Elias sat mournfully by the Quidditch pitch watching the players speed by as they practiced, robes flapping in the wind. Severus had agreed to allow him to go outside so long as Draco was nearby, but he had practice so they couldn’t just relax by the lake and watch the squid.

Draco had asked if he liked Quidditch, to which he immediately responded with an enthusiastic ‘yes.’ He knew the Quidditch season would be starting soon with every team practicing several times a week in an effort to train their new players up to an acceptable standard in hopes of winning the cup. What he hadn’t expected was the pangs of jealousy which he felt as soon as the Slytherin team took to the sky, leaving him feeling as though a hole had just been punched through his chest and his heart aching with jealousy. The smells of the pitch, the fluttering of the robes, even the whistle of the bludgers as they zipped past filled him with sorrow which was unanticipated in its ferocity.

Quidditch had helped him in so many ways when he had first joined the wizarding world. Here was a sport he was good at, one which Dudley couldn’t prevent him from playing, and one which was impossible for the Dursleys to exclude him from. He was the youngest seeker in a century. He had caught the snitch in nearly every game he had played. It was something he and his father shared in common. It allowed him to feel a part of something.

And now he was grounded.

He knew it wasn’t safe for him to fly, but that didn’t stop him from missing it. His balance was atrocious on a good day, turning too quickly would make him dizzy, and he knew his legs wouldn’t provide him with a secure seat on the broom and would likely cause him to turn sporadically. Just watching the players fly proved it wasn’t a good idea for him to even ask to try as his muscles tried instinctively to follow the flight movements of one of the players only to immediately cramp and spasm. And there was still the fear of having a seizure while flying.

No, his Quidditch days were over.

Turning his eyes from the team who had finished their flying drills and were now practicing passes to one another, he relaxed back in the stands and watched the sky above the players. White fluffy clouds drifted overhead, occasionally blocking the sun but giving the sky a cerene appearance. What he wouldn’t give to be up there once more, flying between them and enjoying the cool spray of their moisture on his face.

A glint of gold in the corner of his eye caught his attention as the released snitch flitted above the stands on the opposite side of the field. A quick glance at Draco and he realized the other boy hadn’t found the ball yet, however he was scanning the field intently in hopes of catching it soon. Turning his attention back to the tiny, fluttering ball, Elias folded his arms defiantly across his chest. He may not be able to play, but he could at least keep the ball in his sights for as long as possible and see how many times he could have caught it.

The snitch flew rather lazily around the stands for a few moments before suddenly zipping away as Draco grew too close to where it was. Not a moment later, Elias saw the glint of gold appear once more behind the opposing team’s goal posts despite that side of the field not being in use. It stayed frustratingly still for an absurd amount of time, weaving around the goal posts mockingly before zipping across the field once more without Draco having ever seen it.

Suddenly he saw Draco dive towards the ground having finally caught a glimpse of the elusive snitch. Elias felt his heart speed up as he watched the chase, eyes wide with anticipation as Draco closed in on the snitch and finally caught it only seconds before running headlong into the stands. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he applauded his friend, ignoring for the moment how much the feeling irritated his hands though he did manage to ignore the urge to jump up and run out on the pitch himself.

This was only practice after all.

Practice ran for another half hour, during which Elias busied himself with both tracking the snitch and trying to stretch and work muscles he hadn’t thought to move during his long convalescence. While he hadn’t previously been the most flexible of people, he quickly discovered that whatever flexibility he had was essentially gone. The muscles of his inner legs particularly protested his attempts to stretch them beyond the positions required for simple movements such as walking and sitting. His low back and sides also were not fond of his ministrations, though they put up a far more violent protest.

“What’re you doing, Elias?” Draco said with a laugh as he finally came down to land and put away the snitch.

“I h-haven’t t-t-tried st-treching in aw-while,” Elias said with a grimace as he stared skyward from his position in the pitch’s grass.

“Are you ok?” Draco asked, noticing the look of pain on his friend’s face.

Elias nodded curtly, gingerly rubbing his stomach as though debating if he needed to roll over and vomit. “I’ll b-be f-f-fine in a m-minute. Sp-p-pasms hurt.”

“Ah,” Draco said, leaning on his broom as he waited for the spasm to abate. “What doesn’t cause you to spasm?”

