Chapter 15-Severus Snape (Part 2)

Chapter 15: Severus Snape (Part 2)

Harry Potter. James Potter's son. A Slytherin.

He would have laughed at the irony were it not for the fact that he would have to look after the boy for the next seven years. He had counted on keeping an eye on the Boy Who Lived, of course, but from a distance – lending silent aid and keeping him out of harm's way whenever possible; he had hoped to minimize his contact with the Potter brat by any means necessary. But now...it was unavoidable. He was his Head of House – why couldn't Minerva have gotten stuck with the Potter boy? Or Flitwick, or Sprout...anyone but him?

He saw the Headmaster subtly grinning at him with a twinkle in his eyes.

Damn that old man. He'd enjoy this, every second of it.

Seven years as Potter's Head of House; seven years of dealing with the spawn of that wretched Gryffindor, no doubt spoiled by the fame and fortune he was born into. His guardians had no doubt...

Wait, guardians? Who did Albus send the boy to, again? No, it didn't matter. No matter where he'd grown up, what he'd been taught, or how he'd been raised, the Boy Who Lived could not possibly be immune to the fame and fortune his parents had left him with. Like Potter, he was no doubt another wealthy, entitled brat who would stop at nothing to make the next seven years of his life positively miserable. Causing trouble left and right, losing points, blowing up potions – he could see it all, every last debacle. It was going to be painful. So painful.

He took a deep breath. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, he told himself. Yes, he reminded himself, the child was rich and famous, but Potter had had no input into the raising of his son, who had been sorted in not just a different house, but the different house, so to speak. Perhaps he didn't share much more than a face, poor eyesight, and that untamable mop of hair with the late Potter Sr. After all, if the boy was anything like his father, he would have ended up in Gryffindor for sure. Perhaps he took after Lily, more, he dared to hope. Although...Lily would have never ended up in Slytherin either. Ravenclaw, maybe, but definitely not Slytherin. No, the boy was a complete enigma. Any assumptions he planned to make about the boy flew out the window the moment he failed to be sorted into Gryffindor. Only time would tell, he supposed, how wrong those assumptions would have been. For now, he could only watch.

"Oh, Severus!"

He groaned inwardly. Professor McGonagall was the last person he wanted to talk to – he could already guess the topic up for discussion.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"How have classes been going thus far?"

He sighed. "Come, Minerva, we both know what you really want to talk about."

A smile crept across her lips.

"Out with it," he said, resigned.

"Now, now, Severus, no need to be so sour. I just wanted to tell you about my first class with our young Mr. Potter."

"Oh did you now?" He didn't even bother feigning surprise.

"And Severus, I do believe he will be a genius at transfiguration, just like his father!"

"And how would you know that, Minerva? It was one class." He could not stop some ire from leaking out of his voice.

But Minerva only smiled at him smugly. "Indeed it was. But he showed a keen interest in learning advanced human transfiguration, and asked some very insightful questions in class. But most significantly – he managed to transfigure the matchstick into a perfect silver needle in seven minutes."

Severus could not help but be surprised at that. "Seven minutes?"

"Yes, and I was counting! I attribute his success to the fact that he took a unique alchemic approach to his understanding of the task. He asked questions about molecules, Severus, molecules!"

"It's not surprising that he'd have heard the word, Minerva, if he was raised with muggles."

"But Severus, he knew about quarks and particle spins!"

Again, Severus's eyes widened. He made a small huffing sound.

"Besides, I would think that the fact that he was raised with muggles wouldn't have much bearing on his knowledge -"

Ah, so he was right; the boy was raised with muggles.

"- after all, I highly doubt that Petunia Dursley put much thought into her nephew's intellectual development."

Petunia Dursley?

"Petunia...who?"

"Dursley, Severus. His Aunt."

The boy was raised by Petunia Evans?

"May I ask how that came to pass?"

Minerva shrugged helplessly. "It was Albus's idea. He said the boy needed to be with his family, away from it all. Something about wards. But I told him, they're the worst sort of muggles."

Severus had to agree.

Every time Harry Potter sat down for lunch, he had a book in his hand. This was a habit Severus had taken notice of, though it was still less than a week since the boy had arrived at Hogwarts. For the first few days it had been what he recognized as the first year Charms text, but as of a couple of days ago, that had been replaced by a massive reference book about twice the size of the boy's head. Either the boy was showing off, or was curious to the point of being obsessive. Neither possibility boded well.

