Harry Potter Multi-Chapter fic: Enraged Man a Lion - a Snake the Subtle Spite [Part 1 /?]
Title: Enraged Man a Lion - a Snake the Subtle Spite
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape
Pairing: Snape/Potter
Summary: The war is over and the world moves on leaving the hero behind.
Rating: E for Everyone (at the moment)
Warning: Most people are dead at the beginning of this. Most of the Weasley's except the twins, Hermione and more.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe. It belongs to JK Rowling. And Emerson is not mine but is in the public domain.
Spoilers: AU after Book 5. Also I'm currently obsessed with Emerson and I feel some of his words would resonate with both Snape and Harry in my world so there is a lot of that in here from his book Nature and the title is taken from his works as well
AN:Big Thanks to eviinsanemonkey for looking this over a while ago
AN2: I had a version of this posted a while ago but it has been re-worked and re-written. It is still a WIP but is also slowly getting finished.
Read it here : Enraged Man a Lion - a Snake the Subtle Spite @ AO3
Or Here
Chapter 1 Our Age is Retrospective
There are stories there, in the dark recesses of ones mind. Cliché, of course, but what else is there to say? We live as children not knowing what it truly means to live, yet still know how, and do it almost perfectly. It is when you finally realize, finally grasp that you’ve been alive, that the world is gone. You’re left a little jaded at the knowledge, but you trudge on because you have to; you have to find a way to get back what you lost. Every smile every laugh - even every hurt - and you want to see them all again, just as you did when you were young.
-Excerpt from ‘Before the World Moved On’ by Harry Potter
It was September 1st 1998 and Harry Potter was standing in the cool brisk wind, common for the highland autumn, looking out over the lake waiting for the sound of the Hogwarts Express to pull into the station. Five months ago the Dark Lord Voldemort, the man previously known as Tom Riddle, had been destroyed by his hands. ‘I’m a murderer several times over now’ Harry thought to himself. He was sure he should feel something at the thought and that it should mean something but there was nothing at least not about being the murderer of a mad man. A rustling noise caught his attention and a couple of Thestrals were flying and diving in and out of the trees of the forbidden forest. Harry watched them and wanted to smile at their play but that was something that had become increasingly more difficult.
“Mr. Potter.” A voice echoed down from the direction of the castle. It was McGonagall and Harry sighed heavily as he turned around and began the walk upwards. The castle loomed in a way it never had before. There was too much memory in the shadows of its towers and arches and he had far too few words to describe it. Yet, it was something he was becoming rather obsessed with. Sometimes a sentence would pop into his head as he walked the halls of the castle, but he could never quite grasp it. The words were always just out of reach and disappeared as quickly as they came. Like the childhood he never had and the life he’d never lead.
He’d reached the bridge that in the last battle had been completely destroyed. Harry had helped rebuild it a month later, even put the final touch on it: a beautiful marble phoenix that stood on the top of the entering arch. He paused as he reached it thinking maybe it wouldn’t let him pass that it would see him as something non-human, monstrous, and bar his passing. But he took the first step under its great wings and nothing stopped him. His foot steps sounded hollow against the wood as he walked. During the war amongst the violence and fear it was easier in the uncertainty; there was always something to wake up for. It took a long time afterward to realize it and to find out how incredibly hard it was just to exist and even harder trying to reconcile the past with the future. After all, fifty years from now that phoenix would be nothing more than a statue not the symbol of memory hope and valour that it was now. Harry felt sickened by the thought that maybe they had died for nothing.
McGonagall was waiting for him under the clock at the entrance to the castle. Her constant severe look in place but softened slightly at his approached. She looked exactly the same as she had when Harry had first met her in this place though her brown hair was liberally spotted with grey now and the lines on her face had deepened.
“Professor.” Harry greeted in a very low quiet voice he’d adopted in the past few months. He could see that it worried them, the ones still alive, but he just couldn’t seem to muster up anything more.
“Mr. Potter, as you know the train will be here soon and Dumbledore requests your presence before the students arrive.”
Harry nodded. “He could have sent Fawkes or an owl. Is there something else Professor?”
She gave him a small smile. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining me in the first year classes tomorrow.” Harry looked puzzled and she continued. “It is rather embarrassing showing the younger children a simple house cat when there is a lion roaming the castle. It would of course give the Gryffindor’s a little house spirit.”
Harry cringed slightly at the idea. He didn’t want to be on show again but the memory of his first days here, how every bit of magic had still been so magical and new, came to him. He also knew that McGonagall was just as proud of her tabby self as he was of his lion. She was doing this just to give him something to do. He agreed anyways for he didn’t quite mind any time he needed to transform now. It was so much easier to breathe as an animal. Maybe he was losing his humanity after all.
The form itself had been a shock to him and McGonagall. He had gone to her at the end of fifth year asking to be tutored hoping for a form that may be small and of some use to the order. A secret self that Voldemort and everyone else wouldn’t know would have been perfect. But as always Harry was the exception. Instead of a dog like Sirius, or even a small cat like McGonagall when his form finally came to him after eight months of gruelling transfiguration work he shifted into a large brute of a lion. Not even a normal Gryffindor type lion either. Instead he was ghostly white save for a mane of messy black fur. McGonagall stared at him in shock at first, then pride. It ended in laughter when Harry had tried to take his first steps and ended up tripping over his own front paws. They were huge. When he was once again a boy the grin he wore was plastered on his face for weeks afterward. It was Molly and Bill’s death that had finally erased that smile and Remus’s the day later that had killed it.
“Wonderful, I shall collect you after breakfast tomorrow. Now hurry along to Dumbledore.”
“Yes Professor.” And Harry continued on his way, but she called him back briefly.
“And Mr. Potter, if he offers you a Shrieking Lemon candy don’t take it.”
“What’s a…”
McGonagall interrupted him, “It’s one of the Weasley twin’s newest candies.”
Harry understood and thanked her before continuing on his way to Dumbledore’s office. He rarely accepted anything from the man now anyways. Their trust was a precarious one, if there was any left at all. As he walked through the halls ever corner held a memory of some kind. He passed the washroom where he and Ron had saved Hermione in their first year. It had been the start of their friendship that had only grown stronger and fiercer. Harry may have out lived them both but his loyalty to them was just as strong. Not even that love or loyalty could have saved them. They had died in the end; his friends and family gone forever and maybe even longer. For a time when one had fallen Harry blamed himself and Dumbledore would sit him down with tea while he’d rage. Yelling and breaking things as Dumbledore sat and waited. As the war went on and more died each day he suddenly couldn’t do it anymore. Something in him was gone and he was just tired of everything.
He knew exactly when it had happened, when the emptiness started; after Arthur had been killed by Pettigrew. Dumbledore sat him down with a cup of tea and Harry just sat there staring at the man with his yellow robes, half-moon spectacles and infuriating beard chomping on a biscuit as if the loss of one of the older members of the Order, and head of one of the older wizarding families were a trifle. Two things dawned on him in quick succession. One was that it wasn’t his fault or the dead; only with Voldemort did the blame lay. He quickly stopped blaming himself or even getting mad at the dead for he couldn’t hate them for leaving him alone. They’d not died in vain but with honour. They died for those to come, the ones that would move the world forward and leave history behind; leaving him as nothing more than a memory. Harry knew he had to let them go and he did but would never forget the. But the second thing was much more ominous and terrifying. Harry became aware of just how freely Dumbledore was playing with all their lives as he bit into another cookie. Albus Dumbledore was a monster in an old man disguise. It didn’t escape Harry though that this was war and they needed all the help they could get.
Harry was at the stairway and glared at the griffin statue before whispering the password and trying to clear his mind as he went up the stairs. Though he never truly mastered Occlumency a clear mind was his greatest defence against anything Dumbledore. It may have only been his thoughts but even his sharp knock on the headmaster’s door sounded with a loathing he felt for the man in those moments before the war ended. The door creaked open and Harry stepped in tense and waiting.
“Ah Harry my boy, how are you this evening?” Dumbledore sat at his desk Fawkes perched beside him. When Harry got closer and responded with a ‘fine’ the Headmaster gestured for him to take a seat.
“Shrieking lemon?”
“No.” Harry said tersely. He was thankful that McGonagall had warned him, but he wouldn’t have taken one anyways. He even completely refused to attempt any pleasantries staring at Dumbledore coldly, waiting for what ever speech was coming. Dumbledore’s constantly twinkling eyes lost a little bit of their shine and he frowned. Harry didn’t know yet whether Dumbledore knew how he felt about him but the last thing he was about to be was forth coming with it. It would serve no purpose for him. Harry snorted softly, that sounded distinctly Slytherin he thought. Dumbledore watched him carefully and did not miss the sound or the lack of etiquette.
