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~1998~
“I wasn’t actually intending to take part, Headmaster,” Harry admitted, with a wry smile. “I rather thought that it might be considered cheating.”
“Nonsense, Harry,” Albus replied, waving off the concern as he refilled their teacups. “You are a student here, are you not? You’ve got just as much right to be in the tournament as any other.”
“I’ve had private training for two years,” Harry pointed out. “With you, and a whole host of talented tutors. It gives me somewhat of an advantage, no?”
Albus smiled. “Do you truly believe that you’re the only student to receive private tutoring? Harry, many of our students have summer training every single year. While you are certainly exceptional, that is your skill, and nobody can contest such a thing.”
Harry bit his lip. He couldn’t help but feel like his headmaster wanted him to be part of the tournament, though he wasn’t completely sure why that was.
“I suppose it could be fun,” he admitted, eventually. “I enjoy duelling, and it always gives me a good workout.”
Albus grinned at him before he popped a sherbet lemon in his mouth. “Excellent.”
…
“Everyone is pooing their pants about being put against you,” Ron told him, gleefully, on the morning of the first day of the duelling tournament.
Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes, while Harry chuckled softly.
“I think that the majority of the school should be worried about going against anyone in the DA,” he pointed out.
The once secret club had become a real extracurricular club since Harry had defeated Voldemort; and while a few more people had joined, Harry hadn’t wanted to accept too many people into the club. There was only so much of him to go around, after all.
Ron smiled, pleased, and nodded his head. “You’re right. Some of the seventh year Ravenclaws and Slytherins seem quite confident, though. The betting pool has a list of people who are suspected to have had extra training, you know?”
Harry didn’t know, but then, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the betting pool. He’d been told he was a popular contender for the winning spot, of course, but that was no real surprise.
Despite the rest of the school having little idea of the training Harry had actually had, his success against the Dark Lord certainly spoke volumes about his power.
There were some, though, who believed that power didn’t necessarily equate to skill. Those people were correct.
Harry just happened to have both; the natural power, and the hard earned skill.
He was quietly confident in his ability to win, and was actually really looking forward to it. It would be nice to earn something on his own, something that didn’t have anything to do with wars, or prophecies.
“We should go and get seats,” Hermione said, as a few students started trailing from the Great Hall. “The younger years are starting today to see who goes through into the main draw.”
…
Harry watched two Ravenclaw third years duelling on one stage, while keeping an eye on a Gryffindor fourth year battle against a Slytherin fifth year on the second stage.
The third years were surprising to him; he hadn’t expected them to be quite so adept, and he was impressed.
“Might want to recommend a second DA session for the younger years, hmm?” Hermione asked, with a small smile, taking the thought right from his mind.
“Might be worth it,” Harry agreed, nodding his head. “I’ll speak to Professor Flitwick about it when I can. There have been a few with natural duelling talent that I wouldn’t have expected.”
The Gryffindor and Slytherin match ended with a stunning spell, the Slytherin victorious by a narrow margin.
By the end of the day, there were seven fifth years, five fourth years, and a particularly impressive Ravenclaw third year going through to the following day, where the older student’s names would be added into the draw.
Harry caught sight of Professor Flitwick on his way to dinner and caught up with the diminutive teacher to recommend a second weekly meeting for the younger members of the school to join the DA when the school returned after the summer.
Flitwick would be taking over the club when Harry left for University, and while Harry was sad to see it move into someone else’s hands, it would be nice to know that he’d left behind a good legacy, along with the chaos that had been his school years.
“What brought this on?” Flitwick asked, as they lingered by the top table of the Great Hall.
“I was impressed by some of them today,” Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I think that with some individual attention, some of them could be amazing duelists.”
“Oh? Well, I have no problem supervising a second session, Harry. I’ll make sure that sign up sheets go out with the school letters over the summer. Of course, I’m expecting you to come back and make an appearance when your classes break for the summer. Merlin finishes up a few weeks before we do, you know?”
Harry grinned. “Thank you, Sir, I’d be delighted to come back for a visit. I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal.”
“No problem, Harry. Oh, and good luck for tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you in action.”
…
Harry winced when an overpowered stinging charm caught Ron in the ribs, but he was proud of his best friend when he soldiered on regardless. Harry supposed that they were all used to seeing through the pain after the many battles they’d been forced to fight, and the daunting situations they’d had to escape from.
