I'm alive! Yes, I know it's been months since my last upload, but real life was horrendous. I'll explain more in the end notes (I hope you do read them, there are a lot of important updates I need to mention). Anyways, this is a special one since I'm uploading it on my birthday. Enjoy the fic!
The first time it came up was while he was pushing for the portrait of Severus Snape to be instated into the Headmaster's office.
Harry knew that, as a headmaster, his efforts were undeniable. It was only due to his influence that the Carrows were reigned back even slightly. While they still terrorised students during their ruthless reign, he shuddered to imagine what it would have been like without Snape mitigating their cruelty.
But even so, as he watched the portrait finally being placed alongside those of the former illustrious heads of his alma mater, Harry found that he still couldn't sort through the mess of his feelings regarding Snape as a teacher, or as a person.
He sighed in relief as he held the letter in his hand, a tawny Hogwarts owl standing regally on his work table.
His old dream of becoming an auror had suffered a serious blow after the conclusion of the wizarding war. No matter what he tried, he couldn't erase the memories of all those vacant faces, friend and foe alike, staring at him almost in condemnation. He knew he couldn't bear it as often as he would have to if he enrolled in the Auror Corps. While he would fight to defend those he loved, he wouldn't – couldn't – chase after criminals for his entire career.
Yet, at the same time, he remembered how he felt while heading Dumbledore's Army. The happiness he felt while teaching others, their joy at mastering a spell rubbing off on him, was the only reason he had managed to survive under Umbridge.
He had to admit it was easier than he expected to find someone to sponsor his mastery in Defence Against The Dark Arts, considering he did technically drop out of school before his seventh year, but he had been able to take his NEWTS at the Ministry after a few months of intense study, and while his other marks were good but not extraordinary, his score in Defence was the highest recorded in decades. Add to that the fact that he had taken down the most fearsome Dark Lord to have walked the British Isles, and it made slightly more sense as to why it was so easy.
Which brought him to where he was, with an offer for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. A small smile graced his face at the thought of his journey coming full circle. He'd begun his magical journey in the majestic castle and, if he had his way, would end it there too. It helped that Voldemort's curse had finally broken.
He knew that, at a mere twenty years of age, he would be among the youngest teachers ever in the history of Hogwarts, beating out even Severus Snape who himself had made waves with his appointment.
And that was where a part of him balked. Because he knew that, unintentional though it may be, many would draw comparisons between him and the former Potions professor. Both had shown interest in other career paths before, but after experiencing war, decided to become teachers instead. Yes, the reasoning was different, with Snape doing so in order to prevent another war or at the very least minimize the possible damage, while Harry did so both due to his love of teaching and his aversion to actively seeking out more death and suffering, but the general public wouldn't be privy to such knowledge.
He couldn't honestly say that he was keen on such a comparison.
He walked into class, breathing deeply as he felt the atmosphere one could only find in a Hogwarts classroom wash over him. It hadn't been a week, but he could already tell that he would never get tired of the heady feeling.
He waited at the front, leaning against his desk as a batch of first years trooped in for what was to be their first lesson with him. He could see their eyes widen in awe when they saw him before them, and almost smiled when he overheard their furious whispering.
"Alright, quiet down," he said, and was pleasantly surprised when they did so instantly, focused on him.
"Some of you may wonder why this course is separate from the other classes, when almost all the spells taught her could potentially fall under either Charms or Transfiguration. While that is true, the spells you'll learn will have components that are unique to them. They'll require a strong and agile body, a sharp mind, and the ability to adapt."
He could see most students were hanging onto his every word. But whether it was due to his fame or due to the impact of his little speech, he didn't know.
"While the same may apply to other spells, it is not as important as with those you'll learn with me. These spells have been designed with combat or self-defence in mind, and it is my duty to ensure that you will be able to utilise these in situations where you will be put under pressure, where you won't have enough time to carefully evaluate each and every move and where immediate action is imperative."