“Harry, five months ago this castle, this school and our world was completely ripped in two. In the time since I have seen you and the others work round the clock to piece it all back together in time for today. I just wanted to say thank you.”
Even through the nothingness that Harry felt within anger flashed replacing it for a moment and opened his mouth to speak but Dumbledore held up a hand, and like always Harry’s mouth snapped shut as if on command. Even his own body betray him at times.
“Thank you because for probably the first time in your life,” the twinkle was completely gone now as was his anger and for a second Harry almost felt sorry for him. “You had a choice and you used it to do something greater than yourself, greater than history even. I just wanted to thank you for that and tell you that you are of course welcome to stay as long here as long as you’d like but if you wouldn’t mind, since we are short on staff at the moment if any of the professors ask for a hand you wouldn’t mind.”
Harry nodded slowly instead of a ‘you’re welcome’ that sickened him even to imagine saying. “I’ve already something arranged with Professor McGonagall and her first years tomorrow.”
A small smile reached Dumbledore’s face and the twinkling was back in his eyes.
“Thank you, my boy.”
“Is that all Headmaster?”
“Indeed it is. That and there will be a chair for you at the head table from now on and since you will be a part of the staff I asked that you are there for at least one meal a day. I required two of the other Professors save Severus.”
Harry couldn’t help himself for asking why and Dumbledore’s twinkle increased. “He may be like a son to me Harry, but I am not ignorant of his difficult disposition.”
Harry felt bile rise in his throat. Dumbledore thought of Snape as a son, yet treated him much like the pawn that Harry himself had been. There was so much wrong with that and it was unfair to Snape. Not that Snape and he got along any better than before, but with out him the war would have never ended. It was Snape that had his back, literally, in the end. Before anything else was expected of him Harry said good-bye and left. He still had to change before the feast and any more time alone with Dumbledore and he might not be able to stop himself from hexing him.
In the hall again Harry braced himself against the wall for a moment. When the war had ended and the light had won. There had been great fanfare in the wizarding world for their hero and Harry trudged through it all with a grace he didn’t think himself capable of. After having watched, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, the most of the Weasley’s, Remus and the so many more fall during those two particularly dark years, Harry felt he had nothing left to do but kill Voldemort and hope he died in the process. It had been a naive hope in the end for fate was never that kind.
The rooms he occupied were close to the entrance to the dungeons. They’d been given to him as the building restarted as it was the least damaged and more structurally sound than anywhere else. While as the building continued and professors moved back to their old quarters as they were fixed, or people went back home, Harry stayed. It was out of the way, quiet and with the still snarky, misanthropic potions master around people were just as hesitant to go near the dungeons. The chambers themselves were sparse with only a bed, a pair of chairs and couch with a connected washroom. Harry was still living out of his old school trunk and he’d never used the chairs. For the past months if he hadn’t been helping, which was almost always, he’d been wandering.
Kicking open his trunk Harry riffled around trying to find something appropriate to wear to the welcome feast. The best thing he had was a black robe with a slight duelling cut much like the Potion Master’s whom had been the one to insist he wore something more appropriate in the months before the final battle as it could have happened at anytime. Not wanting to appear as distinct as that now, Harry chose instead a pair of casual black pants an emerald green shirt that matched his eyes and an over robe that fastened on his neck. The clothing had been a gift from Hermione and Ron the Christmas before he’d lost them during the last relatively free time he could remember. The clothes were close fitting and though he was short and thin they made him look like the man he had become, all boyish looks disappeared from the years of fighting.
“You never have to go back to the Dursley’s now Harry. You’re not just a soldier either; you can’t wear those duelling robes all the time. Ron and I decided you needed something that was yours. So you can just be Harry the good looking normal bloke once in a while.”
She was right. And now though she wasn’t here to see it he was just Harry now, whether good looking or not was something he couldn’t tell, but he was just Harry, just a man. Out of everything it was that which he was most thankful for that. Weeks after Voldemort’s defeat he did do his duty and allowed the people to congratulate and thank him for saving their world, but Harry never forgot that there was a gapping darkness of loneliness and loss that was waiting for him. After every ministry function, every photo it was there waiting for him like a predator waiting to pounce. As the rebuilding of Hogwarts began to occupy his time more and more the ministry soon moved on when he stopped replying. He was their past and they finally had a future to look toward, one that no one thought they would have, oone that he was positive he’d never see. Harry felt like he was still there on the precipice of Voldemort’s defeat except the fear and anger was replaced by a gapping hole.
When the time came to head down to the feast it was that darkness that was finally creeping in. But with a deep breathe Harry held it off. This was probably the last time he needed to be Harry Potter for no doubt Dumbledore would be saying something at the feast. Maybe he was doing it in hopes that Harry would hate it enough to leave the castle, but where else would he go?
***
Dumbledore, Hagrid and Flitwick were already seated at their places when Harry walked in. He gave each a nod and Hagrid even a small smile. As he counted out the chairs and places he saw that Dumbledore had given him the second chair closest to the door. He was thankful for the gesture but it also meant sitting next to Snape whom always had the first chair. It wasn’t that he hated the Potions Master anymore but he was still just as much of a mystery as he always had been. Thankfully somewhere along the lines Harry realized that mystery and unpleasantness doesn’t mean evil which is something Severus Snape was definitely not, though Harry often wondered if he had been once.
Harry took his place and stared out at the still empty hall and began to remember his own first Welcome Feast and what it must have looked like from this angle. The significance that he was in what had been Quirrel’s seat was not lost. What stood out most now was just how very young he had been and how simply black and white thing had seemed. Snape had glared at him that night and his scar had stung. In his mind it all ended up adding to that Snape was evil and therefore trying to kill him. He grimaced at his stupidity now. Despite his still nasty attitude and less than appealing appearance Severus Snape was the most courageous intelligent and brave man he’d ever known and the only one that survived and stood unwavering at his side during the finally battle. Harry had thought about Snape often in the past months. Out of everyone Snape, like himself, was the only other one that truly had no hope of surviving. But somehow he did. Somehow they both did.
The upper year students began shuffling in and immediately the toll of the war could easily be seen. The Slytherin table was nearly empty and the number of students in general was cut in half. Harry began to shake slightly and he could feel the darkness slowly seeping in again. Luna gave him a little wave as she took her place. Neville, who decided to come back after having missed most of his seventh year, did as well. Harry was able to take a breath again but the shaking continued. He’d managed to forget about feeling for so long until today. His spite at Dumbledore, the sickening loss the loneliness of still being alive combined with the idleness of the afternoon and this feast held little comfort and far too many memories. Why did none of the teachers have this same problem? Harry looked down the table. Dumbledore was sitting tall and as normal as he could be, Hagrid was beaming and even Trelawney looked more in reality than normal. But none of them seemed to be having any problems. How could they not see the loss of life in the small population of students? It was glaring at them in the form of half empty tables and less than jovial faces. Harry hated every single one of them in that instant. The remaining teachers began to make their way in save McGonagall who was no doubt rounding up the first years. Snape strolled in with his usual flourish only pausing slightly when he saw Harry sitting next to his chair. Dumbledore gave him a pointed look which Snape sneered at slightly before seating himself. Harry caught none of this himself as he was trying too hard to focus on not fainting, fighting the screaming rising in his chest like a dragon’s fire and burning its way through the air.
The movement of the chair beside him being pulled back and occupied caught Harry’s attention briefly and he looked at Snape. He wasn’t sure what kind of look was on his face but it was either completely blank or filled with a wild desperation. He turned back to the students flowing in and tried to keep breathing. McGonagall walked in trailing seventeen children behind her most looking ready to fall over with nerves. As the sorting got underway Harry could practically hear the voice of the sorting hat in his head from his own sorting. If he had chosen Slytherin, would all this have happened? Gripping the edges of his chair Harry began to shake more violently. This may have been a mistake, staying here in the castle. But this was home wasn’t it? It had been ever since he first arrived but maybe that had changed too. Before his thoughts continued and he ended up hyperventilating a dark clothed arm poured something out of a vile and into his glass interrupted him. So quickly anyone watching would have barely noticed.
“Drink it Potter.” A low voice commanded from beside him.
And he did without thinking. In minutes the shaking stopped and everything seemed bright. The weight that had settled on his chest had lessened and his mind fuzzed a bit. He couldn’t complete remember what he’d just been thinking. Calming draught.
