Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was different, just like last year and the year before that. Severus heard rumors that the position had long been cursed, but he paid them no mind. This year's professor was a pasty-skinned man with assessing brown eyes, small lips, a square face, and thin eyebrows. He had wavy, medium black hair that was peppered with grey.
"Now, class, I want you to turn to page 456," Professor Cyrus said. "Today, we shall be discussing something that some may find most distressing. Know that if you need to, you may step out of class."
There was a wave of muttering as the students flipped through their large leather-bound textbooks. Reaching page 456, Severus's brows shot up, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
The Unforgivable Curses.
"Quiet," commanded the professor, and the muttering faded into whispers and then into silence. "Most of you are aware that such a subject isn't commonly found in textbooks. However, Madam Pince was so kind as to lend us some from the restricted section, and I expected each one back."
Severus heard Thomas sigh; peering to his left, he watched him deflate, clearly disappointed.
"Now, can anyone tell me one of the Unforgivable Curses?" Professor Cyrus said as his eyes drifted through the class.
Most students avoided the professor's gaze and chose to keep their eyes firmly fixed on the textbooks. Severus was in no doubt that a good majority of his own housemates were well aware of the Unforgivables, but they knew better than to display the extent of their knowledge. Severus also remained quiet.
"How about it, Mr. Black?" The professor's eyes shot towards where Sirius Black was sitting. The boy seemed to shrink a little as eveyone stared at him.
"The... the Cruciatus Curse," the boy answered in a soft tone, and Professor Cyrus nodded.
"Yes, also known as the torture curse," the professor said, nodding at the Gryffindor boy. "Five points to Gryffindor."
"When applied, the curse inflicts intense, excruciating physical pain on the victim," the professor continued. "With the ultimate outcome of prolonged exposure being insanity."
The class remained silent apart from the soft scratching of quills on parchment, which indicated that notes were being taken. Severus didn't bother with taking notes; this was common knowledge.
"Mr. Adams, can you name another?" The professor's eyes drifted towards Marcus.
"The Imperius Curse, sir," Marcus exclaimed, and Professor Cyrus nodded.
"When used, the spell will place the victim completely under the caster's control, making the victim unquestionably obedient to the caster," Professor Cyrus explained.
"Sir?" Thomas's hand shot up and hung there, demanding the professor's attention.
"Yes, Mr. Reed?"
"Forgive me, but I've read that there can be cases where the cure cannot bind someone to the will of the caster," Thomas pointed out. There was a defining silence that followed as all eyes were drawn to the boy sitting to Severus's left.
"Fucking freak," Potter muttered, and Severus glared over at the bespectacled boy.
"Ah, I believe you are referring to the art of mind magic," Professor Cyrus's lip curled upwards. "You are correct that there are cases where one's mind can resist the curse. However, that can only occur if the individual is especially gifted in that art."
Occlumency. Severus had read a book on the subject: a counter to Legilimency, a method of defending against the invasion of one's mind by another. Severus had made a mental note to delve further into the topic.
"And the last is the killing curse," the professor turned his attention back to the class. "The spell speaks for itself, designed to kill anything it comes into contact with. None may withstand it."
A round of note-taking and mutters followed as students peered at the dusty textbooks and turned to discuss the topic with their friends. Professor Cyrus silently watched before raising his hand to silence the class.
"I teach you these spells because it is vital for you to understand the true darkness in magic," the professor said smoothly. "The evil and devastation of magic."
Severus frowned. "But, sir... magic has no morality."
All heads immediately turned towards Severus.
"Care to elaborate, Mr. Prince?" The professor's eyes were fixed on him, and Severus felt unnerved.
"What I mean is that these spells... these Unforgivables did not simply come into existence," Severus muttered. "Magic cannot be light or dark. It's magic, but those that wield it can."
A person does not grow up in one of the most prolific sources of dark magic knowledge and not have a complex relationship with the topic. When children were scared by their parents about the dark arts, Severus had been nose-deep in tomes about the subject. Some would call it an obsession, but Severus liked to think of it as a healthy curiosity in a matter not fully explored.
"Of course you'd say that," Black sneered, and Severus's eyes narrowed.
"What was that, Black?"
"You heard me, you greasy fuc—" Black didn't finish his sentence since Severus took the opportunity to blast a hex at him that caused his tongue to swell up.
"MR. PRINCE! MR. BLACK! ENOUGH!" Professor Cyrus roared. "I will not have foolish wand-waving in my class. Mr. Prince, you will see me after class."
Professor Cyrus's eyes were glued to Severus until he was sure the boy would not continue to disrupt his class. Severus felt his face grow hot as he peered over to see Potter's gang of hooligans having a chuckle. Severus flexed his wand hand, and the urge to fire three more hexes was only tempered by the reminder that Professor Cyrus silently watched him. It had been three days since the incident in the corridors, and he had yet to find a way to pay them back.
