Everything belongs to J.K.Rowling.

On the ordinary, gray morning of his fortieth birthday, Severus Snape sat at the kitchen table next to an abandoned cup of lukewarm coffee and flipped rather fretfully through a thick book. The pages were crisp and the cover (from which his own face glared unblinkingly into the wooden desk) glossy with newness. He was very well aware that by not immediately tossing the book into the waste bin - or better still, burning it with one wave of his wand - he betrayed the most fundamental rule he had set himself a year and a half ago. But he simply could no longer fight his long-suppressed curiosity and started leafing through the book as soon as he had unwrapped it. It was his birthday, for goodness´ sake. Every couple of pages, Snape paused to read a random passage, as if he were trying to absorb all the information the should-be-forbidden text held as quickly as possible.

... But what led the daughter of a known pureblood supremacist to marry a working-class Muggle? The irreconcilable differences between his parents undoubtedly played a part in forming Snape´s problematic, complex, and still somewhat unfathomable character. To make things even more complicated, there exist incontrovertible evidence in favour of both of the most common portrayals of Severus Snape - the good and the evil. Plain black or white will not, however, suffice in this case. To paint the true portrait of Severus Snape we will need a broad scale of gray, even though we might still fail to add a brush stroke or two. Was there gentleness and vulnerability to be found behind the imperturbably cold-hearted demeanour - or was there only malice and slyness? To be able to reach a definite conclusion, we must journey back to Severus´s childhood which was, by all accounts, not a happy one…

... Horace Slughorn, a former Potions Master at Hogwarts, voices nothing but praise for his "ingenious, hard-working, modestly ambitious" student. "Severus has always radiated sheer intelligence and breathtaking creativity. I was so proud to have him." It should be promptly added that Snape was, at the innocent age of twelve, inducted into Slughorn´s questionable Club for students branded special in a certain way. What criteria Slughorn used, and what did he actually do with the pell-mell group of young witches and wizards during their periodic sessions (and whether it was more of a detriment than a privilege to be a member) remains the subject of pure conjecture. The only other revealing clue I will offer your imagination as to what exactly Slughorn found so "special" about this particular student is the fact that on many occasions, young Severus was privately invited to Slughorn´s office to "assist" his Head of House with "experiments", sometimes in the company of another equally gullible student, the mesmerizing Muggle-born Lily Evans, who happened to be the future mother of - oh yes, Harry Potter…

... Everything does indeed come down to one question which I hope nobody will have trouble answering: Why did the talented half-blood Slytherin who sought recognition, acceptance and protection join the Dark Lord‘s forces? Well, everybody wants to belong somewhere whether they want to admit it or not, and the dark path must have ironically seemed to be the only one alight to the teenage Severus. Where the true mystery lies is why and when - if ever - did Snape decide to leave Lord Voldemort´s service. Many suggest Dumbledore may have handpicked Snape as an easy target he could use in order to achieve his "noble" ends, binding the young man to loyalty perhaps by an Unbreakable Vow or another infrangible magical contract…

... Fortunately for the curious reader, we have managed to track down the Muggle sister of Lily Evans, who is more than willing to share her unique spin-off on the extremely pathetic version of the alleged unrequited love story. "I knew he was a nasty piece of work from the first moment I saw him," confesses Mrs. Petunia Dursley, shuddering. "Filthy, rude, and vindictive. Lily and I were afraid of him - he threatened to use black magic on me on many occasions. As for the love thing - Lily never cared for him. He stalked her, yes, was obsessed with her, but Lily - she never gave him any pretext. I believe he must have threatened her, too. Blackmail her, even. But there was nothing he could do to break the wonderful bond between me and my baby sister." Mrs. Dursley goes on to describe Snape´s numerous unexpected intrusions into the Evans´ house that bothered the family every summer holiday - all this fits ominously well with his "clearly possessive behaviour" toward the pretty redhead as described by Lily‘s Hogwarts dorm mate Mary Macdonald ...

... The solemn refusal of some of the prominent figures of the Second War to contribute to this biography implies that there undoubtedly was much more to Severus Snape than met the ordinary eye. What twisted secrets are his former fellows trying to hide by their expressive silence? For what other reason than they themselves must be involved - their own starry reputations are now at stake! Harry Potter may have - under dubious circumstances - managed to rid us of the Dark Lord at last, his trustworthiness as a source is, however, laughable. In his brief comments following his - is victory the right word? - over Lord Voldemort, Potter once again demonstrated his petulant denial to regard his dead "mentors" (surprisingly, Snape seems to be suddenly accepted into this preferential group, alongside Albus Dumbledore, the plotting puppet master and Remus Lupin, the wicked werewolf) in any other way than as complete saints. Of Snape, who had been apparently bullying and loathing Potter for six years of the latter‘s stay at Hogwarts, he had this much to say: "Professor Snape was a hero. He saved my life so many times. He worked undercover and could not reveal his allegiance to anybody. That‘s why everybody misunderstood his motivation. He - he [in this part of his official statement, Potter stammered with badly rehearsed poignancy] should be honoured and remembered for his great contribution to Voldemort´s fall." Quite a turn from the reported active hatred Potter had previously reserved for Snape only. What crucial piece of the puzzle is the Boy Who Lived Again trying to hide? ...

