Severus the Severe

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

"Can you believe he's in Slytherin?!"

"What if he's the next dark lord...?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. The very worst of them were the doors that required for you to flirt with them before they opened - only to reveal a broom cupboard tucked away behind them - the knowledge of this made Harry and Ron cast a few strange looks at the caretaker, Argus Filch, whenever they saw him. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new students in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing through nearby.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a frumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Ulric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was, again, different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

Harry felt happy for Hermione - and had surreptitiously hidden his success from the class. Of all the students that day - Harry Potter was the only student to successfully transfigure his needle. This was an impressive feat, to say the least - and on any other occasion, Harry might be inclined to show off. However, a seed of caution had been planted in Harry. From Professor Quirell, who made his scar hurt - to the very old and very suspicious rat that Ron kept in hand at nearly all times - Harry felt as though he were in a poker game, where he had to keep his cards close at hand until he needed them. So careful was Harry, that even though Ron had been sitting right next to him - he had not even noticed when Harry succeeded in transfiguring the needle.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. His time living with Sirius had given him an edge over the other students - an edge he needed to keep hidden. It was made easier by the fact that there was so much to learn that even people like Ron, who was a pureblood wizard didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way up to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Gryffindors," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors us -- we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, and she was very impartial in that she gave everyone the same exact mountain of homework to complete, regardless of their houses.

Basil was there and was delightedly devouring a large plate of sausages - he seemed to be humming a tune in parseltongue that went along the lines of, "I love sausage - sausage loves me - sausage looks a little like my family!"

With a grin, Harry thought to himself that snakes certainly were a bit sausage-shaped. Basil did seem to be getting a little fat, however. Sausage and eggs every day can't be too healthy for a snake. I should see about putting him on a diet.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?

I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. You haven't seen her much lately, so it would be good for you to do a little more bonding with her.

Hagrid

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled "Yes, please, see you later!" on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to because the Potions lesson turned out to be the most stressful thing that had happened to him so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. After the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he hated him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry. Harry was panicking on the inside - Sirius didn't know much about potions, so Harry had never had the opportunity to make a study of them.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything. Too bad - I had SUCH high expectations for a member of Slytherin house."

Snape glowered at Harry, and Harry felt like shrinking in his seat.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry didn't have the faintest idea of what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at home, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," said Harry quietly.

A few people laughed; Snape, however, was not pleased.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel, and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Slytherin House for your - failings - Potter."

The class went silent - it was at that moment that everyone knew and felt pity for Harry - if Snape went so far as to take a point from Slytherin, it was clear that Snape had some kind of vendetta against Harry.

Things for the Gryffindors became far worse than Harry's situation, however, as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

Harry, who had been seated near to Neville and Seamus, was interrupted by Basil who saw that Neville was just about to add the porcupine quills at the wrong time.

"Harry, look, Neville'ssss doing it wrong," Said Basil to Harry. "You ssshould ssstop him!"

Harry looked over and saw what Basil was talking about. Snape frowned at Harry when he noticed that the snake seemed to be talking to Harry - but he didn't interrupt them.

"Neville, don't!" Said Harry, startling Neville. "You're supposed to take it off the fire first, it says so in the book right the- " Said Harry before he was interrupted by Seamus. "Ignore him, Neville - he's probably trying to screw with you. After all - he is a Slytherin." Snape observed this with a raised eyebrow.

In the next moment, Neville chose to ignore Harry and added the porcupine quills. With a burst of smoke Seamus's cauldron melted into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Harry had made a lunge at Neville and got himself and Basil covered in the potion, whereas Neville had been pulled to safety.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Harry, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand.

Harry and Basil whimpered and hissed as red angry boils started to pop up all over.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Draco. "Me?!" Said Draco indignantly. Then Snape rounded on Seamus, who had been working with Neville.

