The Unexpected Snape by missyanne, Luck

Harry was very nervous about the flying lesson. He had seen images of witches flying on broomsticks at his old primary around Halloween. Sometimes he would dream he could fly too, but he never believed that flying on broomsticks was real. But now that he saw with his own eyes that it was real, flying around on broomsticks didn't seem either safe or comfortable.

The fact that the lesson was with the Slytherins certainly didn't help calm Harry's nerves. The last thing he needed was for Draco Malfoy to see him make a complete wally of himself trying to fly on a broomstick.

Then there was this game played on broomsticks called "Quidditch"—everyone who came from a wizard family seemed to talk about it. Malfoy talked constantly about flying, crowing about how he narrowly escaped Muggles in helicopters and small planes. Harry was pretty sure he was lying…but what if he wasn't? Even Ron boasted to anyone who would listen that he nearly hit a Muggle hang glider with his brother Charlie's old broom.

And then there was Neville. He came from a wizard family too but had never been on a broomstick in his life. His grandmother never allowed him to fly. Harry thought that was probably a good idea because Neville seemed too clumsy just walking from one room to the next.

Surprisingly Hermione, who never seemed to fail at anything, was just as nervous as Neville and Harry. She had spent nearly all morning reciting flying tips from a book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Watching Neville hanging on her every word only made Harry's collywobbles even worse.

Too soon after lunch, all the first year Gryffindors made their way outside to the area where the lessons were going to be. Harry fervently wished they had their lesson before lunch. If he sicked-up on his broom he'd never be able to show his face at Hogwarts again. Malfoy would certainly never let him live it down.

Harry and Ron marched down a long slopping hill, along with his fellow first-year Gryffindors, until they reached a flat, grassy lawn. The Forbidden Forest was just beyond. The Slytherins were already on the lawn, along with a long line of manky school broomsticks positioned neatly on the grass. Harry had heard the school brooms were shoddy at the best of times and they certainly looked it.

Malfoy was still boasting about how he had been flying since the age of six. The way he was talking of his flying prowess, one would think he was already on his house Quidditch team.

Harry, or any of the other Gryffindors for that matter, didn't have to tell Malfoy to shut it, because everyone became suddenly quiet as a stern-looking, grey-haired witch approached.

She abruptly blew a whistle and everyone instinctively clamoured next to a broom, Gryffindors in one line and Slytherins in another.

Harry thought she imitated a drill instructor in some of the old war movies Uncle Vernon used to watch "I'm Madam Hooch, and today is your first flying lesson. Everyone step to the left of your broom."

After everyone had maneuvered to the proper sides of their brooms, she continued, "Now, place your right hand over your broom and with a firm and determined voice, say 'up'!"

Harry looked about as he heard over a dozen voices, some more piercing than others, bark "up". A few brooms seemed to vibrate. Harry smirked inwardly when he noticed that Malfoy's broom hadn't jumped into his hand yet and Madam Hooch told him his technique was all wrong. Neville and Hermione seemed to have the most difficulty controlling their brooms. Harry wondered if Hermione's face was red because she was over concentrating or overly embarrassed that she was failing at magic for the first time.

Harry felt a little more confident when he noticed that the rest of the class continued to struggle and he wouldn't make a fool of himself. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to steel his nerves. He breathed deeply again put his right hand over his broom, and with determination said, "Up!"

His broom flew into his hand so quickly and with such force, that it nearly knocked him backwards. Harry grinned widely, but not because he was being gapped at with amazement and envy by his classmates. Harry had just discovered another link to his parents. He was going to be a great flyer, just like his dad.

After another eternally long five minutes of voices shrilly calling, "up", everyone, including Neville finally had their brooms in hand.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle again. "Good! Now, swing your right leg over the broomstick and straddle your broom."

Everyone complied. But before Madam Hooch could bark out her next instruction, Neville began to shakily take off for the sky. Harry figured that in his nervousness, Neville must have pushed off before Madam Hooch gave the order.

