Chapter 11 – Week 11
11 November, 1991 – Early morning
A FEEBLE MINDED SAVIOUR!
Internal sources have revealed a shocking truth to this reporter. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, did not achieve that status unharmed. In fact, my sources have revealed that he is little more than a feeble-minded simpleton living under the protection of the shadowed house of Slytherin . . .
Severus threw the Daily Prophet down onto his dining table, his face contorted in fury. Around him, various vials and books began rattling as his usually under control magic began to react to his barely constrained anger.
"Severus?" Hadwyn's familiar voice broke him free of his fugue and he turned towards the other man with a snarl.
"Have you seen this drivel?" He growled, throwing the paper at his friend.
Hadwyn scanned the front page quickly, his face darkening impressively as he read. "I suggest," he said a few moments later through gritted teeth, "That we talk to Dumbledore right now."
. . .
Hearing raised voices from the other side of Dumbledore's office door stopped Severus and Hadwyn in their tracks. Severus raised one long finger to his lips and then together they both leaned in to listen.
"I won't have this school pandering to the so-called needs of someone who needs to be in St. Mungos, Albus! As Lucius Malfoy pointed out just this morning, who knows how much the other children's educations are suffering as a result of him!"
Severus had heard enough. He knocked sharply on the door and then entered before Dumbledore had a chance to get a word out. Hadwyn came in behind him, hulking more like a large angry lumberjack than the mild mannered healer he normally chose to show himself as.
"Ah Severus; I thought I'd be seeing you sometime today," Dumbledore greeted him with. The older man's mouth turned up in a slight smile, even if the twinkle in his eyes was a bit dimmer than usual.
"Snape," Fudge sneered, looking coolly back at them both, although his eyes flashed suspiciously to Hadwyn more than once.
"Cornelius, this is Mr. Long, an associate of both Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape."
Fudge gave a short nod to Hadwyn, but did not say anything.
More the better, Severus thought, purposefully letting his distaste for the man temper his expression.
"Minister Fudge believes that Mr. Potter is . . . incapable of attending school as a typical student," Dumbledore stated slowly, his eyes staring back at Severus in a purposeful manner.
"Incapable in what way?" Hadwyn's calm deep voice broke through Severus' growing rage over Fudge's visit.
"Mentally," Fudge answered, interjecting himself into the foray when Dumbledore tried to explain. "There are allegations that the boy may be unsuitable to enduring a vigorous academic environment."
Severus was quite certain that there were many students in the past—and the present—that currently fit that description, although he kept that observation to himself.
"Whose allegations are these?" Severus asked instead, his voice barely more than an icy hiss of contempt for the political rat standing so imperiously before them.
"Most noticeably, Lucius Malfoy," Fudge shot back coolly, the sheen on his forehead the only sign that Severus glower was getting to him.
"Ah, and I suppose his word was the only one, or are you bringing this subject to light alongside other less reputable claims as well?" Severus managed, his teeth not quite gritted.
"Students have written their parents complaining. I am here as an investigator," Fudge answered haughtily.
"Perhaps work better left to the aurors?" Hadwyn asked, pushing himself into the conversation with a scowl that nearly matched Severus' own.
"Yes well, one must not forget the kind of image that sort of thing would produce!"
"Unfairly bias against Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived? Or maybe the Ministry is merely trying to find a new scapegoat, hm?" Severus growled, stepping forward into Fudge's personal space.
The smaller man gulped and carefully slid backwards, running his back into the front of Dumbledore's desk. "You do not dare to try and threaten a Ministry official!" he blustered back, the sheen on his forehead beginning to turn into visible droplets of sweat.
"But you are here threatening one of Severus' snakes," Dumbledore's calmly spoken accusation caught them all off guard.
Severus, for one, had not expected the headmaster to visibly side with him on anything, particularly not this matter, and particularly not to Fudge.
"His snakes," Fudge spat, clearly not impressed. "You know as well as I do that Harry Potter's parents would have demanded his resorting were they still alive. It's disreputable to have allowed the boy to be sorted into Slytherin in the first place."
Severus narrowed his eyes and was about to set into Fudge full tilt when Dumbledore's voice intervened once more.
"You will not demean any house of Hogwarts, Cornelius," Dumbledore's tone was chiding, but his face was immobile in its anger. "Either state your business, or leave."
"Fine," Fudge reddened, but then straightened his spine and turned his back on Severus and Hadwyn as though they no longer were important enough to concern him.
Severus bristled at the implied insult, but kept his mouth shut at Hadwyn's light touch to his shoulder.
"I have come here to inquire—nay, to see proof of Mr. Potter's so-called magical understanding, and then have a meeting with him afterwards to discuss the results."
"As a first year, you do understand that his magical understanding is only very rudimentary, do you not, Cornelius?" Dumbledore's brow was furrowed, even though his eyes had regained their customary twinkle.
"As the boy-who-lived, he should be at least on par with his classmates, if not exceeding far beyond them," Fudge all but snapped back.
"He is only a boy, Cornelius," Dumbledore countered, his tone revealing more than a little melancholy.
"He has not been only a boy since the fall of You-Know-Who nearly a decade ago!" Fudge very nearly screamed back.
"He will not be meeting with you alone," Severus stepped forward once more, into Fudge's sight.
"And I suppose you will want to be there with him?" Fudge laughed coldly back at him.
"I will," Severus answered with narrowed eyes, his hand itching for his wand.
"I don't see how your presence concerns him," was Fudge's cool response.
"I am the boy's head of house, and his legal guardian," Severus growled back, leaning forward in a way that he knew to be particularly intimidating. "You will have this meeting with me present, or you will not have it at all, are we understood?"
Fudge stared back up at him as though he had never truly looked at him, and then with a bitter snort, he conceded with a quick nod.
"We will be discussing this in more depth at a later time, Albus," Fudge hissed as he made his way back to the floo.
"That went well," Hadwyn remarked with a long sigh as soon as Fudge had left.
. . .
Later that day . . .
"I'm not so certain that we should have a regular session, Severus," Hadwyn said, his eyes betraying his worry for Harry.
"And what shall we do instead? Hold a tea party and work on our manners?" Severus retorted bitterly.
"Now that you mention it . . ." Hadwyn answered with a small smile to show that he was teasing. "I'm certain my mother would say that mine needed work."
