Chapter 3: The Portrait


How long he had been standing there, staring, Harry did not know, when he suddenly saw something glitter in the very last beam of sunlight. Something lying at his feet, where only minutes – or was it hours? – before, Snape had bled into the grass. Harry bent down. It was a mirror. A small, square mirror, much like the one Sirius had given him ages ago. It looked old; it was certainly dirty, caked with dust and some dark, sticky substance. A deep crack ran all across the glass, from one corner to the other. It must have fallen from Snape’s robes … Harry took the mirror, careful not to touch the traitor’s blood, wrapped it in his handkerchief and pocketed it. He wasn’t exactly hungry, neither was he especially keen on meeting Professor McGonagall just now, so he started towards Hagrid’s hut, when he heard someone calling his name.

“Harry, wait!” Ron panted. “McGonagall wants to see you. In her office. Immediately, she said.”

“Well, I guess I have to go then,” Harry said casually, although feeling a bit apprehensive. What if McGonagall did not approve of his actions? But Snape was wanted, dead or alive; his ugly mug was everywhere, on posters in shops, on advertising columns, on alley trees, glowering and greasy …

“There’s hot chocolate in the common room,” Ron tried to cheer Harry up while walking back to the castle with him.

“Great. If McGonagall doesn’t transfigure me into a pin cushion, I’ll come and join you,” Harry said gloomily, once and for all stopping Ron’s attempts at conversation. In brooding silence, they walked on.

“See you around, Harry,” Ron mumbled and took the stairs leading up to Gryffindor Tower. Alone, Harry continued on his way to the headmistress’s office.


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Wordlessly, Professor McGonagall motioned towards a seat opposite the huge, claw-footed desk she was sitting at. She gazed at Harry for a long while, her expression unreadable.

“Severus is no traitor,” she finally said, calmly but firmly.

“No?” asked Harry sharply, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he continued, “I think you are forgetting one little detail, Professor. He killed Albus Dumbledore, remember?”

“Yes, indeed he did, Harry,” the headmistress conceded with a sigh. “However, he did so on Professor Dumbledore’s request. I did not know then, either. But the portrait told me.”

“On – on Dumbledore’s request?” Harry looked dumbstruck. “Why should he want Snape to kill him? That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“It does make sense, I assure you, terrible sense. I wish I had known about that madness, I might have been able to stop – no, I suppose nobody could have stopped it. Poor Albus, poor Severus.” She sighed again, looking down on her folded hands, resting on the same desk Professor Dumbledore had so often worked at. After a moment of silence, they both heard a soft cough from the wall. Albus Dumbledore’s portrait was smiling down on them, his eyes twinkling, although there was a hidden sorrow to them Harry did not remember having seen in the living headmaster.

“Minerva, will you please continue? The boy has a right to know.” He turned his twinkling glance on Harry. “I suppose we should have told you much earlier, Harry, but then you always did have the tendency to not exactly obey orders. It might have endangered all our efforts … and I promised Severus not to tell anybody as long as I lived. However, since I am not alive …” Dumbledore’s voice trailed off.


“Yes, what did you want to tell me, headmaster?” Harry asked when the portrait failed to continue.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot – I’ve grown kind of forgetful these days, I fear. I’ll show you. But first, the headmistress should go on with the rather sad tale. Minerva?” He turned his twinkling glance back on the new headmistress.

McGonagall paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. “Almost two years ago, Severus made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy to help and protect her son Draco, as you already know, and to finish the deed in case Draco wasn’t able to, without having the faintest idea what he swore to. It had been a blatant lie that Voldemort had revealed his plans not only to Narcissa and Bellatrix, but to him, too. He thought he could thus trick them into telling him. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Instead, he ended up taking that fateful Vow, not able to back out because this would have proven that he wasn’t as dedicated to his master as he should be. And Bellatrix and many others already suspected him deeply. Voldemort had even placed Peter Pettigrew at Severus’s place, not to assist him, but to spy on him, to find proof for his treachery. Taking the Vow was the best way to once and for all convince those who doubted his loyalty. He decided it was worth taking, even if he had to break it in the end. And you know what that would have entailed, don’t you?”

“He would have died.”

“Yes, he would have died.” Minerva looked at Harry sternly but kindly. “And he was ready to do so. But Albus wasn’t ready to let him –“

“Of course I wasn’t,” interfered the portrait. “I’ve had my life, more than a hundred and fifty years, and mostly good ones, I might add. Severus already saved my life once – without his help, I would have died after destroying the first Horcrux. And I fear the injury in my hand would have caused unbearable pain without the potions that Severus brewed for me. No, it was better this way…”


“So you forced him into following through with whatever Draco planned, suspecting all along that it was you Voldemort was after, although Severus had not been able, in spite of him trying very hard, to lure Draco into telling him,” McGonagall went on, her stern gaze on the portrait this time.

“I’d rather say I convinced him …”

“According to Hagrid, you were having a very heated discussion ...”

“You know Severus, my dear Minerva, sometimes he can be extremely headstrong and all but reasonable; you have to be firm with him. He for some odd reason didn’t think what I was proposing was a good idea,” Dumbledore said with a wink at Harry.

“So, when you pleaded with Snape up on the Astronomy Tower,” Harry interrupted disbelievingly, “you were really begging him to kill you?”

“Quite right, my boy, quite right. I was dying anyway, you see, from that dreadful potion protecting the locket. And, of course, Severus noticed at first glance, being a real master in his field. I believe that was what made him follow through with my orders at last, although he truly hated doing it. And, I fear, he also hated me for making him do it ...”

Harry turned a little paler as he realized the implications. “So he really wasn’t a traitor?” he whispered. “He still spied for the Order?”

“Yes, Harry, he did,” said McGonagall sombrely. “The raven always left a message on the Tower. All the Order’s successful captures of Death Eaters over the last few months were made possible only because of these messages. I never suspected the raven was Severus, though. You see, he wasn’t especially talented at Transfigurations when I taught him; didn’t make it into my NEWT class. And his mother had a raven as a pet, I have heard ...”

“I messed it all up,” Harry mumbled, staring at the floor. “If Snape dies ...”

“Professor Snape, Harry. And he won’t die, I assure you; Madam Pomfrey is a very able healer, and Severus is tough,” the portrait said reassuringly, then turning unusually grave. “However, Harry, you used a Dark curse on an unsuspecting man when a simple ‘Stupefy’ would have sufficed, knowing explicitly how much harm it would do. This is a most serious matter. Think about it, Harry, and do so thoroughly.” He paused to let his words sink in, then continued in a more fatherly tone, “I hope you now see how dangerous, though very human, it is to act on hatred, Harry. Never let hatred cloud your judgement.”

Harry swallowed dryly, then nodded. “I guess I owe him an apology,” he finally said.

“Yes, Harry, you do,” confirmed the portrait-Dumbledore firmly. “And I still owe you the reason why I’ve always trusted Severus Snape with my life – and my death. But not today. You have enough to chew on already, I believe. Good night, Harry.”

“I’ll go check on Severus. Mr. Potter.” McGonagall had risen and now ushered the boy out of her office. “I believe your friends are waiting in the common room.”

Harry nodded again, let himself be carried down the moving staircase and headed for Gryffindor Tower, his mind reeling with the news. Yes, he would have more than enough to chew on for one day ...




TBC