...When cornered, Neville Longbottom, untalented son of deranged parents, stutters: "I admit I was always a little - a little afraid of him. But from what Harry [Potter] says ... I am really grateful to [Snape] for ... working for our cause so bravely. In flashback, I realize that I sometimes judged him maybe too harshly. Like when he was headmaster [at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry] he must have been trying to make it easier for us students - I can see it now." Really? Could the poor cry-baby Neville be still scared of his intimidating teacher (who might still be the form of Longbottom´s Boggart for all we know) that he is unwilling to speak candidly even after Snape´s ignominious demise? Rumour has it, that given the free rein at Hogwarts at last, Snape gave way to his infamous sadistic streak and thoroughly enjoyed watching the students being Cruciated by the brutal Carrows siblings. Watching, that is what Snape excelled at. Apparently too cowardly to participate in any action, he is reported to have taken perverse pleasure in closely observing innocent people being tortured and murdered by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. This corresponds well with the former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge‘s recount of one of his encounters with Snape: "He was completely beside himself, he wanted Black´s blood..."

... It has certainly been a very popular trend of many witch magazines to compete in pairing the unattractive and unpleasant Death Eater with almost every witch (or wizard) they could think of, mostly with doubtful credibility. But whereas the clandestine romances with either the much older Minerva McGonagall or the much younger Hermione Granger must be taken with an enormous grain of salt, the secret passion for the pretty pureblood Narcissa Malfoy - coincidently the mother of Snape´s favourite student - seems much more plausible. It is an interesting little fact that Ginevra Potter, the Holyhead Harpie fiancée of Snape´s foremost defender, has been quoted as saying: "But who could have ever loved Snape? He was a deeply horrible person. The idea of Snape in love is sickening to me ..."

... After disdainfully dismissing the "preposterous" idea of his "so-called friend‘s" alleged affair with his wife, Lucius Malfoy, who is still under pending investigation for Death Eater activities, goes to explain Snape´s abuse of his trust: "He would be dead a hundred times more without me - I obviously entered the Dark Lord‘s service on Dumbledore‘s orders and Snape and I were supposed to be working together. But Snape wanted all the glory for himself and as a spy became rather counterproductive. I always had to cover up for his blatant mistakes - and was he ever remotely thankful? Not at all. Needless to say that after my imprisonment, my family had to suffer the Dark Lord‘s disgruntlement and although Snape had by that time achieved a position that enabled him to help us, he did not move a finger. So much for our friendship," concludes Mr. Malfoy…

... This June, two years will have passed from the death of Severus Snape - unless, of course, you would rather believe the delusional "Looney" Lovegood who, after her recent return from her "expedition" to Mongolia (where she claims to have found a hitherto unknown species of magical insect), seems to be quite convinced to have spotted the famous double-agent working at a cash register in a Muggle thrift shop ... "Of course, he now looks completely different - blond hair, blue eyes, scarlet suit - but I could tell it was him. I hope he has a nicer life than he had here - you know, nobody really liked him much ..."

And so on.

Snape slowly closed the book, pushed back his chair, stood up and walked to the window. The weather outside was just as bleak as half an hour ago, when he had no idea Severus Snape: Scoundrel or Saint had ever been written. After such a long time of purposeful avoidance of any information whatsoever from the country he had once lived in, he was momentarily quite overwhelmed by the fact that really nothing changed. Rita Skeeter was still writing fictional biographies, Harry Potter was still being a disgustingly noble Gryffindor, Lucius Malfoy was still doing all he could to save his own neck, and not a single living being seemed to have made up his mind as to what to exactly think of the dead professor, Death Eater, double agent, traitor, tormentor, mentor or whatever they claimed him to be for them. He frankly did not give a damn. Or so he believed. He had sworn to himself he would not care any more on the day he almost died. Old memories sneaked into his mind before he could stop them.

