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Challenges listed at the bottom.
Word Count: 5951
Improbable (Nothing Is Impossible)
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Severus rolled his eyes. He could have predicted that, couldn't he? He clapped his hands briefly, snorting quietly when he saw Dumbledore beaming at the boy.
Bloody Potter.
Of course he was a Gryffindor; how could he be anything but when his father was James Potter?
From the corner of his eye, he watched the child walk over to the table and sit down, the other Gryffindors welcoming him heartily. Just before Severus could look away, he found his gaze met with Potter's oddly piercing green eyes.
Lily's eyes, and yet not.
Severus glared at him, unwillingly unnerved when the boy didn't cower or flinch away. Instead, his lips tilted up slightly in a smirk before he nodded and then turned back to the students vying for his attention.
…
"Potter!" Severus snapped, turning with a swish of his cloak to face the boy. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"Draught of the Living Death, Sir. It's a sleeping potion," Potter replied calmly, his eyes bright with what looked like amusement.
Sure that it was a fluke, Severus tried again. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"The stomach of a goat, Sir."
Eyes narrowing, Severus asked a third question. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"It's the same plant, Professor, also known as aconite."
Severus stared at him for a long moment and then glared at the rest of the class. "Well? Why aren't you all writing that down?"
…
With just a little bit of sly questioning, Severus heard the same thing from multiple professors—the Potter boy was brilliant.
Even Minerva was unnerved with his talent, and she usually enjoyed crowing when her lions succeeded in her classes.
She told him in slightly hushed tones about how Potter had turned his match into a needle on his first attempt, waving his wand almost lazily.
His essays too, were well written, well thought out and eloquent in a way Severus didn't often get even from his older students.
It made him wince everytime he had to grant the well deserved Outstandings, the lack of red ink on the parchment offensive to him.
Something was different about Potter, and Severus would find out what it was.
…
They found the troll knocked out, but there was no sign of whoever had taken the beast down. It had certainly put up a fight; the bathroom was utterly destroyed.
"I'll check with the ghosts, see if they can shed any light on what happened here."
Severus nodded at Dumbledore and swept from the bathroom.
When Potter and his little sidekick Weasley showed up the following morning with Granger in tow, Severus had his own thoughts about what had happened in the bathroom.
It didn't make him feel any more comfortable about the boy.
…
Potter strolled into the dungeons for his detention like he didn't have a care in the world. It wasn't even Severus' detention, it was Quirrell's, but the stuttering nightmare had begged Severus to take it over.
How the man thought he could be an effective teacher when he was scared of his own students, Severus didn't know.
"You'll be cleaning cauldrons," Snape said pointedly, glancing at the stack of used cauldrons in the corner.
Potter nodded silently and rolled up the sleeves of his robes as he crossed the room. He quietly filled the waiting tub with water without even asking if he could use magic, and Severus watched him for a long moment before he turned back to his marking.
He was an odd child.
A few hours passed in silence, the only noise coming from the occasionally ding or splash from the corner as Potter worked through the stack.
"You can stop now, Potter," Severus said, his voice travelling in the quiet room. Potter nodded, carefully stacking the ones he'd done. He discarded the water and dried his hands with a spell that he absolutely shouldn't have learnt yet.
He was almost at the door when Severus called his name.
"Yes, Sir?"
"What did you do to land yourself in detention?"
Potter's cheeks coloured slightly and he looked away. "I charmed Professor Quirrell's turban bright pink and gave it a tutu."
Severus blinked. "You can go now, Potter."
We waited, holding his breath until the door closed, before he broke down in hysterical laughter until tears streamed down his face.
A tutu.
Dear Merlin.
…
Despite Severus' suspicions, Potter kept his head down for the most part. There was an occasional prank—Severus would never be able to get the picture of Quirrell's turban wearing a tutu out of his mind—but nothing that made Severus particularly angry.
It was rather surprising actually.
The end of the school year brought a little excitement in the way of Dumbledore sabotaging Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone. He hadn't managed to capture the… whatever form Voldemort had taken, but he seemed quite sure that he'd chased him away for the time being.
Severus was still unsure of the details, but he didn't think he was wrong when he saw the Headmaster watching Potter with a slightly disappointed air at the end of the year feast.
Odd.
…
Lockhart was a problem.
Severus couldn't even deal with the vapid idiot opening his mouth, let alone listen to the words that came out of it.