There were other things he noticed, as well. The scrawny boy didn't eat much, and typically spent his meals reading rather than eating. He rarely participated in conversations unless addressed directly, but whenever he did speak, he did so with a very polite, deliberately pleasant look on his face. The boy was...closed off.

And there was the matter of Theodore Nott, who Potter had taken to following around, oddly enough. They always showed up for meals together, though they were never exchanging words when they did. For the most part, the two boys did their own thing, Potter reading and Nott chatting with Malfoy, Davis, and Greengrass more often than not. Nott would glance at Potter regularly, and Potter at him, but rarely would words pass between them. He honestly had no idea what to make of it, especially when he noticed that the few times when Potter had struck up a conversation with Nott, the other boy was startled to the point of actually seeming genuinely frightened for a few moments. Had their behaviour been different, he would have assumed that Nott was a victim of Potter's bullying, but the fact was that after the initial shock of being addressed by Potter wore off, Nott seemed quite happy to talk with him.

Very odd. Very odd indeed.

He stopped to help Professor Flitwick pick up some papers he dropped in the second floor corridor. In passing he recognized the names of his first year Slytherin students on the papers.

"Assigning the first years essays already, Filius?" he asked as he handed the papers back to the shorter man.

The half-goblin smiled wryly. "Oh no, I'm not you, Severus. I've decided to assign some shorter reports for the first few weeks; this week I asked them to find a charm in this year's curriculum and say a few words on the wand movements and the origins of the incantations. They were very well done, for the most part."

Severus nodded, pleased to hear it.

The smaller man chuckled a bit. "Mr. Potter chose occulus reparo. I think that was a hint – his spectacles seem to be in bad shape. Perhaps I'll teach them that one earlier than I originally intended."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Indulging the boy already?"

Filius smiled. "Well, he did write an exceptional report. He went so far as to research the relationship between the reparo charm and certain transfiguration spells. Very quick, that one. I would have liked to have him in my house. But then again, I would have liked to have had Lily Evans too."

Severus grimaced at that.

"He certainly reminds me a great deal of her," Professor Flitwick continued obliviously, "Such sweet boy. Very respectful and polite for a boy his age. He thanked me after our first lecture, you know? Quite enthusiastically. She did the same, I remember...had that very same look in her eye."

Yes, Severus could not help but think, that did sound like Lily.

His face was cold and stony as he scanned the dark classroom full of first year students – the bane of his existence. Gryffindors and Slytherins...why they paired those two houses together in his class, he'd never know. Every year, he stood at the front of his dark, dingy classroom, breathing in the same sweet fumes, a medley of a thousand herbs and infusions, and every year he experienced the same vivid sensations of introducing a new generation of Hogwarts students to his beloved science, tainted by the same furious swell of whirling regrets. Every year he was reminded of the same sequence of bad decisions stacked upon bad decisions in his past, the mistakes that, every year, lead him to that same place in front of a crowd of oblivious eleven year olds.

His voice was unwavering as he called role, robotic as he monotonously read the names off the list. That is, until he reached that one name that seemed to jut out of the page like an ugly scar.

"Ah, yes," he could not help himself, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."

At that instant, the boy met his eyes, an unrecognizable shadow falling over his face.

He continued to the bottom of his list, and, after a tenuous silence designed to intimidate, began as he did every year.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in little more than a whisper, but he knew they were hanging on to every word. "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 on death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Not bloody likely.

James Potter's son was still staring him with unreadable eyes, utterly fixated on him. It took everything in him not to react. What was the boy thinking? How could a child that age be so blank? It was maddening. Was he haughty or shy? Polite in an attempt to manipulate or be kind? So many questions, so few answers.

"Potter!" he called harshly. He really couldn't help himself; he needed to see how the boy would react. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

He watched, secretly amused, as the boy's eyes widened in comical shock. His amusement nearly soured when the boy's expression morphed into one of...resignation? Understanding? But the amusement returned and relief washed over him when the boy quickly returned to being puzzled.

"Um..." the boy started, looking a bit shaken up. "Asphodel, powdered, and wormwood...wormwood...worm...a...something that puts you to sleep? Some kind of sleeping potion, sir?"

He stared intently at the bespectacled boy. It had been a cheap shot - that was a NEWT level potion - but the boy, if a little ineloquent, performed well under pressure. "Indeed. Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death. Now, let's try again. Where would you look if you told you to find me a bezoar?"

"An apothecary, sir?" the boy replied confusedly.

He narrowed his eyes into a glare, and the boy smiled at him sheepishly.

"Or the stomach of a goat, if the apothecary ran out."

"And what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Clearly, the boy was gaining confidence, because he answered this time without hesitation. "They're different species from the same genus, sir."

