I seem to have to say this a lot...my sincerest and deepest apologies for the delay in the chapter. I wrote myself into a corner on my other fic and spent one hell of a long time trying to work my way out of it, so this kind of got neglected in the interim. Then real life and work got in the way. I will attempt to be less useless in the future. In addition, this chapter has been an utter nightmare to write so honestly, feedback would be good. Even if you hate it - tell me! *hint hint*Any review makes a huge impact!
Anyhow, let's see if I can make more people cry...
Chapter 5
"Why didn't you just let me die?"
My heart breaks anew as I look into those dull, empty eyes. Those emerald green eyes that should be sparking with vigour and youth are instead blank and dull, with no sign of the courageous young man we have all grown so used to. Even his voice sounds different; no sarcasm hiding behind his words or any angry gibes, just flat and tired with no emotion or expression within it. This is isn't the angry young man who smashed up his Headmaster's office or the mischievous son of James Potter I have come to know over the years and that perhaps is the most terrifying thing of all. I could handle anger, could cope with hysteria, even fear or betrayal would be better than the absolute nothingness I see in front of me now. That nothingness scares me more than I care to admit. We may have saved the boy's life but what use is that if we have merely brought back the empty shell of the child we love. Is Potter actually too far gone for rescue? After all the times he's played the saviour, will he simply refused to be saved himself?
Have we brought him back from the very brink of death only to have to go through it all again the next time he's left alone, and God help us, we can't watch him forever. We saved the boy through extra-ordinary circumstances; by all rights and purposes, Potter should be dead. He planned it all out far too well and we were able to bring him back through luck and quick action, but all he needs to do next time is simply not leave a note to be found. There's nothing in his face, body language or tone to even suggest he has any indication to connect with the world or any of the emotions that he expressed in his note. No apology, no helplessness or pain. I could help to channel anger, could try to work through despair or fear, could calm hysterics or soothe pain but what can I do here? What can I do when faced with this empty, drained young man who seems to have given up on life? How are we meant to bring Harry back?
"Because we care about you, Harry," I say softly, desperately willing the boy to understand, to look at me, even to shout at me. "We all care about you deeply, not just me. You had an entire army of house-elves looking for you – what other student can claim that? Even Professor Snape cares."
"No, you don't," the boy in front of me responds flatly, not even reacting with disbelief or confusion to my deliberate comment about Severus. "You care about The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Golden Boy, the one who'll save the entire Wizarding nation once again. I'm not that boy. I never was. You could have let me die right at least."
I close my eyes against the helplessness that is rising up through my body. But it's not just helplessness that threatens to overwhelm me; the fear that I might still lose this child and the guilt over how much more I should have done are like tidal waves crashing through my emotions. The problem is that every word the wounded boy in front of me has just said is true. I cannot blame him for his assumption, I can't judge him for his actions, I can't even be angry at him however much I'd like to. Now the initial fear has run its course and the relief settled in, I should be able to feel angry at the boy for making such a selfish and horrific choice. But I can't. Because every word is true. No matter how much I want to deny it? It's all true. And I haven't been much better than the rest of the Wizarding world.
What did I do when he came to me with his concerns about the Philosopher's Stone? Completely valid fears as it turned out. Instead of attempting to investigate whether there could possibly be any truth to what the group was so desperately trying to tell me, I ignored their warning and sent them away with a flea in their ear. The Boy-Who-Lived once again faced down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. An eleven year old child took that burden on his small shoulders. What did I do when his best friends sister was taken into the Chamber of Secrets? What did I do when I knew that he was being reviled and mocked for being a Parselmouth or when he was isolated and alone due to those inane fears that he might be the Heir of Slytherin? I did absolutely nothing and once again Harry Potter ended up saving the day despite everything that had been said about him.
Despite everything a twelve year old boy brought Ginny Weasley out of the Chamber; he saved a girl we had all completely given up on. All of the 'responsible adults', with the exception of that fool Lockhart, were huddled in a group discussing plans to shut down the school and how we were going to manage it. Whilst we holed ourselves up in a room and gave in to the supposed inevitable, two twelve year old children not only found the Chamber of Secrets but then took on a basilisk on their own. It's not even as if they didn't try to get adult help, much like first year they tried approaching a member of staff, but Lockhart was even less use to them than I was with the Stone. At least I have the slim consolation that I have never tried to Obliviate them I suppose.
