As the morning of 2nd September dawned the news quickly spread: Aster was correct, Longbottom - and Weasley - were not expelled. Instead, they had a harsh reprimand from their Head of House and a dangerous life alert thrown at them from the Head of Slytherin.
The student body was in an uproar. The Gryffindors were outraged that their Saviour wasn't unduly honoured for his stunt, the Hufflepuffs were aghast that the school was so damn loud, the Ravenclaws angry that the school rules could be flouted without recourse, and the Slytherins were seething that once again blatant favouritism was paraded about. If they wore any colour other than a red tie they would have been out on their ear.
There was even dissent in the staff.
Minerva was on a live wire, walking the tightrope of being a Head of House of the offenders and Deputy Headmisstress. Albus was his usual annoyingly chipper self, brushing away everyone's concerns of the audacity of the two boys. Severus himself was on a live wire, imagining every which way he could flay the little shits alive.
The idiot Lockhart was gormlessly exuberant and congratulatory of the so-called Boy Wonder's ability to flout the rules - and laws - of an entire society without remorse.
Pomona and Filius were keeping quiet on the matter, though that in itself was a clear indication of their opinions. The fact Pomona wasn't humming and cheerfully greeting Minerva and Albus showed her disappointment (Severus was sure she didn't know what anger was) and that Filius was stabbing his bacon quite forcefully and showing his Goblin heritage in his scowl really quite set the mood.
It was a shame that Serverus himself was so furious that he couldn't enjoy the novelty of everyone being at odds with the Heads of Hogwarts.
He found it too easy to replace the loud mouth Longbottom with a messy haired girl, being a mini replica of her father with her lack of care of everyone else. Instead she was sat bleary eyed at the Table drinking copious amounts of tea and stirring her porridge about, much to the annoyance of Miss Greengrass. And himself actually; she only had soup at dinner last night, hardly befitting a brat of her age. She was far too skinny still, despite being out of the tender care of her aunt for over a year.
His attention was diverted when Fawley folded himself into the chair next to him, wandlessly bringing the platter of fruit and toast to him.
"Everyone is enjoying the start to the day I see." Caleb mocked, slanting his eyes across the table to look at his colleagues. "And you, Severus? Are you joining in the happy mood?"
Pretentious git. "Utterly overwhelmed with joy." He deadpanned, spearing his grilled tomato with his fork.
Fawley chuckled. "As I see." He looked at the Gryffindors with hooded eyes. "Did you
really expect the Golden Boy to be cast out? For Dumbledore to be impartial?" He sighed dramatically. "Poor boy. Forever cast in the shadow of a Lion."
Severus clenched his jaw, catching on his periphery Dumbledore tapping his thumb against his tea cup in agitation.
Poor boy indeed. To expect a different outcome to what had been played before. Another Pureblood Gryffindor, another time. Growing restless he downed his coffee before getting up and stalking down his House Table, shoving schedules unceremoniously at the students, sniping at them to give someone else's if they were absent.
Not even twenty four hours into the new year and he already longed for the silence of the summer. Not even the holidays, just exam season when the pustules shut up and actually pay attention to the highly flammable subject that they had been poncing about in for the previous eight months.
Oh he knew all the names he was called behind his back, none of them particularly imaginative, and seemed to dwindle in its power each year. Instead it was the faces who would taunt him, knowing that that boy's father was trading secrets with the Dark Lord about his uncle and that girl would be dead if it weren't for his intervention in Circle meetings.
Instead he had to traverse in the mire of teaching imbeciles, hoping for at least one student to not be a total dunderhead in each year. The Second Years was rather
extraordinary, there were maybe seven students who he couldn't write off. Granted most of them were his Slytherins, but still. Though, on deeper reflection, there was also some truly catastrophic people in their year. Longbottom of course being at the top of the pile. Weasley accompanying as usual. Unfortunately there were Slytherins that could be grouped in there, but he'd see how the year would go.
Walking into his classroom, he admired the short lived organisation and cleanliness of it, the scorch marks buffered out, wood regrown to smooth out the knife marks. The cauldrons smooth and durable. It'd last probably seconds.
His first lot was a double lesson, with the Third Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, which was relatively calm, the former lot being too scared to do more than whisper and the latter too morose to do more than study. It was a blissful three hours compared to the anarchy that was going to be his next lot with the Weasley twins in attendance.
Lunch rolled round and he glared his way down the aisle, ignoring the acerbic looks thrown his way by Longbottom and his sidekick, though it was noteworthy that Granger still appeared to be wholeheartedly ignoring them. She was one of his seven who actually had a brain.
He kept an eye on Potter, as was his wont, he still didn't trust that she wouldn't suddenly spout the need to be an obnoxious twat, hexing the less fortunate than her. Instead he had a perpetually surprised looking waif of a girl who startled relatively easily and hid behind others if possible. None of which particularly reflected either of her parents.
