8

Chapter Eight: Returning to Hogwarts

As if it wasn't bad enough being on the train and hearing whispers and people wanting autographs, but it was even worse at Hogwarts itself. Harry hadn't had a moment to himself since he'd gotten here.

The start of year banquet was about to start, and he was caught in the middle of a bunch of first years who wanted to hear him speak, see his scar, see the Elder Wand (which he'd snapped in half), and even touch him! It was more than he could handle.

He could hear Ron and Hermione trying to push the kids out of the way and let him through, Ron tossing out insults left and right. The kids were disappointed, but Harry was more than happy to see them starting to part. However, it was only because McGonagall came into view and got them back in line. Even as headmistress, she was still the Head of Sorting.

"Potter, get inside, you too, Weasley and Granger, you've been sorted years ago," she snapped, a list of new year's names in her hands. Harry was more than happy to nod eagerly and walk past her, escaping the murmurs of disappointment from the younger group.

"Bloody vultures, I tell you," Ron muttered, opening the doors and sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Harry felt Hermione rub his shoulder and he nodded in thanks before sitting opposite the two.

"I'm sure it won't be like that all year," the girl tried to reassure, though Ron raising a brow. She knew Harry was famous, and that people thanked him for the defeat of Voldemort, but she hated seeing her friend like this. She knew he just wanted some peace and quiet.

"You're kidding. Harry's as famous as they come, 'Mione," the red-headed boy said, though stopping when he received a rather sharp glare from his girlfriend. "Right… I'm sure it'll get better, Harry."

Harry just stared into his empty plate, his hands on the table before him. He didn't want think what it was going to be like for him if this was what his life was going to end up being. Constant noise, people wanting so much from him. He just wanted his own privacy! Maybe living in the cupboard under the stairs wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Harry pushed his glasses up as the first years walked in, tailing McGonagall. He remembered when that was him. He was so nervous, and he could just imagine them all being as nervous. Even then he was famous, though. Although he had no idea why he was so famous at the time.

It was childish of him to think that everything would change once Voldemort was gone. Of course he knew people would be thankful, but wanting to touch him!? It was ludicrous! He wasn't some kind of bag to be tossed around to feed them all their glory. He was just an eighteen year old boy!

An eighteen year old boy who had defeated one of the most powerful wizards of all time. An eighteen year old boy who no one thought could do all of that. But he'd had his friends and family by his side from the start. And that's all he wanted to be with right now. He knew taking his final year at Hogwarts was going to be a complete disaster.

The Sorting Ceremony went on as it did every year, and Harry wondered what his life could have been like if he had been put in Slytherin House. Would Snape have hated him just as much? Would he have looked after him as one of his Snakes?

The Sorting Hat had made it clear that he was simply put in Gryffindor because he had wanted to be there. He had chosen to be there. But what if he hadn't? What if he hadn't seen Malfoy and gotten such bad vibes off him that he didn't choose not to be there?

He ran his hand against the scar that was on his forehead. There honestly wasn't much point in thinking about it anymore. He was in his final year at Hogwarts, and it wasn't like he could change it all now. He did wonder, though.

As the final first year was sorted, McGonagall explained all the school rules like Dumbledore once had, and then the banquet began. Harry couldn't help but laugh as the first year's new to Gryffindor all gasped in awe as the food appeared before them.

Harry took it upon himself to grab a chicken leg and eat. Hogwarts had always had amazing food. Especially considering what he'd eaten when living with the Dursley's. He always made sure to eat plenty while he could.

Of course, he heard the whispers and saw the looks people were giving him. He tried his best to ignore it. He figured it would be easy, that he should be used to it by now, but this time, having actually defeated Voldemort, it was much worse.

Girls were giggling at him, giving him dreamy looks (even some boys), and it felt like his skin was crawling from all the trying-to-be-subtle glances that came his way.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mate," said Ron, his mouth full of beef, "They'll all get over it soon. They're just first years," he shrugged, shooting one of them a glare as they were staring at Harry. The young boy quickly looked away.

