class."
Harry shrugged. "I wanted something more private."
Snape's eyebrow rose.
Neville coughed into his fist to hide a smile.
Harry leaned forward slightly. "I wanted to ask you something."
Snape's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. He knew what'd come next. Potter's questions were mostly about her.
"That statement has never once preceded a pleasant conversation."
"Probably won't start today," Harry said.
Snape waited.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "It's about my mum."
Snape went still. Like someone bracing against a blow they had expected but hoped not to receive.
Neville noticed it too. He leaned back a little in his chair. Lately, he's mostly there to be there. He noticed Harry wasn't thrilled to be alone with Snape, and he also knew Ron and Hermione couldn't take that space.
"...What about her?" Snape asked eventually.
Harry hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"I realised something," he said. "Everyone who tells me about her... they knew her later."
Snape said nothing.
"Sirius and Remus knew her at school," Harry continued. "But they were my dad's friends. Their stories always end with him being brilliant and heroic."
Snape's mouth tightened.
"My aunt 'hates' magic," Harry went on. "So anything she says about Mum comes out with jealousy underneath it."
Harry spread his hands slightly. "You knew her before all of that."
Snape stared at him for a long moment. "So you thought I was the best person to reminisce about Lily Evans?"
His tone was close to discomfort.
Harry nodded. "If you don't mind."
Snape looked down at the desk. His fingers pressed together, knuckles whitening slightly. For several seconds he didn't speak. When he finally did, his voice was tight.
"She lived two streets from mine."
Harry blinked. "In Cokeworth?"
"Yes." Snape's gaze remained on the desk as he spoke. "Your aunt and she were walking along the river path when I first approached them."
Neville shifted slightly. "Approached them?"
Snape gave him a glance. "Petunia Evans had taken something from her sister and was holding it above her head," he said. "Lily was attempting to retrieve it by climbing a tree."
Harry huffed quietly. "That sounds like Aunt Petunia."
Snape ignored the comment.
"She fell," he continued. "Badly."
Harry frowned.
"Was she hurt?"
"No." Snape paused. "She stood up, brushed the dirt from her knees, and began asking me how I knew she was magical."
Harry leaned forward slightly. "She wasn't scared of being different?"
"No," Snape said simply. "She was curious."
Neville got up and walked over toward the shelves behind Harry, glancing at the titles without really reading them.
"What was she like?" Harry asked.
Snape huffed slowly through his nose.
"Persistent," he said.
"That sounds good."
Snape's gaze sharpened. "It was exhausting."
Harry smiled faintly.
"She asked questions constantly," Snape continued. "About magic, about Hogwarts, about anything she didn't understand. If an answer didn't satisfy her, she asked again."
Harry tilted his head.
Snape squinted. James Potter's face, Lily Evans' eyes.
But something else was there too.
Snape looked away first.
Neville leaned against the bookshelf. "Gran says she's the most talented witch of her time."
"She was," he said quietly. "Even before formal training. Magic came easily to her."
"What did she want to do when she grew up?" Harry asked after a bit of silence.
Snape's jaw shifted slightly.
"For a time," he said, "she spoke about becoming a Healer."
Harry nodded slowly.
"She disliked seeing people hurt," Snape said. "She believed most problems could be solved if someone cared enough to try."
Harry glanced down at his hands.
"That's what Sirius said too."
Snape's fingers curled slightly against the desk.
"She had an unfortunate tendency to," he continued, "believe people could improve."
"My dad," Harry said.
Snape's eyes flicked up. "Yes."
Harry sighed softly. "I've seen the memories."
Snape studied him carefully. "You accept that more easily than I expected."
Harry shrugged. "People told me my dad was perfect for most of my life."
He rubbed the back of his neck again. "Turns out he was just a teenager who could be a right git."
Neville snorted quietly from the shelf.
Snape's mouth twitched, though it wasn't quite a smile.
"He was," Snape said dryly, "remarkably confident that the world existed for his amusement."
"Did he grow out of it?" Harry asked.
"...Eventually," Snape admitted reluctantly.
Harry looked up. "Professor."
Snape's eyes moved back to him.
"I know you didn't know who it was about," Harry added. "Prophecy."
"That ignorance," Snape said with a whisper, "does not absolve me."
Harry didn't argue. "You told Dumbledore," he said. "You tried to stop it."
Snape's jaw tightened. "I was too late."
Neville shifted quietly.
Harry sighed.
"For a long time," he said, "I thought I hated you."
Snape didn't react.
"That would've been understandable."
Harry shook his head.
"Professor R.- osier said something that stuck with me."
Snape looked up slightly.
"Prophecies only matter because people believe them." Harry added, then shook his head with a huff.
"Voldemort believed it," He said. "So he made it happen."
Snape said nothing.
Harry leaned back in the chair.
"I'm still angry sometimes," he admitted.
Snape nodded.
"That too is understandable."
Harry hesitated, then asked quietly, "Do you miss her?"
Snape froze. He almost said 'always' or 'every day' but he kept it between his sealed lips.
Instead, he said, "Yes."
Just that.
Harry looked at him carefully.
Snape's gaze had moved away again, toward the window.
"I suspect," Snape added after a moment, "that's unlikely to change."
Harry nodded. "I wish I'd known her."
Snape's voice, when he spoke again, was softer than Harry had ever heard it when he said, "You do resemble her in one respect."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"You ask too many questions," Snape said.
Harry laughed quietly. "Yeah. I do that."
He stood, pushing the chair back.
Neville followed.
Harry paused at the door. "One last thing."
Snape closed his eyes briefly, as though preparing himself. "Yes, Potter."