"Your mother would," Severus said with a raised eyebrow. Changing tactics it seemed, he added, "Despite popular opinion, Harry is not an idiot."
"And you think I don't know that?" Hadwyn strode over to where Severus was standing and planted himself in front of his face.
"Fudge doesn't know."
"Fudge is an idiotic little twit," Hadwyn responded.
"You're going to have to do better than that to cheer me up," Severus answered morosely, finally taking a seat on the sofa that Harry would soon be curled up on.
With a sigh, Hadwyn sat down beside him, his eyes narrowed as he stared off into nothing, a speculative expression on his face.
"Who's going to judge Harry's skills?" He finally asked.
Severus leaned his head back on the cushion behind him and closed his eyes, trying to recall what Dumbledore had said to him earlier in private.
"His current teachers are going to be present, but there will also be various 'qualified employees' from the Ministry present."
"Wonderful," a sarcastic sounding Hadwyn answered with. "Hopefully no one will be there that Harry has an instant disliking to."
Just then, there was a knock on the door and moments later, Harry came bounding into the room.
"Hi 'fessor Snape," was Harry's unusually calm declaration.
Severus felt his lap invaded then by his ward, and he opened his eyes to find bright green ones staring intently back at him.
"You's sad," Harry whispered, reaching up and touching his fingers to the side of Severus' stubbled cheek.
"Tired," Severus tried to dissuade him.
But Harry was having none of it. He shook his head in disagreement and wrapped thin arms around Severus' neck. "Sad."
. . .
11 November, 1991
Healer: Hadwyn Long
Student: Harry Potter
Accompanying Guardian: Severus Snape
Hadwyn: I feel I should tell you both that I'm starting the recording quill now.
Harry: [He nods, not taking his attentions away from Severus].
Severus: [He nods as well].
Hadwyn: Why do you think Severus is sad, Harry?
Harry: [His lower lip protrudes slightly]. Looks, feels, smells. [He nods].
Hadwyn: That's a very concise description, Harry. What do you do when someone is sad?
Severus: [He raises an eyebrow, looking at Hadwyn and then back at Harry].
Harry: [He visibly thinks for a moment]. Hugs. And kisses. [He smiles happily]. And sometimes candy, but my 'fessor doesn't like candy, I don't thinks.
Hadwyn: Who taught you about what to do when someone is sad? [At Harry's blank look, he tries again]. Where did you learn that you should give hugs and kisses to sad people?
Harry: [He pauses and then turns back to Severus, almost apologetically]. Auntie would gives Dudley hugs and loves when he was hurt or sads. Dids I do bad? [His wide green eyes are worried as he stares intently back at Severus].
Severus: [Brushing his lips over the top of Harry's long, soft head of hair]. No, you did very well, Harry. Did your aunt ever give you love like that?
Harry: [He shakes his head "no"]. Only good little boys get loves.
Severus: [His face is abruptly unreadable].
Hadwyn: And are you not a 'good little boy,' Harry?
Harry: [He shakes his head again]. Good little boys have daddies and mummies that want thems and give them rooms and homes and says they're theirs.
Side note: 'A surprisingly intuitive response.'
Severus: [He frowns and tightens his arms around Harry]. You have a room here, Harry. [His voice is surprisingly rough].
Harry: It's the nicest. [He nods, looking up at Severus with a smile].
Severus: [His forehead furrows]. I believe I've already said you were mine, Harry.
Harry: And you's mine! [He nods energetically, clapping his hands lightly].
Severus: I think you're a very good boy. [He says in a whisper].
Harry: You're the bestest nicest goodest 'fessor evers. [He hugs Severus quickly].
Severus: [He looks strained]. I might as well do this in front of witnesses. [He says in a low mutter]. Harry, I need your honesty. Can you do that for me?
Harry: [His eyes are very wide and nearly shining]. Oh! I can do anything for my 'fessor. I cans!
Severus: Harry . . . I want you as my son; I want to be your father.
End notes: 'I feel that this conversation has gone into the more personal range now, and therefore will be ending the quill's dictation.'
. . .
November 12th – Early morning – Greenhouses
Those present include: Professor Sprout, Harry Potter, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt
"Kingsley, I do hope you're taking notes," Professor Sprout said sternly.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered lightly, dropping a wink at the small boy standing partially behind her.
"I knows what that was!" He thought he heard Potter exclaim, and he smiled gently at the child.
He had heard stories about the boy, but until meeting him a few minutes earlier, he had not truly believed any of them. Now however, he was willing to make his own opinions, Fudge and his cronies be damned.
"Mr. Potter—Harry, please tell Mister Shacklebolt about some of the plants that we have learned about thus far this year," Sprout instructed, eyeing Kingsley closely as Harry stepped closer.
"You's not a p'fessor?" Harry craned his head up to see Shacklebolt, his green eyes wide.
"No, I am not," he stated simply, crouching down to Harry's level.
"Am I a p'fessor now?" Was Harry's next question, his voice wondering.
"In a way, yes," he smiled. "But only for the week."
Harry shrugged idly and then grinned. "'Kays. I can do thats." The boy reached out one small hand and latched it around a few of Kingsley's fingers. "Come this ways," Harry said, nodding happily as he led the man over to the nearest row of plants.
Kingsley quickly made his way to his feet, and found himself standing beside what looked like a set of muggle Venus fly traps.
"Can't put your fingers inside their mouths, nope nope nope," Harry said, shaking his head in the negative. "But, you cans scratch under their chins, here," the boy added, gesturing with his free hand to a spot that Kingsley thought could loosely be considered a "chin."
"They likes that," Harry nodded, looking back at him briefly.
"And why should you do that?"
Harry blinked up at Kingsley as though he had asked a preposterous question. "Well, 'cause it makes them happy."
"Why is it important that they're happy?" Kingsley tried again.
Harry tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. "If they happy, then they grows."
"And?"
"And they sheds the leaves, and my 'fessor can uses them for his potions that make people's tummies better," Harry said at last, nodding several times back at him.
Kingsley only had one question. "Who's your 'fessor?"
He felt, more than saw the smile that crossed over Professor Sprout's face at his inquiry.
