Amazing Grace
The First Year
He couldn't believe it. Ten years after all that had happened, there was the little Potter child. He had been expecting her to at least resemble Lily somewhat, but no. Of course not. Why would Fate be that kind?
The girl had a mop of unruly jet-black hair that hung just past her shoulders and had her father's face… except for her eyes. She had Lily's eyes, which were luckily not covered by glasses like those that her father had always worn in school. She was nervous, normal for any incoming first-year, especially one who had not grown up with magical parents. A fleeting thought that allowed for a bit of pity before he squashed it forcefully. He would have no feelings for this child. This was James Potter's sole heir; the child was bound to be more like him anyway.
He watched the Sorting without interest until the little girl that would one day be the bane of his existence stumbled over to the stool holding the dirty old Sorting Hat. He noticed how stunted the girl was even more now that the Sorting Hat covered her entire face; only her little stub of a chin stuck out at the bottom.
The sallow-faced, crooked-nosed man looked down at his watch, wondering how long it would take. Forty-five seconds already…
Less than ten seconds later, the Hat declared her a Gryffindor, and an old pain returned to the man's unusually cold heart. In his mind, he could see his best friend getting sorted into that House as well. He knew he would never fit in with that House, so he went to the only place that that would be possible: Slytherin. He took her friendship for granted, he thought mournfully, and now he would have to watch her only child live through almost the exact same life she had… except that the child didn't have a friend who was a Slytherin. Not that he could tell, at least.
He shook his head slightly at the child's name: Delilah Odette Potter. He knew that Potter had chosen the girl's middle name, and he felt almost certain that Lily had picked out such a Muggle name, such a lovely name.
This dark, sinister man regarded her throughout most of the meal. She seemed upbeat and spunky, talking animatedly with her fellow housemates. She looked up at him once, and those eyes made his heart skip a beat; he kept his eyes off of her the rest of the night.
He didn't see her again until their first Potions class together. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no, they weren't. She was sitting in-between one of his Slytherins, Daphne Greengrass, and another Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom. Her hands had slipped behind her head with grace, an easy grin upon her face, as she spoke amicably with both of the students.
He felt such a wave of anger and nostalgia as he remembered Potter being in that exact same position so often years before.
As always, he started class by calling roll, pausing at the girl's name, intending to knock her off her golden Gryffindor chariot.
"Miss Potter, our new celebrity," he remarked slowly with a sneer. She narrowed her eyes, unsure of what he was on about.
"Tell me, what is the difference between asphodel and monkshood?"
She shrugged.
"When I ask you a question, Miss Potter, I expect an answer," he said testily.
Her gaze flitted over to Miss Greengrass before replying, "I don't know."
Anger filled him at her blatant disrespect. "I don't know what?" he prompted.
She shot back snarkily, "I don't know what you don't know."
"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Potter. You will address me by either Sir or Professor when responding to any question or making a request of me. Am I understood, Miss Potter?"
Anger blazed through her eyes at having points subtracted, "Perfectly… sir."
The rest of class went smoothly, but he noticed that the girl stayed tense throughout the entire class, positively bristling when he would sweep past.
He had to admit; the child definitely had her mother's aptitude for Potions. It was unfortunate that she was so rebellious though. Lily never acted like that, no, that was definitely a Potter gene.
As were the blatant disregard for the rules; she had been accepted onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their Seeker after showing off in Flying class.
He saw her broomstick arrive; he quickly made his way to McGonagall and demanded to know what the meaning of it was. She had smiled sweetly at him and asked if he was afraid of a challenge this year.
How dare she intentionally put the child at risk when she barely knew anything about the wizarding world, let alone Quidditch. He had brought this matter up with Dumbledore, but the old man had only smiled and let his eyes do that damned twinkling thing.
Determined to set this right, he called a meeting with his House's Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint. He alerted him to the fact that a certain first-year would be playing as Gryffindor's new Seeker, and Flint would make sure to put this player out of commission enough to where she would never want to touch another broomstick. Flint had grinned evilly and promised his professor that it was as good as done.
Halloween was nothing special until damn Quirrell came running into the Great Hall at dinner, yelling about some troll. He knew immediately that it was some sort of ploy, though he didn't doubt the sincerity of it. He watched as the other teachers rushed to the dungeons and all the students took off for their dormitories. Wondering at the sense of Dumbledore sending his little snakes down to greet the troll, he cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and watched Quirrell get up, grin wildly, and leave the Great Hall.
Walking quickly to keep up with that crazy Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he thought about why Quirrell might be heading to the third floor corridor that was off-limits. Why did he need to be anywhere near the Stone?
Somehow he lost him, and while trying to find him again, he heard two very high-pitched screams. Against all of his better judgment, he full out ran to the source of the noise. He came to the door of a girls' bathroom from where the screams of terror were still coming.
He barged in, quickly accessing the scene: Granger and the Potter brat huddled together in a corner, trying to not get flattened by the enormous creature that was towering above them.
He drew his wand quickly, bringing the troll down in just two casts. The two girls were clinging to each other, tears streaming freely. Well, he thought sardonically, at least she doesn't have her father's unnatural heroic streak. He walked over to the two girls, noticed how much smaller Potter looked when compared to Granger. How odd.
