Lessons learnt
For the next few days, Harriet reluctantly dragged herself to breakfast, then class, stuck in a loop of feeling groggy and unsettled. After long nights of tossing and turning, she eventually succumbed to restless sleep in the early hours of the morning before waking up to do it all over again. She told herself it was just nerves about the start of the new school year, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Her nights were already exhausting but her days were made even worse since she spent most of it trying to evade Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She remembered meeting him over the summer while school shopping with the Weasleys, and he brushed past her talking animatedly to the paparazzi surrounding him before he noticed who he walked into. She could still recall how he froze and the way his eyes travelled up to her scar before he broke out in a dazzling smile and grabbed her to take photos with him, much to her displeasure. It took a solid twenty minutes to shake the man off and escape with Ron.
Just because he wrote lots of books with heroic deeds it somehow instantly made him a famous heartthrob to most of the female students, and they crowded around him in the hallways, almost trampling her in their excitement. They loved Lockhart, but to Harriet, he was a thorn in her side because he made it his business to seek her out on the hallways in between classes to get as much pictures taken by Colin Creevery, a first year Gryffindor whose hobby was photography.
Lockhart spent an agonizingly long time going over the ropes of fame and signing autographs for those around them, urging her to do the same much to her embarrassment. By the second day of classes, the Slytherins had already made her and Lockhart the brunt of many cruel jokes and they hurled insults and crumpled autographs her way. Avoiding Lockhart was now becoming a daily occurrence, because no matter how much she refused or tried to brush him off, he somehow always managed to corner her and entrap her for the pictures and fan sessions.
Harriet thought he was an insufferable phoney.
“He’s not that bad Harriet, he’s done all those amazing things in his books,” Hermione gushed, one evening after leaving his class, “And besides, he’s so handsome too, his eyes really are a perfect shade of blue.”
“Mione, the git almost got us mauled by those pixies, who cares what colour his eyes are!” Ron chided, nursing a red scratch on his arm.
“Well…he wanted us to take care of them on our own…so maybe he has a more laid-back form of teaching,” she said, yet there was a doubtful frown on her face.
Harriet didn’t understand what Hermione saw in him. Nor anyone else really. Lavender and Parvati were both mad about him as well, and recently they’d been giving her the cold shoulder since he’d been smothering her with unnecessary attention. It was all barmy really, how was that her fault? He was their teacher for God’s sake, and a stranger! It was mental to think she enjoyed having her space invaded and being forced to pose for pictures with someone she didn’t know. She shuddered at the thought of having to endure his antics much longer.
It’s not like she disliked him for no reason, and she did make an attempt to read his books, but they just seemed so….fake.
Lockhart didn’t look like the kind of wizard who would rescue a remote tribe in Malaysia from an ancient species of carnivorous magical fish. He looked like the kind of man who would use a silver spoon to stare at himself while primping his hair.
Which is exactly what he was doing right now she thought in disgust as she entered the Great Hall. Lockhart sat at the teachers table to the left of a twinkling Dumbledore. Next to him sat Snape who was eyeing him coldly and looking as disgusted as she felt.
Drowning her thoughts with the laughter and voices around her, Harriet made her way to the Gryffindor table where Hermione and Ron were waiting for her. When she sat down, she made a half-hearted attempt to eat some toast, before giving up and shoving it to the side.
Hermione looked at her with concern. “Harriet, you really should see Madam Pomfrey. You still don’t look well.”
“I’m fine, Hermione,” Harriet insisted, though she appreciated her friend’s concern. “Haven’t been sleeping too well honestly and I just need to get back into the swing of things.”
Hermione looked at her doubtfully and opened her mouth to interject, but at that moment Professor McGonagall swooped in, mercifully allowing Harriet to escape the conversation.
“Good morning Miss Potter and Mister Weasley, it has been decided for your actions earlier this week, you will both have detention this evening. Weasley you are with Mr. Filch and Potter, Professor Snape,” she said in her stern, no nonsense tone.
Harriet felt her stomach turn and Ron tensed next to her.
“I expect you both to be timely and report to your respective posts after dinner,” she said with finality, before briskly walking away, exiting the great hall.
“Bugger it all,” Ron said glumly, looking as miserable as she felt.
“That could’ve gone worse you know,” Hermione said in a huff, turning back to her toast.
Harriet sighed, feeling embarrassed. Without a doubt those around would have heard their conversation with McGonagall. Turning around slightly, she glanced behind her to see the Slytherins watching them with smug looks on their faces, Draco Malfoy and his gang openly laughing at them.
