Maybe, Probably and Absolutely Not
Severus Snape in canon seems to be continually unhappy, bitter, cruel and regretful. This story however imagines what might happen if some years after the end of the first wizarding war, he gradually starts to heal, and to come to terms with past events. Does he become a better person? Is he a redeemed, nicer, cuddlier, friendlier Snape? Well, yes (somewhat). In this story, Snape faces up to his own mistakes, is more self-aware and has more fun along the way. While doing all of this, he enhances his own life and the lives of others who become close to him, including Harry Potter.
This story is told in first person from Snape's POV in journal form, with his own particular brand of snarky humour running through the narrative as he describes the two years leading up to Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts. The first few pages are a preamble which cover Snape's early years as a teacher, and then the main story begins.
Tags: Gen fic, Severitus, no romance, first person POV, Snape mentors Harry, Snape meets the Dursleys, canon level abuse, pre-Hogwarts, humour, Snape's journal, Dursley bashing.
Main characters: Severus Snape, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, OCs, Albus Dumbledore
All rights belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter 1 – Disrupting the cycle
Or, the chapter in which I introduce myself and you begin the process of starting to like and admire me. (It might be quite a long process).
My name is Severus Snape and I am composing this journal to tell you how right I am about everything. If you'd just take my word for it then I could stop right here, but as I think you'll need some convincing, I will continue.
I am currently 31 years old and I teach Potions at Hogwarts school. As I write these words it is September 1991, but this story first takes shape some time ago, on a day when I did something that I have rarely ever done before, and certainly not to anyone who I did not care about; I was… (pause for a dramatic shudder of disgust)… kind to someone.
However, to set that disturbing event into context, I probably need to start this tale at an earlier point in my mostly tiresome life. When I accepted the post of Potions Master at Hogwarts, I set out from my very first day in office to become the most terrifying monster that any of the non-Slytherin students had ever encountered – even those who were taking Care of Magical Creatures to NEWT level. My aim was to make myself into a figure of absolute authority who they feared, hated, dreaded and feared even more.
This was surprisingly easy to accomplish.
You may think badly of me for making such nefarious plans but to be entirely candid, I didn't care one iota what anyone's opinion was of me at that time. (The Headmaster once said that was half of my problem right there, but I've never admitted that he had a point about anything on sheer principle). And anyway, what would you do in my position? I mean, think about it logically. I had returned to Hogwarts as a professor only three years after taking my NEWTs. This meant that I would be teaching students who remembered me as a student myself. They would recollect all too well the many occasions when I was ridiculed and humiliated at the hands of my Gryffindor tormentors. If I was to retain any type of authority in the classroom, then I had to make a complete and immediate break in the students' minds between the victimised, hunted boy that I was at school and the strong, confident man that I was now. (Or at least, that I had to appear to be now). Probably there were a number of methods that I could have used to accomplish such a goal, but terrorising the non-Slytherin students wholesale was quick and effective – and it was also quite categorically the most appealing way to do it.
And what of the remaining quarter of the student population? My tactics as described above were decidedly popular with most of the Slytherins. Watching me tear into an unlucky Gryffindor student at will became a favourite spectator sport. Which was helpful, because I had another objective to complete in that first term. You see, as the new head of house for Slytherin, I very much had to prove myself. I had to earn the respect of the Slytherins, which I knew would be a difficult task. I am a half-blood, I am not from an illustrious magical family, I had at that time practically no money or valuable connections. Consider for a moment my predecessor, Horace Slughorn, with his easy bonhomie, established position in the world and unlimited list of useful contacts. What could I possibly have to offer the cynical, war-damaged students of Slytherin in comparison to him?
Well… it was my job to find an answer to that question, one which the Slytherins would also accept, and very quickly too.
Did you know that ever since the founding of Hogwarts that every new Slytherin head of house has stood before the students in the Slytherin common room on the first day of their appointment and solemnly made a vow of honour to them? The vow is to serve the Slytherins, protect their interests, uphold Slytherin values and shield the students from harm in every way possible. And did you also know that any Slytherin students who feel that their head of house has failed to keep to the terms of this vow can call for a vote to challenge their position? And finally, were you aware that if the challengers win the vote then the discredited Professor is then honour-bound to step down as head of house? No, of course you didn't know any of that – we don't speak of such things to outsiders. But I should mention that it's considered a terrible thing even for a vote to be called for, let alone for it to be lost. And what I dreaded the most was that someone would use that method to attempt to get rid of me.
