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Déjà Vu

…and Snape had told the staff precisely what had happened. Harry had already been called out of the common room to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the company of Professor McGonagall, who had told him he was lucky not ho have been expelled and that she supported wholeheartedly Snape's punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term." -HBP, 529

"…Mr. Malfoy was fortunate that someone happened to be passing by. I feel certain that had I, or another professor, not been in the vicinity, Potter could have done him some permanent damage." Snape's retelling of the events ended and the staff room was filled with the sounds of shifting cloaks and uncomfortable coughs. This event was nothing too unusual, but nothing any of the professors particularly enjoyed discussing. After all, student scuffles had ended in injury before, but this…. And to think that it was one of her students. Minerva's lips thinned and her cheeks paled slightly in anger. Why was it that she suddenly felt a strong sense of déjà vu? She rubbed her temples. It's been a long day, she thought.

With Dumbledore absent on another of his mysterious outings (she expected him back any time now) Minerva was heading the staff meeting. Some of the professors were looking her way, clearly eager to be dismissed and return to their work, not overly concerned with the events of the day considering the student in question (who was so often in question these days for careless hexes and jinxes thrown about in the halls) was not a member of their house. She didn't blame them. It would be a relief to just once leave the other heads of houses to deal with their students.

Severus on the other hand was staring at her for a different reason. He looked almost smug and her cheeks paled a little more at this. He had been trying to catch Potter on something for years now. She was a little disappointed that he finally had and frustrated that he was rubbing it in, even if in a nonverbal manner.

She asked to see Severus for a moment and then dismissed the rest of the staff. They filed out in a bit of a bustle and with the general murmur of conversation in which no real words or phrases can be deciphered. When the door had closed with a light snap, Minerva looked up at her younger colleague and paused before speaking. Her voice was brisk as she got right to the point, not liking to dodge around any issue, however unpleasant.

"So, I understand that you have dealt with the situation in terms of Potter's punishment?"

He nodded and the trademark sneer found its familiar way onto his features. "I gave Potter detention this Saturday." He paused. She merely looked at him. "And every Saturday from now until the end of term."

Minerva knew that Severus thought she would feel it unjust that Potter would be, once again, unable to play in the final quidditch match of the year, and to be fair, it was a concern that had jumped to mind. She was disappointed that Gryffindor had a slim chance with their seeker missing once again, but she was more disappointed in her student. She never would have thought it of him. There was a small hope that perhaps she hadn't heard quite the whole story. But there was also the fact that Draco Malfoy was lying in the hospital wing, deep gashes having been healed (to the best of Poppy and Severus's skill) half an hour previously. And there was also the fact that Harry Potter was (as Severus so often insisted) his father's son.

Her matter-of-fact tone when she next spoke however betrayed none of her disappointment as she stood and gathered her papers. "That seems to be quite fitting. I think I'll have a word with Potter myself as well. See you at dinner, Severus." And with that, Minerva headed for the Gryffindor common room for a conversation that she knew neither she nor Potter would enjoy. These types of chats were never pleasant.

As the portrait of the Fat Lady swung forward to admit her, Minerva let her eyes sweep over the common room. Potter was easily spotted slouched in one of the armchairs by the fire. She stepped inside and there was a gradual lull in the conversation. She spoke as though she hadn't noticed this or the fact that most heads were blatantly glancing between her and the armchair that looked as though it was sporting a poorly assembled bird's nest. News certainly traveled fast.

"Potter, I'd like a word."

Heads turned almost as one in the direction of the armchair. Potter didn't turn around, but stiffened and tried to sink out of sight. When he showed no sign of getting up or replying any time soon she said, "Today, Potter," and made to leave the room. He slowly rose from the chair, hands shoved in his pockets, and the student and professor made their way into the corridor. Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger watched their friend go with somber expressions from the couch by the fire.

The whispering in the common room was cut off as the portrait closed and there were a few moments of very tangible silence in which Minerva watched Potter shift under her gaze, simply refusing to make eye contact. Potter wasn't exactly known for his cheery disposition and this occasion didn't seem to warrant any cheerful feelings so his aversion to the obvious topic was understandable.

Looking at him, Minerva had the unmistakable feeling of déjà vu once again and it suddenly seemed not at all long ago that she'd had this kind of disciplinary talk with another Potter with unruly hair and an increasingly cheeky attitude. She'd seen Harry… branching out more this year but not in a… preferred manner. Jinxing fellow students in the hallway, while it got obvious laughs, was hardly beneficial. Minerva's only consolation in this was the fact that he seemed to genuinely regret this most recent incident.

"I've no idea what on earth possessed you to curse another student in the manner you did but-"

At this point Potter looked up indignantly. He was finally looking her in the eye and his expression was set and stoic. It was better than the sulking head bowing in any case. "I didn't know what that curse did! And in my defense, it wasn't exactly unprovoked. Malfoy tried to curse me first."

