Chapter Text
Kingsley was waiting patiently for Dumbledore to arrive. The chatter of all the other Order members filled the room. They all liked to play pretend, but Kingsley knew they were all well aware that the meeting didn’t truly start until the Headmaster of Hogwarts arrived. No one could deny he was the leading force behind the Order of the Phoenix. The Order was named after his pet after all.
The Order was currently seated around the dining table of Grimmauld place. Sirus was trying to get Tonks to change her nose to look like a duck’s beak, while she was stubbornly refusing. Remus was watching them argue with a small, amused smile, occasionally glancing toward the door. He too was anxious for the meeting to start.
Moody was his paranoid self like usual, his brilliant, blue eye rolling in its socket like a creepy muggle doll’s. Arthur was involved in an ardent discussion with Mrs. Weasley on whether or not the twins should be allowed to get a Muggle driver’s license. Well, to be honest, Mrs. Weasley was the one doing most of the talking. Mr. Weasley was getting a few half sentences in here and there, all beginning with, “But the muggles–”
Kingsley was a very observant man, so when Moody’s mad eye suddenly stopped its roving and focused on the door, Kingsley froze and stared as well. He, like many of the Order members, was particularly eager to hear from Headmaster Dumbledore, hopefully concerning their missing spy. For missing Severus Snape was, and had been for several days.
One day he was teaching at Hogwarts as his usual dour, cranky self, and the next he had vanished into thin air. Dumbledore had deigned to inform them that he had received a summoning from He Who Must Not Be Named. However, that was three days ago. Snape was supposed to give his report right after the Death Eater’s meeting, but, due to his disappearance, the Order meeting had been postponed.
Many people had wondered what had become of their rather suspicious spy. Some had made up their minds rather quickly and vocally on the matter, namely Sirius Black, who just minutes ago had been proclaiming that Snape had finally betrayed them once and for all to the Dark Lord. That was why he no longer dared to show his ‘crooked, greasy, Death Eater nose to the Order’. This declaration was spouted with many a ‘told-you-so’, a point which no one could refute.
Finally, Dumbledore had called a meeting, and tonight they would learn if their one and only spy had finally showed his true colors.
Sirius noticeably perked up when Dumbledore opened the door. His old, lined face was set in a very grim expression, and the twinkle was seemingly gone from his eye. Kingsley, who had always had a gift for reading people, was surprised to see a faint air of irritability about him. Then again, who could blame him, what with the recent turn of events?
“Dumbledore!” Sirius exclaimed, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, and there was an undercurrent of glee. He always did love rubbing the fact that he was now master of the house that had rejected him into the world’s face.
Not noticing the lack of twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye for his favorite former Gryffindor, Sirius continued. “Have you got news on the greasy traitor?” he asked, his face twisting into an ugly expression. “I knew the sniveling coward would run off and betray us sooner or later!”
“You did, did you?” Dumbledore replied, still standing in the doorway, Fawkes perched upon his shoulder. His powerful aura emanated off of him, filling the room. “Well, I am sorry to say I do have news and it is not good. It appears we have indeed lost our spy.”
The room erupted into outroar, with Moody and Sirius Black being the loudest by far, but the others also contributing their feelings of disgust. Kingsley himself simply watched Dumbledore, wary. The wizard had an odd glint in his eyes, as if he knew something they did not. However, he did not seem upset, which was something Kingsley would have been expecting, considering the numerous times Dumbledore had vouched and stuck his neck out for their treacherous turncoat.
“There is something we must discuss,” Dumbledore declared suddenly, and everyone turned to him, astonished. Unfortunately, their rude, blunt, former spy wasn’t there to say for them the word running through all of their heads. Obviously.
Dumbledore finally stepped out of the doorway, and, as he did, he made an odd gesture, as though ushering someone in. No one stepped through however, much to the perplexation of the Order. Kingsley, monitoring Dumbledore’s expression closely, saw him grit his teeth and let out an exasperated sigh. Without further ado, Dumbledore turned around and seemingly yanked a child out of thin air.
“Will you stop that?” Dumbledore asked the child sharply as the young boy, who couldn’t be much older than five, tried to hid back behind Dumbledore’s purple robes. “I have quite enough on my plate without your childish behavior.” Kingsley blinked at the harshness of Dumbledore’s tone.
“You said I could have a lemon drop if I came with you to the meeting,” the boy whined. “Here I am, and no lemon drop.” He let out a huff, then turned to the utterly befuddled Order, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in an oddly familiar manner. “Did you all miss me?” Kingsley cocked his head at the odd question.
“Who is this?” Sirius asked, eyeing the boy suspiciously. “Did that greasy git leave a child behind in his rush to join the Dark side?”
Kingsley frowned, taking a closer look at the child, who was now pulling at Dumbledore’s robes and demanding his lemon drop. He was a skinny, short little thing, with pencil-straight black hair and chubby cheeks. The chubby cheeks didn’t exactly scream Severus Snape, but the boy’s nose, while small and unobtrusive, lacked the adorable, button-nose quality most little children’s noses possess. Kingsley could easily see puberty transforming it into Snape’s. Also, the boy’s eyes, glittering black and ringed with notably long lashes, were eerily similar to their missing spy’s.