She opened her mouth to say something scathing, but in that moment the post arrived and the owls came swooping down right past their heads, a large tawny dropping a letter on Ron’s plate.
When the owls cleared out of the Great Hall, Harriet turned back to her friends, startled to see Ron with a look of dread on his face. In front of him was a red envelope and he made no attempt to open it, only stared at it in frozen horror. Next to him, Neville looked at the letter anxiously, his ears going red.
What was wrong with it? Harriet thought to herself, genuinely curious at Ron’s reaction. She glanced at Hermione but she looked equally as perplexed. Suddenly, the letter floated upwards in view of all and morphed into a crude version of a mouth.
Mrs. Weasley’s angry voice rose out of the letter, echoing around the entire Great Hall, “RONALD WEASLEY. HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! DO YOU KNOW THE KIND OF WEEK WE’VE HAD DEALING WITH YOUR NONESENSE? YOUR FATHER IS NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK-!”
Oh no, Harriet wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Oh no, oh no. This was not happening was it?
She felt her insides turn cold and all she could do was watch Ron with a pitiful look on her face as they listened to his mother’s scolding.
Soon after, Mrs. Weasley’s shouting ended abruptly and the letter burst into flames, black ashes falling onto Ron’s shaking hands before disappearing. Feeling her face heat up in embarrassment, she looked at him only to see him wearing an equally horrified look on his face. Hermione was staring at them both, mortification echoing on all their faces at what just happened.
Somewhere behind her she could hear the laughter and snickers of the students around them. She was sure the majority were Slytherins.
Further down the Gryffindor table, she saw Fred and George get up and gesture indecently towards the perpetrators. And after what felt like a lifetime, the laughter died down and the chatter of the students in the Great Hall shielded them from their embarrassment.
“What do we have this morning?” asked Harriet, pitifully attempting to make conversation to diffuse the tension.
Ron groaned into his eggs and gave an exasperated sigh.
“Guess,” was all he said with a pained expression.
Their first class was with Professor Snape and unfortunately, the Slytherins. As they filed into the cold, dark dungeon hallway, Draco Malfoy, stuck his leg out in front of Harriet, causing her to stumble forward, shoulder slamming disgracefully into the dungeon doors. He and his cronies snickered, a cruel expression on his face.
“What’s the matter Potter? Can’t stop yourself from falling for me?” he taunted, a cruel expression on his face. Next to him Pansy Parkison glared daggers at her, her eyes icy and unforgiving.
Harriet couldn’t help the look of disgust that crossed her face.
“Shove it Malfoy,” growled Ron who almost lunged at Malfoy but was held back by Hermione.
“Shut up Weasley, shouldn’t you be digging ditches somewhere to pay for your father’s legal bills? Or maybe you could have Potter pose for you and sell the pictures for a few knuts. I’m surprised your peasant family even owned a car to begin with,” he sniggered.
Ron swore at him and suddenly the taunting Slytherins fell silent. The air seemed to have gotten a few degrees cooler, radiating chilled ire.
“20 points from Gryffindor Weasley, anymore out of you and I’ll have you washing your mouth with soap,” Came Professor Snape’s soft voice.
Ron’s face paled in the dim lights, the effects akin to a drained corpse. Harriet turned around and almost jumped in surprise to find Snape standing right next to her, looking as displeased as he sounded.
“What are you imbiciles waiting for,” he barked, looking at the rest of students, “Get in and prepare yourselves. Today’s potion is written on the board.”
He turned and briskly walked to the front of the room, eyes sharp as he watched them filter in and take their seats nervously. As he surveyed the classroom, taking note of each student present, Harriet couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on her longer than usual. His expression was inscrutable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze that Harriet couldn’t quite place.
Harriet stared at him. He was a strange teacher, Snape. His reputation amongst the student body was not good and some of them called him the most evil and vile teacher in the world. It didn’t help that she also heard from Fred and George over the summer that one time he made a first year student cry and freak out so badly that they had to be excused from classes for a week. It’s not like they were lying either because even Percy who was notoriously unbiased had a difficult time saying good things about him.
She really dreaded her detention with him.
It was strange, but she recalled being told by Dumbledore that Snape was the one who found her passed out next to Quirrell’s body last term and instantly brought her to safety. That was a surprise for her, as she didn’t expect that he would be the one to show up and save her, despite his blatant hatred towards Gryffindors and lack of interest toward her. Really she would’ve expected him to leave her to die actually.
She chalked it up to Dumbledore sending the first teacher he could contact at that moment. However the more she thought about it, the more she was curious.