"Oh, my 'fessor Snape! He's the bestest, goodest, nicest p'fessor ever," Harry answered brightly, smiling hugely up at him.
"Is he?" Kingsley asked mildly, exchanging a glance with Professor Sprout.
"Oh! He is, he is," Harry nodded, automatically taking Kingsley's hand as they started walking back towards the castle. "He's my head of house, ands he's my 'fessor, and he's my friend, and he says that I'm a good little boy and dat I never has to go back to my aunt and uncle, 'cause Slytherins are a family and we take cares of our owns," Harry chattered on in a similar vein until he had deposited Kingsley back at Professor Sprout's office and then trotted on his way.
"Well?" Pomona finally asked him after they were sure they were alone.
"As far as I'm concerned, he's passed this part," Kingsley said with a grin. "I just hope that Severus isn't going to kill him before the end of the school year."
At his words, Pomona smiled. "Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that."
. . .
Date: 12 November, 1991
House: Hufflepuff
Student Name: Morag MacDougal
Morag: Why were you with that man and Harry this morning?
Sprout: A large black man?
Morag: Yes, him. [She suddenly looks pensive]. Harry's not in trouble, is he?
Sprout: [She hesitates briefly]. I hope not.
As for your original question, the man is an auror from the Ministry. Minister Fudge has decided to submit Harry to academic testing to ensure that he is capable of learning.
Morag: [She frowns and turns away before finally asking]. It's a bit odd though, don't you think?
Sprout: What is, dear?
Morag: Well, not having been raised in the wizarding world myself, I only know what I've picked up in the past few months, but it seems that Harry Potter gets the short end of the stick more often than not.
Sprout: [She sighs]. Yes, it does seem like that, doesn't it.
Morag: I think they should just leave him alone and let him go to school like the rest of us.
Sprout: As much as I'd like to agree with you, I'm sorry to say that it just isn't possible. Harry's important to our world, and as a result, it's made him a bit of a target.
Morag: He's just a kid. [She says with a stubborn look].
Sprout: [Smiling slightly]. You are all children.
Morag: [She shakes her head in the negative]. He's the smallest in our class by far. He's really innocent and almost like a little kid, not an eleven year old. Something happened to him, didn't it? Something bad?
Sprout: [She hesitates longer this time].
Morag: Just because he's some great saviour of the wizarding world, it doesn't mean that he doesn't need to be taken care of. [She crosses her arms and frowns].
Sprout: I do agree with you, dear. There is simply nothing that can be done at present.
Morag: [Shaking her head]. When my sister and I were in school together, my mum never just sat by and let stuff happen to us. She'd call up the school and complain, and if that didn't work, she'd go over their heads. Do you think . . . do you think she could contact the ministry and do the same thing, but for Harry?
Sprout: [A smile creeps slowly onto her face as she considers the idea]. There certainly would be no harm in trying.
Morag: [She relaxes]. I'm owling my mum tonight then. I think she'll like having a way to be involved in my life now.
End notes: 'I think she's right. It is also suddenly more apparent why the Sorting Hat placed her in Hufflepuff. She's hardworking, yes, but loyal as well, and not only to her housemates. It's interesting how these sorts of things can be revealed in times of stress/persecution.'
. . .
Date: 12 November, 1991
House: Hufflepuff
Student Name: Hannah Abbott
Hannah: [She smiles shyly]. I looked up the all-girls Quidditch team that you were telling me about last week.
Sprout: [With a smile]. And?
Hannah: They were Slytherins!
Sprout: So they were. Does that bother you?
Hannah: [She hesitates]. Not really. I think it's rather nice, actually.
Sprout: In what way?
Hannah: It shows . . . it shows that Slytherin girls are just as tough as the boys, and maybe sometimes tougher.
Sprout: [Smiling broadly]. It's not just the Slytherin girls that are tough, Ms. Abbott.
Hannah: [She ducks her head and looks at her nails for a moment]. My mum has never really said it, but I've always got the idea that she thinks girls are supposed to be gentler, or nicer or something than boys. I like . . .
Sprout: What do you like, dear?
Hannah: [She blushes slightly]. I like the idea that girls can be strong and loud and . . . oh, I don't know, annoying! [She laughs nervously].
Sprout: [Laughing with her]. Yes we can. And if anyone should ever give you grief for this idea, I encourage you to refer them to me.
Hannah: All right. [She nods seriously, although her smile is present].
End notes: 'I think it might be advantageous to contact a few Hogwarts alumni and see if they would be willing to speak to the girls in my house. Actually, now that I think of it, I think that the entire group could benefit from such a discussion.'
. . .
Date: 12 November, 1991
House: Hufflepuff
Student Name: Justin Finch-Fletchley
Justin: Is it true what I've been hearing about Harry Potter?
Sprout: And what is it that you've been hearing, Mr. Finch-Fletchley?
Justin: That the Ministry has decided to test him to see if he's ready for school; that is, academically speaking?
Sprout: [With a sigh]. More or less, yes.
Justin: Good.
Sprout: [She raises her eyebrows]. Pardon?
Justin: I think it's a good idea. If we were in a typical muggle school, that would have already been done, and he wouldn't be here. He'd be somewhere else where his needs can be better met.
Sprout: What sort of "somewhere else" do you mean?
Justin: [He shrugs]. A different school. Or at least extra help in his classes. Something.
Sprout: As it happens, the minister has proposed sending Harry to St. Mungo's.
Justin: [He purses his lips for a moment]. I suppose that with the magical world's almost medieval attitude, that's likely the best option he can offer.
Sprout: If he were to go there, he would be treated more like an invalid than like the child he is.
Justin: But they would help him, wouldn't they? Or at least attempt to, instead of ignoring him.
Sprout: [Turning pink]. We do not ignore Mr. Potter here.
Justin: No. [He smiles coldly]. We just pretend that he can learn the same way as everyone else, without taking into account the idea that perhaps he can't learn at all. Face it, professor. If Harry Potter were anyone else, he would have already been declared broken and sent on his way.
Sprout: I disagree. And even in your muggle world, I don't think they refer to children as "broken."
End notes: 'I'm not sure which has made me angrier; the idea that Harry is broken or that we are not doing anything to help him.'
. . .