He quirked an eyebrow. So the boy had done the reading, and had successfully risen to his challenge. But the child wasn't gloating; no, he was just looking at him.

He felt something stir inside him as the boy stared up at him hopefully, with shimmering green eyes that were so unmistakably Lily's.

"That is correct. 3 points to Slytherin."

He looked at the sheet in front of him, and then back up at Miss Rowland. "This is all...from this week?"

She grimaced a bit, but nodded curtly.

Eyes trailing down the list, he stopped at:

Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter – 5 points each

He raised an eyebrow. "The Potter brat is already causing trouble, then?"

Hortense looked surprised at the question. "No sir, it was actually Malfoy who started it. From what I've gathered, Potter lied about his name when they first met and implied that he was a...muggleborn student."

Oh? What was Potter playing at?

"Ever since the welcoming feast, Malfoy's been baiting him quite avidly. Yesterday, he tossed a hex at Potter on their way back to the Common Room, but Potter dodged and disarmed him quickly, so it could have been a lot worse...to be honest, I expected him to retaliate but..."

"...but?"

"Well, sir, he just...smiled at Malfoy, and gave his wand back to him."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. So...the Potter brat was arrogant...so arrogant that he did not see Draco Malfoy as any kind of threat. And apparently, that arrogance wasn't completely unfounded.

"Anyway, they both cast spells at each other in front of students from other houses, so I had to dock points, but given the choice, I wouldn't have taken any from Potter."

Severus nodded slowly, taking the information in.

Draco was no doubt humiliated, and there was no way Lucius had raised a humble son; while he'd no doubt bide his time, he'd surely retaliate, and probably in a more public way. The Malfoy boy wouldn't stop, of course, until he managed to get the better of Potter, but given how quick Potter's reflexes apparently were, that might take some time. Until then...

"Honestly, Potter doesn't cause trouble at all. Just the opposite, really. He apologized on Malfoy's behalf, you know? Was exceptionally graceful and polite about it."

"Is that so?"

"It is, sir. Although..."

"Yes?"

"He's...very quiet."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Well, for a boy his age he's really...withdrawn. He doesn't talk much, and when he thinks no one is looking...there's nothing. Just nothing on his face. He...sort of reminds me of Avery, in his first year, but worse."

Jordan Avery, the son of Julian Avery...a man with a violent temper and a love for for creative punishments. The former Death Eater had never outright abused his son, to the best of his knowledge, but he'd certainly terrified him quite thoroughly, and that was evident during Avery Jr.'s first year at Hogwarts. The boy had been abnormally detached and introverted...and for Miss Rowland (who had keen observational skills and impeccable instincts) to compare anyone to him...well, that was concerning.

And yet...Petunia Evans was a lot of things, but she certainly wasn't terrifying. So apparently something else was making the boy uneasy.

"Worse, you say?"

"Well sir, I wouldn't say he's any quieter than Avery was, and not quite as cautious either, it's just...he always seems fine. Too fine. Too...together for a boy his age. There's something not quite right."

So, he had a potentially psychologically troubled Potter and an angry Malfoy on his hands. Splendid.

"Keep an eye on them."

"Of course, sir."

Merlin help him. He did not want to deal with this.

"Oh, Severus!"

He turned around to find Poppy Pomfrey hurrying up to him, a worried look on her face.

"Yes, Poppy?"

"It completely slipped my mind the other day, but I had meant to tell you...young Mister Potter was in the hospital wing on Wednesday."

He frowned at her. "Did Draco Malfoy hex him?"

The woman quirked an eyebrow. "No. Is this something I have to look forward to?"

"For both our sakes, let's hope not."

She smiled a bit, but then the worried look returned to her face. "He nearly collapsed in his Defence Against the Dark Arts class."

Severus could not help the surprise that came over his face. "Collapsed? May I ask why?"

The lines on her face grew deeper. "Headache. Apparently, he was holding his forehead for most of the class. When he stumbled over after they were dismissed, Mr. Nott and Miss Davis brought him to me. He was very pale, Severus, and his eyes were bloodshot. He must have been in a great deal of discomfort. I gave him something mild for the pain, and it seemed to help, but I'm worried. Headaches that severe aren't commonplace for eleven-year-olds. And then there was the fact that..."

"Yes?"

"His scar was inflamed."

Severus nodded slowly. That was ...very concerning. "Defence against the Dark Arts?"

The woman nodded.

"I will...inform the Headmaster. In the meantime, should Mr. Potter return to you, feel free to supply him with potions for him to take more regularly."

