Harry opened his eyes. A young boy was looking him over. They were sitting in the hallway, dark and cold. The boy, a little older than Harry, smiled gently. “Hello.” His voice was calm and soothing.
    “Hello.” Harry himself felt oddly at peace. “I’m Harry. Who are you?”
    “Severus.”
    “…What are we doing here? Aren’t we supposed to be in our common rooms?”
    “It’s fine. They won’t find us, anyway.”
    “McGonagall is really strict…”
    “They won’t find us.”
    Harry quieted down. The boy named Severus rested his chin on his knees, his dark hair cloaking his face, though unable to hide a large, hooked nose. “It’s a shame, Harry.” He कहा finally.
    “What is?”
    “You were the Chosen One, weren’t you?”
    Harry blinked. “I am, not I was…”
    Severus stopped smiling. “Feel your forehead.”
    Harry did so, feeling clean skin. There was no scar anymore. Harry did not feel surprised. Severus closed his eyes and Harry leaned against the wall. For a moment the two boys sat there.
    “Was it fun? Playing Quidditch?” Severus whispered, a strange longing in his voice.
    “I can’t really remember.” Harry answered. “Well… it’s fun… thrilling, really. Knowing आप can fly, but always keeping a lookout for the Snitch… and when आप catch it, you’re the king of the world.”
    Severus took several सेकंड्स before speaking again, as though he were deep in thought, या perhaps a wild कल्पना of Quidditch. “Did आप catch the Snitch, Harry?” He breathed slowly. “Did it come into your fingers and did आप celebrate? Were आप the king?”
    “…I don’t remember. I think I did.” Harry thought a moment. “What if we wait for tomorrow? I can teach आप how to play? Granted, I’m only eleven, but I’m the youngest seeker in a century, Hermione keeps telling me…”
    “We can’t.” Severus cut him short. “We can’t.”
    “…why not?”
    “Savor your memories, Harry, they’re all आप have.”
    “Severus…” Harry hesitated, “is there a reason I don’t remember finishing Quidditch?”
    Severus took a moment before he smiled. Instead of answering the question, he looked straight at Harry. “Darned werewolves.”
    “…what?”
    “They tear आप to pieces in a heartbeat.” His grin had no humor at all. His black eyes had no light, reminding Harry of dark tunnels, “Of course, if someone jinxes your broom, you’re dead just the same, all it takes is a crack of the neck, a crack of the neck…”
    Harry’s jaw dropped, very slowly.
    Severus blinked, and the grin was replaced with a dark seriousness. “Who’s really dead, Harry?”