“I want to give Harry extra tutoring sessions each week, Minerva,” Severus quietly said as the the weekly staff meeting drew to a close.
He had spent the last two hours listening to everyone list their litanies of woe about the start of term and mischievous students. Unsurprisingly, the Potter boy was on everyone’s mind, and Snape had trouble controlling his temper as professor after professor maligned the boy’s character and bemoaned the boy’s magical ineptitude. If the situation wasn’t so personal, Severus would have laughed at the irony. Harry Potter was the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived-Shatter-Expectations, and here he was being talked about as though he were practically a squib. He almost choked on his coffee when Professor Flitwick commented that Neville Longbottom had more magical ability than Mr. Potter.
Had McGonagall and Dumbledore not risen to Harry’s defense, Snape would have lost his temper and hexed a few of his more vocal coworkers. As it was, Snape realized that while Albus and Minerva at least recognized Harry’s potential, neither seemed able to connect with the boy enough to teach him. No, that honor was given to him, and him alone, and he would be damned if the ignorant and intolerant staff at Hogwarts denied Harry the education he clearly wanted, needed, and was capable of achieving.
“Are you sure, Severus?” McGonagall asked, just as quietly. “As much of a natural as he is at potion making, he does have obvious difficulty using his wand and his frustration has led to a few spectacular shows of temper.”
Snape raised his eyebrow in response. He had been called into a few of the boy’s classes already to help handle those bursts of temper until the staff learned to recognize the signs that Harry was losing control. He sighed, aware that he had demonstrated his own volatile temper and impatience quite regularly with students deemed less difficult than Harry. He didn’t expect people to understand that he he could be quite patient with those who needed it while having zero tolerance for those who expected leniency for lazy behavior.
“Have you had any luck in curtailing the, ah, teasing Harry is receiving from Finnigan and Thomas?” he asked, changing the subject.
It was Minerva’s turn to sigh.
“Harry won’t say much, not that I expect him to. The Weasleys have taken him under their collective wings, and that support has stopped a lot of the more physical hazing that was occurring. I can’t do much if Harry doesn’t report anything. You know that, Severus.”
Severus did know that. He also knew that Harry had been systematically taught by his abysmal excuse for relatives not to recognize mistreatment as mistreatment. He just chocked it up to how families were supposed to be outside of the Muggle contraption called a television. Growing up in an environment like the one provided by the Dursley’s had effectively blinded Harry to what sort of behavior was appropriate and what was abusive. Internalizing their mistreatment and neglect had left him helpless to defend against most of the torment thrown his way. He just accepted it as normal while simultaneously demonstrating an inability to control the negative emotions such treatment evoked. How could he be expected to verbalize sadness and frustration if he didn’t really understand what those meant?
“But what of his friends? Surely they report---”
“Oh, they do, Severus, but I can’t prove who changed Harry’s socks from white to green. I can’t prove who tripped him in the hall on the way to class the other day. I can’t see everyone who mocks his mannerisms, and neither can the prefects. Taking points has just driven the more obnoxious students underground, as it were. Harry has managed to make friends with just about everyone he meets, so most of the students look out for him.”
Severus allowed a rare smile to grace his face. After the Welcoming Feast, the speech he had given to Slytherin House regarding Harry Potter had made his zero tolerance policy towards bullying and teasing perfectly clear. He had been pleased to see most of his students accept Harry as just a little bit odd, but not a threat. Malfoy and Co aside, his house had made him proud.
“Yes, I suppose it helps that when he meets someone the first words out of his mouth are now ‘Hi, I’m Harry and I have an excellent smile. See?’” Severus allowed his grin to morph into a rendition of Harry’s beaming smile.
McGonagall laughed.
“I believe Granger told him that, and he’s taken to repeating it,” she said.
“Back to the topic of tutoring, though, Minerva. I would like to see Harry at least three times a week in the evenings for one-on-one lessons. I think that a few hours after dinner will suffice for now. He might be cognitively able to understand what is being taught in his classes, but he desperately needs someone to spend the time helping him with his wandwork and fine motor skills in general. I’ve been reading up on therapies the Muggles use for kids like Harry, and were he not enrolled in Hogwarts he would be having something called ‘Occupational Therapy.’”