What in the seventh level of hell was Dumbledore thinking?
Potter seemed to agree. Severus had taken great enjoyment during the summer watching Potter running away from the new Defence professor at Flourish and Blotts, where the idiot had been signing his books for yet more publicity.
As Severus twirled his wand in his fingers, thoughts of murder in his mind as the staff meeting got underway and Lockhart immediately began to tell the other professors how best to teach their subjects, Severus wondered how he was even going to get through the school year.
…
"Potter? What on earth are you doing?"
"Hiding," Potter whispered, poking his head up from behind the plant he was crouched behind in the greenhouse.
Severus had only dropped by to pick up a few ingredients he needed for his fourth year class, and he certainly hadn't expected to find the Boy-Who-Lived spending his lunchtime crouched behind a plant.
"Hiding from what, pray tell?"
Potter scowled. "Professor Lockhart, Sir. He seems determined to offer me advice on my fame, and if it's all the same, I'd really rather not."
"How… interesting," Severus murmured. He was about to speak again when the boy ducked and a ringing voice sounded behind them.
"Severus!" Lockhart greeted heartily. "You haven't seen the Potter child, have you? I told him I'd meet him after his lessons for a small talk, but he seems to have forgotten. The folly of youthful excitement, I'm sure."
"Or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you," Severus pointed out. He heard a tiny squeak of muffled laughter behind him. "Really, Gilderoy, shouldn't you be fixing your hair before your next class?"
Lockhart looked at him aghast. "Is it out of place? Oh dear me, I should… excuse me, Severus."
He scurried off, and as the door to the greenhouse clicked shut, Potter burst out laughing as he stood up.
"That was brilliant, Professor. Thank you."
Severus stared at him for a moment and then huffed. "It didn't come for free. You can help me gather the ingredients I need for my next class."
Potter nodded, surprisingly. He didn't even complain about missing what was left of his lunch hour.
He really was an odd child.
…
Severus had never been more pleased to see the back of a teacher than he was Gilderoy Lockhart. Two weeks before the end of term, the man ran from the grounds, his beautiful hair falling out in clumps behind him, his hands covering his face to hide the boils that had appeared there.
Though he had no idea who, or what, had caused the disfiguration of their Defence professor, Severus rather wished he did—if only so he could send them a bottle of whisky and his most ardent thanks.
…
The news that Black had escaped Azkaban was compounded only by the news that Remus Lupin would be returning to Hogwarts as the new Defence Professor.
Severus sat in his personal chambers, halfway through a bottle of whisky, and cursed Albus Dumbledore to the fiery pits of hell.
Last year, he hadn't believed he could hate a professor more. This year he didn't have to try and believe anything; he already knew that he hated Lupin.
Still, at least he would only be here for a year.
Severus didn't know what he'd do, if Lupin were the one to break the supposed curse.
…
Dumbledore was having a meltdown. The wards at Privet Drive had broken down, and Potter was nowhere to be found.
Severus—surprising himself—was worried about the boy. It wasn't even the promise he'd made to keep Lily's son safe that worried him, he was genuinely concerned for the boy.
Strange, but true.
With Black on the loose, there was no telling what had happened to Potter. Was Black really deranged enough that he'd hurt his godson?
Then again, despite Severus' own feelings, he'd have never, ever believed that Black would do anything to harm Potter Sr, either, and look what had happened there.
"Severus, will you come with me to Privet Drive? We need to try and figure out where Harry is."
"Of course, Headmaster."
…
"Innocent?"
Severus blinked, staring at Sirius Black, who was sitting calmly in a holding cell in the ministry as though he hadn't broken out of Azkaban only weeks before.
Potter stood by the gate, smiling softly.
"Peter Pettigrew was my parents' secret keeper," Potter replied serenely. "And he's still alive. I can prove it."
"Has Black used a confundus on him?" Severus murmured to Albus. "This is surely nonsense."
"My godfather never had a trial," Potter pointed out. "He has the memories to prove his innocence but he was never asked for them. He's already offered to take Veritaserum."
"You said you had proof, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowed. Severus could practically see the gears in his head shifting as he tried to work out just how Potter knew so much.
Severus wouldn't mind answers to that question himself.
Potter nodded. "Mr Weasley is on his way to see Madam Bones. Everything should be cleared up in an hour or two."