November 13th – Mid-morning – Charms classroom
Those present include: Professor Flitwick, Harry Potter, Auror Alastor Moody
"Whys you gots a wood leg?" Harry asked Moody shortly after being introduced to the gnarled older man.
Beside him, he dimly registered the sound of a quickly drawn in gasp, but he paid it no mind. Mr. Moody was still staring at him, and he didn't want to accidentally miss the man's response.
"Blasted off by an unhappy dragon," Moody answered with a growl a moment later.
Harry's eyebrows shot up at his answer.
"Did it hurt lots?" Was Harry's honest reaction as he stared back at Moody, nearly unblinking.
"More'n I can tell yeh about here lad," Moody said, eyeing Flitwick carefully.
"Harry," Flitwick squeaked, forcefully choosing to change the the subject before it got even more uncomfortable. "Why don't you show Moody some of the charms you've learned so far this term?"
His eyes still overly wide, Harry nodded and pulled out his wand. Turning to a pile of books, his brows went down and a little pink tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in an obvious show of concentration.
He pointed his wand at the pile of books and flicked it upwards. Obediently, the books rose into the air at his silent command, rising almost to the ceiling before floating gracefully back down.
"Harry," Flitwick asked, his eyes now almost as wide as Harry's had been earlier. "Why didn't you say the words like we've been practicing?"
Harry shrugged and looked back towards the two men staring at him. "I dunno. Didn't needs it, I think. 'Sides! It worked betters without," he nodded, smiling at long last.
"Can't deny that," was Moody's gruff response. "Can yeh do any other charms yet? They don't have ta be quiet."
Quickly Harry showed that he had also learned a heating charm, and also one that instantly tied his shoelaces. The first he did with the words, but the second was silent once more.
"Where did you learn that charm, Harry?" Flitwick asked, looking at him curiously.
"My 'fessor taught me!" Harry said proudly, smiling happily. "Auntie never helped me wit' thems, so my 'fessor showed me a real fast way. He saids that I cans do it almost faster'n him now!"
Moody merely raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything to Harry's declaration. Kingsley had told him about who Harry's "'fessor" was, and had also issued him a warning not to demean the man within Harry's hearing.
After seeing Harry successfully perform silent magic, he privately agreed with Kingsley's warning. The boy was unusual to be sure, but not incapable of learning; no matter how much the minister might try to fool them into thinking so.
. . .
Date: 13 November, 1991
House: Ravenclaw
Student Name: Lisa Turpin
Lisa: It doesn't happen very often, you know.
Flitwick: What doesn't?
Lisa: Abuse of children in the wizarding world. [Her arms are crossed and her chin juts forward in an interesting mix of anger and stubbornness].
Flitwick: Ah. [He leans back, putting his hands palm down on his legs]. It also isn't reported very often either, considering the social stigma that is associated with such a thing.
Lisa: Well, it shouldn't happen at all.
Flitwick: There I will agree with you wholeheartedly, child. Do you understand yet why wizarding abusers can get away with more than their muggle counterparts?
Lisa: Because they're more careful?
Flitwick: [He sighs]. In a way. Magic also allows for invisible injuries. And since the abusers themselves are not likely to turn themselves in, it falls to the rest of us to determine those various . . . mysteries.
Lisa: [She frowns]. And the abused don't turn their abusers in, because . . . ?
Flitwick: Would you? If it were your father or mother? Do you understand what it is to be abused? What if you had no other experiences to compare to?
Lisa: [She continues to frown back at Flitwick and then abruptly she turns away]. I think I need some more time to think about this.
Flitwick: As you will, child.
End notes: 'Not encouraging, but better than last week.'
. . .
Date: 13 November, 1991
House: Ravenclaw
Student Name: Sabrina Fawcett
Sabrina: Professor Flitwick?
Flitwick: Yes child?
Sabrina: Do you keep up with the news from outside of Hogwarts, even outside of the wizarding world?
Flitwick: Not as much as I should perhaps. Why?
Sabrina: Well . . . [suddenly speaking in a rush] . . . I don't know if you heard about this, but there was a shooting in an American university a week or so ago where one of the students killed some professors.
Flitwick: [His eyebrows are raised almost comically high]. How old was the student? [He manages after a moment of shocked silence].
Sabrina: My grandmother says he was an adult, something like a master's student? I'm not really sure what that is, but . . . I guess it still made me think a bit, you know?
Flitwick: About what, precisely? [His voice is noticeably softer].
Sabrina: I guess . . . well, I know that they say that muggle electronics won't work around Hogwarts, but what about their weapons? What about, you know, what about guns? [She asks the last question in a near whisper].
Flitwick: The wards surrounding Hogwarts should recognize a gun as being a potentially harmful object, and thus cause the castle to confiscate such an item before ever allowing it to enter its walls.
Sabrina: [She bites her lip]. What if the wards were down? Is there—are there ways to fight, or I guess really, are there ways to defend against guns? I mean, in a magical sense, that is . . . [She trails off].
Flitwick: There are a number of magical shields that can deflect or halt a projectile object's trajectory. Of course, you are a bit young to learn such things now, but rest assured that they will be addressed later.
Sabrina: If . . . If I can be killed by something like a gun, then why am I too young to learn how to fight against one? [She is blushing a bit by the time she finishes her question].
Flitwick: Child . . . [he looks unhappy]. It is not because I think you are incapable of learning how to work such defensive magic; rather, the problem is that at this age, you simply lack the magical power needed to effectively wield such a thing.
Now, if you ever are confronted with such a dangerous piece of muggle technology . . . [here, his eyes become rather hard] . . . I suggest you keep low and try to escape as soon as possible. It goes without saying that you should contact an adult as well, when you have a chance that is.
Sabrina: [Wide-eyed, she nods her understanding].
End notes: 'Oh what a world we continue to live in!'
. . .
Date: 13 November, 1991
House: Ravenclaw
Student Name: Michael Corner
Flitwick: It occurred to me after you left last week that I might have accidentally mislead you.
Michael: Sir? [He raises an eyebrow in confusion].
Flitwick: When I stated that trolls were no more than dangerous creatures, I meant that it was the Ministry that classifies them as such.
Michael: So . . . [he licks his lips], you don't think they're just dangerous creatures?
