Springfic: "When Teachers Were Heroes" for alexajohnson
Title: When Teachers Were Heroes
Author: Magentabear
Recipient: alexajohnson
Character(s): Hermione, Snape, McGonagall
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,700 words
Warnings (highlight to view): none
Summary: Some lessons even the most eager students never wanted to learn.
Author's Notes: Enjoy!
Betas: Much thanks to B.
When Teachers Were Heroes
When she was eleven years old and teachers were heroes, Hermione watched them eating together at the head table and wondered what they were talking about. She wondered about their private jokes (for surely friends have private jokes, right?) and what they said about the students and whether they liked her. It never occurred to her that they might not like each other.
But then Snape tried to kill Harry, but then she was wrong and he saved him, but then she wasn't and he killed Dumbledore but then she was wrong again and somehow McGonagall got old and somewhere along the way she realized that teachers are just people.
She cried.
Hermione cried too often for too many people during that war (it was war, after all) but none of the tears were quite as devastating as those tears she cried on the day she saw her professors for what they were. They were just people, not super heroes with the power to know everything and save everyone. She felt so betrayed. Because if Professor Trelawney was a fake, who else was? And if one of those fakes was capable of murder, who wasn't?
She often wondered how Professor McGonagall reacted when she discovered one of her students was to become a professor. What did she say to the new Professor Snape before his first lesson? Did she smile and wish him good luck? Or did she tell him he deserved anything they might throw at him? Because Professor Snape, Hermione suspected from a very young age, had not been an easy student.
But whatever student he may have been, young Hermione had told herself, the day he was hired as a Hogwarts professor must have been a turning point. It probably changed his whole life. Whatever he had been before-and even in her most innocent moments she suspected it had been something disagreeable-all that changed the moment he became a potions master. So when Professor McGonagall greeted Hogwart's newest teacher he probably bore no resemblance to the student he had once been.
She amended that thought after seeing some pictures of his younger years.
Apparently student-Snape was no more adept at hair care than teacher-Snape. But Hermione never had been a superficial girl and she was perfectly content to believe there was some sort of personal, inner change that came over former students when they became professors. Heroes, she reasoned, didn't necessarily have to look heroic.
Even after Professor Trelawney killed her hero-worship with that stupid globe in that stupid tower, even then she wanted to believe there was a little something extra in her teachers. She watched them carefully, always on the lookout for proof she could, in fact, make pedestals for them.
Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall became her favorite objects of study.
"Good evening, Severus," McGonagall said to him stiffly.
"Minerva," he sneered.
"Can you please pass the peas?"
"Of course."
Exchanges like this fascinated her. She listened to their inflections and considered any extra pauses between the words. They were rude to each other but not really. And they were sitting next to each other, close enough to pass the peas, so how much could they dislike each other? She watched them talking to each other, exchanging insults about their Houses, and began to suspect they disliked each other less than they pretended.
Hermione wasn't eleven anymore and she didn't think teachers were heroes but she did believe in knowledge. She did believe that her professors knew more than her and she had to believe that bonded them to each other. She refused to think otherwise.
She overheard a conversation once that gave her hope. It was the beginning of her sixth year, just before the world truly darkened.
"It's a whole new year, Severus," Professor McGonagall said as they walked through the halls.
"It's good to be back," he responded. There was no sneer. Hermione nearly dropped her books in shock but instead said a quick Silencing Charm on herself and moved closer.
"And it's nice to have students again, too," Professor McGonagall said. "The halls are colder without them, even in summertime."
"Quieter, too." The sneer was back but now-and here Hermione really did drop her books-it was more a playful smirk. She gathered up her belongings and fled before they could see her. She couldn't allow them to see the grin spreading across her face.
They... they were friends. She laughed delightedly to herself. This was even better than heroes.
-
When Severus was eleven and teachers were heroes, he entered Hogwarts more optimistic than he'd ever been before. Here, he would learn something. Here, he would escape his father. Here, he would matter to someone who mattered to the world. Here, he would matter. The teachers would help him, the professors would teach him what he needed to know, and one day he would go back home and make them sorry for… for everything.