Now, having said that, I knew that there was no immediate danger. No Slytherin would rush into such a big decision; they might have been sceptical of my abilities, but they would give me at least a moderate amount of time to prove myself, especially as I was the only Slytherin professor on staff at the time. And as mentioned above, my general cruelty and unfairness to students of the other three houses was well received. Another factor in my favour was that the whole challenge vote process did not usually end well for those students who were brave / cunning / bold / reckless / moronic / ambitious (select your adjective of choice) enough to attempt it.
There have been eight challenge votes held since Hogwarts was built, of which only two were won by the students concerned. Challenging your head of house represents a major power move, one both enticingly rewarding and exceedingly dangerous. If you won the vote, then the other students would greatly respect you and follow your lead without question. Additionally, the successor to the deposed head of house would be sure to treat you extremely favourably, just from general caution. But if you lost the vote, the consequences could be severe. How severe, I hear you ask with unrestrained and morbid curiosity? Well…
Consider, for example, the case of one Geoffrey De Lacey. He had been in charge of Slytherin for only a few weeks when in October 1276, he was challenged after accidentally killing seven of his students through a botched ritual, which he performed (for reasons lost in the mists of time) right in the middle of the Slytherin common room. De Lacey himself sustained only moderate injuries as a result. Apparently, the dead students were sitting nearby at the time, and he reassured them beforehand that it was perfectly safe for them to remain. Since De Lacey is supposed to have been close to incompetent in all subjects aside from Arithmancy, you could argue that his hapless victims deserved to kick the bucket for believing him. However, believe him they did, and for that, they paid the ultimate price. Somebody obviously took this personally – don't they always? – and a challenge vote was called for by a group of five enraged students. However, De Lacey won the vote by a large majority. Cynical historians have since suggested that this could just possibly have something to do with the fact that all five of his challengers happened to fall under an improbably on-the-scene and generally annoyed dragon, which in some mysterious way gained access to the school grounds on the day before the vote. As a result, the five students concerned sustained extremely serious injuries. According to the written records from that time, two of them "lost highly important body parts and could never function wholly adequately thereafter", and one of the others "cowered like a baby mouse at even a simple mention of the word dragon for all time onward."
Now that's the sort of fascinating event that should be taught in History of Magic classes, don't you think? You can't tell me that the students wouldn't prefer that to endless droning tales of goblin rebellions!
And yes, I know that the above makes me sound like a heartless sod, more so than I actually am. The deaths of seven students and the serious wounding of five more is of course a tragedy, regardless of how and why it happened, but it's not exactly evil to be flippant when referring to violent events if sufficient time has passed since they occurred. (Can we agree that seven hundred years is sufficient time? Well, I think it is, and it's my opinion that counts).
To be clear though, I personally would never physically hurt any student – even the ones who thoroughly deserve it, and there are a long list of those. (You can't get away with that sort of thing nowadays, I've checked). And I was sure that the Slytherins would understand that I was not a threat to them in that way, which might have made them bolder. To add to these difficulties, there were other ways in which I could be attacked. There were three Slytherins on the Board of Governors at the time, for example, so pressure could be brought to bear on that front. Thus, I had to show from the outset that I was strong, capable of enforcing discipline and defending the Slytherins. I would not be judged as a failure, not in my own house and in front of my own people. Not again.
It wasn't just about self-protection though, I do admit that. Becoming a teacher was never on my list of life ambitions, but now that I was one, I was fascinated by the power that it gave me to influence the lives of students, both for good or ill. I got a thrill from making Gryffindors quail and flinch as I turned my ominous attention to them. For once,I was the one in command. And it was all so rewarding! By the end of my first term, I had full control of Slytherin house and the rest of the school fervently wished that I would just fall over and die. This included most of the other professors.
For the next few years, I continued just as I'd started. I had chosen a path and I walked down it with vigour, seemingly quite content with myself. Underneath it all however, I will admit that I was not wholly comfortable with my own actions – and my self-disapproval took a most curious form. I found that I began to hear Lily Potter's voice in my mind, telling me off with exasperation, as she had often done when she was alive and we were still friends. On the many instances when her obstinate voice echoed in my head and told me that I was making a mistake about something, I did my level best to ignore it. I knew that she wasn't real, let's be clear about that. I wouldn't want you think I was confused on that point. (Mind you, she was quite persistent for someone who was a complete invention of my own subconscious mental processes).
As the years passed, I continued to mourn for my dear Lily – my one real friend as a child and the only person whom I truly loved. She was gone, and I was largely to blame for her death. Living with that knowledge, and with the realisation that she would be ashamed of the man whom I had become, was a daily struggle. However, I became all too practised in suppressing her fictional voice as soon as it tried to get my attention.
