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Sympathy For The Devil
A grin cut across Snape's face as the students took their seats, the moment had come. It was the one bright spot in his life, the one thing that had given him the strength to carry on, the one moment he had waited for since being forced to take the accursed job.
"Potter," Snape barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I . . . I don't know, sir," the boy stammered. It was music to his ears, balm to sooth his battered soul.
"Very well." Snape sneered. "Where . . ." The boy looked up and Snape froze, entranced for a moment by his eyes, by Lily's eyes. "Let's try this again, how would you prepare Troll spleen for a wit sharpening potion?" He felt ill, those eyes had no place on James Potter's son, had no place on the boy that should have been his.
"I don't know that one either, sir," Harry admitted.
"Why don't we try one last time?" Severus smiled as a plan began to form. He would steal James Potter's son. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" He would set things right, he would have his vengeance.
"I don't know," Harry sighed.
"Very well. Ms. Granger, you've had your hand up for quite some time. Why don't you try answering the first question?"
"The draught of living death, sir," Hermione answered with a smile.
"Very good, but do not raise your hand in the future unless you have a question or I am asking the class. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," Hermione agreed.
"Mr. Malfoy, the second question if you please."
"I would dice the first half and mince the second," Draco replied.
"Excellent," Snape agreed. "And finally, why don't we have . . . Mr. Longbottom answer the last question."
"They're both plants in the Aconitum family," Neville said. "Monkshood can refer to several different plants but wolfsbane refers to Aconitum vulparia."
"Bravo." Snape clapped his hands. "I see you inherited your mother's considerable interest in plants.
"Yes, sir," Neville agreed shyly.
"Take ten points for Gryffindor for your unusually through answer." He let his gaze sweep over the class. "All three answers could be found in the first three chapters of the text book and in the future I expect every student here to do the reading before you come to my class. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," the class agreed.
"Good, then I will expect you to have the first six chapters read before you come to your next potions class. In fact, you may as well do them right now, dismissed." Snape watched as the students swept past. "Not you, Mr. Potter. A moment before you go."
"Sir?"
"I thought I would explain to you why I asked you those three questions." Snape sighed. "Your mother was quite possibly the most gifted witch Hogwarts has ever produced. She was also a great friend of mine."
"You knew my mother?"
"Quite well until I ruined our friendship," Snape agreed. "One of my greatest regrets is that I was unable to repair it before her death. Mr. Potter, the reason I asked you those questions is because I had hoped . . . I suppose it doesn't matter."
"Sir?"
"Just promise me one thing, Mr. Potter."
"What is it, sir?"
"Promise me that you will at least make an attempt to live up to the potential that I know you must have. That will be all, Mr. Potter."
Harry's thoughts were racing as he left the classroom.
IIIIIIIIII
Snape ignored the odd looks his colleagues shot him and the proud look on Dumbledore's face following that first potions class, he was much too busy planning for the next.
A smile bloomed on the man's face as Lily's son walked into the class and took his accustomed seat.
"Mr. Potter," Snape called out. "Why must boil remover be stirred clockwise?"
"Because it will explode if it isn't," Harry replied with a grin.
"And why will it do that?"
"I'm not sure, sir," Harry admitted.
"Not surprising, it's a third year question." He looked around. "Ms. Granger, you look like you have something you'd like to share with the class."
"Because we're in the northern hemisphere," Hermione replied.
"Correct, take five points." Snape allowed his gaze to sweep the room. "If on the other hand we add one gram of powdered giant tooth, it will not explode. Does anyone know why?" He looked around. "Ms. Granger?"
"No, sir."
"Pity," Snape laughed. "If you had, you'd be a shoe in for the Wu prize for Potions. It's one of the seven great mysteries of our time, be sure to remember to notify your old teacher if you ever figure it out."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione agreed with a blush.
"Excellent." His cheeks were beginning to hurt from contorting his face into a smile. It's all for the cause, he reminded himself. "I want everyone to prepare their materials for the first stage of the potion." He sighed. "Mince, not dice, Mr. Longbottom."
"Sorry, Professor."
"Don't be sorry, get it right next time."
"I will, Professor."
An unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach caused the Potions Master a bit of confusion till he tentatively labeled it as satisfaction, something he had never before experienced on the job. It wasn't research, could never be as pure or wonderful as theory, but perhaps teaching wasn't the hell he'd thought it was.
"Dismissed," Snape called out after a quick check of the time. "Mr. Potter."
"Sir?"
"A moment if you please."
"Yes, sir."
"You've had a defense class?"
"Yes, sir. Yesterday."
"Did the fool they call a teacher spend any time blathering about how you got your scar?"
"No, sir."
"But others have, have they not?" Snape persisted.
"They have, sir," Harry agreed.
