Chapter Text
First Year
Before Christmas
“Harry says he wants to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas,” Severina glanced up from the letter to where Aunt Lucilla was cutting into her breakfast eggs.
“He is excited to be at Hogwarts at last? Are his friends are staying there?”
“Yes, the Weasley boy will be staying over Christmas also. No doubt Harry’ll want to spend summer with the redhead pack.”
“There is no harm in it. I know you miss him, but he is getting along very well.”
“Miss the brat!” She snorted fondly, “I’m finally getting my brewing done in peace.”
Lucilla raised a single eyebrow and took a wordless sip of her coffee.
Severina bent her head over her newspaper again to avoid smiling. “Master Augello will expect us for Christmas dinner. I’ll look forward to your being Befana again.”
---
In the Hospital Wing
“Miss Snape, you have heard the news of Voldemort?”
Severina shook the floo power residue from her hair impatiently as she stepped out of the Headmaster’s fireplace. “Yes, of course Professor! But my first priority is to see Harry. How is he?”
“He is doing as well as can be expected, given the circumstances. I will accompany you to the Hospital Wing right away.”
Following Dumbledore through the corridors of Hogwarts made her uneasy. She hadn’t been back here since she left for good—twenty years ago. But it was as though no time at all had passed. The walls, the portraits—everything was exactly as it once was. Even the faces of the students as they passed seemed familiar. It was disorientating in the oddest way.
When they arrived at the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey immediately warned them to be quiet, with a meaningful glance at Harry, and the figure slumped in the chair next to him.
“Black?”
“Professor Black has been here since yesterday morning.” Madam Pomfrey looked disapproving, as she whispered, “He’s only just fallen asleep.”
Dumbledore turned and raised his eyebrows at Severina’s fixed scowl, as though to say: he is Harry’s Godfather, after all.
In truth, she was just angry that he was here first, despite the fact that she is Harry’s guardian. It is she who should be slumped in that chair. Logically, of course, she understood that it is Black who is the potions professor (a fact that continues to irritate her) and Black who lives in the same castle as Harry. But it galled her nonetheless. Even more so because Black looked almost ill, dark shadows under his eyes, his hair uncharacteristically unkempt.
Harry, however, looked better than she expected. His breathing is even and regular. And already the healing potions have worked, and the bruises on his face have faded to a pale yellow. She smoothed a hand over Harry’s forehead fondly. She cannot help but notice that where once the scar was faded, it now stood out darkly against Harry’s pale skin. Gathering her focus, Severina chanted a spell of protection and good dreams over Harry.
“I’ll stay with Harry if you don’t mind, Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey.”
“Of course, Miss Snape. I do hope you will join me and some of the other teachers for supper this evening. I’m sure many of us would love to hear about your research. It is truly ground-breaking.”
“I’d be happy to.” She was sure Dumbledore did not merely want to talk to her about her research, but she was intrigued. With that, Dumbledore swept out, leaving her to occupy a seat by Harry’s bed.
She was halfway through the latest issue of Advances in Spellmaking when Black’s voice intruded upon her concentration.
“Snape.”
She felt herself bristling immediately at his tone. She made her voice as cold and disdainful as possible. “Black.”
He flinched. “Look, we’re okay, aren’t we?”
“What do you mean by ‘okay’ Black? I’m afraid I don’t speak your particular brand of ineloquence.” She saw Black far more often than she would like—his being Harry’s Godfather and all. But they hadn’t had an argument the last time, as far as she was aware.
“I should’ve kept a better eye on Harry. He could’ve been seriously injured—or killed—if the Dark Lord had his way! I can’t believe how stupid I was, thinking—”
“As much as I hate to say this—you cannot be held responsible.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear any more, Black. Save your pathetic self-flagellation for when you deserve it.”
“I—I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to Sirius…”
“Harry! You’re awake!”
“I had to stop you two being at one another’s throats.” He smiled weakly, “How long have I been here? Where’s Ron and Hermione? Quirrell! The Stone! Quick—”
“You don’t need to worry about the Stone or Quirrell anymore, Harry. Dumbledore has dealt with him. The Stone is safe too. The Headmaster will tell you himself, Harry.”
Harry nodded slowly.
“Ron and Hermione are fine, Harry. They’re probably in Gryffindor Tower right now. Madam Pomfrey insisted that you be allowed to rest for now.” Sirius smiled and it was as though his tiredness fell away.
“How are you feeling, Harry?”
“I’m fine. My head hurts a little.” Harry rolled his shoulders gingerly, “I feel sore all over.”
“I’ll get Madam Pomfrey,” Sirius said, striding towards the matron’s office, leaving Severina with Harry.
“Your mother would never forgive me if she knew what I’d let happen!”
“I know you must have been worried…”
“Why didn’t you tell me what was happening? You could’ve written to me.”
“I think…I have a funny feeling that…this is the way that it was supposed to happen.” Harry’s lashes cast soft grey shadows over his cheeks. There was a weariness in his voice that spoke of the horrors he’d been witness to during his short life.
“I will have a long discussion with the Headmaster. And then, I think, Harry, it is perhaps time that we moved back to England.”
But Sirius and Madam Pomfrey had returned, followed eagerly by the red-haired Weasley boy and bushy-haired Granger.
“Harry!”
Severina retreated to give the three friends some privacy, her mind still ringing with Harry’s words: this is the way it was supposed to happen.