Chapter Text
The boy was his reckoning. That much Severus Snape knew with the certainty of a man resigned to the cruelty of fate. Ten years he’d spent with the boy’s name whispered just out of earshot, murmurs of a legend yet given form, simply a name and a history, not granted flesh and blood. For ten years, he endured his penance, or so he believed. His teaching position at Hogwarts both protected him from the consequences of his poorly made choices and punished him for them. Suffering the incompetence of whinging brats while attempting to teach the dunderheads how to respect the art of Potion-making was a clever torture. Little did he know that his suffering would only get worse.
His past returned to torment him, but Severus had paid for his crimes. Had he not suffered enough? He had to live with the guilt of Lily Evans' death. Must he also suffer the indignity of teaching the undeserving offspring she had with James Potter? Duty bound him to serve as a protector for the boy, but he knew that any role in the boy’s life would be his reckoning. The child represented too much of the past Severus could not leave behind.
As with each Sorting Feast that preceded it, the Great Hall was filled with the excited yet inane chattering of the students that had gathered at their House tables. The wait usually wasn’t as arduous. For the select few who knew that the Sorting ceremony would be more memorable than most, apprehension entered their conversations. All of which took place at the top table where Severus and the rest of the Hogwarts staff sat well positioned to watch the student body like hawks. Having the stammering Quirrell on one side left Severus without much talk to deal with, yet too many times that evening already, Albus Dumbledore leaned forwards from his seat in the centre to engage in conversation. The knowing twinkle in his eyes made Severus inwardly seethe.
Hagrid breezed in with his usual lack of subtlety, his late appearance the signal that the first years had arrived without much incident. Like clockwork, Minerva McGonagall threw the doors of the hall open to lead in the new students trailing behind her in their new robes. Severus found himself searching the throng for the boy. It wasn’t hard to identify him amongst the other children.
Why did Harry Potter have to look so much like his father?
The Sorting Hat performed its usual introduction to the school for the first years’ benefit, likely a reused song from one of the many renditions over the centuries. Polite applause followed. Most students sunk into dazed boredom as the Sorting ceremony began. Their empty stomachs took over most of their interest. As Minerva went through the list, Severus did notice that the year’s intake was low, in fact the lowest he had seen. Grimly, he understood why. They would have all been born when the war was at its peak during a time where few families were willing to bring an innocent child into a dangerous world. Fortunately for many, the Potters had no reservations against starting their family despite the war. Their family paid the price.
Except for their son, who stood nervously with the others his age. Severus didn’t wish to give the child any more interest than he deserved, but his attention drew back. The boy fidgeted nervously, not appearing feverish with excitement like his peers. Like his father, he wore glasses and appeared to be the only one in his year group who needed them. He had inherited his father’s unruly black hair as well.
“Potter, Harry.”
As expected, his name drummed up instant interest from the students. They stirred from their stupors, some even standing to get a better look. The subject of their interest visibly paled as he made his way to the stool, looking, if not for a better word, terrified.
Next to him, Severus caught Quirrell stiffening in his seat. He glanced over, a little surprised to see the man’s usually placid demeanour suddenly turned hostile as he openly glared at the Boy Who Lived as he perched on the stool before the school. Quirrell soon schooled his expression, but it was a little too late. He didn’t share the same history as Severus, didn’t have the same grudge, so he could only guess what had been the cause for such open animosity. Severus inwardly sighed. Who had Dumbledore hired this time?
Once the Sorting Hat settled on Potter’s head, the mutters around the Great Hall rose in volume. Severus expected Dumbledore to order the students to settle down, but he didn’t. Instead, the Headmaster surveyed Potter with close interest, interlacing his fingers together as he stared intently at the back of the boy’s head. Most amongst the staff expected the Hat to immediately declare the boy as a Gryffindor, same as his parents. Yet, seconds stretched on. The boy fidgeted on the stool, no doubt listening to the hat as it deliberated on where to sort him.
“Slytherin!”
Silence.
It had to be a trick. One last joke made at Severus’s expense from beyond the grave. He waited for the Sorting Hat to then announce that it had been a hilarious mistake and that Harry Potter surely couldn’t be a Slytherin. No such announcement came. An ashen Minerva McGonagall swiped the hat off Potter’s head and muttered instructions into his ear for him to follow. Silence still prevailed in the Great Hall as Potter made his self-conscious way to the Slytherin table. The sight of him heading in their direction made them thaw out first. The Slytherins cheered the loudest they had for a long time, their shouts and jeers shattering the awkward silence.
