The door to the headmaster's office swung open.
A streak of black shot inside like a gust of wind.
"Dumbledore."
The man's voice was cold enough to chill the air. The temperature in the room seemed to drop the instant he spoke.
"Don't rush, Severus."
Dumbledore loosened his hands from where he'd been deep in thought and gestured for him to sit.
"Tea or coffee?"
"I'm not here for tea or coffee. Dumbledore." Severus Snape's sallow, shadowed face looked even darker tonight. Every word he spoke sounded like it carried damp wind from some pitch-black abyss, cold and heavy enough to seep into bone.
"Tell me what happened to Harry Potter. What went wrong with him?"
"I don't know."
Dumbledore shook his head. "If you want an explanation for why this happened to Harry, then my answer is that I truly don't know."
"I can't make sense of it. None of it adds up…"
"This situation is beyond anything I'd call magical. I went through every book I could remember, but not a single one mentions anything remotely like this."
Snape's brow tightened as Dumbledore spoke. A dangerous light flickered behind his eyes. His feelings toward Harry Potter were a mess even he couldn't fully describe.
Guilt. Regret. Pain. Jealousy. Self-loathing. Memories spilled together like someone had knocked over a palette of colors that mixed into gray, chaotic mud.
"But I can promise you one thing, Severus. Harry isn't in danger. At least not for now."
"And later?" Snape's voice was low.
"No one knows what tomorrow brings."
A loud crack rang through the room.
Snape had stepped right up to the desk. His left hand slammed down onto the wood.
"He's Lily's only child. You promised me. You swore you'd keep him safe."
"Yes, I did. And I haven't forgotten, Severus." Dumbledore pressed a calming hand downward, signaling him to sit.
"But since you're here, there's something important I need to tell you."
"About him?"
Snape sat, frowning, a strange unease creeping up the back of his neck.
"Yes. About Harry. What I'm about to tell you may overturn everything you thought you knew. But it's real. It's already happened."
Snape's fists tightened. He stared hard at Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles, at the clear blue eyes behind them.
"Maybe you should drink some tea first."
Dumbledore flicked a finger. The teapot lifted into the air and poured out a steaming cup. A faint bitterness drifted up from it.
"Mandrake nectar and aconite?"
Snape sniffed it once and frowned. "Why give me this?"
"For your… physical safety, I suppose."
Dumbledore didn't elaborate. Under his silent urging, Snape downed half the cup in one go. He tasted the mild sedative and muscle relaxant immediately. Nothing dangerous, just something to smooth out frayed nerves. As a master of potions, he could identify every ingredient without effort.
"Now can you speak?"
He set the cup down with a sharp clack.
"Of course."
Dumbledore straightened. His expression turned solemn.
"What I'm about to say is the truth. Please stay calm, no matter what you hear, Severus."
They locked eyes in silence for several seconds. Then Dumbledore spoke.
"Harry, or rather Holly, is a girl."
A dull thump followed.
Snape had tipped sideways and banged his forehead on the desk.
He dragged in a long breath, then pushed himself upright, his expression tight enough to crack.
"You're certain? Dumbledore?"
"I saw her with my own eyes." Dumbledore nodded. "I thought about it for three hours after returning, and I still can't make sense of it."
"Petunia and Vernon told me their theory. Something about it feels wrong, yet I can't find a single piece of evidence to disprove them."
Dumbledore summarized the explanation Petunia had given him. Snape stared, utterly thrown.
"So they believe Lily hid Harry's real sex to protect him?"
"That makes no sense…" Snape waved a hand sharply. "It's absurd."
"I agree. I'm convinced there's something we're missing. But the cause isn't the priority. What matters is Holly now."
"What about her?"
"Before I explain further, Severus, I need your word on something."
"Is it that serious?" Snape asked. His mind was still spinning from the revelation, but he was good at locking away his emotions. Barely, but enough to function.
"I need you to promise that whether at Hogwarts or outside it, you won't disrupt Holly's normal life."
A flurry of guesses flashed through Snape's mind. He discarded each one.
"…Fine. I promise."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Then let me show you."
He raised his wand. A stone basin slid from a cabinet. He touched the wand to his temple, pulling free a thin silver strand, and let it fall into the Pensieve.
Silvery smoke swirled upward, forming a cloud that projected the memory.
Dumbledore and Hagrid arriving at the Dursleys'.
When the memory shifted from the doorway to the living room and Holly appeared on the screen for the first time, Dumbledore glanced at Snape.
Snape went still.
His mind, usually a fortress no curse could punch through, cracked open. His eyes reddened. He stared at the girl in the memory. His vision blurred.
A wave of grief hit him so hard he forgot to breathe. Pain and longing twisted together, burned away into ash, and from that ash rose a desperate, trembling spark of hope.
Snape surged to his feet. His black robes whipped upward without wind, magic boiling off him in frantic bursts. In that instant, he looked darker than Voldemort himself.
But his expression was nothing like a dark lord's.
He looked lost. Then overwhelmed. Then quietly, unbearably happy. Tears slipped down his face in two thin, shining lines.
"Lily…"
The word fell out of him, soft and weak, like a dying man stumbling into the oasis he thought he'd never reach.
"She isn't Lily."
Dumbledore's voice cut through the illusion. Calm. Unshaken.
"She's Lily's child, but she isn't her. You must remember that, Severus."
"I…" Snape's voice went hoarse. He forced out the words. "I need time to calm down."
"Go. But remember what you promised me."
Snape didn't respond. He wiped his cheeks once, turned, and walked out without looking back.
Faint laughter drifted from the hall outside. A wild, cracked laugh that carried a trace of tears drying on a broken face.
The sound was unhinged. Frightening.
Like the red character for "double joy" glowing behind a pale wedding curtain, accompanied by the blare of a suona horn.