"You -- Finnigan -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Didn't you bother to read the book? Think he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? And when another student tried to help, you slandered him and his house - and now look. The student who tried to help you has been injured. That's 20 points you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Seamus opened his mouth to argue, but Neville kicked him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," Neville muttered in terror, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty." Neville seemed like he was ready to keel over in terror while staring at Snape.

Snape looked at Harry on the floor, "I suppose you think you were being heroic, don't you? What would you have done if that potion had been deadly? Hmm?! 10 points from Slytherin, for your sheer stupidity!"

---

Draco sat by Harry's bed in the infirmary, arms crossed and looking very sour.

"You're lucky you're in the infirmary, Potter." Said Draco with a snarl.

Harry looked at Draco in confusion. "Why don't you like me, Draco? Is it because of what happened on the train?"

Draco looked startled and then uncomfortable for a moment before resuming his usual snarl.

"You've lost 11 points for Slytherin in your first class with Slytherin's own head of house teaching! How much of an idiot do you have to be? And saving that dunderhead, Neville Longbottom. If it were up to my father that idiot wouldn't even be allowed in the school!"

Basil appeared miserable but still mustered up enough energy to hiss at Draco with displeasure.

Draco seemed a bit intimidated by the snake. "If you hate me so much, why are you still here, Malfoy?" said Harry, bluntly.

Draco froze at that, and then looked awkwardly out of a nearby window with a frown.

"Don't you remember, Potter? Whether I like you or not, you're part of my house. McGonagall said it at the start of term - your house is like your family. You don't leave your family alone in the infirmary when they've been injured." Said Draco, righteously.

Harry's eyes widened at that and he stared at Draco in shock.

"You know, Draco... I think Ron and I have the wrong impression of you."

"Hmmph." Frowned Draco - though the tips of his pale ears had turned a little pink, as though he were embarrassed.

Harry and Draco sat in silence for a bit before Madame Pomfrey approached with a small tray in hand.

"You can thank Professor Snape for delivering this potion for you and your snake, Mr. Potter. If not, I think you'd be in here all night with those boils."

Harry seemed amazed at this - and Draco frowned at Harry's expression.

"Why so surprised, Potter?" asked Draco with anger in his eyes.

Harry frowned at Draco before replying, "It's just - I go the distinct impression that Professor Snape doesn't like me."

Draco snorted. "Of course he doesn't - I heard it from my father that your father used to bully Snape terribly when they were kids here at Hogwarts."

Harry was shocked, "What...?" and then enraged, "Take that back, Malfoy!"

Draco snorted, crossed his arms over his chest and glared out of a window.

Harry was fuming - and then he looked at the potion once again. After a few moments, he calmed down and thought through it as calmly as he could.

"Was... my father really a... a bully?" He asked Draco weakly.

"As far as I know." Nodded Draco with a frown. Then, Draco sighed. "He couldn't have been all bad. He was a seeker, you know. On the Gryffindor quidditch team, best seeker they'd had in years. If I'm being honest - its probably because of your mother that Snape was so hard on you."

Harry looked at Draco, in a daze. "My... mother?"

Draco looked at Harry conspiratorially. "I'm not supposed to know this - but I was visiting Snape over the holidays last year and I found a bunch of letters to Lily Evans in his house."

"Why were you visiting him over the holidays?" Asked Harry confused. "And who is Lily Evans?"

Draco grinned at Harry, "I told you before, Snape is my godfather. Evans is your mother's maiden name. I only found out when I came to Hogwarts and I was going through some old photos in Snape's office. He told me himself - Lily Evans married your father right out of Hogwarts."

"As far as I can tell - Snape and your father were rivals in love - and Lily chose your father instead of Snape. Why wouldn't he hate you?"

This news was mind-blowing for Harry.

For a while, Harry was silent, and Draco sat, happily wiling away his time eating some sweets he carried around hidden in his robe.

Noticing that Harry seemed lost, Draco stared at the sweets in his hands before sighing and tossing one to Harry.

"No need to get all depressed about it, Potter." Draco seemed a little sad at giving up his sweets to Harry.