“Hon-nestly? N-no...thing,” Elias grumbled, breath catching in his throat as another spasm raced along his spine. He shouldn’t have done this without having taken something first; this was miserable. “I g-get too hot and sp-pasm. I get-t too c-c-cold and sp-p-pasm. I w-walk ... up-p-p stairs and-d sp-pasm. I b-breathe and sp-p-pasm.”

“Even when you sleep?” Draco asked curiously. He had been curious about his friend’s life since the summer, but had never had the courage to ask while around the professor.

Elias let out a barking laugh before slowly turning over onto his side facing Draco. “Esp-p-pecially when I s-sleep-p. You’ve s-seen how m-m-many p-p-p-potions I t-take at n-night, m-most of those are t-t-to stop-p them so I c-can sleep-p. Or t-try to. D-don’t t-t-tell D-da, b-b-but I w-wake up a c-couple times a n-night.”

“I heard you get up over the summer,” Draco nodded. “I just thought you had to go to use the loo.”

“S-sometimes I d-did,” Elias muttered, blushing. He did not want to talk about going to the toilet with Draco in the middle of the pitch.

“Are you ready to get up?” Draco asked after a minute, making sure Elias was less tense and didn’t seem in pain.

Elias nodded before rolling back onto his back. “C-can you help me up-p?”

“I guess,” Draco snorted before putting his broom down and grabbing Elias’s hands to help him stand. It took him a few tries, but finally Elias was upright though he had wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulders and clung to him for dear life as though he would fall over.

“I have a question for you,” Draco said, once the stars had stopped dancing in front of Elias’s eyes and he wasn’t quite on the verge of falling over once more. “Have you ever flown on a broom?”

Elias, who had been focused on putting his discarded outer robe back on, looked over at Draco in surprise before pausing and thinking for a moment. He and Severus had never discussed the things he “had” or “hadn’t” done in the past, only the things he could and couldn’t do in the present with his current condition. He knew he wasn’t supposed to fly right now, but would he have ever been allowed to in the past? Would he have ever been able to fly alone?

“A f-few t-t-times,” Elias said cautiously, trying to control his stutter enough that Draco wouldn’t immediately pick up on the fact he was trying to make up information quickly. “A l-l-long t-t-time ago. A-and n-not on m-m-my own.”

“Do you want to try again?” Draco asked with a smirk, holding out his broom. He immediately saw the look of desire fill Elias’s eyes before his shoulders sank in resignation.

“I’m n-not supposed to f-f-fly for s-six m-months,” Elias said solemnly. “It isn’t s-s-safe.”

“Come on, Elias!” Draco said, holding out the broom. “I’ll sit behind you. I saw how you kept watching us fly, I know you want to try it out. It’ll be fine. Your father isn’t here so you can’t get in trouble.”

Elias bit his lip for a moment as he looked at the castle. He would be in so much trouble if he got caught. And what if he had a seizure in the air? Would Draco be strong enough to get him down on his own? Would they crash into the stands? Would they crash into the ground? Would he accidentally cause the broom to turn if his legs spasmed during flight? Would Draco be able to compensate for his involuntary movements?

“We c-c-c-can’t go high. Or f-f-fast,” Elias said, looking longingly at the broom. His desire to feel normal again was overwhelming but he knew he had to at least try to be safe.

“Alright!” Draco said excitedly. “You mount first and I’ll get on behind you.”

Elias nodded and shakily took the broom handle from Draco. It was just a broom, why was he so nervous all of a sudden? He felt almost as intimidated as he had for his first ever flying lesson. The idea of being in the sky again was a welcome one, but he was also terrified of losing control and plowing into the building much like Neville had on their first lesson.

“Alright,” Draco said, mounting the broom behind his friend and wrapping his arms around the taller boy’s waist to grab the broom handle as well while trying to ignore how awkward the situation felt. “On the count of three, we both kick off. Ready?”

Elias nodded, tightening his grip around the broom handle. Was he ready? Did he really want to do this?

“One.”

Was this really a good idea? This was a Quidditch broom after all, and not designed to hold two people at once. There wasn’t even enough places for all of their feet to go. He knew he’d seen tandem brooms before in Diagon Alley.

“Two.”

“D-draco? Wh-where d-d-d-do I p-put…”

“Three.”

Draco pushed off the ground sending alone, rocketing the two of them off the ground a few meters before he was able to regain control of the broom and brought it to a standstill, hovering in midair. He could feel Elias quivering between him, though he wasn’t able to see his face so he couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or simply his normal movements.