"What was her favourite flower?"
Snape blinked in surprise. "...Why?"
Harry shrugged. "Just wondering."
"Lilies," Snape said quietly. "And... petunias."
Harry smiled slightly.
"That figures."
Neville opened the door.
They stepped out into the corridor. Inside the office Snape remained seated. His gaze rested on the empty chair across from his desk. For years speaking Lily Evans' name had felt like reopening a wound that never quite healed.
Tonight it felt different. Still painful. Still uncomfortable. But for the first time in a very long while...
It also felt honest. And the boy with her eyes had listened.
***
Hermione had taken over one of the round tables in the club room. Parchment covered half of it. Ink bottles sat between stacks of letters. Daphne lounged to her right, Astoria beside her with a neat pile of sorted envelopes. Ginny had claimed the chair across from Hermione and kept nudging a letter open with the end of her wand. Luna sat sideways on her chair with her legs tucked up, reading a page upside down and humming softly.
A wooden plaque hung on the wall behind them.
H.E.A.R.T.
House-Elf Abuse Reduction Taskforce
When the club started, it had been a handful of students sitting round a table arguing about elf contracts and kitchen conditions. They wrote letters. They drafted proposals that nobody outside Hogwarts expected to read.
Then Cassian got involved. He didn't take over the club. He never did that with student projects. Instead he sent their papers to people who actually mattered. He pushed a draft into the Wizengamot with enough historical precedent that half the chamber had to take it seriously.
The law passed before the school year ended. Magical Britain added monitoring charms to the wardnet. The same magical infrastructure that tracked underage magic now flagged harm done to house-elves. Investigators followed. Fines landed fast. Repeat offenders lost household licences.
The credit went to the students. Cassian insisted on that. Now their work reached outside the castle.
Ginny waved a letter in the air. "You've got another one from Beauxbatons."
Hermione held out a hand. "Which student this time?"
"Gabrielle."
Hermione huffed with a smile.
Fleur Delacour had spent a year at Hogwarts during the Tournament. She joined several club meetings out of curiosity. She asked questions about contracts and magical consent, then quietly copied half their framework before she went back.
Beauxbatons now ran its own organisation.
Astoria leaned forward slightly. "That's quick."
"Fleur moves quickly," Hermione said.
Luna tilted her head. "She has very persuasive cheekbones."
Ginny snorted.
Daphne leaned over. "What are they calling theirs?"
Hermione checked the heading. "C.O.E.U.R."
Ginny blinked. "That sounds much more elegant than ours."
Luna smiled. "Ours has heart."
Hermione pretended not to grin at that.
She slid the letter into a new stack.
"That's not the only one."
She tapped another envelope.
Durmstrang.
Daphne raised a brow. "That one surprises me."
"Me too," Hermione admitted.
Krum too had attended their meetings while he stayed at Hogwarts during the Tournament. He rarely spoke. Mostly he watched Hermione argue with Ron and occasionally corrected a translation when they quoted Eastern European magical law.
When he returned to Durmstrang, the school changed leadership soon after.
Karkaroff fled. Without him, the faculty loosened. Krum used the moment.
"He started a student council committee," Hermione said, scanning the letter. "Focus on servant contracts and magical labour ethics."
Ginny blinked. "Durmstrang has a labour ethics committee."
"Apparently."
Astoria smiled faintly. "The world does change."
Hermione opened another envelope. "Master Ji," she said.
Master Ji had welcomed the reforms with interest. The magical academies in China already treated magical creatures differently from Britain. When Hermione sent her research notes, he responded with a series of revisions written in elegant calligraphy.
"He says they're implementing new contract standards in two provinces," Hermione said. "And translating the ward detection system."
Ginny blinked. "That fast?"
"He's connected to every part of the nation. Unlike our Headmaster, Master Ji can be quite fearsome," Hermione said. "Speed isn't a problem."
Luna turned a letter over in her hands. "This one smells like pine."
Hermione leaned over. "That's from Uagadou."
Astoria glanced up.
"They didn't need reforms," Hermione said. "Their magical culture already teaches coexistence with magical creatures. Abusing house-elves is considered disgusting there."
Ginny shrugged. "Good place."
Hermione skimmed the letter. "They're writing to support the international framework. Apparently they want to help draft shared guidelines."
Daphne tapped the table thoughtfully.
It started with a student club. Now the idea's moved across schools. Across countries. Across languages.
Letters arrived every week. Students from other academies asked questions. Professors requested copies of their research papers. Some schools proposed joint publications.
Astoria slid another letter across the table. "This one's from Salem."
Hermione opened it. "American academy wants to replicate the ward detection network. Like I could authorise that on my own. Daphne, pass it to your father please."
Daphne chuckled quietly. "He's probably as helpless but, will do."
Hermione shook her head. She stacked the letters carefully, organising them into neat groups.
International contacts. School initiatives. Ministry responses. And it kept growing.
Luna looked around the table. "We should publish another paper."
Hermione blinked. "Another one?"
"Yes," Luna said. "The first one explained the problem. The second one explained the law. The third one should explain how to change minds."
Ginny leaned forward. "That's actually a good idea."
Astoria nodded. "Culture matters as much as policy."
Hermione tapped her quill against the parchment, already thinking ahead.
Joint research. International collaboration. Student authors from five different schools. She looked up at the others.
"Alright," she said. "We'll write it together."
Daphne smirked.
"H.E.A.R.T. goes international."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
The work carried on.
As Cassian often said, love was the light that dispersed all darkness.
(Check Here)
"Tell the author I-"
Cnnection lost.
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