He was sorted into Slytherin, of course. Thankfully.
"You know a lot of Dark Magic," Professor McGonagall said to him one cold day in October.
He stared back at her.
"You're only eleven, Mr. Snape. What are you going to do with these spells?"
"Use them," he said. He left out the obviously.
She heard it anyway. "Rest assured, Mr. Snape, if I catch you using one of these spells on our students you will be sorry."
And because teachers were heroes, because they held the keys to the life he wanted, Severus listened. He didn't use the spells on his classmates. Oh he used them, of course-how could he not practice these wonderful powers?-but he turned his determination and his rage on the rats that scurried around the dungeons. Hogwarts had never seen such a skillful exterminator before and likely never would again.
He learned so much down there in the dungeons that he stopped needing the teachers. He already had what he wanted, finally had the tools he needed, and the teachers had nothing to show him. The professors became at best frauds and at worst hypocrites. They kept insisting they knew more than him but Severus knew, he just knew, that he would come out the victor in any duel with any of them. He could do more. He knew more.
The professors noticed a change in him. His essays were sloppy and hastily written. The sneers that had always flitted across his face became more pronounced. He glowered at them. He disobeyed them. He ignored them.
Professor McGonagall watched him closely. This, she suspected, would never end well.
-
When Minerva was eleven and teachers were heroes, her parents sat her down at the big oak kitchen table and told her a story about a Roman goddess. Be our goddess, they told her. Be our hero. Make us proud at Hogwarts.
And she did.
A part of her still believed teachers were heroes when she took a job as Transfiguration professor. She was named after the goddess of wisdom, don't forget, and she was terribly clever. She smiled to herself thinking of the lessons she would teach and the students she would inspire.
She never forgave Tom Riddle for using the spells Albus taught him to commit murder and she never forgave the Death Eaters for using her own teachings to harm others. She hated those Death Eaters with a passion that worried her sometimes. But she couldn’t help it. They had perverted her life’s work. The moment they pledged alliance to He Who Must Not Be Named they turned her into a trainer for that monster’s army and there was nothing heroic about that.
Minerva hadn’t become a professor to teach wandwork to future Death Eaters. She wanted to give her students what was good and right and true. She wanted them to take what she taught them and make the world a better place. But she had no control over them, not in the ways that mattered.
"Are you going to take away points, Professor?" Severus asked with that dreadful sneer on his face.
"Yes I am, Mr. Snape, and if I ever catch you doing that to rats again I'll take away a whole lot more," she snapped back.
He was a very difficult student.
"Well, well," he drawled. "I guess you aren't the only one who can take away points now."
"I'm so pleased to welcome you to our staff," she spat out.
He wasn't much easier as a professor.
But they did agree one thing, the Professors McGonagall and Snape. Students were to be taught and taught well. She approved of his discipline. She appreciated that she wasn't the only one with standards. And she welcomed the competition his House brought every year in Quidditch. It was a much more satisfying win when the opponent was skilled.
Severus Snape became something of a balm for her. A prickly, greasy, often annoying one but a balm nonetheless. He had returned to Hogwarts. He had come to Albus. Anyone who gave up a life in the shadow of He Who Must Not Be Named to teach young students how to make healing potions was someone she could work with.
-
Newly re-enrolled Hermione Granger and soon-to-be Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the grave.
"He was a hero, wasn't he?" Hermione whispered.
Silence. The air was damp and cool, not yet warmed from the rising sun.
"You may be right, Ms. Granger," she admitted. "You just may be right."
"I am."
Minerva sighed and knelt down to touch the grave of Severus Snape, former professor and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She'd never liked him much, not really, but no one had sacrificed more than this man and if there was one thing Minerva respected more than knowledge it was sacrifice.
"Goodbye, Severus," she said crisply. "Hogwarts won't be the same without you."
She rose to stand beside her student. They only stayed a moment longer, though, before turning their backs and walking away. Hogwarts was reopening soon and there were still paintings to repair and classrooms to organize and rubble to clear away-and one teaching position still in need of a hero.
