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Once his very first Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts came to an end, Albus Severus Potter cautiously rose from the table and started begrudgingly following the prefect who was supposed to lead the first years to the common room. His father's words replayed in his head.
"Albus Severus Potter, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin, and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."
His father certainly wouldn't mind the House Albus was sorted in, especially after what he had said earlier. The problem was that he did. His cousin, Rose, was sorted into Gryffindor, rendering him completely alone in the supposedly evil House of Salazar Slytherin. He remembered how James had teased him earlier that day at King's Cross. His brother was right, he supposed. He never really showed that Gryffindor sort of pride or bravery in the past. He was quiet. He was calculating. He was also very ambitious.
His parents had insisted that each of their children go to Muggle school so that they were exposed to the non-magical world before they went to Hogwarts. That way, they'd have a more well-rounded education. Out of his three siblings, Albus showed remarkable talent when it came to arithmetic and science. He ended up skipping a grade, and he completed Year 7 by the time he was sent off to Hogwarts. Lily was currently in Year 5, and James would've been in Year 9 had he remained in Muggle school.
During his Muggle school years, Albus was always at the top of his class. His aunt, Hermione, was always very proud of his success, and she frequently praised him for his good grades. Since Aunt Hermione herself was a Muggle-born, she was usually the one who helped the Potter children with their Muggle homework. Though he refused to admit this to himself at first, Albus realized that he showed some Slytherin qualities through his work, whether it be answering a certain question or going about something in a certain way. He was also able to solve the challenging puzzles in the Daily Prophet that his brother and sister had a truly difficult time solving. That was probably more of a Ravenclaw trait, but he thought it was worth remembering.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when the prefect called out the password for the common room: "Merlin."
All the first years scrambled into their new home that would be theirs for the next seven years. Everyone, Albus included, looked around in awe. Though they were deep in the dungeons, it still had an extremely homey feel to it. There were green banners on the walls, two fireplaces blazing with warmth, and large, leather-bound armchairs surrounding the area. There was a green sort of aura which came from the fact that their common room was situated right next to the Great Lake. As the prefect directed the first years to their dormitories, Albus stopped in his tracks to look at a large, magnificent portrait hanging just above the entrance to the dorms. It contained a man with shoulder-length, oily black hair framing his sallow, almost gaunt-looking face. He was dressed in black robes and had a noticeably hooked nose. His face had what seemed to be a permanently bitter expression. His cold, black eyes bored down on the young Slytherins who passed under him, and, suddenly, he looked directly at Albus. The raven-haired boy immediately looked down and scurried after the other first-years to the dorms.
Albus trekked up the stairs to his new room, and once he entered, he pulled his trunk to the foot of one of the four-poster beds, pulled out his nightclothes, and changed into them from his robes. He decided to survey the room to get an idea of who his new roommates were. Out of the four of them, he noticed a small boy with a pale, almost white pointed face and white-blond hair which was slicked back. He seemed to be staring at the wall. Wanting to get to know his new roommate better, he walked up to the boy. Immediately, he noticed that the boy had cold, gray eyes that were unmoving. Albus cautiously stuck out a hand.
"H-Hi. I'm Albus." The boy's gray eyes darted to meet Albus's emerald green ones.
"Hi. I'm Scorpius." Scorpius returned the handshake.
"As in Malfoy?" Albus asked. "At the train station, I overheard my Uncle Ron telling my cousin, Rose, to beat you on all your tests."
At this, Scorpius's body turned to face the boy talking to him. "Is that so? Well, I'm guessing that means you're the very first Potter in Slytherin, am I right?"
"I guess so." Albus struggled to think of a way to continue the conversation. "Erm — what classes are you looking forward to?"
"Definitely Defense Against the Dark Arts, and possibly Transfiguration. You?"
"Potions. I've been dreaming of it ever since I started school."
Scorpius has a puzzled look on his face. "So, for a few hours?"
Albus gave a hearty laugh. "Merlin, no! I went to Muggle school before Hogwarts." Albus immediately looked down, hoping that Scorpius wouldn't possibly criticize him for associating with Muggles. He didn't really hear the best things about the Malfoys, courtesy of Uncle Ron. He still had somewhat of a grudge against Draco, Scorpius's father. On the other hand, Albus's father constantly reminded him that the Malfoys, Draco in particular, were changed people. So, Albus had confidence that Scorpius wouldn't show the unpleasant bigotry that his father (and grandfather, for that matter) showed in his school days at Hogwarts.
