A/N: I'm sorry for the wait in updates, but writing is hard at times for me. That being said getting your reviews really does help encourage me to keep trying and turn these blank pages into hopefully a satisfying chapter. So thank you for your support. I'm sorry I can't update this or my other stories as often as I want or at a pace you deserve.
The Slytherin Reformation
By Spectre4hire
6: Forward
"I never thought that it would end."
"You say that about every potions class, Nev," Theo pointed out.
"And I mean it."
Harry chuckled, following behind them as they weaved through the desks on the way out of the potions classroom. He shared his friend's sentiment. Ever since Harry told his Head of House his father's last words and regrets, he had been given nothing but chilly indifference from the potions professor. Which meant Harry had the same determination as their Gryffindor friend to leave the class as soon as they could.
The girls were ahead of them in their own conversation while Harry trailed Theo and Neville. The two were trying to compare potion notes. They were whispering not wanting to earn the ire of Professor Snape who was a vigilant listener.
"Seriously, Nev?" Theo sounded more amused than exasperated. "He said it three times."
"I know," he said weakly, "but its hard to write it down when he's staring."
Theodore chuckled, "Fine," He patted Neville on the shoulder, "But only because I need those Herbology notes."
Neville's shoulders loosened at the unfounded worry that he was not going to be able to get those notes. "Thank you!" He quickly said, "And of course. I'm happy to help."
Harry was about to ask for help too with their herbology homework when an unexpected voice interrupted them.
"Mister Potter."
He stopped at once at the icy voice of his Head of House. Harry slowly turned to see Professor Snape was standing at the front of his classroom, arms crossed and folded into the black sleeves of his teaching robes. His equally dark eyes conveyed nothing when they met Harry's. "A word, in my office." His head tilted a fraction in that direction.
"Of course, sir," Harry tried not to gulp.
Snape didn't seem to listen or care as he was already heading towards his office.
"Should we wait?" Theodore didn't hide his concern at his friend's well being, "Should we send word ahead to the Hospital Wing?"
"Theodore," Hermione scolded. "He's a professor! Snape's not going to hurt Harry."
Neville gave his fellow Gryffindor an incredulous look. "He's Snape."
Hermione rolled her eyes at that explanation. "Who is a professor," she repeated her argument, "Dumbledore would never hire someone who'd hurt their students."
"Except for Quirrel," Daphne pointed out with a sly smile.
Hermione frowned. "Except for him," she amended, looking a bit put out that her argument contained a flaw she overlooked.
"Lockhart wasn't too great," Theodore mumbled.
"He didn't hurt anyone," Tracey argued.
"Yes, he did," Neville interjected.
"Those were accidents."
"Thanks, guys," Harry stepped in, seeing that this conversation was spiraling into a confusing entanglement of opinions. "You guys can just wait for me outside, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," Daphne was the first to agree to his plan. The others nodded as well and began to file out of the classroom, she was the last one. She stopped at the door and looked back, "A little advice, Harry, but I'd lose the look like you're walking into Azkaban," she winked at him, and with a small smile she slipped out of the room.
"Thanks," he managed to say to her retreating form. He felt his lips curve upwards, thankful at how the joke was able to alleviate some of his concerns of what was waiting for him. Or who was waiting for him.
He made the walk to the office. Harry couldn't help but dwell on the last time he spoke to his head of house outside of class. It had been after his incident with Alexius, when for the first time since being sorted in Slytherin, Snape had given him a validation that Harry belonged in this house.
And I went ahead and mucked that all up, Harry had then had to tell Snape about his Father and his apology to his former rival. He thought it was words that his Head of House wanted to hear. He had offered to give the memory for Snape to see, but the Potions professor coldly refused. In Harry's mind, it seemed Snape was determined to lock up that part of his life and to never view it again.
"Thank you for finally joining me, Mister Potter," Snape's back was to him when Harry entered.
"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said automatically. He could already tell by his professor's voice that he should tread carefully.
"Your friends concerns were touching."
Harry felt part of his face slacken in surprise. An icy touch on his back at the realization Snape had heard them.