“Thank you Professor.” Harry whispered as the first child was sent through to Hufflepuff.
No more exchanges were made as the rest of the sorting commenced. Seven new students to Slytherin made Harry suspicious that the hat was doing it just to make up numbers. Gryffindor gained four, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw three each. They’d lost the least during the fighting.
When all the new students had settled and McGonagall took her seat beside Dumbledore, the Headmaster stood to make his typical welcoming announcement. Colourful as ever in a bright purple and pink robe, his beard tucked into his belt he was beaming greater than Harry had ever seen him before.
“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we tuck in, I’d like to first welcome our newest students and welcome back our old ones. I’d like us also to recognize that if it were not for the tireless efforts of Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Terry Boot, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, our Gameskeeper Hagrid and our own Harry Potter we would not have a hall to eat in nor a castle to sleep and learn in. To them we give out thanks” The room erupted in a thunderous applause and some of the first years looked frightened but most joined in. Harry started shaking slightly again but more out of anger at Dumbledore. It earned him an arched eyebrow as Snape who’d yet to stop watching him. “I’d also like you all to welcome Professor Flitch-Fletchy as our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” The hall clapped heartily again and Dumbledore put up his hands back up to silence them. “Thank you. Just a few more words. Bumble! Slumber! Cowlick! Peak!” He sat back down and everyone clapped again though with a little bit less enthusiasm. The man was still well and truly mad.
The food appeared in front of Harry, but like much of the time now and even with the calming draught he wasn’t very hungry and pushed a little food around his plate trying to appear busy. Professor Sinestra whom sat next to him on the other side was engaged with Flitwick about charms for rune’s practice and hanging pictures and once again Harry couldn’t think of how they can just continue on like that. Snape on the other side was eating silently, though much like Harry it was more out of show than anything else.
“Potter, eat.” Snape said quietly halfway through the meal making Harry jump slightly. Why the hell should Snape care?
“Not hungry.”
“That draught needs sustenance.”
“I don’t usually sir.”
“Suddenly became a Potion’s Master over night Potter?” Snape’s eyes narrowed.
“No, but I’ve taken enough.”
“Not of that kind.” Snape said now with his, teacher’s voice but hesitated slightly before continuing. “It is one of my own creations with a higher concentration.”
Harry stared at him and they both knew exactly what he was remembering.
***
The summer before his seventh year was to begin and before his reaching the age of majority in the wizarding world Harry was holed up in Grimmauld Place for the summer. It was a tactical move that Dumbledore decided on for it gave him time to learning more offensive types of magic. It also allowed him to attend every Order meeting. During that time and the year they’d been in all out war he had had not much to do with Snape. But it was during an Order meeting Dumbledore had opened the floor to Snape’s usual post attack report that their partnership began.
“Severus, any news to report?” Dumbledore asked from his spot at the head of the table in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Snape had come in late and held the spot at the foot, next to Harry, who was always delegated to the furthest spot away from the action during these meetings, as if that table length was supposed to protect him.
When the potions master has slipped in, Harry hadn’t even noticed until the chair next to him moved and the man sat down. How a person with so many robes could move so quietly Harry could only wonder. But now as Dumbledore was droning on it gave him time to really look at Snape. He hadn’t been this close to his ex-professor since their failed occumelency classes, and he looked very much the same, or so he thought. Clearing his throat, Snape stood up and all attention turned to him.
“Lucius and the Dark Lord’s delta team infiltrated the Three Broomsticks last evening. Rosmerta was taken and brought to the Dark Lord’s stronghold. I was not aware of the plans, and knew of no attacks until I watched them bring her in last night.” Snape paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts and with a slight sniff, continued. “She was, persuaded into divulging Hagrid’s directions regarding the passing of information from the Hogs’ Head as I informed you of early this morning.”
As Snape continued his narrative, Harry looked the man over with more precision. His face was gaunt. He looked as if he’d lost at a stone or maybe closer to two. His jacket was no longer taught across his chest and shoulder. As the man continued his summary, his hands fell to his side, and for just a moment, Harry saw them shaking, but never once did his voice waiver.
“… He then called me into his anti-chamber to prescribe a potion for him to douse Rosmerta.” Snape said her name so softly that everyone in the room seemed to lean forward just a little bit and as he took his seat. Tonks burst into tears. Dumbledore rose again, slowly, sorrow showing in his face and in the way he held his body.
“Severus, this is the fourth occurrence in the past month that you’ve not been made aware of. Does Voldemort suspect?”
Snape inadvertently flinched at the name, but his eyes glinted with the steel sharpness Harry was used to, and a deep frown settled on the man’s lip. “I do not believe so Headmaster.”
“Believe or know Severus?”
“Does it matter?” He replied with a sneer laced with pure exasperation and weariness. Dumbledore looked down the table at him, over his half-moon spectacles. “Of course it matters my boy. If that is all, I conclude this meeting. Severus, please remain.”
As the rest of the order was herded out, Harry stayed in his seat next to Snape, waiting till they all left with Dumbledore to be escorted to the floo as saw them off. They were alone in the kitchen for a minute. Snape hadn’t even moved, except to slouch down in his chair and sprawl his long legs under the table without even a look or acknowledgement to Harry. Harry wasn’t going to take that, even if it was Snape; he’d been cooped up in this house too long and whether he liked it or not, the man was part of the war effort.
“Professor, are you alright?”
Snape turned his head without actually looking at him and growled at him. “Potter, take your misplaced Gryffindor empathy else where.”
“Why?”
“I killed an innocent woman last night.” It was a blunt sentence, no anger or hate, so un-Snape like and said in such a monotonous tone that the words just hung in the air smothering them.
Harry’s expression hardened. This was war, people died and the only thing he could do was continue. For Snape that philosophy probably went double for he had to do the killing in order to continue. But those words…Harry couldn’t think of anything to extinguish them with, so he stayed silent, got up, grabbed a cup from the counter, and placed it in front of Snape filling it with the still steaming brew he’d made for the meeting. Snape stared at the cup placed before him, and started laughing. First it was just a quick snort but it kept going until through the jaded laughter he finally made out a few words.
“Tea, Potter? Taking leave of your senses, or lessons from Albus?”
“Same thing aren’t they professor?” And the exotic laughter kept coming until there were tears in the older man’s eyes and he was doubled over clutching his belly from the force of it. Harry stared with a sudden terror until finally Snape uncurled himself and grabbed a vial from out of his robes and doused himself with a calming potion. It took effect quiet quickly and after clearing his throat slightly, turned to look at Harry with the usual Snape expression.
“Potter, get out.”
Harry was slightly frightened by the whole exchange and he back out of the room very slowly, only to run into Dumbledore.
“Professor, I think…I think Snape’s cracked.”
Dumbledore looked sadly at the closed door that led to the kitchen. “Go on up to your room while I have a chat with Severus. I’ll say goodbye before we leave.”
Harry slowly went up to his room, too aware of the silencing spell Dumbledore had put up on the kitchen and one that not even one of the twin’s extendable ears could have gotten through. Harry lay on the bed picking up a book on offensive spells and practicing the wand movements all too aware that it could be any number of these spells that would turn him into murderer soon enough. It was sometime before he heard Dumbledore on the stairs and went to meet him in the hall; the elderly wizard looking every single one of his many years.
“I must impose on your hospitality a bit longer young Harry. I would like Severus to stay here for a little while to rest.”
Harry nodded, as much as it sounded if Dumbledore was asking he knew better.
“That’s fine sir, I’ll get Dobby to make up a room.”
“Very good my boy. Professor Snape while he is here is to instruct you on the offensive spells I know you have been working on.”
Harry stared at him and began “Sir, you know we don’t…”
“I’m well aware of the animosity between the two of you, but you must learn and I have no one else to spare. However, it is also a task that I trust only to Professor Snape as he is most aware of what we are up against. Do try to listen to him.”
Harry wanted to disagree, but it was true. If he had known this stuff before, if he had learn Occlumency in the first place Sirus, Ron and Hermione would still be here. If it meant gritting his teeth and following Snape’s orders he could do that. So he nodded and Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes said his goodbye as Harry escorted him to the floo.
***
Snape still carried around calming draughts and not just the normal calming potions but extremely strong ones. Even his now drug induced chipperness Harry realized he had been so very wrong; there was at least one person that was just having as hard a time as he was. Harry took a few small bites of his mash potatoes before turning back to Snape as if to say ‘Is that better’. The man didn’t say anything but nodded and turned back to his own meal. The rest of the meal passed in silence and by the time Harry had made it back to his room that evening the effect of the potion had worn him out completely and he collapsed into bed.
