CHAPTER – 14
Harry stood at the Hogsmeade station, pacing slightly as he waited for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. He had persuaded Dumbledore to let him meet his friends here instead of waiting in the Great Hall. When Harry had asked what story he should concoct for his prolonged stay at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had simply shrugged and said, "Take your pick."
Typical.
The shrill whistle of the train reached his ears, and a grin spread across Harry's face as the scarlet engine came into view. The Hogwarts Express slowed to a halt, and the platform erupted into chaos as students spilled out, chattering excitedly and jostling each other in their haste.
"Ouch! Ron! Stop mutilating my foot!" Harry snapped his head as he saw 2 red heads and a bushy haired girl get down from the compartment to his right.
"It's not my fault, Ginny. Will you move? We don't have all day," Ron grumbled.
"Ron! Hermione!" Harry called, weaving through the throng of students toward them.
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, rushing to hug him tightly. "We were so worried about you!"
"Yeah, mate, we were about to storm the castle and yell at Dumbledore ourselves," Ron added, giving Harry a firm pat on the back.
"As if you'd ever have the guts to do that," Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to Harry with a shy smile. "Hey, Harry."
"Hi, Ginny," Harry replied, awkwardly raising a hand in a wave. Hermione's snicker didn't go unnoticed, and Harry tugged her arm, steering her away before she could make any comments.
"Let's get going. As Ron said, we don't have all day," Harry said, glaring lightly at Hermione's amused expression.
Ginny broke off to join her friends, leaving the trio to find an empty carriage. They climbed in quickly, ensuring no one else followed.
"So, spill the beans, mate!" Ron said and gave Harry's shoulder a soft push. "How come you're in the castle?"
Harry sighed and shrugged. "Same old thing. For safety reasons." He spoke. Not exactly a full lie.
"But I thought Dumbledore said you were safer at the Dursleys." Hermione frowned at him. "With all those wards and what not."
Harry thought of how much he could tell them. He knew Hermione would probably chew his ears off he told her that he got high and sent a letter to Snape. Ron would probably get a kick out of it.
"Well, it wasn't kind of ideal, I must admit." Harry said and scratched his head with a sheepish look.
"What did you do, Harry?" Hermione asked him with narrowed eyes. Ron, on the other hand, grinned at him.
"Why do I have a feeling I'm going to love this?" He said, barely containing his amusement as Harry laughed.
"Well, I might have gotten drunk on some cheap spirits the night of my birthday…" He started.
"Harry Potter!" Hermione gasped and slapped his leg.
"It isn't like I am a drunk, Hermione!" Harry said as he rubbed his leg and winked at Ron who was laughing uproariously at this point. "If you're slapping me for this, wait till you hear the next part."
"After I got drunk, I might have written an absurd letter…" Harry bit his lip. "To Snape."
Ron howled in laughter and Hermione's eyes were ready to bulge out of their sockets.
"Good lord, mate!" Ron said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "That is fucking hilarious, Harry. What did you write in it?"
"Well, I just kind of apologised to him for last year." Harry said as the carriage came to a stop in front of the gates of Hogwarts. "And then asked him what he usually did in summer and where he lived. The language might be questionable, but you the gist."
"Are you absolutely mental, Harry?" Hermione asked him and looked like she'd just been hit with a Confundus Charm. Harry just gave her an innocent grin as he helped her get down. "What happened after that? Did he tell Professor Dumbledore? Oh my god, are you expelled?" She asked him seriously in a hushed voice.
"Stop being stupid, Hermione," Ron said and rolled his eyes as they made their way towards the stairs. "Why would Harry be here if he were expelled. And besides, Dumbledore would never expect Harry." He shot Harry a mischievous grin.
"Exactly," he said with a smile at Hermione. "Anyway, the very next day, Dumbledore and Snape showed up at the Dursleys', and Dumbledore made me apologize to Snape. True to form, he was as snarky as ever."
"Well, from what I feel, he deserved that letter but with a few more choice words." Ron chuckled and high-fived Harry.
"Shut up, Ron." Hermione snapped. "What happened then?"
"Nothing, after 2-3 days Snape came back and picked me up from Dursleys and got me here, to Hogwarts, Sorry I couldn't tell you in the letters. Dumbledore said the letters could be intercepted and it might be dangerous."
"That's beside the point, Harry." Hermione said as they reached the Great Hall and took a seat at the Gryffindor table. She got into her lecture mode as Harry seated himself opposite to Ron and her. "Getting drunk? Sending letters to Professors? That is just reckless and irresponsible behavior!" She said sternly. "You could have been expelled!"
"Let me correct you, 'mione." Ron said as he drank a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet. "It wasn't professors, it was Snape!"
"Nobody asked you to play his advocate, Ronald, shut up! And Snape is a professor, however disliked he may be." Hermione said haughtily and looked at Harry for answers. Harry looked at her and gulped his drink before smiling.