The teacher shouted for Neville to come back, but he had already shot up at least twenty feet in the air. Then Neville made the mistake of looking down. Neville's face paled and he slipped sideways off the broom and landed with a nasty crack face down in the grass.

Madam Hooch raced over to help him, with both Gryffindors and Slytherins hot on her heals. Poor Neville was conscious, but his face was ashen and his wrist was bent at an unnatural angle.

"Tut, tut," she said softly as she gingerly looked over Neville's wrist. "You have a nasty break, dear. We'll get Madam Pomfrey to take care of it straight away."

Neville just wined softly, but Harry wouldn't have blamed his classmate if he cried like a baby. Harry noticed a bone protruding through Neville's still intact skin. It was enough to make Harry's skin crawl and he was sure some of his classmates were ready to sick-up.

Madam Hooch carefully helped Neville from the ground. Before she led him from the lawn, she sharply turned to the rest of the class. "Not one of you had better set a single toe off the ground while I'm gone. Leave your brooms on the ground or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'" She turned to Neville and said kindly, "Come along, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked and pale, hobbled back to the castle with her.

Malfoy scarcely waited until they were out of earshot before he burst into laughter and the other Slytherins quickly joined in like the little sycophants Harry suspected they were. Suddenly Malfoy darted forward and snatched something off the ground, "Look! It's Longbottom's stupid Rememberall. He should have used it to remember to fall on his fat arse."

Harry recalled Neville showing it to him that morning at breakfast. His grandmother had sent him the gift just that morning in the owl post. Something twisted in Harry's gut at seeing Malfoy being a hateful bully. Harry, who had been bullied his entire life, wouldn't stand for it.

"Give that to me, Malfoy," Harry said quietly, his low, smooth tone belying his righteous anger.

Malfoy snatched up his broom and smiled nastily.

"Give it here!" Harry repeated as Malfoy leapt onto his broom and took off.

It was true; Malfoy could fly well. "Why don't you come and get it, Potter?" Malfoy mocked from ten feet in the air.

Harry bent over and grabbed his broom. As he threw one leg over it, Hermione grabbed him by the robe and yelped, "No! You'll get into trouble. You don't even know how to fly yet!"

Harry shrugged her away and kicked off the ground as hard as he could. Even at his fast speed, he soared up into the air with amazing ease. There was a sudden burst of happiness inside him when he had discovered that, for once, he was naturally good at something. Flying was easy and more wonderful than he could have imagined.

Harry grinned as he heard an admiring whoop from Ron and his fellow Gryffindors.

Although Malfoy sneered, there was an unmistakable look of worry on his face. Just as Harry levelled his broom even with Malfoy's, the Slytherin jeered, "If you want it so badly, you can go find it—on the roof!" Malfoy threw the tiny ball as hard as he could towards the castle, and then streaked back to the ground.

Instinctively, Harry knew what to do, and before his mind could form a coherent thought, he leaned forward and shot off after the Rememberall like a rocket. He quickly veered into a steep dive as gravity caught his target and the ball began to arc back towards the ground. Harry hadn't noticed how close to the castle he was, but he caught the Rememberall in mid-air just before it smashed against the stone wall. Harry swung around faster than he could blink and with Neville's Rememberall clutched firmly in his fist, he steered his broom back towards the ground.

Harry approached to the cheers of the Gryffindor's and the jeers of the Slytherin's. As he jumped off his broom and into the soft grass, his classmates came running towards him to give him a hero's welcome, Harry had never felt so triumphant in his life.

However, his triumph was short lived.

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry's elated moment took a sudden nose-dive as he turned and saw Professor McGonagall running across the grounds toward him. Suddenly, Harry found himself trembling. This did not look good—at all!

"Never- in all these years…," his head of house sputtered in shock. "You could very well've broken your fool neck! Why in Merlin's name would you do something so…so reckless?"

His housemates quickly came to his defence, speaking all at once as they tried to explain about Malfoy and the Rememberall.