He could see a small hint of fear in some of their eyes. He almost grimaced, guessing that he may have gone overboard in his description. He had never been the best with words, with both Ron and Hermione able to attest to how often he put his foot in his mouth. But he reigned it in, knowing that he had to comfort them with the rest of his speech.
"But know that it will be highly unlikely for you to face such threats. Us teachers are here to protect you," even though nobody was there to help me "These are meant to ensure that if you ever do find yourself in such a situation, that you would be equipped with both the means, the skill and the mental fortitude to take it on."
His eyes swept across the room, taking in the varying expressions. Some of them still looked apprehensive at the thought, while yet others were intrigued. A few, though, were almost vibrating in excitement, eager to begin their lesson.
A brief memory flashed before his eyes.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
A wry smile worked its way across his face. How ironic that he imitated the one teacher he loathed. But even then, he knew that both speeches gave completely different signs to the students. With Snape, one knew he was a harsh taskmaster, one you would never want to cross, and that he wouldn't accept mediocrity. If the faces he saw before him gave any indication, then he could say that he let himself appear more approachable, and forgiving of mistakes if one learnt from it.
At least, he hoped.
And yet, part of him wondered if he was being too lax, or if Snape was just as harsh a teacher as he recalled.
He had just turned a corner when he caught a glimpse of spell fire. Without a second thought, he rushed forward, his wand drawn and a shield charm ready to be fired. He crossed the hallway in seconds, the small crowd of students instantly parting before him.
He saw two boys, a Hufflepuff and a Syltherin, glaring daggers at each other, their wands gripped tight enough for their knuckles to turn white. They couldn't have been older than third years, yet it seemed like they had a mutual animosity which reminded him of how he had been with Malfoy back in his own school years.
As if only to further drive the point home, he saw another Slytherin, most likely a friend, standing next to her housemate, her hand covering her mouth and tears welling up in her eyes. Before Harry could even ask what happened, he saw a hit of teeth poking out from below her palm, causing the young girl to become even more frantic as her incisors continued to elongate.
Harry saw red. The memory crashed into his mind as his entire body shook, causing the students to step back once they felt traces of his magic lashing out in anger.
Hermione, almost weeping as she tried to hide her lengthening teeth, her face flushed with shame.
Snape, an impassive look on his face, not even acknowledging her distress.
"I see no difference."
Harry strode towards the two boys, who instantly cowered when they saw the unadulterated fury in his eyes.
"Both of you, to my office, now," he barked. "Wait for me there, and I'll decide on your punishment once I get her to the Hospital Wing."
He could see a protest forming on the Slytherin's lips. But he cut it off with a glare. "I will hear the full story after I return. And trust me, I will be asking everyone else present as to what actually occurred as well, so don't even think about lying."
Without another word, he turned back the young girl, noticing the silent tears that were streaming down her face. He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, noting that she jumped in fright upon contact. He filed that away for later, instead giving her the most reassuring smile he could.
"Hey, it's alright. Let's just head over to Madam Pomfrey, shall we? She'll get your teeth back to normal before you know it."
He felt the girl relax slightly as he led her towards the Hospital Wing, but a small part of his mind was still fixated on the memory. While he may be conflicted on many aspects of Snape's character, that incident was on he could never forgive.
"We'll be welcoming a new Potions professor to the castle after summer break."
Harry's eyes instantly focused on McGonagall, startled at the sudden declaration. "Why, Headmistress? Does Professor Slughorn wish to retire?"
"It does seem to be the case, Harry," the former Transfiguration professor replied. "He is of the opinion that he's grown too old to handle the strain of teaching, especially after the toll the Second Wizarding War had on his psyche."
Harry frowned slightly. While he may not look favourably on Slughorn's habit of scouting those who could one day become famous, he did feel that the portly man was an excellent teacher and a competent Head of House. It would be a shame to see him leave.