Hermione nodded, putting her hand on Harry's. "Ron's right, Harry," she said, Ron giving her a surprised look. Typical of him when she complimented his thoughts.

"You're a big name right now, but it'll die down soon. Someone else will appear and be the latest headline. It's only a matter of time."

When had that ever been the case, though? Harry was always in the tabloids. He felt like he couldn't even go to the toilet without his privacy being invaded. It's why he used so many warding spells when he went to sleep or had his back turned. He had to. Call him paranoid, but he had to do it for his own protection.

He nodded, though, not wanting his friends to worry about him. "I'm sure it will," he lied, giving a gentle smile to his friends before pushing his plate aside. He wasn't feeling very hungry anymore.

He wanted to return to the common room already, but he knew he had other things to tend to. Hogwarts didn't give you much time to get anything organised, as school started immediately (tomorrow morning), and he needed to ask Professor Snape if he could get into his classes this year.

He'd ask about Ron, too. Although… there was something telling him to not even mention Ron, but he didn't know what it was and why. Maybe he just wanted to be alone with Snape so he could finally talk to him…? He didn't know.

Over the holidays, it had been rather frustrating. His mind hadn't let Snape out of it, and he'd had more than one dream about the man. It made him angry because he didn't know what it meant. He'd just broken up with Ginny a few months ago, and here he was having rather… explicit dreams about a man!

He hadn't told anyone about them. He didn't know how. It was rather embarrassing actually. He'd wanted to tell someone, just so it was off his chest, but he just didn't know how to. Plus… it was Professor Snape!

The bad thing was, the more he'd stayed away from the man… the more he felt like he wanted to be in the same room as him.

As everyone else was eating and chatting, he looked up to the High Table, seeing all the new professors who would be teaching here now. There were quite a few new faces, and of course, there were some familiar ones we well which made him pleased.

Hagrid was one. He'd be teaching the class of Care of Magical Creatures again, which pleased Harry. He'd been so nervous the first time he'd taught them, and it looked like McGonagall had been alright with giving him the position again. Despite Hagrid not being allowed to use magic as he never graduated and had been expelled, magical creatures was completely different, and Hagrid was more than suitable for the position.

His eyes went a few seats across to find his chest thumping rather hard into his head. He swallowed gently, and tried to keep his blood-flow down, feeling his cheeks flush. There sat Professor Snape in deep conversation with the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Harry," came a voice, Ginny sitting beside him, he immediately spun around and looked at her, trying to cover up his flush as if he'd been caught looking at Professor Snape.

He smiled lightly as a mug was pushed in front of him to drink.

"You really need to eat and drink some more before the night's out, Harry," said the red-haired girl.

"Yeah… sorry," Harry mumbled, picking up the drink. He didn't have any more food, but just to please Ginny, he had a drink of the cup she'd given him, smiling gently.

Eventually, McGonagall stood up and told them that they were all to return to their dormitories and that the Prefects would be leading them back. Unfortunately for Harry, this meant a crowd trying to talk to him as soon as all the Houses were allowed out of the Great Hall.

He tried to ignore them the best he could, and it made him even more angry that the Prefects couldn't get a hold of their House members.

He could feel himself growing angry, and he felt both Ron and Hermione trying to push people out of the way for him.

Harry could hear his name being whispered and called out, people saying things like 'is that really him?' and 'that's Harry Potter!'. Harry was getting more than annoyed now, and he actually went for his wand before he felt a wrist grab at his hand and stop him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mister Potter. Unless you wish to be expelled?" said a dark yet soothing voice. Harry looked up behind him, feeling a comfortable surge of magic going through him as he saw Snape's dark eyes on him. Immediately he looked away and flushed, but took his hand back.

Somehow the thought of expulsion didn't seem so bad right now.