Flitwick: I believe that for the most part, if we as wizards leave the so-called "dangerous creatures" alone, then they will largely leave us alone in turn. I do believe that most trolls are dangerous, but I also think that these situations must be taken case by case.
A man can be a dangerous creature too, don't you think, Mr. Corner?
Michael: [He blinks in thought for a moment]. Uh yes sir. But what about vampires and hags and werewolves, sir?
Flitwick: The majority of the time, a werewolf is merely a man. And if he chooses to lock himself up at night during the rest of that time, then it would seem that he is clearly trying to make a concerted effort not to harm other people.
Why then . . . [Flitwick leans back and crosses his legs], is a man who wields a wand in a dangerous way, say against muggles? Why is he still a man and not labelled a "dangerous creature" as well?
Michael: [His brow furrows and he looks down at his hands]. I don't know sir.
Flitwick: [With a sigh]. I don't understand it either, Mr. Corner. And that would be the problem with being an adult.
Michael: Sir?
Flitwick: Unlike in school, especially at this stage of your education, there are no definite right or wrong answers. We can say that murder is wrong, but then are almost always mitigating circumstances.
Michael: I guess . . . well I mean . . .
Flitwick: Yes child?
Michael: It's sorta like discipline here, don't you think?
Flitwick: In that . . .?
Michael: Well, like fighting in the hallways isn't allowed, but if you get attacked from behind or someone pulls their wand on you and there're no teachers around, then you pretty much have to fight back, you know?
Flitwick: I do know. [He gives a slight smile].
Michael: But still, I guess vampires usually don't have a lot of choice either, huh? I suppose they do some, but it'd be sort of hard to go up to a random stranger and say, "Hey, mind if I drink your blood?" [He laughs, but then suddenly falls silent]. Does the ministry really care if vampires drink from muggles?
Flitwick: They say that they do, however I'm not sure they can ever really keep a close eye on such goings on.
Michael: I think—I think I'm going to need to do some more reading on this stuff.
Flitwick: Until next week, Mr. Corner. [He nods].
End notes: 'I feel as though I have just handed him an apple from the forbidden tree of knowledge. I can only hope that he chooses more wisely than the characters in that story did.'
. . .
November 14th – During lunch – Transfiguration Classroom
Those present include: Professor McGonagall, Harry Potter, Madame Amelia Bones
"Now Minerva, according to Professor Quirrell, that's the man's name, yes? According to him, at this stage in DADA, everything is merely theory. My niece Susan confirms this, and so I managed to convince Minister Fudge that there was no reason to evaluate Mr. Potter's skills in that field," Madame Bones said, keeping one eye on the older woman in front of her. The other half of her attention was on the small boy hiding partially behind McGonagall.
"That's a relief at least," Minerva answered with a stiff nod. "Now what do you say we get on with this before we miss lunch, hm?" She asked, changing her usually stern countenance with a smile.
"Too true," Amelia replied with a kind smile of her own. "All right there, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes'm," the boy behind McGonagall said in a low voice.
"He can be a bit shy around strangers," Minerva said quietly, shooting her a significant glance.
"Well Mr. Potter," Amelia said, crouching gracefully so they were on nearly the same level. "Did you know that Susan Bones is my niece? She's in some of your classes, is she not?"
This seemed to encourage him a bit, as she had hoped, and she watched as the boy took a few careful steps away from Minerva.
"She's in my Defence class," Harry offered quietly. "She is, she is," he added with a nod.
"Susan, you mean?" Amelia answered softly, reaching out her hand in what she hoped would be interpreted as welcoming.
"Uh huhs," Harry nodded more vigorously, stepping a little closer to her. "You smells real nice."
"Mr. Potter!" Minerva chided from above them, but Amelia merely laughed softly.
"And what do I smell like, Mr. Potter? Or is it Harry?"
"My 'fessor calls me 'Harry,'" Harry offered, coming in close enough to bump shoulders with her. "You smells like lemon and flowers and nutmegs. You do, you do."
"Good flowers, I would hope?" Amelia asked.
"Uh huhs. Honeysuckles and nice ones like thats. Miss Bones, I has a question," Harry said, ducking his head shyly, and twisting his fingers behind his back nervously.
"What question would that be, child?" Amelia asked kindly.
"Can I gives you just the teensiest of tiniests of hugs?"
Although caught off guard, she agreed and soon the boy clasped his arms—which she noted to be too thin—around her neck, while she very carefully hugged him back.
"Thank you for the hug, Mr. Harry," she whispered in his ear just as he was releasing her neck.
"I think I likes you," he confided to her very softly and then pulled away to stand by McGonagall's side.
She was smiling broadly by the time she stood up again.
"Well Mr. Harry," she said, changing her voice to a more businesslike tone. "May I see you transfigure something?"
Minerva provided them with a few different objects ranging from the typical matchsticks and bolts, to a few more unusual items like a muggle toothbrush and a duck carved out of wood.
"Mr. Potter has shown a talent in transfiguration, but it has a tendency to be somewhat mercurial and finicky about what objects will change for him. Thus, at least for these early days, I have decided to provide him with less common items than what I give the rest of his class," Minerva explained as Harry went through the objects carefully.
"And why is that, do you think?" Amelia asked curiously.
"I believe," Minerva stated slowly, "that it is because he does not make the same connections between items as the rest of us tend to do. He is quite powerful though, as I'm sure he'll demonstrate shortly enough."
"Kays, I ready," Harry announced, holding up the small wooden duck that he had chosen.
"Professor McGonagall informs me that she has been working with your class to transfigure various parts of the traditional tea set. Do you think you could transfigure that duck into something like a teacup or even a teapot?" Amelia asked.
"Uh huhs, I cans do thats," Harry nodded, putting the duck down carefully and pulling out his wand.
Ten minutes later, the duck figurine had taken on the rudimentary appearance of a teapot, and at twenty minutes, it had taken on a yellow sheen and no longer resembled the duck at all. After Harry declared himself finished, Amelia looked inside the teapot, and discovered it to be hollow inside just as it was supposed to be.
"P'fessor McGonagall," Harry said, touching his hand to her sleeve in a way that she seemed to be used to. "I gotsta go eat lunch now. My 'fessor says I gotsta eat every day, more'n twice, and I'll gets in troubles if he don't see me theres. Kays?"