He didn’t strike her as a hero or even a villain, she just always thought of him more of a person seemed uninterested in being around children. Why did he become a teacher then? He genuinely really seemed to dislike having to teach them and he had a way of blending into the shadows and appearing when least expected to dock points from wayward students. Despite being tall and imposing, it was easy for him to blend in with the darkness around Hogwarts with his black robes that constantly made him look like a disgruntled vampire that haunted the halls.
She laughed quietly at the thought.
He was speaking now, listing the new potions for them to learn this year and she studied his pale face, taking note of the lines that made him look older than he probably was. When he turned his face, she noticed that his nose was slightly hooked which added to his commanding presence. His jet black hair fell neatly around his face and under his eyes were dark as if he hadn’t slept in a while.
The more she observed the more she realized that she couldn’t quite figure him out really.
She knew he hated Gryffindors but for some reason he was never cruel to her, even when she found herself in inexplicable situations. He spent a good portion of the evening berating Ron when Filch brought them to him for the opening feast. Oddly enough he only scrutinized her with a hard look on his face, before docking points from them and making it a point to call Ron a fatheaded dimwit and then yell at them before Dumbledore showed up. It really was bad to be on the receiving end of his anger she thought. But even absolutely pissed at them, didn’t call her any cruel names as he did to Ron. Why?
She frowned at that.
Even though he spent a good portion of their classes bullying the Gryffindor boys, he never said anything to her, even when she sometimes obviously botched her potions. But then again, he never said anything to the other Gryffindor girls either, except to berate Hermione when she answered without permission, or to scold Lavender for giggling in his class. But he really just ignored Harriet most of the time. Granted she didn’t speak out of turn, but he never asked her difficult questions either to embarrass her in front of the class like he did Neville.
She used to be ignored by the Dursleys for her freakishness, but they couldn’t help but grimace or twist their faces in displeasure when she entered the same room they were in. Snape’s way of ignoring someone was completely different. It was like she really didn’t exist to him. There was no emotion on his face if he ever called on her in class, nor did he look at her during meals when she glanced up at the teachers table. The only time she genuinely saw him angry with her was a few days ago. Other than that she was completely ignored.
Did he hate her or something?
She studied his face for any trace of emotions but all she found was bored displeasure as the lesson continued.
Suddenly, as if sensing her unrelenting stare on him, his eyes shifted to hers and their eyes locked, causing her to startle and spill her ink all over Hermione’s notes, much to her disdain. She quickly averted her eyes whispering apologies to Hermione, trying to revoke the sudden attention while she cleaned up the mess, but she could feel his stare boring into her.
“Miss Potter,” Snape drawled suddenly, his voice dripping with disdain. “I trust that despite all the excitement, you’ve found time to do the summer reading?”
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Malfoy and his cronies sniggering at whispering to each other.
Harriet nodded, keeping her voice steady. “Yes, Professor.”
“Good,” Snape replied, his tone sharper than necessary. “Because I expect nothing less than perfection from you this year.
The day passed smoothly and mercifully, they had no more classes with the Slytherins after potions. Harriet said a silent prayer to whatever God there was looking over her. She didn’t think she could handle more than one class with Malfoy and his insufferable band of idiots today. Ron was already on edge for Malfoy’s stunt earlier and she didn’t think that she could handle an altercation between the two. She was already nervous for her detention with Snape and she spent the last two periods of classes thinking about what horrific things he had planned for her to do.
After parting with Ron in the Great Hall where Filch waited for him, she made her way down to the dungeons to the potions classroom. Finding the door slightly ajar, she knocked once before entering, the great wrought iron making an eerie grating noise. There were no lights and she had to admit, at night the potions classroom seemed even creepier. The floating chunks and ingredients in the jars surrounding the classroom looked even more macabre in the dark, cold, empty space.
She stood there shivering, wondering where Snape was, when suddenly the door behind her slammed causing her to jump. She turned around and came face to face with him, his white face looking like a floating head in the darkness around them. Seeing her jump, his face twitched with a look of amusement and with a wave of his wand, the lights came on, much to her relief.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw that inside the room lay several cauldrons of varying sizes that had wet residual gunk on them, no doubt from his other classes.
“Your task this evening, Miss Potter, is to clean these cauldrons, quietly and without magic. When you are finished you may leave,” he instructed.
Harriet blinked, was that it? She expected something horrendous like cleaning hospital bedpans or gross like dissecting a barrel of slugs all night. At her confused face, he looked at her with disdain.
“Is there a problem with that instruction?” he asked sharply.
“Honestly I expected something worse,” she said without thinking.
