Chapter 8
The scene vanished again. Instead of a new one taking its place, the candle lights flickered before vanishing altogether, leaving the fireplace as the only light source in the room. The silence that followed was deafening, horror etched on every face. Sirius slumped back in his chair, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He couldn’t look at Severus, couldn’t face the man he had tormented, saved, and betrayed in equal measure. As expected, Severus was the first to recover. He cleared his throat, his voice steady but cold.
“Well, Sirius,” he began. The other man’s head snapped up, his eyes brimming with tears as he tried to process his best friend’s – his brother’s – betrayal. Severus felt a pang in his chest, an old ache stirring to life. For a moment, he wanted to reach out, to untangle the mess they had just witnessed. But he felt something holding him back.
“It seems I owe you an apology for that night. I misjudged you and accused you of pulling that stunt. For saving my life, I must thank you. But I must return to Hogwarts now.” Severus’ voice was hollow, the words that he couldn’t form hanging between them. He stood, his robes sweeping the floor as he turned.
“Wait!” Harry’s voice cracked with desperation. “Are you going to punish me for what he did?”
The corners of Severus’s mouth twitched, but the expression was unreadable. He turned slowly, his gaze fixed on Harry. “I do not hold your father’s wrongdoings against you, Potter,” he said, his tone sharp. “But let us not pretend you haven’t been walking the same path.”
Harry reeled as though struck. “I’m nothing like him!” he shot back, his voice trembling with both fury and the faintest edge of doubt.
Severus raised a skeptical brow, seemingly cold and undetached. “Really? Did you not make a snap judgment about me because I am the head of Slytherin? Have you and your friends not fought me at every turn, driven by your preconceived notions? Have you not tried to humiliate me time and again?”
Harry’s fists clenched at his sides. “Name one time!” he shot back.
“Very well,” Severus said, his voice dangerously soft. He held one finger up, counting the first offence. Harry knew he was about to be in trouble. “Let us start with your first year, when Miss Granger lit my robes on fire during the Quidditch match because you assumed I was hexing you.” Severus raised his second finger, tapping it with his other hand. “Or last year, when you attacked me in the Shrieking Shack, despite the fact that I was there to protect you against whom I believed was there to murder you.”
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Severus raised a hand, cutting him off.
“Perhaps we should discuss the Marauder’s Map,” Severus continued, adding his third finger, his gaze flicking to Remus, who shifted uncomfortably. “A dangerous object no student—or adult—should possess. Yet, you chose to use it to explore the castle grounds past curfew. When I confiscated it, when I was simply doing my job, you gave me nothing but insolence. What should a professor have done, Harry? Turn a blind eye to a student making unsafe choices or perhaps invite them to my office and offer them sweets!” Severus bit out the last sentence but quickly composed himself.
Remus ducked his head at the biting remark. Harry flinched but said nothing.
“Shall we talk about today then? Today, when you stole my wand. And when I came to retrieve it, you immobilized me.” Severus added his pinky and thumb, bumping the tally up to five. “I was forced to relive a near-death experience because, once again, you wanted to prove that I must be a villain, that I must somehow deserve it. Do not forget, Potter, that I, too, have seen the horrors of your past. But never—” his voice cracked slightly, though he recovered immediately, “—never have I placed the blame for them on you.”
The weight of his words hung heavily in the room. Harry’s face burned with shame as he stared at the floor, speechless.
Severus adjusted his robes with deliberate precision, his composure fully regained. “I trust you understand now,” he said, his tone clipped. Without waiting for a reply, he picked up his wand and strode toward the door.
The sound of the door shutting echoed like a final judgment. The room remained still—Harry, red-faced and trembling; Remus, staring at the floor with guilt carved into his features; and Sirius, speechless, breathless, horrified.