"Who's going to be joining us then?" Harry asked. It had been barely a couple years since he'd joined the Hogwarts faculty, and it felt off to see staffing changes to positions other than Defence Against The Dark Arts.
Flitwick was the one to respond. As Deputy Headmaster, he was also aware of any new hires.
"She's actually a year-mate of yours. You remember Tracey Davis, don't you?"
Harry's eyebrows scrunched as he recalled a face connected to the name. From his recollection, Davis was a Slytherin, but she'd never really interacted with his group much. That was mainly Malfoy and his ilk. In fact, she almost seemed eager to maintain some distance between herself and her housemates.
He hoped that she would be a good fit. All he hoped was that his opinion wouldn't be coloured by the sour experiences he'd had with a certain other Potions professor from Slytherin.
He made his way down the familiar dungeon pathways, six years of memories allowing him to reach his destination without much thought. Ever since McGonagall had become headmistress, she'd insisted that any new teacher should have at least three inspections held randomly in order to assess their quality. It seemed that the memories of some previous hires were still too fresh to ignore. It may be too reminiscent of Umbridge for his liking, but he had to admit the idea had merit.
He pushed open the heavy door, expecting the dark and gloomy room he'd grown used to, only to be met with a warm yellow glow. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sudden influx of light, noticing that Davis had hung a number of small lanterns throughout the classroom, leaving it far brighter than he ever recalled it being.
The students glanced up at the noise, a little surprised to see Harry there. Knowing that it was better not to disturb them while they were brewing a potion which could very likely go wrong with the slightest slip of concentration, he nodded in greeting, indicating that they ought to focus on their work.
Honestly, Harry himself was surprised to have been assigned the duty of inspecting the class, since it was usually conducted by the senior teachers. But McGonagall felt that since they were year mates, Davis may respond better to his presence than to her former professors'.
Davis herself was bent over the cauldron of one of the students near the front of the class, muttering something that was too soft for him to hear. But, from how the student was nodding along and seemed to show a spark of realisation, he assumed that she was most probably telling him where he went wrong and how he could correct it.
And that in itself was a major difference to his own experience. He could still recall clear as day, how Snape stalked across the classroom, breathing down their necks, daring them to make a single mistake.
His thoughts shifted track as Davis straightened up, briefly meeting his eyes. Even though he had seen her quite often ever since she arrived last week, it still surprised him at how much she'd changed since they both were students. Her dark brown hair was shorter, barely falling past her shoulders, and her face had lost some of its roundness, although he would admit that it only made her better looking. Yet the biggest change was in the eyes, but then again, the darkness he saw in them was something which was quite common in almost all the survivors of the war.
His musings came to an abrupt halt as her voice cut through the relative silence of the classroom.
"Pay attention, students, this will be important. Mr. Wagner here added his porcupine quills slightly too early, and you can see that the potions is purple, rather than the dark blue it should be."
Once again, the memories assaulted him, and he wondered if this was going to follow the same path he'd once witnessed.
"Orange, Longbottom, orange. Tell me boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours?"
Neville's clear embarrassment, the jeering of Draco and his clique, Snape's razor-sharp sneer.
"At the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage to do it properly."
Neville's palpable fear, Hermione whispering furiously in a desperate attempt to help the poor boy. Him somehow correcting his mistake.
Snape's sour look when Trevor successfully shrunk.
"Five points from Gryffindor. I told you not to help him, Miss Granger."
Harry was ready to jump in if Davis was going to threaten Wagner's pet, or worse, the boy himself, but the next words made him almost fall to the floor in shock.
"However, this is a very common mistake, one you may encounter if you're trying to brew this potion in an emergency and don't have time to start over. The remedy is relatively easy. All you have to do is add two Doxy eyes and increase the heat..."
The rest of Davis' words filtered out of Harry's ears as he discreetly sighed in relief. Maybe, just maybe, the next generation wouldn't go through what they went through.