"Get to your common rooms, you heard the headmistress!" snapped Snape, everyone seeming horrified to see the professor. Immediately, they begun getting back in line and Snape looked back to Potter, giving him a scowl.

"I see your celebrity status hasn't changed much," he drawled, eyes flat. "Get to your common room before I take points off you for creating such a disturbance in the corridors," he said, turning on his heal, his robes billowing behind him.

"Wait, Professor!" Harry called out, Ron and Hermione still beside him. He told them that they could go back as he needed to talk to Snape, and the both of them hesitantly did so.

Snape turned, raising a brow in question. He couldn't lie to himself; Harry had been on his mind quite a fair bit during the holidays. He'd often pushed the thoughts aside, thinking they were stupid, but he didn't completely disregard of them. As much as he'd tried to, it seemed impossible.

"I… can I speak to you privately?" asked Harry, his eyes looking at the taller man.

Severus kept his gaze as simple as possible, his hands going behind him. "And what, Mister Potter, would you be needing to speak to me about that cannot be done so here, or cannot wait until a more appropriate time?" he asked curiously, watching the boy carefully.

He could feel the anger that Harry had been experiencing a few moments ago. Of course, most of the teachers were probably aware of what had been happening as they'd been heading to their own quarters for the night as well (and to speak to their new House members), which annoyed him that no one else had stepped in.

He'd seen the commotion coming. How could he not? Harry Potter was a famous wizard for his actions and everyone seemed to want a piece of him. Snape mentally scoffed as he'd seen the whole thing.

As a professor, though, it was a duty to look after the students, and so he'd had to eventually step in when he'd seen Potter going for his wand—not to mention he could feel the surges of angry magic coming from him.

"I wanted to take Potions this year," said Harry, though looking down as he knew the answer would be a no. To his surprise, Snape didn't laugh or scoff or… even say anything.

He looked back up, feeling the urge to explain himself. "I know I'm not very good at it, sir, but I have a feeling that if I was given a better chance. And… I need it to become an Auror."

Snape looked at the boy in surprise. Harry Potter wasn't bad at Potions, he just didn't put in the effort! For Merlin's sake, his mother was just as good as Severus had been! She was extremely gifted in Potions. If Harry did the work correctly, then he would have been just as great! Instead, he let his fame get to his head and he flunked it. Just like his father!

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he shrugged. "Your scores are too far gone for my classes, Potter," he said as if it were obvious. "It wouldn't be possible unless you had some kind of tutor to aid you in catching up. I'm sure Quidditch still has many openings for you," he said rather sarcastically, giving a mean smirk.

Harry didn't like the look on Snape's face, and he had a feeling that the man was purposely trying to make him angry. Why!? After all that had happened between them, he figured Snape's attitude would have changed.

He was wrong.

Harry felt deflated, though. As much as he would have loved to play professional Quidditch, it wasn't what his heart wanted. He wanted to be an Auror. He always had been. Sure, Quidditch was fun, but it was just a hobby. It wasn't the career choice he was looking for.

"Good evening, Mister Potter, I have to return to my Slytherin's," Snape muttered rather pleased with himself. He stopped when he felt a surge of magic strike against his arm though, making him turn as Harry's hand was on him.

"Potter!" he hissed, shrugging his sleeve free and ignoring the pulse of sheer pleasure that had gone through him from the young man's touch.

"You save my life for seven years, you let me have Fawkes over the holidays, you even buy me an owl, and then once I come back here you treat me like scum again!?" Harry yelled, outraged.

"All I want is to get into your class so I can have a normal career in my life. The only normal thing I'll probably ever have, and you're going to rob me of that!? The only normalcy I can ever have because no one else can look past what I've done!?"

Severus' eyes widened in surprise, though a tingle of delight hitting in his stomach as he watched how angry Harry was. It wasn't his sadistic side that was making him feel that way, though. He didn't quite know what it was. But he enjoyed it, even if he soon felt guilty.