…
With the threat of the Dementors being stationed at Hogwarts lifted, the other teachers seemed to breathe a little easier.
Severus was still trying to get his head around sharing the castle with Lupin—particularly when it became clear that Lupin and Black were as close as ever now that Black had proven his innocence. He'd already run into his childhood tormentors whispering together more than once.
Dumbledore had assured him that once the term was in session, Black wouldn't be spending much time on the grounds, but Severus didn't believe him for a second.
After such an utter disaster as imprisoning the head of an Ancient House without a trial, the Ministry and the Wizengamot both were practically falling over themselves to give Black whatever he wanted.
Severus had no doubt that Dumbledore would do the same.
…
Severus watched the class file out, and sighed. He was going to be in trouble, he knew, but if one of them worked it out, it would be worth it.
"You know, Sir, it's unlikely that any of my classmates will figure out that Remus is a werewolf," a voice came from the door.
Severus looked up to see Potter had lingered behind.
"You know?"
"Of course I do," Potter replied. "Even if Sirius hadn't told me already, it's quite obvious that Remus is always ill at the full moon and there are very few afflictions that would cause such a thing. Not to mention that three of the cauldrons I cleaned in detention in November were dirty from brewing Wolfsbane. Who else would you be brewing it for?"
"You haven't said anything to anyone?"
Potter shrugged. "If he's taking his potion, I see no problem with him being here. He's certainly a more competent professor than the two that preceded him."
Severus gaped at him for a moment before he sneered. "Of course that's your opinion. I'm sure Black spoon fed it to you, didn't he?"
Harry shrugged. "Believe what you will, Sir, it makes no difference in the long run. I can tell you that it wouldn't matter who the werewolf was, as long as they took precautions, but it's up to you if you believe me or not. As I said, aside from myself and Hermione, I don't think anyone else will pick up on the hints."
Severus shook his head, because the boy was correct of course.
"Get to your next class, Potter."
Potter bowed his head. "Yes, Sir."
…
The end of the school year came without much pomp. The fifth and seventh years did their exams, the other years did theirs, and Severus let it slip that Lupin was a werewolf at breakfast.
He couldn't stop himself.
When the news spread, the parents in uproar and the school board demanding Remus' removal from the position, Severus knew he should be feeling pleased.
Smug, even.
But the disappointed look in shining green eyes left him feeling oddly empty; the triumph he'd expected to feel missing.
Damn the boy.
…
"Harry Potter!"
Severus blinked. "What?"
His question was echoed around the hall, and heads turned to look at Potter, sitting at the Gryffindor table. The boy arched his eyebrow at the Headmaster.
"Harry. Up… up here if you please. Into the chamber."
Potter shook his head. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you, Headmaster. I didn't put my name into the Goblet."
"Harry, we'll discuss it in the chamber."
Tilting his head, Potter asked, "What is there to discuss, Sir? I didn't submit my name, therefore, I don't have to compete."
"The goblet is an ancient artifact, Potter," Barty Crouch announced, standing up from his place at the end of the bench. "You have no choice, if you'd like to keep your magic."
"With all due respect, Mr Crouch," Potter began, sounding like he didn't think there was much respect due at all, "if the Goblet is an ancient artifact, then it will remove the magic of the person who put the slip inside, will it not? Since that wasn't me, I don't think I have anything to worry about."
"Harry. The chamber," Dumbledore demanded, his eyes sweeping the watching students.
With a sigh, Harry stood up, patting Weasley on the shoulder as he passed him. Severus watched Weasley and Granger stare after him with worried expressions.
Severus couldn't blame them.
…
"I'm not competing," Potter stated, time and time again, to anyone that asked him about the tournament.
Severus had heard from the Headmaster that no amount of cajoling, arguing, even begging, could change Potter's mind. Severus couldn't begin to understand the boy's motive. To take even the chance of losing his magic was a huge risk that Severus would never be able to take himself.
He felt a grudging respect for the boy for having the balls to stand for what he believed in.
Even if it would ruin him in the end.
…
The first task was dragons—nesting mothers, actually—and Severus had to wonder whose idiocy had allowed this to happen. Taking an egg from a mother dragon's nest was practically suicide; real egg or not.
Were they actively trying to continue the trend of people dying in this tournament?
When Delacour, Krum and Diggory had all managed—with injuries to all three of them—to get their eggs, the crowd waited with baited breath for Potter to show up.
