The door creaked open again only minutes after Eira had left. Severus Snape swept inside with his usual deliberate stride, robes trailing like shadows caught in a storm. His face was carved in disdain, though his eyes gleamed with something more dangerous: simmering anger held carefully in check.
Dumbledore, who was back at his desk, looked up as if he had been expecting him. His long fingers rested lightly on the arms of his chair, the picture of composure.
"Ah, Severus," he said warmly. "Twice in one day. It must be important."
Snape's lips curled, not quite into a smile. "Important? Headmaster, I should hope so. Unless, of course, you regard open defiance of a professor before an entire House as trivial."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly behind his half-moon spectacles. "Trivial? No, no, nothing is trivial at Hogwarts. Though one might say it depends very much on how one frames the matter."
Snape's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Then let us frame it plainly. The girl is insufferable. Insolent. Arrogant. She believes her name and her position grant her the right to stand above rules, above teachers, above me. If this continues unchecked, you will have more than one unruly student on your hands. You will have a precedent."
Dumbledore folded his hands together as though Snape's words were a lecture on potion theory rather than a personal accusation. "Precedents can be dangerous things," he mused. "But sometimes… they can also be useful."
"Useful?" Snape's nostrils flared. "She challenged me, Albus. Before Slytherin. Before Gryffindor. The damage to my authority is done. Unless you intend to support me, the balance of discipline in this school will unravel."
"I have always supported you, Severus," Dumbledore replied gently. "Though support does not always wear the shape one expects. Sometimes it must be… subtler."
Snape sneered. "Subtlety will not repair the insult."
"Nor will expulsion," said Dumbledore, his voice calm but firm.
Snape stiffened. "I never said—"
"Oh, but you implied," Dumbledore interjected softly. "You implied it the first time we spoke of her, and you imply it again now. And I understand your frustration. Truly, I do. But to expel her would be to lose more than a troublesome student. We would lose an ally. One we may need very soon."
The room seemed to grow colder. Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "Ally? She is a child with too much pride."
"A child, yes," Dumbledore agreed, "but not without influence. And influence, as you know, Severus, is a currency far more potent than gold. The White family's reach is wide. Their standing among the old families is considerable. Do you imagine Hogwarts can afford to discard such a connection… at this particular time?"
Snape's jaw tightened. "You speak as though she is essential. She is not."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to press weight into the air. "You know who stirs, Severus. You know he is not gone. Do you imagine I have forgotten?"
At once, Snape's hand twitched to his left arm, fingers curling over the fabric that concealed the Dark Mark burned into his skin. His expression hardened, but a flicker of unease broke through.
"I do not need reminding," he said bitterly.
"No," Dumbledore said softly, "but perhaps you need perspective. Eira White is not your enemy. She may yet be the sort of student whose voice sways others when the time comes. Support, Severus… in whatever form it can be gathered, may be vital. You of all people understand what it means to be caught between forces greater than yourself."
Snape's lip curled. "Do not compare me to her."
"I compare no one," said Dumbledore, eyes glinting. "I merely observe. She stood against you today, yes, but she also stood for a friend. There is strength in loyalty, even when it chafes against authority."
"Loyalty," Snape spat. "Do you call defiance loyalty? She humiliated me. Before my House. Before my own prefects. If you have any regard for order, at least allow me to impose detention."
Dumbledore's gaze softened, though his words remained resolute. "No, Severus. Not detention. Not this time. The matter has already grown too visible. Discipline must sometimes yield to prudence."
Snape glared at him, face twisting in frustration. "So she escapes consequence? That is the lesson?"
"She escapes nothing," Dumbledore countered, his tone firm but not unkind. "She learns that words carry weight, and that they echo beyond the Great Hall. And you, Severus, must learn that she is still your student, still a member of your House. I ask that you see her not only as a White but as a Slytherin. Surely you, of all people, know what that means."
Snape's voice dropped to a hiss. "I know what it means to be Slytherin. Ambition, cunning, power. And arrogance. She carries them all, parading them as virtues."
"And yet," Dumbledore said quietly, "she may also carry the qualities that, in time, could protect others. Cunning can shield as well as wound. Ambition can build as well as destroy. Power can save as surely as it can condemn. Would you deny her the chance to learn which path she will walk?"
Snape's eyes burned with resentment, but beneath it flickered something sharper, something close to reluctant recognition. He turned away, pacing a step toward the fire. His hand lingered at his forearm again, unconsciously pressing against the hidden mark.
"You would shield her," he said lowly. "As you shield Potter. As you shield all those reckless children you imagine hold the future."
Dumbledore's reply came softly, almost like a sigh. "I shield what must be shielded. And I prepare for what must be faced. You know this, Severus. You have always known."
For a long moment, silence filled the office. The ticking of the instruments on the shelves seemed louder, the crackle of the fire sharper.
At last Snape turned, his voice quieter but no less edged. "And what would you have me do, then? Smile and praise her insolence? Invite her to tea?"
Dumbledore chuckled faintly, though his eyes did not lose their gravity. "Hardly. Merely treat her as you would any other student of your House. Guide her, if you can. Do not crush her spirit. There may come a day when her defiance serves a purpose larger than either of us."
Snape's sneer returned, though thinner than before. "You ask too much."
"I ask what is necessary," Dumbledore corrected gently. "And you, Severus, know better than anyone the price of necessity."
Their eyes met, and for a moment neither spoke. Then Snape drew his robes tighter around him, his face settling into a mask of disdain once more.
"Very well," he said at last, his tone sharp as a snapped thread. "But do not mistake my tolerance for approval. She will learn that arrogance has limits."
Dumbledore inclined his head, the faintest smile touching his lips. "I rely on you to teach her wisely."
Snape gave no reply. He turned on his heel, robes billowing once again, and swept from the office with a final, disdainful flick of his cloak.
When the door closed, Dumbledore sat back in his chair, eyes lingering on the fire. The twinkle in them dimmed for a moment, replaced by the shadow of a thought only he carried. Then, slowly, it returned, bright as ever.