"I'm sorry, Herms." He said softly, knowing full well how placate Hermione. "I know you were worried about me, but you know, I was under so much stress, and with Sirius and all…" He said and looked down; his sadness genuine this time. "You'll be happy to know that I apologised to Snape and will also be serving detentions with him for two weeks starting whenever he wants."
Ron rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, trust Snape to dole out detentions before the school even starts."
Harry grinned at him before looking at Hermione who was looking at him with a sad smile.
"I wish we could do more to help you, Harry," she said gently, patting his hand. "But what's done is done," she added. "You've paid the price, and all is forgiven. Just promise me you won't get involved in such drinking escapades again, Harry."
"I promise," Harry said and nodded sincerely.
"Good," she said, clapping her hands together. "I have to admit, it's a bit hilarious that you sent the letter to Snape of all people, but let's not dwell on that. I'm more excited to see the sorting. I wonder how many new students we'll get this year."
Ron snorted and refilled his goblet before throwing a grin and a wink at Harry. "I bet Fred and George can't wait to hear this story."
Harry chuckled, watching as Professor McGonagall led the wide-eyed first years into the Great Hall. Their expressions of awe brought matching grins to Harry and Ron, who couldn't resist exchanging a few colorful remarks. However, a single pointed look from Hermione swiftly silenced their commentary.
As the sorting started, Harry's eyes found Snape. The man was sitting silently beside Dumbledore, his eyes on the new students. He clapped politely when any the students got sorted in different houses. Harry wondered whether he had left Elle alone in the quarters, but then remembered that Elle was used to being with Fizzby. He looked at his watch and noted that as it is it was little girl's bedtime. He sighed inwardly. He really missed Elle.
"Everything alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing at him as she clapped for a small boy sorted into Hufflepuff.
"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied, forcing a smile. Without waiting for further probing, he turned to Dean, Neville, and Seamus, fielding their questions. He explained he had been at Hogwarts for a few weeks due to Voldemort, carefully omitting other details.
"Say, Harry, you've been here a while—any idea about the new sacrificial professor?" Seamus asked casually, loading his plate with an impressive pile of meat as food appeared on the table.
"The what?" Harry asked, helping himself to a modest portion of chicken, mashed potatoes, and some vegetables.
"The new Defence professor," Seamus clarified. "Practically a sacrificial lamb, considering past years. I don't see anyone new at the head table this time, though."
"Oh…" Harry glanced toward the staff table, realizing Seamus was right—there wasn't anyone unfamiliar seated there. "Well, I don't really know. Dumbledore was in and out of the castle half the time. Didn't get a chance to ask him."
"Ah well, whoever it is, it can't be worse than Umbridge," Dean said convincingly.
"Unless it's Snape," Neville said shakily, shuddering at the thought. The others burst out laughing around him.
"I dropped Potions because I didn't want Snape," Ron said, grimacing. "If Snape teaches Defence this year, I'll be absolutely fucked in my—"
"Language, Ronald!" Ginny called from further down the table. "I can hear you from here, and you're spreading bad luck!"
Ron rolled his eyes and returned to his plate. "As I was saying, I just hope it's not Snape."
"It wouldn't be that bad, I guess," Harry said quietly, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.
Three pairs of eyes turned to him, each bearing the same expression of utter disbelief.
"I'm just saying," Harry muttered, shifting under their stares. "He's got good experience in duelling. He might actually help us."
"In what? Becoming Death Eaters?" Dean quipped, snorting into his drink.
Harry sighed, realizing this wasn't the hill he wanted to die on. "Well, it was just a thought."
The others resumed debating what a disaster Snape as Defence professor would be, but Harry stayed quiet. He knew Snape was a skilled duellist with the kind of real-world experience they desperately needed. Sure, he was cruel and difficult, but he wouldn't sugarcoat things, and that could make all the difference.
"Are we still continuing with the DA, Harry?" Hermione asked, leaning closer to him.
Harry shrugged, picking at his food. "Depends. I'm not sure. If we have a good teacher, we might not need it." Like Snape, he thought but didn't say aloud.
"Yeah, but it's a club," Neville chimed in. "We can still meet maybe once or twice a week just to practice. It helps people... like me."
Harry gave Neville a small smile and nodded. "Let's see. Once we settle into a routine, we can think about scheduling a meeting or two."
Neville beamed at the response and turned back to his meal, looking visibly relieved.
After the feast, the clinking of a glass and a resounding clap from Dumbledore drew the hall's attention.
"I hope everyone enjoyed the wonderful feast," the Headmaster began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the Great Hall. "To those who have been speculating, I am pleased to announce that the Defence Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by none other than our very own... Professor Snape."
The hall froze for a fraction of a second, the announcement sinking in like a pebble dropped into a still pond. Then came the explosion of reactions—gasps, murmurs, and even groans.