And he didn't.
Severus, despite himself, was quite amused by the whole thing. He stood to the side of Dumbledore's office later that evening and watched as Potter twirled his wand in his fingers for a moment before he conjured a bunch of flowers and handed them off to Minerva with a small smile.
"Looks like I still have my magic, doesn't it?"
…
Moody—not the real Moody—had lost his magic, and didn't that send Dumbledore into a tizz.
Despite his parentage, Severus was really beginning to enjoy Potter's presence at the castle.
…
Diggory won the Tournament, and the celebration lasted three days. Severus saw him and Potter chatting in the Great Hall, the older Hufflepuff practically hanging on Potter's every word.
When Potter smiled and winked at the older boy before he walked away, Severus couldn't help but wonder what in the hell had passed between them.
Potter was getting more and more interesting as the years passed. Severus was almost looking forward to the following school year.
Almost.
…
Feeling like he'd jinxed himself, Severus glared at the pink monstrosity the Ministry had sent along to Hogwarts to fill the Defence position.
Madam Umbridge was a toad in every sense, and he noticed Potter glaring up at her from his seat, the utter revulsion in his eyes surprising Severus. To his knowledge, Potter had never met the despicable woman before.
Then again, it was possible Black—Potter's official guardian now—had told Potter about her; she was one of the Ministry's biggest anti-creature supporters after all, and Black would surely hate her purely for that.
As she interrupted the Headmaster's speech with a stupid fake cough, Severus saw Potter shudder and look away.
Odd.
Just another oddity to add to the ever growing list that made up the conundrum that was Harry Potter.
…
"She's using a blood quill for detentions," Minerva raged. "How dare she! I want her removed immediately."
Dumbledore looked like Christmas had come early as he nodded eagerly. "Of course, Minerva. We have proof, I assume? Whom did she use it on?"
Minerva sighed. "Who else? Potter."
Severus snorted, because of course it was.
Umbridge spent three weeks in the castle before she was forcibly removed for a holding cell in Azkaban, awaiting trial for using a torture instrument on a minor. Severus thought that was some kind of record.
…
Professor Tonks—barely out of the Auror Academy and already proving herself too accident prone to be useful—was at least more palatable than Umbridge. Severus wasn't sure how much of a compliment that was when the bar was so low, but regardless, it was all he was willing to give.
Still, she seemed competent enough, he supposed. He just wished that she was a little less talkative.
"Have you ever had a thought that you didn't immediately verbalise?" he asked her, when she paused to take a breath in the middle of regaling him with the full story—to the most minute detail—of her first day in the classroom.
She snorted and shook her head. "Not often."
Severus sighed and wondered if Dumbledore would let him change seats.
…
"It's getting darker," Dumbledore commented, as he looked over the Dark Mark burned into Severus' arm. "It won't be long now."
"Quite," Severus agreed.
He'd come to terms with the return of the Dark Lord—and the imminent death looming over his own head.
"I believe it's time to connect with a few old friends," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "The Order will need to be reformed. If we cannot get a handle on this quickly, it will be a disaster."
Severus nodded. The world would go to hell in a handbasket within months if the Dark Lord wished it—and after so long as little but a spirit, Severus couldn't imagine he'd wish for anything else.
…
Potter knocked on the door, poking his head through when Severus called for him to enter.
Severus wasn't expecting him and he frowned. "Potter? What are you doing here?"
"I wondered if you had any cauldrons that needed cleaning, Sir."
"Why on earth would you wonder such a thing?"
"Cleaning calms me," Potter replied, looking down at his hands. "And given the amount of house-elves Hogwarts is home to, they don't often leave me much to do."
Severus snorted. "Quite. Well, I suppose if you want to do them, who am I to stop you? You know where they are."
"Thank you, Sir."
Severus continued his marking and left Potter to his own devices. It was almost three hours later when Potter finished, sitting back against the wall with his arms resting on his knees.
"Potter?"
"He's coming back," Potter said quietly. "He's almost done it."
Severus blinked. "What are you talking about, Potter?"
"Voldemort."
…
Severus wasn't sure how he managed to get out of the first meeting with the Dark Lord with air still in his lungs, but manage it he did.
Dumbledore was most pleased to see him return—most likely because it meant he still had a spy, rather than any particular attachment to Severus' life.