To Albus's pleasant surprise, Scorpius's face lit up with fascination. "Really? What was it like, Muggle school?"
Albus sat down next to Scorpius. "Oh, it's loads of fun! We got to learn about different concepts in arithmetic, which is a little bit like Arithmancy. We learned a lot about chemistry, hence why I love Potions so much. We also learned a lot about literature. My favorite part about literature was when we read novels as a class."
"Novel? What's a novel?" Scorpius asked, genuinely curious.
Albus mentally kicked himself. He forgot that novels didn't really exist in the magical world.
"A novel is, basically — okay. How about this? Think about, let's say, a textbook. There are multiple chapters in them, right?"
"Right."
"So, a novel is basically that, but instead of info, it's telling a story. Get it?"
"Oh! Okay. I understand. What are some good — erm — novels that you think I should read?"
Albus was even more pleasantly surprised. Scorpius wanted to read a novel himself?
"Well, um, there's a good book called Watership Down. I can lend it to you. Only if you want," Albus quickly added.
"Wow. Nobody's been this nice to me. Ever. Thanks." Scorpius offered an appreciative smile.
"Well, we've always got to start somewhere, right?"
"Right. Thank Merlin it's Friday. We can actually sleep in tomorrow. 'Night, Albus."
"'Night, Scorpius." Albus returned to his own bed, and he got under the covers. He fell into a blissful sleep. Maybe Slytherin wouldn't be so terrible after all.
XXXXX
All of Albus's previous hopes about being the only Potter in Slytherin House were dashed starting on Monday when he entered the Great Hall. The past two days were mostly spent in the common room or in the library with Scorpius, so they didn't really interact with the other Houses. The two struck up an unusual friendship over the fact that both of them cared very much about their studies. Albus had told Scorpius about what it was like living in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Unbeknownst to Albus, after his parents got married, the young couple totally renovated and changed the place. Gone was the screaming portrait of Sirius Black's mother, and gone was the Black Family tree. What Albus did knw was that his father carefully stored his godfather's things in the attic, where Kreacher, their house-elf, lived.
Scorpius had told Albus about his life in Malfoy Manor. According to him, it was quite lonely. His grandparents handed off the manor to his father, wanting to rid their hands of it, and they moved to a smaller mansion nearby. Since his father didn't really need to work, he took up studying alchemy, and he published his findings in the Daily Prophet. Nonetheless, his family still had a bad name, and upon entering Hogwarts, Scorpius made it his personal mission to rectify the stigma that surrounded the Malfoy family after the Second Wizarding War.
On Tuesday, some pesky Gryffindors "accidently" made Albus's Mandrake cause the poor boy to pass out in Herbology. He, along with Scorpius, continually received contemptuous stares from the other Houses. The only people from the other Houses who were actually kind to Albus were his brother James, his cousin Rose, and cousins Victoire, Dominique, and Louis, Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's kids. Other than that, the only place where the green-eyed boy was actually treated nicely was in the Slytherin common room. He had written a letter to his parents explaining his troubles, and they were more than sympathetic with their response in the letter they sent in return. They offered their middle child with some much-needed words of encouragement. The only problem was that Albus couldn't expect his parents to physically come to Hogwarts to solve his problems. He'd have to deal with them on his own.
The other recurring instance that Albus couldn't shake off of him was the fact that the hooked-nosed man kept on staring intently at the young first year at every chance he got. Every time he was working on his assignments or was talking to Scorpius, he found the stern man watching him. In all honesty, this unnerved Albus. Who was this man to observe him so deeply? What had he done wrong?
After two more days of the same contemptuous glares, awful teasing, unhelpful reassurances from his brother and his cousin, and unnerving watchfulness from the hook-nosed man in the common room, he finally arrived at his first Potions class, the one class which he was actually looking forward to.
There was a man at the front of the room. He had wispy brown hair with a receding hairline. His rectangular frames hung at the end of his nose. He wasn't too tall, but he wasn't too short, either. He had an artificial-looking smile on his face as he greeted the first-year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. "Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Professor Oliver Elmsworth, and I welcome you to your very first Potions class! We won't be brewing actual potions until our third week of school, but our first two classes will be focused on learning how to use the cauldrons and the utensils needed to brew. We will also be going over some ingredients that can be found in the most simple potions. Can anyone tell me what you get with rat tails, porcupine quills, and billywing stings?"