Harry, Neville, Dean, and Ron simultaneously choked on their drinks, spraying pumpkin juice and water across the table like a fountain gone rogue. Hermione let out an exasperated groan, muttering something about "uncivilized animals," while she delicately wiped a stray drop off her own goblet. The four boys, however, were beyond redemption, staring at each other with wide eyes as they tried—and failed—to contain their hysterical laughter.
"Talk about jinxing it," Ron wheezed, slapping Neville on the back as the latter coughed into his napkin, his face nearly as red as the tablecloth.
"The prophecy has been fulfilled," Dean gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if struck by a fatal blow.
Meanwhile, the Slytherins erupted in a smug cacophony of applause, cheering so enthusiastically it felt as though Snape had just been named their king. The rest of the houses were caught somewhere between polite clapping, awkward silence, and outright dread. One poor Hufflepuff was so shaken he dropped his fork, which clattered loudly enough to echo across the hall.
"Well," Ron muttered, side-eyeing Harry, "I guess we don't need to keep wondering how bad things can get. We've hit rock bottom."
"Oh, we can always go deeper, Weasley," Harry replied.
"For Potions, we have the pleasure of welcoming a new professor starting tomorrow—Professor Eamon Thornbrook," Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling as murmurs rippled through the hall. "I trust you will extend to him the same...enthusiastic hospitalityyou've shown to all new staff." His tone held just a hint of mischief, as though he fully expected chaos to follow.
"Rest up, my dear students, for tomorrow promises new beginnings—and, no doubt, new adventures. Sleep well, and I look forward to seeing you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at breakfast!"
With that, Dumbledore descended from the podium, his robes billowing faintly as he made his way among the tables, offering students gentle smiles that ranged from kindly to conspiratorial. The Hall buzzed faintly with murmurs as students exchanged curious glances.
Harry's eyes darted back to the staff table, seeking Snape. The Potions Master's expression was a study in confusion as he watched Dumbledore's retreating figure, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before his face snapped back to its default setting: a storm cloud of irritation.
Snape rose abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a grating screech that silenced several students in his vicinity. His black eyes found Harry across the room, narrowing into a piercing glare that seemed to say,don't you dare cause trouble.
With a sharp pivot, Snape stalked toward the exit, pausing only to bark clipped instructions at the stunned Prefects. "Ensure no one lingers past curfew. Any stragglers will wish they hadn't." His robes swirled dramatically behind him as he disappeared, leaving the Hall in a hush that felt oddly charged.
"This is all Neville's fault," Ron groaned, slumping onto the table like a man sentenced to his doom.
Neville, meanwhile, looked so green that Dean had to order him some warm tea, which arrived promptly in a steaming mug. Neville clutched it with trembling hands but only managed a weak sip before pushing it away.
"I think I need to go," he muttered, wobbling to his feet with an unsteady gait. Dean and Seamus exchanged worried glances and followed close behind as he shuffled out of the Hall, his tea abandoned like a casualty of war.
"Poor bloke," Harry said, shaking his head. "I feel bad for him."
"Forhim?" Ron shot back, eyes wide with indignation. "I dropped Potions for a reason, Harry!"
Hermione rolled her eyes with the air of someone who had heard this lament far too many times. "First of all, you didn't drop it. You just didn't score high enough for Professor Snape to take you in his class. However, now that professors have changed, I wonder whether this new one will have the same criteria or will admit everyone. And honestly, Ron, it's not that big of a deal," she said, standing up and gathering her things. "We've survived five years of Snape's wrath. Safe to say we are used to it. If anything, we should be more concerned about this new professor—Eamon Thornbrook."
"Please," Ron snorted. "No one could be worse than—"
"Don't!" Harry cut him off, throwing a sharp look his way. "Don't jinx it, mate. It's been a long day already."
The trio exited the Hall together, making their way between the sea of students towards the Grand staircase.
"Hey, Harry?" Ron asked suddenly, his tone curious.
"Yeah?"
"Did you really promise Hermione you wouldn't indulge in any... you know, drinking activities?"
Harry smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Don't worry. I crossed my fingers."
Ron gave a satisfied nod. "Good lad."
The two burst into quiet laughter as they climbed the staircase toward the Gryffindor common room their banter momentarily blotting out the dread of tomorrow.
/
"I cannot believe this," Ron groaned, dramatically dropping his head onto the breakfast table. His exaggerated misery drew snickers from nearby students, though Hermione merely rolled her eyes. "No one wants me to be happy. It's a conspiracy."
"Mr. Weasley," came a sharp voice from behind. Ron immediately straightened up, turning to face Professor McGonagall with a sheepish expression. "I suggest you stop moaning and quickly get to your class."
"Yes, Professor," Ron mumbled, sighing heavily.
McGonagall shook her head, though a faint hint of amusement crossed her face. "He's not going to eat you, you know," she said dryly before moving on, continuing to distribute timetables to the other students.