While Severus would like to believe Dumbledore cared, in his more cynical moments, he knew he was little more than a chess piece for Albus to move around his chessboard.
The Order of the Phoenix was quickly reformed, and much to Severus' displeasure, headquarters were set up at Black's new mansion. It's unplottability had been a big draw, and yet, it made Severus grimace every time he was forced to visit for a meeting.
He often saw Potter when he arrived, curled up somewhere with a book, or a few times even just through the window, flying around the grounds on his broom. He was a natural flyer, and Severus wondered to himself why he'd never tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Not that Severus minded. He did so enjoy keeping the Quidditch Cup in his office. It was forever a source of irritation for Minerva.
Surprisingly—or perhaps not, given the boy's oddities—Potter didn't seem interested in joining the meetings, despite knowing that Voldemort was back.
Beyond the way he often got visions—and that was odd in itself—he didn't seem to be curious at all about what happened in the meetings. Unless Black was telling him everything the moment they were alone.
Entirely possible.
It was at one of those meetings that Dumbledore turned to Severus with those beseeching eyes that meant Severus wasn't going to like what came next.
"Severus, when the students return to Hogwarts, I'm going to have to ask you to teach young Harry Occlumency. His visions are growing in strength and frequency. If we can get a hold on those, then we should."
"Have you asked Potter's opinion on that?"
Black rolled his eyes. "Of course I have. You think I want you digging around in his head? Harry is fine with it. He seems to respect you, though Merlin only knows why."
Huh. Well then.
Odd.
…
"I don't need these lessons, Sir," Potter said, the first time he walked into Severus' classroom for his first Occlumency lesson.
Severus stared. "Do you really believe yourself above such a skill, Potter?"
Potter blinked at him. "No, of course not. I already know Occlumency, Sir. I don't need the lessons. I just didn't want to tell the Headmaster that. He's quite suspicious of my magic already, you know?"
Severus didn't know. Albus had never made even the smallest of comments on being suspicious of Potter—in truth, he seemed quite proud of the boy and his consistency at excelling at whatever the school seemed to throw at him.
Back to the matter at hand, though.
"What do you mean, you already know Occlumency?"
Potter smiled. "I'm not sure how many ways that sentence can be taken, Professor, honestly."
"Then you won't mind if I test you?"
"Of course—"
Severus dove into Potter's mind, only to find it looked… utterly normal. Like any normal teenage boy. His memories were those of studying, of talking to his friends, of…
There was absolutely nothing about anything important.
Severus tried to find the barrier by pushing, by rooting, even picking at the edges.
He found no weaknesses.
Eventually, he was forced to admit defeat, and he slipped from Potter's mind with much more gentleness to find the boy sitting down, watching him curiously.
"Where on earth did you learn how to do that?" Severus asked, frowning.
Potter's smile turned into a smirk, and then a grin. "It's a secret."
…
Voldemort attacked the Ministry in an attempt to find out the prophecy. He was seen by the Minister because of Lucius' incompetence, and suddenly, the Wizarding World was officially at war.
Potter kept his head down for the remainder of his school year, passing along news of his visions to Severus, so that they could then be handed to the Order, and Dumbledore allowed Severus to cancel the Occlumency lessons—that had turned into three hours, twice a week, of Potter cleaning cauldrons—when he insisted there was nothing left for him to teach the boy.
Clearly, the visions couldn't be blocked.
Security everywhere tightened, and Severus found himself with even more tasks to shoulder—both for Voldemort and Dumbledore— in addition to his classes.
And then he was called to Dumbledore's office.
In the new year, he was to take the Defence position.
Severus had known he was only a pawn, hadn't he?
So why did it still sting?
…
Draco had been ordered to kill Dumbledore.
Merlin give them all strength, this was going to be a disaster. The child was an arrogant little snot; he wasn't a murderer.
And what was worse? Draco seemed pleased that he'd been trusted with the task. Clearly, nobody had told him that he was being punished for his father's failings.
The school year was already shaping up to be doomed, and it hadn't even started yet.
…
Severus realised, as he watched Potter hex Draco, that he'd never seen the boy lose his temper before.
Well. Boy. Man. He was seventeen after all, though still a child in some ways.
Whatever he was, his temper was practically an inferno—and as Severus cast a barrier between the boys, he wondered if Potter would have actually killed Draco had there been nobody to interrupt.
"What on earth is going on?" Severus thundered.