The lesson seemed to drag on, but finally, it came to an end. Professor Cyrus commanded that all students place their textbooks on his desk as they made their way out. Severus hadn't bothered to get up from his seat.
"We'll see you out there," Marcus said as he and Thomas marched to the front of the class to hand in their books before leaving.
Soon, there was no one but Severus and the professor. A lengthy silence lasted for what felt like forever, all the while Professor Cyrus counted the dusty old books piled up on his desk. Once confident that he had the right amount, his eyes darted toward Severus. Severus flexed his wand hand, and the urge to fire three more hexes was only tempered by the reminder that Professor Cyrus silently watched him. It had been three days since the incident in the corridors, and he had yet to find a way to pay them back.
The lesson seemed to drag on, but finally, it came to an end. Professor Cyrus commanded that all students place their textbooks on his desk as they made their way out. Severus hadn't bothered to get up from his seat.
"We'll see you out there," Marcus said as he and Thomas marched to the front of the class to hand in their books before leaving.
Soon, there was no one but Severus and the professor. A lengthy silence lasted for what felt like forever, all the while Professor Cyrus counted the dusty old books piled up on his desk. Once confident that he had the right amount, his eyes darted toward Severus.
"Mr. Prince, if only you were as silent as you are now while I was teaching you," Professor Cyrus said, his lip curled into a thin-lipped smile.
"Sir, I apologize for my outburst, but Black—" Professor Cyrus silenced him by raising his hand.
"I am well aware of your long rivalry with Mr. Black and Mr. Potter," the professor pointed out. "However, that doesn't excuse your brash reaction. You are a bright lad, Mr. Prince, but it seems you lack any control over your emotions."
Severus clenched his jaw. He was hard-pressed to deny the professor's statement. He had always been rash, quick to anger, and had gotten himself into fights. He had tried to curb those urges, but it was easier said than done.
"You have the makings of a great wizard, Mr. Prince," Professor Cyrus said. "I have been taken aback by how complex your essays have been since I got here. A fifth-year student working at a near seventh-year student level."
Severus felt a bit shocked. He was sure that when the professor had asked him to stay behind, it would mean that he was to be yelled at. He never considered that he would receive a compliment on his work.
"Thank you, sir," Severus muttered.
"Of course, that begs the question: what's there to teach you?" Professor Cyrus said. "That's why I believe it's best that I give you a special assignment."
"A special assignment?"
Severus frowned as the professor made his way toward his desk, where he would begin digging through his briefcase. Pieces of parchment toppled out as the professor continued to dig further into the bag. Finally, he pulled out a small leather-bound textbook that read "The Light Arts: Collection of Defenses against the Dark."
"Are you familiar with the book?" the professor asked as he made his way over to where Severus was sitting.
"I read some of it back in second year," Severus admitted. The text was fairly simple, and Severus didn't bother finishing the book.
"Well, your assignment is to complete this,"
The professor lightly tapped the book with his wand, and it flipped through the pages before coming to a stop. He presented the page to Severus, who scowled.
"The Patronus Charm?" Severus asked. He peered up at his professor in utter confusion, but the man simply smiled back.
"Yes, Mr. Prince," the professor said as he placed the book down in front of Severus. "You will give me a comprehensive guide to the Patronus Charm, its usage, and..."
"And?"
"By the end of the school year, you will demonstrate a full Patronus," the manner in which the professor had said that made Severus think he had been planning this little special assignment.
"Sir, I don't understand," Severus muttered. "Why the Patronus?"
"It is a famously difficult defensive charm, only a few are able to ever properly produce," the professor's eyes seemed to have a playful glint in them. "I think it shall be a wonderful experience for you, Mr. Prince."
Was he mocking Severus? Did he think Severus could not achieve this task? He who had been developing spells since his third year? Clenching his jaw, Severus grabbed the book and stuffed it into his bag. Professor Cyrus would dismiss him, and Severus would make his way out of the classroom and into the hallways. Meeting up with his friends, Severus mentioned the assignment, which caused Thomas to be intrigued, while Marcus bemoaned the idea of extra work.
Work on top of work. That was Lily Evans's week so far, and she was all but losing her mind. After a rather tiresome day that included Astronomy, Herbology, and listening to Mary's endless chatter about who was dating whom, she was about ready to beat herself upside the head. To make matters worse, she was now sitting in the rain, in the stands watching Marlene's Quidditch practice. Mary had run off earlier to start an essay that was due tomorrow. She initially asked for Lily's help but was turned down. She had promised she'd be there for Marlene.
As she watched her friend save shot after shot, she had to admit it was amazing how skilled she was. Marlene had thrown herself into Quidditch this year, determined to make it a Gryffindor year, as she put it.
"Oi, Evans!"