"Madame Bones, is it acceptable if he leaves?" Minerva replied, turning to Amelia with a questioning look.
"Certainly Mr. Harry. It was a pleasure to meet you," Amelia called out as the boy ran out the door.
. . .
Date: 14 November, 1991
House: Gryffindor
Student Name: Ronald Weasley
McGonagall: Are you quite all right, Mr. Weasley?
Ron: [Shifting in his chair with a barely concealed wince]. Granger is teaching me, ma'am.
McGonagall: [A smile flits briefly across her lips]. Ah. And is she working you as hard as she can?
Ron: [He hesitates].
McGonagall: What is it, Mr. Weasley?
Ron: [He rubs a hand through his hair]. This is gonna sound odd, I think, but I'm not real sure that Granger is a she.
McGonagall: I assure you that she is, Mr. Weasley.
Ron: Well, I know she—Granger sleeps in the girls' dorms and all, 'cause she mentioned that Bulstrode was her roommate, but like, I don't think she really is a girl. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?
McGonagall: Not really. [She frowns]. Could you try explaining what you mean about Ms. Granger not really being a girl?
Ron: Like, she's almost more like a boy in a girl's body. [He frowns, slumping in his seat for a moment as he thinks]. Is that possible?
McGonagall: [Sighing]. There are various curses that can cause such an effect, but I doubt that Ms. Granger has been exposed to any of them, especially considering her background. No, likely what is happening here is that for whatever reason, she wishes she could be male.
Ron: I've never . . . [he shakes his head in the negative]. I've never heard of that happening before.
McGonagall: [She gives him a small grim smile]. You are young, Mr. Weasley. And it isn't very common, particularly in the wizarding world. On the other hand, considering the ambiguity between male and female wizarding clothing styles, sometimes it is not as obvious as in the muggle world. If I thought you would do it, I would suggest doing some research into this topic.
Ron: [He frowns]. I guess I could ask my mum, but I think I'd have to make sure she understands that I'm not talking about myself.
McGonagall: [She gives a small snort of laughter]. Oh Mr. Weasley, I doubt your mother will be concerned over that.
End notes: 'Unlike Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley is most certainly a male. And honestly, the idea of him trying to learn about being a girl is quite laughable.'
. . .
Date: 14 November, 1991
House: Gryffindor
Student Name: Neville Longbottom
McGonagall: I hope that whatever inappropriate mood you were in last week has now passed on. [She says, levelling a stern look at him].
Neville: You should try being around Finnigan more often, ma'am. He's like that all the time. I suppose I just, I dunno. I suppose just being around him some rubbed off on me.
McGonagall: I might suggest that in the future, you keep your conversations limited to topics that you would discuss with your Gran.
Neville: [He shudders]. I don't think that's a good idea, ma'am.
McGonagall: [She raises an eyebrow]. Why is that?
Neville: Well, then I'd never talk to you about anything. [He says with a glum expression].
McGonagall: Surely you are exaggerating?
Neville: [He gives a bitter snort].
McGonagall: Mr. Longbottom? [Her face softens out of concern for him].
Neville: She . . . doesn't like me.
McGonagall: Are you certain you're not misinterpreting her stern behaviour?
Neville: You're stern, ma'am. I've seen her . . . you know, with p-people she likes. And then I see her with me. It's . . . [he shakes his head in the negative]. It's not the same.
Side note: 'Oh child.'
McGonagall: She was very proud of your father.
Neville: Who I am not. [He scowls].
McGonagall: [She raises her eyebrows in surprise]. I'm sorry that I didn't understand, Mr. Longbottom. It's difficult to grow up and constantly be compared to someone else, is it not?
Neville: [He swallows hard, but manages to quickly nod in agreement].
McGonagall: Perhaps we can find ways for you to shine out to your Grandmother in your own way.
Neville: I'd—I'd like that. [He manages very softly].
End notes: 'Damn the Death Eaters and their leader to hell and back.'
. . .
Date: 14 November, 1991
House: Gryffindor
Student Name: Parvati Patil
Parvati: Is it normal to have aurors wandering around the school?
McGonagall: [With a sigh]. No, it is not.
Parvati: Why are they here then? Are we in trouble? I haven't read anything in the paper about it.
Side note: 'You mean, your sister hasn't read anything about it.'
McGonagall: They are merely here as representatives of the Ministry. It could be anyone, but I suspect they were chosen because their schedules are looser than some of the other Ministry employees.
Parvati: Oh. But you never said why they're here.
Side note: 'Damn, I was hoping she'd forget.'
McGonagall: They are here to provide an external, independent opinion for one of the students.
Parvati: [Frowning in thought]. Like a 7th year? Or someone taking their O.W.L.s this year?
McGonagall: Younger, but that's the right sort of idea.
Parvati: Huh. I guess I'll learn more about it later then.
McGonagall: It is likely.
End notes: 'Especially if you pull your head out of the sand trap it's been wedged in for the past few months.'
. . .
November 15th – Early morning – Potions Classroom
Those present include: Professor Snape, Harry Potter, Arthur Weasley
"Last I checked, you are not an auror," Snape stated with a sneer that was somehow less biting than usual.
"Fudge thought I owed him a favour," Arthur said with a low chuckle. "I think it also had something to do with whom he thought would be able to survive a morning with you."
Raising an eyebrow, Severus remarked, "Indeed. And what are you going to require Harry to brew this morning?"
If Arthur Weasley was surprised to hear Snape refer to the Boy-Who-Lived by his given name, he hid it very well.
"Hello, Mr. Potter. May I call you Harry?" He asked, noticing the less than hospitable snarl that came from Severus' mouth at his question.
Harry was hidden slightly beside Severus, his hand holding onto the potion master's own with a white knuckled grip of fear.
"Cans you calls me Mr. Harry like Miss Amelia dids?" Was his barely audible response.
"Mr. Harry then, if that's acceptable Severus?" Arthur asked lightly.
"Just get on with it, Arthur. Some of us have work to do this morning," was Severus' testy answer.
"As you wish," Arthur smiled down at Harry and tried to ignore Severus' looming presence. It was easier to remain calm if he kept his thoughts on how protective the man seemed towards the young boy at his side.
"Mr. Harry, I would like to see you make the basic version of the burn healing paste. Do you think you can do that?"