"Do you honestly hate me that much, Professor?"

Hate? The words hit Severus like a hammer as he looked at the boy. He didn't… hate Harry. He never truly hated him. He disliked him many a times for his celebrity status, his arrogance and the way he reminded him so much of his father, but he had never truly hated him.

He felt his hands clench at the thought that Harry could say he hated him. After all he'd ever done for him!? After risking his life numerous amounts of times for that stupid boy! How dare he stand there and say he hated him!?

"You churlish little prat," he spat nastily, Harry's eyes narrowing. "I risked my life for you and this is the appreciation I receive? I could have easily handed you over to the Dark Lord, but I did not! I risked my life day after day for you, Potter, and you dare say that I hate you!?"

Harry was surprised at that. He was expecting to hear Snape retort that he did hate him, that he was arrogant just like his father. When he didn't, Harry just stared at him.

If he didn't hate him, then why did he treat him so badly? Why did he always single him out? Pick on him? Make him feel horrible in front of all the other students!?

"Why, then? Why can't you ever be nice to me?" he asked, his green eyes piercing the darkest of brown ones.

"I know there's good in you, Professor, I've seen it… but then why could you never be nice to me? You humiliated me the first day I came here! I felt awful! I let my House down because you took points from me, and I had no idea what you were talking about even though I had read the books. I can't read everything at once, you know?"

"Because I had to, you insolent fool," snapped Snape. "Do you think the Dark Lord would have trusted me if I was nice to you!? If I favoured you!? Not to mention you were the spawn of such an arrogant moron of a man," he muttered.

Looking back up, Harry's eyes watched as the man looked away. So he hated him because he reminded him of James so much?

Harry frowned. He couldn't help the way he looked! And he was far from the same as his father. James had been cruel to Snape as a kid, he knew that, and he understood completely why Snape may have been mean to him. Still, he wasn't his father, and Snape should have known that. He didn't even give him a chance to prove himself!

"What will it do to prove to you that I am not like my father?" he asked, quite serious about his offer. He hated it that Snape always mentioned his father. Not only did he bad mouth the man (which he could understand why, even if it got to be like a broken record), but it made him feel worse about himself. He loved his father. No doubt about it, but he did not want to be seen that way. He was not arrogant. He didn't like the fame! He hated it! He just wanted a normal life!

Snape scoffed. "Nothing will ever prove to me that you are not as egotistical as that man was," he made clear. "Now before I take off ten points from your House and displease your new fan-club, I'd suggest getting back to your common room, Potter."

As Snape turned around, Harry growled, his teeth gritting. "You're such a jerk!" he snapped out, wishing he could reach for his wand and hex the man. He'd saved his life for Christ's sake! This was seriously how he was going to treat him!? After sending him confused messages with Fawkes and Spells?

Turning, Severus smirked at that. "Ten points, Potter, and if you open your silly mouth again, I'll be adding a month's detention."

Harry's lips went tight, but his eyes were saying something else. They were furious! He'd never seen them so angry before, and hurt.

The boy said nothing, though, so he turned around and headed back to the dungeons.

Harry felt his hands shaking in intense range. He wished the man would just trip and fall flat on his face or something. But he realised if he thought that, it might actually happen, and he remembered accidental magic could happen, so he looked away and stormed back to the Gryffindor common room.

*****

"Ten points already, Potter?" McGonagall sighed, still Head of House. She'd just gone through the rules when Harry stepped through the door. All of the first years were settling into their rooms, the older students out and about. She would be sending them to bed soon.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, his head bowing. "I didn't mean it, it just slipped out. I thought things might have changed, you know? Apparently not. I'm an idiot to think Professor Snape would ever cut me some slack."

McGonagall frowned, putting her hand to the young man's shoulder. "Don't worry, Potter, I will have a word with him."

That made Harry's heart lurch at the thought. He didn't want Snape thinking he was a baby and went and told on him about what had happened!