"Enough!" Professor McGonagall silenced them all with a wave of her hand. "Mr Potter, come with me. Now!"

McGonagall's tone allowed for no protest as Harry numbly followed along behind her, trying and failing, to keep up with her long strides. He wanted to defend himself, but he couldn't form a single word, much less a coherent sentence. He tried to ignore the sting forming behind his eyes as he realized the enormity of the situation. He was about to be expelled from Hogwarts. He could only imagine what the Dursleys would say when he appeared back on their doorstep.

Professor McGonagall led him into the castle, through hallways and corridors that Harry only vaguely registered due to the fact he was fighting to hold back the threatening tears that burned in the corners of his eyes. They stopped suddenly in front of a huge statue of a griffin.

"Sherbert Lemon," Professor McGonagall said nonsensically, seemingly to the statue. To Harry's astonishment, the Griffin moved.

With a nudge of her head, McGonagall silently indicated to Harry to go up the spiral staircase hidden behind the statue. Harry stepped on the first stair and reached to the wall for support as the stone staircase suddenly began to spiral upwards like a Muggle escalator. Professor McGonagall took the step two levels below his and followed him up in grim silence.

When the staircase finally reached its destination, Harry noticed a wooden knocker in the shape of a griffin on a large oaken door. His stomach lurched unpleasantly. Harry realized where he was being taken; this was Headmaster Dumbledore's office.

From over his shoulder, Professor McGonagall smartly rapped on the door twice. The door slowly opened, seemingly of its own will, and they stepped in the room. Harry had never felt so small and petulant.

Once he mustered up the courage to lift his head up high enough to look beyond his fringe, he noticed a large, beautifully decorated, circular room. A number of odd and wonderful silver instruments whirred and emitted little puffs of smoke as they stood on small spindly-legged tables. The walls were covered with old portraits of men and women that Harry assumed were previous headmasters and headmistresses. Some looked upon him with interest. Some were distractingly scratching their noses or heads, but most were snoozing in their frames. Harry guessed there must have been at least a hundred of them.

Sitting on a tall perch was the most exotic and beautiful bird had ever seen looking curiously down at him. It was as large as a turkey and had long feathers as red as flame. Harry felt an overwhelming urge to touch it, but his trance was broken by McGonagall's excited voice.

"Albus, I have found a new Seeker for Gryffindor."

Harry had been too preoccupied notice Dumbledore sitting behind his ornate claw-footed desk, gazing down at him over his half-moon glasses.

"Is that right?" Dumbledore asked neutrally as he leaned back in his chair.

"He is a natural," Professor McGonagall said crisply, "I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broom, Potter?"

Harry looked back and forth between his headmaster and head of house in confusion. Certainly he was here in the headmaster's office to be expelled. But by the sound of the excitement in Professor McGonagall's voice, Harry wasn't in trouble at all.

Not sure what to think or do, Harry simply nodded silently.

"Albus, I'm sure you can manage to bend the rule about first years being on the team," Professor McGonagall nearly pleaded. "Heaven knows we could use a good Seeker this year. Slytherin flattened us last term. For weeks, I couldn't look at Severus Snape without him smirking at me. It was practically indecent!"

Harry wondered if he heard the headmaster snort with amusement, but then decided it must have been his imagination. Dumbledore merely smiled amiably as he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the top of his desk and steepling his fingers together. "I'm certain that can be arranged. However, young Harry here will need permission of a parent or guardian to play on the team. I will leave obtaining permission to you, Minerva."

For moment, Professor McGonagall looked perplexed then her lips thinned seemed to all but disappear. "Very well, Albus."

Harry wanted to tell her not to bother. The Dursleys wouldn't care either way if he were to be able to fly on broom, but would probably deny him permission simply because it was something Harry wanted so desperately to do. Harry decided to keep his mouth shut. He didn't want to take a chance that they might expel him after all if he couldn't play.

