Written for:
Quidditch Fanfiction League competition Round 3
Team: Chudley Cannons
BEATER 1: The Raqs Sharki of Egypt; write about a character who comes to respect someone they didn't previously.
Optional prompts:
12. (object) journal 15. (quote) "What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Aristotle 6. (quote) "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Eleanor Roosevelt
The notebook
Harry was lying in his bed, his mind wandering through the events of the past months. The war was over, Voldemort was vanquished and the wizarding world has found its peaceful days. On his nightstand stood a picture - the only picture he had - of his parents, James and Lily Potter. His eyes shifted from the dancing lights on the ceiling to the framed, moving picture. Since he learned about his and his parents' magical existence when he was eleven years old, he considered them heroes. After all, didn't they give their life to save his, never fearing to stand up to the most powerful dark wizard their world has even known?
But then he grew up. He eventually realized that he had stopped looking up to them with innocent, childish eyes and seeing them as powerful heroes, and started acknowledging their human - although no less powerful - nature. He must have been fifteen when he first realized it. He saw his father not as the generous and thoughtful man he thought he was, but as a bully. One arrogant, overly confident bully.
He had held this anger within his heart for months, and then the pain started to fade. Days would pass without him thinking of this painful scene where his own father and his friends would humiliate his potions professor in front of the entire school.
But then came the day where he had to kill Lord Voldemort, when the said professor, on the edge of death, shared with him the secret to the Dark Lord's defeat, and along some of his own. Never would he have thought that such a friendship would exist between his mother and the greasy dungeon bat, and yet, in front of his eyes it laid. That is, of course, before she turned her back on him because he called her a mudblood.
If Harry could count the times he and Ron had a fight… And yet, they always seemed to find their ways back to one another. His mother's conception of friendship was… disturbing, to say the least.
He stood up from his bed and walked to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and swallowed it in one big gulp. Now that the war was over and no danger was hanging over his head, he wished he could still find a bit of the innocence he had lost when he was way too young. He had lost too many people in his life, but what hurt him the most is loosing the perfect image he had created of his parents.
He truly wished Severus Snape never existed. He did not care how selfish that thought was, but his existence only made him miserable. His father wouldn't have misbehaved if it wasn't for him - Harry himself wished to humiliate him at so many occasions during his stay at Hogwarts - and his mother would probably have had better friends. Come to that, if Snape never existed, James and Lily Potter probably would still be alive !
At this exact moment, an owl flew inside the kitchen. Harry sighed as he looked at the clock hanging on the wall; it was barely six in the morning and he was not in the mood for mail. The owl rested on his shoulder and started to poke gently on his earlobe.
« Alright, alright, I'll take it from you, » he muttered between clenched teeth.
He freed the bird from the package that was tied to his tiny leg and threw it on the kitchen table. The owl immediately left his shoulder to fly around the envelope while making unbearable high pitched noises, and Harry had no choice than to open it to make the bird quiet.
Inside the envelope was a black leathery journal, and a handwritten note :
« This came to my attention very recently. I hope it helps with the anger. MM »
He recognized the handwriting of Hogwart's headmistress, but he didn't understand the meaning of this all. He painfully wanted to go back to bed, but the owl was still staring at him. Obviously, it would not leave him be until he reads the damn thing. He clearly needed something stronger than water.
Harry grabbed a cup of coffee in his right hand and the black book on his left, and settled in a big, comfortable couch that throned in his living room. If Professor McGonagall was indeed the one who sent the owl, opening the book should be safe. The memory of Tom Riddle's diary suddenly popped into his head. Was this object truly safe? Was it really sent by Hogwarts' headmistress? The paranoid feeling that barely ever left him during most of his life reappeared. After all, last time he held a journal that wasn't his resulted in nothing but trouble.
He took his wand out of his pocket and ran a few revealing spells on the journal. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everything was clear.
On the first page of the journal laid one phrase:
This journal belongs to Lily James.
Harry held his breath. How on earth did Professor McGonagall find his mother's diary sixteen years after her death? He took a sip of his coffee, not even realizing he burnt his tongue. His hands were shaking, and he couldn't take his eyes away from the delicate handwriting of Lily Evans.
He turned the pages frantically, and was surprised to see that they were actually blacked out with notes. On one of the pages of the notebook, Lily had carefully written a series of spells Harry never heard about, so he assumed they were of her own making. Page after page, he tried different spells and came to realize that they gave his discoveries a whole other dimension. He heard her speak of her relationship with Aunt Petunia, felt what she felt when she crossed the magical barrier at King's Cross, smelt her first Christmas feast at school. He could understand what everybody said about her; no doubt she was brilliant at charms.
The next page, unlike all the others, was blank. There was only one phrase written right in the center, and two dates :
January 9th, 1974
October 25th, 1975
« What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies » - Aristotle
He quickly went back to the charms page, looking for a spell that would help him discover what has been hidden beneath Aristotle's quote. There was only one he hasn't tried yet.
« Revele Memoris, » he whispered while he pointed his wand at the nearly blank page.
The notebook suddenly left his hands and flew to his face. Harry felt the cold paper against his forehead and realized he couldn't move his hands, or any part of his body for that matter; he was unable to take control over the notebook by himself. So he did the only think he was able to do; he closed his eyes and waited.
He didn't have to wait too long. Merely a second after he closed his eyes, he felt himself leave the couch in which he was sitting. He opened his eyes quickly; he was in Hogwarts. So now, he could see her memories.