I'm sure it's become clear to you by now that I'm hardly a model of righteousness. I can quite imagine that you disapprove of me heartily. I'll concede that I had many flaws, although I hadn't acknowledged that fact back then. The Headmaster once commented that he would probably need about three feet of parchment to "list all of my character shortfalls and deficiencies". He then smiled broadly and told me that he was joking, of course. Hmm… still, I would say in my own defence that I made myself into a success as head of Slytherin, at least. You see, although I might not have been the avuncular and well-connected Professor Slughorn, I was a man who could accomplish things. I discreetly offered every Slytherin student my support, assistance, advice and mentoring. The most important word in that last sentence, by the way, is 'every'. That was the way in which I made myself valuable to the Slytherins. Professor Slughorn had favourites, you see, he prioritised those Slytherins with valuable qualities or associations and mostly ignored the rest. In contrast, I treated all Slytherins equally well, I defended them to others and most of all, I worked hard at inspiring them to be the best versions of themselves that they could be. Though I couldn't help being a half-blood, I was able to correct my other deficiencies; I developed strong alliances and made a name for myself as a man who could be counted upon. If someone like me had been head of Slytherin when I was at school then those Gryffindors would not have got away with bullying me for very long, I can assure you.
But, but… there was a considerable price to be paid for all of this success.
I had, of course, been personally appointed as a Potions master and head of Slytherin by Albus Dumbledore. Now, in most other schools, there would be a recruitment panel comprised of several members of staff to appoint new professors. They would use well-documented and logical processes to assess the competency of each applicant. In Hogwarts, by sharp contrast, the Headmaster carries out all recruitment on his own, using unspecified criteria and an undocumented procedure which is universally perceived as being confusing, haphazard, illogical and sometimes downright foolish. What I am telling you is that although the British magical population generally holds Albus Dumbledore in the highest esteem, they also think that he's rubbish at finding new staff. Therefore, when I started teaching at Hogwarts aged 21 – far too young, in many people's eyes – the other professors had low expectations of me, and I managed to live down to them thoroughly. Basically, within a couple of weeks I had become someone whom my colleagues thoroughly disliked, and this was reflected in their treatment of me.
Mind you, I wouldn't want you to think that the rest of the staff were unprofessional in their dealings with me, because they were not. We all managed to forge a satisfactory working relationship, and certainly most of the students had no idea how much I was despised by my colleagues. The other professors showed their feelings towards me in private, behind closed doors. I should mention that the staff of Hogwarts often have few opportunities to socialise with other adults, especially during the busy school terms. Teaching is a profession which easily expands to fill almost all of a person's day, and apart from the odd trip out to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley on afternoons or nights off, we professors don't normally see any adults apart from each other. This being so, the staff of Hogwarts acts as a kind of family, filled (as families usually are) with a mixture of relations that each person either really likes, slightly likes, tolerates, dislikes or absolutely can't stand. I was soon placed into the last category. Indeed, such was the universal animosity felt towards me that I was almost entirely excluded from the social aspects of the adult Hogwarts community.
I didn't understand all of the above at first, and indeed not for a long while afterwards. Eventually though, I came to realise that a Hogwarts staff family of sorts did exist and I'd effectively been disowned from it. I did try to 'fit in' better with my colleagues every now and again, at the Headmaster's request, but to be honest I didn't try very hard at this. It was no surprise therefore that my efforts (such as they were) failed signally. Invitations to a quiet drink after the evening meal, or to afternoon tea, or a walk to the village never came my way (though the staff threw these sorts of offers at each other by the bucketload), and any invitations which I issued were either declined curtly or not responded to at all. If I sat down by another professor in the staff room then they immediately got up and went to sit somewhere else. Parties were arranged for Christmas, New Year, the end of the school year and so on which I wasn't invited to. Sometimes I'd speak to one of the other professors and they'd ignore me, or pretend they hadn't heard. Of course, the most devastating blow of all was when Professor McGonagall refused to sell me any of her raffle tickets, which she touted annually around the staff room - all profits in aid of the Meliflua Kneazle sanctuary, with a first prize of three bottles of Samuel Meliflua's home made damson and peach wine. Oh, the devastation of it all! I wanted so much to help those little, helpless kneazles!