Harry woke up the next morning after a long uninterrupted sleep probably thanks to the calming potion. Something he hadn’t had since being dosed with dreamless sleep for the first weeks after the battle. As he went to tidy up for breakfast even the mirror was shocked.
“Look at you deary! You’re eyes haven’t looked that light in ages.” Harry rolled his eyes at it and went down to breakfast. It was still a bit early, but the Hall was packed. No doubt everyone excited to get a routine back now that they truly had nothing else to worry about.
After he’d nibbled on a piece of toast for a while, the Hall started clearing and he realized it was about time for classes. McGonagall dropped by his chair on her way out.
“Are you all set Mr Potter?”
“Yes professor.” She told him to follow her and they made their way to the class room.
The students stared in complete awe of him when he entered the class room behind McGonagall. But as the lesson began her attention was eventually won over and he stayed at the back of the class until he was called forward.
“Now, if you all pay attention, Mr. Potter will show you one of the highlights of transfiguration.”
Harry took his place next to her at the front and taking a look around to make sure he had enough room and transformed. Soon enough in place of his short and awkward body stood a large white lion. The students applauded and McGonagall gave him a pat on the head with a ‘good job’ making him roll his eyes eliciting a few giggles from the students.
McGonagall asked him to stay like that for a few minutes while she explained about markings and registration. He sat tall curling his tail about him twitching the tip and watching McGonagall as she lectured.
“You’ll notice that Mr. Potter’s form has certain aspects uncharacteristic of his lion form. Can anyone list them?”
The students were hesitant at first ‘just like we had been’ Harry thought ‘except Hermione of course’. Eventually a few put up their hands and the list was started. One girl said that his mane wasn’t supposed to be black; another mentioned his lighting bolt scar and a boy, whose last name as it happens was Skeeter, making Harry snort when McGonagall called on the boy, earning Harry a very pointed glare, but the student rightly mentioned Harry’s still bright green eyes.
Thankfully none of the students mentioned any of his other scars that littered his body, his almost emaciated state or at least they weren’t given chance to as McGonagall told him to change back. The class at the direction of McGonagall thanked Harry for his display and he left. As he walked away from the classroom with a feeling of muted accomplishment he paused for a moment as a thought flitted across his mind. ‘Those children could live now. He helped keep them alive. The dead had given life for each one of them’. It was an idea that should have given him a purpose, made him feel like it was okay to be alive, but by the time he turned into the next corridor of the castle it was gone and something deep inside his chest still hurt.
Harry spent the rest of the day by the lake with a note book in hand. There was so much up there in his head that he needed some way to get rid of the jumble. First he made a scribble at the top then decided to write the date. September 2nd 1998. He stared at it, then back at the scribble. It looked a bit like a flobberworm so he put a few legs on it to make it look more like a kneazle. He made a list of things he was thinking of but it only lead to a bunch of over emotional drivel that held none of the power or depth that he needed and wanted it to. Annoyed at himself Harry banished the book to his rooms and transformed into his lion form and wandered the grounds chasing rabbits and the odd kneazle. When he did return to his rooms it was well after dinner but he’d been to breakfast fulfilling Dumbledore’s meal attendance criteria.
***
That night Harry lay in bed replaying the events of the day remembering every face in that transfiguration class staring up at him in awe. So young and innocent, malleable and sponge like - everything he was no longer, though innocent was probably something he’d never had been. But now that he’d given those children the ability to be all those things without fear, what was he? What could he be after losing so much? As the thoughts swirled about in his head it was quickly becoming too much. The space of the room seemed to be inching closer and closer. The darkness and emptiness weigh down every inch of him. As his breaths started coming in shorter gasps Harry leapt out of bed and headed for the door and the silent open corridors before he could suffocate in the darkness.
The cold air in the halls hit Harry like a giant breathe of relief. It ruffled his hair slightly as he started walking down to the main doors. When he reached them instead of leaving the castle he went into the great hall. It would be rare to see the hall empty during the day now that the students were back. Even during the summer with all the rebuilding that was going had been going on there was always a group here at one time or another. But now it was just him. The faint glow that came from the starscape now on display on the illusioned ceiling was mesmerizing. With a small smile on his face now Harry hopped up on one of the long tables, the one that in the coming months would be filled with a bunch of Hufflepuffs, and laid on his back with his legs dangling over the edge to get lost in counting shooting stars.
At some point between drifting in and out of a light doze Harry had lost track of his counting and of time when he was jolted out of his thoughts by a shadow that suddenly appeared at his elbows and a voice whose words rolled over him leaving a shiver in their wake.
“But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds will separate between him and what he touches.”
Harry's pulse quickened at the words. Something in them resonated deeply and he felt something settle in his chest. When Harry sat up Snape was standing beside him and looking up at the ceiling as well.
“Evening Professor Snape.”
“Try good morning Mr. Potter, it is nearing on dawn.” The man looked to him; his tunnel like dark eyes seemed to asses him in the dim light. When Harry was younger they always seemed so cold but at that moment there was something else in them. It wasn't as extreme as warmth but it was something.
A soft, half-hearted ‘oh’ escaped Harry even though he wasn’t surprised. “Why are you up so early, sir?”
“Why are you up so late Mr. Potter?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Harry looked up at the man. In the slowly rising dawn light he could now make out the man’s face. Just as sallow and thin, his nose as evident as ever but the black hair was now marred by a few flicks of grey. The older man gave him a pointed expression and a slightly raised brow that was completely Snape-ish; he was obviously not to keen on sleeping as well.
“What was that?” Harry asked turning his eyes back to the ceiling for a moment.
“Emerson.”
Snape started walking up to his place at the head table, and Harry noticed that settings were slowly appearing at the tables so he began his own ambling way up to the table. Harry hesitantly took the chair next to Snape that he had sat in the night before.
“Do you mind, sir?”
“If you must.” And the older man busied himself to getting his cup of tea in order, of which one also appeared in front of Harry. The clinking of spoons and the slight sips of tea were gratingly intimate and sounds that when eating in a hall full of people you never hear. But now, just him and Snape it was unsettling. Frankly, even more so was the geniality of their exchange.
“Emerson, was he a Wizard?”
“No.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“Are you truly interested?” Snape turned his eyes on the younger man, reading him. Harry replied with a curt nod and wondered what Snape saw when he looked at him.
“Well, it seems that not all hope is lost on you Potter. It seems you’ve developed an interest in philosophy.” Snape snorted. “The general thought is that to discover yourself, and the true nature of man you must remove from society and culture. Look to nature as a moral, ethical guide because it is society that turns us into monsters… or saviours.”
“You’re not a monster.” Harry said quietly, but it earned him nothing but a glare.
They were both silent for a moment and Harry thought about the words and his brow furrowed. “So, if that’s something the war completely prevented, where does that leave people like us? I mean, do normal people actually think on that level?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, Potter.”
Once again, Harry looked at Snape in a new light. They were the same. Both free for the first time, but floundering around trying to find that guide, that hold on this new world that will allow them to continue on.
“Is it possible to do it? I mean, for people like us.”
Snape shifted uncomfortably when Harry said ‘us’ but did not answer for a long while. Harry didn’t push him but before the older man left as the first group of students walked in, a bunch of Ravenclaws with books to read during their own repast.
“Potter, we are not the same. Is it possible for you? I do not know. For myself I cannot see another way.” And with that he left Harry alone to figure out the meanings of his words.
Harry stayed until Flitwick came in with a cheerful ‘good morning’ and asked if he wouldn’t mind popping into his third year class to help out.
And so it began the new routine of Harry showing up to certain classes to help out or he’d be walking through the halls and run into one of the Professors who’d usher him into their office with offers of tea. Harry would listen politely, nodding and agreeing with what ever they said and take the little pieces of advice they’d give to him, but he’d leave and wander around aimlessly again, wondering how it was that they could all continue on like countless years before; all except Snape.
As caustic as their relationship had been in the past, Snape now a days was more ambivalent than anything else. His temper was still short and he still gave more points to Slytherin than anyone else but his cruelty to Harry was mostly gone especially after that morning.
He left Harry puzzled when ever they interacted now. It was destabilizing and nerve wrecking, yet somehow out of everything that had changed, Snape, like himself, seemed to be left behind. The two men would cross paths every so often in the middle of the night, but then it was only a nod between two war weary men with too many memories for sleep to hold them. There were never really any other exchanges of philosophies or pleasantries until a few days before Halloween.
