Your Eyes Are Just Like Your Mother's

As Harry stepped into the Headmaster's Office again, his heart was filled with complex emotions.

In the past, he would have been very excited because of all the offices, Dumbledore's room was the most interesting.

All sorts of strange and wonderful magical items; there's also the self-igniting Fawkes; silverware that spews smoke...

But at this moment, Harry was not interested in any of that; he was only endlessly exhausted.

The office is still the office, but now it feels so unfamiliar.

After he walked in, he stood in the center of the room and gently looked around.

Harry quickly found what he was looking for, the strange, tattered hat, which was on the shelf.

He ignored the curious gazes of the male and female headmasters on the wall and walked straight toward the Sorting Hat.

Harry pulled the hat down over his head, and a small voice whispered in his ear:

"Something you don't understand, Harry Potter?"

"Oh, yes," Harry mumbled softly, "Sorry to bother you... I wanted to ask..."

"Why did I choose to put you in Slytherin during the Sorting Ceremony?" The Hat, having already discerned Harry's thoughts, spoke softly:

"Yes... your position is particularly difficult to pinpoint, but I'm still sticking with my choice..."

"Because I have Voldemort's soul in my forehead?" Harry asked bluntly.

The Sorting Hat fell silent, while the portraits on the walls whispered amongst themselves, seemingly discussing something.

"Thank you for giving me a definite answer." Harry put the Sorting Hat back.

The office door opened, Dumbledore walked in, his expression grave.

"Have William and Hermione already left, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Yes, they both have a lot to take care of," Dumbledore said wearily, sitting down in a chair.

"Harry, what were you talking about with the Sorting Hat just now?"

"Let's talk about..." Harry paused, maintaining a forced smile, "Whether it has assigned students to the wrong houses."

"Then it will tell you that it never has." Dumbledore looked at Harry, waved his wand, and two cups appeared on the table.

What do you think?

Harry picked up the cup and held it in his palm.

He recognized the unique aroma as the mead made by Madam Rosmerta of the Three Broomsticks, ripened with oak.

Harry had tried it once before and loved it.

But he didn't drink it; he just smelled it.

"Perhaps the Sorting Hat sorted Wormtail into the wrong house?"

Dumbledore raised his long fingers, touching the tips together, and gazed at him:

"Actually, the Sorting Hat intended to sort Peter into Slytherin."

But Peter refused. Back when the Sorting took place, he, like you, had his own ideas.

As you know, the Sorting Hat sometimes takes students' opinions into full consideration.

Harry felt very uncomfortable.

Especially after learning that Wormtail had almost entered Slytherin like him, but refused the Sorting Hat and ended up in Gryffindor.

"Why? Why does he want to go to Gryffindor?" Harry asked curiously.

"Peter admires strong and brave men like James Potter and Sirius Black," Dumbledore explained.

"And both of them happened to go to Gryffindor."

"Do you think the Sorting Hat made any mistakes?"

"I think..." Dumbledore sighed softly, "That it was a bit too hasty with Severus."

"Professor Snape?" Harry was taken aback upon hearing the name.

"Severus is braver than anyone I have ever met," Dumbledore said slowly.

"As you should already know, he has always been my spy, loyal to me."

He risked his life to gather information for us for Voldemort.

Harry's eyes flickered, and he agreed with Dumbledore's words.

He felt terrible every time he saw Voldemort, while Snape was able to stay by Voldemort's side as a spy.

This is something no ordinary wizard could tolerate.

"Harry, I'm telling you this only because I want to tell you," Dumbledore said softly, looking at the child.

The Sorting Hat will assign students to different colleges.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't meet the standards of other colleges.

Do not arbitrarily equate students with their respective colleges, thereby creating a sense of antagonism.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, tilted his head back, and said gently:

"It's like even if the Sorting Hat thinks you should go to Slytherin, you're perfectly suited for Gryffindor."

"Professor..." Harry asked, somewhat confused, "What is Gryffindor?"

Dumbledore touched the tips of his two long, slender fingers together, resting his chin on them, his blue pupils looking at Harry through his half-moon spectacles.

"Absolutely not cruel,"

Never be a coward;

never give up,

Never give up.

Harry repeated these words over and over, until finally his eyes were resolute, and there was no longer a trace of confusion in them.

He said calmly:

"Then tell me, Professor. Am I Voldemort's Horcrux?"

Dumbledore nodded, without hiding anything:

"On the night Voldemort tried to kill you, Lily sacrificed her life to cast a spell of 'love' on you."

The Killing Curse bounced back at Voldemort, blasting a fragment of his soul into your body.

Four years ago, Tom unintentionally destroyed that soul, but he used the Killing Curse on you again and created another Horcrux.