Well, you might say – and with some justification – that I deserved all of this because of my poor treatment of the students. I didn't see it that way at the time. (Pause for shocked exclamations). It just led me to resent my colleagues and turn away from them in contempt. If they didn't want to get along with me then that was their loss, I decided. And so I remained the outsider, the unpopular one, the loner. (Back then, I carefully repressed the thought that this was pretty much a repeat of my time as a student, but really there's no denying it). I sat detachedly alone in the staff room and read a book or a newspaper while everyone gossiped cheerfully to each other and paid no attention to me. I was among them, but not of them. Soon I made no attempt to be likeable or pleasant, and I responded to their snubs and hostility with contemptuous disdain. And so, life – of a sort – went on. Terms passed, years passed. I taught Potions, I dealt with Slytherin house matters, I was ignored by my colleagues. I made more studenty enemies, I made more adulty enemies. I annoyed the Headmaster, I saddened the Headmaster, I frustrated the Headmaster. And throughout it all, I grieved for Lily.
To tell you a little secret, if I may, I was deeply bothered by the fact that my colleagues held me in such open contempt – though of course I never showed this. It was stupid to feel that way, but there you are. Even I, the cold and distant Severus Snape, wanted to feel part of the community within the place where I lived and worked. I hated this fact but I couldn't help it, and I didn't see any way for things to be different. What I didn't realise was that my life was about to take an unexpected leap forward, and in fact everything would start to move in an entirely new direction. Do I have your undivided attention? In which case, I'll continue.
As you may recall if you've been properly taking note of my words of wisdom, I started this tale with a reference to myself and kindness. In the same sentence, even. You were doubtless wondering how such a thing might be possible, so let me tell you all about it. It happened a couple of years ago – specifically, on Tuesday 31st of October, 1989. As was usual on Halloween, I was particularly foul mood due to the unpleasant remembrances of that day. Lily's imaginary voice (which as I mentioned earlier, regularly persisted in trying to get my attention) could never be shut out on the anniversary of her death. That one fact, in a way, was basically responsible for everything that took place from that point forward.
At the end of the afternoon, I took a first year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class which included a boy by the name of Joshua Hutchinson. He was a muggleborn student from Hufflepuff, always talkative, over-friendly, hardly able to sit still for ten minutes straight and to be frank, annoying on about thirty different levels while in a classroom setting. At the end of the lesson, I called for the homework which I'd set in the previous lesson to be handed in, but this boy dared to tell me that he hadn't done it. The other students stared at him in fascinated horror. They knew the drill, inexperienced as they were; after all, I'd worked hard to build up my reputation. I demanded to know why there was no homework present, but Mr. Hutchinson just looked at me sanguinely and said;
"Please Sir, could I speak to you alone about it?"
Now, normally I like an audience when I'm humiliating a student so I would have refused, but the horrified looks on the faces of his classmates were so rewarding to behold that I immediately agreed to talk with the boy privately. One of the Ravenclaws silently mouthed "Don't do it!" at the hapless Hutchinson, who didn't even notice. And so, I gleefully sent the rest of the class on their way and led the young victim to my office.
"Well, Mr. Hutchinson," I said sternly, "do please explain to me what was more important than completing your assigned homework. And I hope for your sake that you had an exceptionally good reason for failing to hand it in."
"I'm really sorry that I didn't finish the work, Professor," he said, with what I have to admit was obvious sincerity. "I know I should have done it. But you see, last night I got upset because I haven't made any friends here so I'm lonely, and I was crying for ages in my dorm, and then after that I fell asleep."
His words had an extraordinary affect on me; I felt as if I'd been stabbed in the chest. In fact, I actually looked down for a moment like an idiot to make sure that I hadn't been. When I looked up again, Mr. Hutchinson was staring at me hopefully. Honestly, what was the child thinking? Being so open and honest with me, telling me he'd been crying and was lonely, admitting that to me of all people… didn't he see how I could use these facts for his eternal humiliation? Oh but then, yes, then it got even better.
"Do you have any ideas for how I could make some friends, Sir?"
I looked at him in disbelief. Yes, he really was asking me, the students' terroriser, for assistance. All of my instincts yelled at me to crush the boy like a beetle, but Lily's illusory voice intervened forcefully.
Don't shout at him, he's just an innocent boy! Teach him something useful, Sev, like you once taught me about magic when we were his age. Help him, Sev, please!
Even though I knew full well that this was basically me talking to myself, I found that I could not ignore Lily's voice on this occasion. I sighed and told the boy to sat down; this would clearly take a while.
Now, for any of you who might be interested in pursuing a teaching career in future, let me give you a piece of advice: don't bother. Situations like this make the whole job a bore. But if you should become a teacher anyway and a student comes to you for help, here's a tip – don't just leap in and tell them what the problem is and how they should sort it out. Making assumptions in that way simply imposes your view of events onto the student, when you might be entirely wrong. In this case, the obvious answer to me was that Mr. Hutchinson needed to stop acting like a hyperactive and garrulous idiot, but there might be other, hidden factors in play. Advising a student is a careful business; it's important to ask the right questions and listen closely to the answers, also to watch the student's expressions, take note of the tone of their voice – and to pick up on what isn't being said by them. That was how I operated with my Slytherins, but I'd never before assisted someone from another house in the same way. However, somehow I'd ended up in this situation so I decided that I might as well get on with it. Mr. Hutchinson was looking at me eagerly, and I gave him a stern glare in response.