Looking at the rest of the group it appeared that Draco was imitating Lucius again, sticking his nose up in the air and allowing Parkinson to suddenly become a limpet to his arm. Narcissa wouldn't be happy. She had never liked the Family for one reason or another.
His Upper Year Slytherins were talking quietly, the girls sticking to each other like glue and whispering as they looked at one boy or another. He couldn't help but sneer, there would be at least three of them to drop out and marry by the end of the school year if he was lucky. His highest number was seven in his third year of teaching. Last year was five.
He looked down at his small plate of food, his stomach rolling at the thought of them selling themselves for the so called betterment of their families. Putting his fork down he instead reached for the coffee.
"Not hungry, my boy?" Slanting his eyes at him he saw Albus twinkling at him over his glasses.
He rolled his eyes and grunted, then sighed as Minerva shoved a couple of biscuits at him.
"I'm not a child, Minerva. I don't need endorsing to eat through sugar."
Arching a brow she sniffed. "Clearly you do. You cannae live on coffee alone, lad."
Curling his lip he sipped his coffee, trying valiantly to ignore the confectionary until she shoved shortbread on there to join the ginger newts.
"I thought it was dogs who hide food away. Not cats." He baited as he bit into the shortbread, ignoring Albus' chuckle and Minerva's superior look which quickly turned into a glare.
As the hour dwindled away and the time for the next round of teaching began, he took a fortifying breath. Though the Weasley twins caused total pandemonium, he had to admit to himself that he was always fascinated on how well they could do at his subject, if they dared to actually try following the syllabus. Instead, they decided the classroom was their own personal laboratory for them to invent and experiment whatever they wished. They clearly knew the subject however as they always did well on their tests, and even their homework ventured into avenues of analysis that would put a Ravenclaw to shame. Not that he told Minerva this; he liked to make her think they were wiling away their years here in abject misery and uselessness.
So as he started their first lesson of the year he kept an eagle eye, determined to ensure that they wouldn't blow something up. As soon as he mentioned some of the potions that would be created however, their ears perked up and identical shit-eating grins appeared. He would need to make sure that there wasn't going to be an illicit supply of Polyjuice Potion bandying about the school body by the end of the month.
The hour and a half lessons finally ebbed away like a snail, letting in the newly minted Slytherin and Gryffindors second years. As he opened the door he wasn't remotely surprised to see Draco and goons fronting off Longbottom and his own cronies. At least Potter wasn't in the middle of it, instead lounging against a wall rolling her eyes so hard it was amazing that they didn't go inside her head.
"Get in." He snarled, making sure to slightly clip Draco in the ear without people seeing. The brat knows not to toss about near him.
He stared impassively as they scrambled to their seats, Longbottom choosing to the
far side, though still somehow in the middle of the Lions. Draco however chose to be at the front, eager to be centre point. Parkinson near dove to be his partner. Oh, joy. Adolescent hormones have started.
Potter slouched at the far back, with Greengrass slipping beside her with a grace that would even have had Narcissa commending. Nott and Zabini planted themselves on the desk in front.
"Congratulations. You've matriculated to your second year, and, as such have somehow earned a spot to increase the difficulty of your subjects. Some of you," he sneered to the direction of the centre of the Lions, "will no doubt flounder without assistance. I will not be someone to approach."
Draco grinned at the outrage of his schoolboy nemesis. Even Granger looked exasperated; clearly he couldn't turn people away outright if they needed help.
Dumbledore had added that into his contract when he tried to do just that.
"We will be reviewing your last year creations with regulatory throughout this term. I didn't spend an entire year drilling stuff into your heads for it to be a waste of time.
"Now, for this lesson, we will do an entirely brief review." He crossed his arms as he looked at them down the length of his nose. "I will be asking questions and...nominating...certain people to answer." He allowed himself a smirk. "Good luck."
Stalking about the room, he allowed the lot of them to squirm, watching in amusement as Longbottom threw what he thought a Class A glare his way.
"What three creatures did we use it's blood for?" Ignoring Granger's expected hand waving in the air, he looked to someone else. "Brown!" He barked, sneering as the girl jumped a mile in the air. "Well? Am I to sift through the empty air in your head to get the answer?" He drawled into the silence.
"Er. Um. Dr- dragon blood. Sloth? And, um. Ah. I - snake? Sir?"
"I suppose one out of three is something. Which one is it?"
He almost smiled when he heard her whimper as her eyes widened, before slanting to Granger. "Dragon? Sir."
"Hm. Correct. Though next time don't ask me. Know it." He went to turn around before throwing, "and don't rely on Miss Granger either. Five points from Gryffindor for cheating." The usual indignant sputtering came from the Reds, and the sniggering of his own House.
"Mr Nott. Perhaps you can enlighten us to what the other creatures were?"
"There was only one, sir. Salamander blood."
"Five points to Slytherin. What osseus matter did we use...Longbottom?"
"I dunno what that is." He snapped.
Rolling his eyes he turned to Granger with an expecting raised brow.
"Oh! Spine of lionfish, bones of a murderer and, technically, Wiggentree bark."
