Chapter 2:

James and Sirius took their seats without a word. Moments later, Professor McGonagall swept into the office and slammed the door in her wake. She turned to glare menacingly at the troublemaking duo. "You better have a good explanation for this."

"Sniv—Severus was asking for it." Sirius insisted stubbornly.

"Do you boys have any idea how disappointed I am in you? You disgrace yourselves and the noble legacy of Godric Gryffindor with this repulsive behavior." She paused to let these words sink in. But when James and Sirius remained unperturbed, she continued.

"Severus Snape can barely walk or sit. Ms. Evans says he has spoken of killing himself. What on earth could he have done to deserve what you so viciously—

"It's a House Rivalry thing!" Sirius blurted. "Haven't we been at war with Slytherin for nearly a thousand years?"

"Yeah!" James emphatically agreed. "Professor, can you honestly say that he isn't at fault for how despised he is? He's obsessed with the Dark Arts. He associates with the sleaziest people in the entire school. His hygiene is more than disgusting; it's a public health hazard. These traits don't exactly endear him to anyone."

"Enough!" Professor McGonagall slapped her hands on the desktop, silencing James and Sirius' attempts to justify themselves. "One hundred points will be taken from Gryffindor, and you will both serve a month of detentions. Has it crossed your mind that Severus might not be so interested in these, er, aberrant forms of magic, if he wasn't constantly in fear for his own safety? And what have you done to assuage those fears?"

"Yes, but—"

"And has it never occurred to you that Severus might be a little more attentive towards his grooming and hygiene, had you not made him a pariah from Day One?"

"Snivellus made himself a pariah!" James protested. "I've never met anyone that smelled so disgusting, I literally gag when walking past him. Someone this filthy should not be allowed to—"

"I don't care if Severus hasn't washed his hair in ten years!" Professor McGonagall shouted, slapping her hands on the desk. She quickly composed herself. "James Potter, you seem to think that you are incapable of doing wrong, simply because of your Quidditch prowess."

James froze as the conversation steered to a topic that he was desperately hoping to avoid. Quidditch was sacred! How could anyone challenge him or cast doubt on his character when it came to Quidditch? Besides, every student in the school hated greasy old Snivelly! Including Lily Evans, albeit she was too saintly to admit it.

"And speaking of Quidditch," Professor McGonagall drew a deep breath, and gazed longing at the gleaming Quidditch Cup that had been her pride and glory for the past four years. But her resolve was unwavering. "I'm afraid I have to remove you from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team—"

"WHAT?" James shrieked, involuntarily leaping to his feet.

"—For the remainder of your time at Hogwarts."

For the first time in many years, James had lost every ounce of his characteristic swagger. Gone was the cocky, loudmouthed, attention-seeking Quidditch phenom. Gone was the indefatigable confidence that his wit, humor, and talent would suffice to maneuver him out of any sticky situation. Gone was the assurance that no matter how many points Gryffindor lost due to his antics, his popularity was unassailable. James felt that he had been hit by a bus.

"Professor, you can't!" James pleaded in a whiny, desperate voice that was not his own.

"I can, and I must," she responded tartly.

"But our match against Hufflepuff is tomorrow! For the Quidditch Cup! You can't ban me on such a short notice… there won't be enough time to find a replacement Seeker! We'll be destroyed if I don't play!"

Professor McGonagall shook her head firmly. "You should have thought of that before you decided to behave in such a manner."

"Don't you care about Gryffindor winning?" James continued to protest.

"I do. But I care more about the man you grow up to be. If this is what it takes to straighten you up, so be it."

This is ridiculous! James silently fumed, his cheeks flushing with indignation. A hot, prickling sensation was beginning to seep into the corners of his eyes. Beneath the table, he clenched his fists so tightly, the skin on his knuckles was on the verge of splitting. How can she kick me off the Quidditch team—the day before the biggest game of the year? Just to defend Snivelly's honor? Who is Snivelly, anyways? Nobody important.

Professor McGonagall was not the least bit swayed. "Your first detention is tonight after dinner. You will be cleaning out the lavatories for three hours without the use of magic. If I receive any reports from Mr. Filch of your noncompliance, your punishment will be doubled."


James and Sirius stomped out of the office and down the corridor. As soon as they made sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot, James let loose an angry string of profanity. "She can't stop me from playing tomorrow! I'm playing whether she likes it or not."