Poppy nodded again, hesitating before speaking again. "That's not all, Severus."

His eyebrows rose.

"He's...underfed. And by the looks of it, he has been for a long time. After he collapsed, I thought it prudent to do a check up, and when he took off his shirt, I saw his ribs, Severus. He's a small boy, but he shouldn't be this small."

A frown returned to Severus's face. "Is he ill?"

"I didn't do many tests..."

That wasn't like her.

"Because I think I already have an explanation. His wrist and his arm, and a couple of his ribs...they've been broken, and didn't heal properly. It looks like they weren't set correctly. He has a couple of strange scars too, some of them clearly burn marks. I didn't think it possible, but..."

"He's a young boy, Poppy, and boys have a way of damaging themselves. As for the malnutrition...I have noticed that he makes a habit of reading during his meals, and often gets sidetracked."

"Perhaps, but there's an alternative we do need to consider."

"To the best of my knowledge, he lives with his Aunt. She's not a...pleasant person, but is far to squeamish to lay a hand on a child, I would think. It's more likely the injuries were from other children."

"...you're probably right, and he did deny that his family had had any part in it...but he did so too quickly, in my opinion, without even thinking about it, as though on reflex. There's something not right here, Severus."

"If you insist...I will take this up with the Headmaster as well."

Pursing her lips, she nodded stiffly. "Please do."

"Headmaster...you wished to see me?"

"Indeed, Severus. I do hope the term is treating you well thus far."

He tried not to grimace. "As well as ever, Headmaster."

The old man smiled, clearly amused by his answer. "I'm glad to hear it, Severus! Now, I will get to the point; I called you here to ask about Mr. Potter."

Severus sighed. "I...thought as much."

"I admit, I was nearly as surprised as you were, when our young Mr. Potter was sorted into Slytherin. Did you know, Severus, that the Potters were descendants of Godric Gryffindor himself?"

"No, but I'm not at all surprised," Severus grumbled.

The Headmaster chuckled at that. "Indeed, indeed. But see, Severus, the fact that Harry was sorted into Slytherin is just as strange as, for instance, a parselmouth being sorted into Gryffindor. Sortings tend to run in families for a reason, Severus. Many aspects of magic are hereditary, and magic deeply influences our hearts. Cases such as young Harry's, and Sirius Black's, for that matter, are rare in old families like the Blacks and the Potters."

"While this is very fascinating, Headmaster, is there a point you are trying to make?"

"There is. Harry's strange sorting implies that there have been events in the boy's life that have caused his magic and personality to mutate from what it would have been. In other words, Harry Potter seems to have a past that none of us are aware of."

Severus nodded slowly. "Nature versus nurture?"

The elderly man smiled at him. "Quite."

"On the topic of the boy's childhood, Headmaster, I am...curious. Professor McGonagall mentioned to me the other day that the boy was raised by...Petunia."

The Headmaster nodded.

"May I ask why?"

"Simply put, when Lily Potter died, her sacrifice protected Harry from Voldemort's curse, and to this day, her blood and her magic protects him. Petunia's bond with Harry through blood perpetuates Lily's spell, erecting powerful blood wards around their residence in Surrey."

"I see. And you are sure that leaving him there was...wise?"

"Lord Voldemort has been defeated, but not vanquished, Severus, and many of those loyal to him still walk free. It was necessary that the boy be protected, and his mother's sacrifice afforded him a protection that I could not. That none of us could - no wizard or witch that means him harm can enter that home, and I cannot say the same of anywhere else in the world."

"I only ask because there have been...inquiries into his well-being."

"Oh?"

"Poppy believes that he may...be being abused."

The old man frowned. "And how has she come by this belief?"

Severus hesitated. "Apparently, he is underfed, and has several poorly healed injuries."

"There could be many explanations for that, Severus."

"I am aware, and the boy did deny that his family was involved...as would most mistreated children."

"If I didn't know you better, Severus, I'd say you actually care for the boy."

"...I don't. But as his Head of House, it is my responsibility to take into consideration these facts."

The Headmaster tapped his finger on his desk a few times. "If Harry approaches you for help, help him. If proof of his family's alleged mistreatment of him arises, we will look into alternative living arrangements for him. But until such a time...it is crucial that he remain within the reach of those wards when not at Hogwarts, Severus. He must remain there until it is absolutely necessary that he leave. The wards are strong - and there may come a time when they will be his only defence."

"And they are powerful enough that you would condemn a young boy to abuse," Severus stated skeptically.