The second inspection, once again, fell on his shoulders. This time, he felt far less apprehensive, but there was still a nagging thought in his mind. It was, after all, a joint class between Gryffindor and Slytherin. While tensions may have eased slightly after the conclusion of the war, the animosity between the two houses was far too great to be erased in the mere five years that had passed. Part of him suspected it would never truly fade away.
Still, they were in the last fifteen minutes of class, and so far, there was no sign of any mishaps. Davis was far more lenient and approachable than Snape ever was, but she also made sure that her students understood just how dangerous a potions accident could be.
Harry was in a corner of the classroom, observing how the students were brewing, and more importantly how Davis was interacting with them, when he caught a hint of motion out of the corner of his eye. His wand immediately shot into his hand as he saw one of the Slytherins throw something towards a Gryffindor's cauldron. The spell was at the tip of his wand, but he knew that he was too far away, too slow...
The projectile, which he now recognized as a Dung Bomb, halted in his tracks, courtesy of a livid Tracey Davis. He eyes instantly zeroed in on the Slytherin, who looed shocked that he had been caught in the act.
"A week's worth of detention, Mr. Sanders," she hissed dangerously. "And thirty points from Slytherin. I will not tolerate anyone intentionally endangering one of my students."
The Slytherin shrunk under the twin glares from both professors, while the Gryffindor kept thanking Davis for her saving his potion, and him from spending a night in the hospital. Meanwhile, Harry looked at her with slightly impressed look. Even Slughorn wouldn't have done much since he usually avoided the house drama, while Snape...
Snape would have most probably found a way to blame the Gryffindor.
Harry felt the last of his misgivings vanish. Yes, Davis would most certainly be a good professor.
Two years had passed since Tracey joined the Hogwarts staff, and every interaction with her had let Harry know that Snape's behaviour couldn't be explained simply by stating that the attitude was necessary for a Potions professor. Comparing the two was almost like comparing night to day, but still, part of Harry believed that there was an explanation hidden somewhere.
He opened the Daily Prophet, catching up on the most recent news as he ate breakfast. He grinned lightly at the heading in the sports section. The Holyhead Harpies had steamrolled their opposition, and the picture showed Ginny in the forefront, celebrating with her teammates.
His relationship with Ginny was still strong, but it wasn't the same kind of relationship they had before the war. Conflict had changed both of them, and they realised within a week of getting back together that they wouldn't have been compatible.
The break up had been mutual, with no hard feelings on either side. They still remained close friends, and Harry was happy to know that she had been in a serious relationship for almost a year.
He, on the other hand, didn't have the best luck in the dating pool. He already spent most of his year at Hogwarts, and in the two months of summer, any interaction he had usually fell through spectacularly, either because the individual was after him because of his fame or because of his horrendous social skills.
He was internally taking the mickey out of his non-existent love life, which Ron loved to do until Hermione hit him over the head, when he saw a shadow fell over him. He glanced up, his brow quirking in surprise.
"Tracey? What are you doing here?"
He'd developed a warm friendship with the Potions professor in the past couple of years, but she would usually refrain from coming up to him in the morning. According to what he knew, she wasn't really a morning person.
He saw the annoyance in her eyes as she slapped her hand on the table, rattling the cutlery.
"I need a favour, Potter."
He winced at the loud noise, as well as her method of addressing him.
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Harry?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
"A few more times, I think," she shot back, a bit of her usual cheek colouring her tone, but it instantly vanished. "We're going out together on Friday."
He choked, a light spray of coffee hitting the paper in his hands. "Excuse me? What?"
She grimaced. "Lost a bet with Sinistra. She's making me do this."
For a moment, Harry didn't know whether to be offended or amused. He decided on the latter, a small chuckle escaping his mouth. Tracey was just like that, never beating around the bush and with very little filter.
"Sure, but don't expect anything fancy on such short notice."
Her grimace faded, a smirk taking its place. "I thought you knew me, Potter. You know I prefer a grimy pub over any of these fancy restaurants."
"That makes it much easier for me," he quipped, another laugh bubbling out.
