The next morning, the Great Hall of Hogwarts resonated with the normal hum of conversation and clinking tableware. Golden shafts of sunlight poured through the towering windows, casting a celestial glow on the tables laden with a sumptuous breakfast. Most of the students were already seated, chatting animatedly about the recent events and speculations.
Suddenly, the large doors of the Great Hall swung open to unveil a haggard Dolores Umbridge. Hair awry, with dark bags under her eyes, her clothes looked as if she had been through a tornado. Her entrance was frenzied, eyes darting maliciously across the room.
"Which one of you is behind all this?!" she bellowed, veins pulsing in her neck. "Who is casting all these dreadful spells on me?"
The students exchanged puzzled glances; their confusion palpable. Some struggled to suppress their amusement, especially Fred and George Weasley, who were not too covert with their chuckles.
The commotion in the hall swelled just as the doors opened again to reveal Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge in a subdued quarrel, their voices a low murmur against the backdrop of chaos. The two seemed wrapped in a heated yet silent debate, their heads bowed together as if sharing grave secrets. Just as Fudge opened his mouth, perhaps to make a point, Umbridge's strident voice cut through the tense atmosphere.
"Cornelius! This is insufferable!" Umbridge's outburst drew their attention away from the argument. She hurried towards the Minister, her annoyance palpable. "The students are out of control and sinister!" she continued, casting a disdainful look over her shoulder at the rebellious crowd. "It's as if the very walls of Hogwarts are rebelling against me!" Her exclamation seemed to hang in the air, a dramatic punctuation to the dispute that had been momentarily shelved.
Trying to remain composed, but he exchanged a look with the Headmaster Fudge responded, "Dolores, I'm not sure what you're implying, but—"
Yet Umbridge, her face contorting with every accusation, seemed to have no patience for his reminders or his presence. "They've hexed me! Spells, jinxes, all night! And that boy—Harry Potter—he's the mastermind!" she exclaimed, cutting him off, her finger jabbing through the air as if to physically impale the truth with her belief.
However, Fudge, often easily swayed, was not entirely oblivious. He took a moment to gauge the general atmosphere, sensing the bewilderment shared by both students and staff. Attempting to pacify the situation, he suggested, "Dolores, let's not forget that Harry Potter has been conspicuously absent these past few days, something you yourself brought to my attention, maybe we should discuss this in a more private setting?"
But Dolores was beyond reasoning. Her paranoia peaked as she accused, "You too, Cornelius! You're in on this conspiracy against me!" she shrieked, aghast at the perceived betrayal, her eyes darting from Fudge to the faces of those around her, seeing enemies in every shadow. The room was thick with tension, every breath a prelude to the next act of an ever-escalating drama.
With an unexpected quickness that belied her appearance, Umbridge produced her wand, pointing it directly at Fudge. The shimmering green tip gleamed ominously, reflecting the Hall's chandeliers, casting eerie shadows on her twisted face. Murmurs spread like wildfire among the students. Breakfasts were forgotten, the clinking of cutlery silenced.
Albus calmly moved in front of Fudge, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Umbridge's crazed gaze. "Dolores," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "this is not the way. Whatever has transpired can be discussed without resorting to such measures."
But Umbridge's pupils dilated with rage, her entire body quaking. Her focus remained unbroken from Fudge, her thoughts broadcasting a litany of imagined slights and betrayals. The Great Hall's warm atmosphere turned icy with tension.
"Dolores," Albus's voice softened, like a concerned parent addressing an errant child, "release your wand. Let us help you."
But as Albus's words washed over her, it seemed to only fan the flames of her fury. A dark murmur started at the back of her throat, her wand hand trembling as she began to conjure one of the most feared and Unforgivable Curses.
Just as the first syllable of the curse started to form on her lips, a shadow darted from one of the long benches. Fred Weasley, with the stealth and grace of a lion, lunged from behind, grabbing Umbridge's wand arm and twisting it upward. A bright jet of green light shot towards the enchanted ceiling, dissipating harmlessly amongst the simulated clouds.