Ron groaned again as he glanced at his schedule. He had discovered the grim reality: not only would he have to endure Snape for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Potions as a subject as well.
Their last lecture of the day was Potions, and by lunchtime, the trio had already heard plenty about the new professor, Thornbrook. Whispers about his teaching style had spread quickly among the students.
"Well, how is he, then?" Ron asked a third-year Gryffindor, his tone sceptical. The younger boy glanced nervously at Ron before casting a quick look at Hermione and answering.
"He's... not like Snape, if that's what you're asking. He kind of looms over your cauldron like Snape does, but he's not biased. He even took points off Slytherin in our class."
"Strict, but approachable," Hermione summarized a spark of curiosity in her voice.
"And how does he teach?" she pressed, but Harry interrupted before the third year could reply.
"He's not going to know Thornbrook'steaching methodologyafter one lesson, Hermione," Harry said, waving the boy off with a quick thanks.
"Ugh, I don't even have the Potions book," Ron said. "Do you?"
Harry shook his head. "Maybe we can check out that old cupboard near Filch's office. McGonagall always said there are few extra books and stuff kept there."
"Well, you should leave now then, otherwise you'll be late to our next class." Hermione said from her place.
When it was time for their Potions class, the sixth-years shuffled into the dungeon classroom, their chatter fading as they took in the subtle changes Thornbrook had made. Harry noticed the shelves, once filled with ominous jars of preserved ingredients, had been replaced with neat rows of extra parchment, quills, and inkwells for students who needed them. He rubbed his wrist from where Ron had pounced on him to grab the comparatively newer looking copy of Advanced Potion Making, leaving him with the battered old copy of some bloke named The Half – Blood Prince.
"At least he got rid of the creepy stuff," Ron muttered as they made their way to their usual seats at the back.
The class was shared with Slytherins, and for the first time that day, Harry got a good look at Draco Malfoy. The boy looked paler than usual, his complexion nearly ghostly. Yet, his usual arrogance was still intact. Malfoy sneered at Harry as their eyes met, and Harry glared back before turning away.
"Malfoy looks like a right arse this year as well," Ron muttered under his breath.
"Was anyone expecting anything different?" Harry replied with a shrug.
The door creaked open with a deliberate slowness, and Thornbrook strode in with a calm, commanding air. He was tall and lean, his dark brown robes pristine and simple compared to Snape's swirling black. His face was sharp and angular, with piercing grey eyes that swept across the room, noting every student in a single glance. A streak of silver ran through his otherwise jet-black hair, giving him an air of sophistication.
Without a word, Thornbrook reached the front of the classroom, turned sharply on his heel, and gestured with his wand. The chalkboard behind him filled with precise, looping handwriting:
"Draught of Peace – Advanced Practical Application and Analysis."
"Good afternoon," he began in a rich, measured voice, softer than Snape's but no less authoritative. "I am Professor Thornbrook. I expect discipline, diligence, and dedication in my classroom. Potions is not a subject for those seeking to coast on mediocrity. If you've made it to N.E.W.T.-level, you should already know that."
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron who lifted his eyes upwards in exasperation. The new professor's tone was firm but lacked the bite of Snape's condescension.
Thornbrook walked over to the front row and placed his hands on a student's desk, leaning forward slightly. "That said," he continued, "I am not here to humiliate you for mistakes. You are here to learn. And to do that, you will make mistakes—many of them, I'm sure. But if you pay attention, ask the right questions, and follow instructions, you will also grow. That is my promise to you."
The students sat in silence, absorbing his words. Hermione's hand twitched as if tempted to take notes on his opening speech.
"Today, we begin with the Draught of Peace. A deceptively simple potion." He waved his wand, and a list of ingredients appeared on the board. "Some of you may think you know how to brew it already. I suggest you discard any overconfidence at the door."
A faint ripple of laughter passed through the room, but Thornbrook's expression didn't shift.
"You will brew this potion today. I will assess your techniques, your preparation, and your results. At the end of class, we will discuss the common pitfalls and how to avoid them. Begin."
The room exploded into motion as students scrambled for their ingredients.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione worked as a team, their movements practised after years of brewing together. Thornbrook moved among the students, pausing occasionally to observe or correct. He adjusted the flame under Neville's cauldron with a flick of his wand and reminded a distracted Malfoy to dice his valerian root more finely.
"Good consistency, Miss Granger," he commented as he passed Hermione's station. She flushed with pride and doubled her focus.
When he reached Harry and Ron, Thornbrook inspected their progress with a neutral expression.
"Your stirring technique, Mr. Potter, is a bit too vigorous. Gentle movements will suffice. As for you, Mr. Weasley," he said, pointing at Ron's pile of ingredients and rolled his eyes, "I suggest you get new ones and not maul them. Keep a lighter hand. The potion requires precision."
Ron muttered something under his breath but complied, while Harry adjusted his stirring. He had his copy of the book opened beside him and saw a few small instructions written in the margin for the potion.