Some of the older Slytherins were quick to beckon Potter over and have him sit with them. Already, divisions were splitting down the table as none could quite figure out what to make of their latest Slytherin.
Nothing else of interest happened for the rest of the sorting. Everyone was still reeling from the Sorting Hat’s decision. Severus peered over in Dumbledore’s direction, finding a thoughtful frown upon the old man’s face. So he was just as surprised. He soon smiled when the sorting was over, happily giving the order for the school to tuck in. Food filled the tables, the arrival much needed to ease the tension in the hall.
“P-perhaps some of the r-rumours are true about the b-boy,” Quirrell managed to stammer out. Severus sniffed derisively in response, not wanting to entertain such rumours. He had heard them, too many times in fact, from his former associates.
“Those rumours are preposterous,” Severus said firmly, putting an end to the conversation.
The last thing he wanted to talk about was Harry Potter. His anger prickled too close to the surface, in need of a target. Minerva settled in the empty seat on his other side and immediately went to speak undertone to Dumbledore. Severus smirked to himself. Potter’s re-introduction had not gone to plan, it appeared.
Dumbledore had already made suspect choices for the start of the year, deciding to conceal the Philosopher’s Stone in the school under a layer of security devised by each of them in turn. Severus could see right through the old man at once. If Dumbledore wanted to hide the Philosopher’s Stone completely, placing it in Hogwarts was the last place he would consider. Therefore, stone was bait, a means to lure out the Dark Lord from where he was lurking in wait. No doubt, it also served double purposes. The levels of security seemed to Severus too much like individual tests. He could not shake his suspicions, not when the timing was too coincidental with Potter starting his education the same year that Dumbledore decided to put the school populace in unnecessary danger. Not that the old man was bothered, not when he had his tamed Death Eater at his side, sworn to protect Potter from harm.
Severus lifted his gaze from his roast beef, checking on the Slytherins as was his duty as their Head of House. Ignoring Potter for the moment, he went to observe the other first years. Lucius Malfoy’s son looked just as well-groomed as he expected him to be, appearing very satisfied between the sons of Crabbe and Goyle. He already acquired his muscle to do the dirty work for him, likely following his father’s laid out plans for him to establish a strong position in the House early on. Politics were far more prevalent in Slytherin House than any of the others.
Minerva next to him interrupted his ruminations. Reaching over to grasp the jug of wine in front of him, she used the action to mask her low mutter.
“We will need to keep a close eye on Potter, Severus,” Minerva said quietly as she went to fill his goblet up first before filling her own. He eyed her closely, knowing all too well that when she chose to speak conspiratorially, he should listen. Minerva McGonagall was not a witch to cross, even when he was a professor himself and no longer her student.
“Because he has defied expectations?” He asked carefully, taking his goblet. Her eyes flashed dangerously, meeting his levelled look head on.
“Do not assume that I am less invested in his wellbeing because he is not in my House.”
Involuntarily, Severus swallowed.
“That was not my meaning. I can handle any friction amongst the Slytherins, but I strongly suspect that some among your house will see Potter being a Slytherin as some sort of betrayal. My students have to put up with prejudice enough as it is.”
Her nostrils flared warningly as she, too, picked up her goblet and sipped. Severus tensed. She was upset, just as upset as he was, but not for the same reasons. He couldn’t figure out what had gotten under her skin as she was not one to be as petty as to take losing Potter to Gryffindor to heart.
“Yes, Potter will have to deal with that on top of everything else, but that is not my primary concern. He was raised by muggles, Severus, and unless I am mistaken, they did not raise him in a… healthy environment. I do not have any evidence to back this, other than what I saw before Albus left him with his aunt. They did not come across as a family who could provide the right support for a magical child, much less one with Potter’s… past.”
She barely moved her lips as she spoke, clearly not wishing for Dumbledore to overhear her express her concerns. Severus glanced past her disbelievingly at Dumbledore. He didn’t need to be told that Petunia Evans was ill-suited as a guardian. She’d been a terrible sister, no doubt she would be a terrible aunt as well.
Dread then began to weigh on him. If Potter had been left so unsupported and unprepared, did that mean that it was down to him to act as a guardian? Wasn’t it enough that he had to protect the brat? He couldn’t suffer acting as a mentor. It would be hard enough to keep Potter from danger as it was.