She gave him another smile, before twisting on her heel. "Don't you forget it."
As he watched her walk away, all Harry could think of was that he had thought all the craziness in his life would have come to an end after he became a teacher. Clearly, he was wrong.
The Three Broomsticks was noisy as always, many drunk patrons shouting at one another in an alcohol-fuelled haze.
Tracey laughed, not caring about propriety or how she looked as she threw her head back in genuine mirth. "I've got to say Potter, I never expected for you to be such a comedian."
Harry laughed alongside here. "And I never expected to survive five minutes of this 'date', let alone an hour."
"Oh, don't sell yourself short. It's not my fault the only people you've gone on dates with are either gold-diggers or stuck-up prudes."
He reared back in mock offense. "I take offence to that statement!"
"Well, it's true, so not much you can do about it," she said, sending a slightly drunken smirk in his direction.
A small lull descended on their conversation, causing Harry to turn away for a moment to observe the crowd. It may have been half a decade, but the paranoia that had been instilled in him during the Horcrux hunt refused to fade.
"You know, he wasn't as chummy with the Slytherins as you think he was," Tracey said abruptly, causing him to jump.
"Who are we talking about again?"
"Snape," she replied, noticing the abject confusion on his face. "I know you were expecting me to be similar to him when you first came to inspect my class. It was quite obvious in how you acted."
Harry blushed in embarrassment. Had it really been that telling? A mortified apology slipped past his lips.
"Doesn't matter," she assured, "I should have expected it after how he acted during class. Considering his blatant favouritism of his own house, who wouldn't suspect that his students would wish to emulate him?"
"So why didn't you?" he asked, his interest piqued.
"Well, mostly because, whenever he entered the Slytherin common room to interact with the students, he would almost mostly ignore those from families that were either minor or inconsequential in his eyes. But, for some reason, he did emphasise that the half-bloods in the house, like myself, should not be persecuted for our status, even if he didn't really spend any time talking to us. He was usually accosted by Malfoy and those like him, most of them children of Death Eaters."
Harry once again felt the jumble of emotions he associated with attempting to decipher Snape rear its head once more. Everything Tracey told him simply made it even more confusing. If Snape really only wanted to focus on the children of Death Eaters, why would he ensure that the half-bloods in his house weren't being attacked? Or were his actions simply yet another cover for when he would have to return to spying on Voldemort? And why would he still act like he favoured all of Slytherin house when in class with the other houses?
Once again, Harry failed to understand the actions of the late Severus Snape.
He reclined against the soft leather, allowing his surroundings to slowly fade out. It wasn't exactly sleep, but one couldn't call him awake either.
He needed the rest after the year. While he never lost his love for teaching, he had to admit the two months before summer break had been nothing less than gruelling. He still couldn't fathom how so many of his fifth years managed to get injured or fall sick a couple months before their OWLs, and have to stay in the Hospital Wing for a considerate length of time, forcing him to cram a number of last-minute revision classes to help them catch up. He deserved his break, honestly.
His thoughts were broken as he felt a weight land on his lap, instantly jolting him out of the calm stupor he'd sunk into. His eyes shot open, only to land on a head of wavy brown hair and a pair of mischievous blue eyes.
"Did you really have to knock me out of my rest like that?" he grumbled, although there was no real bite in his words.
"Yes, yes I did," she said, a smug air about her.
He glared for a moment, before a rueful laugh escaped him. "If I'd known this is what I'd have to deal with, I never would have gone past the first date."
Tracey pouted, but the mirth was evident in her sparkling eyes. "You know you love me."
That was an argument he didn't really have a comeback for.
Harry was honestly shocked that he'd managed to be in a relationship with Tracey for almost two years. After his previous experiences dating, he'd almost resigned himself to being a bachelor, but Tracey had managed to either slip or smash through all of his barriers. He knew that if it didn't work out with her, he probably had no hope left. Or at least, that's what Ron liked to say before Harry shut him up by pointing out that the red head was even worse and was lucky that Hermione loved him enough to overlook his idiocy.