Powdered valerian root works better.
He frowned at the handwriting. It was kind of familiar but not exactly easy to place. He flipped a few more pages and saw more and more instructions written in the margins for almost all the potions. Harry wondered if the instructions were of any use.
He looked at his pile of valerian roots and bit his lip. The worst that could happen was he would blow up a cauldron on his first day. Was it worth getting into Thornbrook's bad books?
Harry looked at the man who was busy salvaging Goyle's potion before shrugging and grabbing the mortar and pestle.
"Harry," Hermione hissed at him. "What are you doing? We need diced valerian root, not powdered."
"Just trying something out," Harry said casually. Hermione shot him a look before shaking her head and turning back to her potion.
Before Thornbrook could come back at his station, Harry added his powdered root and got himself ready for any explosion that may occur.
But none did.
He blinked in surprise before peering inside the cauldron. The potion was supposed to be a serene blue after perfectly brewing it. Harry tilted his head as he looked at his potion. It was serene blue. He had brewed it perfectly. He grinned at the potion and started bottling it up along with the rest of the class. Hermione gave his smug grin a frown as she looked at his potion.
By the end of class, the students lined up their completed potions for inspection. Thornbrook examined each vial meticulously, occasionally murmuring comments like, "Too cloudy," or "Slightly off in color, but a fair effort."
When he reached Hermione's vial, he held it up to the light and nodded. "Impeccable, Miss Granger. Full marks."
Hermione beamed, while Ron muttered, "Of course she gets full marks."
He then held up Harry's potion and looked at him. "Well, Mr. Potter, you too I believe shall receive full marks. Perfectly brewed."
Ron ogled at Harry who just shrugged in mock modesty.
Thornbrook addressed the class once more. "Overall, a promising start. Some of you have shown remarkable potential. Others... have work to do. I expect better with each passing lesson."
His gaze lingered on Neville, who flushed but nodded determinedly.
"As you leave, take a parchment with feedback notes specific to your work today. Class dismissed."
The students filed out, whispering about the new professor.
"What the hell?" Ron rounded on Harry. "How the fuck did you do that?"
Harry concealed his grin and shook his head. "Do what? I think I do better in Potions when there's no bat of dungeons breathing down my neck."
"Aw that's rubbish and you know it." Ron rolled his eyes. "You got nothing to say, Hermione?"
Hermione looked at Harry with a guarded expression before shaking her head slowly. "I think it was just luck."
She shot Harry a teasing look who just shoved her a little. "I take offence to that." He said as Ron and Hermione laughed.
"Hermione, have you ever heard of Thornbrook before?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room, hoping for some rest before dinner.
"Of course!" Hermione said, glancing at him with mild surprise. "He's mentioned in loads of Potions journals. He was once considered the best Potions Master in England."
"Was? What happened?" Ron interjected, plopping down onto the sofa as soon as they entered the common room. Hermione took the seat to his right, while Harry sank into the armchair beside them.
"He was replaced," Hermione said simply, earning matching frowns from both boys. She sighed as if the answer were obvious. "By Snape. Professor Snape is currently the most sought-after Potions Master in England. He's published more papers and created more potions than anyone else."
Ron pulled a face and stretched, leaning back into the cushions. "Doesn't stop him from being a colossal git, though."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "True. But it does make sense why the Dumbledore and Ministry keep him around."
Ron smirked. "Yeah, so they can bottle his grumpiness and market it as a poison.'Severus Snape's Ultimate Mood Killer—guaranteed to ruin any day!'"
Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes, but Harry laughed along with Ron.
"He may be unpleasant," she conceded, "but his skill is undeniable. Thornbrook had his time, but Snape's surpassed him in every way."
Ron sat up straighter, rubbing his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Maybe Thornbrook's justnormal.You know, like the rest of us. Probably doesn't spend his evenings lurking in the dungeons and sneering at innocent students for fun."
"Innocent?" Hermione echoed, smirking. "You and Harry? Innocent? Let's not get carried away, Ron."
Harry laughed again, shaking his head. "All right, fair enough. But seriously, Thornbrook being this famous… shouldn't he have popped up sooner? Feels odd that we've never heard of him until now."
"Exactly!" Hermione said, her expression brightening with enthusiasm. "Itisstrange. He's kept a low profile for years, even though his early work was groundbreaking. Maybe his appointment is the Ministry's attempt to shake things up at Hogwarts. Bring in someone with a clean slate."
Ron scoffed. "If they're trying to shake things up, why not replace Snape while they're at it?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"Snape is essential to the school, whether you like him or not," Harry added, his voice unwavering. He did grimace at how it must have sounded though and was rewarded when Ron shot him an incredulous look.
"Her, I get. But you too? That's crazy. More than your normal crazy," Ron said, earning a sharp glare from Hermione.
