He wanted to try out his new broom right now.
Alas . . . Teddy gave him a commiserating look, and said, "We've got Charms, Harry. In ten minutes."
Harry sighed. "Just enough time to run this back to the dungeons, I guess."
"Don't worry. You have practice tonight, right?"
"Yeah!" Harry perked right up. "Flint'll prob'ly wet himself, he'll be so happy!" He glanced at the Head table again, and this time caught the Professor's gaze. "Thanks," he mouthed, and smiled.
The Professor gave a curt nod, then rose from the table, gathered his dark robes around him, and billowed out of the room without looking back.
Harry watched him, bemused, but didn't think any more about the professor's motives then, not even that evening at practice, when he swooped and dove and flew like he was on fire. The broom was smooth, and fast, and perfect, and Harry had never felt better in his life.
TBC . . .
A/N: Thank you, readers and reviewers and those who are both, for your wonderful support on this story! Here on ff dot net, there are over a thousand people getting an alert for each new chapter . . . it's amazing! And wonderful! And supakewl! You guys are the best. Yep, each of you is the best. I think it involves time travel somehow. Or bunnies.
*Chapter 26*: Chapter 26
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 26
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.
Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.
Previously:
As Severus took a book of his own from one of the pockets of his voluminous robes, and settled back in his chair, he mused that there might be hope for him and the son of James Potter getting along after all.
To his utter amazement over the next several weeks, Severus was, indeed, able to "get along" with Harry Potter, the Brat Who Continued to Surprise Him. During their nightly tutoring sessions, the boy was respectful and diligent about his school work, and Severus found himself grudgingly accepting once and for all that his preconceived notions about young Potter had been unjustified, and horrifically skewed. It was a discussion the two of them had almost a week after he gave the Brat the Nimbus that truly solidified things for him, though.
Potter had been hunched over an essay for Herbology for the better part of an hour, not looking up from his books or paper at all, as usual, while Severus corrected Fifth Year exams. The two of them generally spent two hours in Severus' classroom – or occasionally his office – each night, the first in independent work, and the second with Severus quizzing the boy on his readings or answering questions, usually about schoolwork, but sometimes they spoke about his nightmares or the attack of several weeks ago.
Severus found the schedule rather conducive to getting his work done, and to keeping an eye on the boy. Other than those two hours, Potter was generally with some of the other Firsties in their common room, or at Quidditch practice, which had been expanded to thrice a week. Potter was rarely, if ever, alone, and thus less likely to be attacked again.
This particular night, Severus was especially glad of the quiet, since the Fifth Years had been particularly dense on their exams, and he knew he would have his work cut out for him to get them ready for OWLS. But he still looked up inquiringly when Potter said, "Sir?"
Severus raised an eyebrow, and Potter bit his lip then looked down at his desk. Severus waited; he had an infinite amount of experience waiting. Finally, the boy looked back at him. "Sir, you said before that you meet with the, um, the families of all the First Years."
It didn't sound like a question, and so Severus did not answer it except to briefly incline his head. As he had discovered over the last couple weeks, Potter would get to his point soon enough, if he was given enough time, and little pressure to perform. But he thought he saw where this was going, and he wasn't sure what he would do at that time.
Another minute passed, and Potter drew a deep breath, and gazed at his hands. "Did you see the Dursleys yet?"
"I did."
Potter's head shot up. "Did they . . . were they awful, sir?"
Severus considered what to say. The visit had been awful. It would have been even if he had not Legilimized the Muggles and been inundated by memories of their loathsome treatment of the boy in front of him. But he did not want Potter to feel worse for all that. Severus did not want him to be humiliated, as he knew he would have been in Potter's shoes, by his dirty laundry being aired by a professor. And what a revelation that was! Finally, however, all he said was, "It was not pleasant."
A corner of Potter's mouth twitched up. "Yeah, they're not real pleasant people."
"No," Severus agreed. They had not discussed Potter's home life before, except in very oblique terms, but Severus had known it only a matter of time before they did, as all his Snakes from less than perfect homes would, eventually, when given the opportunity to do so. He was, frankly, surprised that the boy was opening up this quickly. He debated with himself for a few more moments on how to open the topic further, and then, "They truly tried to pretend you did not exist, for ten years."
Potter nodded, his gaze back on his hands, where he twirled a thin quill between his fingers. Over the last two weeks, Severus had seen a marked improvement in the boy's penmanship, once he learned the correct way to handle his writing tools. Just as his behavior, once he understood the reasoning behind various rules, had improved, too. "Yes, sir. That way they could pretend magic didn't exist either. I never knew why I wasn't allowed to even say the word 'magic' until after I met Hagrid and he told me I was a wizard. It was weird, really."
"I imagine." And Severus could, in a way. There were many things about Potter that he did not understand. He could not fathom how the boy could have been shunted aside and neglected so continuously in his life, and still been able to make friends among his classmates so easily. And he did not understand why, exactly, Potter was giving him a second – or third? – chance to be the Head of House he was meant to be, when the boy obviously had no reason in the world to trust the word of adults.
But he could well understand the . . . disdain many Muggle relatives had for magic when they were confronted with the fact of their Wizarding children, or (as in Potter's case) their wards. At any rate, he could remember the revulsion his own father had for him. He had seen that same disgust in the eyes of the Dursley couple, and their son, as they "discussed" their nephew. He wondered again how Potter had survived ten years of living with them, with no one to mitigate their utterly unconscionable behavior.
"Do you . . ." The boy swallowed, then seemed to gather his courage from somewhere and looked him in the eye. Severus did not blink, just waited, his expression blank. "Do you think they hated me just for the magic, Professor? Or . . ." Another lip gnaw, and then Potter's voice was much softer when he continued, as if he was actually afraid of what he was saying. Afraid of Severus' reaction. "Or maybe 'cause my father was a bully?"
The breath froze in Severus' chest. For several long, agonizing moments, he was sure he would never breathe again. Severus clenched his hand into a fist and heard the quill he had been using on the exams snap in half. The ends dug into his skin. Potter's eyes had widened, a spark of terror barely concealed in their depths.
"Where did you get that idea?" Severus asked in a low, dangerous voice.
Potter flinched at his tone, but answered his question regardless. "Um, some-someone t-told me he w-was in a gang, sir, like my cousin D-dudley has. And that he used to p-pick on p-people, Slytherins mostly, they said, and, and I thought may-maybe he did it to them, too. Picked on the Dursleys, I mean. And maybe, um, maybe that's why they . . . why they hated me. 'Cause he was mean to them, too?"