That was when Snape chose to turn to face him. "Mister Longbottom's especially are noted."
Harry stood still and shocked. It was his worry for Neville that prompted him to try to say something in his friend's defense. "Sir, I-," he began but Snape cut him off by raising a finger.
"I'm not here to speak on the gossiping of students," He said in a tone that conveyed he thought such matters beneath him. "Mister Longbottom is not the first student to not be appreciative of my class, and he will not be the last." He then used that finger and pointed it for Harry to take a seat.
Harry silently obeyed. He took the empty seat while still quietly hoping his friend would not have any fallout for what was said between them about their potions professor. "Then why did you ask to see me, sir?"
Snape raised a dark eyebrow at Harry's question, a look followed that was clear to read-Really? He then turned his back on Harry again. His attention seemed to be on something particular on his bookshelf, but Harry didn't have a good enough look to see what it was. "Last time we spoke," his tone was eerily calm, "You told me something."
"I did." Harry realized after he gave his answer, it sounded more a question than a confirmation due to his tone. His head of house thought as much too as he looked over his shoulder towards him, causing Harry to clarify, "I remember, sir."
"Why?"
"Sir?"
"Why did you tell me?" His voice was dangerously soft.
Harry was certain this was difficult ground he was about to tread on. He did not answer right away, wanting to choose his words carefully. He thought to himself, why he did say what he did, but he wasn't sure how to properly explain it especially when he was concerned that Harry's words could do him more harm than intended.
"I thought it was the right thing to do."
"The right thing?" There was a mocking edge to Professor's Snape's tone, "For who? Your father? To try to protect his legacy."
"No," Harry said quickly, but harshly. The latter which was not just surprising to Harry but to Snape as well, who turned around at it. He tried to not falter under the intimidating stare that followed. "It was for my mum."
Something quick but unrecognizable flickered over Snape's face at Harry's answer. "What?" His voice sounded more like a strangled hiss.
Harry knew of his mother and Snape's history together. Roxy and the others had informed him of it, of their friendship before Hogwarts had even started. And how it was strained when they were sorted into different houses and how it eventually fell apart when they were older due to the war with Voldemort. The Dark Lord and his ilk loomed over the school like an imposing shadow trying to recruit for his army in the battles to come. Sadly in Harry's mind many of his soldiers came from his house-Slytherin.
Not very ambitious to follow an unhinged Dark wizard, he thought. Voldemort doesn't share. He put that aside knowing he shouldn't stay too quiet at Snape's question.
"She wanted you to let go. That you needed to forgive yourself and move forward, sir," Harry said softly, recalling his parting words with his parents in their brief time together between life and death at the removal of the horcrux that was grafted onto Harry.
Harry pressed forward before Snape could stop him, to silence him, believing he needed to hear it.
"She forgives you, She told me to tell you that. She'll forgive you," Harry saw the warring emotions flickering over the usual stoic Potions professor's face.
Snape's face twisted, dark eyes glancing away, while his mouth turned downward.
"But," Harry paused, remembering the rest of what his Mother had told him, but was unsure if that should be added. He did not want to look like he was manipulating the matter. That was why he wanted Snape to see it and not him having to repeat what he was told.
"She'll forgive me?" He repeated quietly, shaking his head, looking perturbed at the mere thought. He paled, and shook his head again. "No," His voice sounded strained and tired, "No." This time it was louder and forceful.
"Professor?" Harry had gotten out of his seat, surprised at the sudden display of emotions from his head of house. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." He back pedaled, realizing this was a mistake.
"I don't deserve it," His dark eyes then fell on Harry as if looking at him for the first time. They stayed on Harry's eyes for a few seconds, before turning away and taking a breath. "Mister Potter," his voice returned to its cold crispness.
"Yes, professor?"
"You will not repeat what you just saw or heard."
"I wouldn't think of it, sir." Harry had no intention to, even before Snape's icy warning. He did not flinch under the Potion's professor gaze when he looked him over as if to see if he could snuff out if Harry was lying to him or not.