"We have all made mistakes, Harry," the gentle interruption from my side takes me by surprise and shakes me from my thoughts. I turn to find Filius standing at my side gazing up at the boy with concern and sorrow shining clearly in his dark eyes. I hadn't even heard him enter the room. "We are all human and we have all made mistakes. Our largest error must be that we have all been so impressed with your accomplishments and the bravery you have shown so many times over the last years that we never stopped to take what you felt into consideration. We never stopped to ask and to listen. You're right; we have let far too much rest on shoulders far too young to bear those burdens for so long. You have been expected to do far too much and none of us stepped in to intervene. We should have."
Throughout Filius' words Potter stared steadfastly down at his bed sheets with that same worrying lack of expression on his face. He doesn't even look up to register the fact that another Professor has joined the discussion. The silence seems to stretch on for hours with neither myself nor Filius knowing quite how to proceed; we need Potter to give us something to work with. We don't know what to do with this empty silence. But it's the silence that allows us to hear the quiet murmur that comes from the bed, so soft we can barely hear it even with the silence around us.
"My actions killed Cedric and Sirius," his eyes still don't leave the bed as he speaks. "They'd both be alive if it wasn't for me. I'm no Saviour. I never was and I can't be what the Wizarding world needs. That's not me. If I'm not here then maybe they have a chance. But they can't rely on me. I can't do it."
I exchange a silent, concerned glance with Filius at his words. I can't help but think of his actions then in third year when yet again all of the 'responsible' adults refused to accept the innocence of a man who had never been tried simply because of circumstantial evidence. Strong circumstantial evidence admittedly, but circumstantial nonetheless. None of us would lift a finger to help him and even actively helped to attempt to hunt him down so the Dementor's Kiss could be administered. None of us but Potter and his friends. The irrepressible and kind-hearted youngster in front of me was the only one willing to listen, to give the man he believed killed his parents the chance to explain and to make things right. Severus was in part right; it was extremely reckless not to mention potentially fatal and yet because of it Potter saved an innocent man's life just because he cares enough to listen and to believe when none of us would.
Three years running the child in front of us somehow managed the impossible, regardless of his age and relative inexperience, regardless of his treatment at the hands of his relative. Despite everything that should have stopped him, warped him or changed him, the boy managed the impossible and the Wizarding world loved him for it. Or so we thought. But again, he's right. They didn't love Harry, they didn't love the emerald eyed child who came so innocently to Hogwarts not even knowing his own past let alone the expectations the world had of him. They loved the image of him that they themselves had created. They loved the Saviour of the Wizarding world, the lightning shaped scar marking him as different, the bravery and the impulsiveness that made him stand out. They loved something which had never really existed. They never loved Harry for himself, they never saw the frightened child locked in a cupboard and let down by all those who should be protecting him, the boy hurt by those entrusted to care for him. They didn't want to see the terror lying so close behind the surface as he darted from one narrow escape to another, somehow always managing to come out with his head held high, despite none of us stepping in to intervene.
Until the Tournament of course. Until Cedric died. Until everything really started to fall apart and the Boy-Who-Lived fell from grace. But how can I judge? It wasn't as if I'd been much better.
"You didn't kill Mister Diggory or Sirius," I say, keeping the gentle tone Filius had set as I wrench my mind away from all those reflections of what I should have and focus solely on the pale boy in front of me. "Sirius was a grown man, more than capable of making his own decisions and choices…"
That is only partly true though, I reflect again morbidly. Sirius was barely twenty when he was wrongly arrested and thrown into Azkaban, and could never have been considered a particularly mature twenty. There were no signs of settling down like James and Lily. Had he been allowed to live his life, perhaps he would have matured, but twelve years in Azkaban doesn't leave a lot of time for emotional maturity. And unfortunately, Sirius was never one to listen overmuch to advice, instructions or orders. That had been his downfall many times in the past. He died as he lived; trapped in the mentality of a teenager and barrelling headfirst into situations regardless of the potential consequences, but I can't say that to Harry.
"…He made the conscious decision to go against Professor Dumbledore's very specific instructions to stay at Grimmauld Place and let the fully trained Order members go in." There's a brief flash of something I don't quite recognise in the youngsters eyes but it's gone almost as soon as it appears. "Under no circumstances am I blaming Sirius for his own death, you understand. It is simply that you cannot take responsibility for either his actions or the actions of the Death Eaters. It wasn't your fault. Cedric…"
Here I stop for a long moment, arching my fingers over the bridge of my nose and pinching down wearily. That is a loss that still runs deep within all of us, regardless of House affinity or how well you knew the young man personally; he was a striking figure on and off the Quidditch Pitch, was genuinely helpful and friendly and was the School Champion to boot. Pomona and her Hufflepuff's may have felt the loss more keenly, but it had a distinct impact on all of us. It suddenly became clear to everyone that nowhere was truly safe and age was not a factor either. We were all vulnerable.