No, he had to make sure that Potter knew from the start that he was not available for counsel. Severus did not care if the boy struggled to adapt. He never received any extra help when he started at Hogwarts. None of the professors cared when he endured relentless bullying from the first year. None cared when he nearly died after being tricked into coming face-to-face with a werewolf. None even looked his way when he lost his only friend in Lily, pushing him towards the path of darkness.
If Dumbledore expected Potter to rise to the challenge on his own, then Severus would do the same. He would offer the spawn of James Potter no aid, no special treatment, nothing at all to show any favour. The boy would have to struggle and make do on his own. He would treat the boy no differently to any other.
No exceptions.
As with most things in Severus’s life, his staunch rule did not last for very long.
The first exception occurred just two days after the sorting. Severus may have harboured bitterness around his teaching position and forced proximity around whinging children, but he did hold onto some pride around being the Head of Slytherin House. He took his role seriously, ensuring the new Slytherins each had their timetables and knew where to go. Even Potter. When he forced himself to make a first interaction, resigned to it, it wasn’t even Potter who summoned him over at the table. A student called out to him out after he made his rounds at the table for the morning, checking that no one was missing. Severus scowled his displeasure at being called over yet still, he approached, seeing that it was Theodore Nott. Another son of a former associate.
“Professor, can you fix Harry’s glasses?”
Harry squawked in protest, flapping his hands up while Nott managed to pluck his glasses straight off from his nose and thrust them towards Severus.
“Theodore! What are you doing?”
For the first thing Severus heard uttered from Potter’s mouth, it wasn’t very impressive, not pitched up with indignance.
“I’m doing you a favour!” Nott argued, then looked at Severus insistently.
“It’s not a big deal,” Potter obstinately said back, giving up trying to get his glasses back. He half-squinted, half-scowled, looking anywhere other than Severus. His face was flushing, catching Severus’s interest. The brat was embarrassed.
Severus sniffed, taking the pilfered glasses from Nott. He blinked, astonished to find that the glasses which had, at a distance, looked so similar to the pair that James Potter wore were in terrible shape. The middle of the plastic frames were barely holding together under liberally applied sellotape. The repair was so primitively muggle, it was no wonder Nott had called attention to it. The lenses were also scratched and one arm was bent. That they were even serviceable was a miracle.
Before he could question further, Severus quickly tapped the glasses with his wand and repaired them.
“There, Nott. And please advise Potter to look after his belongings with more care in the future.”
He passed the glasses back to Nott and swept away before he ended up looking at the brat. Nothing stopped him from hearing Potter and Nott expressing their amazement over the repaired glasses at his back.
“Wow! Look! They’re like new!”
The second exception derailed his plan for how Severus intended to handle the brat. As much as he wished he could vent his spleen at the boy, such obvious dislike carried no real basis other than for who the boy’s father was. His only option was to therefore just ignore the boy. It should be easy enough as first year classes were notoriously chaotic so he’d be very easy to dismiss amid the destruction of cauldrons and potion ingredients. As expected, the first lesson he had with Potter in the class, a hapless Gryffindor of the name of Neville Longbottom managed to melt his cauldron. Most of the new students gawped, their heads empty. A Ravenclaw girl managed to answer his questions at the start of the class which surprised even him (though he didn’t show it). All the while, Potter stayed quiet, kept his head down and just… did his work.
His good behaviour just made Severus more suspicious. His class wasn’t the only one. Chatter in the Staff Room soon centred on gossip about their famous new student with Flitwick and McGonagall layering praise on how well Potter did in their lessons, though after one meeting, he heard reference about bickering between Potter and Malfoy during the first flying lesson. It wasn’t news to him as Draco Malfoy appeared to be as liberal with his insults as his father was and he was not taking well to being upstaged in class. Between being their professor and Head of House, Severus could not ignore what was going on under his nose. A rivalry between two strong characters, especially boys, would explode sooner or later… which it did when Malfoy burst into his office with a bleeding nose, crying about Potter punching him.
Bizarrely, when Severus summoned Potter to his office right away to answer for using his fists to settle an argument like a common muggle, he showed up without any protest. Draco smirked at Potter the whole time as Severus delivered his usual tirade whenever one of his students got into a fight. He liked to pepper in words like ‘barbaric’ and ‘pathetic’, then announce the punishment.