"No," he said, putting his hand up, "it's fine, Professor… I don't want any more trouble coming out of it. I'll just try and stay out of his way."

"And what of your classes?" asked the elderly witch. "I will talk to Severus about it. I'm sure he's just being picky because of your final marks. I will speak to him about it in the morning."

"Professor, please, I don't want to make anything big out of this," Harry protested. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to hate him even more. He knew he didn't have class with him anymore (since Snape clearly said no), but that didn't mean Snape didn't see him in the corridors. He'd be watching him like a hawk, just trying to make him suffer.

McGonagall shook her head gently. "Potter, this is your future we are discussing. I will talk to Professor Snape, if only to mention your grades. I don't care if you don't want me to, I am the Headmistress here, therefore I have full authority on what classes you may enter."

It was no use to argue with her, and Harry knew it. Instead, he just nodded glumly.

"Good, now off to bed, Potter, and the rest of you. I'll see you in class tomorrow." Even though she was the headmistress, she still enjoyed taking her Transfiguration classes.

When the headmistress left, Harry apologised to the group of Gryffindors about the loss of points on the first day. None of them seemed to mind, knowing what Snape could be like—and the first years would soon find out. Harry, though? He was utterly disappointed that he'd cost them so many points. And he was even more disappointed that Snape clearly hadn't changed, and it pissed him off that he'd acted so mean towards him when all he'd asked for was some help.

So much for saving the man's life. He almost regretted it. No, that wasn't true. As much as he wished it was right now, the pain in his gut and chest was actually a lot more hurt than anything else.

He thought Snape had started to like him, sending him Fawkes and Spells. So much for that.

Heading upstairs to the boy's room, he walked over to the snowy owl that was perched up on his nightstand. "Hey, Spells," he murmured gently, patting the owl. She gave a soft chitter to his pats and nibbled on him. Harry just smiled.

Changing, he slipped under the covers and tried his best to sleep. At least it was quiet in here, and there was no one trying to get his signature or touch him.

Why hadn't anyone else stood up for him? Why was it just Snape that had been there? He knew all of the Houses were returning to their common rooms, but surely another teacher had seen what was going on. He was being hounded by people! It was insane! And Snape had been the one to shoo them all off.

For a moment, Harry had enjoyed the man being there behind him, protecting him from such savages. He could feel the magic from the man as he'd grabbed his wand hand and lowered it. Could he have just been protecting the other students (and potentially himself) from Harry's accidental magic that could have happened?

Typical.

He meant nothing to Snape. It made Harry angry, and all he could think about was hating the man. Unfortunately, he couldn't. At the same time, he was thinking about Ginny for some strange reason.

Why Ginny? Snape, he could understand (well, not really, but he was bothered by him at the moment), but Ginny?

Harry frowned at the feeling of Ginny being on his mind again. Had he done the wrong thing in breaking up with her?

*****

Severus removed his teaching robes and laid them down on the back of the chair in his office before sitting at his desk. He'd just got done with telling the new Snakes the rules of the Slytherin common room as well as if they needed anything and where to find him.

The Prefect had already informed them of the dormitory password. Like every year, though, he expected to find some of them standing out there trying to remember it.

He rolled his eyes at how silly they could be. He'd never forgotten the passwords, even with how many changes they had to them. Well, that was children. Dunderheads.

Considering classes started right away tomorrow, he gathered a few things and got ready.

When he was making notes, he heard a knock on his door. He figured it was one of the new students, so he got up and opened it, surprised to see Minerva standing there.

Immediately, he knew why. He folded his arms. "Potter sent his cat after me?" he smirked, though allowing her inside. He didn't have much choice—she was the headmistress.

Minerva closed the door behind her, rolling her eyes at the Animagus joke. "You're talking about the boy's future here, Severus," she said sternly. "Can't you see that he was asking you for help? As horrifying as that thought is."

