Severus Evans and the Impudent Brat: Chapter Two
Year One: Severus Evans and the Impudent Brat

Chapter 2: The Race to the Bottom



Severus stormed into Dumbledore's office.

"Insolent, sullen, sarcastic," he announced without preamble. "I hardly recognize him as my son."

"Is that so, Severus?" Dumbledore, seated at his desk, tried to suppress a smile.

"It is not a matter for amusement," snapped Severus. "You were supposed to keep him safe."

"He appears to have been kept safe."

"He's been miserable! I know the look!"

"He's been living with your sister-in-law for ten years. Have mercy on the boy."

"The question is, how much mercy did they have on my boy?"

"Severus, Severus. I am not saying the circumstances were ideal. Even so, Petunia is hardly comparable to Voldemort--and that, as you may recall, was your primary concern when you left the boy in her care."

"Before I realized that Voldemort was gone."

"Not for good, Severus. Not yet for good."

"I wish I'd kept him."

"And where would you have kept him? We couldn't very well have had a small child toddling about the halls of Hogwarts--although," mused Dumbledore, "that might have been interesting. Yes, indeed."

"I should have remarried. Or hired a nanny."

"Severus, we've been this round before."

"I know, I know." Severus frowned, drumming his fingers on the edge of a shelf. "I just wish I'd done something. Visited. Checked on the boy. At least dropped by once a year to wish him a happy birthday."

"Severus, I believe you have a class to teach."

"N.E.W.T.s. They can bloody well teach themselves by now--"

"Severus."

"--and if they can't, they'll never make their marks."

"Even so, Severus, your duty is to be with them helping them to attain those marks, not standing here arguing about decisions long since past."

Severus scowled. "Fine," he muttered. "Clearly N.E.W.T.s matter more than--"

"Severus."

He looked darkly at Dumbledore.

"Insolent, sullen, sarcastic." Dumbledore chuckled. "The very image--"

Severus slammed the door behind him.


"'Without partiality' means none of the houses have any points left by the end of the year."

One of the damned Weasley twins, offering one of their typically twisted expositions to Harry. It was tempting...

Severus pretended he hadn't heard and walked on.


He really needed to have some time to talk with the boy. Alone. Outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, Harry time and again managed to elude confrontation.

One evening Severus tried to fetch him from the Gryffindor dormitory, but he was stopped short by the Fat Lady. "If he doesn't want to talk to you," she said, "you can't force him to talk to you."

He'd been this round before.

"It didn't work with Lily, and it won't work with Lily's son."

He didn't know portraits could read minds.

"Thank you," he snapped, and turned away.


In the course of his first flying lesson--Severus was informed at dinner by Minerva--Harry had got into a spat with the Malfoy boy and taken to the air chasing the brat as if he'd been born riding a broom.

"Well, I can't entirely blame him," Severus murmured, knowing Minerva shared his estimation of the Malfoy boy. "Nevertheless, I trust you meted out the appropriate consequences for both of them."

Minerva nodded. "Harry is the new Gryffindor Seeker."

Severus stared at her. "Do you think that's wise?"

"The boy is a natural," said Minerva. "You should be very proud."

"Perhaps under other circumstances--but not as a reward for breaking the rules!"

"Certainly not, Severus." Minerva drew back, looking offended. "As a reward for demonstrated outstanding performance--in spite of breaking a rule or two." A little smile played at the edges of her stern expression. "And I do think it's about time that Slytherin had some real competition on the field, don't you?"

Severus gave her a long, appraising look. "I thought Slytherins were supposed to be the rule-benders," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you've been hard at work redefining Slytherin. Why shouldn't I do the same for Gryffindor?"

"You sly..."

"It's for the greater good," added Minerva, winking.

"Gryffindor victory in Quidditch: a noble purpose, indeed."


Harry's ascent to the Gryffindor Quidditch team was supposed to have been kept quiet, which meant that by the next morning at breakfast all the school had heard the news. And if Minerva had thought to keep it a secret, the curiously broom-shaped package dropped onto the boy's breakfast plate did little to serve that end.

He would have to have a word with Dumbledore.

Worse, the boy reveled in all the attention being lavished upon him. He beamed at everyone, nodding like a king acknowledging the praises of his loyal subjects, promising that he would do his very best to kick Slytherin arse.

"Language, Evans," chided Severus, overhearing this last remark in passing. "Two points from Gryffindor."


Of course it had to be a Friday: first year Potions with his son. If last week's class had been an endurance contest, Severus could only imagine what this day's class would bring with Quidditch Star Harry at its center.

He was not left long to imagine.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

Severus could hear the chant approaching from down the corridor.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!"

And there was his boy, acting every inch the Gryffindor: cocky, brash, and always at the center of attention. Severus watched, pressing his lips into a tight line, as Harry sauntered into the room surrounded by sycophants.

"Thank you," said Harry, bowing deeply all the way around. "Thank you very much. You may be seated."

Oh, the boy was a bubble sorely in need of bursting.

"Mr. Evans."

Harry looked over to him. "Yes?" he haughtily inquired.

"Take your seat with the rest of the class."

Harry allowed himself a moment of hesitation, just enough to make clear his challenge, then slid obediently into his seat.

Severus did not waver in his stern gaze. "In this classroom, Evans, there are no... celebrities. Do I make myself clear?"

Damn his cheek, that saucy--

"Evans. Do I make myself clear?"

"I wish you'd make yourself disappear."

Even the Slytherins were laughing.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

Gryffindor stopped laughing. Slytherin made up the difference.

"Five points from Slytherin."

Slytherin fell silent.