Professor McGonagall peered over her glasses at Harry. "I want to hear that you are training hard, Mr Potter, or I may change my mind about allowing you on the team."

Then she smiled at Harry for the first time. "Your father was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

She waved him out of the office, but before Harry shut the door all the way, he heard Professor McGonagall speak to the Headmaster again. "I'll send an owl to Harry's aunt straight away."

"There's no need," Dumbledore replied. "Harry has a blood relative that can give him permission here at the school."

Before he could hear the rest of the conversation, the door clicked and closed softly in his face. Harry was left alone to stand in silent wonder at who his mysterious relative might be. Maybe Jordan was right. Was he related to Professor Snape after all?

Severus strode purposefully through the stone hallway toward the hospital wing practically dragging along one of his second-year Slytherin girls in his wake as she hacked and coughed whilst trying to keep up with his pace. The idiot girl had been foolish enough to not pay proper attention to what she was doing and substituted castor beans for puffer fish eyes. Mercifully, she had only dropped one into her cauldron before Severus had caught what could have been a fatal mistake. Severus managed to evacuate his classroom, but not before Ms Selwyn received the brunt of the fumes. Had she added more beans or the formulation had been off, Ms Selwyn would have had more worries than a nagging cough.

Severus had already sent word to Poppy that he was en route through one of the school portraits and the matron was waiting for their arrival.

"Put her here, Severus," Poppy said as she, emerged from behind one privacy screen and indicated to another. "I have students falling from the sky today."

Apparently, Poppy meant that literally for Severus could just make out the sandy-blond hair of the Longbottom boy behind the screen with Rolanda Hooch by his side.

Severus deposited the girl. "For once, listen to an adult's instruction, Ms Selwyn, and do what Madam Pomfrey tells you to do."

"Sorry—*cough* Professor. I don't know how—*cough* I made that mistake."

"Next time, keep your attention focused on your assignment rather than Mr Burke."

Madam Pomfrey shooed Severus away and closed the privacy curtain behind her. He knew Ms Selwyn's recovery would not take long, so he idled his time looking out the window. Once Poppy was through, there were punishments to discuss.

Off in the distance, Severus noticed Rolanda's first-years gathered and waiting for their flying lesson to commence. Today it was Slytherins and Gryffindors. Severus tried to discern Harry's black mane from the other students, knowing the boy was somewhere amongst them.

Severus finally spotted him. It was hard to know for certain from such a distance, but if Severus were a betting man, he would say Harry and Mr Malfoy were having words.

"Rolanda-you need to see to your class," Severus advised. Hooch gave no indication of hearing him.

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey called as she bustled across the floor. "Ms Selwyn will be ready to go in…"

Severus held up his hand, too distracted by the tableau outside the large window.

Poppy looked out the window to see what had caught Severus' attention. "Don't worry, Severus. Boys will be boys. I'm certain they can work things out amongst themselves if you just—Oh dear!"

Severus never heard what he should let the boys do, because Poppy had been taken off guard as much as Severus. Madam Hooch must have been looking out the window at the same time as she cried, "Oh, bugger!" and ran out of the room in a shot.

Malfoy had taken off the ground with Harry hot behind him. Severus tried to stalk out of the room behind Hooch when Poppy grabbed him by the arm. "Rolanda will see to them. It's just a bit of flying, Severus."

Severus never saw how it happened, but at that very moment Harry was flying kamikaze-style straight toward the castle.

Before he could take another breath, Severus' wand was out of his cloak and into his hand ready to take action to keep the boy from killing himself. But before he could do anything, he witnessed Harry expertly execute a sharp turn on his broom, pull out of the dive, and somehow manage to grab a small object out of the air. Severus let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

Severus dashed out of the hospital, ignoring Poppy's pleas to come back. He ran down to the training grounds and arrived at nearly the same time as Hooch, only to find that Harry had already been taken to see the headmaster. After giving Malfoy a week of detention with Filch, Severus headed straight for the headmaster's office as Madam Hooch wrestled her class back to order.