He once again reclined on the leather sofa, allowing Tracey to drape herself over his body. He felt more comfortable than he had in a long while as he listened to her soft breathing.
"The last month really was something, wasn't it?"
He gave a soft sigh at her statement, although a slight smile did grace his lips.
"Don't remind me," he said, faking a groan. "The sooner I forget about it, the better."
"Still," she persisted, "you didn't rush to any decision that day, did you? Merlin knows any other teacher would have when they saw what had happened."
He could recall what she was referring to with little difficulty. He had been heading to class after lunch when he heard a commotion round the corner. The moment he came around the bend, he saw a Gryffindor laid out on the floor, holding his obviously broken nose as a seething Ravenclaw stood over him, her hands balled into fists.
He knew any other teacher would have instantly assigned her detention and taken off points, but something about her posture had given him pause. And, to the surprise of every single student gathered, he'd dragged both students to the Hospital Wing and interrogated both of them as the young lion had his nose healed.
He was thankful that he did. As it turned out, the Gryffindor had been insulting her and her family for the past week, ever since an article in the Daily Prophet had revealed that her father's business, one that was well known in the upper echelons of society, was soon to go under due to issues with the work force. The Gryffindor, a nephew of the largest rival company, had seen it as the perfect opportunity to gloat.
In the end, he'd given both of them detention. The Ravenclaw shouldn't have resorted to physical violence, but the Gryffindor was most definitely at fault too for having needled her for so long.
He shrugged, looking away from Tracey. "I just didn't want to accuse anyone falsely. I wanted to ensure that the students could trust me as their teacher."
After all, he could remember the ramifications of a teacher blaming someone without evidence.
"Severus –" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him.
"I've told the Headmaster time and again that you've been helping your old friend black in the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout –"
"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything — I can explain — Sirius is not here to kill Harry —"
"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this. . . . He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin . . . a tame werewolf —"
He shook himself out of the memory. He'd promised himself when he became a teacher that he would never allow himself to follow that path.
He didn't notice Tracey's eyes watching him intently, picking up on his unease.
The paper slipped out of his hands, hitting the table with a soft thump.
"Harry? What's wrong?"
Tracey knew that it would take a lot to shock her partner like that, so she was understandably concerned.
Harry simply pointed to the headline. In loud, eye-bleeding font were the words: ALECTO AND AMYCUS CARROW DIE IN ATTEMPTED PRISON BREAK!
She went over to him, laying her hand against his shoulder. "Do you feel bad for them?"
He let out a shaky breath, before composing himself. "No, they deserved it. Worse, after what they did at Hogwarts."
Tracey herself glared at the image of the two convicts, the horrors of their reign at school still crystal clear in her mind. Yet, she tore her gaze away, knowing Harry needed her more at the moment.
"The what's bothering you so much?"
Harry stared off into the distance, before looking back at her.
"Why did he try so hard to protect everyone at school? After everything he'd done to us in the previous six years, why change suddenly? It doesn't make sense. If that was who he was, he wouldn't have done it for any reason. If his previous actions were a cover for his role as a spy, why risk blowing it at the most crucial moment in the war?"
Tracey was silent for a moment, before hesitantly responding, "Maybe there were lines eve he wasn't willing to cross."
She could see in Harry's eyes that he wasn't convinced by the answer. Truthfully, neither was she. Her former Head of House was an enigma almost too complex for them to ever understand.
She woke up, only to see that the bed was empty. But the sheets were still warm, and she knew that Harry had only recently gotten up.
She slowly lifted herself off the soft mattress, reluctant to leave the comforting cocoon of her blankets, but she knew that Harry most likely needed her right now. Her feet padded along the carpet, making her way to the balcony. If there was any place where Harry would spend time so late at night, it would be there.