"This bloody idiot is trying to fix a two way cabinet to let Death Eaters into the school. A school full of children!" Potter snarled. He turned his attention to Draco who was watching him with wide eyes, pale and fearful. "Do you think they wouldn't touch your friends? Do you think they won't torture the first years for shits and giggles? Not only are you a fucking idiot, you're a filthy coward, Malfoy. Make an attempt on Dumbledore's life or don't, but stop expecting others to do the work for you, and stop putting innocent children at risk!"
Potter stormed off, leaving Severus and Draco to stare after him. When he was out of sight, Severus turned to look at Draco. "Explain."
Draco swallowed hard but didn't answer.
"Now," Severus demanded.
"He heard me talking to Pansy about the cabinets," Draco said. "I don't know how he knew the rest."
Severus ran a hand over his face. "Idiot. Go back to your dorm and stay there. And Merlin give me strength, if I hear anything else about bringing anyone into the castle, I'll end you myself."
Draco nodded and turned away, only to pause and turn back.
"Professor?"
"What, Draco?"
"Potter… I never paid much attention to him, you know? But… if the rumours are true, if he can defeat the Dark Lord like the whispers say… I wouldn't doubt it."
Severus held his gaze for a moment before he turned away.
He wasn't stupid enough to agree with the boy. At least, not out loud. In his head, it was another matter entirely.
…
"Potter, what are you doing?"
"Waiting to see the Headmaster, Sir," Potter replied. Severus noticed the grip on his bag tightened slightly, and he arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I don't know the password."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Liquorice allsorts," he said to the Gargoyle, who moved out of the way to allow entrance. "Shall we?"
Potter followed him up, and Albus called them in.
"Severus, Harry, this is a surprise. What can I do for you both?"
"I have no idea why Potter is here, Albus," Severus admitted. "I just came by to drop off my latest report."
He handed over the roll of parchment, and turned his attention to Potter, as Albus did the same.
Potter glanced at Severus and then the Headmaster, his lips pursed. "I… have some things for you, Headmaster."
"Oh?"
Potter looked between them again and sighed. "Right."
He dropped his bag to the chair closest to Dumbledore's desk and opened it up, pulling out item after item.
Severus watched on with curiosity as Albus grew more and more disbelieving, the more items were placed before him.
"The locket of Slytherin, Tom Riddle's Diary, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup, and the Gaunt ring. All Horcruxes."
Dumbledore stared. "Harry… how?"
Potter wrinkled his nose. "The how is… unimportant. At least for now. What is important is that there are two more."
"The how—"
"Isn't important," Potter repeated, shaking his head. "But I can't destroy them. I ran into some… technical errors. Anyway, I can't cast Fiendfyre without it getting out of control, so… I figured you'd know how to kill them."
"I… yes, I know how to cast and control Fiendfyre in a contained environment," Dumbledore said faintly, and Severus was impressed because he'd never heard Dumbledore sound faint before.
But still… Horcruxes. Multiple.
Merlin.
"You said there are two more?" Dumbledore said eventually, his tone a little stronger.
"Nagini," Potter said with a sigh. "And me."
Severus blinked. "What?"
"His soul was exceedingly unstable when he attacked my parents. My mother's sacrifice kicked him in the soul and broke what was left of it, I guess. It latched onto the only living thing left in the house."
"Your scar," Severus said, eyeing the lightning bolt on Potter's head.
"Right."
"But—"
"I gotta face him, and he's gotta kill me," Potter said, and he was so blase about it.
Who could just talk about that as if it were nothing?
Potter, apparently.
"I'm gonna… go," Potter said, eventually, when it became clear that neither Albus or Severus were gonna say anything. "Let me know when those are handled, and I'll go deal with the last two."
And then he was gone, and Severus was left to stare at the empty space where Potter had been standing and wonder when he'd grown to like him.
Bloody hell.
…
Watching the sword slice through Nagini was both awe inspiring and disgusting. How Potter even had the sword, Severus had no idea, but that was the least of his worries.
"Bombarda," he snarled, hitting Rodolphus smack in the chest. He watched him fly back and hit a wall, sliding unmoving to the floor, and moved on.
He was trying to get closer to Potter, to talk him out of letting the Dark Lord kill him, but whenever he got close, the Death Eaters piled in and Severus had to rid himself of them before he could start the process of getting close all over again.