« Happy birthday, Severus, » he heard from a joyful voice at his left. It was her, Lily, his mother, his no more than fourteen-year-old mother, handing a gift-wrapped package to the thin, dark-haired boy whose birthday it was. He watched as Severus held his mother in a friendly embrace, smiling as he has never seen him smile.
« Well well, look what we have here, Padfoot, » Harry suddenly heard at his left. His father was as usual - he guessed - accompanied by Sirius, Remus and Peter, who looked strangely just as pretentious as the others.
« Isn't this your girlfriend with our dear old friend Snivellus, Prongs ? » Sirius sneakily asked.
« I am neither his girlfriend nor Severus is his friend, » muttered Lily angrily between her clenched teeth. « Now off you go, boys, you've already ruined one minute of my day. »
« So sorry, love, » smiled James as he obviously was not sorry at all. « You see, today is our beloved Snivellus' birthday, and we came bearing gifts. »
Severus chuckled. « I'd rather die than accept anything from you. Let's go, Lily. »
And the two of them turned away from the group and started to walk to the park. Harry heard one of the boys whisper something and a second later, Snape's black robes started to sparkle and to twinkle, and then shifted colors. They were a bright red for a moment, then a flashy pink, than slowly faded to a light blue color. And just when he thought it was over, the colors waltz started again.
« Again, happy birthday, Snivellus! » shouted James with a big smile on his face, making Lily scowling at him.
« Why do you always pick on Snape? You should let him alone for a while. » This was Remus' voice, Harry recognized.
« Because, Moony. I really like the girl! Besides, if she's friends with him, it must mean that our teasings doesn't really offend him, right? »
« What do you mean? »
« That I don't believe his mind is as weak as you think. I think he can handle it. »
And then Harry saw them walk away to the castle.
He ran towards Lily and Snape. His mother had just ended the curse and Snape's robes were back to their black normal state.
« You can't just let them do, Severus. You have to stand up for yourself. »
« Why? I just really don't care. »
« I don't believe you. I think you feel weaker than them. »
« Well, they are four of them, and I'm alone, so… I guess you're right! »
Severus seemed angry now. Lily softened her voice to try to comfort him.
« First, Sev, you're not alone. Second, even if you were, remember that no one can make you inferior without your consent. »
Snape snorted gently.
« And who said that, might I ask? »
« Eleanor Roosevelt, of course! »
« And who might that be? »
Lily gazed at him, irritated. But the boy was smiling.
« Some Muggle female role model, isn't she? »
Harry had to come closer as the voices of his mother and his friend faded away. The park disappeared under his eyes, and all of a sudden his feet hit ground. This time, he was in the dungeons, and he supposed that this memory was the one from 1975.
He immediately saw his mother. She was hiding behind a wall, trying to silent her short breathing.
« If I ever find that mudbood again… »
Harry felt his blood boil at the name. There were two students obviously looking for his mother for whatever reason. One was tall and blond, with a noble face and scanning eyes, while the other was also tall, rather muscular, his black hair cut short around his pug-like face.
« Hey mudblood! We know you can hear us, so hear this. If you continue to come to our part of the castle, meddle with our businesses, or even just hang out with one of ours, you'll regret the day your worthless life started. And if you still continue, your friend Snape will have the pleasure to know how Slytherin's retributions go for blending with mudbloods and muggles. »
And they left.
The expression on Lily's face was heartbreaking. She was clenching to her bag and her eyes were darkened with pain and anger. Harry moved closer, although she couldn't see him nor hear him, but he wanted to comfort her. As he laid a hand on her shoulder, she disappeared, and so did the walls around him, and he suddenly fell back into the comfortable couch he left a few minutes ago.
Harry grabbed the journal and removed it from his face as if it burnt him. As he dropped it on the table, he noticed that the page was starting to fill up with his mother's delicate handwriting.
October 25th, 1975
They want Severus as theirs. His not even sixteen and they are already trying to brainwash him. They know I am a threat to their plan, I will never let him fall into his darkness. He is better than this. I know his is.
They threatened to hurt him if they saw me again with him. We should lay low. I do not want him to be hurt. He is my best friend. I have a plan, I will have to talk to him about it.
October 26th, 1975
Severus didn't like my plan. He said that he did not want to pretend, that he cared for our friendship too much to just pretend we are not friends anymore. He said that he didn't care if he was hurt. But I do.
January 7th, 1976
It is really difficult to be distant with Severus. He doesn't seem to understand, or rather he does, but he doesn't want to let me go. He doesn't want to understand that it is for his own good.
June 15th, 1976
I think Severus hates me now. I tried to defend him against Potter and his friends - who humiliated him again - and he called me a mudblood. He seemed so angry, I have never seen this look on his face. It hurt. It still does, so much. He hates me. But at least he's safe. They won't hurt him.
The writing stopped. Harry felt shame rushing over him for believing his mother was such a bad friend. She did everything she could to keep her friend safe, everything she could think of at fifteen. Clearly it was not perfect; the man still ended up being marked by Voldemort, but how could he be angry at her while his own actions at fifteen resulted in the death of his godfather?
Harry closed the notebook gently. After all, maybe all the anger he kept in his heart towards his father, his mother, and even towards Snape was just a stage in his grieving process. He saw the man who saved his life so many times die before him, he witnessed the man's undying love for his mother take over everything he believed in, even though she pushed him away.
Professor McGonagall was right. He felt his anger disappear, being washed instead by a wave of sadness that made his eyes tear. Severus Snape's actions became more transparent to him; and no matter what his past was, no matter the poor choices he once made, he remains a hero in this war, without whom Harry would never have defeated the wizarding world's enemy.