Author: Magentabear
Recipient: alexajohnson
Character(s): Hermione, Snape, McGonagall
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,700 words
Warnings (highlight to view): none
Summary: Some lessons even the most eager students never wanted to learn.
Author's Notes: Enjoy!
Betas: Much thanks to B.
When Teachers Were Heroes
When she was eleven years old and teachers were heroes, Hermione watched them eating together at the head table and wondered what they were talking about. She wondered about their private jokes (for surely friends have private jokes, right?) and what they said about the students and whether they liked her. It never occurred to her that they might not like each other.
But then Snape tried to kill Harry, but then she was wrong and he saved him, but then she wasn't and he killed Dumbledore but then she was wrong again and somehow McGonagall got old and somewhere along the way she realized that teachers are just people.
She cried.
Hermione cried too often for too many people during that war (it was war, after all) but none of the tears were quite as devastating as those tears she cried on the day she saw her professors for what they were. They were just people, not super heroes with the power to know everything and save everyone. She felt so betrayed. Because if Professor Trelawney was a fake, who else was? And if one of those fakes was capable of murder, who wasn't?
She often wondered how Professor McGonagall reacted when she discovered one of her students was to become a professor. What did she say to the new Professor Snape before his first lesson? Did she smile and wish him good luck? Or did she tell him he deserved anything they might throw at him? Because Professor Snape, Hermione suspected from a very young age, had not been an easy student.
But whatever student he may have been, young Hermione had told herself, the day he was hired as a Hogwarts professor must have been a turning point. It probably changed his whole life. Whatever he had been before-and even in her most innocent moments she suspected it had been something disagreeable-all that changed the moment he became a potions master. So when Professor McGonagall greeted Hogwart's newest teacher he probably bore no resemblance to the student he had once been.
She amended that thought after seeing some pictures of his younger years.
Apparently student-Snape was no more adept at hair care than teacher-Snape. But Hermione never had been a superficial girl and she was perfectly content to believe there was some sort of personal, inner change that came over former students when they became professors. Heroes, she reasoned, didn't necessarily have to look heroic.
Even after Professor Trelawney killed her hero-worship with that stupid globe in that stupid tower, even then she wanted to believe there was a little something extra in her teachers. She watched them carefully, always on the lookout for proof she could, in fact, make pedestals for them.
Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall became her favorite objects of study.
"Good evening, Severus," McGonagall said to him stiffly.
"Minerva," he sneered.
"Can you please pass the peas?"
"Of course."
Exchanges like this fascinated her. She listened to their inflections and considered any extra pauses between the words. They were rude to each other but not really. And they were sitting next to each other, close enough to pass the peas, so how much could they dislike each other? She watched them talking to each other, exchanging insults about their Houses, and began to suspect they disliked each other less than they pretended.
Hermione wasn't eleven anymore and she didn't think teachers were heroes but she did believe in knowledge. She did believe that her professors knew more than her and she had to believe that bonded them to each other. She refused to think otherwise.
She overheard a conversation once that gave her hope. It was the beginning of her sixth year, just before the world truly darkened.
"It's a whole new year, Severus," Professor McGonagall said as they walked through the halls.
"It's good to be back," he responded. There was no sneer. Hermione nearly dropped her books in shock but instead said a quick Silencing Charm on herself and moved closer.
"And it's nice to have students again, too," Professor McGonagall said. "The halls are colder without them, even in summertime."
"Quieter, too." The sneer was back but now-and here Hermione really did drop her books-it was more a playful smirk. She gathered up her belongings and fled before they could see her. She couldn't allow them to see the grin spreading across her face.
They... they were friends. She laughed delightedly to herself. This was even better than heroes.
-
When Severus was eleven and teachers were heroes, he entered Hogwarts more optimistic than he'd ever been before. Here, he would learn something. Here, he would escape his father. Here, he would matter to someone who mattered to the world. Here, he would matter. The teachers would help him, the professors would teach him what he needed to know, and one day he would go back home and make them sorry for… for everything.