"Smart," Snape replied sharply, smoothing the front of his robes before brushing some of his dark and greasy hair out of his face. "There may come a time when I ask to see this," he paused, "memory of your mother."
"You will have it, sir."
Snape's eyes held a suspicious glint to them, but it did not last. He gave a tight nod, "Until then, we will speak no more of this matter or what was said. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal, sir." Harry then found himself adding. "I ask that my friend, Neville be given that same courtesy from what you may or may not have overheard."
He regarded him quietly for a second or more, before his lips looked to curve upwards, but his face remained stony, "Very well, Mister Potter. Agreed."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Thank you, sir." He looked to the open door. "Will that be all, sir?"
"That will be all," Snape dismissed with a turn of his head.
Harry was at the doorway when his potions professor spoke to him.
"You continue to surprise me, Harry."
That had caused him to stop. It was not just what he said, but how he said it. It was very rare for his Head of house to use his name. He looked over, but Snape wasn't looking at him. He was sitting at his desk, his eyes overlooking some parchment on his desk.
Realizing, he couldn't stand in the doorway, Harry left to regroup with his friends.
"One more?"
Harry laughed, "Alright, one more." He held up his finger.
Tracey grinned, putting her arm around him. "You'll thank me for these in a couple years, ya know."
"Will I?" Harry glanced over to see Tracey's confident smirk in response. He then looked forward as Tracey awkwardly held the camera out in front of them in order to take a picture of the two of them. He smiled, and waited until the familiar flash filled his vision.
After all the pictures he was bombarded with today, he still could not get used to that blinding flash. Surely there was some magical spell to temper it. He rubbed at his eyes, hoping the white splotches in his vision wouldn't linger past a few seconds.
The pictures were to capture their historic day. Harry and Tracey had played their first match for their house team in quidditch going up against their rivals, Gryffindor. It was a thrilling game, and Harry savored every moment of it. The crowd, the flying, the competition, but most of all the victory, that he and Tracey helped secure for Slytherin.
They were just leaving the locker room to catch up with the rest of their friends who would be waiting for them in Moony's office for a small party to celebrate their first game and victory. He had changed out of his sweaty and dirty Slytherin uniform as soon as he was able.
Tracey had decided to keep hers on, and Harry wondered if she was ever going to part with it. Thankfully, she had been smart enough to cast some cleaning charms to banish the grime and sweat and any odors that would have clung to it after their grueling game.
The camera had been a gift from Tracey's mother. She hadn't been able to get the time off at St. Mungos to go to the game. So she had tasked her daughter with taking as many pictures as she could to capture everything Olivia Davis would miss.
She was taking those orders to heart, Harry had lost count of how many pictures his friend had taken. Tracey had not just focused on taking pictures in the aftermath of their victory, but she had taken dozens in the lead up to their match. Until she handed the camera off to Daphne and charged her friends with taking as many as they could.
Resigned at not just having to go to the match, but now having to watch closely, and document it, Daphne reluctantly took the camera from her best friend. The camera had been promptly returned after the match, back to the locker room where Tracey gladly took it from Daphne, who told them the rest would meet them at Moony's office, and not to take too long. Harry had barely heard Daphne over the flash of Tracey's camera who was eager to capture the right mood of their victory for her mum to see.
Daphne left the locker room rubbing her eyes, and muttering angrily. The latest victim of her friend's trigger happy finger when it came to these pictures.
"I don't think you'll have to worry about your Mum missing any more of your matches," Harry was pleased that his vision returned. He looked over to see Tracey fiddling with the camera.
"Oh, what makes you say that?"
"Just the number of pictures you've taken." He teased. "It'll be shorter and easier for her if she just went to the game."
Tracey giggled, but nudged his shoulder with hers in feigned outrage. "I can't wait to see which ones they took while we're playing," Her eyes shined. "Aren't you curious to see how you look?"
"I'm more curious to see if your camera will permanently damage my vision."
Tracey laughed, "I didn't take that many!" She protested, but her confidence faltered at Harry's stare. "Okay, maybe I took a few too many," she amended, "A few."
Harry snorted, "A few?" He shook his head, "Okay, I'll accept that."