All the while, Potter just stared at the floor, but what Severus saw in his silent fuming unsettled him deeply long after both boys had been dismissed. His fierce green eyes had been teeming with barely restrained anger and hurt. Severus had seen that look before… long ago. After he sent Potter away with a detention, Severus realised only after he poured himself a glass of wine that Potter hadn’t said a single word in defence of his actions. He just expected to be punished.
Which led to the third exception to his plan to dismiss the boy as nothing special or worthy of his attention. Students were always sullen during detention and Potter wasn’t different. Severus gave him lines to write and left him to it while he worked on marking fifth year essays. The scratching of Potter’s quill soon started to irk him, for no good reason. Frustrated, Severus sighed, casting his quill down angrily. He got up from his seat suddenly, causing his chair to loudly scrape back.
Potter started with a violent flinch and he immediately threw his arm upwards to shield his head. The gesture was so instinctive, so ingrained, it was beyond obvious that Potter fully expected to be attacked. He held his defensive pose for a second before realising what he’d done. Quickly, he lowered his arm, his face shifting from its usual pallor to a deepening pink. He cleared his throat, picking up his quill. Eyes bright, he lowered his gaze and went back to his lines. Severus watched as he brought his hand to the parchment, seeing the faint shake.
Severus knew that many students were frightened of him. If it made them behave themselves, he didn’t care as long as they respected his authority as their professor. He had always been unpleasant, bitter, and even cruel, never swayed by infantile tears whenever a stupid student thought that blubbering would make him go easy on them. It didn’t endear him, and why should he care if it didn’t? He wasn’t there to be liked.
But the flash of fear he just glimpsed on the face of Harry Potter made him pause. A lot of students, when they started at Hogwarts, expected to be hit as a punishment when they got into trouble. Severus remembered being surprised himself when he wasn’t caned or worse when a student himself. Some children came to the school from stricter households than others… and then there were the students that overreacted to discipline as if they had never been told ‘no’ in their lives. That had been the category Potter belonged to…the same category as his spoiled father.
Wasn’t it?
“That will be enough for tonight, Potter.”
He didn’t have to tell him twice. Potter cleared the desk in a blink, blinking rapidly as he did. His face was still very red. His flinch had embarrassed the boy, just the same as when Nott asked Severus to fix his glasses. The reaction wasn’t right and Severus knew he shouldn’t ignore it… but he had told himself that there would be no exceptions. He wouldn’t care if it was another student. Potter was not his problem.
No, Quirrell was his problem.
Dumbledore had made the most questionable hire yet for the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Severus had his suspicions around Quirrell, but it wasn’t until the bumbling idiot managed to smuggle a mountain troll into the castle that he realised that he was a dangerous idiot with a dark agenda. He had enough to deal with, especially if he was right about his concerns and that somehow the stuttering fool had learned what was hidden in the castle. He wouldn’t get far in retrieving the Philosopher’s Stone, but his presence was proof that Dumbledore’s plan to lure their enemies towards them had worked. Quirrell was yet to even figure out how to get past Hagrid’s monstrous three-headed dog. Severus himself ended up on the wrong side of the beast when he had followed Quirrell to head him off, nearly losing his leg in the process. For the moment, the security held Quirrell back.
Christmas came and went without incident. Months of being vigilant kept the moron from attempting to sneak past the protections in the Third Floor. Some sort of settlement between Potter and Malfoy had also placated the rivalry enough that it didn’t make its way back to Severus’s office. By the time Easter had come and gone, he could almost allow himself to believe that Potter had fitted into the background. Not a priority. Not even a concern.
A balmy April swept into a pleasant May. The Quidditch final was on the horizon, another certain win for Slytherin to wrestle from the other House teams. Nothing betrayed that anything significant would burst in and disturb the calm status quo that had settled over the school. Severus had no warning for when he would have two first years suddenly hammering on his office door just when he cleared his papers away, ready to join the school for dinner. He scowled at the loud, abrasive knocking, ready to reprimand whoever it was (if they were a student), as he called for them to enter.
Hurrying inside as if something was chasing them and hot on their robe-tails, the two first years bustled inside and hastily shut the door behind them. Snape swept from his desk to confront the pair, determined to figure out what foolishness had them calling on him. His stride faltered a little when he saw who it was.
“What is the meaning of this, Potter?”
Unusually, Potter didn’t have one of his housemates with him. Severus didn’t pay attention to who he had befriended, but he didn’t expect Potter to have a Ravenclaw companion dragged along into his nonsense. He recognised the girl, of course. Hermione Granger was another name that came up frequently in the staff room. She was a prodigy… and muggleborn. While Potter stepped nervously towards Severus, Granger stayed at the door as if standing guard. She stood a little taller than Potter, her curly hair loose and wild.