The Order were holding their own though, he couldn't help but notice. Maybe it was the lack of support on the Dark side, given Voldemort's lack of opportunity to go recruiting.
Really, Potter's timing couldn't be better.
Odd.
…
"Avada Kedavra."
Severus felt as if his heart stopped in his chest. He watched—along with everyone else, the fighters on both sides frozen—as both Potter and the Dark Lord fell.
There was silence for a long moment, and then Severus watched as Potter shifted. Just a little.
He took a step, but then he realised they were both moving, and it was a race to get to their feet and begin the fighting again, and Severus was hurting but he was hurtling towards Potter anyway, ignoring the pain as he got closer and closer.
"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort snarled again, his voice weaker than Severus had ever heard it.
"Expelliarmus," Potter intoned, oddly calm and poised as he used a disarming charm against the killing curse.
And won.
…
"You know, he's going to hound you until you give him answers," Severus said, sitting in the conjured armchair at Potter's bedside.
He was fine, mostly, but Black and Remus, and Dumbledore along with them, had insisted he be checked out by Poppy regardless.
The killing curse was no laughing matter, after all.
Potter nodded. "I know. He's always been a stubborn old sod, hasn't he?"
Severus blinked. "Potter."
The pieces fell into place slowly, and Severus stared into space for a long moment.
"How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Time travel. How?"
Potter's lips quirked. "That's impossible and you know it."
"It should be," Severus agreed. "But I think you're not one to listen to 'impossible', are you, Potter?"
"It's a hazy concept," Potter replied. "Impossible for one doesn't mean impossible for all, after all. It's unlikely for anything to be impossible. Improbable, certainly."
"You're utterly impossible," Severus pointed out.
Potter grinned. "Not impossible. Merely improbable."
…
"How old are you?"
Severus kept asking the question at random intervals, hoping to get an answer if he just shocked one out of Potter.
"Eighteen," Potter replied, pointing at the banner overhead. "It's my birthday, Severus. Surely even you can remember when it's literally written all over the place?"
When the 'Severus' had started happening, Severus wasn't sure. Why he hadn't stopped it, he had no idea.
Except Potter treated him like a normal person, and it wasn't often people did that.
"Okay, how old were you?"
"Seventeen," Potter replied promptly. "That's how aging works. It goes in order."
Severus snorted. "You're an imbecile."
Shrugging, Potter replied, "And yet you still tolerate my presence on a pretty frequent basis."
Severus couldn't really argue with that.
…
With the death of the Dark Lord came the death of the curse on the position. Severus taught defence for three years, while Horace Slughorn taught potions at Dumbledore's behest.
But the portly man was retiring, and Severus missed his cauldrons.
"You know he wants you to take it, don't you?" Severus asked, handing Harry a tumbler of whisky.
"Of course I do. You know I'm going to do it, right?"
"Of course I do," Severus repeated. "When are you going to tell him?"
"He knows, Severus. I saw him before I came down here."
Severus snorted. "Twenty years old and already a Professor. I'm surprised the board is letting it happen."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Please. I killed Voldemort, did you really think they were going to say no? Besides… I'm thirty four. So."
Severus blinked at him. And then he smiled, a small, real smile as he nodded his head.
"Okay. But they don't know that, do they?"
Harry shrugged. "Like I said, I'm the Man-Who-Won, or whatever they're calling me this week. They were never going to turn me down for the position. Dumbledore is practically dancing."
"You told him?"
"Not everything. Enough."
"You'll tell me everything?"
Harry looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. "One day, I will."
…
Severus opened the door to allow Harry entrance, smirking at the look on his face.
"Why did I think this was a good idea?" Harry complained, as he slumped down on Severus' sofa. "They're all imbeciles, Severus."
"I did warn you."
"Yes you did. One day, I'll learn to listen to you."
"No you won't."
"Yeah… it's definitely improbable."
Severus snorted. "Improbable indeed."
Written for:
This Or That: 8. A Bunch of Flowers
Buttons: W5. Questioning / E4. Surprised
They Said What: 3. "Have you ever had a thought that you didn't immediately verbalize?"
Pop Figures: Harry Potter: 14. Luna Lovegood: (Word) Piercing
365: 61. Wand
Scavenger Hunt: 66. Write a story including the following prompt set: Pink / Bombarda / Whisky
Fantastic Beasts: 154. Roc: "That's impossible and you know it."