Tracey looked pleased at the compromise. "However, that doesn't include the party we're going to."
Harry groaned, and she just laughed louder as they made their way across the castle's grounds and back towards the school.
He was surprised at how much Tracey had transformed in the last few days. It had all started when she got the camera. Before the gift, she had been nervous and worried about their first match. She barely ate, procrastinated at practice and was unable to stay focused in class. It was consuming her, and despite Harry and their friends' efforts, it was difficult to break that tight grip her anxiousness had put around her. It was worrying for all of them to see her in such a state. Daphne had said that she was sick too because of the nerves of the pending match.
And then she got that camera, Harry remembered when it had arrived with the Post. Tracey had been disappointed by the letter her mother sent, and surprised by the gift. She had curiously taken the camera and following her mother's advice had started using it first at practice. And to Harry and the others' relief Tracey's trepidation seemed to melt away when she was behind the camera. He couldn't help but wonder if that had been Tracey's mother's plan all along.
They were nearly to the doors when they heard voices calling from behind. The two Slytherins turned and were surprised at who approached them. It was Fred and George Weasley. The fourth year Gryffindor twins who played the beaters for their house team. They looked to have come from their own locker room since they were cleaned and changed out of their uniforms.
"Oi! Wait up," one of them called out.
"Do you know which is which?" Tracey mumbled to him.
Harry shook his head. "No idea," he whispered back, watching them approach. He had always been friendly with the Gryffindor twins dating back to his first year when they had helped him after a cruel prank Draco had played on him. They had found and rescued him when he was afraid he'd be stuck and lost for a long time.
"We wanted to congratulate you," The one on the right said.
The one on the left nodded, "That's right, you two were bloody brilliant."
"Thanks," Harry was appreciative for their praise. He had watched them over the years and had always been impressed by their skill as both flyers and beaters. He was certain they were the best beaters in the school. Sadly they were on the wrong team.
"Yeah, thanks," Tracey was looking between them, "But I'd think it would help if I knew who was who."
That got the twins to laugh. They then exchanged a look between them that felt like a silent conversation, before the one on the right spoke up. "That's fair enough, I'm George," he then pointed to his brother, "And this is Fred."
"There's not a day that goes by when he wishes he was Fred and I was George," Fred grinned.
"You wish."
"Nice to meet you," Tracey pushed forward before the brothers could bicker anymore. "I'll be thinking of you when I ice the bruise on my ribs."
George looked sheepish. "That was me."
"Thanks," she said dryly.
George chuckled, "In my defense that's my role in this game, maybe ya forget?"
Tracey took his sarcasm with a growing smile. "Didn't forget, just didn't appreciate it."
"You still scored," Harry pointed out, unable to keep his own smile from surfacing.
Tracey beamed at that truth. "I did? Didn't I?"
"You did," Fred and George agreed dully.
"A pity you're on Slytherin," Fred went on. "Otherwise, we could actually like or respect you," he winked.
Harry laughed. "Indeed," he then turned to Tracey. "We're really missing out on something, don't ya think?"
Tracey snorted. "Looks like it."
The Twins took this insult with amusement instead of indignation. "If anyone should be upset its us." George pointed out.
"Because you lost?" Tracey asked with a not so innocent tone.
"In part," Fred answered, "But now Wood's going to be drilling us even harder in our practices," he said in a resigned tone, accepting the cruel path laid out for him and his brother.
George was nodding, "So many drills, so many hours," he gave a dramatic shudder.
"I think he's hoping to break us," Fred said. "So he can reforge us in his image," Fred added. "His very scary intense image where only Quidditch matters."
"That's not so bad," Tracey remarked.
"Then you can come to the practice for us," Fred offered.
George shook his head. "No, Wood would think she was a spy or some deviant trying to ferret our secrets."
"Why would we spy on you?" Tracey asked. "We already beat you."
Fred looked her over in an exaggerated manner. "That's exactly what a spy would say to get us to lower our guard."
"Right you are, George," George grinned.
"I'm Fred," He reminded his brother.