Fred wrestled the wand from her grasp, his fingers white-knuckled around the slender piece of wood. But Umbridge's derangement was so profound that even without her wand, she lashed out, her sharp nails aiming for Fred's eyes.
In that split-second, Albus's wand was out. With a swift, fluid movement, he murmured an incantation, and ropes of silvery light wrapped around Umbridge, freezing her in place. Her wild eyes darted around, lips quivering in impotent rage.
Fred, panting heavily from the sudden altercation, handed the captured wand to Albus, who examined it briefly before tucking it safely inside his robes.
The hall remained silent, the tension palpable. Only the soft ticking of the grand clock at the end of the room echoed. Albus, with a heavy sigh, signaled for Professor McGonagall. Together, they began to escort the immobilized Umbridge out of the hall.
"Cornelius," Albus spoke quietly to the shaken Minister, his voice tinged with both concern and urgency, "I believe it's imperative we address this matter immediately."
Fudge nodded slowly, his usual pompous demeanor replaced with a mix of confusion and fear. "Yes, Albus," he whispered, "I believe you're right."
As Fudge began to shuffle out of the Great Hall, hesitant steps betraying his deep unease, murmurs rippled through the crowd, cascading like a wave from one end of the Hall to the other. Questions abounded, whispered amongst tight-knit groups of students and staff alike, trying to piece together the perplexing puzzle before them. Was Umbridge truly mad? Had someone really hexed her, or was it merely the fabrication of a mind unhinged?
Before departing, Albus turned back to address the hall, his voice, deep and resonant, captured everyone's attention. "Given the events of this morning," he began, "it would be prudent for all students to return to their respective common rooms. For today, classes will be canceled."
There was a pause, and then Albus's eyes shifted to the Gryffindor table, landing on Fred Weasley, who sat somewhat disheveled from his recent altercation, but with a prideful glint in his eyes. "And before you all go," Albus continued, "Let it be recognized that Mr. Fred Weasley has displayed remarkable bravery and clear thinking in a highly perilous situation. For his actions, I award Gryffindor 100 points."
No sooner had the words left Albus's mouth than he turned on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he made his exit from the Great Hall. The students, momentarily hushed by the gravity of the Headmaster's departure, soon erupted into a cacophony of hushed tones and curious whispers. The Gryffindor table buzzed with a mixture of pride and disbelief, while the other houses exchanged speculative glances. Amidst the murmurs, the prefects began to rally their houses. Their voices, firm and more composed than their racing hearts, called out for order and movement toward the dormitories.
Down in the dungeons, the air was thick with tension. The cold stone walls seemed to absorb the emotions of the room. Severus sat opposite Harry, his usual inscrutable expression giving little away. However, before he could delve into the situation at hand, a silvery otter Patronus burst into the room. It was Filius Flitwick's. "Severus," the Patronus relayed in Flitwick's distinctive, high-pitched voice, "a staff meeting has been convened in one hour. Ensure you are present. The twig has snapped."
Snape nodded, acknowledging the message even though the Patronus couldn't truly respond. As it dissolved into wisps of silver mist, Harry's emerald eyes, which had momentarily widened in surprise, settled on Snape, full of questions.
"Professor Umbridge appears to be... dealt with," Snape remarked, his voice dripping with a hint of satisfaction.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, fingers twitching beneath the table. "Does that mean I can return to my dormitory?" His voice was subdued, hinting at a sadness that Severus caught but chose to ignore momentarily.
"Not yet," Snape said, peering down at Harry's hands, which where slightly shaking. "We need to address this first."
Harry's hands seemed distant to him, as if they were objects that didn't belong to him, while his thoughts swirled with emotions, doubts, and recollections. He was deep within the belly of the castle, in the dungeons, where the chill from the stones seeped into the room and the smell of dampness lingered.
This room, this specific location, held a peculiar safety that the main halls and corridors of Hogwarts lacked, especially considering recent events. However, the irony wasn't lost on Harry. The dungeons, Severus's domain, which he once equated with danger, had become his refuge.