“You alright there?” he asked as they hovered over the pitch. “You aren’t scared of heights are you?”

“F-f-feet?!” squeaked Elias as he clung to the broom handle, feeling very unseated as his legs swung freely under them. Had he been on his own broom, he would have immediately swung his feet back and placed them back on the metal stirrups but those were currently occupied.

“Just relax, Elias,” Draco said, tightening his grip around the broom. “It’s ok.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Pansy Parkinson’s voice sounded from the stands. She and several other Slytherins had come to watch the practices, less for the fun of watching the Slytherin practice and more for watching the Gryffindors try to train two more Weasley’s to be on their team. Apparently Ron had made it onto the team as Keeper and Ginny was slated to play as Seeker: a fact that made Elias’s heart ache with more emotions than he wanted to admit to.

Elias took a few deep breaths before smiling as he looked around. He was back on a broom! He was flying again! True, he had to have someone behind him, but he was flying again! He honestly hadn’t thought about how much he missed it until now! It was as though his soul were complete!

“Are you ready to fly?” Draco asked as he noted Elias seemed to relax in his arms. “We’ll go slow.”

Elias nodded and leaned forward slightly, stomach jolting slightly as the broom began to move with his weight shift before Draco had even leaned forward. As soon as they were moving, however, that fear started to abate and soon he found himself relaxing and leaning forward more, urging the broom to move faster and higher.

“Elias, don’t lean forward so much,” Draco said, trying to hide his concern at how difficult the broom was to control with two people on it. If something were to happen to Elias, Professor Snape would have his hide. And, while his father wouldn’t ask why he was needing a new broom again, he knew his mother would be livid if broke it.

“C-c-come on, D-draco!” Elias said with a laugh. “Faster!”

“No,” Draco said, trying to pull the broom back and prevent the taller boy from egging the broom on. “Elias, listen to me!

“P-p-p-please!” Elias begged, ignoring how fatigued his legs were becoming from trying to hold his body on the broom. “Just one l-l-lap?”

Draco shook his head despite knowing Elias couldn’t see him. “No, we should land, your legs are starting to shake too much.”

“C-come on!” Elias whined, urging the broom forward. Even with Draco sitting behind him, the broom reminded him a lot of the way his old Nimbus 2000 handled. It was nice to fly the same class of broom again, no matter how much he loved his Firebolt.

“Elias, no!” Draco snapped, trying to lower the broom towards the ground. The broom had begun bucking slightly as it tried to respond to the variety of signals it was getting. “We need to land now!”

“You are exactly right,” a scarily silky voice said suddenly, right by his ear. “Elias, you and Draco will land immediately.”

Both Draco and Elias froze as they looked to their right. There standing in the stands, not three meters from where they had been flying, was Professor Snape. Neither boy could think of him as anything else as the look on his face they had only ever seen in potions class when Neville blew up yet another cauldron out of sheer incompetence. Livid didn’t even begin to describe the look on the man’s face. His face, which was normally pale, was completely lacking in color, his nostrils were flared, and the muscles on his jaw stood out starkly as he clenched his teeth.

“D-da…” Elias said, attempting to begin to explain.

“NOW!” Severus roared, pointing at the field with his wand.

“Yes sir,” Draco said, taking control of the broom and bringing it back down to the pitch as quickly as he could while trying to compensate for the jolts Elias’s twitches were causing the broom to do.

They had no sooner touched down on the pitch when Severus came out of the stairway to the stands and immediately grabbed both his son by the arm and the broom before striding quickly back into the school, practically dragging Elias along as he struggled to keep his feet under him. Draco trotted behind them, face pale but impassive barely noticing when the Gryffindor Quidditch Team entered the stadium for their scheduled practice. He knew he was going to be getting in trouble but there was no reason to make any more of a scene than what Professor Snape and Elias were already making.

They quickly made their way down to the dungeons, students stepping to the side as they passed, concern and pity on their faces for the potions master’s son. They had nearly all been on the receiving end of Professor Snape’s wrath before, but he looked positively murderous. And the fact Draco was running behind them only boosted their curiosity, urging some of the more brave students to sneak behind them until they entered Snape’s office and the door was slammed behind them.