Sirius plucked a hair off his head. "Polyjuice Potion. You go as me tomorrow. She never said that Sirius Black was banned from playing Quidditch."

"It's too late!" James snapped. "It takes a month to brew Polyjuice Potion, and the match is tomorrow!" James rumpled his hair and rolled his eyes. "What a hypocrite. I thought she cared about Gryffindor winning. Or was that all talk?"

"I know," Sirius said reassuringly. "If she cares this much about Snivelly, she really needs to get her priorities straight."

As James and Sirius passed through the corridors, they were heartily greeted by throngs of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and (to a much lesser extent) Hufflepuffs heartily congratulating them on their latest humiliation of the ubiquitously detested Severus Snape.

James' stomach throbbed excruciatingly and his heart wrenched as he climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was covered from floor to ceiling with gold and scarlet banners celebrating Gryffindor's inevitable victory. Mountains of sweets and butterbeer bottles covered every table in sight. A twenty-foot tall poster of James grinning smugly, with the Quidditch Cup in his hand and the entire Hufflepuff team kneeling down to kiss his shoes, decorated one wall. The heading ALL HAIL KING JAMES flashed in pretentious glittering letters.

Another poster depicted the Gryffindor Lion with the Hufflepuff Badger clamped in its jaws. Yet a third poster showed a triumphant-looking James standing atop a mountain, brandishing the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, with a decapitated Snape lying at his feet. Throngs of chattering students were scattered throughout the common room, engaged in spirited discussions about tomorrow's match. The only debate seemed to be whether James would catch the Snitch in five minutes, or whether he'd wait ten as a show of mercy.

If only they knew, James thought savagely as he brushed off the excited but benignly oblivious revelers.


"I'll kill them!" Snape's shoulders trembled with rage. The despondent Slytherin was lying on his stomach on a bed in the Hospital Wing, with Madam Pomfrey and Professors Sprout and McGonagall hovering over him. As a frequent victim of hexes and flying fists from his multitudes of enemies, Severus Snape was a regular denizen of the infirmary. He wanted to die from pain and humiliation, as he desperately tried to block out the sounds and sights of his classmates laughing uproariously as he was displayed for all to see—naked, bruised, bloodied, and thoroughly subjugated. But those images were seared into his mind as though branded by a hot iron. No matter how hard he tried, he could not suppress them. "I'll get Potter and Black if it's the last thing I ever do!"

Snape let out a shrill scream of agony and disgust, and elbowed Madam Pomfrey away, when she attempted to lower his trousers and shorts. The nurse winced sympathetically as she withdrew her hands. "NO!" Snape screamed so loudly, his throat ached and his vocal cords felt every bit as lacerated as his buttocks were. "I REFUSE!"

"Severus, please hold still. know this is uncomfortable, but I need you to undress in order for me to treat—"

"I don't care!" Snape screeched. In a fit of delirious rage, he seized a water pitcher from the nightstand and smashed it onto the floor. "I am NOT undressing for any of you!" His obsidian eyes glared reproachfully at the three adults.

Professor Sprout spoke gently. "Severus, be reasonable. You've lost a lot of blood, and have open wounds on a very vulnerable part of your body. They will become badly infected if left untreated. Is it worth clinging to your pride for these measly few minutes, if it costs you your health in the long run?"

"I don't care," Snape snarled again.

"Mr. Snape, watch your tone," Professor McGonagall snapped. She drew her wand with great conviction. "This matter is not up for debate. You will lose this attitude and accept whatever treatment Madam Pomfrey deems necessary, or we will adopt stronger measures to ensure your compliance."

Snape's thin, sallow face was burning with mortification, but he knew better than to continue resisting. The Deputy Headmistress was a woman of her word, and never said things that she didn't mean. Snape nervously eyed the wand in Professor McGonagall's hand, before lying back onto his stomach and allowing Madam Pomfrey to get to work.

"I'll kill them!" Severus screamed as his wounded backside was exposed against his will, for the second time in less than an hour. Pure, unmitigated rage flashed in his eyes, "I'll get my friends to teach me the Cruciatus Curse, and Potter and Black will rue the day they were born! Then I'll kill their entire families, and then I'll get a bunch of—"

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey interrupted. Snape calmed down but continued to glare reproachfully at her through bloodshot, watery eyes.