As she reached the small sill, she saw that her assumption was accurate, with Harry leaning against the railing and simply gazing at the moon. The pale light washed over his face, accentuating the lines that creased his forehead.
Tracey leaned against his shoulder, giving a light kiss to her husband of nearly three years. She didn't need to ask what was wrong; she knew he would open up by himself.
A soft sigh escaped him. His tired eyes met hers, green boring into blue.
"Tomorrow's the tenth anniversary of when I defeated Voldemort," he said, "And I feel like they may ask me to say something regarding Snape. I was, after all, the one who pushed to have his portrait included in the Headmaster's office."
"And you're uncomfortable with that?" she asked.
Another sigh escaped him, more forceful this time. "It's more like I'm worried about how they would take it. If I speak about him, I will not sugar-coat it, and that may cause those who see him as a martyr to come after me."
Tracey frowned. She knew Harry hated having to deal with the media, especially after his experiences during his teenage years.
"Harry, you shouldn't care about what they say. The only ones who may do that are those who hadn't studied with him or had to study under him. They would definitely understand your opinion."
He shrugged, knowing it to be true. "Still doesn't mean I'll like it."
She pushed his shoulder lightly, a small grin on her face. "And when did that stop you from doing anything?"
Finally, he smiled back. "You've got me there."
The sea of faces were focused solely on him, causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end. He glanced around, feeling a hint of nerves settle in. Yet, seeing Tracey's encouraging smile at the forefront of his vision gave him the push he needed to start speaking.
A lull fell over the audience as Harry applied a sonorous charm on his throat. He coughed lightly, clearing his voice, and began to speak.
"Severus Snape was a complex man," he said, forgoing any introduction. "When I first met him, I saw him as nothing more than a teacher who hated me, and enjoyed being rude to every student except those in his own house. I think my entire experience with him is most likely coloured by the animosity the two of us shared.
"It was only after he passed away that I came to know more about the man, and those revelations rocked me to my core. Ever since that time, I'd always struggled to understand who he was as a person. To be honest, I still do.
"Don't get me wrong, he was nowhere close to a perfect human being. He was bitter and spiteful. He could hold a grudge longer than anyone you know. He was closed off and almost unapproachable. I still recall how he used to treat my classmates during our lessons. Till this day, I do not know if it was a cover for when he had to become a spy once again or if what he truly was.
"However, I also know that in the first war, he risked his life by defecting to Dumbledore, maintaining the dangerous position of a spy among Voldemort's ranks." It said a lot on how they had moved on when the name elicited such a minimal response. "And even when the second war broke out, he was in the midst of it, continuing to supply information regarding the enemy. He spent the last year of the war doing his best to mitigate the impact of the monsters stationed at Hogwarts.
"He may have been many things, he may have been someone I loathed, but he was also arguably the bravest man I ever knew."
And that's a wrap! Wow, was that a ride! Huge shout out to the homie daittya on AO3 for beta-ing this fic. I really appreciate it.
Anyways, I promised y'all some updates, so here we go!
First, I've done a littke collaboration with my man Maroon Smoke, the author of the insanely good fic 'The Flip of a Coin'. Definitely go and check it out, you will not regret it, and keep your eye out for a familiar face in Chapter 23.
Also, my server is now a joint server between myself and Maroon Smoke, so if y'all wanna interact with two authors, head on over to my profile and find the link to the discord.
Ok, in other news, the Road to Tranquility sequel! Yeah, that's been delayed a lot, hasn't it? Well, I do have a reason for it. First, my senior finals were postponed, and only finished last week, so I didn't really have any time to plan or write. Also, I'll be going on a month and a half long vacation in 3 days time where there's no internet access, so I would feel really bad if I just posted one chapter and put it on hiatus. But trust me, I'm coming with a lot of good stuff once that vacation is over, for the RTT sequel and other projects.
And I guess that's it for updates. Let me know what you think of the fic, join the discord if you wanna chat, all that good stuff. See y'all very soon. Peace!