The students were still standing outside of the door, wide-eyed, when Draco strode out of the office, head hanging and muttering to himself something about ‘Quidditch practice,’ and ‘may as well hand Gryffindors the cup now.’ Shortly after, students in the Great Hall noticed the number of points for Slytherin house had suddenly dropped by seventy-five, putting them in third place, just above Gryffindor.

The students in the Great Hall couldn’t help but gape at the point hourglasses in shock. Never before had Slytherin managed to lose that many points in one sitting and there was only one professor who would take that many points off in one sitting. Someone in Slytherin had royally angered Professor Snape.

---

“In,” Severus growled as he pushed Elias into a chair, threw the broom into the corner, slammed the office door behind Draco, and quickly set a silencing charm on the room to prevent eavesdroppers.

“It’s not his fault!” Draco said, sitting quickly in the other chair next to Elias. “I asked him if he wanted to fly. It was my idea.”

Severus grit his teeth and took a deep breath before sitting himself behind his desk so he could look at the two boys sitting in front of him. Neither seemed worse for wear but that was inconsequential: Elias knew he wasn’t supposed to fly. Had it not been for the safety monitoring charms Severus had placed on him, he never would have known Elias was in danger and hovering nearly forty feet above the ground.

That alone was dangerous, but the fact that the broom they chose to use was one which was designed for Quidditch made the entire situation that much more dangerous. Had they decided to use one of the school brooms, while it wouldn’t have been much better, it would have been at least a bit safer. The Nimbus line of brooms were designed to be highly responsive to their one, singular rider’s commands. Add to that the fact Quidditch was played mostly with the hands meant that the brooms designed for the sport, as opposed for general transport, were highly sensitive to weight shifts and leg position while being ridden.

Even with Draco having his feet on the stirrups, Elias was still the larger rider and notably lacked the ability to control his own balance and leg position while riding. Even if Severus had signed off on him flying, there was no way he ever would have given the ok for him to use any form of racing or Quidditch broom until he was better able to balance on solid ground. Elias had refused to talk about it, but Severus knew from the monitoring spells on their quarters that he was falling at least once every few days. He had never received any injuries from these falls outside of a few bruises, but the fact remained that these were still a consistent part of his life.

Flying was simply not a safe option.

“You are aware of the accident which befell Harcroft Mattsfield, are you not?” Severus said in a dangerously calm voice.

“Sir?” Draco said, looking up confused.

“Yes or no,” Severus said once more, his voice darkening. “Are you aware of this incident?”

“Yes sir,” Draco said, hanging his head. Mattsfield had been the seeker for the Holyhead Harpies for only two years when he and his ten year old son had been involved in an accident on his custom built, team issued seeker’s broom which killed both of them nearly fifteen years ago. Despite having only been a few months old at the time, Draco as well as every other child with Quidditch dreams had heard the story.

“Then why would you think that it is safe to ride a Quidditch broom with someone who CAN’T EVEN WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE?!” Severus said, voice rising to a roar. “You both could have been KILLED! And for what?! A bit of fun riding a broom?!”

Draco’s face immediately flushed as his temper flared. He had just wanted to do something fun to do with Elias. He had seen the look of excitement on the other boy’s face as he caught the snitch during practice. He knew Elias enjoyed Quidditch; it seemed almost criminally unfair that he wasn’t allowed to fly. Yes, he had realized quite quickly how dangerous it was when his normally well-behaved broom began trying to shoot out in random directions whenever Elias twitched, but he had had it under control.

“I had it under control, sir,” Draco said, trying not to cower at the sight of his professor’s fuming countenance.

“Did you now?” Severus said sarcastically. “Because from what I saw, the two of you were arguing over what to do and the broom was operating completely under its own accord as it tried to sort between what each of you were doing.”

Draco hung his head slightly. Professor Snape was right, but that didn’t make admitting it any easier.

“Seventy-five points from Slytherin for refusal to follow basic safety regulations,” Severus growled. “You may continue to practice with the team, however you must use a school broom to do so. You will also write an essay on the dangers of multiple people riding a racing broom as well as serve detention with me once a week for the next month. Your broom will remain locked here in my office and you will only receive it back for matches.”

Draco’s temper flared once more as he looked at the professor sitting in front of him. How dare he take his broom! That was a gift from his father to the Quidditch team! Professor Snape wouldn’t dare go against his wishes, would he? Lucius Malfoy may not be on the Board any longer, but he certainly was still one of the largest benefactors of the school. He paid Professor Snape’s salary!