Severus couldn't figure out Minerva's game. Why punish Harry and not Draco?

As he approached the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office, Severus thought he caught site of a small figure with raven hair running down the hall. He stopped at the stone griffin, resisting the urge to follow after the boy. He watched the figure until it turned the corner and out of sight.

Severus addressed the griffin with Albus' ridiculous password and ran up the stairs rather than wait for the staircase to carry him. He reached to open the door without announcing himself, but the door opened and he stood face to face with Minerva.

"Ah, Severus, just the wizard I wanted to see."

Severus blinked. "If you were going to inquire about Mr Malfoy's actions out on the training grounds, I have already given him detention with Mr Filch," he said coolly.

"Mr Malfoy?" Minerva parroted. "What does this have to do with Mr Malfoy? I wanted to speak with you about Harry."

"Har…Mr Potter?"

Severus didn't understand as he looked from Minerva to Albus.

"Severus," Albus said. "Minerva wishes for Harry to try out for Quidditch but I informed her that she would need the permission of Harry's guardian. As the Dursley's have no interest in dealing with the magical world, and you are the boy's closest magical relative, the responsibility rests upon you."

"Wh…what did you say?" Good thing there was a chair behind Severus, or else he would have ended up in a heap upon the floor.

"Minerva, would you be so kind as to leave us?" Although Albus asked, it was obvious that it wasn't a request.

"But Albus—Severus hasn't even…"

"I promise to inform you of his decision. Now if you please…"

Minerva threw her hands up in defeat, accepting her dismissal. She turned to Severus and said, "Please, consider it, Severus. It's a great opportunity for the boy."

Severus didn't watch her leave. He didn't even realize that Albus was standing right before him until he felt a hand place a cup of tea in his.

"Drink this, Severus. You'll need it."

Severus numbly put the cup to his lips. As he sipped, he felt a gentle wave of warm relaxation move through his muscles and his heart rate began slow.

"Calming Draught?"

"I thought it prudent under the circumstances," Dumbledore confessed as he returned to his desk.

Severus nodded and put down his teacup. "I'm correct to assume that you brewed the potion."

Albus nodded as he took his seat, "Just this morning. I was going to call you into my office after super."

"And you felt compelled to tell Minerva before you told me?"

"I apologise for that. I should have waited. She only knows you're related, not how closely."

Severus got up from his chair and walked over to the window. "She suspects! Everyone suspects!" Severus exclaimed. Wishing he had held on to his tea, Severus sighed deeply in an effort to calm himself. "How close?"

"Close— Of course, normally I would tell you to use the potion to perform a final charm so to discern your exact relationship. But there is no need." Severus heard the sliding of a wooden drawer. He turned to see Dumbledore put a small phial on his desk. "As you can see, there cannot be another explanation."

Severus swallowed hard, unsure if he were awake and if his eyes were telling him the truth. But the final charm would reveal where on the family tree they were connected.

"As you cannot be so closely related through James, one can only assume…"

"There is still a possibility of a Muggle connection," Severus said, desperately looking for an out. "The Snapes and Evans'…they lived in the same community for at least two generations."

"You're in denial. Look at the phial and be honest to yourself, Severus," Albus said. "Do you believe that?"

Severus shook his head, "No…I would have been told of such a relationship by my father or Mr and Mrs Evans."

"Severus—Look at the phial."

Severus approached the headmaster's desk and took the phial in hand. He gazed at the midnight blue potion. Suddenly, he felt his gut turn as cold as ice as he realized for the first time what Albus was trying to say. Albus only wanted Severus to say it. Severus knew exactly what such a colour meant.

"Your relationship is too close for even that of an uncle or first cousin."

Severus sighed. Albus was right. Unless he and Harry were brothers, there was only one explanation for such a dark hue. He did not need the charm to tell him what he already knew.

Severus did not bother to wipe away the single traitorous tear that ran down his cheek.

"He's mine, Albus. Harry Potter is my son."