"…Mister Diggory was a truly tragic loss we will all agree, but neither of you could have anticipated the events of the Third Task. Nobody could have. You were the one who gave his parents the gift of at least having their sons body to mourn over." Still the boy refuses to look at me, refuses to acknowledge what I've said and I feel my heart breaking all over again. "Harry, please listen to us. If you'd have seen the looks on your friends faces that night you'd understand just how much they care about you, just how much we all do."
"Of course he doesn't care," the biting tone from behind me cuts straight through my attempts to get through to him and I turn in horror to see Severus leaning carefully against the door of the Hospital Wing with a sneer fixed firmly upon his face. "Why should he care about anyone else? After all he is the boy who lived, it's everyone else's responsibility to care about him, not the other way round after all."
I can't believe what I'm hearing. Severus' hatred for James Potter is well known but I cannot believe I am listening to the man taunt a boy who nearly died, a boy he himself tried so very hard to keep alive. I thought we were past this. I thought the events of the past days had changed things, that Severus had moved past this petty hatred. Glancing across at Poppy I can see that she looks just as horrified as I feel; we didn't drag the child back from near death just to watch him be humiliated and mocked. I opened my mouth to give Severus a piece of my mind, regardless of the two students in the wing just as a sharp pain in my elbow jolted me suddenly. No diagnostics were needed though; that was almost certainly a carefully aimed Stinging Hex.
I glare furiously down at Filius. Considering that Potter's wand has been confiscated for his own safety and Severus is paying me little heed, there's little doubt that Filius was responsible for that hex. It may well be two members of faculty receiving the sharp end of my tongue at this rate regardless of his reasoning. I haven't been subjected to petty hexes in many years and I don't plan to start now, duelling champion or not. Filius however does not seem to understand the meaning of my glare, or he does and completely disregards it. Instead the smaller man rolls his eyes slightly and motions sharply across to Potter with his head. Despite my fury, I look over instinctively.
For the first time since he woke up I can see real emotion in those striking emerald eyes as he glares hatefully back at Severus. The emptiness that was causing me so much concern has vanished at least for the moment and the anger flashing so strongly actually fills me with a surge of hope. Severus' tactics may leave a lot to be desired, but despite everything his harsh and unfair words have provoked a response from the boy where both I and Filius failed. I don't know whether that was Severus' actual intention but judging from the slight smirk that graces the man's lips, it certainly crossed his mind.
"Why should our resident celebrity care about the chaos he wrecked by his selfish and completely irresponsible actions?" Severus continues in a slow drawl and I watch Potter's fists slowly clench on the bed. "Why should he have to care about how terrified his 'friends' were? How devastated they all are? After all, everyone else is just an inconvenience to the Boy-Who-Lived aren't they? He didn't have to look them in the eyes when they realised what he was planning to do."
"What do you know about it? How the hell can you judge?" Potter finally snaps, eyes locked on the Potions Master. "You hate me. You always have. You're probably just disappointed they saved me."
Glancing over at Severus I'm surprised at the obvious flash of anger in those dark eyes quickly suppressed and hidden. It's that flash that drives home to me exactly what the man was trying to achieve with his cruel and cutting remarks. He wasn't trying to hurt the boy further, he was attempting to bait him in the way only Severus could, he was trying to get a reaction out of the boy. He certainly succeeded.
"They saved you?" Severus remarks quietly, eyes never leaving the child on the bed. "Who do you believe these they are, Mister Potter?"
There's a flash of uncertainly on Potter's face as he glances between me and Poppy. Slowly his eyes go back to Severus. They widen as he recognises the importance of the word Severus was stressing so obviously. They. The flush of anger that had risen up the boy's face at Severus' previous comments vanishes, leaving him deathly pale. He looks so vulnerable as he gazes at Severus' in horrified confusion that it's heart-breaking.
"You?" He asks disbelievingly. "Why would you…"
"Yes, Mister Potter. It is within my responsibilities as a member of staff to attempt to keep the students alive long enough to graduate, after all," Severus responds drily. "Who else do you think would be accomplished in the muggle concept of CPR to keep your heart beating despite your astonishingly thorough attempt to stop it? Considering your track record so far that was quite an impressive achievement."
Those emerald eyes impossibly seem to widen further. I'm unsure as to whether it is at Severus' admission that he can perform CPR and did so to save James Potter's son or at the closest I have ever heard the man come to actually complimenting a Gryffindor. The latter even surprises myself and I find myself glancing sharply at the younger man once more. The fact that Potter was so near successful is not something we should be complimenting him on.
