Harry entered Hogwarts for the first time in a long while. He'd been called to the Headmistress's office not an hour ago on Albus's behalf.

Despite the seriousness of the letter Minerva McGonagall had sent Harry, he couldn't help but relish the time he spent inside the school walls. Hogwarts had been where he found sanctuary. Where he found friends. It had been his home.

"Oh," he heard the familiar voice of the ageing Professor McGonagall say, "Mr. Potter. I was just on my way to send another owl to you."

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry, unable to get out of the habit of thinking he was in trouble with her stern tone.

She waved it away as they met up. McGonagall matched his pace on their way to the Headmistress's office. They both had the confident stride that said they knew where their destination was well enough.

"So," said the Headmistress, "it seems your son is having quite a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that he is in the house of Slytherin."

"I've tried speaking to him, Professor," said Harry, trying to make her understand. "I've honestly done the best I could—"

"I know, I know. The boy's told me himself."

"Oh, here we are," she said, regaining her authoritative tone as they reached the Gargoyle statue. She clapped her hand at the statue once. "Peppermint." The gargoyle leapt aside and a spiral staircase was revealed. The two climbed up and entered McGonagall's office.

A cheer erupted in the room as soon as Harry walked in. He frowned up at them. "Come on, that was years ago. Let's just forget about it."

"Forget about it?"

"He saved us all, is he mad?"

But they quieted.

Harry's eyes searched quickly for the portrait he had been looking forward to seeing since he first heard he was going to be returning to this school earlier that evening. The painting beheld a man with a long silver beard, half-moon spectacles, and his trademark crooked nose. He was sitting on his throne-like chair and giving Harry a wide smile as his eyes twinkled in the familiar way they always used to.

"Welcome back, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"Hello, sir," replied Harry, taking a seat in the same chair he'd sat in so long ago, listening to the former Headmaster give him instructions on how to kill Voldemort. Harry saw the painting labeled Honorary Headmaster of Hogwarts: Severus Snape placed just next to Dumbledore's.

Harry nodded with as much respect that could have been put in a nod as he said, "Professor Snape."

The old Potions Master reciprocated the gesture in the same measured way. "Potter," said Professor Snape, but without the coldness of the way Harry always thought Snape had been speaking to him in—whether he had imagined the sharp edge to the tone of Professor Snape's voice in his youth was beyond him.

Harry diverted his attention to the Headmistress who had been watching the encounter. When she saw he was looking at her, she cleared her throat. "Yes, well." She looked at the door to the office. "Mr. Potter," she said, "you can come in now." A boy with bright green and red-rimmed eyes came through the door that Harry had just entered through.

He looked at his father, ashamed of his behavior. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Al. Come here." Harry waved his wand and a chair identical to his appeared next to his, no one objected. Albus walked over and sat in it, hanging his head and staring at his lap.

"You know Albus is feeling odd at the fact that he's in Slytherin," said McGonagall.

"He was disappointed he wasn't in the same house as the rest of the family, yes," agreed Harry. "We've corresponded over it for a bit."

"I'm afraid that I've disappointed you, Dad," whimpered Albus, pushing his face in the coat of Harry's sleeve. "I didn't mean to be put in Slytherin."

Harry touched his son's head as the eleven-year-old boy cried. "No, Albus. You've done everything but disappoint me. How many times do I have to tell you? I told you you've nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'd like to agree with that!" shouted the old Headmaster and former Head of the house of Slytherin from his portrait higher up in the room. "There's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of when in the house of Slytherin." Albus looked up from his seat to find the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black speaking to him. "You've got to be proud! The Sorting Hat only chooses the best for Slytherin."

Headmistress McGonagall cleared her throat at Black. "Excuse me, Professor," she said, her lips in a thin line.

He became silent without apology.

"He's right, you know," a croaky voice said on a shelf behind McGonagall. "I'm never wrong when I Sort." The Sorting Hat was standing up straight and the patches stood out against the original dark fabric of the hat. "You would have been very impressive in either Gryffindor or Slytherin, but I chose Slytherin for a reason, Mr. Potter."

"I'm not bad!" yelled Albus at the old hat. "Why should I have to be in there?"

"Bad?" repeated Nigellus Black. "Bad?" He seemed to be so offended, he took off out of his frame, and turned up in Dumbledore's, the one closest to the small boy so he could have a good view of Nigellus. "My boy, just because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a few Death Eaters exited the house of Slytherin does not mean everyone who goes in there is bad!"

"Professor Slughorn was in Slytherin and he was a fine man," Harry added.

"Thank you!" said Black. "Like I was saying!"

Harry whispered in his son's ear so nobody else could overhear, "Professor Snape was also in Slytherin, you remember?"

Profefssor Snape cleared his throat and everyone quieted, Harry's back stiffened as he wondered if Snape had heard. "If I may add something, Headmistress," asked Snape silkily to McGonagall. She threw up her hands in defeat and slouched in her chair.

Snape rose, left his portrait, and was soon in Dumbledore's, moving Black out of his way. "Come here," he said to Albus in a tone much too soft to have been Professor Snape's. Albus got out of his chair, wiping his eyes, and looked up at Severus Snape. Harry moved to Albus's side and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Mr. Potter," said Severus Snape to the young boy gently. "Slytherin is the house for the brainy, the resourceful, the reasonable, the leaders, and the clever. Gryffindor and Slytherin are not so different when you think about it closely. They both house the students eager to make the most of their time in this school. They possess the bravest, the strongest, and the best students—the ones who are not afraid to stand up for what they believe in."

At these words, some of the portraits above shifted uncomfortably in their seats and a few shouted objections. Snape ignored them all.

Harry squeezed Albus's shoulder and smiled at him. McGonagall was watching on with what only looked like very slight interest to the untrained eye.

"And if you truly love the ones in other Houses," continued Snape, "you'll find a way to overcome the separation. After all, the Houses were not meant to divide, but to unite," said Severus wisely. Dumbledore patted the black-clad shoulder of his most faithful friend as a tear slipped from his eye and fell into the silvery beard at Snape's reference to his and Lily's broken relationship.

"Well said," congratulated a portrait with an exceptionally long ear trumpet.

"Thank you, sir," Albus said, sniffling. "It makes me feel a bit better."

Albus turned around and saw the light of the sun glinting off Snape's golden portrait label and he read it.

"Severus Snape?" said the curious boy aloud, spinning around to eye Professor Snape again. "So you're the man I was named after?" he asked, appalled.

Severus's eyes looked wildly at Harry, his brows furrowed with emotion Harry was still too young to understand. "You named him after me?" Snape looked just as surprised as Harry's son. "I thought his name was Albus."

"It is," said Harry, squeezing his Albus's shoulder. "His middle name is Severus." The painted man's eyes filled with—were those tears?

"He—he has her eyes, Dumbledore," said Snape, kneeling to get a closer look at Harry's son.

Dumbledore's lips were tilted up in a smile so full of light and kindness. The piercing blue of his retinas shone with heartbreak for Severus Snape as he also looked at the younger Albus's eyes. "So I see."

"My dad's said loads about you," said the youngest in the room. "He says you were the bravest man he ever knew, the one who died for love—the strongest, purest thing anyone could ever die for."

"So very true," Dumbledore added as an aside quietly. "It's the purest thing to live for as well."

I think this was a lot better in my imagination.

If you feel inclined, please review.