Harry shrugged and leaned back in his chair, their banter fading into the background. His thoughts drifted, restless. Thornbrook's name still echoed in his mind. If he was as talented as Hermione claimed, why hadn't they heard more about him? Why now?
He wished he could talk to Snape about this. Maybe even meet Elle. Having Ron and Hermione around was comforting, but his connection with Elle was different. It was raw, real. And Snape—well, he had always been a bit of an enigma, but in the quiet moments, they'd come to an unspoken understanding. That was gone now. The thought stung sharply, and Harry instinctively rubbed his hands together, a sudden coldness spreading through him.
He stood up, the urge growing stronger.
"Um... I'll see you guys at dinner," he muttered, gathering his bag. Ron and Hermione exchanged a puzzled look.
"Why? Where're you going?" Hermione asked, a furrowed brow betraying her concern.
"Yeah, mate, if you're off to the kitchen for a snack, mind if I join you?" Ron added, starting to rise, but Harry waved him back down.
"No. I'm going to see Dumbledore," Harry said, the words slipping out before he had a chance to reconsider.
"Headmaster?" Hermione asked. "I didn't see you get a note."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You aren't with me 24/7." He pointed out. "What if I got it when I was on the loo?"
"Well, Dumbledore's timing is way off then," Ron said with a snicker.
"Anyways, gotta go."
"What for, though?" Ron's suspicion was evident, his tone almost accusatory.
"I'll tell you later," Harry said quickly. He knew he would have to share the truth about the Horcruxes eventually, but this was the perfect cover, at least for now.
"Alright," Hermione called as Harry turned toward the stairs to his dorm to get his stuff, "but don't miss dinner."
When he reached his room, he found Dean and Seamus laughing about something, their voices carrying through the door. Harry entered and locked it behind him before moving toward them.
"Hey, Harry!" Seamus greeted him with a grin.
"Hey guys… I wanted to ask you something," Harry said carefully, his voice low.
The two boys looked up, curiosity piqued. "What's up, mate?" Dean asked.
"I know you guys… well, smoke," Harry began, the words a bit more difficult than he'd anticipated.
Seamus and Dean exchanged a glance but said nothing.
"Well, I – I wanted to know where," Harry added, hesitating slightly.
The boys' eyes widened, and a small grin spread across their faces. "Blimey, Harry! Never took you for one," Seamus said, laughing as he high-fived Dean.
"Yeah, well, started this summer," Harry admitted
"Well, there aren't any places you can smoke in the castle, what with the wards and alarms and all," Dean explained. "You've gotta sneak out to Hogsmeade if you want a proper place to smoke."
Harry frowned. "But you guys smoke all the time." And Harry himself had smoked in the dorm, behind the one-eyed statue, no alarms went off then.
"Well, we've got our methods," Seamus said with a sly grin. "We sneak out. Through the Whomping Willow and then out to the Shrieking Shack. You have to go at night, though, or at weekends when Professors are not so alert. We might go tonight if you're interested."
Harry shook his head. "Not tonight. Maybe some other time." He paused, then turned back to them. "Guys… I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us. Not even Ron and Hermione."
"Of course, mate," Dean said with a wink. Seamus gave him a wave, and Harry left the room, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt.
He didn't know where he could go. The passageway behind the one-eyed witch had become too risky with too many people knowing about it. What if someone walked in on him?
After a moment of indecision, he made up his mind and headed for the seventh floor. The corridor was empty. He paced back and forth before a door appeared, just as it always did. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Harry opened it and stepped inside, locking it securely behind him.
The room was almost bare—just a few chairs scattered around and an ashtray on a table. But at the far end, a small glass door appeared, leading out onto a balcony. Harry stepped through it, his eyes scanning the overgrown expanse of land below. The landscape stretched for miles, bordered by dense forests and distant mountains. It was a place few ever ventured. Dangerous wildlife, thick grass, and a long-forgotten sense of solitude kept people away.
Setting the ashtray on the balcony ledge, Harry lit a cigarette. A small smile tugged at his lips. This, he thought, felt good. This place, this quiet, the air—it was all perfect for moments like these. He had definitely found his smoking place.
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Severus paced Albus' office as the elder man sat calmly behind his desk, sorting through a pile of papers.
With a growl, Severus slammed his hands on Albus' desk, making the inkpot rattle. The old wizard finally looked up, his piercing blue eyes meeting Severus' with a raised eyebrow.
"Are you quite done with your temper tantrum, Severus?" Albus asked mildly, resuming his paperwork.
His calmness only further inflamed Severus' frustration. With a huff, the younger man threw himself into the armchair opposite, his robes billowing dramatically as he crossed his arms.
"Albus, tell me frankly. Do you want me to leave?"
Albus sighed, setting his papers aside. Removing his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before levelling a gaze at Severus. To anyone else, his patience would have seemed saintly. But to Severus, it was maddening.
"Why would you think that, Severus?"