“He’s doing well,” Hermione said, her eyes never leaving the stage.
Now that they were down to the more experienced duellers, there was only one stage, and one duel happening at a time.
While Dumbledore had imposed a twenty minute time limit on the duels, not a single one had been a tie yet.
Harry saw three different times where Ron could have got the advantage over his opponent—this time it was Terry Boot—before Ron finally managed a chain spell that left him tired but victorious.
He handed back the wand he’d liberated, and bowed formally before he stepped off the stage to join Harry and Hermione.
Harry had already won his own first and second duels easily, and Hermione had won her first. Ron had just finished his second, and the numbers of remaining competitors were dwindling pretty quickly.
They watched a few more match-ups before Hermione was called for her second. She got a lucky shot in the first minute and won easily, leaving Pansy Parkinson to stomp off the stage with a ridiculous pout on her face.
Harry rolled his eyes. Sore loser.
“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore called, for the first match of the third round. “And Draco Malfoy.”
There was an intake of breath around the room, and Harry chuckled at the dramatics. Harry walked calmly onto the stage, nodding his head to Malfoy before they each did the traditional bows to the Headmaster, and then each other.
Harry didn’t bother with a fancy duelling stance. He waited, his head tilted to the left, for Draco to begin. There was a moment’s pause, and then the blond shot his opening spell; Diffindo.
Harry sidestepped it with ease and cast a slowing charm on Draco’s feet, linking it flawlessly into a freezing charm and then a Confundus.
Draco managed to shake off the confundus, but it took him a little longer to unfreeze his feet, giving Harry the opportunity to layer protective charms around himself before he once more went on the offensive.
When Draco had freed himself, Harry was glad for the time; Draco was better than any of his opponents so far.
They fought, quite evenly matched, for seventeen minutes. Harry could see Draco was tiring, and he used it to his advantage, sending a volley of stunning spells in an arch, forcing him to dodge and bend. He followed the volley up quickly with a glacius hex, and then finally, the disarming spell.
Draco’s wand sailed into Harry’s waiting hand, and he quickly released the spells on Draco.
They bowed again, before Harry offered back Draco’s wand.
“Well fought, Potter,” Draco said, his lips tilting up. “If you don’t win, I’ll be annoyed. I suppose losing to the winner is better than losing to a runner up.”
Harry snorted and then grinned at Draco. “That was fun.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Fun, he says. I don’t know what to do with you sometimes, Potter.”
They stepped down from the stage to cheers and went their separate ways, Harry rejoining Ron and Hermione, accepting the bottle of water Hermione offered him.
“That was awesome,” Ron said, grinning widely. “The two of you looked like you’d choreographed the whole thing.”
“It was good fun,” Harry agreed. “He’d be a good training partner.”
Harry enjoyed the rest between his battle with Draco and his next fight, which was against a sixth year, and relatively easy to win.
There were only a handful of people left, and Harry watched as, one by one, they dropped until only four remained.
Himself, Blaise Zabini, Padma Patil, and Daphne Greengrass.
Blaise and Padma were the first to duel, Blaise coming out on top with an impressive trick that left Padma confused as to what had even happened.
Daphne was a tough opponent, and she almost caught Harry out a few times. When he won, she, like Draco before her, congratulated Harry on a well fought fuel.
It was nice, Harry considered, as he sipped his water, to be on speaking terms with some of the Slytherins. Of course, not all of them were quite so pleasant, but many of them were as happy as any other houses students that Voldemort was no longer terrorising the Wizarding World in his quest for domination.
A fifteen minute break was allowed between Harry’s duel with Daphne, and the final one against Blaise, and Harry used it wisely, healing up his few injuries and drinking water as he mildly meditated, grounding himself and his magic.
When he was called up onto the stage, he met Blaise's eyes, and grinned. Win or lose, this was going to be fun.
…
“A nice way to end your Hogwarts career, no?” Dumbledore asked, pouring tea for the two of them.
Harry chuckled. “It’s certainly a better way to end the year than most of my end of years have been, Sir.”
“I had no doubt that you would triumph, Harry.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Blaise certainly put up a fight.”
“He did, at that,” Dumbledore agreed. “Filius tells me that you’ve suggested extending the DA to the younger years?”
Harry nodded. “Some of them were really impressive, Sir. Far better than I’d been at their ages.”