He was lying on the cold floor of the Shrieking Shack and life was escaping him as quickly as the spurting blood and hastily assembled recollections of what he hoped would be enough for the despised boy to finally understand. His gaze was fixed on the pair of the so well-known eyes which were staring back at him with a strange mixture of horror and determination - and then, relieving darkness encompassed him and he no longer felt the warmth of his own blood or the coldness of the floor, no longer worried about what will happen to Potter and others ... everything now seemed irrelevant. He - or was it just his soul - was falling into an infinite abyss of tranquillity. Peace at last; the ceaseless sleep from which there was no waking up…

But then, after a minute that had been stretched into a thousand years or else a thousand years compressed into a minute, he woke up. He was back on the cold floor and felt nothing but dull irritation at being brought back from the soothing calmness of death. It took him a long time to reconcile with the harsh reality of being forced back to life and also the painful fact that he had a body again.

It was pitch-black dark, but still not as completely dark as it had been a moment before. He could tell his eyes were now seeing the nothing there was to see. All his senses were back. The stale air of the Shack was resonating with silence, but not an absolute one - he could hear his own breathing and the distant rustling of leaves somewhere outside. Outside. He would eventually have to get up and get out there.

A startlingly loud musical sound pierced the quietness of his surroundings. He hurriedly and hurtfully hoisted himself up into a sitting position and automatically reached into his robes for his wand. The cloth was soaked and sticky, but the wand was gone. "Accio wand," he tried the second alternative, frightening himself with the hoarseness of his own voice. To his astonishment, a wand - which he recognized as his own - flew into his hand. He waved it and there was a magnificent red and gold bird illuminated by the light spell. The Phoenix chirruped softly and graciously took off and flew away, disappearing in the tunnel leading to the Whomping Willow. Snape scrambled to his feet and followed him. Fresh night air hit his lungs, as he pacified the raging tree and made his way up the hill.

Casting a Disillusionment Charm over himself, Snape cautiously entered the so well-known castle. The battle was over. Hours must have had passed from the moment Nagini´s fangs had plunged into his neck. Everyone was in the Great Hall, evidently mourning the dead and celebrating the living. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was invisible to their eyes, supposedly dead, murdered, nonexistent, but it all seemed quite surreal to him. Could it really be happening? The Dark Lord gone, gone forever - but what should ensue? It was in the world terrorized by the darkest wizard ever where Snape had had an allotted place, where he knew what to live for. What would he do now? Simply go back to teaching Potions or Defence against the Dark Arts and pretend nothing happened? That seemed plainly ridiculous to him, virtually impossible.

And how would they react, Snape wondered, looking at the odd assortment of people and creatures in the Great Hall, if he all of a sudden materialised himself in their midst? Would they gasp - or scream - or stare - or cheer - or disarm him - maybe kill him - or ignore him or what - he could not imagine. He felt as if there were a glass separating him impenetrably from the simultaneously sad and joyous company. He did not share either of their emotions. He was an outsider, an unwelcome intruder. His eyes travelled across the many familiar faces and then rested on Harry Potter‘s. So Lily‘s son survived, after all. Not even this notion affected him in any way, it all still appeared like a scene he could only watch, not participate in. He wondered vaguely what Potter made of his memories - did he understand? But Snape found that it did not matter to him any more, nothing really did.

Then he noticed there were bodies of those who had lost their lives laid out in an adjacent chamber. Students, Order members - was his proper place now in the company of the dead rather than amongst the living? But no, he realized, no, his body is not there, it is still in the Shrieking Shack! It has been there for hours!

Did they forget? Did they think him unworthy of a place amongst the honoured? Does anyone besides Potter and his pals know he is dead? Does everyone else still think he had fled?

Suddenly, it occurred to him that there was only thing he could possibly do. Without hesitation, he walked briskly back through the heavy oaken door, back where he had come from.

"Incendio."

The Shrieking Shack was set aflame.

For a while, he watched the hated place, where he had been - by a vicious play of fate - twice rescued from certain death and thrice humiliated under variable circumstances. Then he turned on his heel and, with the last glimpse of the distant castle he used to consider his home and which was now also ablaze in the orange light of dawn, he Apparated away. Never to come back.

And so he had, on that sunny June morning, left for good, Snape remembered as he continued to stare absently out of the window. He had decided to disconnect himself totally from the wizarding Britain and he had been - until this morning - fairly successful in doing so. The local newspaper did, of course, report on the world-known dark wizard‘s downfall, but at that time Snape had no desire to read more than the headlines anyway. But today was different - in the middle of a second academic year that Snape was not spending at Hogwarts - came the evidence of the other world´s continued existence ... and moreover, he realized with surprise, it was not anger into which his initial curiosity changed, it was ludicrously bitter nostalgia.

An unexpected occurrence outside roused him from his reverie. The colourless sky had become animated by a small winged dot flying towards him - it was growing bigger and bigger. He hoped the second owl of that morning would bring him something less, well, controversial. But then he recognized the familiar eagle-owl and realized that it most certainly would not be a present he would be getting this time.

What a day.