Chapter Text
“What did you two agree to block?”
“Mostly his experiences as a Death Eater and work as a spy. If Severus continues to regress, he may inadvertently let something slip. The Order’s operations would be in jeopardy.”
“He won’t remember anything?”
“He will know that he was a Death Eater, that he switched sides, but not the details beyond being our resident brewer.”
“I still think this is only slapping a bandage on the problem instead of actually treating the root cause, but hopefully it will at least lift some of that darkness from his shoulders.”
“Minerva, there is more. His memories of James Potter and his friends, as well as Lily, have also been blocked.”
“Lily? Albus, I– he agreed to let you block his memories of Lily? But his friendship with her was so important to him! He’s talked to me a little about it, and– I can’t believe he would go along with it.”
“His relationship with her and her husband were unduly influencing his treatment of Harry and his decisions regarding his mission to protect the boy. He agreed he needed to be more impartial if he wanted to still be of use.”
“I suppose… Anything else?”
“Just a few small things, nothing you need to worry about accidentally bringing up.”
“I assume you’re still of the mind to keep this a secret?”
“We both know Severus. He is like a dog with a bone at times. If he found out some of his memories were blocked, he would attempt to break down the shields regardless if it ended up harming him and then we would be right back at the beginning.”
“You should have overrode him in this, Albus. He’s not going to be able to heal.”
“It was Severus’s choice. He still wants to be of use, however limited that may be at the moment.”
Severus woke up with that heavy feeling of something lodged in his chest, some underlying sense of dread and anger and bitterness that he had long grown used to. Ridiculous. He didn’t know why he got like this sometimes. His parents had been atrocious, but it wasn’t as if he had a particularly hard life. Not even when he had worked for the Dark Lord; he had spent most of his days shut up in a laboratory, lucky him. What right did he have to feel like this? It was a little pathetic. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. A few crossed wires, or something. Maybe there was a potion out there that would fix it for him.
He spent most of the day packing. It gave him a good excuse to avoid the children. He wasn’t feeling up to playing the role of Silas McGonagall. Merlin, he’ll have to spend the summer with Minerva. Sure, they got on well enough at school, but three whole months in each other’s close proximity? The claws would come out, he was sure. Severus turned to Cat, “If you meet a Scottish tabby this summer, give her a good swipe, do you hear me?”
Cat didn’t answer. She instead leapt into his trunk and settled nicely on top of his freshly folded cloak. Cat turned to look smugly up at him. So much for packing. Severus sneered down at her, half-considering closing the lid and walking away, but then all of his things would smell like dead cat. It was too much trouble, and, anyway, it was almost time for the End-of-Year Feast. Finnegan, Thomas, and Longbottom had all left a while ago.
Granger accosted him immediately upon entering the Great Hall. “I can’t believe you never told me about the Philosopher’s Stone!” She all but shouted, gripping the sleeves of his robes. “Mind you, they didn’t want to tell me either. They almost didn’t, but after we heard about what you said about You-Know-Who–” She stopped mid-sentence, almost out of breath, and asked, “Did you see us? Harry pulled back the cloak a little. He was about to rush in and do– do something, but Ron and I held him back. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Nobody knew if you were okay, you were rushed so quickly to the infirmary! Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t let us visit, but Harry showed me his cloak. He said he could help me sneak in. Ron said he wanted to check you still had a face and everything, so we all went, and– oh! And the tests we had to get through!”
She started describing Minerva’s giant chess set, and the logic puzzle the “old Potions professor” had set up before he “died.” Severus had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing at that part. She only stopped when Harry came through the door.
There were dark circles under his eyes. So much for being a bodyguard. Well, at least the boy hadn’t managed to kill himself. Granger grabbed hold of his sleeve as well and dragged them both to the Gryffindor table, barely giving Harry a chance to wave at Weasley who was sitting across the hall with the other Slytherins, all of whom were squirming with excitement. Even if he was no longer their Head of House, he couldn’t help but feel proud. They had won the House Cup for the eighth year in a row. Truly, they were the house for the ambitious. The Great Hall was decked out in green and silver. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
Dumbledore stood up to address the waiting students.
“Another year gone!” He said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…
“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twenty-two points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin four hundred and seventy-two.”
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.
“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”
The room went very still. The Slytherins’ smiles faded a little. Severus felt his stomach drop. He sincerely hoped the Headmaster wasn’t about to take Slytherin’s victory, not like this. Not give them hope, make them think they had won, only to then pull the rug out from underneath them. It was needlessly cruel.
What do you expect? That lying, two-faced son of a–
Severus blinked and the thought was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…
“First – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.”
Granger buried her face in her arms; Severus strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver.