He looked stunned for a second before raising his brow, “Well perhaps I should add gutting frog livers or chopping flobberworms to your task,” he said softly.
“Wait, no sir, sorry I misspoke,” she said hastily, making her way to the closest cauldron hoping he would not stop her.
He scoffed and sat at his desk, grabbing a stack of papers to the side, eyes trained on her until she began her task.
After what seemed like hours, she washed the final bit of potion residue off the velvet cloth at the sink in the corner of the classroom and stepped back to admire her work. The cauldrons’ smooth surface gleamed in the dim lighting and she gave a satisfied nod. Her years of polishing intricate antiques and crystals at her aunt’s house paid off because cauldrons turned out to be light work. She looked over to Snape to see him bent over the desk, a red tipped quill in his hand, hastily marking the significantly smaller pile of papers on his desk.
She nervously cleared her throat and he looked up, irritation on his face. Glancing at the hourglass on his desk, he rose from his seat and worked his way around the room, inspecting each cauldron with an unreadable look on his face.
She looked at him with wide eyes and his lip curled in disgust at the sheer hopefulness on the girl’s face, the look too reminiscent of what it meant to be young.
“They are subpar but you may go as it is late. Let this serve as a lesson to avoid foolish decisions in the future, lest you find yourself in a more unpleasant situation next time,” he said dismissively, watching the expectant look drain from her face.
Good.
He did not need the girl looking to him for anything, much less validation. Admittedly, she did well. The cauldrons were bright and she even polished out a few scratches. But God forbid he ever admitted to a student that they did a good job, Dumbledore would surely never let him hear the end of it.
She looked at him with a wounded expression; hurt echoing in Lily’s eyes as she turned to leave the classroom, fingers slowly reaching for the door handle. Guilt gripped at him causing an unpleasant sensation in his chest.
Fuck.
He rushed towards her instinctively and grabbed the edge of the iron door, his arms hovering above her, mentally cursing himself for his momentary weakness. She stopped and looked up at him in surprise, his face a blank mask above her head. He flung the door open and she stumbled onto the quiet hallway disgracefully, still gaping at him in surprise.
“What now?” he snapped, instantly irritated.
“Er, nothing Sir I was just leaving… was there something else you needed?” she asked with a perplexed look on her face.
“Well as you may know Miss Potter, there is a curfew and students are not supposed to be out of their dorm unattended at this time. Would you perhaps like to receive another detention from Filch today?” he asked, a sneer forming on his face.
Realization dawned on her face and he could see her go red with embarrassment.
“Right Sir… I forgot,” she mumbled sheepishly, looking down at her shoes.
He huffed quietly and she decided to shut up, feeling abysmally foolish for forgetting that one quaint fact. As they ascended the lower floors of the castle in silence, Harriet focused on dancing candle lights flickering around the castle halls and the subdued roaring of the wind against the walls that sounded eerily like whispers and groans.
“Kill….Kill…”
The wind was starting to sound like words now.
“Blood…I smell blood…”
She stopped in her tracks suddenly. Wait that wasn’t the wind. What was that? Did she imagine it? Her heart was pounding and sweat beaded her forehead.
“What are you doing Miss Potter?”
“Let me rip you…” hissed the voice once more and she grabbed her ears. No, she did not imagine it.
“I asked you what are you doing Miss Potter!” barked Snape said, looking at her sharply, his voice angry.
She looked up at him, her face confused. Did he speak to her? All she heard was that creepy voice. She lowered her hands from her eyes, heart still racing. She stared the stones on the walls but heard nothing.
“Sorry Professor… I…think I heard something weird, but I think I was wrong,” she said shakily.
He spoke in a low, steady voice, soft but edged with a severity, “You think you heard something…but you were wrong,” he repeated.
“Yeah, you know, like when you think you hear someone say your name but it was just a similar sound?” she reiterated.
“I know what you meant Miss Potter,” he snapped, irritation back in his voice. “What did you hear?”
“I think I heard…the wind talking… or the walls.” She said.
He studied her for a moment longer, her tired eyes and shaky hands still visible even in the dull lighting. Right now she looked far too weary and worn for a child.
He sighed.
“Let us make haste, perhaps you need some more rest Miss Potter,” he said, continuing forward leading the way.
She looked at him defiantly but decided to remain silent for the rest of their trip, an act which he was secretly grateful for. He remained on edge as he walked her up to the Pink Lady, waiting quietly until she woke the painting up and climbed through the portrait hole. Once the portrait closed shut, he turned and swiftly made his way down the stairs without a backward glance, en route to Dumbledore’s office.
It was late, but he doubted the Headmaster was even asleep, and even if he was, they had pressing matters to discuss.