"You weren't meant to find me," the boy murmurs quietly responding to Severus' second comment rather than the first. "Nobody was meant to find me." He looks up sharply and I can't express the relief I feel at seeing some form of expression in his eyes, some form of connection to the world. "How did you find me?"
"That I could have deduced without your wondrous insight, Mister Potter," Severus drawls in an almost bored tone. "Unfortunately you did not factor your fellow students having light sleeping habits into your plan, nor the tenacity of the Hogwarts house elves when put to the test for that matter."
If it wasn't such a serious situation I'd almost be amused at the looks of utter confusion on both Potter and Poppy's face. It's as if Severus is talking about the weather and had I not seen how frantically he worked to save the boy's life I'd almost believe he honestly doesn't care. If I hadn't watched just how lost he seemed when the boy was taken out of his hands I'd truly believe he was completely heartless. But I did see and I did watch.
"Severus, I believe that's quite…" Poppy starts authoritively walking towards Severus.
"No, Poppy," the man cuts over her with practiced ease completely ignoring the look of utter fury on the medi-witches face. There will be utter hell to pay after this. "I do believe the boy deserves to be informed of just how near successful he was and how much effort was required to save his foolhardy skin. After all, it proves he's good at something."
Potter flinches and I can't bear to see the anguish in his eyes but still Severus doesn't take his eyes off the boy, the only sign that he knows I'm about to interfere a sharp movement of his hand. I desperately want to combat his words, to tell Potter just how much he means to everyone here; not just for the saviour, not just for the pawn, but for Harry Potter, the hurting, terrified child. Harry Potter, the boy no-one seemed to see. Harry Potter, the child who was asked to do far too much and given so little in return. But something in that hand motion makes me stop. Something makes me wait. Severus clearly has something planned.
"I see you for what you really are, Mister Potter," Severus' voice has changed somehow; become softer, more gentle but I from the look of terror Potter shoots him I doubt the boy has registered that fact. He's waiting for Severus to confirm his complete lack of worth, he's waiting to be told just how right he was and the thought clearly terrifies him. "Just as you wrote; Only Professor Snape sees what I really am. Those were your words, correct?"
The nod the child eventually gives is almost imperceptible but I know for a racing certainty that Severus caught it. I find myself desperately hoping my trust in Severus is not misplaced. We have already broken the boy once, if Severus does it now the damage will be irreparable. He's made contact with the boy; he's somehow managed to pull him out of the nothingness that existed when myself and Filius tried. If he breaks him now I swear I will kill him with my own two hands. That's if Poppy doesn't get there first.
"You are quite correct. I see who you really are, Mister Potter," Severus continues in that strange almost gentle voice, so at odds with his normal temperament. "I don't see you as a saviour or a hero or a pawn. I see a stubborn, wilful and incredibly tenacious young man who nearly gave us all a heart attack when he attempted to throw his life away. Believe it or not I include myself in that sentence."
He stops briefly looking at the boy as if judging if what he was saying was being absorbed. From the look on Potter's face, it is. Tears have welled up in those striking eyes although he appears desperate not to let them fall.
"I see a strong-willed young man with both an astonishing knack for causing trouble and a fixation on saving those he cares about. I see a young man who has come through more than should be possible. I see the man you could become, the influence you could wield, the potential you have. So you were wrong. It has perhaps taken me a long time to realise it, but I can see your mother."
There's utter silence in the room as everyone stares at Severus in complete shock. After so many years of hating Potter for having his father's face, that was the last thing that any of us expected. The tears that had been held so stubbornly begin to fall down the young man's cheeks even though he doesn't make a sound. If we weren't looking at him I doubt we'd even realise he was crying. What child has to learn to cry silently? How did I never realise? They has been under my care for over five years and I never noticed anything. I never saw Longbottom either.
"I didn't work to save you because you are Lily Potter's son though or because of some inane prophecy," Severus finishes quietly, his dark eyes shining slightly. "I saved you because despite every foolhardy, brash and insane stunt you have successfully stumbled through by dumb luck and guidance during your years here, you have the potential to be an exceptional young wizard in your own right."
Suddenly Severus seems to realise just what he's said and who he has said it too.
"If you do decide to do something quite so dramatically and astonishingly stupid again though, Potter," he remarks with complete precision and control. "I will be highly tempted to finish the job you started and believe me; I have far more painful methods at my disposal."
Severus turns to walk out the walk out the door but stops suddenly.
"Perhaps you ought to take a new title. The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again perhaps?"
Well. Some things never change.