Harry himself was very confused and only after a minute did he unwrap the delicious sweet and take a bite. Harry almost immediately perked up - and shared a bit of the sweet with Basil who was looking at Harry with large pitiful eyes.

Draco seemed pleased that Harry liked the sweet, and took out another one for himself.

"Where'd you get these, Draco?" asked Harry.

"My mum sent them to me. Sends a bunch every week." Said Draco absentmindedly as he munched.

"She must love you a lot." Said Harry, looking at Draco with a profound gaze.

"Of course she does, Potter. She's my mum." Said Draco, matter-of-factly.

As the two lapsed into silence once more, Harry suddenly felt as though all the boils on his body suddenly disappeared.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from around the corner and gave Harry a cursory inspection. "Alright, Mr. Potter. It seems that Professor Snape's potion has done its job. You and your friends are free to go." She said while looking at Basil and Draco.

Draco nearly spat out the sweets he still had in his mouth, "We're not.. He's not my-" before he could finish what he was saying Harry interrupted him.

"We'll be going then, Madame Pomfrey. We've got an appointment for tea at Hagrids in a bit."

And with that, Harry grabbed Draco by the arm and dragged him out of the infirmary.

"Hagrid's?" questioned Draco, with venom. "I'm not going to that buffoon's house for tea - I might get bitten by something and die!"

Harry grinned at Draco mischievously. "Don't tell me you're scared of a little tea, Draco?"

"I'm... not..." Said Draco, who now seemed very lost and confused.

"Housemates should stick together, shouldn't we?" Said Harry, "After all, I might get bitten by something at Hagrid's and die."

With a sputtering Draco following behind him in a dazed and confused fashion, Harry sped through the corridors, looking for Ron.

---

"Hold up," said Ron, "You meant to tell me that Snape was in love with your mother? Snape?! And now you're best buddies with Draco."

"Roughly. Draco's not that bad when you give him a chance." Said Harry.

Ron stood there, shock written all over his face, "Not that bad?!"

Harry looked to be walking away from Ron, followed by a sneering and ambivalent looking Draco.

"Are you coming, or not Ron? You said friends had to stick together-"

"I know what I said, but... But Malfoy?! Really?"

"It's not like I'm happy about being stuck with you either, Weasley!"

For a moment, it was like lightning had struck back and forth between Draco and Ron. They looked as though they were about ready to tackle each other - when all of a sudden they noticed that Harry had disappeared.

"Potter?" Said Draco, "Harry?" said Ron, both of them a little surprised at his disappearance. Just then, Harry poked his head around a corner and looked at them with an impish grin.

"Come on you two - we're gonna be late for tea!"

And with that, Ron and Draco grudgingly followed after Harry. Along the way, they seemed to start racing each other, competition in nearly everything they did.

Little did they know that another pair of eyes were watching them with interest - and a little bit of sadness.

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron, and that's Draco," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spend half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

"And you mus' be Lucius Malfoy's boy. Great Wizard he is, even if I do disagree wit him on some things."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them while Draco stared at them in disdain. They told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry, Draco and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her -- Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me." Said Harry, causing Draco to roll his eyes behind him.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"Because he loved my mother - and she married the guy who bullied him."

Hagrid went white as a sheet, "Now who told you tha'?" Said Hagrid, with a sad look in his eyes.

"I did." Said Draco in the background.

Hagrid glanced at him and then sighed. "Aye, it was about like tha', wasn' it? Still, no reason to think he'd be taking it out on you, now is there? Not like it was yer fault or nothing - you weren' even born yet. If I know anything about Snape, and I'll be honest I don' know all that much - he prides hisself on treating his students fairly."

"Fairly?" Scoffed Ron. "Harry saved another student and lost 10 points. You call that fair?"

"Aye, well he had a point didn' he? What if it was deadly? Then we'd prob'ly have two dead students 'stead of jus' one."

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron, changing the subject. "I liked him a lot -- great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet :

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokes-goblin this afternoon.

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about else that he didn't want to tell Harry?