"I will do my best to help you, Mr. Hutchinson, but in return you must promise me not to tell anyone else about this conversation. Is that agreed?" The boy nodded firmly. "Good. Now, firstly let us deal with the matter of your missing essay. I will give you until next Monday's lesson to complete it and hand it in to me. You will also serve detention with me on Monday evening."
The boy looked pleased, as well he might; I could have done a lot worse. "Thanks for not taking points, Professor."
"Well, if the idea is for your fellow students to like you then you losing house points is hardly the way to do it," I commented. He smiled at me shyly. For some reason he wasn't afraid of me; I can't imagine why, but I suppose there are exceptions to every rule. "Now, if I'm to advise you properly then it would be helpful if firstly you could tell me a little bit about your background and home life, if you don't mind."
The boy clearly didn't mind. His expression brightened, and he started firing facts at me loudly and with incredible rapidity. "Sure! Well, I live in Bispham, which is in Blackpool, that's in England, but I don't live right in the centre of town, it's like a suburb, so it's close to the sea and you can take the tram into town, or the bus, but it's a bit quieter as well. Dad says that's better because you can get to the beach whenever you like but the loud drunks on stag do's don't come nearby, and I like it because my best friends live round the corner. We have a big house too, I live on York Road and my room is great, there's loads of space, and we've got a nice garden to mess about in. Dad and Uncle Maurice and me have games of cricket there, and Mum plays too, but she's a bit rubbish to be honest, though she is good at judo and I've learned bits of that from her. There's a tree that I can climb right to the top of all on my own, not with magic or anything, and another tree that Uncle Maurice climbed up with a ladder to put a bird's home on, and some sparrows moved in and had baby sparrows last year, which was cool. Oh, and there's a pond where Mum keeps koi carp, she spends ages checking the water and feeding them and looking after them, and I usually help her at weekends. She takes them to shows and everything, they win prizes sometimes. People think that only dogs go to shows but that's not true, there's lots of ones for fish as well…"
Apparently no family problems, I thought. Close to his parents and uncle; he looked proud when he talked of them. No mention of siblings. Perhaps missing the close proximity of his old friends. Feeling homesick, I suspected.
"Mum works at Tesco, she does shifts, but only for four or five hours at a time so that's good. Dad's an author, he writes short stories for magazines and stuff so he works at home, and he's always there when I finish school. We have cookies and ice cream together sometimes and I always tell him all about my day. I'm good at Maths and Geography, though I'm not that good at English, but Mum says as long as I try my best then that's okay. The teachers are all really nice but Miss Foster is the best, she teaches History. I like to play cricket more than football, though I do play football at school and I'm quite good as a goalie, Kieran says. He's my friend and so's Ravi, we all hang around together. They've started at Rowenbrook School this term and I was supposed to be going there until I found out about Hogwarts. It's cool here, but… anyway, Uncle Maurice runs a tailor's shop, and sometimes he makes clothes just for me, though they're nothing like the clothes that people wear around here. He takes me walking with him in the Lake District on Sundays sometimes, and we have lunch in a pub on the way, though I only have soft drink of course. And I haven't even told you about Frosty! He's my dog, and he's called Frosty because his fur is all white. He's really friendly. I love him lots, and I like most other dogs, and I suppose cats are okay, but they don't seem as much fun because lots of times they won't let you stroke them and you can't take them for a walk, so..."
Definitely homesick, then. Not just for his home and family but also for his pet, his friends and his old school. The fact that he was speaking about those things in the present tense was telling; he hadn't yet accepted his new reality. This was a boy who had been required to leave behind a life which he loved and had exchanged it for one which he was unsure of, and which he possibly considered to be bewildering and disappointing. No mention of accidental magic in his earlier years, though he presumably did perform this. You would expect a muggleborn who talked about their pre-Hogwarts life to refer to any previous experience with magic. Uncomfortable with his own magical ability, perhaps? Wishing that he wasn't a wizard? I decided not to ask him about that, because it wouldn't be profitable to focus on what might have been instead of what was. (I also noted the comment about his struggles with English lessons, which explained why his writing on Potions essays was perennially sub-standard).