He stole another glance at Severus, who sat in stillness. Severus's black eyes seemed to be miles away, yet Harry felt they perceived everything. Recalling Dobby's words, Harry was struck with an epiphany; despite their differences, Snape had been his silent guardian. The realization was overwhelming, causing a rush of gratitude mixed with confusion. Should he trust Snape entirely? Share what was happening with the seventh year Ravenclaws?
Deeply engrossed in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed Severus shifting in his seat, leaning forward slightly. "Potter," Severus's voice was low, soft with an uncharacteristic gentleness, "you seem distracted. Anything you wish to discuss?"
Harry reached for his fork, using it as a means to avoid direct eye contact, pushing food around his plate in nervous patterns. "It's nothing," he mumbled, but his quivering voice betrayed the depth of his emotions.
Severus, with a sudden, uncharacteristic move, reached over the table, placing his hand over Harry's, effectively halting his restless movements. The touch was light, but its significance was profound. It was a rare gesture of comfort, a silent plea for truth. Harry, taken aback by the warmth of Severus's touch, looked up, his eyes meeting those of the Potions Master.
The two held a gaze that felt like an eternity, a wordless conversation in itself. The dungeon's air grew heavy, as memories and unsaid confessions lingered.
With a deep sigh, Severus finally voiced the concerns that had been troubling him. "When I reviewed your scans last night, I noticed certain injuries that don't match the accounts you've given about your relatives." Snape paused, measuring the weight of his next words. "Is that what's been troubling you?"
Harry looked away, trying to hide the surge of emotions threatening to spill from his eyes. He shook his head, a futile attempt to dismiss the topic. Yet, the minuscule glimmer of fear in his eyes was not lost on Severus.
Snape sighed again, a sound filled with weariness. "Madam Pomfrey will be here shortly to tend to your hands," he said gently, the words carrying both reassurance and a promise of protection.
Severus removed his hand from Harry's, giving the boy space to process the multitude of emotions cascading through him. Harry simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment that the conversation was not finished, but paused—for now.
Harry's gaze remained fixed on his plate, his fork idly pushing the food around in a nonsensical pattern. Each word seemed to weigh heavily on his tongue as he finally raised his eyes to meet Severus's, his expression a complex tapestry of frustration, fear, and defiance.
"They seem to think it's some kind of game," Harry's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of his distress. "They shadow me, throw words like hexes, and their threats... they're creative." His last words were tinged with a dark irony, and his hand tightened around the fork until the metal felt like it would bend.
Severus's expression, once an inscrutable mask, softened at the edges, betraying a flicker of concern. "Who are 'they,' Potter?" Severus asked, his voice steady but the undercurrent of urgency was unmistakable. He watched the young wizard before him, his mind calculating the risks, the potential suspects, and the necessary countermeasures.
Harry hesitated, the weight of isolation pressing down on him. It was one thing to face adversaries head-on, another to admit that he was being haunted by shadows with no name. He took a deep breath, feeling the cold dungeon air fill his lungs. "They're seventh years... Ravenclaws," Harry's voice finally broke the heavy silence. His words seemed to hang in the air, spectral and accusing. "They always seem to be there when no one else is."
Severus narrowed his eyes, his mind whirling with implications. Ravenclaws were known for their wit and wisdom, but like any group, they were not immune to corruption. "I see," he said curtly, his gaze now a penetrating stare as if trying to sift through Harry's thoughts for more information. "Names?"
Harry put his fork down and pushed away from the table, a nonchalant shrug lifting his shoulders as if to dispel the weight of the conversation. He didn't know their names, only the silver and blue that trimmed their robes, an emblem of wisdom now tarnished by malice.
He retreated to his room, the heavy door closing with a resounding thud behind him, and Severus was left alone, staring at the dark wood as if it were a gateway to answers yet unearthed. At least part of the mystery was solved. But the task of unraveling it lay heavily before him, an intricate knot that required both patience and precision.