The boy ceased his current task of giving a surprisingly resistant Dumbledore puppy-dog eyes and shot Sirius a look of pure irritation. Yes, that child is a Snape if ever I saw one, Kingsley thought.
“Don’t call me that,” the boy said with a scowl, then his eyes fell on the biscuits on the table and his entire expression lit up. “Ooh! Can I have one? I’m starving!” He turned his puppy-eyes on Mrs. Weasley, somehow instinctively knowing where to best direct his pleading.
“Of course, you poor thing!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, leaping out of her chair to pull him over to the table and sit him down beside her. She handed him several biscuits, which he quickly began munching on. As he ate, he started to hum tunelessly in a way that grated on Kingsley’s musically-inclined ears.
“Don’t baby him, Mrs. Weasley,” Dumbledore said with a sigh as he sat down at the table. The way he rested his head on his hands as though in defeat set Kingsley on edge. Perhaps he is just stressed out from suddenly being responsible for a child, especially one related to Snape, Kingsley tried to reason.
“He is not Snape’s child. He is Snape.”
Silence.
Everyone stared at Dumbledore and at the little boy chipperly nibbling on biscuits.
The boy glanced up, noticing their stares. He smiled and waved a biscuit at them.
“What…?” Kingsley began hesitantly, then trailed off, staring at the smiling child who in no way humanly possible could be Severus Snape.
“Lucius Malfoy was kind enough to drop him off at Hogwarts about an hour ago,” Dumbledore began to explain, his voice grim. “He claimed Severus was using the potions labs at Malfoy Manor, attempting to create the mythical Eternal Youth potion, when it exploded onto him, rendering him a youth.”
“Lucius is such a liar,” the boy, Snape, stated bluntly, licking his fingers in a decidedly un-Snape-like manner. “If I tell you what really happened, can I have a lemon drop?”
“Severus, you looking like a child is no reason to act like one,” Dumbledore said, his lips pressed in a thin line. “You will share any and all relevant information you have with the Order as to why you allowed your position as a spy to be jeopardized.”
Snape pouted. “I didn’t have a choice,” he griped. “The Dark Lord wanted a potion to restore him to his prime, and when I told him I could not guarantee the success of the potion, nor did I have an antidote, he made me test it on myself!”
“And that took three days?” Dumbledore asked. Kingsley watched as Snape averted his doe eyes away from Dumbledore’s own piercing blue eyes.
“Some necessary ingredients took a while to procure,” he mumbled.
“What ingredients?” Dumbledore interrogated, but the boy’s gaze grew distant, dark eyes becoming hollow tunnels, and Kingsley could tell he was Occluding. “Severus?” Dumbledore prodded, and the boy’s eyes abruptly lost their hollow cast.
“Do you know that if you add vinegar to bleach, it will create chlorine gas?” Snape asked out of the blue. “But if you mix vinegar and baking soda it creates an endothermic chemical reaction.”
For the first time in Kingsley’s life, he saw Dumbledore look completely and utterly flummoxed. “You… made the potion with vinegar and baking soda?”
Snape let out a childish giggle. “No, I just thought it was interesting. Do you want to hear a knock-knock joke?”
Kingsley had never seen Dumbledore look so frustrated. “What was in the potion, Severus?” he demanded.
“Knock, knock!” Snape looked at Dumbledore expectantly.
“Enough with the playing around,” Dumbledore stated, his voice sounding deceptively calm. “Have you completely forgotten what’s at stake here?”
“Knock, knock!” Snape repeated insistently.
Dumbledore slammed his hand on the table, and Snape flinched, his cheerful attitude slipping away. Grabbing his chin, Dumbledore stared into Snape’s startled gaze. A few awkward seconds passed before Dumbledore roughly released Snape with a disappointed head shake.
“Nothing,” he stated flatly to the Order. “His adult memories are hidden away in his head, the emotions stripped from them to create walls so strong even I cannot pierce them.” Dumbledore placed a hand on Snape’s shoulder. “Severus,” he said gently. “What is the worst thing you have ever experienced?”
Snape blinked, cocking his head. “Nothing really bad has ever happened to me,” he replied promptly, then frowned. “I suppose I was sad when Mum didn’t like the picture I drew her.”
Kingsley frowned, starting to grow very concerned. One moment, Snape sounded like he remembered everything, and the next he sounded like he was just a clueless five-year-old.
Dumbledore leaned forward intently. “Do you remember when your mother died during your fifth year at Hogwarts?”
Snape shrugged. “Of course I remember!”
“Wasn’t that worse than when your mum didn’t like your drawing?” Dumbledore questioned.
Snape seemed to think for a moment, and for a second Kingsley thought he saw a bit of pain in his eyes, but then they became emotionless pits of darkness. He was clearly Occluding.
