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

Chapter 13: Here Be There Dragons




"Quirrell is after the Stone. I would stake my life upon it."

"Let us hope, Severus, that it does not come to that."

Severus slammed the door behind him. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Severus." Dumbledore glanced up briefly from his journal. "I am listening to you."

"Then do something about it!" Both fists landed on the desk, tipping the bowl of lemon drops. "The Stone ought never to have been brought onto the premises of Hogwarts."

"That is between myself and Nicolas Flamel," said Dumbledore, setting the lemon drops, one by one, back into the dish.

"It's only a matter of time until Quirrell gets Hagrid to open up. And I think that--Hagrid's dog is the only thing standing between Quirrell and the Stone. And if Quirrell is serving whom you think he's serving--"

"I would not be at all surprised if he is," concurred Dumbledore.

"Then why the hell haven't you had the Stone removed?" cried Severus, leaning forward sharply.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore mildly remonstrated.

Severus stood upright and stepped back slightly. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I implore you: Remove the Stone from Hogwarts before one of the students is harmed--or worse."

Dumbledore gazed placidly into Severus' eyes. "That is between myself and Nicolas Flamel," he repeated. "Now, I believe Professor Quirrell is planning an excursion into Hogsmeade this evening. I suggest you do likewise."

Severus stared at Dumbledore for a long moment, then snapped his head once and turned away.


Why did it seem as if all the year's work piled on at the very end? And when the hell was he supposed to get it done, when he had to spend most of his free time traipsing after the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Severus slipped into the Hog's Head, a stack of N.E.W.T.-level essays under one arm. He allowed himself one drink but barely touched it: Under pretext of marking essays, he was keeping a close eye on the cloaked, hooded figure across the room.

Idiot, thought Severus. The weather was like summer. Then again, Quirrell had been looking peaked lately, and rather frail; perhaps he was easily chilled. Or was he hiding? But from whom? For what?

Severus waited, keeping one eye on Quirrell while he kept the other on the abominations he was marking to dash the hopes of overly-optimistic seventh years. Hadn't he prepared them better than that? They didn't have a prayer to pass their N.E.W.T.s, not a one. He pressed his lips together, absently tracing them with the tip of his finger whilst he fretted for his seventh years and feared his own tutorial inadequacy and wondered what the hell Quirrell was doing sitting in the Hog's Head pursuing solitary inebriation under cover of cloak and hood. One would expect that he expected to meet somebody, but two hours passed and nobody arrived. Finally, after the third hour had passed, Severus decided he had better things to do than sit all night in a pub watching Quirrell drink. He gathered the essays, now covered in red ink, and set out for home.


"Three hours of drinking, and not a single piss," reported Severus to Dumbledore, who happened to be waiting near the entrance to the castle.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You or Quirrell?"

"You know I don't drink when I'm working. Good night." Severus brushed past him and headed down into the dungeons.


Exams were less than two months away. Severus wondered how he would possibly be ready. Following Quirrell, reporting to Dumbledore; arguing with Dumbledore, struggling to converse with Harry. Severus had hoped that Easter had brought them closer again, him and his boy, but Harry remained occupied with his friends.

They were thicker than ever, those three: Harry and the Weasley boy and the Granger girl. Especially Harry and the Granger girl. He really ought to have a talk with Harry about it, Severus thought, but Harry insisted everything was fine.

"We've got loads and loads of homework," he explained. "Boatloads of homework. Shitloads of--"

"That will do, Harry."

Harry shrugged and turned back to his notes.

"So that's what you've been talking about," persisted Severus. "Homework."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded vigorously, leaning more closely towards the page.


Quirrell... Harry... homework... sleep... sleep...

Pounding, pounding, pounding...

Severus pulled the blanket over his head, then buried his head under the pillow, but the pounding would not go away. Grumbling, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the door. "For the love of--Minerva, it's the middle of--"

"I am quite aware of the time, Severus." Minerva's voice was harsh, and the glare in her eyes nearly blinded him. "Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy, here, seems to think that midnight is a fine time to be wandering the halls of Hogwarts. He had the audacity to claim that your--that young Evans has a dragon, of all things!"

Severus looked from Minerva to the boy cowering at her side. It took a great deal of discipline for Severus to refrain from looking as if he'd just swallowed rancid pumpkin juice.

"I will leave it to you to address the matter," Minerva crisply concluded. "I have already awarded him a detention and taken twenty points from Slytherin, but I thought you also ought to have a word with him."

"Thank you, Minerva. That will do." He watched as Minerva walked away, then turned to the boy.

"A dragon," repeated Severus, his eyes boring into the Malfoy twit. "I realize, Draco, that you don't much like Harry--and I can assure you that your sentiments are more than amply reciprocated--but if you are seeking to cast aspersions upon him, the least you can do is trouble yourself to invent a credible story."

"But--Professor, sir! He did--he does--I saw it!"