"I swear, Professor, Snape cursed me first. Sirius can tell you, he was there. Peter was too." A pause. "Besides, he deserved it." A stubborn scowl came over James's face and he scuffed his feet on the stone floor with some frustration. Minerva realized that this would not be a short discussion. Resigning herself to the long haul, she took a deep breath and prepared for anything Potter could dish out.

Minerva brought herself back to the present to see that same stubborn scowl and she had to suppress the urge to sigh at this common excuse. How many times had she heard the "He started it, she started it" argument? It was increasingly tiresome but entirely expected. How original, she thought sarcastically but replied in a flawlessly professional manner.

"Provoked or not, cursing a classmate, especially using a spell you're not familiar with is a serious offense, Potter, and I'll be honest with you when I say that you're lucky not to have been suspended or expelled." Minerva realized that her expression was growing more and more stern throughout this little conversation so far and her tone more biting. Potter was looking at her with a somewhat defiant look on his face now either waiting for her to continue or trying to formulate his next argument. He was avoiding her eyes again, a sign that he realized that his weak argument was losing.

"Malfoy did try to curse me first. You're lucky it's not me lying in the hospital wing."

Yes, well, when wasn't Potter lying in the hospital wing with one injury or another? Often quidditch related. That won't be the case any time soon, Minerva reminded herself and she grimaced slightly at the thought of the upcoming match.

"Would you rather it was me lying in the hospital wing?" Was James's lower lip sticking out? He was not looking for pity. "I mean, Severus" -Minerva fought the urge to snort- "could have done me some serious injury and then I would miss classes and homework and quidditch." That Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game was this weekend. Damn.

No more beautiful quidditch cup in her office… Damn the timing of this! And damn Severus for his Slytherin vindictiveness. She couldn't deny it was a fair punishment however. She mustn't forget the real issue here. There was a boy in the hospital wing. "Professor Snape's punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term is, frankly, light." That was certain. "…And deserved. I wholeheartedly agree with it." Though Gryffindor certainly didn't deserve getting last place in quidditch this year, an unlucky consequence that she didn't bring up out loud. Minerva scowled in frustration and Potter seemed to take it as further disappointment in him. He scowled in return.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Professor. I suppose you had to be there." James nodded in agreement with his own statement but Minerva frowned. "Well, Professor Flitwick was there and he's never been one for exaggeration. What's there to understand other than you hanging Severus Snape by ankle over the lake side?"

"I don't know what else to tell you, Potter. I don't know when I've ever been more ashamed of a Gryffindor student. I just wish I could make you understand how serious this is as your track record with detentions as punishment isn't exactly exceptional." Potter looked as though this last comment was going too far, but he remained silent (with some effort), shifting his weight from one leg to the other and Minerva was struck with the realization that she had said this, the part about being ashamed, to him on more than one previous occasion. He certainly got into a fair bit of trouble. And he was running out of chances so she told him so.

"How many times have we been through this now, James? I'm afraid I lost count somewhere in your fourth year. I'd tell you not to let it happen again, but you don't have a very good track record in that area, do you?" In a stroke of real honesty, James shook his head. In a stroke of real ego, he had a smug smile on her face. Why couldn't she make him realize that he had to grow out of this or it would really become serious. Maybe she knew that he'd turn out alright in the end…

Her voice had become grave rather than angry now, almost making it sound as though she were giving up on him and she could see his regret in his face. "You're reaching the end of your last chance, Potter. Pull anything else like this, and not I, nor anyone else, will be able to pull you out of the whole your digging yourself into." She paused. What else was there to say? He certainly looked guilty now, along with the kind of exhausted look that comes from a particularly long day. Minerva suspected that she looked about the same. She expected him to say something, anything. He half turned back to the portrait hole and said tiredly, "Can I go back to the common room now, Professor?"

Minerva opened her mouth, paused, and then shut it again. It was uncharacteristic of her to have trouble over what to say. She felt as though she should say something to the boy in front of her, the boy that was so similar to one she had known once. The shoulders were a little lower, more worn, and he looked more… tired. But hadn't she been here before?

Minerva felt she should say something more, but merely left James outside the common room with the memory of her stern glare, not wanting him to get any impression that she in any way approved. But she wasn't just a disciplinary figure. She was his head of house and… knew it meant more than just reprimanding him. But Minerva didn't say anything, merely walked the corridors back to her office ready to collapse by the fire after another long day as the disciplinarian.

She felt that her point had made it into Potter's head and decided the coming weekends would certainly be punishment enough. Her role as a disciplinarian was finished for the moment. She nodded at Harry and said, "Get some sleep, Potter. You look awful." Well, it was better than nothing.

And with this, Minerva turned to leave without giving Potter much chance to reply, but he looked as though he was temporarily incapable of speaking. Her pace and posture betrayed her frustration. She heard Potter give the password to the fat lady in an utterly depressed voice and she finally let out the sigh that had been threatening to get out.

It had been a long day. Another long day.