“Severus?” Dumbledore squeezed Snape’s shoulder.
Snape seemed to snap out of a trance, a carefree attitude enveloping him. “Look what I can do!” he stage-whispered as he hid his sole remaining biscuit in his cupped, little hands. He scrunched his eyes closed, a little furrow appearing between his brows, before he opened them again. “Tada!”
Snape opened his hands, and Mrs. Weasley flinched backward with an exclamation of surprise, causing everyone to automatically reach for their wands. There, cupped in the boy’s hands in place of the biscuit, was a wolf spider the size of one of his palms.
“Isn’t it so cool?” Snape asked, glancing to Dumbledore for approval and raising the spider towards him for his perusal. His smile faltered when Dumbledore couldn’t help but cringe away.
“The trick isn’t done yet!” he announced, as though reassuring them all. He hid the spider away in his cupped hands and closed his eyes again. After a second, his eyes shot open and he proclaimed, “Surprise!” and opened his hands once more.
Everyone hesitantly glanced where the spider used to be, worried it had been replaced with an even more loathsome creature. Kingsley personally was bracing himself for the sight of a rattlesnake, and was pleasantly surprised when a peacock butterfly fluttered up. It flapped in place for a moment, showcasing its rusty red wings with their large blue and yellow eye spots, before coming to rest on Snape’s tiny pinky.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Snape asked, turning to Dumbledore, and Kingsley was struck by how anxious he seemed to be for the old wizard’s approval. It looked exactly like a little child turning to his father after performing a sloppy but enthusiastic cartwheel, eager for applause.
Dumbledore noticed as well, and he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching upwards in a smile. “Yes, it is beautiful,” he relented with a sigh, and Snape positively beamed. “Indeed, it reminds me of a recent transformation equally as startling,” Dumbledore added. “I must say, I never foresaw losing both my teacher and spy in such a manner.”
“I can still teach!” Snape exclaimed, and Kingsley smiled, imagining that same high-pitched, innocent sounding voice saying ‘ten points from Gryffindor’. “In fact, I’ve got loads of new ideas for my next few lessons,” Snape continued. “I was going to teach boring things like shrinking potions, but I realized it would be much better to teach them all how to brew Shimmer Bubble Butterfly potion!”
“Shimmer Bubble Butterfly potion?” Remus questioned, a smile quirking at his lips. Oh, no, Kingsley thought, glancing from one Order member to another and finding the same smile. Once we get him back to his regular state, they are never going to let him live this down. We will get him back to his regular state, right?
For once, Snape didn’t automatically look at Remus with intense dislike. Instead, he jumped at the opportunity to explain. “It’s this potion I invented! When it is finished, it emits bubbles of every color, and when you pop the bubbles, they turn into butterflies! I really like butterflies,” he added in a stage whisper.
“I can tell,” Remus replied, smile widening.
Snape stood up on his seat to lean toward Remus, a matching smile growing on his little face. It was strange to see pearly white teeth flashing where Snape was concerned. “I also want to teach everyone how to make a potion that, after you drink it, makes everything taste like it’s made of chocolate,” Snape said excitedly to Remus. “You like chocolate, right?”
“I love chocolate,” Remus replied encouragingly.
“Me too!” Snape exclaimed, as though it was the most wonderous coincidence in the world.
“Astounding,” Sirius said drily, and Kingsley was surprised by how irritated he felt at Sirius’s callous manner. “What is even more astounding,” Sirius continued, “is that Voldemort”— for the first time since Kingsley had known the man, Snape did not flinch at You Know Who’s name— “didn’t hang onto you so that you could brew him all these innovative potions.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes at the child. “Why did Malfoy return you to us? Perhaps you have been compromised. Where do you fit into Voldemort’s plan?”
Snape met Sirius’s gaze calmly, his expression solemn, before his face abruptly split into a personified sunbeam of a smile. “Isn’t it obvious? The Dark Lord sent me back so that I could use my youthful, innocent charm to lower your guards and cause you to give up all the Order’s secrets.” The child had the audacity to wink at Sirius before reaching for another biscuit.
Everyone exchanged unsure glances with each other. Dumbledore just sighed and pinched the bridge of his long nose.
“Great,” Sirius said at last with a huff. “So not only does Voldemort get to keep getting information from his spy, lest he be revealed to be a fraud, but said spy is also now officially useless.”
When Snape met Sirius’s glare, and a furrow appeared between his brow, everyone expected him to show Sirius who was reigning champion of Most Odious Glares for fifteen years smoldering. Nobody expected him to burst into tears.
Yet that is exactly what he did.
“I’m afraid that not only is our spy lost to us in an official sense,” Dumbledore began gravely, “he is also lost to us in an emotional and mental sense. It is becoming increasingly clear to me that the Snape before us is a five-year-old at heart, if not in memory.”
At the sight of tears rolling down Snape’s cheeks as his lower lip quivered, Kingsley was inclined to agree.