"Thank you, Mr. Hutchinson," I said, interrupting him before he could say any more. "You have given me a clear picture of your background. Now perhaps we should talk about Hogwarts. How are you getting on in your other classes?"
He frowned a little, speaking more slowly this time. "I like Astronomy and Charms. Astronomy's really good, that's my favourite subject because we have a telescope at home and sometimes Dad and I use it together, so I know stuff from then. I'm getting really good marks in that, but I don't know what any of the History of Magic stuff is about, and Defence Against the Dark Arts class is a bit difficult too. Herbology's okay, I suppose. Transfiguration is cool, but kind of tough."
I nodded. At Potions, Mr. Hutchinson showed some skill and could (if he worked hard and calmed down significantly) potentially get an Exceeds Expectations when he took his OWLs. The rest sounded reasonable; his issues with Defence and History were probably attributable to the dire standard of teaching in both classes. (You'll know about Professor Binns, of course, and the current year's Defence professor was – like a number of her predecessors – barely scraping the surface of adequacy). "Transfiguration is a complex subject, but work hard and you'll master it. You will find Professor McGonagall very helpful with any questions or concerns. I would suggest that you supplement your History of Magic classes with a little self-study. The events being covered will make more sense if you have a practical knowledge of recent magical happenings. I'd recommend reading 'Our History is Told in a Few Key Moments' by Rafian Ammershot. It's a well-written book which covers some of the great events in international magical history – you will find it in the library."
He beamed at me. "Thanks Professor, I'll go and look at it after dinner."
"Good. As for Defence, well… it might be worthwhile looking for some practical assistance from an older student. I would suggest that you speak with a Hufflepuff prefect and ask them if they can help you to find a student tutor. A third year student or above would be best, someone who can meet with you once a week and help you to refine your repertoire of basic defensive spells."
"I never thought of asking someone else for help," he said. "Are you sure they wouldn't mind?"
"That is why you speak to the prefect first, Mr. Hutchinson. It's their job to help you. They'll find someone for you who's competent at Defence and willing to provide the tutoring sessions. Perhaps it will be a student who remembers how hard they found studying Defence in their first term, and as a result would welcome the chance to make your initial journey into defensive magic a little easier than theirs was."
There was a look of awe on his face as he considered this. "If they did help me, then when I'm a couple of years older, I could look after someone else who was in their first year and teach them magic if they needed it. That would be good, wouldn't it?"
I nodded encouragingly. "It would indeed. Students can impart knowledge in this school as well as the professors, you know, as long as they've learned enough to do it properly. Now, it's important to want to excel at your studies, but don't ask too much of yourself. It's your first term and you've been pitched into a new and confusing environment; doubtless many things seem strange to you still."
I saw immediately that this had hit home. "Sir, it's just like that! Six months ago I didn't even know that witches and wizards were real, even! And the others, they talk about things and I try to ask questions but they say I'm stupid and I should know that already, and it's obvious and everyone knows that so why am I asking?" In his voice I heard a reflection of the superior, derisive tone which his fellow students had presumably been using to speak to him.
"Such comments only highlight how ignorant they are," I said sharply. "What's obvious to students from magical families will be new to you, and to every other muggleborn student. Imagine how clueless they would be, if they'd turned out to be a squib and had to attend a muggle school instead!" I paused for a moment, thinking it through. "How many other muggleborns do you know in first year?"
"Erm, I think two of the Hufflepuff girls are, and there's a few in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."
"And are they having the same issues?"
He blushed. "I think it's just me. There are lots of things I don't know. I'm not sure what a squib is, even."
"A squib is someone who comes from a magical family, and their relatives are all witches and wizards, but they can't do any magic themselves. It's quite a rare category of person, which is probably why the word is unfamiliar to you. However, whenever someone uses that term in future, you'll know what it means. The same goes for every magical word – you may feel uninformed now, but over time, that feeling will fade as your knowledge grows."
"I suppose so." The boy looked at me sadly. "The thing is, I don't think the others like me, Professor. I don't think anyone does."
"This takes us back to where we started, doesn't it? Your struggles with making friends. Can you tell me a little about that?"
He shrugged. "The other Hufflepuff first years, they stick together and I'm one on my own. I try and explain stuff about home, but they tell me that I use words which don't make any sense. They say that I might as well be a muggle. And they make jokes about me and the way I speak. Sometimes they mimic me and laugh."
Hmm, that was surprising. The boy had a broad Lancashire twang in his voice but that shouldn't be an issue. Hogwarts takes in students from all over Britain and Ireland, and many of them spoke with the normal accent of their part of the country. It was unusual for someone to be mocked for the way that they talked, especially in Hufflepuff.