Severus threw up his hands. "Because of everything! First, you manipulate me into tolerating Potter; then, you practically force me to reveal my daughter to him. Now, Elle won't stop asking about him, and I have no answers! And as if that weren't enough, you've brought Thornbrook into the fold!"
"Severus—"
"-I'm not finished!" Severus snapped, cutting him off. "You come back from one of your secret missions with a cursed hand, leaving me to sort it out, which I haven't been able to do. You know what this means, Albus—it means you arenot infallible! And then, as a cherry on top, you hireEamon Thornbrookas my replacement. Really?Thornbrook?"
"I was under the impression you would approve of him," Albus said, his tone laced with knowing.
Severus huffed. "Oh, I know Thornbrook alright. He's not got one single trustworthy bone in his entire body."
"That is not true, Severus." Albus defended the other man. "He has changed. He is a brilliant Potions Master, although not as brilliant as you, mind. But he will suffice."
"What happened to Slughorn? Weren't you going to ask him to come back Merlin help me, I'd prefer him to Thornbrook!"
"Horace refused. He cannot join back. He is too old, and he has too much trauma, apparently." Albus said sadly. "Give Eamon a chance, Severus. His past is his past. Just like we all have one. We cannot judge him solely based on that. Plus, from what I gather, I know you have asked for his assistance once or twice."
Severus refused to comment and instead decided to cross his legs and arms and stare at the wall behind Albus. The old man chuckled softly.
"Coming to Harry, I have sensed there is some friction between you both," Albus said. "Don't push him away, Severus. He needs you. He needs Elle."
"He can't be trusted," Severus said snidely. "Just like his father."
"Are you letting your demons talk for you again, Severus? I thought we had moved past this." Albus said with a frown. "Don't punish him for something that is not his fault. For the record, he wished for multiple times that I tell you about where we were going that night. But it was me who denied him permission to do so. He is merely acting on my word."
"That doesn't matter," Severus muttered. He was angry with the boy for an entirely different reason. He had, for the first time, started seeing him as an individual person and not the son of James Potter. He had thought they had built a little bit of trust between them, even if it was on their mutual love for Elle. He had expected Albus to keep him in the dark but thought Potter would at least tell him. But the boy was apparently too blinded by the white aura of Albus Dumbledore. He still needed to learn to think for himself rather than letting others think for him.
"It matters deeply," Albus countered. "The boy is broken. I may have forgotten he is just a child; I implore you not to make the same mistake. Don't take this from him, Severus. He has seen a lot of pain at such a young age. Don't keep Elle from him. I have seen how much he cares for her, how much he changes in front of her. He needs this. He needs this connection—it grounds him."
Severus rubbed his temples as he heard Albus talk. Elle was devastated because she had not met Harry for over a week now. She was used to the boy's presence. Severus was grateful that Potter had not badgered him all day and night. The boy had respected his boundaries. But Severus also knew that Albus was right. He couldn't do this to him.
"He needs you. I might not be there for him all the time, Severus. There are still things he doesn't know, things he is too young to know. Some things only you can tell him. Your relationship with Lily, with James. It is not my story to tell." Albus continued. "One day when I am gone, you must be the one to guide him. You mustn't leave him alone then, Severus. Promise me."
Severus looked up with a baffled expression. "What are you on about?"
"The curse," Albus said quietly, holding up his blackened hand. "We both know my time is running out."
Severus closed his eyes, fortifying his Occlumency shields against the wave of emotions threatening to spill over.
"It's getting closer, isn't it?" he asked Albus softly.
"Yes." Albus nodded. "Every second of every day."
Severus nodded and stood up. He spared a look at the old man's hand before shaking his head.
"Good night, then."
"Good night, Severus," Albus said and then added with a smirk. "I do like it when you come barging in here all guns a blazing and get it off your chest. I call it our fiery chats."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Of course you do." He said and disappeared in the floo.
He gracefully stepped out of the grate, thinking about a few glasses of FireWhiskey to drown out his thoughts, when Fizzby apparated in front of him, his hands wringing nervously. Severus shed off his robes as the Elf spoke.
"Master Snape." He said with a little panic. "It's Little Elle. She is having a bad dream, I can't seem to wake her up."
Severus' heart clenched as he gently opened the door to her room, his face hardening as he saw her small frame tossing restlessly in the bed. The smell of urine lingered in the air, sharp and unmistakable.
Crossing the room in a few quick strides, he sat on the edge of her bed and reached out to shake her gently.
"Elle, come on, wake up," he murmured firmly, his voice low and steady. "It's just a dream, child, wake up."
With a gasp, the little girl woke up and frantically searched the dark room before her eyes settled on her father.
With a gasping cry, Elle bolted upright, her eyes wild and unfocused until they settled on him.
"Daddy?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I'm here," he said, pulling her into his arms. He ignored the dampness soaking through her pyjamas and pressed a soothing hand to her back as she began to sob against his chest. He conjured a cool, damp cloth and put it on her neck, holding her small, shaking body to him firmly.
