Always, Snape

History

Harry stood in front of the gargoyles who hid the entrance to the headmasters office. At dinner McGonagall had informed him about an appointment with the headmaster and Harry was quite curious why the headmaster wanted to talk to him. Hastily he mumbled the password "Lemondrops" towards the mean looking, stone monster and immediately it gave way so Harry could follow the spiral staircase. Upstairs, he stood in front of a large wooden door and wondered if he should just enter or knock as they swung open just by themselves. Intrigued Harry entered the room. It was round, a perfect circle with bookshelves framed walls and many odd looking instruments which made a sound now and then. Then Harry's gaze was drawn to onto a bird which more exceptional than any bird Harry had ever seen. It was slightly taller than the hawk he had seen on the zoo and its feather shone in a fiery orange. It look so beautiful Harry emerged closer without a second thought. He stretched his hand out to touch the birds shiny feathers. They felt warm and soft. Harry petted the bird until remembered why he had come here. He drew his hand back and looked around the room until he spotted the old man with a silver beard who wore a mint green cloak sitting behind the grand desk. "Good evening, Harry." The headmaster said. "Hullo, headmaster" Harry mumbled sullenly because he knew he had been rude. "I see you like fawks." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Oh yeah, he is beautiful, Sir." Harry replied awed. The old man chuckled softly and directed towards his desk. "Please take a seat, Harry." As Harry sat in one of those ridiculousl comfortable chairs the headmaster watched him with a new interest. "Do you want a cup tee, Harry?" He asked then. "I wouldn't mind one. Thank you." Harry answered politely and immediately a tray with two cups appeared. "It's bitter lemon. I hope you like it although its quite sour." Dumbledore said taking his cup and leaning back in his enormous armchair. Carefully Harry took a sip and grimaced but Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. "You are probably wondering why I called you here, Harry." Harry looked up to meet the headmaster's concerned eyes. "Well, yes." He answered truthfully. "Hagrid kindly informed me you still don't now your history. So if you have any questions about your parents or yourself you can ask them now." Dumbledore explained. Suddenly an unusual seriousness overshadowed the headmaster's known cheerfulness but the humorous twinkle in his eyes remained. "That is very kind of you, sir." Harry said formally while his head felt suddenly full of unasked questions but he couldn't grasp any of them. At Dumbledore's expectant look he just blurted: "Why are my parents dead?" "Straight to the point then." Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. The first thing you ask has to be such a sad one. You know, before you were born a dark wizard named Voldemort arose and tried to conquer wizard Britain. He was a very powerful and cruel man who had a huge lot of followers back then. Naturally, we, that means a great part of the english wizarding community, tried to defend ourselves against his influence but he was strong. Your parents -they were just married – went into hiding then to protect you. Before then they were two of our most reliable defenders and had made themselves a respectable amount of enemies. So they retired to keep you safe but sadly they weren't. Short after they were found dead in their hideout because Voldemort himself had come after them in order to kill them. I am sorry, Harry, but I blame myself personally that they were found out. I should have protected them stronger. I apologize." In Dumbledore's eyes glittered tears and Harry felt embarrassed. He couldn't really grasp what the headmaster had just told him. Dazed he asked. "And what happened to Voldemort?" "Well, that is the real mystery because that very day he disappeared." Dumbledore silenced to let the words sink in. "But you surely have a guess?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "To tell the truth, yes. But nothing that concerns you now, Harry. So don't worry." Harry looked at Dumbledore to determine why he wouldn't tell him more. Then he asked. "Where was I that day?" He noticed Dumbledore's eyes going wet again. "You were there with them. Yet, you are the only one who survived." Harry felt sick. "I was there?" He whispered. "Yes, you were still a toddler. I don't expect you to remember. But you were found there, lying next to your mother with this scar on your head. I am really sorry to tell you this. But you have to know why our world celebrates you as a war hero. Because of your scar many think you survived the killing curse, the most powerful curse there is and the disappearance of Voldemort only did add to the rumors. Therefore they warship you as the boy who lived, who defeated the dark lord." Dumbledore shot Harry another one of his concerned looks. "I understand." Harry said his voice sounding hollow. Swiftly he turned his head away because he felt like crying. "I understand it is a bit much to take at once." Dumbledore said soothingly. "Do you really think I defeated him?" Harry asked. "No, I don't. But your scar is indeed a rare magical one. It might be the killing curse which caused it. And although there is no exact proof I hope its not. There are already to much true rumors we don't need this one, too." Dumbledore sighed. "How come I ended up living with my relatives?" Harry asked then. "I thought you wouldn't have to life to the hardships your fame would cause you stayed in the muggle world. "I see." Harry felt like throwing something against the old coots head. "Hardships of fame?" He thought bitterly. "Because of this man he had to life much more pain than a little fame." Abruptly he stood up. "I am leaving now, sir." He announced. "Thank you for the tee." He turned around without looking back at the man. "What's wrong, Harry? Has something upset you?" "No, I just need some air. Goodbye, headmaster." Harry said hurriedly and stormed out of the office, a thousand thoughts swirling in his head. He didn't care where he ran. He just wanted to never stop. He wanted the exhaustion to overwhelm him, to overshadow the roaring pain. Just. Don't. Stop.