I promised, and a promice is a promice. But be warned. I am jumping ahead a few years with Snape-- and he thoroughly underlined the fact that he is not the type to jump in the way of bullets all the time...

..and so I obey. Heh. As a note, many things here refer to the previous stories I have written. Better read those. As a reference, Minerva is Headmistress, Snape Deputy, Albus and Sirius are dead and Remus is the resident DADA prof. Harry has defeated Voldemort (at least 10 years before this current narration of Snape's). There is some sort of mysterious shadow lurking.

I am very interested in your opinion in this experiment of mine.

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It is amazing how years roll by, how time flies. They are wrong when they say that it slows down to a crawl when there is no danger or adventure to occupy oneself with. It is actually the other way round. When misery is upon you, there seems to be no way for time to roll by. You have the feeling of being stuck in a helpless situation and doing the same things that keep hurting you and others. On the other hand, when there is peace and quiet, that serene happiness that has no sharp, aggressive joy nor abysmal sorrow, time speeds up and there is no catching it.

I realise this now, as I hear a name that makes my shiver, and pay attention to this Sorting out of all the others I have conducted as Deputy Headmaster. Because halfway down the list, is a name... -the- name...

I barely utter the name above it.

"Pisders, Anthony...."

My eyes skim the remaining crowd of first years frantically, to see if I can pick her out before she steps forward when I call her name. Will I be able to? Is it that little girl there chatting with a chubby boy? Perhaps that one at the very back cowering? But no, nobody of that bloodline could ever cower.

Then, I see her. I know it is her. She is playing with the tuft at the end of a long braid-- coppery red hair. She looks up at me fearlessly, even somewhat amiably. Though her eyes are blue, not green, I can still recognise them. How she has grown. A little lady made of perfect porcelain.

"Potter, Lily." I speak up when the previous boy is succesfully sorted into Slytherin. I hear my voice waver as the girl smiles at me and confidently walks up to the Sorting Hat. Everyone is staring at Harry Potter's only daughter. The one I held many times as a baby. The one I kept sending presents to, each year in mid-December. The one I would now teach like I taught her father.

It comes as no surprise when the hat pronounced GRYFFINDOR and she hops off the stool happily to go join the boisterous mass of students. I pause, forgetting that I still have some 15 names to call out. I am just watching her. I am watching her grin proudly for being in her family's traditional house, eyes bright.

Minerva's voice brings me back to the here and now.

"Severus, next first year, if you please."

I hurry to my task, yet I do not really pay attention.

"Quezda, Mira."

The Potter line is back at Hogwarts. I have a feeling time might yet again slow down to a crawl.

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it's short, because I want to keep some stuff unsaid. Of course the black dark thingy that was plaguing Harry will return. In possession of a wizard or witch. Of course Harry and Snape shall meet again, now Harry being a parent and stuff. (by the way, he is paired with Ginny)

All of course, considering you WANT me to. Because if not, I shall not try to make the time to type this up. So click and review. Help me to entertain you.