“Severus,” the Headmaster greeted, looking up from a thick magical tome with glittering stars that almost entirely covered his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you escorted young Harriet back to her common room after her, dare I say, unpleasant detention?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“Unfortunately, it was not as unpleasant as you both hoped it seems,” Severus said, “Cleaning cauldrons proved to be too simple for Miss Potter, despite being abhorred by almost all students. Perhaps I should have stuck her with Lockhart since he so badly wanted her detention and since she wanted to suffer.”
Dumbledore looked at him with amusement, “So you have been bested after all,” he chuckled.
Severus glared at him before saying vehemently, “Fun aside Headmaster, I came to tell you that Miss Potter claimed to be hearing voices.”
At that all mirth left Dumbledore’s face and he sat up straighter, “Explain.”
Severus gave him the story, recalling how she stopped suddenly and grabbed at her ears until her knuckles went white, her face a mixture of surprise and panic. It disturbed him how unresponsive she was when he called out to her and how fearful she looked in that moment.
“And there was no one around?” asked Dumbledore, a piercing look in his eyes.
“There were no students, no ghosts and Peeves didn’t leave the Great Hall for the entire night.”
Dumbledore twirled his beard, silver strands becoming entangled in his fingers but he was too distracted to notice. A rare troubled look embellished his face and he looked at Severus with uncertainty, “Have you made any progress with Lucius?” he asked seriously.
“I have already owled Narcissa to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. If there is something dark at work in Hogwarts because of him, she would be the one to know,” he stated. He paused before continuing.
“I don’t think he has been contacted by the Dark Lord. He surely would’ve left such a meeting with multiple casualties and I would’ve been the first person he’d run to,” Snape affirmed.
Dumbledore looked far off, as though his head swirled with thoughts. It took him sometime before he spoke again.
“It pains me Severus; truly, to think that there could be danger lurking in Hogwarts, attempting to harm our children. I worry especially about Harriet, and I cannot say that the events of today do not trouble me,” he confessed, for once looking every bit of his old age.
“Well maybe you made the right decision hiring that nonce Lockhart,” Severus scoffed, “With the way he’s been clinging to the girl like a creep; if anything comes her way surely it would murder him first.”
Dumbledore’s face twitched, the ghost of a smile shadowing his face.
“His… fascination with Harriet certainly leaves much to be desired,” he agreed, “But he simply sees her as a widely recognized and revered individual who he can use to boost his fame,” Dumbledore said with a reassuring smile.
“He’s still a disgusting cretin who shouldn’t be anywhere around a school,” Snape sneered, disgust lacing his voice.
“Now Severus you know as well as I that Gilderoy possess no ulterior motives when it comes to Harriet, nor any other student, he has no interest in anyone but himself,” Dumbledore assured him. “If I ever was of the belief that he could be harmful or inappropriate towards them in anyway, I would remove him and take over the post myself.”
Severus scoffed in disbelief, “How you can even stand him Headmaster is a mystery to us all. The fathead is quite literally the joke of the staffroom. He thinks it’s a lark when there’s laughter when he enters.”
“He really is somewhat of a special case I must say,” Dumbledore agreed, “But I’ve always found myself drawn to the absurd,” he chuckled.
Severus scoffed, “At least the curse will take him out by the end of the year and we won’t have to deal with him anymore,” he said bitingly, “A shame you won’t let me have the position.”
Dumbledore looked at him, “Now my boy, you know I cannot let anything happen to you. There’s lots for you to do and have your whole life ahead of you still,” he said, beaming up at him brightly.
Severus looked at him, feeling suddenly weary. He knew what Dumbledore meant. He knew what the future might hold and if things worked out the way Dumbledore expected it wouldn’t be pleasant at all. And Severus did make a promise twelve years ago in Godric’s Hollow didn’t he?
“Once I get the confirmation from Narcissa, I'll let you know,” Severus said before turning his back to the Headmaster.
Dumbledore nodded his approval, “I will await your correspondence until then.”
As he made his way back to the dungeons, Severus thought about that fateful night all those years ago. The night that changed the course of his life forever.
Severus Snape, who waltzed in the abyss for all his life, who relished in the delight of the darkness with his cruel accomplices and who left trails of blood and tears whenever he donned the Dark Lord’s mask, was brought to his knees in tears when he stumbled upon Lily’s cold, frigid body.
Twelve years ago when everything came crashing down, he relinquished it all and swore his allegiance to the light. Even though nothing mattered to him now and he didn’t care to live anymore, Dumbledore was right.
He had a promise to keep.