Severus looked over at McGonagall to see if she understood.
“What are you smirking at, Minvera?” he asked a bit warily. She was almost as bad as Dumbledore at giving knowing looks with twinkling eyes. He did not appreciate it but had learned that it was better to ignore it than to focus too much on it.
“Six months ago you were practically frothing at the mouth at the mere mention of--and I quote--’Harry James-bloody-Potter,’ but now you are one of his favorite people and have started acting almost parental.”
Severus sneer quickly softened. He sighed.
“Minerva, if not me, then who? Perceptions change. I don’t see bloody old Potter when I look at Harry. I don’t see Lily, even though he has her eyes. I don’t see the scar. I don’t see anything but a little boy who, through no fault of his own, has no one to advocate for him. You heard the others. They don’t see Harry as a gift, they see him as a burden, as a problem. I care because I must.
Who else will protect the boy from the ignorance of our peers, Minerva? Who else will help him reach his full potential when most people think he is impossible to teach and who can’t bother themselves to try? Who else will stand up for him when he can’t explain what he needs?
I don’t know why Harry is different, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Harry is more than just a collection of labels, more than a symbol, more than a name people hero-worship. Harry is just a boy who needs extra support and I can give it to him.”
Severus trailed off, not quite sure what had gotten into him. It wasn’t like him to be so open with his thoughts. He felt Minerva’s hand on his shoulder.
“Harry is lucky to have you as a protector, Severus. So, three evenings a week, after dinner, for the three hours until curfew?”
Severus nodded once.
“For now, that will suffice.”
“Oh, I let Harry tryout for the Gryffindor Quidditch team---”
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by an outraged shout from the potions master.
“You WHAT? Have you gone mad?”
“Severus! He has a gift. I wanted to give him a hobby, something to help him fit in a bit better with the other students.”
“No, you wanted to win the Quidditch Cup at the expense of an eleven-year-old who can’t tie his own shoes or perform a simple Lumos without tears and twenty minutes of guided effort.”
“Severus!”
“I take it Harry was ecstatic and has been talking of nothing but Quidditch for the past two days?”
“Actually, he told me he didn’t want to play Quidditch.”
Severus paused, intrigued.
“He doesn’t want to play Quidditch?”
“No.”
“Did he offer any reasons or was this another ‘no’ and nothing else sort of conversation?”
Severus smiled as he remembered trying to engage Harry in a conversation about something other than his beloved chemistry, and had absolutely no luck. All the boy had said was ‘no’ and then completely shut Severus out.
“Well, I got him to at least try out for the team, but it was a complete disaster.”
Minerva started laughing.
“He is an excellent flyer, but he refused to chase the snitch. He spent his whole tryout flying around the pitch, effortlessly putting the older players to shame, but could not be bothered to catch the snitch. Wood kept badgering Harry to at least try, but all Harry would say is ‘No, thank you.‘ By the end, poor Wood was practically apoplectic, but the rest of the team was thoroughly amused.”
Severus smiled.
“Afterwards, Harry regaled me with a lecture on the violent and uncontrolled nature of the, being sure to list off all the deaths and serious injuries. Well, you know how he gets. I had to guide the conversation if I wanted to have one, after all.”
Severus did know.
“He told me ‘No Quidditch, Professor. Just flying, please. No balls. No screaming.”
“They screamed at him, Minerva?”
“Oh, not at him per se, and not angrily, either. The band of Gryffindors who turned out to watch tryouts was quite vocal. It upset him. He hears shouting and it’s automatically interpreted as him doing something wrong even if the words are encouraging. So, despite my best efforts to get the student who would undoubtedly be the best seeker the school has seen in some time to play on my team, Severus, he just was completely uninterested.”
“Good.”
The pair sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“Harry is easy to love, isn’t he?” asked Minerva.
“Quite so,” Snape affirmed quietly. “I hear it is because he has an excellent smile.”
Because I Must