Albus's hand immediately shot up. Professor Elmsworth's eyes swept the entirety of the room, but he deliberately ignored Albus. He chose a Hufflepuff girl on the other side of the room.
"Yes, Miss—"
"Williamson. The Wideye Potion?"
Albus rolled his eyes. How could she be so inept? Didn't she read the Potions textbook? It was so simple.
Elmsworth shook his head. "The Wideye Potion does have billywing stings, but that is incorrect. Anyone else?"
Albus kept his hand raised. Elmsworth swept the entirety of the room again, and he deliberately ignored Albus for a second time. Tired of waiting, Albus blurted out, "Sir, it's the Swelling Potion."
Elmsworth walked to where Albus was sitting. He was no longer smiling. "That is correct, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid I'll have to take ten points from Slytherin for talking out of turn. Also, another ten points for showing visual disrespect to another student. I saw you rolling your eyes."
"Professor, how do you—"
Elmsworth turned around slowly. He had that artificial smile on his face again. "If you're asking how I know your name, you look like a perfect replica of your father, Mr. Potter. As for talking back, detention tonight at seven." He turned back to the class. "Now, where were we?" Elmsworth walked back to the front of the room with his artificial smile plastered onto his face.
Albus grumbled under his breath. It seemed that his hope for Potions, his favorite subject, was thrown to the wind as well as all of his other hopes. Granted, he was excelling in all of his classes, but none of that made up for the fact that his House status prevented him from making friends with the other Houses. It seemed that the end of Voldemort's regime failed to remove the stigma that surrounded Slytherin. It was a pity, really. Slytherins weren't cunning and ambitious for nothing.
As the weeks progressed, Albus started to become a little more snarky and sarcastic towards the other Houses, save for his four cousins and brother. It was the only way he could be emotionally stable and not succumb to loneliness. Besides, he had Scorpius, and that was fine by him. He retained his top marks in all of his classes, but Potions was completely and utterly hopeless. When the class was assigned their first potion to make, Albus finished before everyone else. It was a perfect concoction with just the right amount of stirring and concentration, and Elmsworth decided that it was necessary to vanish Albus's hard work.
"I saw you didn't follow the directions. You didn't even open your book," he had said. "You really are an arrogant one, aren't you?" Elmsworth promptly pivoted back around, and he left Albus seething. To make matters worse, he "explained" to the entire class, "You shouldn't display such arrogance like our friend Mr. Potter here. He didn't even try to hide his skill. Ten points from Slytherin for lack of modesty." The next class wasn't better. Elmsworth's excuse for that class was that Albus didn't really have any skill and that he was cheating instead. Apparently, he saw Albus frequently dart to the table next to him when the boy was really looking at the clock, checking how much longer he had in class. Elmsworth took away twenty points from Slytherin for this "infraction."
By the end of the month, not even Scorpius could quell Albus's frustration.
"Why can't they just leave us alone?" Albus asked as he was walking briskly alongside Scorpius back from the Great Hall to the common room. The green-eyed boy was grabbing at chunks of his hair in exasperation.
"I guess it's sort of an undeserved punishment for being sorted into Slytherin," Scorpius offered meekly.
"But that's not fair! Scorp, you of all people should know the definition of 'unfair.' Why aren't you as exasperated? Don't you care?"
By this time, the boys reached the common room. Scorpius offered the password, and a door formed in the stone patch and let the two young Slytherins in.
Scorpius turned and faced his best friend. "Al, of course I care! I just don't want to waste my time and energy thinking about the gits who think Slytherins are evil."
Albus crossed his arms and groaned loudly. He walked to the couch on the right side of the room and threw himself down onto it. He was visibly fuming, and Scorpius had to proceed cautiously with his next words.
"Al, try to calm down," Scorpius said softly.
"Will being calm stop those hateful glares and awful comments?!" Albus snapped back.
"Sorry, mate," Scorpius replied, taking a step back.
Albus looked up, and his face softened quite considerably. "No, it's all right. I just need some alone time, if that's fine with you. You go on to bed. I'll meet you there in a little bit."
Scorpius stood there for a moment. Then, he nodded. "Right. G'night, Al."
"Night, Scorp." Albus's eyes followed Scorpius as his friend went up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.
Albus remained there with his knees huddled up against his chest. He watched as his housemates came in and went into the dorms. Some kids worked on homework. Others played board games. Soon, he was the only one left in the room. The silence was calming. It gave Albus a chance to think.