Lily rolled her eyes as James Potter shot past, a cheesy grin plastered on his face as he soared higher into the sky. She wondered if he really needed to do all that. The boy was always over the top and loud, always looking to be the center of attention. Lily had always been the opposite. The last four years of schooling involved not dragging herself into the spotlight outside of classes. She was more keen on letting her work do the talking.
Lily was snapped out of her thoughts when she noticed the Gryffindor team begin to descend. Thrilled that she could head back inside, she made her way out of the stands and down onto the pitch to meet Marlene.
"Thanks for coming, Lils," Marlene huffed as she wiped sweat from her brow.
"You're welcome," Lily replied, grinning. "You looked bloody fantastic up there."
"You think?"
"Yeah, of course!"
"Good, 'cause we're gonna need to be at our best," Marlene said. "We've already lost to those slimy snakes, and we can kiss our chances of making this a Gryffindor year if we lose to Hufflepuff."
"Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance," Potter laughed. "They've been at the bottom of the table for the past three years. We just need to focus on knocking those damn snakes down."
As if casting a summoning charm, Lily and the rest of the Gryffindor team noticed a group of nine Slytherins marching toward the pitch. The Slytherin team had booked practice right after Gryffindor, a recipe for disaster. Wilkes, the tall seventh-year boy, led the pack. To his right was Crabbe, thick as a bull and as bright as one too. Wilkes's left was occupied by Black. He looked like a smaller version of his elder brother but more sullen.
"Ah, look here, it's the Gryffindors," Wilkes hissed. "How about you stick around and see how a real team flies?"
"Get fucked, Wilkes," Marlene spat.
The older boy seemed to regard Marlene the same way one would regard dog poo on the bottom of their shoe. His lips curled, and his eyes narrowed into deadly slits.
"You allow your women to do all the talking, Potter?" he said, turning to James.
"Watch how you speak about my teammates, Wilks, or I'll—"
"You'll what exactly?" Wilkes cut in. "Cowardly attack me in the halls like you did, Prince? So much for Gryffindor bravery, eh?"
Wilkes stepped toward James and was now looming over the younger boy. Lily could sense violence, and she'd be damned if she let it get to that. She opened her mouth to chastise the older Slytherin but was cut off.
"Enough, Wilkes. Let's get to work." Pace's voice came, and she sounded unimpressed. "We're not here for a wand-measuring competition."
Pace pushed past the Gryffindors and made her way up into the sky. She was soon joined by several other members of her team. Finally, after several tense minutes, Wilke stepped over his broom and shot up into the air. Lily breathed a sigh of relief that could've gone a lot worse.
The walk back to the changing rooms was filled with members of the Gryffindor team claiming they could've taken Wilkes and those sneaky snakes out then and there. The walk back to the Gryffindor common room was more of the same. Unfortunately, Potter had decided to tag along, and it seemed that he and Marlene were in a competition to see who could insult Slytherin the most.
"So, how's that potions essay coming along?" Lily said, taking the opportunity to change the topic.
"Oh shit!" Potter's eyes bulged. "I knew I forgot something."
"Good thing I have a Lily," Marlene mentioned, smiling. "I suggest you get started now, James, while you still can."
"Right, yeah, thanks." Potter then spun on his heels and dashed down the hall. No doubt he'd find Remus and beg the poor boy to help him.
Lily shook her head and continued on.
She was dead tired. Slowly guiding her broom down, she made sure not to stumble as she dismounted. Ravenclaw was up next, and she was sure that today's practice was necessary to push them to win. Whipping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she let out a sigh before slowly walking towards the castle.
"Pace!" Marcus's voice called out, and she turned to see the boy running after her.
"Adams, good job up there," Jane muttered, and Marcus grinned.
"Well, what can I say? I'm just that good," Marcus puffed out his chest, and Jane rolled her eyes.
She wouldn't say it, but Marcus was possibly one of the best players they had. Like her, he was a chaser, and like her, he forced himself into a team that didn't want his kind through sheer talent.
"Mudbloods!" A cry came from above, and the duo watched Wilkes come down. "Who said we're done?"
"It's clear we've all reached our limits, Wilkes," Jane said in a matter-of-fact tone. "We need to recuperate."
"You're not the one who decides that, mudblood," Wilkes hissed, and Jane frowned.
Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. She was more bored of hearing that God-forsaken word than offended at this point. Four years in the house of Slytherin, and she had learned that people like Wilkes resorted to bringing up blood status when they had nothing else to stand on.
"Back off, Wilkes," Marcus hissed, his fist balling up as he stepped closer to the older boy.
"Why should I?" Wilkes sneered. "If you haven't noticed, I am the captain of this team, not either of you Mudbloods."
"For how long? Wilkes," Jane said, smirking. "You'll be gone before you know it, and the position of Quidditch captain will be awarded to the most skilled person remaining on the team."
