Bitter Warnings

The door to the Headmaster's office slammed open with such force that several enchanted instruments rattled violently, one even toppling off the desk with a faint clatter.

Albus Dumbledore, unfazed, sat serenely behind his grand desk, peering over his half-moon spectacles. A small bowl of sherbet lemons sat within reach, and in his other hand, he absentmindedly unwrapped one of the cockroach cluster candies, popping it into his mouth.

The storm that entered was Severus Snape—his black robes billowing like smoke, eyes dark with fury.

"Why," Snape hissed, striding toward the desk, voice low but trembling with rage, "why did you bring him here?"

Dumbledore said nothing at first, calmly chewing as he offered the bowl of sweets forward in silent invitation. Snape ignored it entirely, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"It was because of him," Snape pressed, teeth clenched, "because of Potter, that she's gone… he couldn't protect her, she didn't deserve to die that young , And now you bring him here? You expect me to tolerate that? To work under the same roof as him, teach these children, walk these corridors—while he's here?"

Dumbledore sighed softly, the candy clicking against his teeth as he set the bowl down.

"Severus…" His voice was calm, maddeningly so. "Sit down."

"I will not," Snape snapped, his voice sharp enough to slice through the room. "If you insist on keeping him here, I'll leave. I won't remain in this castle with James Potter breathing the same air."

The portraits of former headmasters stirred, some exchanging glances, some muttering under their breath. Dumbledore, however, leaned back, folding his hands.

"Such theatrics, Severus," Dumbledore mused gently. "You mistake me for someone who acts without reason." His gaze sharpened behind the lenses. "I brought James here, yes. And you may rage as you like… but you both carry the same grief."

Snape's lip curled in disgust. "We are nothing alike."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with quiet sadness. "Aren't you? You both lost her. One to the Dark Lord… the other to pride and time." He paused, his expression grave. "James is not here by choice. I asked him long before this term began—he refused."

"Then why now? What Changed this arrogant man " Snape's voice cracked, the venom replaced by raw, bitter anguish. "Why now?"

"Because the world is shifting, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "The Dark Lord is not truly gone. You know this. You've seen the signs… the whispers, the disappearances, the strange magic in the air." His voice lowered. "I need allies—trusted ones. And James Potter… after that incident he doesn't trust anyone easily and I brought him here to regain his trust and for all his flaws… he is capable. And determined his is the father of the Chosen One by fate . More importantly…" His eyes glinted with sharp purpose, "…you are still here. Watching over his son."

Snape's expression darkened, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. "I don't care about Potter… or his son."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a knowing murmur. "You've stayed at Hogwarts all these years, Severus… not for the castle, not for me. For him. For the boy. The last living piece of her."

The words struck deep, and for a heartbeat, Snape's iron façade cracked—the faintest flicker of pain in his obsidian eyes.

Finally, he spoke, voice like grinding stone, "Then tell James Potter… to stay away from me. I swear, if he crosses me again…" His jaw clenched, rage simmering beneath the surface, "…I will do something… unacceptable."

Dumbledore regarded him for a long moment, then, with infuriating calm, offered the bowl of candies once more. "Sherbet lemon?"

Snape's eyes narrowed with disdain. He turned without a word, his robes swirling behind him as he swept from the room, slamming the heavy oak door shut with another sharp echo.

The office settled into silence, save for the quiet muttering of portraits overhead.

Phineas Nigellus Black's voice was the first to break the tension, sneering from his frame near the bookshelf.

"Foolish decisions, Dumbledore," Phineas declared, his painted eyes narrowing. "Bringing two old enemies under one roof—endangering the students. What happens when pride gets the better of them? You know as well as I do, the Dark Lord isn't finished. You tempt fate with this recklessness."

Other portraits murmured in agreement, some shaking their heads, others whispering among themselves.

Dumbledore, still unbothered, sucked thoughtfully on a lemon drop, the faint citrus scent filling the room.

"Difficult choices," he mused quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "Necessary ones."

His blue eyes glinted, ancient and wise behind his spectacles, as he gazed toward the closed door.

"We will need them both… when the storm finally breaks."