"So extraordinarily unlike your father," a deep, baritone voice drawled. Albus jumped a little, startled at how his silence was shattered. He immediately looked up at the portrait which was spying on him for the past month.
"I've been wondering when you'd finally speak to me, with you staring at me and all that. What's your name?"
The hook-nosed man raised an eyebrow. "Severus Snape. I see that you're quite observant, which is another trait your father didn't have."
So this is the Slytherin I was named after, Albus thought. He looked at Snape. "Sir, why do you keep on referring to my father? Did you know him?"
"Know him?" Snape scoffed. "I was his professor! For six miserable years, I had to deal with his cheek, defiance, and arrogance. He was most inept in my class."
Albus has an inquisitive look about him. "Which one?"
"Potions," he replied brusquely.
Albus's face broke into a grin. "Really? That's my favorite subject! Well, it used to be," Albus said, looking downcast at the end of his statement.
It was time for the former Potions teacher to look surprised. "Really? Now, that is something I was most certainly not expecting."
"I've loved Potions since I started learning about chemistry in Muggle school. After my first chemistry lesson, I made my dad buy me a cauldron and a potions kit for my birthday. I also made him get me several Potions books."
As Albus was talking about his love for the very subject his father hated, Snape's eyebrows were raising so much that they nearly reached his hairline once the young Potter was finished with his spiel.
"My, my, Mr. Potter. You really are your father's opposite. Would you care to tell me why you don't like the subject anymore?"
"Professor Elmsworth is such a git. He takes away points from me for no reason at all. During the first class, he took away points from me just because a stupid Hufflepuff didn't know the difference between Wideye and Swelling Potion. Yes, I did talk out of turn, but I had to serve detention that night! For saying the correct answer! When we brewed our first potion, he vanished mine just because I didn't look at the instructions. It was absolutely perfect. Elmsworth's purposely failing me, sir!"
Snape placed his forefinger and thumb on his chin. "Let me try to understand. You're saying that this Elmsworth is taking away points for your aptitude?"
"Yes, sir."
"That imbecile!" Snape exclaimed. "Which potion did he ask you to brew?"
"Draught of the Living Death, I think," Albus replied quietly.
Snape pinched the bridge of his hooked nose and sighed. "Idiotic and incompetent. The Draught of the Living Death is not supposed to be taught until sixth year, at least. It's a N.E.W.T. level potion! What was he thinking? But you say you had it perfectly? It was a clear color when you were finished brewing? It was a pale lilac halfway through?" Snape almost sounded hopeful, borderline desperate.
Albus, feeling more than elated to be talking to a former Potions Master who shared the same amount of enthusiasm as he, puffed out his chest proudly. "Yes, sir."
Snape looked awed. "Never in my short life have I come across a first year who is able to brew the Draught of the Living Death. You're probably the first competent Potter I have ever come across. And to think that fool vanished it!" The hook-nosed man paused for a moment. "Next time you have Potions, sneak a vial before class ends. I would very much like to see your abilities."
"I'll do just that, sir." Albus smiled for the first time in weeks.
"I overheard your rant to young Mr. Malfoy earlier. It seems that the hostility towards our House hasn't withered. Pity. And I thought that Minerva would have tried to quell this injustice."
"You know Headmistress McGonagall?" Albus asked, surprise written all over his face.
Snape sighed. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Isn't it obvious? Minerva was your father's Transfiguration teacher."
"Oh. I didn't really know that. All I knew was that she taught him."
The black-robed man face-palmed himself. "Didn't your father tell you anything?"
"No, not really. He probably doesn't like talking about his childhood much. Maybe because he didn't have much of one. Y'know, him being constantly on the run from Voldemort and all that. Every time I ask him about his childhood, he finds a way to divert the subject."
Snape nodded, taking in the information. "I see."
Albus sighed. "You're really nice, you know that? You haven't criticized me, ridiculed me, or humiliated me whatsoever. The Gryffindors think it's funny to make unsuspecting Slytherins like me pass out with a Mandrake. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs also decide it's a good idea to unite against us. You're a really good listener, too. The only other person I can talk to freely is Scorpius, but even then, I still can't tell him everything."
Snape's mouth fell slightly agape. He was clearly surprised at this simple praise. He wiped a tear before the boy could see.