The other teachers arrived then, Minerva at the front.
"Miss Potter! Miss Granger! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, worry and concern etched into her stern face.
The Potter brat stood, letting go of Granger carefully. She wiped her eyes meticulously before replying.
"Professor, Hermione was in here crying because some of the other kids were being mean to her. I came to apologize for them. We didn't know there was a – a – "
"A troll, Miss Potter," he said to her harshly. Perhaps too harshly, if that look Minerva gave him was any indication.
"Yes, that," she said, wiping her nose for any lingering bogies.
"Well, get on up to your dormitory then." Minerva watched them as they walked out of the girls' bathroom before saying, "The feast is being held in each individual common room, girls, so you can get something to eat."
He looked down at the troll, trying to rid his mind of the hurt expression he'd seen in Lily's eyes tonight. A hurt he had caused.
The day of the Slytherin-Gryffindor match dawned bright and clear. He watched the girl fly around the upper part of the stadium, trying to stay out of the way. He smirked, knowing it was no good; he had seen the attack Flint had put together. However, his smirk disappeared when he noticed that that brat was no longer in control of her broom. She was gripping it tightly, unsure of what was happening.
He saw Flint move in for the attack; seconds later, the girl was bucked from her broom, holding on by only one hand. The V-shaped Slytherin team hit their target then, causing her to go flying, screaming all the while. He didn't even think until she had slowed down right before hitting the ground, and he realized he had done that and slowly lowered his wand.
The next thing that happened riled him however. Somehow, on the brat's freefall towards the ground, she had caught the Snitch. Of all the luck, he thought angrily while sweeping out of the teachers' box back towards the dungeons, leaving the brat waving her arm around happily while her team surrounded her in joy.
"Potter! What are you doing out at this time of night?"
It was Christmas holidays already and little Miss Potter brat decided to have a nice midnight stroll through the castle.
She knew she'd been caught too; there was a look of fear in her eyes, but also… that lingering resentment. It was as if she knew something about him that she couldn't possibly know. It was in her eyes every time she looked at him, and he wasn't sure if it had to do with his current attitude and his handling of her, or if she had actually been on the receiving end of some of the legendary Potter Sight. At one time, they were very powerful Seers, but that had died out centuries ago, or perhaps it was just dormant.
He grabbed her arm and marched her straight down to his office. He pushed her down onto the rigid wooden chair he kept for the purpose of punishing students before deftly retrieving a quill and small scroll.
"Name: Delilah Potter," he spat. "Date: December 20th, 1991. Crime: wandering the corridors at night. Punishment," he paused thoughtfully, looking at her again.
She glared at him malevolently, a look he had most definitely seen on Lily Potter's face too often in those later years. He delved into her mind briefly, looking at what he could use against her before realizing he was seeing things he really didn't want to see.
Delilah was running across a playground, chased by a gang of boys. They cornered her once they hit the streets in an alley. The boys were about the same age as her, but the things they said to her were far above any of their years.
"Potter! I heard your mum used to lift her skirt for all the men! How about you do the same? It's all you're good for anyways!" They jeered at her, pushing her into the walls of the alley, occasionally slipping a hand up her too-large shirt or down her oversized pants.
She was crying, wishing that someone would come to her rescue, but no one came. Eventually, she just curled up into a little ball, and the terrorizing boys left. She couldn't go home, but she had nowhere else to go. Her sobs became more ragged until she finally lost consciousness.
He withdrew, wanting to forget what he'd just witnessed. He looked into her eyes, her Lily-eyes, and saw tears; he remembered that those on the receiving end of Legilimancy almost always recounted the memory along with the caster. He just hadn't expected that to come up.
"Punishment: a week's worth of detention with Filch."
As time went by, he still couldn't manage to get that image of the Potter brat out of his head. Where were her guardians when this was going on, and wasn't one of those boys her cousin? He shook his head in disgust at what kind of family life Lily's child had had while growing up. He thought that he should perhaps check up on the situation, but he stopped himself; that was what Minerva and Albus were there for. They were responsible for the brat.
Leaning his head against the wall behind his chair inside his overly-sparse office, he listened to the clock tick itself to a new year. He raised his eyes when it was on its last thirty seconds, recalling a very lovely memory from his fourth year…
There was no shortage of champagne at this New Year's Party. He was spending it with Lily and her family. Petunia had disappeared as soon as he had arrived, complaining of a headache. Of course, he knew it was because of her deeply rooted hatred for him. Ever since that tree branch incident, he thought ruefully. It didn't matter; he was right where he wanted to be, right next to his green-eyed beauty of a best friend.
She'd been drinking and would occasionally clutch at him to prevent ending up on the floor. She kept laughing it off, but then again, she was laughing at pretty much everything. Even he thought it was pretty funny.
"Ten!" her parents called. Lily looked at him, smiling.
"Nine!" She took a step closer.
"Eight!" She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Seven!" She leaned close to his ear and whispered, "You're my very best friend."
"Five!" He considered this before leaning closer to her too.