“He also tells me that you’ve agreed to return at the end of the school year?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Excellent. Perhaps you’ll agree to a showcase of duelling before the next tournament? We’ve decided, since it was such fun, that we’re going to make it a yearly event to end the school year on a high.”
Harry chuckled. “Of course, Sir. Though, I do hope that you aren’t asking me to face you? You’d surely wipe the floor with me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, my boy,” Dumbledore replied, with a soft laugh. “But no, I haven’t put much thought into your opponent. Perhaps young Mr Malfoy will agree. The two of you could practice at Merlin, given you’re taking many of the same courses.”
Harry nodded. “That would be good. I’ll ask him if he wants to do it, Sir?”
Dumbledore nodded, and then stroked a hand down his beard, his smile softening as his eyes twinkled. “I’m proud of you, Harry, I do hope you know that. You’ve always been an exceptional person, but you’ve gone above and beyond any expectations I could have had for you.”
Unsure what to say to such an unabashed display of pride, Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I… Thank you. I couldn’t have done any of it without you to guide me, Sir.”
…
The graduation ceremony was reminiscent of the Muggle world without the traditional garb. Harry and Ron watched—and clapped and hollered—as Hermione received her graduation scroll from Dumbledore, and then shook the hands of the four Heads of House.
Even Professor Snape’s lips tilted with an approving smile as she walked away.
Harry’s own scroll came with a louder cheer than most, and Dumbledore threw all propriety out of the window, tugging Harry into a tight hug.
Professor McGonagall followed his lead, though the other three Heads of House shook his hand as they had the students that had preceded him.
“Congratulations, Potter,” Snape said, nodding his head as their hands parted. “It’s been… interesting.”
Harry chuckled and then smiled at his once most hated Professor, and then walked down the steps of the podium to rejoin his classmates.
He couldn’t believe he’d made it; he’d graduated Hogwarts.
He was alive, he had his whole life in front of him, and he was… he was free.
It was more than he’d ever truly expected for himself; he still found it somewhat surreal that he’d even lived to see his graduation.
Whatever came next, Harry was ready for it.
…
~1999~
Harry and Draco ran through the duel they’d practiced for months and Dumbledore called for them to finish when they were still firing spells after forty minutes had passed.
They bowed to him, and then each other, before Draco nudged Harry’s shoulder and the two of them stepped down from the stage, jostling each other and laughing.
“That was staged,” Snape accused them, when they joined the teachers at the head table, where they would be seated to watch the competition.
Harry nodded. “It was. The Headmaster asked us to showcase what a professional duel can look like.”
“There were four intervals you could have taken his wand, Potter,” Snape added. “And one in which he could have taken yours.”
“Actually, there were five times I could have taken his wand,” Harry pointed out, grinning. “He fumbled his freezing spell about ten minutes in.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Staged or not, Merlin has certainly taught you a thing or two; both of you.”
“Well, I suppose that’s what you’d expect from higher education,” Harry pointed out, softening his words with a small smile. “How’ve you been, Sir? How is Hogwarts without us?”
“Peaceful,” Snape said, immediately. “Hogwarts is imminently less chaotic now that you and your merry band of troublemakers have left.”
“Funny, you don’t seem completely happy with that, Sir. Could it be that you miss our particular brand of chaos?”
Snape snorted. “It could be, at that.”
…
~2002~
Harry left the Hospital wing, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he did. Dumbledore immediately wrapped his arms around the younger man, squeezing him for a moment.
The corridor outside of the WIng was filled with people who’d come to share their final words with the motherly matron who’d looked after so many of them over the years.
“Thank you for coming, Harry. I’m sure that it meant a lot to Poppy.”
Harry smiled, even as his eyes filled with tears again. “She just wanted another chance to shout at me,” he replied. “She told me off for not eating enough.”
“Quite so,” Dumbledore replied, nodding his head. “I… I don’t believe that she had long left with us, Harry. You’ll stay for the funeral?”
“I have my final exams, but I’ll come back,” Harry promised. “Just let me know when it is, and I’ll make sure I’m here. I think Hermione and Ron will want to come too. She certainly looked after us all enough over the years we were here.”
“Of course, Harry. How are you feeling about your exams? Confident?”
“As I can be,” Harry said, leaning back against the wall. He glanced at Snape, who was sitting by the door, his head in his hands. “Is he okay?”