Before Draco could protest, however, he heard a small sniff next to him which pulled him out of his rage slightly. He could have hurt Elias because he was acting like a fool-hearty Gryffindor. He could have injured them both simply because he wasn’t as in control of the broom as he wanted to believe that he was.

“Yes, sir,” he finally murmured, anger evident in his voice though even he was unsure if he was more angry at himself or the situation.

“Get out of my sight,” Severus snapped, undoing the wards on the door momentarily so Draco could leave. “I will contact you with the time for the detention.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said once more before fleeing, the thought of accidentally killing Elias weighing on his mind. Was this what it felt like to have a little brother? He could only imagine it was.

As soon as the door shut behind Draco, Severus immediately returned the wards to normal before rounding on his own son who seemed to be holding in tears but also seemed to be on the verge of exploding in anger. “Why would you do this Elias? Why must you continue to put yourself in dangerous situations every. single. year?! I thought perhaps that tendency of yours had gone when your mother’s potion failed, but apparently that trait was not as genetic as I assumed.”

Elias muttered something under his breath but was too quiet for Severus to hear. He didn’t want to look at the man in the eye; he had been so kind to him up to this point and here he was messing it all up. He hadn’t thought about it, he just did it. He had been a bit concerned but Draco had sworn it was safe and he couldn’t think of any reason not to have a bit of fun during an afternoon off.

That was what he really wanted: an afternoon off. An afternoon of being back to normal. Of not shaking constantly. Of not worrying about having another seizure. Of being able to walk and talk like a normal person. Of being able to be around friends and not having to worry about if he would forget something, or get a migraine, or have to stop and take a nap in the middle of the afternoon.

He thought being back at Hogwarts would be good, that he could hide and not have to worry about the questions or accusations related to last year, but what he was finding was it was exhausting being around other people his same age. He wanted to be able to walk the one hundred and forty two staircases, sleep through Binns’s class, and complain with his friends about how awful the new DADA professor was. He wanted to be able to sit by the lake and watch the squid or go to the owlery and spend time with Hedwig alone. He wanted to be able to go to Gryffindor tower, try the twins’ latest invention, and stay up late working on homework.

He wanted to play Quidditch again.

“What was that?” Severus asked, still fuming about his son’s lack of care for his own safety.

“I-i thought-t i-i-i-it w-w-would b-b-be okay,” Elias stuttered, frowning in frustration at the difficulty he had forming the words. “I w-w-would b-b-be fin-n-n-ne. L-like f-first y-y-y-year.”

“Your first year you never should have been allowed on the Quidditch team,” Severus said gruffly. “You broke the rules at that time and were not punished. This time, you were on a broom not designed or warded for safety. ”

“I-i-i’m a g-good flier!”

“Were! You were a good flier!” Severus yelled in frustration, resisting the urge to pull his hair. “Now it is not safe for you to do so! You can’t even sit still in a chair, let alone on a broomstick designed to respond to your seat! You could have been killed, do you not understand that?”

“N-n-no d-d-d-differe-e-ent than ev-v-very other y-y-year then!” Elias snapped. “A-at l-l-least th-this y-year I ch-ch-chose to d-d-do it!”

“Why the hell would you choose to put your life in danger for a bit of adrenaline on a broomstick?!” Severus snapped, motioning towards the broom in the corner of his room. “Do you honestly have a death wish?”

“N-no!” Elias yelled back, pushing himself so he was standing eye-to-eye with his father. “I w-w-want to l-l-live! I’m s-s-s-sick a-and t-t-tired of b-b-being s-sick and t-t-t-tired! I w-want to b-be n-n-normal! This i-i-isn’t n-n-normal!”

“Yes,” Severus snapped back leaning in closer to his son. “Yes, it is. This is your new normal. When the Falsum Paternis failed, this became your normal. As much as we have planned as though this is all a big ruse to protect you from that meddling coot, it was also to build a life for you to be able to live. There is. no. cure. And you acting like a fool could end up with you killed.”

Elias’s shoulder’s sunk at the proclamation as he stumbled backwards and sat back down in the chair. He felt as though he had been slapped. He wanted to be able to run out of the room and find somewhere to hide to think about his sorrows, but knew he wouldn’t get far before he fell yet again. Eyes filling with tears, he sniffed and brought a shaking hand to his face to wipe away the tears, only to find more tears taking their place.