Severus sighed deeply and got up from his chair, standing in the solitude of the dungeons, his gaze lingering on Harry's plate of uneaten food and the untouched vial of nutrition potion resting beside it. With a resigned motion, he seized the potion and strode towards Harry's door, his knock gentle but imbued with an authority that demanded acknowledgment.
No answer came from the room, only the weighty silence that seemed to pulse with unsaid words. Severus's hand pressed against the wood, pushing the door open with a soft creak that seemed loud in the hush. Harry was there, seated on the edge of his bed, his head cradled in his hands as if to hold together a world fracturing at the edges.
Without a word, Severus approached, his footsteps muffled by the stone floor. He placed a hand, surprisingly gentle, upon Harry's back, a wordless gesture of support that seemed to fill the space between them with an unspoken understanding. In his other hand, he offered the potion, pressing it into Harry's hand with a silent insistence.
Harry, feeling the weight of Severus's gaze, reluctantly accepted the potion. The cool glass felt alien in his hands, yet the gesture, the simple act of caring, was strangely grounding. He uncorked the potion and drank it in one swift gulp, the bitter taste barely registering as he handed the empty vial back to Severus.
Severus pocketed the vial and assumed his seat beside Harry on the bed, maintaining his comforting presence with a hand on Harry's back. They sat in silence, a rare moment of peace amidst the storm of uncertainties and fears swirling around them. Harry, caught in the eye of this storm, found solace in Severus's unwavering support. It was a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken bond, a teacher willing to protect his student against unseen threats.
Finally, Harry's voice broke the silence, a quiet admission of his vulnerability. "I don't know their names," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But their presence... it's like they're always watching, waiting for a moment to strike." The fear in his voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the strength he usually displayed.
"I will get to the bottom of this," Severus promised, his voice carrying a firm resolve. "I will take care of it."
Harry looked up, meeting Severus's gaze. "Just... make sure they're not expelled," he pleaded, the vulnerability in his eyes striking a chord in Severus. "They shouldn't have their lives ruined over something they did in school."
Severus's gaze hardened for a moment as he considered Harry's request, the irony of it not lost on him. Here was Harry Potter, asking for leniency for those who tormented him, a stark contrast to the actions of his father, James Potter, whose own bullying of Severus during their school years had left deep scars. The request touched a nerve, reminding Severus of his own past, of moments when he wished for justice, or perhaps revenge, on those who had wronged him. Yet, seeing the earnest pleading in Harry's eyes, Severus found himself wrestling with the complexities of his feelings.
"Very well," Severus finally said, the words measured, betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside. "I will ensure they are not expelled," he conceded, the decision weighing heavily on him, a conscious choice to put Harry's wishes above his own instinctual desire for a harsher punishment.
The silence that followed was filled with unspoken words and shared understanding. Severus, despite his reservations, recognized the growth in Harry's character, his ability to see beyond his own suffering and consider the future of others, even those who had wronged him. It was a quality Severus rarely encountered, and it forced him to confront his own lingering resentments.
Switching the subject, perhaps to offer a semblance of normalcy in the midst of chaos, Severus inquired, "Would you like something more to eat this morning? Your food is still on the table."
Harry shook his head, the turmoil of his thoughts leaving little room for appetite. The offer, however, wasn't lost on him. It was another thread in the fabric of their evolving relationship, one that had shifted from adversarial to something more complex, more protective.
Severus's hand slowly retreated from Harry's back, a gesture that marked the end of their immediate conversation but not their connection. As he stood, the room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and newfound understandings.
"I must attend a staff meeting now," Severus said, his voice firm yet carrying an undercurrent of reluctance to leave Harry in such a state. "Madam Pomfrey will be here shortly to tend to your hands. Please, stay a while after she's done."
Harry nodded, his mind still processing the depth of their exchange. Before Severus could turn towards the door, he paused, as if wrestling with a decision. Finally, he faced Harry again, a rare indecision visible in his usually impassive gaze.
"This room... it will always be available to you," Severus declared, the significance of his words hanging heavily between them. "Should you find yourself in need of a refuge, you can stay here as long as you wish." The offer was unexpected, a bridge extended in the midst of their complex history.