"Even assuming it were true, it still does not explain--nor justify--why you are wandering about in the middle of the night." Severus arched an eyebrow. "Professor McGonagall was lenient. I think another twenty points from Slytherin are in order."

Malfoy's jaw dropped, but he quickly clamped it shut, scowling. "Nepotism," he muttered.

"Make that thirty points, Mr. Malfoy. Fifty points, total, you've lost for our house this night--more if you don't take the hint and quit while you're behind. You deserve another detention, as well, but right this minute I can't abide the prospect of having to spend still more time looking at your face." And with those words, Severus grabbed the boy by the arm and escorted him back to the Slytherin dormitories.


He had just begun to sink into sleep when the pounding began again.

"Nobody's home," he called out.

"Severus!" Minerva again. "I need to have a word with you about Harry."

Oh, hell.

He opened the door to face a livid Minerva McGonagall.

"Harry and Miss Granger were in the Astronomy Tower. At one in the morning."

God, no...

Severus raised his eyebrows. "A bit young for that, aren't they?"

"Severus."

"Well, what else--"

"They apparently fed Mr. Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, hoping to get him in trouble. And, thanks to them, Mr. Longbottom was also out of bed, trying to find them because he had overheard Mr. Malfoy saying he was going to catch them with their dragon."

Severus shook his head, rubbing his eyelids with his fingertips. "And?"

"And I thought, perhaps, being Harry's father, you might wish to have a word or two with your son."

"Don't blame me, Minerva," snapped Severus, looking up. "I certainly didn't put the idea in his head."

"I said nothing of the sort," she retorted. "But I will say that your famed severity with students seems to have considerably softened when matters concern Harry."

"Are you accusing me of favoritism, Minerva?"

"No, Severus. I am simply suggesting that you have a greater care to avoid the appearance of favoritism."

He stared at her. "Lucius Malfoy," he said.

She did not need to answer.

"All right," he said. "I trust you've already meted out the appropriate consequences, as his head of house?"

"Fifty points each. Harry, Granger, and Longbottom."

"Fifty?"

"Each. And detentions."

"Don't you think you were being a bit harsh, Minerva? At least with Longbottom?"

Her eyes hardened. "How I manage my house, Severus, is my affair."

"Of course, Minerva. I shall have a word with Harry, first thing."


His first instinct was to await Harry at the entrance to the Gryffindor rooms, but walking by the giant hourglasses that tallied house points--and noting the conspicuous absence of rubies in Gryffindor's--Severus decided to first let Harry sit through breakfast.

Breakfast, for Harry, proved to be far more punishment than a week's detentions would have been. Severus exerted great effort to keep his expression impassive, watching his much-adored boy become an outcast overnight. Fickle bastards. Only the Weasleys seemed to be standing by Harry and the other two. The Weasley twins made a half-hearted attempt to revive How low can we go? but nobody was buying. Gryffindor had been certain to win the house cup--thanks to Harry, Severus wryly observed to himself--and racing to the bottom had quite lost its appeal.

Minerva, to her credit, did not attempt to engage Severus in conversation.

Several bites of toast, dry, were the sum total of his breakfast that morning. As the plates were cleared, Severus rose and walked down to the Gryffindor table.

"Come with me."

Harry, who could not bring himself to look him in the eye, nodded and followed.


"Sit."

Harry sank to the end of the sofa. Severus sat at the other end, turning just enough to face Harry.

"Well, Harry," Severus began. "I did not sleep very well last night."

Harry stared at the floor. "Neither did I. Sir."

"I imagine not." He drew a deep breath. "I should like to know what you and your friend were doing in the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night."

Harry shrugged.

"Look at me."

Reluctantly, Harry obeyed.

"The truth, Harry."

"I can't say."

"Harry."

"I promised! Sir."

Severus looked at the boy for several long moments before answering, "I release you from your promise. I want the truth. Now."

At least Remus would have his answer about teams and batting.

Blinking, Harry seemed to struggle before giving in. "Giving a dragon to Ron's brother Charlie. He flew in to meet us."

Severus held the boy's eyes in his gaze. Damned if the boy didn't seem to be telling the truth.

"And where, pray tell," Severus quietly intoned, "did you obtain a dragon?"

"I can't say."

"Harry."

"I can't! He'll get in trouble!"

"He?"

But of course.

"Never mind, Harry. That will do." Damn Hagrid and his damned menagerie. Sending children to do his work--and where the hell had he got--

Severus pondered. "You realize, Harry, that I can do nothing to reverse Professor McGonagall's decision."

Harry lowered his head. "Yes, sir."

"However. I may be able to provide you with an opportunity to earn a few points for Gryffindor--if you are willing to work."

The boy looked up, trying not to appear too hopeful.

"What is the current house points total for Gryffindor?"

All hope drained from the boy's face. "Negative forty-seven," he said, barely above a whisper.

Severus nodded. "Well. It won't be enough to restore Gryffindor to its former standing, but if you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Longbottom are willing to spend a Saturday getting my office in order, the points you earn should at least help bring Gryffindor out of the negative figures."