***
PART 2
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape
Pairing: Snape/Potter
Summary: The war is over and the world moves on leaving the hero behind.
Rating: E for Everyone (at the moment)
Warning: Most people are dead at the beginning of this. Most of the Weasley's except the twins, Hermione and more.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe. It belongs to JK Rowling. And Emerson is not mine but is in the public domain.
Spoilers: AU after Book 5. Also I'm currently obsessed with Emerson and I feel some of his words would resonate with both Snape and Harry in my world so there is a lot of that in here from his book Nature and the title is taken from his works as well
AN:Big Thanks to eviinsanemonkey for looking this over a while ago
AN2: I had a version of this posted a while ago but it has been re-worked and re-written. It is still a WIP but is also slowly getting finished.
Read it here : Enraged Man a Lion - a Snake the Subtle Spite @ AO3
Or Here
Chapter 1 Our Age is Retrospective
There are stories there, in the dark recesses of ones mind. Cliché, of course, but what else is there to say? We live as children not knowing what it truly means to live, yet still know how, and do it almost perfectly. It is when you finally realize, finally grasp that you’ve been alive, that the world is gone. You’re left a little jaded at the knowledge, but you trudge on because you have to; you have to find a way to get back what you lost. Every smile every laugh - even every hurt - and you want to see them all again, just as you did when you were young.
-Excerpt from ‘Before the World Moved On’ by Harry Potter
It was September 1st 1998 and Harry Potter was standing in the cool brisk wind, common for the highland autumn, looking out over the lake waiting for the sound of the Hogwarts Express to pull into the station. Five months ago the Dark Lord Voldemort, the man previously known as Tom Riddle, had been destroyed by his hands. ‘I’m a murderer several times over now’ Harry thought to himself. He was sure he should feel something at the thought and that it should mean something but there was nothing at least not about being the murderer of a mad man. A rustling noise caught his attention and a couple of Thestrals were flying and diving in and out of the trees of the forbidden forest. Harry watched them and wanted to smile at their play but that was something that had become increasingly more difficult.
“Mr. Potter.” A voice echoed down from the direction of the castle. It was McGonagall and Harry sighed heavily as he turned around and began the walk upwards. The castle loomed in a way it never had before. There was too much memory in the shadows of its towers and arches and he had far too few words to describe it. Yet, it was something he was becoming rather obsessed with. Sometimes a sentence would pop into his head as he walked the halls of the castle, but he could never quite grasp it. The words were always just out of reach and disappeared as quickly as they came. Like the childhood he never had and the life he’d never lead.
He’d reached the bridge that in the last battle had been completely destroyed. Harry had helped rebuild it a month later, even put the final touch on it: a beautiful marble phoenix that stood on the top of the entering arch. He paused as he reached it thinking maybe it wouldn’t let him pass that it would see him as something non-human, monstrous, and bar his passing. But he took the first step under its great wings and nothing stopped him. His foot steps sounded hollow against the wood as he walked. During the war amongst the violence and fear it was easier in the uncertainty; there was always something to wake up for. It took a long time afterward to realize it and to find out how incredibly hard it was just to exist and even harder trying to reconcile the past with the future. After all, fifty years from now that phoenix would be nothing more than a statue not the symbol of memory hope and valour that it was now. Harry felt sickened by the thought that maybe they had died for nothing.
McGonagall was waiting for him under the clock at the entrance to the castle. Her constant severe look in place but softened slightly at his approached. She looked exactly the same as she had when Harry had first met her in this place though her brown hair was liberally spotted with grey now and the lines on her face had deepened.
“Professor.” Harry greeted in a very low quiet voice he’d adopted in the past few months. He could see that it worried them, the ones still alive, but he just couldn’t seem to muster up anything more.
“Mr. Potter, as you know the train will be here soon and Dumbledore requests your presence before the students arrive.”
Harry nodded. “He could have sent Fawkes or an owl. Is there something else Professor?”
She gave him a small smile. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining me in the first year classes tomorrow.” Harry looked puzzled and she continued. “It is rather embarrassing showing the younger children a simple house cat when there is a lion roaming the castle. It would of course give the Gryffindor’s a little house spirit.”
Harry cringed slightly at the idea. He didn’t want to be on show again but the memory of his first days here, how every bit of magic had still been so magical and new, came to him. He also knew that McGonagall was just as proud of her tabby self as he was of his lion. She was doing this just to give him something to do. He agreed anyways for he didn’t quite mind any time he needed to transform now. It was so much easier to breathe as an animal. Maybe he was losing his humanity after all.
The form itself had been a shock to him and McGonagall. He had gone to her at the end of fifth year asking to be tutored hoping for a form that may be small and of some use to the order. A secret self that Voldemort and everyone else wouldn’t know would have been perfect. But as always Harry was the exception. Instead of a dog like Sirius, or even a small cat like McGonagall when his form finally came to him after eight months of gruelling transfiguration work he shifted into a large brute of a lion. Not even a normal Gryffindor type lion either. Instead he was ghostly white save for a mane of messy black fur. McGonagall stared at him in shock at first, then pride. It ended in laughter when Harry had tried to take his first steps and ended up tripping over his own front paws. They were huge. When he was once again a boy the grin he wore was plastered on his face for weeks afterward. It was Molly and Bill’s death that had finally erased that smile and Remus’s the day later that had killed it.
“Wonderful, I shall collect you after breakfast tomorrow. Now hurry along to Dumbledore.”
“Yes Professor.” And Harry continued on his way, but she called him back briefly.
“And Mr. Potter, if he offers you a Shrieking Lemon candy don’t take it.”
“What’s a…”
McGonagall interrupted him, “It’s one of the Weasley twin’s newest candies.”
Harry understood and thanked her before continuing on his way to Dumbledore’s office. He rarely accepted anything from the man now anyways. Their trust was a precarious one, if there was any left at all. As he walked through the halls ever corner held a memory of some kind. He passed the washroom where he and Ron had saved Hermione in their first year. It had been the start of their friendship that had only grown stronger and fiercer. Harry may have out lived them both but his loyalty to them was just as strong. Not even that love or loyalty could have saved them. They had died in the end; his friends and family gone forever and maybe even longer. For a time when one had fallen Harry blamed himself and Dumbledore would sit him down with tea while he’d rage. Yelling and breaking things as Dumbledore sat and waited. As the war went on and more died each day he suddenly couldn’t do it anymore. Something in him was gone and he was just tired of everything.
He knew exactly when it had happened, when the emptiness started; after Arthur had been killed by Pettigrew. Dumbledore sat him down with a cup of tea and Harry just sat there staring at the man with his yellow robes, half-moon spectacles and infuriating beard chomping on a biscuit as if the loss of one of the older members of the Order, and head of one of the older wizarding families were a trifle. Two things dawned on him in quick succession. One was that it wasn’t his fault or the dead; only with Voldemort did the blame lay. He quickly stopped blaming himself or even getting mad at the dead for he couldn’t hate them for leaving him alone. They’d not died in vain but with honour. They died for those to come, the ones that would move the world forward and leave history behind; leaving him as nothing more than a memory. Harry knew he had to let them go and he did but would never forget the. But the second thing was much more ominous and terrifying. Harry became aware of just how freely Dumbledore was playing with all their lives as he bit into another cookie. Albus Dumbledore was a monster in an old man disguise. It didn’t escape Harry though that this was war and they needed all the help they could get.
Harry was at the stairway and glared at the griffin statue before whispering the password and trying to clear his mind as he went up the stairs. Though he never truly mastered Occlumency a clear mind was his greatest defence against anything Dumbledore. It may have only been his thoughts but even his sharp knock on the headmaster’s door sounded with a loathing he felt for the man in those moments before the war ended. The door creaked open and Harry stepped in tense and waiting.
“Ah Harry my boy, how are you this evening?” Dumbledore sat at his desk Fawkes perched beside him. When Harry got closer and responded with a ‘fine’ the Headmaster gestured for him to take a seat.
“Shrieking lemon?”
“No.” Harry said tersely. He was thankful that McGonagall had warned him, but he wouldn’t have taken one anyways. He even completely refused to attempt any pleasantries staring at Dumbledore coldly, waiting for what ever speech was coming. Dumbledore’s constantly twinkling eyes lost a little bit of their shine and he frowned. Harry didn’t know yet whether Dumbledore knew how he felt about him but the last thing he was about to be was forth coming with it. It would serve no purpose for him. Harry snorted softly, that sounded distinctly Slytherin he thought. Dumbledore watched him carefully and did not miss the sound or the lack of etiquette.
