Harry Potter & The Hand God

“I thought we were going to get matching robes, Harry,” says Tom. He is, of course, elated that Harry has a lead of the truth of his parentage, but…

But, well, he’s selfish. They had plans together before this and is there no merit to sticking to your word? 

“Later, Tom, I promise,” calls out Harry. He’s dragging both he and Blaise by their hands through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. Blaise has sent a Patronus out to his parents -- who had, before this, not intended for Blaise to go back to Hogwarts for the evening -- and Tom watches, wondering again how similar they are.

Throwing your previous plans away in reckless abandon, all because of Harry. It does sound familiar. 

Tom mumbles something unintelligible. This was supposed to be their day. Filled with a shared revelation, shared time together. It is being thrown away. It’s a good thing, he reminds himself. For Harry, it seems like a great one. And for that, he will keep him complaints largely to himself.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. He does. And lots of them.

He screws his jaw tight and lets himself be drug, side by side with a boy he hates more than Dumbledore himself. The three of them portkey back into Hogwarts and Harry’s excitement makes itself infectious. 

And Tom lets it happen. He lets all of it happen. 

(Love. Yes. Tom supposes this is what Harry would call love.)

Harry looks toward Blaise the moment their feet hit the floor. “I need your help, love. Can I have it?”

And of course he answers, “Yes.” Tom wonders why he ever bothers to ask.

Harry turns toward Tom. “Yours, too. I need you both. Can I have you?”

The wording. It’s purposeful, it must be, intended to make Tom’s mouth dry and cheeks shining with the beginning of a flush. And so, of course, Tom says, “Yes,” too. (Tom wonders why he ever bothers to ask.)

Harry awards them, their loyalty, with a grin. “We’ll be unstoppable,” he breathes. “A future teller, one of the most powerful wizards of his time, and a magic snatcher walk into a bar.” He laughs, sending himself into hysterics.

It is lovely. Tom relishes in the joy second handedly. (The compliment, too. Though he would not say ‘one of the most’ -- he simply is the most powerful wizard. Of all time.) “Will you explain to us, then, what you were going on about in Gringotts? This does seem the time for that.” 

“Oh, yes -- right. We’re trying to figure out which one of my parents is godly. And you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking somebody else already knows.”

Tom thinks immediately of himself. He says, sharply, “That’s impossible, Harry.”

But Harry says, “I don’t think so. I think Snape’s known for a while now -- and I don’t think he’s interested in subtly,” and Tom realizes he is being ridiculous.

Harry does not know that Tom knows. He has no reason to panic, to worry, and so he relaxes his shoulders and steadies his breathing.

(Blaise eyes him oddly.)

“Why would you say that, Harry?” Tom asks. Blaise has taken the lead of their trio, his power tuning him in to where Harry needs them to be. 

“He calls me James.”

Tom’s eyes widen and he clears his throat. Reminds himself that Harry does not know what Tom knows. His panic is without reason. “What?” 

“And -- and asked if I knew who I was, before my trial. He spoke about the things I’ve done before and how they matter much more than what I’m doing now. And it’s odd. It’s all odd and it’s all off and he knows something. He knows something and is hinting at it… but not saying it.”

Harry turns on his heel. They have arrived at an unused classroom -- supposedly, if Tom were to guess, where Snape is -- and Harry says, pointedly, “So. We get him to say it. We get him to confirm that my father had the same powers that I now do -- and we do so by whatever means necessary. Understand?”

“You make it sound like we’re going to fight him,” says Tom. 

“We might,” says Harry. He’s grinning. “Who’s to say, really? You in?”

And Tom wonders why he ever bothers to ask.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Severus Snape had said, some time ago, to a boy who no longer remembers it, that he would never duel a child. It was in response to Harry offering one out to him and Lily had written, in an also now forgotten journal entry, that she wonders what will happen when he is no longer a child.

Severus’ words had hung around his head. No longer a child, no longer a child -- but with the knowledge he gained then, the knowledge that Harry is not just similar to James, but, in all likelihood, James himself…

Well. Then he would not very well be dueling a child, would he?

And he is a bitter old man. His resentment is deeply ingrained. Sometimes he wishes he was as Harry pretends he is (and it must be pretend, this act of a foolish boy in need of a rememberball), so easily able to forget. Because Severus’ mind is a fortress in every sense of the word.

He does not, and cannot, forget. And he will never forgive.

He is grading papers in the quiet of an empty classroom. It’s not his own. He figures that if someone wants to find him, they will not look here. It is for the sake of some well deserved peace and quiet and when Harry Potter throws open the door, Severus cannot help his frustration.

James would ruin this. Of course he would. James ruins everything. 

Harry is not alone. He rarely is. He is flanked by the expected and ever present Blaise Zabini (though that one was supposed to be at home for the break…) and, yes, the newer arrival to Harry’s friend group.

Tom Riddle. The Headboy, the former Prefect, the friend to his godson. Severus does not understand why he bothers with James.

By the looks of it, he might just find out.

“I want to know the truth behind my father,” demands (and it is, really, a demand; his arrogance cannot be killed even through actual death) Harry. “I know you know. So, tell me. Was James able to steal people’s magic? Am I like him?”

Like him? 

Boy, you are him. 

“I see this as no valid reason to disturb me. This is a matter entirely unconcerned with--”

“But you do know,” says Harry, moving closer to the desk Severus sits at. “Don’t you?”

Severus will not indulge hypotheticals. He will not indulge what is mere theatrics. “Out. Or it is ten House points from Gryffindor. If that won’t do, I will continue with Slytheirn--”

“Would you like me expelled, Professor?”