"Have any of the other students overheard this and intervened?"
"No, Sir. It's been in the dorm, mostly. They just ignore me in the common room."
"So, do you mainly have problems with the Hufflepuff first year boys?"
"Well I suppose so. I don't know any of the girls very well. They go round in a group and they're always giggling to each other." He pulled a face. A typical eleven year old boy then, preferring the company of other boys but being excluded from the group that he spent most time with.
"How about the other students from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor?"
"I like most of those Sir, but—"
"Yes?"
"Just… they seem to stick with each other. I've asked some of the Ravenclaws if I could join them to study but they said that they've got enough people in their study group. One of them told me I was too noisy and it would be hard to concentrate with me around."
I could hear the embarrassment in his voice as he answered my questions. "I apologise for needing to ask you these things," I said, "but you see, I'm trying to get to the root cause or causes of your problem. You had friends in your old school, so I know that you're able to get people to like you."
"But it's different here," he protested. "Nothing's the same."
"You're wrong," I told him. "Underneath all of the magical trappings, it's exactly the same. Human beings are no different anywhere, whether they be magical or not." I hoped the boy kept his promise and didn't tell anyone I was saying this, because the Slytherins would think I'd been hit in the head by a bludger if they found out. "The other students see you as different, so they're making fun of you in every way that they can come up with. Don't muggle children do exactly the same thing? If someone is perceived as being the 'odd one out' then anything about them is targeted for criticism by their peers, even something as innocent as the accent which they use."
"It's okay to speak like this though, isn't it?"
"Of course it is. It's part of who you are. They're being idiots to even say such a thing."
He relaxed slightly. "But Sir, what can I do about it?"
Now this was the tricky part. I had to convince him to make some changes in how he interacted with others without seeming to criticise him, or he would simply think I was blaming him for everything and withdraw from me. It really wasn't his fault – children could be utter swines at times, but he did have a couple of habits which might irritate his contemporaries, and that message needed to be conveyed tactfully. As there was only myself in the room, this obviously wasn't happening. Still, I did my best.
"Peer pressure is a powerful force when students start to get to know each other. It only takes one or two influential children to decide that they don't like someone and then others adopt those same attitudes, for fear of being treated badly too if they fail to adopt the perceived group opinions. That's your situation at the moment, Mr. Hutchinson. However, perhaps things can improve for you if we apply a little logical thought to the problem."
He looked worried. "I'm not very good at logical thought, Sir."
"Well, there's a surprise," I drawled. To my surprise, he laughed at this. "Anyway, you need not be concerned as I can help with that side of things. I would like your permission to relay a summary of this conversation to Professor Sprout. The attitudes towards you are at risk of becoming dangerously entrenched, and we will need her assistance to change them."
"Do we need to tell her, Sir?" he asked anxiously.
"I would prefer to. You see, she can talk to the other boys in your dorm and persuade them to act more appropriately. They need to be reminded that they're Hufflepuffs like you, and therefore they should be loyal to a housemate. If I am the one to tell her then she can truthfully state that another professor brought the problem to her attention, so they won't blame you. As their head of house, Professor Sprout will be able to speak to those students in confidence and find out if there's anything else that you may have inadvertently done to cause offence. There might have been a misunderstanding of some kind which you don't know about. Why, would you rather that she wasn't told of this?"
"No… it's just that I can be a bit clumsy at times in Herbology, and Professor Sprout told me off the other day for knocking over a tray of plants."
"I see. Well, she is still your head of house and she would want to know about this situation. She's very supportive of the students in her care, you know. I would ask you to trust me on this."
"All right," he said reluctantly.
"Good. I will speak with her after dinner. She'll want to see you, I am sure, and you have my permission to talk to her about this conversation. Now, let's think about other measures. You said earlier that the other students don't understand when you tell them about your home life. Now, I know something of the muggle world, but if that were not the case then there would have been a number of things that you mentioned before which would have confused me. For example, you said that your mother works at Tesco. A better way to phrase it for magical audiences might be to also explain that she is employed in a very large muggle shop that sells food and household goods. Even using the work 'supermarket' would probably be a waste of time, since that concept hasn't taken off in magical shopping yet."
"Oh!" he said, looking pleased. "So, it's like I have to say things in ways that compare to how witches and wizards live?"
"In a way, yes. A little explanation here and there would be beneficial. Nobody around here except other muggleborns would probably know what a 'stag do' is, or a 'goalie'. However, most of what you said was understandable by all, except perhaps, if you'll permit me to suggest… you might want to talk rather than nearly shout, and also to speak at a slightly slower pace? You poured out information about your home circumstances like water from a fountain!"
