What again was that nonsense Minerva was speaking about? Too late? he wondered distractedly, while grading the end-of-year essays with vengeance. One could always be taught a thing or two, given a proper incentive. See here: Jones, definitely improving over her last year; or here: Lake, getting an E in his OWLs, despite being a teacher's nightmare for some years prior. Of course, there were ones who never worked and never tried to, but...

He thought back on Terrence Lake's test and tried to recall once again if he had been cheating. No, probably not. He had done acceptably well at practicals.

Finally, Severus put his quill down, and the thought made its way back into his mind. Given a proper incentive, one could always be taught. The thing is, most people don't have it. Given a proper incentive... Even one exposed to Petunia nee Evans' dubious worldview, he thought suddenly. Even a Potter. Oh, why the hell not? Warmth spread through his chest, the excitement of a nascent plan, the excitement of what could be a perfect, an absolutely perfect revenge. He could feel it on his fingertips, he could almost taste it: teaching the Potter boy not to behave like a Potter at all.

Possibilities ran through his head. He could brainwash McGonagall carefully, he pondered, she had been moving along a right line of reasoning already. He could push the child's celebrity status, however Severus disliked it, to require extra interest in his discipline and the past and present danger to enforce critical attention to his study performance. If orchestrated correctly, the boy wouldn't have any meaningful time for misbehaviour and would gain a lot of exposure to proper ways of wizard thinking. He would be held tightly in the well-wishing hands of the Hogwarts faculty; with a few more properly-phrased ideas, he would feel answerable to the whole Wizarding world, and not as if the world was at his beck and call. Severus wouldn't even have to touch him. Wouldn't ever have to touch him, — that sounded better still. The faculty... Albus.

Albus, undoubtedly, had his own agenda for this particular future student. Severus frowned. With some luck, their purposes would overlap - he wasn't delusional about his standing, should they not. However, the Potions master always suspected he had no luck to speak of, merely a lot of stubbornness. And it would have to do yet again.

~SS~SS~SS~SS~SS~

Not one to dawdle overmuch, the next morning Severus went to check his ideas against the Deputy Headmistress.

He found her sitting at her desk, peering into a thick book and looking bewildered and frustrated at once. He was more than familiar with the emotion, but it didn't prevent him from feeling amused. Letting this amusement go across his features briefly, he uttered a greeting and sat across from the woman, in a chair normally occupied by her students. Ever since graduating, Severus cherished the manner he could up and walk away from that chair whenever he wanted.

Minerva glanced at him over her glasses and frowned.

"It's not amusing, young man! I cannot get a confirmation. All the others have been read already."

"A confirmation?"

"Of course. A confirmation of having been read by the addressee," Minerva waved a piece of parchment at him. "I should get a mark right here, on the list."

At this, Severus divined the source of her irritation.

"Oh, let me take a look," he said, reaching for the parchment.

He skimmed the names quickly, every one having a checkmark in red ink against it. Except... He smirked widely and looked up at the distressed professor, but could barely open his mouth, when she interrupted.

"No, Severus, whatever you are thinking, cease this instant. He will come to Hogwarts! And it's not amusing, for Merlin's sake!"

"I merely tried to suggest that, perhaps, the spell failed to locate him because of the wards?" he replied swiftly. "Have you checked the address yourself?"

"Please, the spell has served me perfectly for years and years, in a fully autonomous way. And Albus has told me he lifted the communication restriction, so it should work."

Severus was reminded yet again, that the proper way of wizard thinking included a lot of "It should just work". Unfortunately. He cringed a bit.

"Have you tried re-casting it?"

Minerva looked at him like she doubted his sanity.

"The charm has been in place since before you were born, Severus," she said, as if explaining it to a first-year. "It takes a list from here, letters from here, envelopes from here, packs and immediately delivers them to the Owlery."

Severus looked at the only sheet of parchment in a tray on the far side of the table. He made out a familiar heading and McGonagall's sharp signature. He was feeling more frustrated with that woman's logic by the moment.

"I haven't done anything differently," the witch reiterated, more to herself this time. "I've tried several times. It should have worked."

"Oh, bloody — Minerva, what is the date? It's the last day of the applications, isn't it?"

Severus stood abruptly and grabbed the signed parchment from the tray and a blank green envelope from the other.

"You will owe me, remember," he said, stuffing one into the other, then turned on the spot and headed for the door.

"Severus, wait! Tell me you aren't going — I assure you, Dumbledore will have your head if you try anything!"

Minerva rose to her feet as well. The man stalled in his tracks and turned, looking highly irritated.

"Who are you taking me for? I am going to ascertain the letter has been read and responded to, is all."

"Honestly, I'm not so sure you are the best candidate for that."

"We are an equal opportunity school, as the headmaster likes to remind us, now aren't we?" he raised his eyebrows at Minerva, feigning honest incomprehension.

"Equal for students, Severus," Minerva couldn't help correcting testily. "But yes, I know what you are getting at."

She huffed and sat down again.

"Go swiftly. If you scramble it up and scare the boy instead — I won't have to skin you alive, other people will see to that, but I might try regardless."

Severus nodded and left.

Detouring to take his robes off at the lab — the closest personal space — he headed towards the Apparation boundary, guided by the first of many lines of reasoning that would go from him to the Potter boy.