Severus sat back down. "Potter's marks are too low from the previous years, not to mention he only got into that ridiculous Slug-Club because he was cheating," he mumbled. Minerva gave him a strange look. "Potter found my previous school book and decided to steal it for himself. I'd made numerous notes on the pages, and he'd managed to use some of my own spells. Dangerous spells, I might add."

The woman's green eyes widened for a moment before nodding. "I see," she muttered, not even bothering to ask how that had come to be in the boy's possession. How Severus could leave his old books lying around for other students to find bewildered her.

"The point is, Severus, you know the boy has it in him to learn Potions. You were Lily Potter's friend. You saw how good of a student she was. It's in his blood. You just need to give him a chance to prove himself."

Severus found himself stiffening at the mention of Lily 'Potter'. He sometimes forgot that others knew so much about his past now from his memories.

He intertwined his hand onto the table. "That is beside the point. He flunked his tests. He failed. Why should I be willing to give him a second chance when he already has proven that he does not have the concentration for such intricate detailing? Potter is nothing like his mother."

"You're wrong, Severus," said the woman, seeing the man's brow tighten. "Potter is more like his mother than you let on. He may resemble James, but he has his mother's heart. Today he put his faith in you, and you disappointed him."

Like he cared? Snape sneered. "You think I care for that boy's feelings? Now that the Dark Lord is gone, I hardly care for the boy's emotional and hormonal state. He's a teenager. He'll get over it and realise that life isn't fair just like the rest of us have."

Minerva scowled. "So that's all this is? You're just teaching Harry that he can't always get what he wants even if he tries hard? Just like you, Severus?" She shook her head.

"Don't make the boy suffer just because you didn't get what you wanted in life. Harry Potter saved your life thinking you had murdered Dumbledore for the sake of Voldemort. Harry Potter sat by your side while you were recovering from your wounds after the defeat of Voldemort, and he's been trying his best to get to know you ever since, and this is how you repay him? Throwing it all back in his face? You selfish child."

That made Severus' hands go tight. "I am not a child!"

"Then prove it!" Minerva yelled, her hands going out. "You will meet Potter in your classroom tomorrow morning. As headmistress of Hogwarts, I am insisting that you assist young Mister Potter in tutoring so he can take his N.E.W.T's in Potions."

"What!?" Severus stood up from his desk.

"You think your lives are so different? I am going to give you two the opportunity of a lifetime to get to know one another," the elderly witch mused. "Eight a.m sharp, Severus. If you don't show, I will reconsider your position as Potions master."

Snape felt his knuckles whiten—which almost seemed impossible with his pale complexion.

"Have a good night, Severus. Oh, and you might want to send Fawkes to Potter, letting him know of the arrangement as soon as possible," she smiled. "You should know that cats have very sharp claws when they come out."

When the door closed, Severus fell into his seat, ready to throw a thousand hexes at anyone else who wandered into his office tonight. She was barking mad!

He ran his fingers against his forehead for a moment, brushing the hair from his face. This was ridiculous. Potter was nothing like his mother! He refused to believe it. And yet, the thought of the boy still made him feel strange and confused inside.

Seeing him with all that attention tonight had made him angry. How the boy could waste his life so much with his celebrity status was beyond him. He was a powerful wizard and he did have the potential to be intelligent with his magic. And yet he didn't do anything because he let others distract him so much!

If Harry would concentrate for just a moment then maybe he'd be able to brew something right. Instead, he allowed his stupid friends to persuade him into doing things wrong and never got any good results. He knew the boy could do well in Potions class, but making him, of all people, tutor him?

Snape mentally groaned, venting a sigh.

There was sudden movement and Fawkes was on his desk, pushing a piece of parchment with his beak towards him before picking up the quill.

He leant back up, the bird looking at him rather eagerly. "Fine," he muttered, picking up the quill and writing the note for Potter. "In the morning, deliver this to his common room door. Potter won't even have time for breakfast," he muttered. And nor would he.