To Harry's further astonishment, Severus divulged the password to his private quarters. "The password is 'Draconis,'" he said, a trace of surprise at his own openness evident in his voice. This sharing of his personal sanctuary was a gesture of trust Harry had never anticipated, a sign of the shifting dynamics of their relationship.
With a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to clear away his own disbelief, Severus added, "You are not as troublesome as I had previously assumed." The words, delivered with Severus's characteristic dryness, nevertheless carried a warmth that resonated with Harry.
Severus then turned and quietly exited the room, leaving behind a silence that was filled with a newfound respect and understanding. Harry was left alone, yet the solitude felt different now, imbued with the knowledge that he had an unexpected ally in Severus Snape.
The door closed with a soft click, and Harry sat in contemplation. The offer of sanctuary, the unexpected expressions of concern, and the subtle acknowledgment of his worth from Severus were more than gestures; they were lifelines in the turbulent waters of his current existence.
Severus left the solace of his quarters, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts. As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts towards the staff lounge, the weight of his recent actions pressed heavily upon him. He had extended an offer of sanctuary to Harry Potter, of all people, and even divulged the password to his private quarters—a level of trust Severus had never afforded anyone, least of all a student, and certainly not the son of James Potter.
Why had he done it? The question echoed in his mind with each step he took. But then, as if in answer, his thoughts drifted back to the young man he had just left in the safety of his room. Harry had shown a depth of character and a capacity for understanding that Severus had rarely seen. In these last few days, Potter had reminded him more of himself at that age than of James. Severus had always longed for just one adult to show him a semblance of care or concern during his own troubled youth. This realization, though it came as a slight shock, softened something within him.
Severus paused at the door to the staff lounge, his hand resting on the knob. He allowed himself a brief moment, a sigh escaping his lips as he collected his thoughts, before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The staff room was filled with the usual hum of pre-meeting chatter. Severus made his way to his customary seat at the table, his presence causing a slight shift in the atmosphere. As he settled in, he couldn't help but notice the smirk playing on Minerva McGonagall's lips and the conspiratorial wink from Pomona Sprout. They were clearly pleased, their plan having gone off without a hitch. Filius Flitwick, however, was looking at him oddly, an expression of puzzlement—or was it concern?—etched across his face. Severus filed that away for later; he had intended to speak with Filius about the Ravenclaw students anyway.
As the staff meeting came to order, Albus's presence at the head of the table brought an immediate hush to the room. His piercing gaze swept over those gathered before he began, his voice carrying the weight of recent events with a calm gravity.
"Umbridge has been taken to St. Mungo's," Albus announced, the news sparking a ripple of reactions around the table. "Fudge was here this morning, inquiring—rather, demanding—to know of Harry Potter's whereabouts. Regrettably, or perhaps fortunately, I was unable to provide him with an answer."
There was a pause, a collective breath held as Albus's gaze landed on Minerva McGonagall. "Wherever Harry has been hiding, it is now safe for him to return to the school," he declared, a statement that seemed to carry more than a hint of underlying meaning.
Severus, sitting amidst his colleagues, managed to suppress a visible reaction, though a small smile threatened at the corners of his mouth. He thought to himself that safety was a relative term, especially considering the current circumstances. 'Safe for now,' he mused, 'but not without further precautions.' His resolve to protect Harry, to ensure the boy's safety, felt more pressing than ever.
The meeting continued, and Albus's next words carried a mix of curiosity and mild reproof. "I find myself wondering what precisely led to Umbridge's... sudden unhinging," he mused, his eyes scanning the heads of houses, each doing their best to embody innocence. The room was filled with an unspoken acknowledgment of shared complicity in Umbridge's downfall, a fact that seemed to amuse Albus to some extent, despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Whilst I appreciate the... extracurricular activities that have taken place," Albus continued, his voice lowering to a stern, warning tone, "I must insist that such endeavors do not escalate beyond what has already transpired."