Harry nodded beside Severus and then abruptly released the man's hand and darted over to the ingredients' cabinet. "I cans do that, yup yup yup," Arthur heard him muttering softly as he began setting up his potions' station.
"I'm glad you've managed to put aside your enmity for his father so easily, Severus," Arthur said quietly after Harry was fully submerged in the motions of the task before him.
"Harry is one of my snakes and deserves to be treated as such," was Severus' clipped answer.
Arthur was about to say something else, but a hostile glare from Severus shut his mouth. "Let the boy work in peace, Arthur."
Considering what he knew about the man's teaching style, he found Severus' request to be more than a bit amusing, but wisely managed to keep his humour to himself.
Despite his understanding of potion making, Arthur had always found the process to be more boring than intriguing. He expected this experience to be nothing more than the usual, but Harry surprised him.
The boy was calm and methodical; his actions a severe contrast to his speech, and it made Arthur wonder even more about him. Of course, Ron had written to him about having classes with Harry Potter, but he was finding that the actual experience was truly stranger than his son's descriptions had been.
Surely Severus must know the truth behind this situation, he thought to himself, glancing back and forth between Harry and his professor more than a few times. He resolved to ask him at a later date.
Less than forty minutes had passed when suddenly Harry turned to them—Severus more than him, Arthur noted with some interest—and announced that he was "all dones."
He spoke with Severus as Harry was cleaning up his station, still trying to keep an eye on them both. It was more difficult than it should have been; Severus tended to blend into the shadows without truly trying, and Harry's motions were quick and darting, yet almost completely silent.
"I'll inform the minister of Harry's outstanding work here today," Arthur told him, as much for Severus' hearing as Harry's.
"The minister," Severus spat back distastefully, "informed me initially that he wished to speak with Harry himself, as well. Do you know anything of his plans regarding this?" Severus' expression very plainly told Arthur that he wasn't expecting the man to know of anything, let alone know what he was talking about.
Therefore, Arthur was somewhat relieved that Fudge had already spoken to him about it, and he quickly passed on the man's message. "You'll likely receive an owl later today, but Fudge has decided to postpone the meeting until next week, after he has had a chance to review our reports."
"Hmph," was all that Severus said; his foul expression making it clear exactly what he thought about Fudge's machinations.
"Yes well, I didn't say I believed him," Arthur added with a small smile.
. . .
Date: 17 November, 1991
House: Slytherin
Student Name: Vincent Crabbe
Lives with: Mother and Father
Siblings: One older sister, graduated from Hogwarts in 1989.
Blood status: Pureblood
Magic levels: Average, potential for growth
Last owl received from family: 14 November, 1991
Ongoing impressions: 'Vince is not his father. He is not Draco Malfoy. He is not Harry Potter. Somewhere in the myriad of shifting values that he is required to have for each of the people around him, Vince can be found, but it bothers me that I have not managed to that enough yet.'
Snape: Thank you for returning this week.
Vince: [With a blush]. I apologize for running out last week. Thank you for having me back this week.
Snape: You are welcome. I would not have refused you entrance here, Vince. [He smiles gently].
Vince: Yeah. [He ducks his head in an unusually shy way].
Snape: May I ask you a personal question, Vince? [His voice is soft].
Vince: [He squirms uncomfortably]. I suppose . . .
Side note: 'I hope that I can manage to ask the right question.'
Snape: Why do you not like your father?
Vince: [He gasps softly at the question].
Snape: I might remind you that this will not get back to your father, understand.
Side note: 'And it will not, lest you (Minerva, Filius, Pomona and Albus) feel like finding out what I'm like when PROVOKED.'
Vince: [He slowly wraps his arms around himself]. My da . . . he's not like you. [Vince said in a near whisper as he stared at the floor just in front of Snape's shoes].
Snape: How is that Vince? [He asked softly, trying to keep his voice relaxed].
Vince: [He shrugs].
Snape: Vince? How is he different than me?
Vince: Got bigger hands. [He mumbled].
Snape: Is that all?
Vince: [Shaking his head "no"]. He doesn't listen, sir. Not to me or my mum. My sister, she graduated Hogwarts and never came back.
Snape: [He is very calm]. I remember your sister. She was a kind person.
Vince: [He nods hurriedly and sucks in a lungful of air]. My da doesn't like me, I don't think. [He manages in a whisper]. Can I go now? [He looks as though he's about to bolt from the room, permission or not].
Snape: You may. [He says softly].
End notes: 'Well, that was something at least.'
. . .
Date: 17 November, 1991
House: Slytherin
Student Name: Hermione Granger
Lives with: Mother and Father
Siblings: None
Roommates: Millicent Bulstrode
Blood status: Muggle born.
Magic levels: Semi-powerful
Last owl received from family: 16 November, 1991.
Ongoing impressions: 'I am trying to endeavour not to be surprised by the child.'
Snape: And how has your week progressed?
Granger: [S/He narrows hir eyes]. I can't see why I would have mattered to you at all this week.
Snape: What do you mean? [He raises an eyebrow].
Granger: [Giving an exasperated sigh]. Harry. Why should the Ministry of Magic give a damn—well, I understand why, but how can they get away with it, politically speaking, if they aren't going to give a damn about any of the other students with similar problems?
Side note: 'Very shrewd reasoning, especially for someone so young, but as I mentioned, I'm trying to keep an open mind.'
Snape: I don't believe that Minister Fudge is very adept at thinking long term.
Granger: [S/He gives a derisive snort]. Clearly. Would you like to know what I think? [Asked slyly].
Side note: 'Comments like this put me on edge.'
Snape: [He purses his lips]. What do you think, Mr. Granger?
Granger: [S/He blushes with a small smile]. I think that adults are really no more than children. I think that adults just bigger and older, but not really any wiser than teenagers.
Snape: [He smirks]. I can see why you might think this. However, I for one can attest that my older self is more mature than my younger self ever considered.
Granger: [S/He appears thoughtful]. Maybe it's just certain people who get mature as they grow older?
Snape: What sorts of people?
Granger: [Hir brow furrows]. People who know what the world is like, maybe.
Snape: Ones who are aware of its dangers, perhaps?
Granger: [S/He nods seriously]. Ones with experience. [S/He adds softly a moment later].
