Chapter 474: A New Identity
"You are worried, Severus."
Dumbledore wore robes of deep purple, a corner of which was embroidered with
stars. Snape shot him a cold, icy glare but remained silent.
"You shouldn't be teaching him these things," Dumbledore said again, his voice
slow and deliberate.
"This is not a matter for you to dictate to me, Dumbledore," Snape sneered.
"I know that, but you should trust me." Dumbledore sounded almost as if he were
compromising.
"Trust you? Dumbledore, when have you ever trusted me?" Snape let his anger lash
out, cold and sharp.
"At all times," Dumbledore replied, as if the thought required no contemplation.
"At all times? Ha... and yet I remain in the dark... The Dark Lord's power is
waning, he will sense it, and when he does, do you know what measures he will
take? That fool doesn't even bear a mark or any trace of magic—are you trying to
get him killed?!" Snape demanded, his voice trembling with fury. He stared at
Dumbledore as if he were looking at a common thief or a cutthroat.
"He will return; I have never denied that. But Hogwarts will always be the
safest place of all," Dumbledore said, his tone carrying a calm, unshakable
confidence.
"Hmph..." Snape let out a derisive snort.
"You still do not trust me, nor do you trust anyone, yet I trust you, and we all
trust you, Severus," Dumbledore sighed.
"You refuse to tell me anything, yet you expect me to trust you. Dumbledore, do
not take everything for granted," Snape hissed.
"The point is not that I do not trust you, Severus. We all have things we ought
to know, and things we do not need to know—perhaps things we must not know."
"You think you have the right to know everything? Or that he has the right? If
you believe that, then you must agree with what I am doing now," Snape said with
utter disdain.
"No, I have never believed that I know everything. Most of the time, I know
nothing, and I am good for nothing. But you have crossed the line, Severus; that
is not something he should be touching." Dumbledore lowered his gaze.
"You want him to encounter the most dangerous things, you want him to face the
most dangerous man, yet you teach him nothing, you tell him nothing... Are you
asking me to watch him die! Dumbledore!" Snape roared. "He is only twelve years
old—Dumbledore—does your plan require his life as a cost?"
Dumbledore fell silent; he had no rebuttal.
The biting wind of the dungeon whipped through the room, and the sky outside was
shifting rapidly from velvet deep-blue to a cold, dreary grey. It was raining in
Scotland. It was always raining here.
"Severus... this is not something I have decided." Dumbledore finally spoke.
"Then I will decide. I will teach him everything I can. I will keep him at
Hogwarts as much as possible, and when the time comes that he must face
something, I will ensure he is as prepared as possible to fight back," Snape
said, his throat raw.
"Fight back... that is our task, Severus. Not his. Do you not understand? Our
expectations, the mission we must complete—they have nothing to do with him."
Dumbledore sounded as if he were trying to talk a man off a ledge.
"What do you mean?"
"You shouldn't be teaching him that knowledge. He does not need that kind of
power."
"You think he is the next Dumbledore?"
"No. He is Sean Green, the only one of his kind. He will be stronger than I am,
stronger than all of us... He does not need anyone to lead the way; he will find
his own path. All we must do is wait. If we can, we pass on our knowledge to
save him some time, not delude ourselves into thinking we can walk the path for
him. Severus, you have crossed the line. Your child does not need you to lead
him."
Dumbledore fell silent again, staring out the window at the rain forming a
jagged track of water on the glass.
"You have set your expectations of him too high." Snape suddenly understood.
But that word—"child"—was whispered so softly it felt like a murmur in the dark.
It felt as if a painful fog hung before his eyes, and it took an age for
Dumbledore's words to truly reach him.
"On the contrary, I spend every waking moment wondering if I have underestimated
the boy." Dumbledore sighed.
"You mean..." Snape realized.
"Let him choose for himself. If there is something he wants to learn, let him
learn it. Most wizards are spoon-fed what magic they should study, but he must
choose his own, for his path will be longer than ours. No one can help him with
that." As Dumbledore spoke, the fire in the hearth died out of its own accord.
The scent of charred wood lingered in the air, drifting through the damp gloom
of the dungeon.
"I have one last question..." Snape was finally swayed. He desperately wanted
Sean to have the strength to protect himself, yet in Dumbledore's eyes, this
strength seemed beneath notice. "If you think this way, why have you kept him so
close to you all this time?"
Snape glared coldly at Dumbledore, searching every wrinkle at the corners of the
old man's eyes for the slightest trace of a lie. To his utter shock, there was
no lie—only an embarrassment he was trying to conceal.
"I never intended for it to happen this way. If I could, I would want everything
you want: for him to be nowhere near these affairs. Severus, tell me—if time
could solve all our problems, would we need to take these risks?" Dumbledore
confessed, with a rare hint of awkwardness.
Snape was entirely convinced, but also entirely enraged.
"I feel the same as you, Severus. I am pleased when a difficult problem is
solved, yet I worry about the accidents of the future. I do not oppose your
actions; I signed that detention notice, did I not? I thought you would
understand me." Dumbledore looked genuinely saddened.
"Sean Green..." Snape muttered, his teeth gritted.
He had thought Dumbledore was pulling the strings, but the little boat had been
sailing of its own accord all along. He had known it, but he had never felt this
agitated before.
"Do not break the boy's soul. Do not test him, even if you think he can
withstand the test." Dumbledore prepared to leave, a kind, gentle smile
returning to his lips. "Oh, and don't forget to fill out the supporting
documentation, Severus. Give the Board of Governors a reason to support this
'summer detention.'"
"Hmph—" Snape let out a cold snort.
He placed a parchment on the desk. One could clearly see the words 'Potions
Teaching Assistant' and 'Summer Training' scrawled upon it. Those words
naturally reminded Snape of the Care of Magical Creatures class for the next
semester, and he felt a flash of annoyance that he couldn't schedule the two
classes to overlap.
"Oh, an excellent idea. I imagine Hagrid has nothing to do with this,"
Dumbledore teased, picking up the parchment.
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