"Young man, I'm concerned about the people you call your friends."

"What about them?" Snape spat angrily.

"I think you know exactly what we're talking about," Professor McGonagall responded crisply. "Mulciber? Rosier? Avery? Bellatrix Lestrange? Lucius Malfoy? These individuals, I am sorry to say, have sold themselves to a world of lies. They have chosen a very dark path to follow—a path that will lead only to death or Azkaban."

"My friends are no worse than James Potter and Sirius Black, but I don't hear anyone complaining about those two!" Snape screeched. Overcome with rage and indignation, he lashed his hand across a table, and sent a tray of medical tools clattering to the floor.

"Severus, calm down!" Professor Sprout attempted to diffuse the situation.

"SHUT UP!" Snape screamed, kicking over a lamp and smashing a bottle of purple potion onto the floor. "How dare you criticize me for standing up for myself! James Potter gets away with murder because he's good at Quidditch, but I'm the bad guy for finding my own group of friends to defend against—"

"Protego!"

Severus was thrown back onto the bed and forced to abandon any further attempts to demolish the Hospital Wing.

"Severus Tobias Snape, how dare you speak so disrespectfully? Five points from Slytherin!"

When the scrawny, greasy-haired, and hostile teen appeared to display no further signs of aggression, Professor McGonagall lowered her wand. "You call these people your friends, but let me ask you something. Which one of them stood up for you today?"

"None of them," Snape grouched.

"Come to think of it, in all your time at Hogwarts, when have they ever confronted your tormentors over the way they act towards you?"

"Never," Snape grumbled.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in understanding. "Now, which one of these so-called friends brought your predicament to our attention today, and made sure you received medical treatment before it was too late?"

"Nobody." Snape scowled at their persistent questioning. "What's your point?"

"The point is," Professor Sprout chimed in, "You answered no to each question. In other words, none of these people bothered to do anything when you really needed a friend. But there is someone who has always been there for you. Can you guess who that might be?"

"Lily Evans," Snape mumbled.

As soon as he uttered her name, tears began to well in his eyes. "Oh no, I ruined everything! Lily will never want to speak to me ever again. She was there for me when no one else was, but I've driven her away." Bitter tears of remorse and self-loathing streamed down his sallow cheeks. Safe in the Hospital Wing away from James and Sirius, the fear and humiliation had ebbed down, giving way to rationality. The truth was now painfully obvious. Severus Snape had been a fool. In a pitiful attempt at appearing tough in front of Potter and Black, he had thrown away the only friend he ever had. The only person who ever loved him in spite of his shabby appearance and abysmal hygiene.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a comforting pat on the back. "Nonsense. How could Lily possibly blame you for what happened today?"

"You don't understand!" Snape wailed. "I said something… something terrible to her. It just slipped out!"

"In that case, perhaps an apology is in order."

"It's too late!" Snape sobbed. Every ounce of Slytherin pride was surrendered as he mourned the loss of the only good thing he'd ever had in his short but miserable life. "I could apologize a million times, but it won't do any good!"

Professor McGonagall sat down next to him. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Severus, but hasn't Lily been bothered for years by the company you keep? The same group of students we discussed earlier?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Snape sniffed.

"Everything," Professor McGonagall asserted. "It's time you choose where your loyalties lie. You can call Lily your friend until you're blue in the face, but it won't mean a thing as long as you consort with these unsavory characters. Very soon, the war against Dark Magic will belong to your generation. Lily needs to see that you'll be fighting with her, and not against her, when that time comes. Only then will she accept your apology."

With fumbling fingers, Snape reached into his robe and ripped the Dark Mark pendant from around his neck, and hurled it into the fireplace. "I've been a damn fool! I have to go see Lily! Tell her how sorry I am… beg for forgiveness!" He made a furious move to clamber out of bed, but an explosion of pain in his bruised, skinned, bleeding backside sent him collapsing back onto the mattress.

Madam Pomfrey held up her wand. "You're not going anywhere, Severus. We'll summon Ms. Evans to the Hospital Wing. Now lie on your stomach. It's time for some healing potion."

Snape swore at the top of his lungs and bellowed out a lengthy tirade of macabre acts he wished to perform against James and Sirius, before finally and mercifully blacking out from the pain.

Lily will be visiting Snape in our next chapter. Can they salvage their friendship, or will it be too late?