The former Potions Master's tone softened. "You're very much like your grandmother, Lily. You have her eyes, but you also have her kindness. She was the only other person who has called me 'nice' before."
Albus's eyes widened. "Really? You knew my grandma? Tell me more about her."
Snape's voice softened. "All right, Mr. Potter. I'll tell you. Your grandmother and I met before we went to Hogwarts. She was probably the kindest, most forgiving person I ever met. We were friends for many years, until I made an idiotic decision and let my anger get the better of me. I accidentally called her the filthy word used to describe Muggle-borns."
Albus gasped. "Really? But why?"
"Your grandfather frequently bullied me whenever he had the chance to. I guess I let him win, for I lost my best friend because of it. It was an extremely dark time in my life. I was being drawn to the Dark Lord's cause, and by fifth year, I had gone in too deep. Your grandmother didn't like that at all. So, she did what she thought was the sensible thing, and she cut me off. She didn't give me a chance to apologize, either. At the time, I didn't understand. All I cared about was that I lost my only friend. I didn't stop to think about why I lost her. We went our separate ways after that. She went to the side of the Light. I drifted to the Dark. I got my Dark Mark, and the Dark Lord thought of me as one of his best Death Eaters."
Now, Albus's mouth was agape.
"Close your mouth! You're not an idiot as far as I can tell, so don't look like one!" Snape told young Albus vehemently.
Albus quickly brought his jaw back up. "Sorry, sir. I was just surprised at what you told me. Could you please finish your story? It's really interesting. I'd really love to learn more about my namesake!"
Snape had a surprised look about him again. "Namesake? What do you mean?"
"My name is Albus Severus Potter, sir."
This time, Snape made no show of trying to hide his tears. "Your father...did that?"
"Yeah!" Albus said proudly. "He said you were the bravest man he ever knew."
Snape took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from his face. "Well, this is a — erm — an unexpected surprise." Unbeknownst to young Albus, this was the first time in many, many years that Snape struggled to find the right words.
"That's why I want you to continue your story. I want to know why my dad said you were the bravest man he ever knew. You were probably really important to him for him to name his child after you."
"Well, .Albus, you should get to sleep. Tell your father that I'm...pleased with his name choice. I can tell you the rest of the story tomorrow, but it would be extremely pitiful if you so happen to start failing your classes. I gather that you have Potions tomorrow?"
"Yes, sir."
"Try your best to aggravate and anger Elmsworth like your father aggravated and angered me in the past. Merlin knows he actually deserves it."
Albus smiled. "Will do, sir. Goodnight, Professor Snape."
"Goodnight, Albus."
Albus walked to the boys dormitory, content with how the evening turned out. Little did he know that his father would go absolutely nuts over the fact that his son actually confided in the very teacher he hated the most in his youth. Oh, the irony.
XXXXX
Albus hurried back to the common room with Scorpius. He had declined to tell him about his interesting conversation with his father's former professor's portrait, so Scorpius didn't have a clue as to why his best friend was in such high spirits all of a sudden. Albus acted very annoyingly towards Elmsworth in class earlier today and managed to aggravate the hell out of him, and he even managed to sneak a vial of the potion they brewed in class before his teacher unfairly vanished it. It was the much more simple Wiggenweld potion, but he had decided that he would try to brew the Draught of the Living Death again just to show off his prowess to his new portrait friend. While the first years had a free period, Albus brewed the complex potion in a separate classroom using the ingredients he had in his potions kit. Now, he had the Draught of the Living Death and its antidote ready to show Snape, who would undoubtedly be proud.
"Scorp, I'm gonna stay here a little bit again. You can go on up."
"But why?" Scorpius asked, confused. "I thought you were in a better mood."
"Oh, it's nothing to do with that. Nothing to do with you, either. It's just that the silence in here is really calming. I also still kind of need some alone time." Albus hoped that it would be a good enough excuse.
Scorpius looked unsure. "All right, mate. See you in a bit." He patted his friend's shoulder. Then, he went up to the dorm.
Albus sat in the same spot as last night and waited for all the kids to clear out of the common room. At long last, after an hour and a half, silence filled the room once again.
When Albus was sure no one would hear, he greeted the portrait on the wall.
"Good evening, Professor Snape!"
"Hello, Mr. Potter," Snape replied. "Did you make Elmsworth's life miserable today?" he asked conspiratorially, smirking a little.
"I made sure none of the actions I committed would be severe enough to land me detention, but would be severe enough to make Elmsworth's life bloody hell."