"It-it was a bad dream."
"I know," Severus said and rubbed her back. "Can you tell me what it was?"
Elle sniffed and quietened her sobs for a few seconds before she started talking. "Th-there was a huge s-snake. It was right here, under my b-bed, Daddy. And it came up and opened its mouth, ready to bi-bite me. And it started attacking me; it was so much bl-blood. It was so…real."
Severus stiffened, his mind immediately flashing to Nagini. The possibility chilled him, but he kept his voice calm. "It was only a dream, Elle. Nothing is here now." Elle shook her head but didn't speak, burrowing inside her Dad's chest.
Nonverbally, he cast a detection spell to check the room for intruders or creatures. When it came back clean, he exhaled softly, relief mixing with a pang of guilt that he'd doubted her safety.
"I was so scared," she whimpered, her small hands clutching tightly at his shirt.
"I know," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "It's over now. You're safe."
"I—I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling as pulled away from him a little and gestured to the bed. "I didn't mean to, Dad."
"Shh, Elle," he murmured, gently brushing damp strands of hair from her face. "It's alright, child. You've done nothing wrong."
"But my bed…" she sniffled, her small hands twisting the hem of her pyjama shirt.
"Can be cleaned easily," Severus said firmly as he stood up with her in his arms. "Fizzby, take care of the bed."
The elf nodded and quickly disappeared to get fresh sheets. Severus carried Elle to the adjoining bathroom, setting her on the counter before turning on the tap to prepare a warm bath.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled again, her lip quivering.
"No apologies," he said sternly, crouching to her level as he unbuttoned her damp pyjamas. "This doesn't change a thing, Elle. Now, let's get you cleaned up."
Once the bath was ready, he helped her into the water and quickly washed away the evidence of her accident, keeping his movements gentle and efficient. Wrapped snugly in a towel afterwards, she clung to him as he carried her back to her room, where the bed was now spotless with new crisp sheets and blankets.
"Would you be able to sleep alone or with me?" Severus asked as he helped her into fresh pyjamas.
Elle shook her head frantically, not wanting to be alone for even a second. "With you," she whispered, her arms tightening around his neck as he picked her up with one hand and turned off the lights in her room with the other.
"Very well," he said, his voice softening.
He carried her to his room, where he gently sat her down against the pillows. Her eyes followed his every movement as he undressed and changed into his night clothes.
"I'm going to use the loo. I will be back in a minute." He informed her and she nodded softly. He quickly used the facilities before coming out, not wanting to be out of the terrified girl's sight for too long.
Elle was sitting on the bed as she wiped a fresh batch of tears, looking lost. Severus sat beside her and flicked her tears with his long fingers.
"Is everything alright?" He asked her. Elle usually had nightmares, but they were normal for a child her age. However, they never affected her as much as this one had. "Talk to me."
"It looked so real." She said and looked at him. "Have you ever seen a man with a snake as his face, Daddy?" Severus drew a sharp intake at that.
"Elle, is that what you saw?" He asked her, turning towards her fully.
Elle shrugged. "The snake wasn't alone. The man was behind it, standing in the shadows, Daddy. It was as if…the snake was right beside me. I could feel its breath."
"It wasn't real," Severus said firmly, more to himself than to her. "You know I would never let anything happen to you."
How can Voldemort have reached Elle's nightmares? Where did the girl see him? Does he know her?
Severus willed himself to calm down and focus on the trembling child in front of him who needed him.
Elle nodded. "I know, Daddy."
They sat in silence for a minute before Elle spoke again. "Can I meet Harry tomorrow, please? Is he angry with me? Why doesn't he come to visit?"
Severus rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of her plea. "Yes. Maybe tomorrow I can flag down Mr. Potter and arrange for him to meet you. Will that make you feel better?" He asked her softly. Elle nodded and her small smile broke through the haze of worry, but he noticed the way she shivered. Gently, he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, frowning at the coldness of her skin.
He got up and opened his private shelf in his room where he kept all basic potions and salves for their personal use. He took out a Children's Dreamless Sleep and a small vial of calming draught and went back to her.
"Open up." He ordered her gently. The girl did not protest when he put a few drops of calming draught on her tongue along with four drops of dreamless sleep. He wiped her mouth gently and closed the vials before keeping them on the nightstand.
"This will help you sleep without any more bad dreams," he assured her, tucking her securely under the covers. "It'll be a late morning for you tomorrow."
As her eyelids grew heavy, she murmured, "Thank you, Daddy."
Severus sat beside her for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"You're safe," he whispered, his voice almost breaking.
He settled into bed beside her, pulling her small frame close to his chest. Her breathing evened out, and soon the room was silent save for the soft rustle of sheets.
Severus felt a familiar sense of peace as he drifted to sleep with Elle safely in his arms, her small curled-up figure calming his own racing heart.
A/N - Sorry for the long wait! Leave a review!