"Of course not, Severus. But as long as we have no compelling reason to believe Harry is in danger at the hands of his relatives, he will remain with them for his own safety."

Severus nodded very slowly, ignoring the unease coiling in his chest. He scowled. He wasn't worried. Of course not. Certainly not about a Potter.

"Now, Severus, I must ask, how has young Harry been fairing in Slytherin House thus far?"

Severus could not help the sour look that came over his face. "Is there anything...specific you were wondering about, Headmaster?"

"Well, from what I have heard from the other faculty members, Harry Potter is an intelligent, polite young man who is eager to learn. The picture that has been painted for me is that of a model Hogwarts student, filled with curiosity and showing promise in every aspect of magic. He has managed to impress every member of my staff. He's even managed to charm Minerva quite thoroughly, and we both know what a challenge that is."

"You sound...unconvinced."

The Headmaster smiled grimly. "Not at all. I am convinced that Harry Potter is, as they say, a polite and intelligent young man, but like all of us, Harry Potter cannot be reduced to two words. No one can."

"I must confess, the boy is...not what I expected."

"I cannot say I am surprised at that, Severus."

"Whether he is as arrogant and foolish as his father has yet to be determined, but he is neither loud nor crass, and...does not seem to have the makings of a bully."

"High praise, Severus."

He grimaced. "Apparently he actively participates in his classes, but outside of class the Slytherin prefects refer to him as withdrawn and quiet, and...from what I have seen, this is an accurate assessment. He doesn't stand out except within the realm of academics."

"And his friends?"

"...I am not sure. He seems to spend most of his time with Nott."

"Theodore Nott?"

He nodded. "They sit together in Potions and at the Slytherin table... but if I didn't know better..."

"Yes?"

If I didn't know better, I'd say Nott was afraid of him.

"Nothing, Headmaster."

"I see. And, Severus, what are your personal thoughts on Harry?"

"My...personal thoughts?"

"What do you think of his behaviour?"

"It's...not surprising, Headmaster. It's not unusual that a magical child that has been exposed only to muggles would have difficulty making friends. And if his unexplained injuries were dealt on account of bullying, it's would be strange if he was not a little reserved."

"Indeed."

"Summarily, I...think very little of his behaviour, Headmaster."

The elderly man nodded.

"He's nothing special, Albus. I don't believe there's any reason to expend energy speculating on a child's behaviour."

The Headmaster looked at him sharply. "You must keep an eye on the boy, Severus. He might be an innocent child, but he is the only one who can defeat Lord Voldemort."

"Headmaster, do you really think that...?"

"After the break in at Gringotts, Severus, I have no doubt."

"Which reminds me..."

"Yes?"

"Poppy's interactions with the Potter boy came on account of him nearly collapsing in his first Defence against the Dark Arts class. It would appear that he's been suffering from headaches – apparently, his scar was inflamed."

The elderly man's eyes widened, and he looked rather alarmed at that. "Then, Severus, you must keep a close eye on Quirinius as well."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"I don't want to be a tattle-tale, sir..."

"Out with it, Potter," he snapped.

"It was Malfoy's fault, sir. Neville Longbottom dropped his rememberall in the grass, and Malfoy, upon finding it, decided to hide it instead of return it."

"So you, in your infinite wisdom, decided to cause a scene, humiliate your fellow Slytherin, and nearly get yourself killed."

The boy had the decency to look ashamed at that, but met his eyes nonetheless. "I was under the impression that thievery would not be tolerated at Hogwarts, sir."

Severus stared at him for a long moment, and was, grudgingly, impressed by the fact that the boy did not fidget under his harsh glare.

It was at that moment that Flint chose to knock on his office door.

"Ah, Flint. Good of you to join us."

"Sir? May I ask what this is about?"

"I believe, Flint, that I have found the Slytherin House team a new seeker." He nodded toward a very gobsmacked Harry Potter. As much as he disliked the boy...his skills on a broom, from what he had seen just a few minutes ago, were impeccable. And, it just so happened that Slytherin required a new Seeker this year. As a bonus, this would be a good opportunity to gauge how big the boy's head really was.

Flint stared at the boy appraisingly. "Potter? He's a first year."

Severus smirked a bit. "I'll take care of the technicalities, Flint. Focus on whipping your new seeker into shape before the first game of the season."

Flint smirked back at him. "Of course, sir."

He spared a glance at Potter, who was still gaping at him, and felt some degree of satisfaction at finally getting the better of the boy.

Take that, James Potter. Your son would be winning points for Slytherin at the next Quidditch game.