The Dursley’s were right; he was a freak. And no one wants a freak.

“Elias… Harry… Look at me,” Severus said, spinning the other chair around so they were now sitting eye to eye. “If your mother knew that this is what would happen to you in giving you that bloody potion, she would never, ever have given it to you. Her dream was for her child to grow up loved and cared for, not locked in a cupboard and lied to. If I had known you were my child, I would have removed you from that house and given you the antidote immediately. Even still, I vowed to protect you when you first came to Hogwarts, did you know that? I vowed to protect you in memory of your mother. To keep you safe and out of harm’s way and away from the path of the prophecy. Despite my efforts, I have failed you year after year. I will not fail you again.”

Elias looked up in confusion at his father’s declaration. There was a prophecy about him? What prophecy? How was he involved in a prophecy? “W-what p-p-prophecy?”

Severus was taken aback. Of all of the things he said, Elias had hung onto that? He didn’t know of the prophecy? How could that be? Had Dumbledore truly kept him in the dark about what was considered to be his destiny? About the reason his parents had been murdered? About his scar?

“What p-p-p-p-prophecy?!” Elias demanded louder.

“You don’t know about the prophecy?” Severus finally said, disbelief emanating from every fiber of his being. “He never told you about the prophecy?”

“W-who?” Elias asked, wiping the remaining tears from his face as his father got up and began pacing the room anxiously before adding several more wards to the office door and ensuring there were no living beings other than the two of them present in the room. “Who d-d-didn’t t-t-tell m-me?”

Severus continued pacing, brows furrowed in thought for another few minutes, muttering occasionally under his breath as he gathered his thoughts and prepared to put them to words. How could Dumbledore have not told him anything? Had it not been for the major coverup operations following the Potter murder, that damned prophecy would be common knowledge by now. Especially since those within the order were all under investigation as to who could be the family of the prophesied child.

“Only a few months before your birth, a prophecy was made about you and the Dark Lord and your future interactions,” Severus started, choosing his words carefully. “There were actually two potential children who ended up fitting the criteria for the prophecy, however the Dark Lord decided that you fit these criteria better than the other child. This prophecy was the reason your parents were attacked. It was the reason you ended up with your scar. It is the reason the Dark Lord is still so driven to find you now.”

Elias sat in shock as he watched his father continue to pace the room. He didn’t know what to think. He had known that his parents were involved in the war, but that was really it. Other than the few stories he had gotten from Sirius and Remus, the most stories that he had of his parents consisted of how much he reminded people of his ‘father’ and how he had his mother’s eyes. He didn’t really know much about them or their involvement in the war and had honestly assumed they had been killed as random casualties in the war.

“The prophecy was heard by the headmaster during an interview with a potential professor. I only assumed that you knew about it and that was the reason you were constantly getting yourself into dangerous situations.”

“W-what d-d-does it s-s-say?” Elias whispered, feeling his heart sink into his stomach.

Severus quit pacing and looked sadly at his son’s shocked face. “I only know a part of it,” he admitted before finally returning to his seat. “I can only assume the rest of it is as foreboding as the first portion, however.”

“W-what does i-i-it s-say?” Elias asked once more, his breath quickening.

“‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…’,” Severus said quietly. “That is all of it I know. That much has already come to pass, however I can only imagine that the portion I do not know contains much more pressing information which is currently applicable.”

“D-does he kn-now the whol-le thing?” Elias asked, wide eyed.

“No, he does not,” Severus admitted. “And the only one who can access the prophecy as it is is you. Again, this is why I assumed the headmaster had told you.”

“D-d-does it r-really m-m-matter? W-will it a-actually c-c-com-me t-true?”

“If it is a true prophecy, which it certainly seems as though it is, it will occur,” Severus said before glaring once more at his son, though the ferocity of earlier was missing. “However, prophecy or not, I will not allow you to partake in activities which are detrimental to your health and well being. That means no sneaking around the castle, which I’m honestly surprised you haven’t done-”

“‘M n-not s-stup-p-p-pid,” Elias muttered as Severus continued.

“- no skipping meals, and no flying without direct adult supervision and only after you have been seizure free for six months.”

“‘M g-g-ground-ded, aren’t I.”

“Yes, Mr. Snape,” Severus said with a malicious grin. “You are grounded. And you will be serving detention with Mr. Malfoy as well.”