Archive of Our Own

Severus Snape jerked his head up in astonishment as Potter's blasted owl landed in front of his plate with a loud thump before thrusting her taloned claw forward to drop a parchment roll in front of him. By the time he had picked it up, all eyes in the Great Hall were focused on him. How could they not be when the scene set before them was so odd? The Headmaster's Golden Boy sending him the Greasy Git of Slytherin an owl? It was not as if the blasted snow-white owl would not stand out against his black robes like the moon on a starless night.

Unrolling the parchment as he searched the room for Potter, he was somehow not surprised to see the pest slipping between immense doors at the Great Hall's entry before he closed them behind him. No matter. If this was a prank, the boy's final leaving feast or no, there would be ample time the following morning for Severus to revenge himself on the prat.

Glancing down to scan over the message quickly, however, Severus felt his throat tighten and his hand begin to shake.

“Severus, whatever has he given you?” Headmaster Dumbledore inquired with concern, noting the Potion Master's paling visage.

Unable to explain, Severus handed it to his mentor and dropped in his seat, even as he remembered feeling the tingle of the boy's magic locking the wards down that would hold the doors shut until he released them or died. it was a precaution and a concession that he had won from the Headmaster before the final battle. Not even the Headmaster's full strength reducto could disable it; Potter had seen to that, refusing to believe that the elderly wizard would not be driven by a last minute bout of empathy into putting himself at risk for the boy's sake.

After the Headmaster read it in grim silence, the parchment was passed back and forth until it landed in his lap once again.

“No,” Severus protested, trying to pass the parchment back to the Headmaster, “It would be better if you would read it. He...”

“He ... sent it to you, Severus. You're the one he's chosen to read his parting thoughts. Please honor his wishes.”

Sighing, Severus nodded and stood, his movements silencing the curious students before he had the opportunity to blow off a portion of the emotions blooming in his heart and mind since he'd first read the note. Straightening to face his task, Severus in a rare show of nervousness cleared his throat, before he began reading:

There's no good way to say what I want to say or write what I want to write. I don't have Hermione's gift with words nor Ron's bullheaded willingness to say whatever he wanted to... So I guess there's nothing to do but say it in my normal dunderheaded way.

I'm screwed to put it bluntly. Anyone surprised? It's pretty much status quo – isn't it? What I guess I mean to say, is that I'm pretty permanently screwed this time. Or so I'm told.

I shouldn't really be surprised, though. It makes sense that you can't have a worm of a dark lord crawling around in your head all your life and then just magically cut it out without it doing something to your said, and supposedly existent, brain. But, that's what I did: killed him and really truly hoped to be done with it. Maybe that should have been enough to tell someone that I'd given myself a hefty dose of brain damage.

Come to think of it, though, Snape's said it a couple of times, but then he's said it so many times over the years, I'd gotten used to it and didn't stop to wonder whether he was on to something; at least, not until recently.

It's kind of hard not to wonder, though, when you're looking straight at your best mates' headstones and can't remember who they were were to you or how they died, when you were there when it happened. At first, I'd thought maybe shell shock or battle stress or whatever you want to call it, but then other stuff that had nothing to do with the war started doing an apparation act from my memory, too: like what pumpkin juice is called, what my wand was... and just a lot of other things have been slipping away, and more and more of them aren't coming back... and I guess, by now, most of you probably realize that I am not either.

Please don't get all maudlin, though; just try to remember that I am walking away with this night as my best and last memory of my life wrapped tightly around me. My last moments have been filled with laughter and warmth of friends and the company of people that I love and admire and never want to forget. What more could I ask?

Please forgive me, but try to understand I'm leaving at the height of my life with my best moments still in the front of my mind, while you have the best moments ahead.

With that in mind, please know that I wish each of you the best and brightest of futures, and will be waiting with my parents, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, Cedric, Luna, Seamus, and Draco for each of you when your own adventure ends.

Until then, yours faithfully,
Harry Potter,
The Boy who lived long enough.

The attendees sat in stunned silence as Severus's voice trailed off, and he looked around solemnly, allowing his gobsmacked audience to notice the crystal glaze of tears running down his cheeks as his voice rose into the silence: “While I am often loathe to agree with Gryffindors, I would encourage you to honor Mr. Potter's final wishes by spending the remainder of the festivities reminding yourselves of the memories that he holds in such esteem.”

“What a wonderful final note,” the headmaster murmured to him softly as he rose and faced the attendees, “If I may begin... I would like to remind you all of an event in Luna Lovegood's first year when she decided that passwords were unfair so somehow convinced Hogwarts, herself, to change all passwords to random words so that you might say something as simple as 'yes' and doors would swing open, or worse shut and lock, as Minerva found while rousting two amorous teens out of a broom closet.”

After the tittering and laughter died down, Professor McGonagall rose and shared a tale of her own, regaling the audience with a memory of Winky, the House Elf's first reaction to the Headmaster's laundry and then the Headmaster's reaction when he found his entire wardrobe magically dyed auror black. After her, Professor Flitwick shared a tale reminiscing on the late Professor Hooch's appreciation of elderberry wine. Hagrid shared a brief memory of Snape's first reaction to acromantula, then broke up the audience mumbling, “Ough, I shouldn'a said that.” Professor Trelawny followed, and later Professor Sinestra took up the tale circle when Snape had quietly removed himself on feeling the wards dropped during the laughter stirred by Professor Flitwick's tale.

By the time, Professor Binns had finished his long, marginally humorous tale of his first attempt at tutoring Hagrid, as a first year, in the ramifications of using dragon's against Goblins during the fifth Goblin war and finding the task nearly insurmountable because he inevitably ended up tutoring Hagrid on the mechnics of Dragon flight, Severus had returned, without comment, and relayed his own tale of Percy Weasley, then the Headboy, and his first known prank – against Professor Lockhart of all people.Ginny Weasley, the nominated Headgirl for the following year, stood in lieu of the late Hermione Granger and picked up the story with her mother and twin brothers' reactions on hearing of his prank the night before his graduation.

Every student regardless of house affiliation, age, or infirmity stood at least once to tell their own story, and many stood at twice and three times. The reminiscences continued through into the morning with the house elves clearing dinner trays for hors d’oeuvres trays and the hors d’oeuvres for breakfast trays until the Headmaster and staff lead them down to Hogsmeade station.