He was sorted into Slytherin, of course. Thankfully.
"You know a lot of Dark Magic," Professor McGonagall said to him one cold day in October.
He stared back at her.
"You're only eleven, Mr. Snape. What are you going to do with these spells?"
"Use them," he said. He left out the obviously.
She heard it anyway. "Rest assured, Mr. Snape, if I catch you using one of these spells on our students you will be sorry."
And because teachers were heroes, because they held the keys to the life he wanted, Severus listened. He didn't use the spells on his classmates. Oh he used them, of course-how could he not practice these wonderful powers?-but he turned his determination and his rage on the rats that scurried around the dungeons. Hogwarts had never seen such a skillful exterminator before and likely never would again.
He learned so much down there in the dungeons that he stopped needing the teachers. He already had what he wanted, finally had the tools he needed, and the teachers had nothing to show him. The professors became at best frauds and at worst hypocrites. They kept insisting they knew more than him but Severus knew, he just knew, that he would come out the victor in any duel with any of them. He could do more. He knew more.
The professors noticed a change in him. His essays were sloppy and hastily written. The sneers that had always flitted across his face became more pronounced. He glowered at them. He disobeyed them. He ignored them.
Professor McGonagall watched him closely. This, she suspected, would never end well.
-
When Minerva was eleven and teachers were heroes, her parents sat her down at the big oak kitchen table and told her a story about a Roman goddess. Be our goddess, they told her. Be our hero. Make us proud at Hogwarts.
And she did.
A part of her still believed teachers were heroes when she took a job as Transfiguration professor. She was named after the goddess of wisdom, don't forget, and she was terribly clever. She smiled to herself thinking of the lessons she would teach and the students she would inspire.
She never forgave Tom Riddle for using the spells Albus taught him to commit murder and she never forgave the Death Eaters for using her own teachings to harm others. She hated those Death Eaters with a passion that worried her sometimes. But she couldn’t help it. They had perverted her life’s work. The moment they pledged alliance to He Who Must Not Be Named they turned her into a trainer for that monster’s army and there was nothing heroic about that.
Minerva hadn’t become a professor to teach wandwork to future Death Eaters. She wanted to give her students what was good and right and true. She wanted them to take what she taught them and make the world a better place. But she had no control over them, not in the ways that mattered.
"Are you going to take away points, Professor?" Severus asked with that dreadful sneer on his face.
"Yes I am, Mr. Snape, and if I ever catch you doing that to rats again I'll take away a whole lot more," she snapped back.
He was a very difficult student.
"Well, well," he drawled. "I guess you aren't the only one who can take away points now."
"I'm so pleased to welcome you to our staff," she spat out.
He wasn't much easier as a professor.
But they did agree one thing, the Professors McGonagall and Snape. Students were to be taught and taught well. She approved of his discipline. She appreciated that she wasn't the only one with standards. And she welcomed the competition his House brought every year in Quidditch. It was a much more satisfying win when the opponent was skilled.
Severus Snape became something of a balm for her. A prickly, greasy, often annoying one but a balm nonetheless. He had returned to Hogwarts. He had come to Albus. Anyone who gave up a life in the shadow of He Who Must Not Be Named to teach young students how to make healing potions was someone she could work with.
-
Newly re-enrolled Hermione Granger and soon-to-be Headmistress Minerva McGonagall stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the grave.
"He was a hero, wasn't he?" Hermione whispered.
Silence. The air was damp and cool, not yet warmed from the rising sun.
"You may be right, Ms. Granger," she admitted. "You just may be right."
"I am."
Minerva sighed and knelt down to touch the grave of Severus Snape, former professor and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She'd never liked him much, not really, but no one had sacrificed more than this man and if there was one thing Minerva respected more than knowledge it was sacrifice.
"Goodbye, Severus," she said crisply. "Hogwarts won't be the same without you."
She rose to stand beside her student. They only stayed a moment longer, though, before turning their backs and walking away. Hogwarts was reopening soon and there were still paintings to repair and classrooms to organize and rubble to clear away-and one teaching position still in need of a hero.