"Therefore, you have the ability to Dialogue to snakes and connect with Voldemort's mind."

To completely kill Voldemort, that soul must be destroyed.

Harry was already aware of this when Tom took him to the Underworld.

Now that the truth was out, he was surprisingly calm.

It was as if he wasn't the one about to die.

"Thank you for your honesty, which finally let me know the truth instead of being deceived." Harry raised his glass and smiled with relief.

"I am ready, Professor, ready to die."

Dumbledore also raised his glass and toasted Harry.

"How much time do I have left?" Harry slowly stood up.

This summer.

"That's enough. Enough for me to say goodbye to everyone with dignity." Harry walked towards the door, then turned back and said:

Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for taking care of me all these years.

After finishing his drink, Dumbledore was already in tears.

The oak door was suddenly pushed open.

A greasy-haired middle-aged man rudely barged in.

There was a strong smell of alcohol in the room.

Dumbledore was drinking alone, with many empty bottles on the table.

He ignored Snape's intrusion, and instead looked up, drunkenly saying:

"Severus, William has already told you about the plan, hasn't he?"

"He made me kill that snake..." Snape stared at Dumbledore:

"Shidake also told me that snakes are Horcrux, and Harry is Horcrux too?!"

"Yes." Dumbledore tilted his head back and drank another glass of wine.

Snape said incredulously:

"So that boy... that boy... he has to die?"

"Harry will be the bait, the most important part of the whole plan; he will lure Voldemort into the trap," Dumbledore said.

"Once the soul in Harry's forehead is destroyed, we will be able to kill Voldemort completely."

After a long silence, confirming that the headmaster wasn't joking, Snape seemed to collapse completely.

"I thought... all these years... I thought we were protecting him, for her, for Lily..."

"I acted as your spy, fabricated lies for you, and risked my life for you."

You told me that all of this was to ensure the safety of Lily Potter's son.

Now you're saying that raising him is like raising a pig waiting to be slaughtered...

"How touching, Severus," Dumbledore sips of wine.

"Have you started to like that boy?"

"You like him?" Snape exclaimed, "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver doe sprang from the tip of his staff.

It landed on the floor, leaped lightly to the other end of the office, and crashed through the wooden door.

Dumbledore watched it go, watched its silver light disappear, then turned to look at Snape, who had tears in his eyes.

"It's been so long, and it's still like this?"

"It's always been like this," Snape said, tears streaming down the tip of his long, hooked nose.

"Severus, I also want Harry to live; he's not destined to die," Dumbledore comforted him.

"If Voldemort takes action himself, he has a chance to survive."

It all depends on Harry himself... Of course, this is just my guess...

"Guess?" Snape roared. "And what if you're wrong?!"

Dumbledore shook his head, but whether this shake of the head meant ignorance or certain death... Snape didn't know.

However, the result was the same.

Snape slumped against the wall, clutching his chest with both hands, letting out a low, mournful growl.

He hated Harry Potter, so why did his chest hurt so much at this moment?

Just like sixteen years ago, when I heard the news of Lily's death?

"Dumbledore, why does love... cause so much pain?"

"Because..." Dumbledore wiped away his tears. "It's real."

As Snape rushed out of the Headmaster's Office, he found Harry still standing in the corridor, looking out the window as if admiring Hogwarts.

Snape slowed his pace, unsure what to say, when Harry suddenly spoke up:

"Professor, that Patronus was so beautiful... a silver doe, exactly like my mother's."

Snape abruptly stopped in his tracks.

Harry turned around, looked at Snape with his green eyes, and said:

"Professor, I know you don't like me, you never have."

I'm staying here to say goodbye.

Snape stared blankly at Harry; it was the first time the two had looked at each other so calmly.

Harry went over and gave the poor middle-aged man a hug.

Surprisingly, Snape did not dodge.

This was the first time anyone had hugged him besides Lily.

Although he felt his body stiffening, it was also warm... at least there was no rejection as he had imagined.

"Be nicer to everyone, pay attention to personal hygiene, and take care of yourselves..." Harry choked up as he said this.

"I think if Mom were still alive, she would want you to feel the same way."

Harry released his embrace.

Snape's heart was pounding. He suddenly put his arm around Harry's shoulder and whispered:

"Look at me..."

Harry raised his head, his green eyes staring into the black eyes.

"Harry, your eyes look a lot like... your mother's."

Snape's voice was mournful, like... like a wounded doe who, upon discovering that the fawn she was protecting was about to die, could only lick her wounds and moo.

Harry hugged Snape tightly; he suddenly felt sorry for the middle-aged man.

Sixteen years ago, on that night, they both lost the most important person in their lives.

Sixteen years later, Snape will lose another person.