"Then listen and listen well." He frowned, trying to organize his thoughts. "Mr. Potter, you will spend your life surrounded by bootlickers and toadies. It can't be helped, not after what all those idiot writers insisted on printing. The truth of the matter is that your survival had nothing to do with any inherent power and everything to do with your mother. The most brilliant witch of our age set out to find a way to keep her child safe and she succeeded. Keep that in mind and do not allow the idiots to swell your head."
"Why don't the defense books say that, Professor?"
"Because those books were written by purebloods that were unable to admit that a muggle born could do something they could not." Snape's jaw tightened. "The fact that they don't credit her with . . ." He took a deep breath. "I would advise you to speak with Professor Flitwick about the matter."
"I will, sir. Thank you, sir."
"One more thing."
"Sir?"
"How is Ms. Granger getting along in Gryffindor?"
"Okay, I guess," Harry shrugged. "Why do you ask, sir?"
"Because she reminds me a bit of your mother." Snape gave a genuine smile as he thought of the love of his life. "A brilliant muggle born desperate to prove herself. The first few years at Hogwarts weren't easy for Lily, I dare say that I am glad the same isn't true for Ms. Granger." He noted the boy's wince with a deep sense of satisfaction, sure that he'd killed another small piece of what the boy had inherited from James Potter.
IIIIIIIIII
Snape ran through the next lesson in a state of shock. The students were listening to him and nothing had blown up. What's more, while not one of the little dunder heads had produced anything he'd be willing to use himself, every one of them had produced better than what most home brewers ended up with. It was almost enough to make the man find religion.
"Professor?" Harry approached the man after class was finished, it was the first time Snape hadn't told him to stay back.
"What is it, Mr. Potter?"
"You always talk about my mother," Harry began slowly. "Did you know my father too?"
"I did," Snape agreed. "Was there anything else, Mr. Potter?" he asked his voice curt.
"No . . . no sir," Harry replied sadly.
"Mr. Potter," Snape sighed. "Why don't I say that we did not get along and leave it at that?"
"I understand, sir," Harry said his respect for his Mom's friend growing as he realized that Snape did indeed disliked his father, possibly even hated him according to some of the comments he'd heard other teachers make when they thought no one could hear them, but he wasn't going to insult or belittle him to Harry.
IIIIIIIIII
Snape could ignore the puzzled looks the other Professors gave him, but he could not ignore the look of smug satisfaction on the Headmaster's face a moment longer.
"Was there something you wanted to say, Albus?"
"I see that you've managed to put aside your distaste for James Potter," Dumbledore observed cheerfully.
"Not a bit," Snape replied.
"But your treatment of Harry-"
"My treatment of Lily's son?" Snape suggested. "Why wouldn't I be kind to the only thing left of the best friend I ever had?"
"Yes . . . quite . . ." Dumbledore trailed off, at a loss for words.
AN: A lot of people seem to think I hate Snape. Why would I? He's a fictional character. The treatment he gets in a lot of my fics is because it's funny or works for the story. Also, if you leave a review with your email address, this site will strip it out. Does the same to links. Claudio, go ahead.
Don't forget to follow the link in my profile to amazon or smashwords so you can purchase the anthology that holds my short story.
Editing by dogbertcarroll, who as you may have noticed has applied quite a bit of polish to my fics.
Typos by: Jenifer Winterbine, kahless62003, fribergken
Omake: Third Year Defense
"Professor, I . . ." Hermione trailed off with a blush.
"No doubt you were wondering why we're skipping ahead to werewolves," Snape snorted.
"Yes, Professor."
"Professor Lupin has shown you your fears has he not?" Snape demanded.
"Yes, Professor," Hermione agreed.
"My greatest fear is werewolves. I was nearly killed by one when I was a bit older than you are now and it was only the timely intervention of Mr. Potter's father that saved my life." He was amazed to find that he could make the admission with no trace of bitterness in his voice. "It is natural to be afraid of the things that almost take your life. Mr. Potter," Snape barked. "What do you fear?"
"Dementors, sir," Harry replied.
"And what have you done about that fear?"
"I'm learning the patronus charm, sir."
"Wonderful." Snape smiled. "Fear is natural, fear is your body's way of telling you to show caution. So, in that way fear is useful so long as you do not allow it to control you. Mr. Potter is using his fear as motivation to learn a bit of advanced magic, I did the same. Mr. Potter."
"Sir?"
"The patronus charm drives dementors away. Come to me after you've mastered it and we shall find a way to kill them."
"Yes, sir," Harry agreed with a smile.
"Open your books to page two ninety five," Snape continued. "On it you will find a spell to temporarily conjure a shower of silver spikes. Your homework will be mastery of the spell, two feet on other ways to defend yourselves from werewolf attacks, and another foot on spells to combat whatever you fear." He looked around. "Questions?" There were none. "Then close your books and I will tell you exactly why I am so fanatical about this subject. It starts with a man named Fenrir Greyback . . ."
IIIIIIIIII
Severus sneered when he caught Lupin waiting outside his quarters.
"What do you want?" Slytherin's Head growled.
"Thank you, Severus," Remus greeted his old nemesis.