“Harry, five months ago this castle, this school and our world was completely ripped in two. In the time since I have seen you and the others work round the clock to piece it all back together in time for today. I just wanted to say thank you.”
Even through the nothingness that Harry felt within anger flashed replacing it for a moment and opened his mouth to speak but Dumbledore held up a hand, and like always Harry’s mouth snapped shut as if on command. Even his own body betray him at times.
“Thank you because for probably the first time in your life,” the twinkle was completely gone now as was his anger and for a second Harry almost felt sorry for him. “You had a choice and you used it to do something greater than yourself, greater than history even. I just wanted to thank you for that and tell you that you are of course welcome to stay as long here as long as you’d like but if you wouldn’t mind, since we are short on staff at the moment if any of the professors ask for a hand you wouldn’t mind.”
Harry nodded slowly instead of a ‘you’re welcome’ that sickened him even to imagine saying. “I’ve already something arranged with Professor McGonagall and her first years tomorrow.”
A small smile reached Dumbledore’s face and the twinkling was back in his eyes.
“Thank you, my boy.”
“Is that all Headmaster?”
“Indeed it is. That and there will be a chair for you at the head table from now on and since you will be a part of the staff I asked that you are there for at least one meal a day. I required two of the other Professors save Severus.”
Harry couldn’t help himself for asking why and Dumbledore’s twinkle increased. “He may be like a son to me Harry, but I am not ignorant of his difficult disposition.”
Harry felt bile rise in his throat. Dumbledore thought of Snape as a son, yet treated him much like the pawn that Harry himself had been. There was so much wrong with that and it was unfair to Snape. Not that Snape and he got along any better than before, but with out him the war would have never ended. It was Snape that had his back, literally, in the end. Before anything else was expected of him Harry said good-bye and left. He still had to change before the feast and any more time alone with Dumbledore and he might not be able to stop himself from hexing him.
In the hall again Harry braced himself against the wall for a moment. When the war had ended and the light had won. There had been great fanfare in the wizarding world for their hero and Harry trudged through it all with a grace he didn’t think himself capable of. After having watched, Sirius, Ron, Hermione, the most of the Weasley’s, Remus and the so many more fall during those two particularly dark years, Harry felt he had nothing left to do but kill Voldemort and hope he died in the process. It had been a naive hope in the end for fate was never that kind.
The rooms he occupied were close to the entrance to the dungeons. They’d been given to him as the building restarted as it was the least damaged and more structurally sound than anywhere else. While as the building continued and professors moved back to their old quarters as they were fixed, or people went back home, Harry stayed. It was out of the way, quiet and with the still snarky, misanthropic potions master around people were just as hesitant to go near the dungeons. The chambers themselves were sparse with only a bed, a pair of chairs and couch with a connected washroom. Harry was still living out of his old school trunk and he’d never used the chairs. For the past months if he hadn’t been helping, which was almost always, he’d been wandering.
Kicking open his trunk Harry riffled around trying to find something appropriate to wear to the welcome feast. The best thing he had was a black robe with a slight duelling cut much like the Potion Master’s whom had been the one to insist he wore something more appropriate in the months before the final battle as it could have happened at anytime. Not wanting to appear as distinct as that now, Harry chose instead a pair of casual black pants an emerald green shirt that matched his eyes and an over robe that fastened on his neck. The clothing had been a gift from Hermione and Ron the Christmas before he’d lost them during the last relatively free time he could remember. The clothes were close fitting and though he was short and thin they made him look like the man he had become, all boyish looks disappeared from the years of fighting.
“You never have to go back to the Dursley’s now Harry. You’re not just a soldier either; you can’t wear those duelling robes all the time. Ron and I decided you needed something that was yours. So you can just be Harry the good looking normal bloke once in a while.”
She was right. And now though she wasn’t here to see it he was just Harry now, whether good looking or not was something he couldn’t tell, but he was just Harry, just a man. Out of everything it was that which he was most thankful for that. Weeks after Voldemort’s defeat he did do his duty and allowed the people to congratulate and thank him for saving their world, but Harry never forgot that there was a gapping darkness of loneliness and loss that was waiting for him. After every ministry function, every photo it was there waiting for him like a predator waiting to pounce. As the rebuilding of Hogwarts began to occupy his time more and more the ministry soon moved on when he stopped replying. He was their past and they finally had a future to look toward, one that no one thought they would have, oone that he was positive he’d never see. Harry felt like he was still there on the precipice of Voldemort’s defeat except the fear and anger was replaced by a gapping hole.
When the time came to head down to the feast it was that darkness that was finally creeping in. But with a deep breathe Harry held it off. This was probably the last time he needed to be Harry Potter for no doubt Dumbledore would be saying something at the feast. Maybe he was doing it in hopes that Harry would hate it enough to leave the castle, but where else would he go?
***
Dumbledore, Hagrid and Flitwick were already seated at their places when Harry walked in. He gave each a nod and Hagrid even a small smile. As he counted out the chairs and places he saw that Dumbledore had given him the second chair closest to the door. He was thankful for the gesture but it also meant sitting next to Snape whom always had the first chair. It wasn’t that he hated the Potions Master anymore but he was still just as much of a mystery as he always had been. Thankfully somewhere along the lines Harry realized that mystery and unpleasantness doesn’t mean evil which is something Severus Snape was definitely not, though Harry often wondered if he had been once.
Harry took his place and stared out at the still empty hall and began to remember his own first Welcome Feast and what it must have looked like from this angle. The significance that he was in what had been Quirrel’s seat was not lost. What stood out most now was just how very young he had been and how simply black and white thing had seemed. Snape had glared at him that night and his scar had stung. In his mind it all ended up adding to that Snape was evil and therefore trying to kill him. He grimaced at his stupidity now. Despite his still nasty attitude and less than appealing appearance Severus Snape was the most courageous intelligent and brave man he’d ever known and the only one that survived and stood unwavering at his side during the finally battle. Harry had thought about Snape often in the past months. Out of everyone Snape, like himself, was the only other one that truly had no hope of surviving. But somehow he did. Somehow they both did.
The upper year students began shuffling in and immediately the toll of the war could easily be seen. The Slytherin table was nearly empty and the number of students in general was cut in half. Harry began to shake slightly and he could feel the darkness slowly seeping in again. Luna gave him a little wave as she took her place. Neville, who decided to come back after having missed most of his seventh year, did as well. Harry was able to take a breath again but the shaking continued. He’d managed to forget about feeling for so long until today. His spite at Dumbledore, the sickening loss the loneliness of still being alive combined with the idleness of the afternoon and this feast held little comfort and far too many memories. Why did none of the teachers have this same problem? Harry looked down the table. Dumbledore was sitting tall and as normal as he could be, Hagrid was beaming and even Trelawney looked more in reality than normal. But none of them seemed to be having any problems. How could they not see the loss of life in the small population of students? It was glaring at them in the form of half empty tables and less than jovial faces. Harry hated every single one of them in that instant. The remaining teachers began to make their way in save McGonagall who was no doubt rounding up the first years. Snape strolled in with his usual flourish only pausing slightly when he saw Harry sitting next to his chair. Dumbledore gave him a pointed look which Snape sneered at slightly before seating himself. Harry caught none of this himself as he was trying too hard to focus on not fainting, fighting the screaming rising in his chest like a dragon’s fire and burning its way through the air.
The movement of the chair beside him being pulled back and occupied caught Harry’s attention briefly and he looked at Snape. He wasn’t sure what kind of look was on his face but it was either completely blank or filled with a wild desperation. He turned back to the students flowing in and tried to keep breathing. McGonagall walked in trailing seventeen children behind her most looking ready to fall over with nerves. As the sorting got underway Harry could practically hear the voice of the sorting hat in his head from his own sorting. If he had chosen Slytherin, would all this have happened? Gripping the edges of his chair Harry began to shake more violently. This may have been a mistake, staying here in the castle. But this was home wasn’t it? It had been ever since he first arrived but maybe that had changed too. Before his thoughts continued and he ended up hyperventilating a dark clothed arm poured something out of a vile and into his glass interrupted him. So quickly anyone watching would have barely noticed.
“Drink it Potter.” A low voice commanded from beside him.
And he did without thinking. In minutes the shaking stopped and everything seemed bright. The weight that had settled on his chest had lessened and his mind fuzzed a bit. He couldn’t complete remember what he’d just been thinking. Calming draught.