The air in the room thickened with a mixture of amusement and a slight tension as the staff absorbed Albus's words. Minerva let out a small, almost imperceptible snort, unable to completely mask her amusement at the situation. Severus allowed himself a brief, smug smirk, appreciating the subtlety of the headmaster's reprimand. Albus cast a stern look around the room, though everyone present knew there was no real heat behind it. His eyes twinkled with an unspoken understanding of the necessity of their actions against Umbridge.
With the matter of Umbridge addressed, Albus smoothly transitioned the meeting. "Let us move on," he suggested, his voice returning to its usual calm demeanor. "Does anyone have any news or concerns they wish to share with the group?"
Severus sighed, recognizing this as the opportune moment to bring up the issue that had been weighing on him. "There's a matter involving several seventh-year Ravenclaw students who have been... targeting Harry Potter," he began, his voice carrying a mix of reluctance and resolve. The room's attention shifted to him, a collective interest piqued by his words.
Albus's curiosity was evident as he leaned forward slightly. "And how did you come by this information, Severus?" he inquired, his gaze sharp.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Severus admitted, "Potter himself informed me, and there is medical evidence to support his claims." He chose his words carefully, keenly aware of the implications of his involvement.
Raising an eyebrow, Albus then asked, "Do you happen to know where Mr. Potter has been these past few days?" It was clear to Severus that Albus had his suspicions, likely enjoying the slight discomfort his questions caused.
Before Severus could formulate a response, Minerva intervened, perhaps sensing Severus's unease. "Harry will be returning to classes tomorrow," she stated firmly, effectively redirecting the conversation away from Severus's recent personal involvement with Harry. "I am quite concerned though about these students ganging up on another student. Do we have names?"
Severus, grateful for the shift away from Albus's probing and Minerva's timely intervention, replied, "I don't know who they are," Severus admitted with a thoughtful look towards Filius. "Potter only knows that they're seventh years. He expressly wished for them not to be expelled, which, while I may not agree, are his wishes. Foolish perhaps, but noble in a way."
Filius, seizing the moment, added his insight with a concerned tone. "I might have an idea about who these students are. This morning, I caught a group of seventh years harassing a second-year Ravenclaw. They mentioned their usual target was absent, so they decided to... 'redirect' their attentions."
Severus frowned deeply at this confirmation, his concern for Harry's well-being mingled with frustration at the behavior of the students in question. Minerva, echoing the sentiment, declared, "This is completely unacceptable."
Albus, with a nod of agreement, directed his attention to Filius. "Please, send those students to my office after lunch. It seems we have much to discuss." His tone, though gentle, carried an underlying firmness that left no room for doubt about his intentions.
The conversation then took another turn as Pomona, shifted the focus to a pressing concern on everyone's minds since Umbridge's departure. "Who will take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" she inquired, voicing a question that lingered in the air.
To the surprise of many, Severus spoke up, his voice cutting through the lingering discussions. "I suggest we consider Remus Lupin for the position," he said, his suggestion hanging in the room like a delicate thread. Minerva's eyebrow arched in surprise, mirroring the collective astonishment of the staff. Severus, acknowledging the weight of his proposal, added, "Remus has proven himself to be one of the most effective Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers we've had in years. His expertise and approach to teaching could greatly benefit our students."
Pomera, unable to hide a smile, sensed the layers within Severus's suggestion. It wasn't just about filling the position; it was about Harry, about providing him with a familiar, comforting presence in what had become an increasingly hostile environment. The room was quiet for a moment as the staff considered Severus's unexpected endorsement.
Albus, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and contemplation, finally broke the silence. "An intriguing suggestion, Severus. Remus does indeed have a unique approach to the subject, and his rapport with the students is undeniable." Albus paused, his gaze settling on Severus for a moment longer than necessary, as if acknowledging the unspoken intentions behind his proposal.
Minerva, clearing her throat, shifted the conversation towards practical considerations. "While Remus's past tenure was indeed successful, we must also consider his... condition," she said delicately, referring to Lupin's lycanthropy. "It's no secret, and while we've managed before, it's a factor that cannot be ignored. Also, would the Ministry interfere again?"