Wilkes appeared to want nothing more than to hex her; his nose flared, and his eyes flashed with malice. A moment passed during which the three were joined by the rest of the Slytherin team, and the question of where authority lay hung in the air.
"Everyone back to the castle," grunted Wilkes before barging past Jane and Marcus.
The rest of the team seemed to hesitate for a second, some watching Jane with curiosity before following Wilkes. Jane watched them go.
"Well... that went well," Marcus exclaimed as he grinned down at Jane.
"He didn't hex us or anything, so I think that talk went swimmingly," Jane added as they slowly started to make their way back to the castle.
"Expecto Patronum," Severus hissed.
Nothing. Not even the white mist.
He had been at this spell for hours. After his final class, he made his way to an abandoned classroom. Thomas had joined him while Marcus mentioned he had Quidditch practice. The duo had spent time attempting to cast the spell, and while Thomas had achieved some white mist, Severus had nothing.
"What memory did you use?" Thomas asked.
"First year, when we won the House Cup," Severus muttered, and Thomas nodded.
"Good times."
"But not good enough," Severus spat. He was seconds away from tossing his wand across the classroom out of annoyance.
How hard was it to think of a happy memory? He had a good enough childhood, but anytime he pulled from those times, he'd get the same disappointing results.
"Maybe it has to be something personal," Thomas stated. "A memory that is deeply connected to you."
A memory deeply connected to him. Severus frowned as he shifted through old and somewhat fading memories. He never expected the spell to be this hard; Severus wasn't a dour person, and he had plenty of good memories. It just wasn't enough.
Seconds passed into minutes as Severus stewed in thought.
It was a hot summer day, and eight-year-old Severus Prince was cooped up in Mr. Hudson's potion store. His mother was out buying new supplies for the store, and Mr. Hudson was busy auditing the stock. That left young Severus in a situation that he was all too familiar with. It was up to him to entertain himself. There were no other children in Knockturn Alley, and the lanes were never a safe place, though Severus had learned them well enough to avoid trouble. In previous years, he would spend time on Diagon Alley, but the people there had always peered at him with suspicion.
However, today was different. Today, he had set himself the task of completing his first unassisted brew. So Severus was in the cellar where his mother and Mr. Hudson worked on a large cauldron. The task was simple. Severus would brew a Pepperup Potion. He had watched his mother do it a dozen times and was confident in his ability. However, when he peered at the book he was using, it didn't make sense. It told him to slice when his mother had crushed. It instructed him to stir clockwise when his mother had stirred counterclockwise. Frowning, Severus forged on with nothing but the knowledge he had absorbed while watching his mother brew.
His mother was a wonderful witch but prone to becoming sick. She would tell him to think nothing of it, but Severus wanted to help. A half hour went by, and Severus watched in wonder as the color of the potion began to turn red.
"Wow," Severus whispered.
At that moment, the door to the cellar flew open, and in marched Eileen Prince. She did not look happy, not happy at all.
"Severus Augustus Prince!" Eileen shouted as she raced to where Severus stood and pulled away from the cauldron. "What have I told you about playing in there?"
"But ma..."
Eileen was not having it as she began to pull her son out of the room, all the while admonishing him for not following her orders. Mr. Hudson, who had slipped into the room, was now examining the cauldron. His eyes were wide as he pulled out a vial to take a sample. He sniffed the contents.
"Eileen."
"Not now, Robert. I'm disciplining my son."
"Eileen, you ought to see this," Mr. Hudson's voice was firm, and Severus's mother raised her brows.
"What? What could possibly be so important?" Eileen quickly fell silent when she reached the cauldron. Severus watched as Mr. Hudson handed the vial to his mother, and she took a sniff. Her eyes widened, and her brows shot up. She stared at Mr. Hudson, then the cauldron, and finally at her son.
"It's pepper-up," she muttered.
"Not just pepper-up, but your version," Mr. Hudson pointed out, smiling. "Copied to near perfection by a boy of eight."
"God," was all his mother could say as she peered at the vial in her hand.
"I... I made it for you," Severus's voice was soft, and he didn't look at his mother. She was mad at him, and he felt ashamed that he had disobeyed her.
"Severus... Oh, you sweet boy," his mother's voice came, and soon Severus found that she had pulled him into a hug.
Severus was in shock, but he tightened his grip on his mother. He took in her smell, the scent of herbs mixed with her perfume, a soothing and familiar aroma.
"I'm still mad," his mother muttered. "But I'm also proud of you."
"Really?"
"Of course, so very proud,"
Severus opened his eyes.
"Expecto Patronum"
A/N-
Hey. I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who has followed and favored the story. There is more to come, so drop your thoughts, feelings, and criticism in the reviews, and I'll see you soon.
:)