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

Chapter 12: Forsaken




While Harry was being hoisted onto the shoulders of his teammates and paraded about the grounds, Severus slipped away to return, briefly, to the castle. He changed out of the clothes he'd worn for the match, then stepped outside as soon as everyone else at Hogwarts had gone to the Great Hall for dinner. Throwing his hood over his head, he hastened to the Forbidden Forest.


"Good. You're here." Deep into the forest, Severus stepped into a shadowed clearing. "I'm missing dinner on account of you."

"W-why, S-Severus, y-y-you were the one--"

"I know," snapped Severus.

"I d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places--"

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private. Students aren't supposed to know about the Stone, after all."

Quirrell began to fidget and mumble. "I-I-I'm sure I d-don't know w-w-what the S-Stone--I-I m-m-mean, there's n-nothing I--"

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's, yet?"

Quirrell started. "I-I'm sure I d-don't know--"

"Oh, yes, you do."

An owl hooted, and Quirrell jumped.

"Why Harry?" asked Severus in a deadly undertone.

"I-I d-d-don't--"

"The last match. Your little bit of hocus-pocus." Severus glared at Quirrell through narrowed eyes. "I'm waiting."

"I-I don't know w-what y-y-you--"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," intoned Severus, taking a step towards him.

Quirrell held up his hands, shaking from head to toe as he offered a sickly smile. "Oh, n-n-no, S-Sev-Severus, ev-everyone knows y-you're a-a-a g-g-g-good--"

"Only as long as I choose to be."

Quirrell blanched.

"Think it over, Quirrell," Severus softly concluded. "We'll be talking again soon." He spun on his heel and stalked away, out of the forest.


As he entered the castle, Severus caught Dumbledore in the corridor.

"I don't trust him," he muttered.

"Neither do I, Severus," murmured Dumbledore.

"Then why the bloody hell did you hire him? I swear, Dumbledore, for the most brilliant wizard of our day you sometimes--"

"You flatter me, Severus."

"I know." Severus folded his arms over his chest.

"Keep up the good work," said Dumbledore, stepping around Severus.


"Dragonfly wings." Severus paced the front of the classroom, looking over the faces of the Slytherins and Gryffindors. "I trust we've all read the section on dragonfly wings?"

Heads nodded, accompanied by a chorus of, "Yes, sir."

"Good." Severus pressed his lips in a thin line, pondering. "Evans," he called out.

Harry jumped in his seat, hastily sliding the Quidditch Times under his Potions textbook.

"Kindly tell us how best to prepare dragonfly wings for use in a potion."

"Yes, sir." Harry breathed in deeply, making a conspicuous effort not to tremble. "Dragonfly wings. For best results, generally, dragonfly wings should be added whole, neither chopped nor powdered."

"Very good, Evans." Severus gave a slight incline of his head. "Five points to Gryffindor."


Quidditch Times notwithstanding, Harry's academic performance had improved tenfold since he'd got his glasses. If he wasn't at the top of his class in Potions, he was doing respectably well, enough to make Severus rather proud of the boy. And Severus heard from Harry's other teachers that he was doing quite well in his other classes, even in History of Magic.

If only the boy were doing as well in spending time with his father.

He still came by to do homework, three evenings a week; but the boy was distant, preoccupied, and at times seemed almost wary of Severus. Severus felt as if he had been transported back to Harry's first days at Hogwarts. His son seemed to be pulling away, and Severus had no idea why.

He tried to find out, one Friday after Potions.

"Harry."

The boy halted by the door, but did not turn.

"A word with you, please."

Harry hesitated for a moment before saying, "Yes, sir," and turning.

Severus looked deeply into his son's eyes. "Is something troubling you, Harry?" he gently inquired.

"Troubling me?" echoed Harry. He suddenly brightened. "Oh, no, Professor, sir! Not at all, not at all!"

Severus frowned. "You're sure, Harry?"

"Yes, sir! I'm sure!"

"Very well." Severus nodded dismissal, and Harry spun about and bolted into the corridor.


It wasn't strictly true that Severus had no idea what his son's preoccupation might be. Harry spent a lot of time whispering with the Weasley boy--nothing new there--but of late he had begun to spend even more time whispering with the Granger girl. Time and again, at least once a day, Severus came upon them huddled together in some remote corner of a corridor, intent upon a quiet exchange that clearly they wished to keep to themselves.

No, not yet, protested Severus to himself. Preposterous. He's too young. It's not what it seems.

But he had read somewhere, hadn't he, that a boy without a mother might be... precocious, in that way. Seeking a substitute for the love of a mother he never knew.

Go on with you, Severus, and your amateur psychology.

He looked over to the photograph on the mantel.

"God, Lily, I wish you were here." Severus sighed, and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes.


On the Friday before Easter, Severus told Harry to set aside his studies for the afternoon; Harry appeared reluctant but complied without argument. Together the two of them walked from Hogwarts Castle to the cemetery in Hogsmeade.

Silently Severus studied the inscription on Lily's headstone--as if he hadn't long ago committed it to memory: LILY EVANS. 1960 - 1981. Beloved Wife and Mother.

Severus pressed his eyes closed, reminding himself to breathe.

"Do you think he wanted to kill you, too?" asked Harry.

Slowly Severus opened his eyes. "I think," he said, "that I was the one he meant to kill."

He glanced over at his boy, whose gaze was still fixed on the headstone.

"Why?" asked Harry in a whisper.

"Because..." Severus shifted his gaze to the clouds passing overhead.

Because I was the one who got away.

"I don't know," he said.

"Bollocks."

Severus looked sharply at Harry, who was looking just as sharply back up at him.

He felt his mouth twist. "Well, I don't. I think it was because I was a Slytherin. He had many enemies, but to my knowledge I was the only one from Slytherin who overtly opposed him."

"All the bad wizards come from Slytherin."

"Hardly." Severus snorted.

Silence fell over them. They stood, side by side, staring at the grave.

"Why'd you get rid of me?"

There it was.

"I was afraid." Severus could barely force the words out. "I couldn't bear to let you go--but I had to. To keep you safe. Away from me."

Another long silence passed.

"Didn't you even want to visit me?"

"Yes."

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes shining emerald in the sunlight.

Severus looked steadily into those eyes. "Almost from the moment I let Professor Dumbledore put you into their care, I wanted you back. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow it; he said I'd done the right thing, it was too dangerous--that having any contact at all was too dangerous. He said that for your sake I had to stay away. I'd see you again when you came to Hogwarts."

The boy's chin fell to his chest.

"Harry." Gently, with the tips of his fingers, Severus lifted the boy's chin. "It's all right."

The faintest hint of a smile trembled on the boy's lip. "Yes, sir," he said, more polite than convinced. "But, didn't Professor Dumbledore know it wasn't safe?"

It was a damned good question. Severus sighed.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore thought, as I did, that because you were family they would take good care of you."

Even as he said it, he was sure of no such thing, but the answer seemed to satisfy the boy.

"Come along, now." Severus put a hand on the boy's shoulder, leading him away from Lily's grave.