Albus leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he contemplated Minerva's concerns. "After the debacle with Umbridge, it's highly unlikely the Ministry will attempt to interfere in Hogwarts' affairs in the near future," he mused thoughtfully. "The backlash from the parents and the wizarding community has been... substantial. While some parents may harbor reservations, if Severus," here he nodded towards Snape, "agrees to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus every month, that should allay most concerns."
There was a moment of silence as the gravity of Dumbledore's statement settled over the room. Severus's expression was unreadable, but after a brief pause, he gave a slight nod. "I will brew the potion," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of resignation mixed with an unspoken understanding of the necessity of the arrangement.
Nods and murmurs of agreement rippled around the room, and with a final nod, Albus put the matter to rest. "Very well, I will extend the offer to Remus. Let us hope he accepts, for the benefit of our students and the school."
The meeting moved towards its conclusion, and Albus's voice softened. "If there are no other matters, I believe we can adjourn." The room remained silent, signaling the end of the agenda. "Thank you, everyone. You are dismissed," Albus declared, his tone warm yet carrying the authority of his position.
As the room began to clear, Albus held back Severus and Minerva with a gentle gesture. Once the last of the staff had exited and the door had closed behind them, Albus's demeanor shifted to one of concern. "Before you go, I wish to inquire about Harry," he said, his gaze fixed on Minerva. "How is he faring, especially after... recent events?"
Severus cleared his throat, a gesture that prefaced the delivery of significant news. "Despite Potter's continued... annoyance, it appears he is on the right path towards healing," Severus began, his tone carrying a begrudging respect. "However, he will require proper accommodations for the summer. Accommodations that are decidedly not with his relatives."
At this, Albus's eyebrow arched inquisitively as he turned his full attention to Severus. The implication behind Severus's words was clear, yet Albus sought confirmation. "Is Harry staying with you, then?" he asked, a flicker of surprise and curiosity lighting up his eyes.
Severus responded with a slow nod, his usual stoic facade betraying a hint of the monumental shift such an arrangement would represent. Albus's expression transformed from curiosity to a beaming approval, yet he caught onto the deeper implications of Severus's statement.
"What exactly are you suggesting, Severus? Are you alluding to Harry not returning to his relatives?" Albus probed further, his tone serious, recognizing the gravity of Severus's implication.
Severus nodded again, this time with a sigh. "Indeed. They are... less than suitable guardians for him," he stated flatly, avoiding specifics but making his disapproval clear.
Minerva, ever protective of Harry, quickly interjected. "I would strongly oppose any suggestion of returning Harry to that household," she declared, her tone fierce and determined.
Albus remained silent for a moment, absorbing the information and the weight of the decision before them. It was a silence filled with contemplation, broken only when Severus added, "If no other suitable arrangements can be made for the summer, then as a last resort, he could stay with me in the dungeons." This admission caused both Albus and Minerva to look at Severus in surprise, a testament to the severity of the situation and the unexpected depth of Severus's concern for Harry's well-being.
Albus smiled gently at Severus, his eyes softening with a mixture of appreciation and surprise. "It's very kind of you, Severus, to offer your summer to Harry," he said, his voice laced with genuine warmth.
He then turned the conversation towards the heart of the matter. "What has led you both to feel so strongly about Harry not returning to his relatives?" Albus asked, his curiosity evident. It was clear that there was more to the situation than what had been shared.
Minerva was the one who spoke up, her voice steady yet cautious. "We cannot disclose the details of what Harry has revealed to us. And to be honest, not even I am privy to all of them," she admitted, reinforcing the sensitivity surrounding the issue.
Albus's gaze shifted back to Severus, probing further. "It must be something quite serious for you to offer your summer peace," he noted, the significance of Severus's gesture not lost on him.
Severus looked away, a deliberate move to guard the confidentiality of his conversations with Harry. "Madam Pomfrey is attending to his hands as we speak," he said, deflecting, yet hinting at the physical evidence of Harry's recent ordeals.