“I… I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore,” Potter rattled out, pulling himself up to stand as tall as he could as Severus loomed over him. He inched his head upwards, lifting his chin to then meet Severus’s gaze. Severus felt something within him compress, something central and important. In those green, piercing eyes, Severus could see Lily staring back. It was that thought, that painful reminder of her, that made him listen and not shout at her son to get out of his office at once.
“And what, pray tell, is so important that it demands the Headmaster’s attention?” Severus asked instead, curling his lip. Potter fidgeted but he wasn’t intimidated.
“It’s about… the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“What?” Severus barked at once. Of all the things he expected to tumble out of Potter’s mouth, that was not it. No student should even know that the stone existed.
“I think someone is going to steal it,” Potter continued, his voice small but steady. “I know I’m not supposed to know about it, sir, but… but I do anyway. I was in Diagon Alley when Hagrid took it from Gringotts with him and then he said something about Nicolas Flamel… anyway, we put it together and… and then we found out about Fluffy, guarding something in the Third Floor.”
His voice picked up speed, his eyes widening with insistence. Severus inwardly cursed. If Potter’s ramblings were true, then they would need to have words with Hagrid and his inability to keep things quiet.
“And I know someone managed to get Hagrid to tell them how to calm Fluffy. He… well… someone sold him a dragon egg and he told them… but please, don’t get him into trouble. The dragon is gone now, but the man who gave it to him, he was interested in Fluffy… and I think they want to steal the stone-.”
“Enough,” Severus cut in, silencing Potter at once. The boy stared up at him, face ashen. He gulped quietly. “I will ignore, for the moment, the dragon. What I cannot ignore is that you deliberately trespassed the Third Floor corridor that is strictly off limits to students.”
Potter looked down.
“I got lost.”
Lie.
Severus narrowed his eyes at Potter, curious why he lied only about that. He didn’t appear bothered about admitting his guilt to other rule breaks. Yet, frustratingly, the fact that he did lie obviously leant credence to the rest of what he said… which meant that Hagrid had indeed told some stranger about how to calm the beast standing guard over the trapdoor.
“Have you told anyone else this, Potter?” Severus asked, eyeing him closely, before glancing to Granger who watched silently. “Other than Granger.”
“Not about Hagrid and Fluffy, sir. I didn’t want to get him into trouble.”
Interesting, Severus thought. Potter did actually have a brain if he didn’t trust anyone else. He appeared to have chosen the girl as his confidante, noticeably not a Slytherin. Trustworthiness wasn’t a characteristic that Slytherins tended to possess, deciding to instead trust only in themselves.
“Very well. I will bring this to the Headmaster’s attention myself. However, you will be returning to my office tomorrow at five PM, Potter.”
His brows furrowed in confusion.
“What for, sir?”
“Detention. You are in my House, are you not? I cannot overlook your little stroll out-of-bounds even if you were lost, as you said.”
Anger flashed in his green eyes, indignant and hurt. The familiarity sent a shock through Severus and he nearly looked away. Potter huffed through his nostrils and nodded.
“Fine.”
Severus waved his hand over to the door. “Then get out.”
Potter’s face was a picture of fury, evidently seething that he’d been punished, but he kept hold of his tongue. He stalked towards his friend who opened the door and hastened Potter out of the office. Before the door swung shut in their wake, Severus heard the girl muttering about Hagrid getting into trouble. He rolled his eyes. Little did they know that much of what the staff got up to at Hogwarts was brushed under the rug while it was convenient for Dumbledore to keep them hired. Possessing an illegal dragon was nothing compared to Severus’s crimes and yet, there he was, teaching children while he concealed the Dark Mark under his robe sleeve.
And so with the fourth and final exception, Severus Snape finally resigned himself to his fate. He could not ignore Harry Potter. He could not dismiss him and leave him to his own machinations. The brat nearly got himself torn to pieces by a three-headed dog and only just admitted it without any thought of the danger he put himself in. If he hadn’t come to Severus with his suspicions, if he had been turned away, then he would have likely taken matters into his own hands. And Severus… he would be responsible for what followed.
To his surprise, that bothered him.
Heaving a great sigh, Severus headed out of his office. It appeared he was skipping dinner… and it was all Harry Potter’s fault.
He really was his reckoning.