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

Chapter 5: Behaving



Severus was pleased to note that the house points badges were no longer in evidence on Gryffindor robes. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally managed to get through to the boy.

"He'll behave himself, now."

A whisper, overheard in passing. One of the Weasley twins, talking to a small group of fellow Gryffindors.

"Besides, once Harry starts kicking Slytherin arse in Quidditch there's no way we'll stay on the bottom of the house totals. Time for a change of strategy."

If he hadn't been pressed for time, Severus would have had a word or two. It wasn't until he was two floors away that he realized that he was the "he" to whom the twin had been referring.


"I am Jean Valjean!"

Charity Burbage looked up from her desk and laughed as Severus swooped into the room, his voice ringing out through the small office.

"Music for Muggle Studies, per your request." He set a box on the desk; it contained three colored glass spheres. "The blue one is Les Mis, the green one, traditional folk songs. The violet is a sampling of modern popular music influential in Muggle culture--Beatles, mostly, along with most of John Lennon's solo work. A good dose or two of 'Working Class Hero' would be in order, particularly for the Slytherins."

"Ah, yes. How goes the battle?"

"Uphill, as usual," said Severus. "I finally had to set a ward in place to prevent them from using pureblood as a password."

"Tsk." Charity shook her head. "Salazar Slytherin would be turning in his grave."

"Slytherin House needs to live in this century, not Salazar Slytherin's."

"Good luck. Lucius Malfoy accosted the headmaster in the corridor this morning."

"Ah, yes. I rather expected he might." To her quizzical expression, Severus responded, "Harry. But I'm sure he got in a jibe or two about my fitness, or lack thereof, to head Slytherin House."

"Harry," said Charity, smiling. "Such a delightful boy. You must be very proud."

It was a good thing he was no longer holding the box of glass spheres.

"Oh, don't look so shocked." Charity batted a hand dismissively. "Minerva says he's an absolute joy to have in her class--so polite and charming."

"Indeed," said Severus, finding he could again breathe.

"And Filius can't say enough in praise of him. A natural aptitude for the wand, he says."

Severus cleared his throat. "They--should have a care. Not to spoil him with too much praise."

Charity laughed.


The week passed without incident. Gryffindor's house point total remained abysmally low, but it was no longer in the negative figures. And the other three houses saw fit to engage in their share of mischief, narrowing the gap between Gryffindor and themselves. Severus spent a pleasant week, indeed, concentrating on Potions instead of on battling with his son. He supposed it had been too much to hope that Harry would go out of his way to talk to him, but at least the boy was behaving himself. If he appeared indifferent to his father, at least indifference was an improvement over smoldering hatred.

Patience, Severus told himself.


Friday morning Double Potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin, week four. For the first time that year, Severus actually looked forward to the class.

"--and sheep's bladder, in a pinch, can be substituted for--ahem. Evans."

Harry blinked and looked directly into his eyes.

"Kindly summarize the ingredients of the potion which I have just presented to the class."

Harry continued to stare back.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps if you had been paying attention, Evans, instead of gathering wool in the rafters, you--"

"There's no rafters in a dungeon."

His jaw dropped. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late to regain his dignity.

"Detention, Evans." It slipped out as a sigh of resignation. "Report to me at the High Table, directly following dinner."


They walked out of the Great Hall in silence. As they were descending into the dungeons, Severus spoke.

"I thought we'd reached an understanding, Harry."

More silence. Then:

"I just wanted to see the pictures again."

It was all Severus could do to refrain from bursting out laughing. Or weeping. Or both.

"My boy," he said, stopping and turning to face Harry. "You don't have to get detention in order to visit me in my rooms. All you have to do is ask."

Dear God, was it really that much of a revelation?

"Anyway," Severus raised an eyebrow, "how do you know I don't intend to make you scrub cauldrons all evening?"

Harry's eyes grew wide.

"Come on." Severus jerked his head, and Harry walked on with him. "I trust you have your homework with you?"

"Yes, sir."

Severus nodded. He opened the door and allowed Harry a minute or two to stand before the photographs.

"There's a desk," he at last said. "You may do your homework there."

Harry started, and glanced over to where Severus had put a desk by the wall opposite Severus' own table. "Thank you, Professor," he said.

Severus watched Harry walk over to the desk, drop his books, and settle in for an evening of study. "You're welcome, Harry."


Following a pleasant Saturday afternoon stroll through the grounds, Severus returned to the castle in time to see the Weasley boy pounce on Draco Malfoy.

"Causing trouble again, Malfoy?"

The Weasley boy sprang away, his face as red as his hair.

"Me?" protested Malfoy, staring at Severus in outrage. "He's the one--"

"In my considerable experience, Malfoy, the squeaky wheel is almost invariably the symptom, not the source, of the conflict. Detention, seven p.m. sharp. In the Potions classroom. Wear old clothing."