"I suppose that was...adequate. Two points to Gryffindor. Three removed for another person having to answer, Longbottom and Granger, adding a technicality. If I wanted that, I'd have asked."
"Ruddy hell. I'm screwed." He heard Potter mutter as she spun her quill between her fingers. He flicked his eyes to her and she froze.
"What plants did you use? Miss Potter."
Biting her lip she took a moment before answering. "Foxglove, B-bouncing Bulbs, Fanged Ger-geraniums. Um. And...er." Screwing her eyes shut she scrunched her nose. "Oh! And asphodel. Sir." Raising his eyebrow he waited a moment before she quickly added, "and wormwood."
He jerked his head into a single nod. "Correct. Five points to Slytherin."
And so the lesson went, watching as the students got themselves flustered as they struggled to recall their last academic year. Even his snakes were prone to panic, realising that they couldn't always skate by off bias. He may give them longer to collect themselves, but he still expected results.
Inwardly he kept note of which students needed extra teaching, those that needed his Prefects to help with.
Finally the first day drew to a close, with dinner and then the first staff meeting to go before he could retire for the night.
Of course that was only if he didn't get first years knocking at his door crying as they missed their parents. The first night was never that bad, it was an adventure or some shit to them, but by the second night, especially after a full day of lessons the home sickness would start.
There was always at least one student in each year who would struggle, last year it had been Bulstrode and Perkins. He had a feeling it was going to be a fair few of them this year. Which would hopefully mean the prefects would look after them unless they were in hysterics.
So as he settled by his fire, he ensured that there was always enough water in the kettle for a second cup and brought out a book he wouldn't mind having to stop and start.
He had just got to Basil knocking on Dorian's door when he had one on his. Flicking the book shut (he had read it so many times he knew what page number) he opened the door to the first of the night.
The sixth year prefect Corbin Ellington shepherding Felix Thornhill who was trembling so much and his face completely splotchy with his eyes swollen and red. Clearly a Calming Draught will be needed.
"Thank you, Ellington."
The boy nodded, flicking his eyes in concern over the snivelling first year before heading back to the common room.
Sighing through his nose, he guided the boy to the accompanying armchair, passing him a handkerchief without comment as he went about making tea.
He made it to the boy's liking - only just getting him to mumble how that actually was - and then leaned in his own chair, watching the fire.
"I'm sorry, sir." Came a quiet voice beside him. Severus flicked his eyes in his direction. "It's - it's silly. Being like this."
"Trust me, Mr Thornhill, you are neither the first nor the last student who has trouble adjusting. And not all have the circumstances that you've had to come overseas and leave all that you have known." At the boy's expression, Severus inwardly rolled his eyes. "Ireland is a lot different to the mainland, I think. And the Republic of Ireland moreso."
Severus allowed the silence to grow, sipping the calming mix of black tea.
"Me gran came to Hogwarts." Thornhill murmured, tracing a finger around the rim of the cup. "She said it was some one of the best times of her life."
"Did your grandfather not attend?" He did, he knew he did but keeping them talking about what they know always seemed to help.
Thornhill nodded. "Yeah. But I didn't know him. Died before I was born." He shrugged. "Gran said Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster back then. Which is weird."
"How so?" Severus rose an eyebrow.
"Cause he's so old. Me gran's old too."
Severus grinned fleetingly behind his cup, wishing that Albus was here. He always loved it when children were so blunt.
"There was a time that he was a child also." He pointed out to the boy dryly.
"Yeah but over a hundred years ago!" He grinned.
"True." Severus conceded, raising an eyebrow at the gobsmacked expression on the child's face.
The next hour and a half was spent with the boy nattering on, mainly about his grandmother and younger sister and his life in the small backwater village surrounded by marshland.
So as half ten came round Severus escorted Thornhill back to the common room, a hand on his shoulder as he stumbled sleepily through the doorway towards the dorms.
He turned to leave before catching the sight of Potter curled up in the corner, a book precariously balanced as she slept, her feline curled behind her knees and bird nestled in her hair. Pursing his lips he went to the mahogany chest, pulling out a heavy tartan blanket, gently placing it over her, marking her page before putting the book on the small table beside the chair.
He looked at her more closely, taking in her pale skin, wild hair and small frame. There were hints of her parents in her appearance, with her hair and eyes being the most recognisable, though there were other subtle nuances which bled through. Severus couldn't help but imagine that if she had the chance, if she had been brought up by them, they would be more obvious. Instead traces of a harsh upbringing showed; limiting the amount if food on her plate, flinching at any loud sound, hiding behind people. Even the way she slept, curled up defensively was a shade of her life before.
He wanted to hunt Petunia down and wring her overly long neck. The girl was the sole legacy of Lily, the most precious thing to her, and yet she allowed some inflated sense of jealousy and prejudice to harm an innocent.
Turning away, he made his way back to his quarters, allowing himself to relax, and push away any and all regrets. He needed sleep, or at the very least, rest.