“Second – to Mr Ronald Weasley… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Slytherin House fifty points…”
The Slytherins all clapped and cheered, though a bit more cautiously, still unsure of how this would turn out. Weasley’s face was as red as a tomato, but he was grinning and dutifully taking the hardy pats on his back from the older Slytherins. Severus could hear Percy Weasley saying, “My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!”
“Third – to Mr Harry Potter…” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “... For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House one hundred and fifty points.”
Gryffindor table was quieter this time as they clapped, unsure of what this meant. They were tied with Slytherin. Severus knew this sort of thing must have happened before, but he had never seen it in all his years here.
“Gryffindor and Slytherin have now tied,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “A fitting result after that display of inter-house cooperation. Which means we need a little change of decoration.”
He clapped his hands and the banner was split in the middle, one side showing Gryffindor’s golden lion and the other Slytherin’s silver serpent. The decorations were all a garish mixture of green and red, looking more like Christmas than the End-of-Year Feast.
“So… who exactly gets the House Cup?” one of the Gryffindors asked, to which his neighbor just shrugged.
Harry seemed pleased all the same and was tucking into his dinner as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He must be starving from being laid up in the hospital wing. “The Headmaster should have given you points too,” the boy said. “Then we could have won completely.”
“Me? Why me? And I wouldn’t want that. Would you want to take away the House Cup from Weasley?”
Harry looked up across the room. “No,” he said. “I’m glad we get to share it. But you still should have gotten points. You’re the one who discovered Voldemort was here at Hogwarts, after all.”
Severus snorted. “Yes, Harry, after I had run blindly into the forest, completely out of my head from fever and pain potions.” He could barely remember that night, thank Merlin. The embarrassment might just have killed him.
Harry’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Hey. You just called me Harry.”
Severus blinked. He had, hadn’t he? He had been calling him that in his head for a while now, ever since Christmas, but had always refused to refer to him anything but Potter on principle. But now it came so easily. Ugh. He didn’t care what body he was in, he still considered himself a professor. “No, you misheard me. I called you Scary, because of your hideous face.”
Harry laughed.
Soon, it was time for the students to make their way to Hogsmeade and board the train. Severus lingered behind. He would leave with Minerva. Harry and Granger and Weasley all gave their goodbyes.
“Back to the Muggles,” Harry sighed. Severus didn’t know much about Harry’s aunt and uncle, but from the boy’s little comments they seemed more… Mugglish than most.
“You must come and stay with me this summer,” Weasley said, looking between him, Harry, and Granger. “All three of you. The twins will be nightmares, I’m sure.”
“Kill them,” Severus suggested. “Kill them all. Become an only child.”
“No,” Weasley sighed. “Mum would definitely ground me if I did that.”
After enduring their good-byes, Severus ran off in search of Draco, hoping he hadn’t already boarded one of the carriages to Hogsmeade. He found him sitting alone on the steps, watching the other students as they laughed and jostled each other for the next carriage. The sight was hauntingly familiar; it brought Severus right back to his own childhood. How often had he sat on those same steps, watching all the other children, no friends to speak of? Draco will at least have me, Severus thought and dropped down beside him.
“Oh, McGonagall, what are you doing here?” Draco asked, surprised at his sudden appearance.
“I wanted to tell you goodbye. I won’t be on the train.”
“Oh, yes, I didn’t think of that.” He seemed distracted by something.
“Will you write to me over the summer?”
Draco looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe. I might not be coming back to Hogwarts next year. Father resigned from the Board of Governors after that whole thing with Professor Yaxley. He has been talking about spending the next year at the chateau. It’s in France. It’s a lovely place, full of culture and old magic.” He said all of this as though he was quoting somebody, possibly Narcissa. “And Father thinks I need to work on my French anyway. He says I’m getting rusty. I would be able to pick it up again if I transferred to Beauxbatons.”
The words were full of bluster, but Severus knew Draco. He knew when he was scared.
“Write to me,” he commanded. “You can tell me anything; I know how to keep secrets.”
Draco hesitated, but finally nodded. As another carriage rolled up, he waved goodbye, before scrambling inside after Parkinson and Goyle.
He heard the sweep of Dumbledore’s robes against the flagstone, saw the white wispy hairs of his beard from the corner of his eye. “Before you and Minerva leave, we need to have a meeting. We have all made mistakes this year, and we need to be better prepared for the next. We need to strategize.”
Severus looked up at him. Dumbledore wasn’t wearing the face of the kindly, eccentric grandfather that the students were used to. Instead, he wore his second, secret face: the flint-hard eyes of a general, the severe press of his mouth. And Severus hopped to, his toy soldier falling into line.
Next in the Emily Dickinson Reader series…
Remorse is Memory Awake
“Harry, Harry,” said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, “it’s not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms…”