"Language, Mr. Potter," Snape scolded.
"Sorry, Professor. I managed to sneak a vial of the Wiggenweld Potion we brewed today before the balding git vanished my concoction. I also brewed another Draught of the Living Death to show you. The vials are in my pocket."
Albus took out the two small vials and walked up to the portrait. He held them both high enough so that Snape could see them clearly.
"Impressive work, Mr. Potter. You'd make a fine Potioneer someday, or even an Auror. Potion making is very useful for many professions," Snape praised.
Albus walked back to the couch and sat back down. "Thank you, sir. You said that you'd continue the story last night," Albus added, wanting to get straight to the point.
Snape nodded. "All right. I'll continue." He took a deep breath, exhaled, and continued from where he left off.
"After a few years of being a Death Eater, the Dark Lord said that he required a spy to infiltrate Dumbledore's organization, the Order of the Phoenix. He chose me. I applied for a job at Hogwarts as a Potions professor so I could properly spy on him and bring information back to the Death Eaters. I got the job, and I started spying." Snape stopped speaking.
"And?" Albus asked. "There must be more to the story than that. Why did my dad say you were the bravest man he ever knew? What did you do that made him name me after you?"
Snape's eyes were downcast. His next words were said with raw pain and anguish. "Honestly, Mr. Potter, I have absolutely no idea."
The two remained there in silence, not knowing what else to say.
XXXXX
Albus sat in the common room for a long time. Without looking at the portrait, he spoke. "Professor, why aren't you proud of your deeds? You're responsible for saving the entire Wizarding World, you know. I don't really know the details of how that came to be, but my dad always told me that if it weren't for you, he wouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort."
Snape sighed. "Mr. Potter."
Albus looked up.
"I don't know how I can make you understand that my actions were never noble. All of the things I did were for one person, and that was your grandmother. It was self-serving. I don't feel worthy of the praise you are so adamant about giving me. I really don't."
"But I don't understand, sir," Albus argued. "You deserve recognition for once in your life! From what I can tell, you never really got it. My dad told me that my grandmother, Lily, always wanted the best for people. She wanted people to be recognized for their good deeds."
"Oh, I know that," Snape drawled.
"So please accept the recognition! I will make sure that my dad lobbies for it! My grandmother would be so happy if she saw that her best friend saved the Wizarding World and prevented many families from suffering Voldemort's evil regime! Please, Professor. Please!" At this point, Albus was on his knees, begging for the former Potions Master to at least accept this one form of gratitude.
Snape sighed. "I'm quite sure your grandmother is really looking down upon me with fiery eyes of contempt."
"But why?" Albus asked impatiently. "Why? Just because you called her a Mudblood?"
"NO!" Snape thundered, and young Albus shrank back in fear. "No," Snape repeated calmly, tears falling freely from his face. "Not because I called her that filthy word, but because I inadvertently caused her and your grandfather's untimely deaths."
"What do you mean?" Albus asked, his lips trembling. "I thought that Peter Pettigrew gave away their location and betrayed them."
Snape hung his head. "But I was the one who gave the prophecy."
Albus looked up. "Prophecy?" he asked, nonplussed.
"Doesn't your father tell you anything?" Snape asked irritably. "The prophecy which forced your father to fight and eventually kill the Dark Lord was provided to him by me! After he figured out what the prophecy meant and targeted your father's family, I knew what I had done wrong. I immediately ran back to Dumbledore, asked him for forgiveness, asked him to hide your grandmother, grandfather, and father. I said I would do absolutely anything in return if it meant protecting your grandmother and her family. So, he enlisted me as his spy, and I started working for the side of the Light. After your grandparents died, he made me vow to protect your father at all costs. I agreed. Since then, I spent the last seventeen years of my life spying, protecting, and fighting. Of course, I succeeded in the end, or I wouldn't be talking to you at this moment, would I?"
Albus had tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry that you never got to experience true happiness in your life! I'm so, so sorry." He put his head in his hands, and he sobbed. The young Slytherin never heard such a tragic, upsetting story in his entire lifetime.
Once Albus's tears subsided, he looked up at the man who was the bravest man his father ever knew.
"Thank you," Albus finally said.
"For what?" Snape asked.
"For making mine and countless others' existences possible."
Snape hesitated, but then he decided to follow through with his next words. "You're welcome, Albus." He smiled for the first time in years.