"I am afraid, Evans, that if you continue along your present course, your celebrity will be short-lived--certainly among your fellow Gryffindors." Severus gave a curt nod and resumed pacing. "Now, if at last we've done with celebrity sideshows, I would like to remind the class that the subject to which we are supposed to be dedicating this time is Potions."

Harry's hand shot up.

Bloody hell.

Severus fixed his eyes on Harry. "Yes, Evans?"

"What potion did you give my mum to trick her into marrying--"

"FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!"

All that could be heard was the reverberations of his own roar, settling into absolute silence.

"May I inform the class at this time," every whispered word was crisply articulated, "that the subject of my beloved late wife--indeed, any subject touching upon my life and my person outside of this classroom--is off limits."

The boy said no more, but Severus could see that he was merely waiting for the next opportune moment to arise.


"Here comes Harry!" cried out one of the damned Weasleys, rising and bowing to greet Harry at the entrance to the dining hall. "The Boy Who Made Evans Lose His Cool!"

"Good job, getting that old icicle to melt!" His twin laughed and slapped Harry on the back.

"This old icicle is melting another ten points from Gryffindor from each of you Weasleys."

Severus walked past them.

"I hate him," muttered Harry.

"And another ten points from Gryffindor to be credited to the insolence of young Evans," Severus snapped, looking over his shoulder at the lot. He clipped away before he should be further delayed by the duty of dealing out deserved losses of house points. He settled into his seat at the High Table and pretended to have an appetite.

They were conspiring. Whispering amongst themselves, shooting many significant glances towards him, planning some further mischief. Severus could only wonder, but he suspected he would know before long.


"It's all quite hopeless, anyway."

"Slytherin always takes the cup."

That was all he could catch of the whispers as he passed them again in the hall after dinner. Severus sighed. No doubt the insufferable Weasleys were egging Harry on, encouraging him to remain indifferent to the loss of house points and continue blithely to conduct himself as disrespectfully as he pleased. It would have to be nipped in the bud, and soon.


He tried to corner Harry the next day.

"Shove off, you old git."

Damn the boy, and damn himself for gaping like a damned fool.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Evans."

Severus stalked away before he could act on the increasingly insistent urge to pummel the boy within an inch of his life. And then he spent the next several hours pacing in his rooms, castigating himself for being a coward who could not stand up to his own eleven-year-old son.

Better a coward, he countered, than a brute.

He would not be his father all over again. He would not.

But he hadn't the least idea what else to be--other than the old icicle famous for striking points instead of striking heads.


Monday morning, nearly all of the Gryffindors were sporting badges. Severus had a good look as he passed their table at breakfast: In the center of the badge was the Gryffindor lion. Below the Gryffindor lion was a number scribed in golden light. Above the lion it read: HOW LOW CAN WE GO?

Better not to ask.


Gryffindor was not on its best behavior that week.


"Three points from Gryffindor."

"Thank you, sir!"

"An additional three points--and three more for that impertinent grin."


"Five points from Gryffindor."

"Make it ten, sir?"

They barely, just barely, held back their smirks.

Severus scowled. "Twenty."


"I'm sorry, Professor, I had to feed my assignment to one of Hagrid's pets."

"Me, too."

"Same here."


What had got into Gryffindor House? Severus frowned as he approached the Great Hall for dinner. He would have to talk to Minerva, have her see if someone had tampered with the water supply, or been poking about in the Restricted Section, been playing with spells far beyond--

"All hail the Old Icicle," said Harry, just loudly enough to be heard by Severus.

Severus kept his head high and did not even look at Harry as he passed and said, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Evans."

"YES!"

The damned Weasley twins leaped into the air, grinning and slapping hands.

"Negative seven! Neg-a-tive seven!"

The number on each badge was glowing: -7.

"Ladies and gentlemen," one of the twins announced. "In less than three weeks' time, this year's Gryffindor House has attained the distinction of being the first house to plummet into the negative figures!"

An explosion of cheers and applause erupted from the crowd. The twins bowed, raised their arms in victory, and led the chant as the Gryffindors poured into the Great Hall:

"How low can we go? How low can we go?"


"How low can we go? How low can we go?"

The chant rippled like a lively stream up and down the Gryffindor table. A few of the Ravenclaws picked it up, and then the Hufflepuffs. Even Slytherin, for once, appeared ready to join Gryffindor's side.

Severus glowered, watching the students wave and grin and shout their approval to his wayward son.

"I thought they respected me, at least," he said to Dumbledore. "I realize that most of them don't especially like me, think me a bit dour--"

"You could do with a bit of cheer, Severus."

"Give me something to be cheerful about."

"Your son has been returned to you."

"Try again."

"Have a pumpkin tart, Severus."

With a snap of his hand Severus dismissed the proffered pastry. "The more points he loses for Gryffindor, the more popular he becomes. They are making an absolute mockery of the point system."

Dumbledore took a bite of the pumpkin tart that Severus had refused.

"You know, Severus," mused Dumbledore. "The point system was created to inspire the students to excellence, not to provide an outlet for parental frustration."

Severus froze.

"Of course, it is unusual, here at Hogwarts, for a teacher to be in your situation. We've had married--and widowed--professors before, and I expect that we shall continue to do so, but they typically send their children to other schools, or engage private tutors, in order to avoid the very dilemma which--"

"No."

"What's that, Severus?"

"Absolutely not." He turned sharply to Dumbledore, who looked at him with an air of mild curiosity. "Harry stays at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure, Severus?" he blandly inquired.

"Yes," Severus snapped. "I am sure."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, Severus. It appears you do have something to be cheerful about, after all." He turned back to his plate and had another bite of pumpkin tart. "It really is quite good, Severus, if only you will give it a chance."

Severus had a pumpkin tart.