Chapter 12
In the waiting room next door, everybody was trying to talk at once. Professor McGonagall decided if she was going to change, now was a good time to start.
"Silence! There is no need for all of you to stand around needlessly. Mr. Fred and Mr. George Weasley you may return to your dormitory immediately." When they failed to start moving, she added, "NOW." Which got them heading out the door.
"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, you've both had a rather large shock to your system tonight. I will consult Poppy, but I think some Dreamless Sleep potion would not be amiss. Remus, would you stay with them for a few minutes while I talk to Poppy? Then you need to see her as well," she said, giving the werewolf a look that brooked no argument.
Returning to the Hospital Wing, Minerva consulted with Poppy. It was now nearly 6 o'clock and the castle would begin waking up shortly. Sending her two Gryffindors back to their dormitory would just cause more chaos. While Mr. Weasley had slept for a while, Miss Granger hadn't. She'd pretended to be asleep, but when Harry hadn't returned, she couldn't rest. Poppy agreed that it would be best to let them sleep in the infirmary for a few hours or else they'd be right back begging to sit with Harry until he woke up. Minerva retrieved her two lions and sent them back to their beds. This time she was sure they wouldn't leave them for several hours.
##### Hope is Fleeting #####
In the dungeons, Severus Snape had just tossed his empty glass of twenty-year-old Glenfiddich Reserve Single Malt Scotch at the fireplace. He wanted to throw the piece of parchment in his hand in there as well, but something made him refrain from it. The messy spiky scrawl so familiar to him held some truths he'd rather not acknowledge. He reached for a new glass and filled it up, then read the letter again.
Dear Professor Snape,
I know you are probably jumping for joy knowing you no longer have to deal with a Potter in your class. You are a small contribution to this fact too.
Before I came to Hogwarts, I read my Potions book from cover to cover and thought it was a subject I would love and be good at too. Then I walked into class and found out my professor was an overgrown bat with a previous history of disputes with my father and couldn't get over them. You were petty and unfair in your treatment of everyone except the Slytherins. In that first class, while you were giving your speech about the possibilities potions could bring, I was writing everything down. Then you demeaned and degraded me for not knowing things that weren't in the first year's potions book or even the second year's either.
I don't know what caused you and my father to get along about as well as I do with Draco Malfoy, but I am not my father. I don't even remember my father. The only thing I remember from my time before I was dropped off at the Dursleys was my father telling my mother to take me and run. Then I hear Voldemort telling my mum to step aside but she wouldn't. Then there was this green light and that's it. The only reason I remember that much is due to the dementors.
Tonight, you wouldn't even listen to what Sirius Black had to say. You convicted him without a trial too. If you'd waited just a bit longer, you'd have discovered that Peter Pettigrew was alive and was responsible for the deaths of my parents. But you didn't. I have no regrets about stunning you. You were so happy that you could finally get one over on him. You were so happy that the Minister was going to give you an Order of Merlin for catching him. I bet you would have gone and dragged the dementors in if he'd let you.
The reason I say you're a small part of the reason I'm no longer here is you remind me every day, sometimes multiple times a day, of the Dursleys. They were mean and cruel. They told me I was a freak. That I didn't deserve to breathe the same air that they did much less eat any of their food. If I made a perfect dinner, they would tell me the roast was too done or not done enough. There was no satisfying them. You're the same way. There is nothing I can do to make you treat me like a regular student. You aren't happy if you're not making someone else feel inferior.
I have one last thing to say, "GROW UP." You're an adult – act like one! You're supposed to be setting the example for the students. The only example you're setting is how to throw a continuous temper tantrum for thirty-odd years. If you can't, then resign and go do something you like because you obviously don't like teaching. Or do you get off on how many kids you can make cry in one day? You should meet the Dursleys so you can discuss 1001 Reasons Why I Hate Harry Potter. I'm sure you'd find kindred souls with them.
James AND Lily Potter's son,
Harry Potter
Severus threw the second glass against the fireplace and watched it shatter. He'd been told many things over his lifetime, but being the cause of someone's suicide was not one of them. Damn!
Once he'd sent his Patronus to Dumbledore telling him Potter wasn't in the dungeons, he'd washed his hands of the whole thing. Potter had already upset his evening routine by running after a killer, then taking his side. The nerve of Potter for stunning him. He should be expelled! Then he'd read the letter he'd been given and everything fell apart.
He'd made an oath to protect Lily's son and he'd failed. He'd failed because he WAS too busy trying to get one over on Potter Senior to see the abused little boy that was Potter Junior. He'd always thought there was something wrong with the boy. He was too small. Severus had never seen him in anything but oversized castoffs when he wasn't in his school uniform. He reminded him too much of himself and he'd ignored the signs. Now it was too late. He gracefully got up from his chair to make the long trek back to the Hospital Wing.