Dumbledore followed his gaze and sighed. “Severus was very close to Poppy. She took him under her personal care; not unlike the way she did with you. She had a way of picking out those who needed her the most, didn’t she?”
Harry nodded. “I guess she did. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Hogwarts won’t feel the same when she’s gone.”
“No,” Dumbledore agreed, sadly. “She’s left her mark on these walls though; none here will ever forget her.”
…
Hermione squeezed his hand, and Harry smiled sadly at her, squeezing back. The funeral was over, and Harry—though he’d never admit it outloud—was waiting for people to begin leaving so that he too could escape the crowd without seeming rude.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to pay his respects to Madam Pomfrey, he just… really didn’t like funerals.
People dressed all in black, mourning the loss instead of celebrating the life of the woman they were all there for; it just didn’t seem right to him.
Hermione was pulled away, dragged into conversation with several Ministry workers about her first job, which would start in the autumn months. It was a continuation of the internship that she’d already been working on for a year, and she was excited to finally be the one calling the shots.
Harry was happy for her.
He would be following Ron into the Auror Corps; his best friend had joined immediately from Hogwarts, while Harry had chosen to take some time out for University. While Ron had already passed the Academy training and was a fully fledged Auror, Harry would be heading into a slightly specialised training to be a member of the HIT squad.
Ron was very pleased that the day was finally on the horizon.
Harry leant against a tree and surveyed the surroundings. He was glad Poppy had been laid to rest close to the school; she’d given the castle enough of her life to have earned her place, after all.
“Potter.”
Harry turned his head to see Snape beside him, as imposing as ever even with the sadness so very apparent in his gaze.
“Professor,” Harry greeted, solemnly.
“I heard that you’d been accepted to the Auror Academy; or, should I say, that you finally accepted their plea?”
Harry chuckled quietly. “I suppose either of those would be truthful. I couldn’t stay at University forever.”
“No, I don’t suppose you could. Congratulations on passing with distinction, Potter. Quite an impressive feat.”
“How do you—ah. Dumbledore?”
Snape inclined his head. “Of course. We’re often regaled with tales of your success; he’s rather like a proud grandfather, where you’re concerned.”
Whether by accident or design, the words made something in Harry swell with emotion, and he glanced over at the Headmaster.
“I suppose, in some ways, I would consider him as such. He’s always been there to guide me when I’ve needed it, after all, and I imagine that’s what grandparents do.”
“Quite.”
Harry bit his lip, and then said, “I’m a little surprised that you’re still teaching, Sir. No disrespect, of course, but I considered, with the end of the war, that you’d run far away from the students, cackling gleefully the whole way.”
Snape snorted, probably at the mental picture, and shook his head. “Despite my… apathy for the students, Hogwarts is my home. I cannot imagine ever leaving. Besides, can you imagine the guilt trip that Albus would lay on me if I were to attempt to put in my resignation? It’s hardly worth it.”
“You raise a fair point,” Harry agreed.
“You should visit more often, Potter, now that you’re done with your schooling. Albus should like to see you more often, and… well. This is proof that time is fleeting, and there’s never as much as you hope for.”
Harry bit his lip and nodded. “You’re right. I will.”
“Good.”
…
~2009~
“I’m surprised he wore you down so quickly,” Snape said, when he found Harry in the staff room, waiting for the meeting to start. “I thought you had at least another two years in you.”
Harry laughed, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “I thought I did too. I’m tired of fighting, though, and it’ll be nice too—”
“If you’re about to say ‘relax’, I cannot wait to see you disabused of the notion, Potter. The students do not allow for relaxation.”
“I cannot believe that they’d be more challenging than dealing with the HIT squad, Sir. They are perpetual children with the added ability of being absolutely fierce with their wands. It’s not a good mixture.”
Snape snorted. “You can cease and desist calling me Sir, Potter. We’re colleagues now.”
“Oh. Uh. Thank you. You should call me Harry.”
Snape nodded his head in acknowledgement, folding himself into the seat beside Harry as the other teachers began filing into the staff room.
Harry watched on with interest. As a new professor, he knew that he had a lot to learn, but he was looking forward to it.
Dumbledore winked at him when he arrived in the room, and Harry grinned. While he saw his old Headmaster at least once a month, it would be nice to be back in the castle.