Excitement flashed, but was quickly replaced with doubt. "Is that nepotism, sir?"

A thousand plagues upon the house of Malfoy.

"No, Harry," Severus firmly replied. "It is giving you an opportunity to make amends."

"What about Slytherin?"

"What about Slytherin?"

"Are you going to give Malfoy a chance to make amends, too?"

"How I manage my own house, Harry, is my affair."

Harry nodded. "Still, it doesn't seem quite fair. Sir."

Severus looked sharply at the boy, appraising. "It is eminently fair," he said. "Draco Malfoy is an arse-kissing weasel whose sole motivation was to get you and your friends in trouble and to make himself look good."

Harry laughed.

"You will not repeat that," Severus sternly admonished. "To anyone."

"Yes, sir." The voice was respectful, but there was mischief in those eyes. "And thank you, sir."


What were a few house points, thought Severus, in exchange for not having to be the one to sort through the chaos that he called an office.

Crash.

"Clean it up, Longbottom," drawled Severus, not bothering to look up from the journal he was reading.

"I--um--sorry, Professor Evans."

"Just clean it up. And make a note of what it was so I can replace it."

He read another paragraph before Longbottom hesitantly broke in, "Um, Professor, sir? I'm not sure..."

Severus had a look.

"Accio, textbook." The first year Potions book flew into his hand. "Exams are a month and a half away, Longbottom. If you don't know, you'd better look it up."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, taking the book.

Longbottom reminded him in many ways of Derrick. Except that Derrick's parents had not been driven into Cruciatus-induced madness by Voldemort's followers.

"Oh, honestly, Neville, it's--"

"Miss Granger." Severus shot a stern glance at her. "Let Mr. Longbottom do his own homework."

She bit her tongue, but clearly it was costing her to do so.

"How are the journals coming along?"

"Organized by title, alphabetically, and by volume and number within each title," she promptly answered.

"Good. And the shelves, dusted?"

"Of course," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes, sir."

"Yes, sir. I'm not stupid, sir."

"A fact of which you never fail to remind me, Miss Granger."

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I--" The boy looked up from the box of papers which he was sorting. "Can I keep this?" he asked, holding up a photograph.

Severus felt the wind go out of him.

"Sir?"

"Let me see," he said hoarsely. Harry handed the picture to him. "How did this get in there?"

"I really don't know, sir."

Severus looked at Harry over the top of his reading glasses. "I didn't think you should."

"Is that--?"

"Our wedding. Or, rather, the wedding party, afterwards. Come here." Harry scrambled to his feet and stood by Severus. "There's your mother, of course, and me--see, I do sometimes wear something other than black."

Harry grinned. "And who's that?"

"Remus," he said. "My best man, and your godfather."

"Oh." Harry fell silent, studying the image with keen interest.

"You'll meet him soon," promised Severus. "He's rather hard to pin down. Always going to London. Oh, and Neville--it's on page three hundred twenty-two, but never mind that, just now; come here." Neville abandoned the book, along with the contents of the broken jar, and joined Harry. "There's your mum, and your dad. They got married two weeks after we did," said Severus, forcing a bright tone into his voice. "There were a lot of weddings that summer."

The Longbottom boy just stared at the photograph, his face torn between wonder and grief, as if viewing something out of a tale that never could come true.

"Anyway." Severus handed the picture to Harry. "Yes, Harry, you may keep it. Put it on my desk till you've done with the cleaning."

Harry did as he was told, but lingered by the desk. "Is that your mum?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry. She died two years ago." The finality in his tone was unmistakable, even to a stubborn, slow-to-take-the-hint eleven year old boy. Harry nodded slowly and went back to sorting.


Severus stood in the center of the office, turning slowly and surveying while the three children anxiously waited upon his verdict.

"That will do." He gave a crisp nod. "Yes, much improved. I'd say twenty points to Gryffindor are in order." He couldn't resist glancing at each of the faces looking up at him; they were trying so hard to be thankful instead of disappointed. "Twenty points each," he added, and was rewarded with broad grins. "And another ten points," he looked pointedly at Longbottom, "for diligence."


"Seventy points, Severus." Minerva spoke quietly, so that only Severus could hear her as they picked at their dinner. "If Lucius Malfoy comes calling, I will send him directly to you."

"Seventy points earned, Minerva," countered Severus. "They spent the entire day cleaning my office. I'd have granted more, had I dared."

"I think seventy points will more than suffice."

"Gryffindor is still in last place."

"The point, Severus, was to impress upon them the dangers of wandering the halls of Hogwarts under the present circumstances."

Severus glanced quickly to his other side before fixing his eyes on Minerva. "Perhaps then the remedy, Minerva, is to remove the dangers instead of house points."

She looked pointedly over his shoulder, where Dumbledore was delivering a spirited monologue to Quirrell, before looking back into his eyes. "We will speak of this later."