"My Mum says I can talk the hind leg off a donkey!" he declared cheerfully. I recognised the phrase; it reeked of old, unwelcome familiarity. I'd often heard it said by the elderly woman who lived two doors down from me in Cokeworth when I was growing up.
"The other three legs too, I imagine," I commented after a moment.
He giggled. "You're really funny, Professor." Well, that was a first. It reminded me that Lily and I used to imitate some of the adults living in Cokeworth during the school holidays and repeat all of their silly sayings to make each other laugh. Lily could always come up with something for me to laugh about. I pushed away the thought and looked back at the boy.
"I appreciate the compliment, but I would just advise you to try and restrain yourself a little, should you become too… exuberant. And I'm sure you know from past experience that part of being a good friend is listening while others talk."
"Yeah," he said, blushing a little. "I'll do my best. I talk a bit fast and loud when I'm excited, but I'll try not to. Mum and Dad used to say the same sometimes, though they're used to it."
"Of course they are. Well, I would also advise that you keep asking questions about the magical world, but not of your dorm companions, not yet. Make a list of all of the expressions and customs which you don't understand and bring it to your detention on Monday, and we'll work through it then."
"I will, Professor." He grinned at me cheekily. "I'll put 'entrenched' at the top of the list and 'inadvertently' just below that."
I found myself having to repress a smile. "Inadvertently means by accident, and entrenched refers to something which has become firmly established and will be difficult to change, like your presence in this room, for example." He giggled, and I rolled my eyes at him theatrically. (You know, I could teach eye rolling at OWL level if I wanted to).
"Also Mr. Hutchinson, I do want you to have that chat with the prefect which I mentioned earlier. If they can get you a Defence tutor then eventually the other first years will hear about it. They'll probably be jealous. They might ask you if they can join in those sessions, to which you should agree. Many a close friendship has been forged through studying together, in my experience."
"That's what I was hoping when I asked the Ravenclaws if I could study with them," he said eagerly.
"You had the right idea, and it still might work. Perhaps, though, you should start off with some small-scale arrangements. Astronomy is a strength of yours, so if you see someone struggling with that then offer to help. Alternately, try flattery to get people to help you. Identify a classmate who's good at something and ask them an sensible question about that topic. It doesn't even matter if you know the answer to it already. Say that you've come to them because you can see they're really clever with the subject concerned. It's worth a try, anyway."
"Okay, I will."
"Excellent – and with regards to your dorm companions, the next time one of them makes fun of you for something muggle-related, ask them outright if they are a blood purist or not. Say to them that they're talking just like Slytherins do about that, so you're wondering if you need to be worried about your safety."
His eyes widened with astonishment. "You want me to insult Slytherins?"
"No, I want you to compare those students to Slytherins. If I'm right then the comparison will be so unwelcome and disturbing to them that it will act as an incentive to change their behaviour. And also, something we haven't discussed yet – how about flying and quidditch, do those things interest you?"
"Yeah, I love flying, and I really enjoyed watching the quidditch game two weeks ago, though I still don't understand the rules, and when I asked—"
"Quite. So then, find the quidditch fanatic in Hufflepuff – there's bound to be at least one – and ask them to give you some practical quidditch coaching. Tell them that you'd like to try out for the Hufflepuff team next year or something. As for the rules, we can cover those now." I spent the next ten minutes explaining how quidditch worked, and adding what I little I knew about professional play as well.
"Well Mr. Hutchinson, we've covered a lot of ground and the Halloween feast will begin shortly, so I will finish by telling you to stand up for yourself and be confident. Believe me, you have nothing to be ashamed of. If people make fun of your accent, tell them that you're proud of it and you don't care what they think. If they mock you for not knowing something, you could point out that you've only been around magical society for a few months and naturally you won't know everything yet, and then emphasise the point by listing a few of the muggle things that they won't know. Be assertive and don't let them see when they've upset you. If you want to stay away from female friendships then that is your choice, but you are ruling out half of the student population as a potential friend right from the start. I was friends with a girl when I was your age and we got on well. And finally, remember that things will take a while to change, so don't be discouraged if progress is slow. We'll have another talk on Monday evening and you can tell me how you're doing. You'd better be on your way to the Great Hall now."
"Okay, Professor!" he said, jumping up. "And, well, thanks. You've been brilliant."
"You're welcome, Mr. Hutchinson."
He smiled at me brightly and waltzed out, leaving me to contemplate how far from my normal persona I had strayed during the last half an hour, and to wonder what the consequences of that would be.
Well done, Sev! I knew that you could be a good person, if you only tried!
Bugger.