Though, he really must convince the old man to stop offering him lemon drops.
They were downright offensive.
…
~2011~
Harry fell onto his sofa, face first, groaning softly. The last week had been hell, the students were beyond excited for the upcoming Yule Ball, and trying to get them to focus on anything beyond dress robes and dates had been nigh on impossible.
In the end, he’d been forced to start threatening detentions for the weekend, when the rest of the school would be enjoying Hogsmeade and the last chance to buy any last minute gifts or accessories for the Ball.
“You didn’t even close the door,” a voice sounded above him, followed by a soft chuckle.
“Maybe I’m hoping that someone will come and finish me off if I leave the path free of resistance for them,” Harry replied.
A hand rubbed at his shoulder and he groaned again, this time in relief, as the knots were worked free by skilled hands.
“If you ever decided to stop being a Potions Master, you should definitely take up massage full time,” Harry murmured.
Another soft chuckle, and Harry let himself melt into the sofa.
When he opened his eyes—when he’d shut them, he had no idea—it was to find Severus had made himself comfortable in the sole armchair in Harry’s sitting room, a book open on his lap.
“What are you reading?”
“The duelling customs book that Draco sent you last week,” Severus said, lifting the cover so that Harry could see it. “It’s quite interesting. Albus told me that you’ve convinced him to come and duel with you again before the tournament this year?”
Harry nodded, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I have. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to stretch my duelling muscles, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Are you planning to stage it again?”
Shaking his head, Harry grinned. “Not this time. Draco has had more practice than me over the last few years. I want to see how I hold up against him. It’ll be fun.”
Severus smirked. “I look forward to seeing you wipe the floor with him.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t put money on it, Severus. I’d hate to be the reason you lost the galleons that keep you in whiskey for the end of term.”
Severus snorted. “The money is already down, so don’t lose, Harry. Otherwise, I’ll be stealing your own stash.”
“Hmm. Motivation to win, if ever I’ve heard it.”
…
~2012~
“Petrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus,” Harry muttered, dodging the oncoming spell.
He was tiring, but he grinned as Draco tripped and looped his wand into the movement for a stunning spell volley, his smile widening when one hit its mark and Draco dropped to the floor.
He liberated his friend of his wand, and then woke him up, helping him to his feet.
“You’ve still got it, Harry,” Draco said, when Harry handed him back his wand.
Harry grinned at him as the two of them did the customary bows.
When they were off the stage, Harry winked at Dumbledore and then pushed Draco towards the High Table. “The seat beside mine is yours,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you want to change, you can use my rooms when I come back.”
Draco nodded, and the two of them parted, Draco for his seat, and Harry from the Hall. As much as he loved his duelling robes, the thought of sitting in them for the whole day wasn’t attractive, so he planned to shower and change before rejoining the other Professors to observe the tournament.
The portrait to his quarters swung open, and Harry, concentrating on the buttons of his robes, didn’t realise that he wasn’t alone. He was pushed up against the wall, and only the familiarity of the magic of his ‘captor’ stopped him from putting up a fight.
“You were magnificent,” Severus growled in his ear, licking up the line of his jaw before he bit Harry’s ear lobe.
“Severus,” Harry moaned, arching up against the Potion’s Master. “What—”
“If I’m off base, Harry, tell me,” Severus said, in his ear. “Tell me that you don’t want me the way I want you, and I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”
“You’re not wrong,” Harry replied. “You know you’re not wrong.”
“Good,” Severus said, before he claimed Harry’s mouth with his own.
The kiss was hot and hard and passionate, but there was an undercurrent of affection too, one that Harry chased, until Severus gentled just a little.
“We have to get back to the Hall,” he murmured, nipping at Severus’ bottom lip when they parted for sharp intakes of oxygen. “We’ll continue this later?”
Severus smiled down at him and nodded. “Indeed we will, and into the future, I hope?”
Harry stole a last, chaste, kiss. “Definitely.”
…
~2014~
“It’s my most profound pleasure,” Dumbledore announced, smiling so widely that Harry wondered if his face hurt. “To present to you, Harry and Severus Snape-Potter!”
Harry and Severus walked into the wedding party hand in hand, their rings glinting in the light as their friends and family cheered for their happiness.
It had been a long road to happiness, but Harry was quite sure that he’d finally landed on the path that he’d been aiming at the whole time, however unknowingly.
And it was good.