Severus narrows his eyes. The answer is an obvious, “Indubitably.” And Snape wonders what this has to do with the conversation. (And then he allows himself to hope.)

“You want me expelled, I want information about my father. What do we have over each other, then? What’s the word I’m looking for?” Harry snaps his fingers.

“Leverage,” Blaise supplies. He has done this before.

“Right,” says Harry, leaning his hands onto the desk. “Leverage. Do you want to make a deal, Severus?”

Severus tilts his chin up. “What are you proposing? I say what you want to hear; you leave this school?” 

“Oh, no,” Harry laughs. “No, no, I’m afraid I can’t make it that easy.”

Sounding too good to be true means it probably is. “What, then?”

“I challenge you to a wizard’s duel. Or an Affair of Honor -- though we can both agree whatever happens between us has never been about honor and more so ego. Whatever floats your boat.”

Severus understands quickly. If Snape loses, Harry gets information he surely must already know. (Making Severus wonder what this is really about -- if James is as resentful as he is. Is this the only way he seeks to settle a score, left unruled years ago? Severus would not doubt it. He is not the only one so petty.) And if he wins, Harry is expelled.

Severus said he would never duel a child.

He said nothing about children. And he said nothing about James. “You would be joined by your friends in the fight, I presume?”

Harry shrugs. “Why else would I bring them?” 

Severus…

He would like to settle a score, too.

“A duel, then. I agree to a duel.”

Tom clears the room quickly. In an effortless display of wandless and nonverbal magic, the chairs and desks of the room are pushed to the side. (Severus is admittedly impressed. But not worried. Tom is newly eighteen. Still a child at heart. Severus has never been threatened much by kids.) 

Blaise speaks up. “The room is our arena. Leave it, lose your wand, become unable to continue, or yield and it is a loss.”

“When are we starting?” asks Tom.

Snape sends a cutting curse Harry’s way and says, “Now.”

And… astonishingly, Harry does not have to move to dodge it. 

Blaise puts up a shield the moment it is thrown and the spell clatters against it. He moves to the back of the group, letting Tom and Harry take the front.

It is an odd start. Severus puts up a child of his own and works to keep Tom and Harry from circling him. Blaise is on defense.

He is worryingly (oddly) good at it.

Severe sets fire to the desks. He releases fog into the arena, followed by an immediate Disillusionment Charm. What they cannot see, they cannot hit, Blaise cannot guard against. 

Severus speaks his spells quietly. He moves the still flaming desks in a way that will have Blaise cut off, at least somewhat, from Tom and Harry. 

Tom is clearing the smoke, also wandlessly (and that, he supposes, is what his godson sees in him; power), at an alarming rate. 

It is fine. Severus needs only a few moments to locate Harry. Less to disarm him.

Severus walks silently up to Harry from behind. He is poised tensely, eyes raking through the fog desperately. He’s on guard. Severus remembers the exact same pose years ago.

Severus hand is just barely curling over Harry’s wand when a voice, lost somewhere in the fog, yells, “Harry! Behind you!”

Blaise.

Harry whirls around, shooting off a tongue tying jinx and Severus is forced to dodge swiftly. Harry is quick to put difference between them.

Blaise emerges from the fog to set himself at Harry’s side -- how he located them, Severus is not sure. Blaise is a growing mystery and Severus…

Severus is starting to put things together.

(Harry lied in his testimony, at the trial. He knew about Hermione and Ron from a distance and refused to give an honest explanation how. Blaise is a constant at his side. And the only reason to lie to the Church of Merlin about knowing things ahead of time is clear…

Yes. Severus is starting to put things together.

Harry Potter does not start fights he does not think he can win.)

Blaise and Harry disappear into the fog and Severus realizes the only reason they haven’t dispersed it completely is so they can use it to their advantage, too.

And then it clears, in one fell swoop. It’s Tom’s work, evidently -- and Tom stands in front of Blaise and Harry, wand outstretched. 

They are inviting him to move closer. They want him to. 

Why?

It’s…

It’s a trap. Severus takes a step closer to them and feels Tom’s magic swell dangerously around him. Severus feels his lungs scream for air and Severus recognizes the spell.

It is Dark magic. A creation of a vacuum, and Harry’s gaggle of friends must be protected from it. It gives Severus a limited amount of time to confront them, physically, and in any close proximity -- but it is unless if Severus wants to use magic. And he does. When Severus raises his wand to do so, he acknowledges that they’ve thought of that, too.

Harry’s hands form as if squeezing a ball and Severus feels his magic be pulled from his chest slowly. 

Clever. Making him resort to close combat Muggle methods with a time -- he will only have as long as he can hold his breath. One of them -- Tom, if Severus had to guess; he is the only one powerful enough to cast such a complex Charm so efficiently -- casts a Disillusionment Charm on them all and Severus is not dull enough to catch the blatant disadvantage. 

Blaise, by whatever means of power, by whatever supernatural to even supernatural ability he has, can see him, despite Severus’ invisibility. And Severus cannot see them at all.

Clever. Unfair and clever; staples of any Harry Potter shenanigans. 

An Expelliarmus is sent his way. It is quickly side stepped. A pity, Severus figures. They wanted to see if they could get him easily, without forcing him forward.

Tom’s vacuum inches closer. If they cannot get him without Severus moving closer, they’ll insure he does anyway.

And Severus Snape is a lot of things. He is a bitter man. He is a powerful Occulmus. He is a Potions master.

He is not an idiot.

So Severus drops his wand, disarming himself. Because he is not an idiot. He can tell when and where he’s lost and here, he is not a winner.

Severus begins talking, knowing full well that James and his new generation of friends who do not know better are listening, and he starts with the very last detention he served to Harry Potter.