The headmaster's door burst open.
A black blur tornadoed in like the goddamn Batman.
"Dumbledore."
Snape's voice hit the room like a freezer door left open in January—cold, damp, and straight from the abyss. The temp legit dropped a few degrees.
"Easy there, Severus."
Dumbledore let go of whatever deep-thought bullshit he was stewing in and waved him over like they were about to brunch.
"Tea or coffee?"
"I didn't come here to sip lattes, Dumbledore."
Snape's face was a waxy, storm-cloud nightmare. Every word came out like it was dragged through a haunted swamp.
"Tell me what the hell happened to Harry Potter."
"I don't know."
Dumbledore shook his head slow.
"If you want the why behind Harry's situation, my answer is: I. Don't. Know."
"I've wracked my brain. I've flipped through every dusty-ass tome in this castle. Nothing matches this."
Snape's brows locked like a vault. Danger flickered in his eyes—dude's feelings about Harry were a goddamn mess. Guilt, regret, hate, jealousy—a whole Jackson Pollock of emotional diarrhea. Couldn't name it if you paid him.
"But I can promise you one thing, Severus: Harry's not in danger. Not right now."
"And later?" Snape's voice was a low growl.
"Nobody knows what tomorrow brings—"
BAM!
Snape slammed his left hand on the desk.
"He's Lily's only son. You promised me. You swore you'd keep him safe!"
"And I stand by it. I haven't forgotten." Dumbledore raised a palm—sit your ass down.
"But since you're here, there's something huge I need to drop on you."
"About him?"
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Snape sat, frowning. A weird vibe crawled up his spine.
"Yeah. About Harry. This'll flip your whole world upside down, but it's real. It's done."
Snape's fists clenched. He stared through Dumbledore's half-moon glasses into those too-blue eyes.
"Maybe take a sip of tea first."
Dumbledore flicked a finger. Teapot floated, poured a steaming cup that smelled like bitter regret.
"Mandrake nectar and aconite?" Snape sniffed. "Why the hell am I drinking this?"
"For your… physical safety."
Dumbledore didn't elaborate. Snape chugged half the cup. Sedative-laced, muscle-melting calm juice. As a potions god, he clocked it instantly—chill pill in liquid form.
"Spill it."
He clacked the cup down.
"Of course."
Dumbledore straightened like he was about to drop the nuke.
"Everything I'm about to say is real. Stay calm. No matter what you hear, don't lose your shit, Severus."
They locked eyes for a beat. Then:
"Harry—or rather, Harley—is a girl."
THUD~
Snape's upper body collapsed forward, forehead smacking the desk.
"Huuuuh~~~ Haaaah~~~~"
Deep breath. He pushed up, face stone.
"You sure, Dumbledore?"
"Saw it with my own eyes." Nod. "Spent three hours after getting back trying to logic this crap. Zero answers."
"Petunia and Vernon gave me their theory. Sounds batshit, but I got nothing to debunk it."
He laid out the Dursleys' wild-ass guess. Snape just blinked.
"So they think… Lily hid Harry's real gender to protect him?"
"That's insane…" Snape waved it off. "Makes zero sense."
"Exactly. Something's missing. But that's not the point. The point is Harley now."
"What?"
"Before I show you, Severus—I need your word."
"This bad?" Snape was still reeling, but he was a pro at locking feelings in the vault.
"Swear to me: at Hogwarts or outside, you won't mess with Harley's normal life."
A dozen dark theories flashed—shot down one by one.
"Fine. I swear."
"Good. Feast your eyes."
Dumbledore flicked his wand. Ancient stone basin slid out. He tapped his temple, pulled a short silver thread—plop into the Pensieve.
Silver smoke billowed, formed a screen. Memory projected: him and Hagrid at the Dursleys', enrollment visit for two kids.
Scene cut to the living room. Harley stepped in.
Dumbledore side-eyed Snape.
Snape froze.
The Occlumency walls Voldemort couldn't crack? Obliterated.
Eyes bloodshot, locked on the image. Tears welled without permission.
A tidal wave of grief exploded from the deepest pit in his soul. Then—pain and regret ignited. Burned everything to ash. From the wreckage? A spark of hope.
He shot up. Black robes billowed like a storm. Magic boiled out, uncontrolled. Shadows danced. In that second, he looked darker than Voldemort—a true Dark Lord vibe.
But his face?
Lost. Then—joy.
Tears scorched down his cheeks.
"Lily…"
A broken whisper. A dying man smelling water after crawling through hell.
"She's not Lily."
Dumbledore's voice cut the mirage.
"She's Lily's child. Not her."
"You need to get that, Severus."
"I…" His voice cracked like gravel. "Need to… cool off."
"Go. But remember your promise."
Snape didn't answer. Wiped the tears. Bolted.
Laughter echoed from the hall—hysterical, unhinged. Mixed with dried-up sobs.
Sounded like a madman.
Like a big red [囍] on a wedding banner, backed by white curtains and blaring suona horns.
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