Snape: And would you say that you are one of those experienced in the ways of the world?
Granger: [S/He closes hir eyes briefly]. What do you think?
Snape: I think you are. [He says quietly].
Granger: [S/He gives a bitter snort]. And as always, you must be right . . . if only because you are, I suppose.
End notes: 'And she left shortly after that. This is confirmation that I am right to worry, but nothing has yet been confirmed as to what it is I should be definitely worrying about.'
. . .
Date: 17 November, 1991
House: Slytherin
Student Name: Draco Malfoy
Lives with: Mother and Father
Siblings: None
Roommates: Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott
Blood status: Pureblood
Magic levels: Above average
Last owl received from family: 15 November, 1991
Ongoing impressions: 'I ended the hexes that he was submitted to last week in the vain hope that he might think to thank me . . . now I wonder what it would be like if he were to be shunned. Or maybe it would be helpful if I could convince someone to be his mentor. Unfortunately, the only ones who might agree easily enough are the students whom he'd be better off staying away from. It is a quandary, to be sure.'
Snape: Have you learned anything of consequence this week?
Draco: [He is sullen]. In what way?
Snape: Academically, socially . . . what have you.
Draco: [He sneers]. Oh I assure you, I have learned many things.
Side note: 'If he were older or more powerful, I might be frightened of this statement. As it is, I'm afraid I see it as no more than a sign of his continuing petulance.'
Snape: And they would be?
Draco: Hm, let's see. The supposed loyalty which you have given my father over the years does not apparently extend to me, for one.
Snape: I have tried to help you repeatedly this school year, but you have ignored me each and every time.
Draco: [He continues talking as though Snape did not speak]. Two, the supposed family unity of which my father mentioned to me in regards to the house of Slytherin does not extend to those whom its head of house does not like.
Snape: Another falsehood. [He scowls].
Side note: 'There are plenty whom I dislike. You are special only in that you are not special.'
Draco: Oh and let us not forget! Your ridiculous devotion to the imbecilic Potter. [He sucks in a deep breath]. I am sure the loyal elite would be interested in learning of your denial to their staunchly held principles.
Side note: 'If I am to become Harry's father, I do not see myself trying to continue relationships with the so-called loyal elite anyway.'
Snape: [He raises an eyebrow]. Let me see here, Draco. [He says in a deep purring voice]. You would think to betray your head of house to the parents of most of your housemates? Is that what you are saying?
Draco: You are the betrayer. [He tries to sneer, but it comes off as more of a pout].
Side note: 'Just because you are too stupid to see the machinations of those around you . . .'
Snape: [He smiles abruptly]. I grow weary of your unending words, Draco. If you have something new to say, then by all means, please say it.
Draco: [Scowling]. You'll be sorry for this, Severus.
End notes: 'No, I rather think I won't.'
. . .
Date: 17 November, 1991
House: Slytherin
Student Name: Harry Potter
Lives with: As head of his house, I am now his official guardian, per Slytherin bylaws. His Aunt's family is currently on wizarding trial for child abuse.
Siblings: None
Ongoing infirmary report: He is taking a variety of nutritional potions with each and every meal, and he will continue taking a full body soak in essence of murtlap every week in the infirmary bathroom until the holiday break. At that time, we shall re-evaluate.
Roommates: Vincent Crabbe and Blaise Zabini.
Blood status: 1st generation pureblood (as per the new rules; half-blood via the old rules)
Magic levels: Powerful
Last owl received from:
Ongoing impressions: 'Unlike MISTER Granger, I enjoy being surprised by this child. As for Mr. Higgs, although he has not recovered yet, he has also not worsened either. And as a result, I have convinced Harry that he doesn't have to spend every waking moment next to his housemate's bed.'
Snape: [Back in his quarters]. Hello Harry. [He smiles and pats the cushion next to him].
Harry: [He bounces in and clambers up onto the sofa beside Snape]. I didn't say nothin' to nobody about what you asked on Monday! I kept it to myselfs just like you asked! Did I do goods?
Snape: You did very well. [He puts an arm around Harry's shoulders]. And Professors Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick informed me that you made them very proud this week as well.
Harry: [Abruptly wide eyed]. Me? Prouds? Of me?
Snape: You showed the Ministry that you are quite capable of learning magic.
Harry: [He leans into Snape's side comfortably]. 'Cause I'm not stupids, right?
Snape: Right. [He squeezed Harry's shoulder gently]. I wouldn't ask just anyone to be my son.
Harry: [He suddenly blushes and ducks his head].
Snape: What's wrong? [There is a faint smile on his face].
Harry: Cans—Cans you say that again? That thing thats I might gets to be? P'ease?
Snape: My son? [He asks in a near whisper].
Harry: [He suddenly bursts into giggles]. Say again, please! [He nearly squeals, flapping his fingers back and forth].
Snape: Harry Harry, my son, my son. My boy. [His smile has broadened in reaction to Harry's pure glee].
Harry: [He buries his head in Snape's side, still half-giggling, half-crying]. And I'd be belonging to yous, right right right? [Green eyes peer up at Snape].
Snape: I'd take care of you Harry, until the end of time if necessary.
Harry: [He wiggles up into Snape's lap and patting his own chest, he starts chanting]. Son son son! [Placing his hands on Snape's chest, he whispers]. 'Fessor, 'fessor, 'fessor.
Snape: [He shakes his head]. Father. [He corrects softly].
Harry: [He shakes his head]. Dad? [He whispers, looking wide eyed].
Snape: Papa? [Abruptly he laughs].
Side note: 'I'm feeling rather strange and there's a strange glow emanating between our bodies.'
Harry: I like papa. [He puts his hands over his mouth to try to suppress his giggles].
Side note: 'The glow increased in intensity until Harry said that he liked papa, and then suddenly it disappeared, leaving me with a very contented and sated sensation. Judging from Harry's next reaction, he felt much the same.'
Harry: [Suddenly yawning, he drapes his arms around Snape's neck and snuggles against him]. Papa, papa, papapapapapa . . . [He continues murmuring until he is asleep, breathing softly and utterly relaxed].
End notes: 'I believe something just happened, and if I were to take a wild stab of a guess, I would say that our magic accepted one another. I must do some research on this, but first I may need to take a small nap.'