"Four!" "And you're mine too, Lily."
"Two!" She hugged him tightly; he felt horrible at being put in the friend category again.
"One!" She pulled away slightly.
"Happy New Year!" She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He felt pain gnawing at his chest; he knew it was just the alcohol that made her do that. She leaned against his chest and sighed contentedly, swaying slightly with the music that was blaring from the television.
The clock was now ten seconds past. Happy New Year, Severus.
He so often found those two girls interacting together. The brat acted just like her mother most of the time, being friends with the friendless Muggleborn. Of course, there were many differences between these two girls' friendship and the friendship he shared with Lily. However, he couldn't deny, no matter how hard he tried, that there were similarities. The most obvious was how quick the brat was to defend her new friend, from Housemate and others alike.
"Hey Bucktooth, why don't you go back to your Muggle parents? We don't want you here!"
He listened to the quiet jeers that were just barely echoing around the steamy Potions classroom. He definitely didn't miss the quiet hiss back:
"Why don't you go swim with the giant squid, Malfoy?"
He couldn't help the small smirk appear on his face as he remembered Lily saying almost that exact same thing to the brat's father once, long ago.
He had already noticed that she had a natural affinity for Potions just like her mother, and along with Granger, they were easily the best partners in his first-year Slytherin-Gryffindor class. He wondered vaguely how she was faring in her other classes.
The next Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch game was coming up soon. He was not attending as Slytherin was not playing, and he really couldn't care less about Quidditch. He was already planning on visiting Aberforth for some much-needed firewhisky.
"Severus?"
He looked up at Minerva, blinking slowly before saying, "Is there something you need, Minerva?"
She pursed her lips and started, "I know you know something about what's going on with Quirinus. What is it?"
He rubbed his temples gently, "It is my belief that he is after the Stone, but for what reason, I cannot tell."
"I thought as much as well, just wanted to know if you might have heard something." He inclined his head towards her as she swept out of his office, pausing at the door, "Also, a couple of students came forward today to tell me that they were certain that you were going to steal the Stone. I do not know how they know about the Stone, Severus, but perhaps this should give you some cause for concern."
He smirked slightly before replying, "And who were these students?"
"Delilah Potter and Hermione Granger." Shit.
He held onto her unconscious body, wondering why she had come tonight. He glanced over at the ashes that he was certain was Quirrell, and knew that the Dark Lord was still with them. Not alive, but hovering between life and death.
His eyes came back to rest on little brat Potter, but at this moment, he couldn't help but think how like Lily she was. Not physically, especially since he couldn't see her eyes, but this one weak moment; Potter would never have allowed himself to be rendered unconscious. Not that Lily was weak, far from it in fact, but she was definitely able to be hurt.
He picked her up, noting with distaste that she couldn't have weighed more than 30 kilos. She felt like a ragdoll in his arms as he began to make his way out of the puzzled corridor.
He had already directed Miss Granger to the hospital wing, and though she appeared to want to disagree, his scowl made her think twice about talking back.
The little girl in his arms moaned lightly, her brow furrowed in pain. Her eyes even opened at some point, but he knew that she had no way to recognize what was happening; she was still unconscious, but it gave him a nice long look at her vivid, green eyes. Why were they so haunting?
He sat by her side until she began to come to – which was three days later. He couldn't afford for her to see him there. He'd made sure that no one was able to get past the curtain that covered her bed though he did hear many well-wishers bring little treats, placing them outside the curtain reverently.
Madam Pomfrey had bustled in several times a day, always shooting furtive glances at him as though trying to tell him to leave even though she would never ask that of him. She knew what he'd been through.
He saw her eyes flutter open, just as his were beginning to close from exhaustion, before he was dragging himself out of the hospital wing. She had seen him, but hopefully it would not be anywhere on her mind more than on the outskirts of her unconscious. He sent a quick Patronus to Dumbledore; he had wanted to speak with her before she was allowed visitors. He could only imagine how that conversation would go.
Once he got back to his quarters, he simply collapsed onto his large four-post bed, knowing that the elves would have food for him when he woke. What luck that his apprentice was already ready to take on most of his classes, even if that little twerp did have several more years before she could even think about teaching full-time.
His favorite day of the year: final exams. It was always so interesting how many students he could scare badly enough that their own sweat would ruin their results. He positively snarled when little brat Potter came walking up with Granger and their perfect results. He could already tell; their Forgetfulness Potion was the perfect shade of pale yellow. Even young Draco had had difficulty and made his a bit too pale.
They swept out of the Potions classroom, pulling their messy hair out of rubber bands anxiously and, by the looks of how many books they had in their bags, heading off to the library where he knew they spent most of their time.
He didn't see her again that year, except at the End-of-the-Year Feast, but that hardly counted; she didn't look at him once.
As he watched the train pull out from the Hogsmeade station, his mind wandered to a sketchy little inn near the end of Knockturn Alley where he would spend that night holed up with some voluptuous wench who hadn't had enough talents to make something worthwhile of herself. He could already envision giving her dark, auburn hair... and eyes that had haunted him all year in one underfed first-year.