“Thank you Professor.” Harry whispered as the first child was sent through to Hufflepuff.
No more exchanges were made as the rest of the sorting commenced. Seven new students to Slytherin made Harry suspicious that the hat was doing it just to make up numbers. Gryffindor gained four, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw three each. They’d lost the least during the fighting.
When all the new students had settled and McGonagall took her seat beside Dumbledore, the Headmaster stood to make his typical welcoming announcement. Colourful as ever in a bright purple and pink robe, his beard tucked into his belt he was beaming greater than Harry had ever seen him before.
“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we tuck in, I’d like to first welcome our newest students and welcome back our old ones. I’d like us also to recognize that if it were not for the tireless efforts of Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Terry Boot, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, our Gameskeeper Hagrid and our own Harry Potter we would not have a hall to eat in nor a castle to sleep and learn in. To them we give out thanks” The room erupted in a thunderous applause and some of the first years looked frightened but most joined in. Harry started shaking slightly again but more out of anger at Dumbledore. It earned him an arched eyebrow as Snape who’d yet to stop watching him. “I’d also like you all to welcome Professor Flitch-Fletchy as our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” The hall clapped heartily again and Dumbledore put up his hands back up to silence them. “Thank you. Just a few more words. Bumble! Slumber! Cowlick! Peak!” He sat back down and everyone clapped again though with a little bit less enthusiasm. The man was still well and truly mad.
The food appeared in front of Harry, but like much of the time now and even with the calming draught he wasn’t very hungry and pushed a little food around his plate trying to appear busy. Professor Sinestra whom sat next to him on the other side was engaged with Flitwick about charms for rune’s practice and hanging pictures and once again Harry couldn’t think of how they can just continue on like that. Snape on the other side was eating silently, though much like Harry it was more out of show than anything else.
“Potter, eat.” Snape said quietly halfway through the meal making Harry jump slightly. Why the hell should Snape care?
“Not hungry.”
“That draught needs sustenance.”
“I don’t usually sir.”
“Suddenly became a Potion’s Master over night Potter?” Snape’s eyes narrowed.
“No, but I’ve taken enough.”
“Not of that kind.” Snape said now with his, teacher’s voice but hesitated slightly before continuing. “It is one of my own creations with a higher concentration.”
Harry stared at him and they both knew exactly what he was remembering.
***
The summer before his seventh year was to begin and before his reaching the age of majority in the wizarding world Harry was holed up in Grimmauld Place for the summer. It was a tactical move that Dumbledore decided on for it gave him time to learning more offensive types of magic. It also allowed him to attend every Order meeting. During that time and the year they’d been in all out war he had had not much to do with Snape. But it was during an Order meeting Dumbledore had opened the floor to Snape’s usual post attack report that their partnership began.
“Severus, any news to report?” Dumbledore asked from his spot at the head of the table in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Snape had come in late and held the spot at the foot, next to Harry, who was always delegated to the furthest spot away from the action during these meetings, as if that table length was supposed to protect him.
When the potions master has slipped in, Harry hadn’t even noticed until the chair next to him moved and the man sat down. How a person with so many robes could move so quietly Harry could only wonder. But now as Dumbledore was droning on it gave him time to really look at Snape. He hadn’t been this close to his ex-professor since their failed occumelency classes, and he looked very much the same, or so he thought. Clearing his throat, Snape stood up and all attention turned to him.
“Lucius and the Dark Lord’s delta team infiltrated the Three Broomsticks last evening. Rosmerta was taken and brought to the Dark Lord’s stronghold. I was not aware of the plans, and knew of no attacks until I watched them bring her in last night.” Snape paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts and with a slight sniff, continued. “She was, persuaded into divulging Hagrid’s directions regarding the passing of information from the Hogs’ Head as I informed you of early this morning.”
As Snape continued his narrative, Harry looked the man over with more precision. His face was gaunt. He looked as if he’d lost at a stone or maybe closer to two. His jacket was no longer taught across his chest and shoulder. As the man continued his summary, his hands fell to his side, and for just a moment, Harry saw them shaking, but never once did his voice waiver.
“… He then called me into his anti-chamber to prescribe a potion for him to douse Rosmerta.” Snape said her name so softly that everyone in the room seemed to lean forward just a little bit and as he took his seat. Tonks burst into tears. Dumbledore rose again, slowly, sorrow showing in his face and in the way he held his body.
“Severus, this is the fourth occurrence in the past month that you’ve not been made aware of. Does Voldemort suspect?”
Snape inadvertently flinched at the name, but his eyes glinted with the steel sharpness Harry was used to, and a deep frown settled on the man’s lip. “I do not believe so Headmaster.”
“Believe or know Severus?”
“Does it matter?” He replied with a sneer laced with pure exasperation and weariness. Dumbledore looked down the table at him, over his half-moon spectacles. “Of course it matters my boy. If that is all, I conclude this meeting. Severus, please remain.”
As the rest of the order was herded out, Harry stayed in his seat next to Snape, waiting till they all left with Dumbledore to be escorted to the floo as saw them off. They were alone in the kitchen for a minute. Snape hadn’t even moved, except to slouch down in his chair and sprawl his long legs under the table without even a look or acknowledgement to Harry. Harry wasn’t going to take that, even if it was Snape; he’d been cooped up in this house too long and whether he liked it or not, the man was part of the war effort.
“Professor, are you alright?”
Snape turned his head without actually looking at him and growled at him. “Potter, take your misplaced Gryffindor empathy else where.”
“Why?”
“I killed an innocent woman last night.” It was a blunt sentence, no anger or hate, so un-Snape like and said in such a monotonous tone that the words just hung in the air smothering them.
Harry’s expression hardened. This was war, people died and the only thing he could do was continue. For Snape that philosophy probably went double for he had to do the killing in order to continue. But those words…Harry couldn’t think of anything to extinguish them with, so he stayed silent, got up, grabbed a cup from the counter, and placed it in front of Snape filling it with the still steaming brew he’d made for the meeting. Snape stared at the cup placed before him, and started laughing. First it was just a quick snort but it kept going until through the jaded laughter he finally made out a few words.
“Tea, Potter? Taking leave of your senses, or lessons from Albus?”
“Same thing aren’t they professor?” And the exotic laughter kept coming until there were tears in the older man’s eyes and he was doubled over clutching his belly from the force of it. Harry stared with a sudden terror until finally Snape uncurled himself and grabbed a vial from out of his robes and doused himself with a calming potion. It took effect quiet quickly and after clearing his throat slightly, turned to look at Harry with the usual Snape expression.
“Potter, get out.”
Harry was slightly frightened by the whole exchange and he back out of the room very slowly, only to run into Dumbledore.
“Professor, I think…I think Snape’s cracked.”
Dumbledore looked sadly at the closed door that led to the kitchen. “Go on up to your room while I have a chat with Severus. I’ll say goodbye before we leave.”
Harry slowly went up to his room, too aware of the silencing spell Dumbledore had put up on the kitchen and one that not even one of the twin’s extendable ears could have gotten through. Harry lay on the bed picking up a book on offensive spells and practicing the wand movements all too aware that it could be any number of these spells that would turn him into murderer soon enough. It was sometime before he heard Dumbledore on the stairs and went to meet him in the hall; the elderly wizard looking every single one of his many years.
“I must impose on your hospitality a bit longer young Harry. I would like Severus to stay here for a little while to rest.”
Harry nodded, as much as it sounded if Dumbledore was asking he knew better.
“That’s fine sir, I’ll get Dobby to make up a room.”
“Very good my boy. Professor Snape while he is here is to instruct you on the offensive spells I know you have been working on.”
Harry stared at him and began “Sir, you know we don’t…”
“I’m well aware of the animosity between the two of you, but you must learn and I have no one else to spare. However, it is also a task that I trust only to Professor Snape as he is most aware of what we are up against. Do try to listen to him.”
Harry wanted to disagree, but it was true. If he had known this stuff before, if he had learn Occlumency in the first place Sirus, Ron and Hermione would still be here. If it meant gritting his teeth and following Snape’s orders he could do that. So he nodded and Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes said his goodbye as Harry escorted him to the floo.
***
Snape still carried around calming draughts and not just the normal calming potions but extremely strong ones. Even his now drug induced chipperness Harry realized he had been so very wrong; there was at least one person that was just having as hard a time as he was. Harry took a few small bites of his mash potatoes before turning back to Snape as if to say ‘Is that better’. The man didn’t say anything but nodded and turned back to his own meal. The rest of the meal passed in silence and by the time Harry had made it back to his room that evening the effect of the potion had worn him out completely and he collapsed into bed.