Albus nodded sadly, acknowledging the information. "Poppy did speak with me about Harry's hands," he confirmed, his expression turning somber at the thought of Harry's suffering. "I will look at other arrangements for Harry."
"Please convey to Harry that he's welcome to come speak with me anytime," Albus added, his tone soft.
Severus nodded softly, knowing Harry would never open up to the Headmaster. "Well, if there's nothing more, I shall return to the dungeons. The cobwebs and I have a longstanding engagement to discuss the nuances of neglect," he quipped, his tone dry.
Minerva, couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head in amused resignation. Albus, for his part, allowed a brief, knowing smile to grace his features, understanding all too well Severus's need to cloak his deeper concerns with a veneer of indifference. "Thank you, Severus, Minerva," Albus said, his voice warm yet tinged with the gravity of their conversation. "Your dedication is, as always, deeply appreciated."
With a final nod, Severus turned and made his way out of the room, leaving behind the warmth of staff room for the cool shadows of the castle's lower levels. As he descended the staircases, his mind replayed the meeting's discussions, but it was the quiet resolve in his own heart that marked his steady pace. The decision to offer sanctuary to Harry was no small matter, yet it was one he made with a clear understanding of the stakes involved.
Severus arrived at his chambers just as Madam Pomfrey was stepping out. He glanced around the hallway, ensuring privacy, before addressing her. "How is Potter?" he asked, his voice low, betraying a hint of concern he rarely allowed others to witness.
Madam Pomfrey, with a warmth in her smile that softened her usual professional demeanor, responded, "Harry's taken well to the treatment. His hands are much improved, though he will need a few more sessions to completely rid him of the tremors." She paused, her smile turning sly, "And Severus, I must say, I'm quite proud of you for extending him the offer to visit whenever he wishes. It's a generous gesture."
Severus scoffed, a reflexive defense against the implied sentimentality. "I merely extended the offer to keep Potter out of further trouble," he retorted, looking away to hide a brief, uncharacteristic smile. "If he's under my eye, perhaps he'll manage to stay out of mischief."
Madam Pomfrey chuckled softly, recognizing the rare admission for what it was—a grudging display of care. "Well, regardless of your reasons, it's a good thing you're doing. Harry will benefit from it, no doubt."
Severus's reply was a noncommittal grunt as he watched her turn to leave. Once alone, he entered his chambers, the door closing with a quiet click behind him.
Severus, his footsteps muffled against the stone floor, approached Harry's door with a soft rap on the frame, not wanting to startle the young wizard who seemed lost in his own thoughts. Harry glanced up, his green eyes meeting Severus's dark gaze as the Potions Master delivered his invitation. "You're welcome to join your friends in your common room for lunch if you wish," Severus offered, his tone surprisingly gentle.
A beam of joy spread across Harry's face at the mention of his friends Ron and Hermione. He had missed his frineds these last few days, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that they must be fraught with concern for his well-being.
Eagerly, Harry rose from his seat, smoothing out the wrinkles on his bed with a swift motion before slinging his bag over his shoulder. The prospect of reuniting with his companions quickened his steps, anticipation bubbling within him like a simmering potion. Yet, as he neared the threshold, a sudden thought gave him pause.
Turning back to Severus, Harry's voice wavered slightly as he posed a timid question, "Can I... come back for dinner?" It was a simple request, but behind it lay a deeper yearning for connection and belonging.
Severus, ever perceptive, nodded in acquiescence, producing a vial of potion from the folds of his robes and passing it to Harry with a wry smile. "I will know if you don't take this," he remarked, the underlying concern in his tone softened by a hint of affection. Harry accepted the potion with a grateful nod, acknowledging the unspoken understanding that had grown between them.
With determination in his step, Harry made his way towards the door, pausing momentarily as he reached the threshold. His gaze lingered on Severus, a silent expression of gratitude and newfound respect passing between them. "Thanks for everything, Sir," Harry said earnestly, his words carrying a weight of appreciation for the unexpected kindness he had received.
Chapter 5
The End.