Early in the morning, while leisurely eating breakfast, Snape heard a soft tapping sound. He looked up to see a plump barn owl perched on the windowsill outside the living room, gently rapping its claws against the closed glass pane.
Setting down his utensils, Snape stood up and walked to the window, carefully pushing it open.
The owl immediately extended one leg, to which a small, tightly rolled piece of parchment was tied with a thin string.
Snape took the letter without even having time to offer it any owl treats. The owl shook its fluffy feathers, flapped its wings, and took off into the sky.
Dumbledore's letter had finally arrived. Unrolling the parchment, he saw a few hastily scribbled lines in black ink:
"Dear Severus, I will be arriving in St. Catchpole Village at 6 o'clock this evening. I hope it's not an inconvenience. —Albus Dumbledore"
Looking at the brief message, Snape figured that O.W.L. results must be coming out soon. Since he wasn't sure why the headmaster was visiting, he decided to go ahead and write the letter he had prepared for young Barty Crouch.
Given that Crouch Sr. had never shown much care for his son, Snape didn't mind stepping in to take on that responsibility.
He quickly finished his breakfast, and with a flick of his wand as he turned to go upstairs, the dishes floated into the sink.
At his desk, Snape dipped his quill into an ink bottle and began writing with care:
"Dear Barty,
First of all, congratulations (in advance) on passing all twelve of your O.W.L.s. By the time this letter reaches you, I'm certain all twelve certificates are already in your hands. Well done!
You're a genius for actually managing to slog through A History of Magic.
I bet he gave you that tight-lipped speech about "upholding the Crouch family standard" and "maintaining your focus through the N.E.W.T. stage," didn't he? Ignore him. If you ask me, you deserve a proper celebration!
Yours, S.S.
P.S. I'm proud of you. Also, does Shiny know the house-elf from the Black family?"**
Once he finished writing, Snape carefully folded the parchment and called in his beautiful screech owl from outside the door. She had a new name now—Nocturna, meaning "the night."
Nocturna landed quietly on the desk, remaining perfectly still as Snape tied the letter to her leg.
He gently stroked her tiny head and opened the window for her. She affectionately pecked at his finger, then gracefully spread her wings and soared out into the sky, disappearing into a distant black dot.
Turning back around, Snape resumed his idle waiting for the headmaster to arrive.
That evening, to welcome Dumbledore, Eileen had gone to the trouble of preparing several extra dishes and a dessert.
But as the minutes ticked by, and then hours, 6 o'clock came and went. By nearly 7, there was still no sign of Dumbledore at the door.
With no other choice, they sat down for a simple dinner and cleaned up afterward.
"Are you sure you didn't get the date wrong?" Eileen asked as she waved her wand to tidy the table.
Snape once again pulled out the now repeatedly crumpled and smoothed parchment, even though he'd already checked it at least five times.
"'I will be arriving in St. Catchpole Village at 6 o'clock this evening. I hope it's not an inconvenience,'" he read aloud, word for word. "Same every time I read it."
"Dumbledore's never been late before," Eileen said, frowning. "At school, I never once heard of him showing up late."
"Who knows," Snape shrugged. "Maybe he just got the date mixed up for once. It's fine. I'll wait a bit longer."
Eileen sat nearby flipping through a few borrowed Witch Weekly magazines from Mrs. Weasley, keeping Snape company as he waited.
Time slipped by, and before long it was past 9. Only after much insistence from Snape did Eileen finally agree to head upstairs to rest.
"You go ahead and sleep," Snape told her. "I'll head up shortly too. If Nocturna comes back and there's still no sign of the headmaster, I'll write to him."
Now alone in the living room, the candlelight flickered gently inside its glass cover. Snape stared into the little dancing flame, lost in thought. Eventually, sleep overcame him, and he slumped over the desk.
Who knew how much time had passed before a sharp, chiming alarm jolted him awake—someone had approached the house.
Grimacing, Snape shook out his numb arm, drew his wand from his robes, and silenced the alarm.
Still groggy, he glanced at the wall clock—it was already past 1 a.m.
Outside, a torrential downpour hammered against the windows, and fierce winds howled through the night.
Gripping his wand tightly, Snape carefully opened the front door with magic and tossed out a balled-up scrap of parchment.
"It's me, Severus," came Dumbledore's weary voice through the storm.
Snape quickly moved to the doorway and peered outside.
Dumbledore stood in the rain, water streaming down his black traveling cloak and joining the small rivers forming on the ground.
A flash of lightning illuminated a hooded figure standing behind him.
The figure said nothing and stood there trembling in the wind and rain.
"Come in, Professor. You too," Snape hurriedly ushered them inside, casting a Muffliato Charm at the stairwell to avoid waking Eileen.
Dumbledore stepped slowly into the cabin, letting the rainwater pool on the wooden floor.
Snape was taken aback—this wasn't like the Dumbledore he knew. The headmaster was always composed, always considerate of others, never late… until now.
Dumbledore pulled back his hood, revealing his long, silver-gray hair.
Snape had never seen him like this. His face was terrifying—far more than Snape had ever imagined.
The usual kindly smile was gone. The cheerful twinkle behind his half-moon glasses had vanished.
Every wrinkle on his aged face radiated a cold, seething anger.
He seemed to radiate a heat so intense it felt like he could dry the rain from his own clothes just by standing still.
The figure that had followed him inside remained motionless, shivering and dripping wet, hair plastered to their skin.
"Professor, maybe you should dry off with a spell first, or change into something dry," Snape hesitated, "I'll get you some clean towels and robes, maybe make some hot tea. There's a spare room—"
"Severus," the figure said, lifting their head.
In the dim candlelight, Snape recognized those green eyes.
Lily Evans.