Somewhere, in a dark manor, a man with dark hair stood before a mirror. "Mirror, am I beautiful? The fairest in this wretched world?" The mirror replied, "No, our son in fairer than you, and I love him best." "We'll see," the man said.
"Now, Harry, we are off to St. Mungoe's to visit my cousin. You are welcome to come, or you can stay here and get settled in," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry after lunch the day he arrived to stay with them over the rest of the summer.
"I think I'll come with you," Harry answered.
"All right. Help yourself," Mrs. Weasley said, handing Harry the pot of flew powder. Harry grabbed a handful and threw it over the fire, which turned green. With a shout of "St. Mungoe's," he was off. Next came Ron, then the twins, then Bill, then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
When everyone was there, Mr. Weasley led everyone to the second floor. There, they went down the hall. It was still lit by candles in floating bubbles. A little way down the hall, Mr. Weasley opened a door and led them all inside. There were two women in the room; one was about Mrs. Weasley's age, the other one was very old looking.
"Hello, Ellen, how are you doing?" Mrs. Weasley asked as everyone approached the younger woman.
"Oh, I'm fine. Slowly getting better, they tell me. As for me, I'd rather go home," Ellen responded. Mr. Weasley smiled.
"Now, don't you go giving the healers a hard time. They're trying to help you, you know," he said. Harry stood aquardly at the back of the group and found himself wishing he had stayed at the burrow.
"Oh, by the way, this is Harry Potter. He's Ron's friend," George said. Harry was ushered forward.
"Uh, hi," he said uncertainly.
"So, you're the one everyone's always making a big hubblebaloo about," Ellen said in way of greeting as she shook Harry's hand. Her grip was firm. "Nice to meet you." Then, she started talking to the Weasleys again, and Harry was left once again to standing around.
"Did I hear tell that Harry Potter was here?" an old voice from across the ward said. Harry walked back to the corner and saw an old woman.
"Yes, I'm Harry Potter. Who are you?" he asked when he got there.
"I'm Nancy. I must say, you aren't how I pictured you," she answered.
"How did you picture me?" Harry asked.
"Well, fairer, I guess. Actually, I've always wondered how you felt about having the job of killing You Know Who. After all, you're just one kid," Nancy said.
"I hate it. Everyone's always gawking at my forehead. And I REALLY hate the press," Harry answered. "So, what are you here for?"
Nancy sighed and said, "I'm in for a chronic illness. They say I probably won't go home this time." She gave a faint laugh and Harry looked down.
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
"Oh, I think I'm ready. I've seen that in this world which is fairest," Nancy answered.
"What was it?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.
"It was a child, about five years old. The most beautiful child you could ever imagine. You know the story of Snow white?" Nancy said.
"Yes," Harry answered.
"Well, that's what he looked like. Forgive me for sounding poetic, but he had hair of midnight's darkness and skin that glowed like apple blossoms. Like snow." A faraway look came into Nancy's eyes. "But it was so much more than that that made him fair. His laughter was like silver bells, and he could light up a cheerless room when he was happy. You could see the innocence shine out of his eyes. I know a lot of little children fit this description, but he was so pure, sweet, and loving. Even when he was sad, light always filled his face. It probably sounds silly, but when he cried, everything seemed to cry with him. He had everything good in this world."
"Who was this child? He sounds like an amazing kid," Harry said.
"He was. Here, I have a picture of him." Nancy pulled out an old, slightly faded picture. Harry took it and looked at it. It was moving, like all wizard pictures. There was a little boy in it, chasing butterflies. When He caught one, he would look at it a minute, than let it go. Harry could see that yes, this child was special in his beauty, inside and out.
"His name was Severus Snape," Nancy said, and Harry stared at her in shock. How could that beautiful child be the greasy Potions professor? "Here, let me tell you of him..."
here were two women in the room; one was about Mrs. Weasley's age, the other one was very old looking.