Harry woke up the next morning after a long uninterrupted sleep probably thanks to the calming potion. Something he hadn’t had since being dosed with dreamless sleep for the first weeks after the battle. As he went to tidy up for breakfast even the mirror was shocked.
“Look at you deary! You’re eyes haven’t looked that light in ages.” Harry rolled his eyes at it and went down to breakfast. It was still a bit early, but the Hall was packed. No doubt everyone excited to get a routine back now that they truly had nothing else to worry about.
After he’d nibbled on a piece of toast for a while, the Hall started clearing and he realized it was about time for classes. McGonagall dropped by his chair on her way out.
“Are you all set Mr Potter?”
“Yes professor.” She told him to follow her and they made their way to the class room.
The students stared in complete awe of him when he entered the class room behind McGonagall. But as the lesson began her attention was eventually won over and he stayed at the back of the class until he was called forward.
“Now, if you all pay attention, Mr. Potter will show you one of the highlights of transfiguration.”
Harry took his place next to her at the front and taking a look around to make sure he had enough room and transformed. Soon enough in place of his short and awkward body stood a large white lion. The students applauded and McGonagall gave him a pat on the head with a ‘good job’ making him roll his eyes eliciting a few giggles from the students.
McGonagall asked him to stay like that for a few minutes while she explained about markings and registration. He sat tall curling his tail about him twitching the tip and watching McGonagall as she lectured.
“You’ll notice that Mr. Potter’s form has certain aspects uncharacteristic of his lion form. Can anyone list them?”
The students were hesitant at first ‘just like we had been’ Harry thought ‘except Hermione of course’. Eventually a few put up their hands and the list was started. One girl said that his mane wasn’t supposed to be black; another mentioned his lighting bolt scar and a boy, whose last name as it happens was Skeeter, making Harry snort when McGonagall called on the boy, earning Harry a very pointed glare, but the student rightly mentioned Harry’s still bright green eyes.
Thankfully none of the students mentioned any of his other scars that littered his body, his almost emaciated state or at least they weren’t given chance to as McGonagall told him to change back. The class at the direction of McGonagall thanked Harry for his display and he left. As he walked away from the classroom with a feeling of muted accomplishment he paused for a moment as a thought flitted across his mind. ‘Those children could live now. He helped keep them alive. The dead had given life for each one of them’. It was an idea that should have given him a purpose, made him feel like it was okay to be alive, but by the time he turned into the next corridor of the castle it was gone and something deep inside his chest still hurt.
Harry spent the rest of the day by the lake with a note book in hand. There was so much up there in his head that he needed some way to get rid of the jumble. First he made a scribble at the top then decided to write the date. September 2nd 1998. He stared at it, then back at the scribble. It looked a bit like a flobberworm so he put a few legs on it to make it look more like a kneazle. He made a list of things he was thinking of but it only lead to a bunch of over emotional drivel that held none of the power or depth that he needed and wanted it to. Annoyed at himself Harry banished the book to his rooms and transformed into his lion form and wandered the grounds chasing rabbits and the odd kneazle. When he did return to his rooms it was well after dinner but he’d been to breakfast fulfilling Dumbledore’s meal attendance criteria.
***
That night Harry lay in bed replaying the events of the day remembering every face in that transfiguration class staring up at him in awe. So young and innocent, malleable and sponge like - everything he was no longer, though innocent was probably something he’d never had been. But now that he’d given those children the ability to be all those things without fear, what was he? What could he be after losing so much? As the thoughts swirled about in his head it was quickly becoming too much. The space of the room seemed to be inching closer and closer. The darkness and emptiness weigh down every inch of him. As his breaths started coming in shorter gasps Harry leapt out of bed and headed for the door and the silent open corridors before he could suffocate in the darkness.
The cold air in the halls hit Harry like a giant breathe of relief. It ruffled his hair slightly as he started walking down to the main doors. When he reached them instead of leaving the castle he went into the great hall. It would be rare to see the hall empty during the day now that the students were back. Even during the summer with all the rebuilding that was going had been going on there was always a group here at one time or another. But now it was just him. The faint glow that came from the starscape now on display on the illusioned ceiling was mesmerizing. With a small smile on his face now Harry hopped up on one of the long tables, the one that in the coming months would be filled with a bunch of Hufflepuffs, and laid on his back with his legs dangling over the edge to get lost in counting shooting stars.
At some point between drifting in and out of a light doze Harry had lost track of his counting and of time when he was jolted out of his thoughts by a shadow that suddenly appeared at his elbows and a voice whose words rolled over him leaving a shiver in their wake.
“But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds will separate between him and what he touches.”
Harry's pulse quickened at the words. Something in them resonated deeply and he felt something settle in his chest. When Harry sat up Snape was standing beside him and looking up at the ceiling as well.
“Evening Professor Snape.”
“Try good morning Mr. Potter, it is nearing on dawn.” The man looked to him; his tunnel like dark eyes seemed to asses him in the dim light. When Harry was younger they always seemed so cold but at that moment there was something else in them. It wasn't as extreme as warmth but it was something.
A soft, half-hearted ‘oh’ escaped Harry even though he wasn’t surprised. “Why are you up so early, sir?”
“Why are you up so late Mr. Potter?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Harry looked up at the man. In the slowly rising dawn light he could now make out the man’s face. Just as sallow and thin, his nose as evident as ever but the black hair was now marred by a few flicks of grey. The older man gave him a pointed expression and a slightly raised brow that was completely Snape-ish; he was obviously not to keen on sleeping as well.
“What was that?” Harry asked turning his eyes back to the ceiling for a moment.
“Emerson.”
Snape started walking up to his place at the head table, and Harry noticed that settings were slowly appearing at the tables so he began his own ambling way up to the table. Harry hesitantly took the chair next to Snape that he had sat in the night before.
“Do you mind, sir?”
“If you must.” And the older man busied himself to getting his cup of tea in order, of which one also appeared in front of Harry. The clinking of spoons and the slight sips of tea were gratingly intimate and sounds that when eating in a hall full of people you never hear. But now, just him and Snape it was unsettling. Frankly, even more so was the geniality of their exchange.
“Emerson, was he a Wizard?”
“No.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“Are you truly interested?” Snape turned his eyes on the younger man, reading him. Harry replied with a curt nod and wondered what Snape saw when he looked at him.
“Well, it seems that not all hope is lost on you Potter. It seems you’ve developed an interest in philosophy.” Snape snorted. “The general thought is that to discover yourself, and the true nature of man you must remove from society and culture. Look to nature as a moral, ethical guide because it is society that turns us into monsters… or saviours.”
“You’re not a monster.” Harry said quietly, but it earned him nothing but a glare.
They were both silent for a moment and Harry thought about the words and his brow furrowed. “So, if that’s something the war completely prevented, where does that leave people like us? I mean, do normal people actually think on that level?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, Potter.”
Once again, Harry looked at Snape in a new light. They were the same. Both free for the first time, but floundering around trying to find that guide, that hold on this new world that will allow them to continue on.
“Is it possible to do it? I mean, for people like us.”
Snape shifted uncomfortably when Harry said ‘us’ but did not answer for a long while. Harry didn’t push him but before the older man left as the first group of students walked in, a bunch of Ravenclaws with books to read during their own repast.
“Potter, we are not the same. Is it possible for you? I do not know. For myself I cannot see another way.” And with that he left Harry alone to figure out the meanings of his words.
Harry stayed until Flitwick came in with a cheerful ‘good morning’ and asked if he wouldn’t mind popping into his third year class to help out.
And so it began the new routine of Harry showing up to certain classes to help out or he’d be walking through the halls and run into one of the Professors who’d usher him into their office with offers of tea. Harry would listen politely, nodding and agreeing with what ever they said and take the little pieces of advice they’d give to him, but he’d leave and wander around aimlessly again, wondering how it was that they could all continue on like countless years before; all except Snape.
As caustic as their relationship had been in the past, Snape now a days was more ambivalent than anything else. His temper was still short and he still gave more points to Slytherin than anyone else but his cruelty to Harry was mostly gone especially after that morning.
He left Harry puzzled when ever they interacted now. It was destabilizing and nerve wrecking, yet somehow out of everything that had changed, Snape, like himself, seemed to be left behind. The two men would cross paths every so often in the middle of the night, but then it was only a nod between two war weary men with too many memories for sleep to hold them. There were never really any other exchanges of philosophies or pleasantries until a few days before Halloween.
***
PART 2