Chapter 4:

Accolades of the Past

It was after midnight and Hogwarts Castle was still. The usual clamour of students attending classes was replaced by a silence which seemed to ooze from the old stone walls as the castle slept.

Not everyone was asleep. A certain Potions Master was walking silently along the corridors. Severus Snape had learned some interesting information which suggested some students might be up after hours. Thus he too was also up.

During supper that evening, Snape had overheard Draco Malfoy talking with his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy had said enough to convince Snape there was reason to believe some Gryffindors might break a few rules, such as being out of bed when they shouldn't be. The main culprit, of course, was Harry Potter. Snape felt no surprise. The boy showed little to no regard for rules and breaking them seemed very much in his range of talents.

Over the last month, Snape had seen very little evidence of any real misbehaviour, it was true. But he did notice other things. For one, Potter was abysmal at Potions. Even when he claimed to have studied, he still managed to fail. And from snippets of conversations Snape had gathered in the staff room, the boy didn't have much, if any inclination towards schoolwork. It was as if he thought he didn't need to study.

Just like a Potter.

Snape continued stalking the empty halls, peeks of the moonlight shining through the high windows and mixing with the long black shadows. Snape moved swiftly. He was soon on the third floor. He met not a soul until he came to the trophy room. Here he encountered two; the caretaker Mr Filch and his ever watchful cat, Mrs Norris.

Mr Filch was an unpleasant man with long unruly hair and a nasty personality. There was only one thing he and Snape had in common. They both hated everybody.

"Ah, Professor," Filch said with a yellow-toothed smile. "Out catching delinquents, are you? Grand night for it. Had any luck?"

"None," Snape replied. "And you?"

"Quiet as the grave. Only mice."

Snape's eyes darted to Mrs Norris. The cat had a mouse tail dangling from her mouth. Snape looked back to Filch.

"Just so you know, I heard a tip about the possibility of a student or two being places they shouldn't be. Might want to keep your eyes open."

Filch grinned unpleasantly. "Oh, you can be sure I will, Professor. Come along my sweet," he said to his cat.

Filch scurried off with lantern in hand, looking very much like a woodsmen on the trail of a hunt. Snape didn't pity any students who had to face Filch.

Snape continued on the hunt of his own and was in the trophy room. It was empty of life, only the cases filled with gold and silver objects. Snape clasped his hands behind him and swept slowly about the room.

The trophy cases housed many things, from shields and statues to cups and plates. There were also a few swords. The moonlight caught the edges of the cases and danced along the glass. Some of the silver was showing signs of growing tarnished.

Snape's gaze followed the pale shaft from an upper window to the case housing some of the Quidditch trophies. The light fell on a wooden shield for the Gryffindor team. Three smaller shields fashioned from gold adorned the center of the wood. These were the names for the Seeker, Chaser and the Captain.

Snape drifted over M. G. McDoggelll and R. J. King and then landed on James Potter, Chaser, 1971.

Snape remembered that year. He remembered when Gryffindor had taken the House Cup. There had been hardly a player to match James Potter. He had been fast, very fast. Completely unstoppable, the best player Gryffindor had in a long time.

A scene flitted into Snape's head, a memory of watching the final game. Seeing Potter streak by on his broom with the Quaffle tucked under his arm, just like how little Harry Potter had flown during the flying lesson Snape had witnessed. Harry had definitely inherited his father's talents. But whether he would ever use them now was to be debated.

Hatred was threatening to bubble up as Snape thought more of the other boy with unruly black hair and wire-rimmed glasses, who had made Snape's life at Hogwarts a living hell. James Potter who had looked just like the small version Snape had to see three times a week in Potions.

Several nasty words surfaced in Snape's mind, but were then succeeded by a face, a face who had shared those green eyes of Harry Potter's.

For a moment, Snape's bitterness was replaced by sadness. Maybe, just maybe he was judging the boy too quickly. Was six hours a week of teaching a class really enough to learn a student's character?

Snape was yanked out of these unsettling questions by a thunderous crash that could only be caused by someone running into a suit of armour. Snape went to the far door of the trophy room.

What sounded like a boy yelling "RUN!" was followed by Filch's voice snarling "You can't hide from me!"

Footsteps pounded on the stone floors and faded as Filch and the others got farther away into the castle.

Snape stood in the doorway and listened.

Wind rattled the window panes.

Mice scuffled somewhere.

Snape vaguely wondered if he should join Filch.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" bellowed a distant, yet unmistakable voice.

Peeves the poltergeist had found them.

Snape stifled a smirk to himself in the dark. His help wasn't needed. Whomever the students were, they would not be out of bed for long.

Snape left the upper levels of the castle, glad to have put an end to the thoughts he found more disturbing than the Potions Master cared to admit.

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