"For what?" Snape demanded.
"For your lesson," Remus said.
"For teaching the students how to kill you?"
"You know damn well that I would rather die at their hands then to risk . . ." Remus took a deep breath. "For implying that Fenrir Greyback was the werewolf that almost killed you."
"He is responsible for your condition, so he is responsible for all that happened as a consequence."
Omake: Third year climax
"Step aside, Mr. Potter," Snape ordered.
"He's innocent, Professor," Harry said stubbornly.
That gave the Potions Master pause. Should he risk alienating the boy or should he finish what Azkaban started and finally have his revenge on the bastard that had tried to feed him to a werewolf.
"It's true," Lupin agreed. "Look down."
"You," Snape growled on seeing Petigrew alive and putting the pieces together, focusing his hate on the man responsible for Lily's death. "Step outside, children."
"What are you going to do, Professor?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Wait for me at the end of the tunnel." Snape ignored her question. He glared at his old nemesis. "I want the first ten minutes."
"Like hell," Sirius growled. "I . . ."
"We need him to prove Sirius' innocence," Harry said desperately. "Don't kill him."
Snape closed his eyes. "Fine, grab the bastard and come with me, Black." He glanced around. "Lupin, I suggest you lock the door after us unless you'd like to see how well the students absorbed my lessons."
"Thank you, Severus," Remus said. The astonished look on Sirius' face didn't fade for days.
AN: Editing by dogbertcarroll.
Omake: Further down the line
"Black," Snape spat. "Hold your tongue for five minutes."
"Why?" Sirius growled.
"Perhaps Lupin would be better," Snape wondered. "No matter, I have a favor to ask and it is something that you will no doubt enjoy."
"What is it?"
"Destroying my already stellar reputation." Snape sighed. "As part of my agreement with Dumbledore, I am to teach at Hogwarts until the day Harry Potter graduates. I am going to tell you something and I want you to promise that you will hold your tongue until that day or the day of my death, whichever comes first."
"Fine," Sirius agreed. "What is it?"
"You are aware that I was a spy, are you not?"
"What of it?"
"I joined Voldemort believing that he would change our world into something better, that he would cast down the corrupt government and replace it with something else. I was wrong, joining that madman was a mistake I came to regret."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"Your brother reached the same conclusions I did."
"What?" Sirius' pupils shrunk to pinpricks. "My brother . . ."
"Betrayed the dark lord and was murdered for it," Snape clarified. "I was a bit less overt and escaped with my life. I began supplying information to prove my loyalty, nothing useful, but enough to keep him interested."
"Go on," Sirius croaked.
"It all came to a head when I overheard a fragment of a prophecy." Snape closed his eyes. "It was vague, incoherent, and useless. In short, it was perfect for my purposes. Passing it along was the greatest mistake I ever made."
"Why?"
"Voldemort took the bloody thing seriously and decided to act on it." Snape shuddered. "I was horrified and immediately went to Dumbledore, knowing it meant my death but desperate to do anything possible to stop the madman from carrying out his plans."
"It's why the bastard went after Lily and James," Sirius exclaimed in horrified wonder.
"It is," Snape confirmed. "God help me, it is."
Omake for Other Chapters
Mini omake for Chapter 114... Two Years More by Just an old grump
Poppy Pomphrey sat down at her desk, her eyes staring off into horrors only she could speak of. Another day, another...
She pondered the headache potion brewing at one corner. The color had turned a perfect shade of pink, indicating it had finished. She looked at it longingly for a moment, then looked at the empty vial in her hands. After a moment, she threw the vial into the fireplace, pulled the potion from the fire, and began chugging the brew.
Her headache banished, she placed the cauldron back on her desk, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and picked up her notes. It had taken a long time before she'd figured out a benefit to her job, one that would guarantee her promotion to full Healer; until then, she would have to make do.
Two years. Two years until she could escape from Hogwarts. Two years until she could get a cushy office at St. Mungo's. Just two more years... she took a deep breath as she looked at her notes.
"Clumsy Wand-Waving and Cauldron-Stirring: The Effect of Magic on Sexual Experimentation in Young Witches and Wizards." She'd already written two hundred feet of parchment on her thesis - indeed, the Weasley family were responsible for thirty feet of it, and Malfoy wasn't far behind. With the
wealth of information the students of Hogwarts provided, she was assured of finishing her thesis on schedule.
She began writing about the latest event with "Patient C" and the golem, and smiled as she dove into the work. Two years. Just two years more...
Mini Omake for Chapter 113 by Ugly Duckling
Vernon lept up from the breakfast table (lept, in the sense of it taking him less than 30seconde to arise), dropped the broken coffee cup handle, wiped down his crisp new no-longer White shirt that was dripping with coffee, picked up the golf ball that had come to rest on the table, it's progress halted by his plethora of chins, waddled over to the broken kitchen window, waved the golf ball in the air, and yelled "Damn you Addams!"