"Oh yeah," George replied, "Sorry, got distracted with those practices that are in store for us."
"Understandable," Fred said, "They're dreadful."
"Harry, Tracey," Four heads turned to see Professor Lupin approaching them. "Was wondering when you were going to show up to your own party? There's fashionably late and then there's just rude," His tone belaying his words.
"Sorry," Tracey knew she was the reason for it due to her constant picture taking.
Remus waved her off. "Don't be, we've been able to have as much as food and drink." He then turned to Fred and George as if noticing them for the first time. "You two flew well today. You're great beaters."
"Thank you, Professor," Fred was the one to reply.
Lupin nodded, "I also heard about that stunt you pulled on Filch on the second floor last week."
"We don't know what you're talking about, Professor Lupin."
If Harry didn't know the twins better he probably would've believed George's response. They sounded and looked so genuine in their innocence.
Moony didn't respond, he looked them over under a stern gaze for a few quiet seconds. "That's a pity, I wanted to get those responsible a butterbeer," He shrugged, "Oh well."
The twins exchanged incredulous looks at that, but to their credit they still did not come clean to any wrongdoing.
He laughed, "You two remind me of my friends and I when we went here." His tone had gone wistful.
"Professor Lupin a troublemaker?" George said in a feigned surprised voice. "It couldn't be."
Moony only smiled, "You have no idea." There was a twinkle in his eyes before he turned back to Harry and Tracey. "Come on, let's go."
"We should get going," George agreed.
"Yeah," Fred said, "This could be our last free Saturday afternoon for a while."
"Wait," Tracey stopped them, "a picture?" She asked with an innocent smile.
"Oh that's cruel," Fred protested.
"Yeah, now you're just rubbing it in."
Though neither twin looked bothered or upset by her request. "Just make it quick," Fred said in a feigned voice as if he was in pain.
Tracey offered the camera to Lupin as a silent question.
He took it with an indulgent smile.
Harry groaned-loudly.
Tracey ignored him. She moved to stand on Fred's side while Harry moved to stand on George's side since the Twins were in the middle.
"What should we say?" Harry asked them.
"Slytherin, obviously," Tracey grinned.
The twins sighed, but when Lupin warned them he was taking the picture, right before the flash blinded Harry once more, he heard him and Tracey saying-Slytherin while the Twins were saying-obviously.
The white blotches were a familiar sight to Harry as he fruitlessly scrubbed at his eyes to try to banish them and regain his sight.
"Insult to injury," George said.
"Injury to injury," Fred corrected, as the brothers were reeling from the flash.
"Thanks again, guys," Harry hoped they knew he wasn't referring to the picture but him being appreciative of their gesture to congratulate them on their victory.
They understood, smiled and nodded. "Still a pity you weren't in Gryffindor, Harry." They called back, they then turned to Tracey. "We're undecided about you."
Tracey stuck her tongue out at them.
"Lead on, Moony," Harry called to his uncle. He followed his words by extending his hands forward as if trying to feel his way around.
"Don't be so dramatic, Harry," Tracey chided him, grabbing his arm to lead him the way.
If Harry had turned back then he would've noticed the strange looks Moony had gotten out of the twins. He would've seen them perk as well as gape at what he said. Instead, he, Lupin, and Tracey made their way inside the castle while the twins were left to their own thoughts at what they just overheard between Harry and Moony.
A/N: I'm not trying to draw out the Snape stuff, but I think he's wrought with guilt and trauma and that it would take some time for him.
There was another scene planned and partially written, but if I went ahead with it then I would've ended this chapter on a cliffhanger. And I didn't think that was fair given my very slow update schedule for this story. So instead I chose to just keep this chapter light, short, and low-key. This also helped to dip my toe back into this story and this fandom.
Thanks for your steadfast support through writer's block, fickle muses, waning interest, real life, etc. Honestly, reading your reviews and seeing your feedback really does keep this story going. I know it's at a pace none of us like, and I am sorry about that. You guys deserve better and at the moment, I can't deliver because of my problems. And I understand if you can't read or follow this story because of it.
-Spectre4hire