Author’s note: As many of you know, I am currently working on two projects: My brother cross-over stories (‘Leave Me’ and ‘A life worth living’) and the outtakes from my story ‘Trust Me’. Recently I have been able to resume writing (after a 4 month break), with the intention of posting another chapter of ‘Leave Me’. This particular chapter was meant to cover years 1 to 4 of Harry’s schooling from Severus’ point of view, because I desperately wanted to briefly explore the role Severus played in the significant events Harry experienced during the first four years of his time at Hogwarts. What was originally meant to be a normal-sized chapter has become a story almost in and of itself. It was not long before I realised just how much Severus would have contributed (behind the scenes) during those four years, and I wanted to do it justice. So, this is the first chapter of what has now become ‘The Struggles of a Spy’ which is basically Severus’ POV of the various events that occurred during The Philosopher’s Stone.
Please note that you do NOT need to read ‘Leave Me’ to understand this chapter as it is purely canon based. The only exception to this will be chapters 3 and 4, but I will explain this when I manage to post up these chapters. For those of you who do read ‘Leave Me’, I will only update that story once all four chapters of this one have been completed- I will then combine them into one document and post it as a (very long) chapter under ‘Leave Me’. So this little story means you don’t have to wait as long!
Enough chat for now; I really hope you enjoy my interpretation of what Severus went through during Harry’s first year at Hogwarts.
Happy reading!
‘The Struggles of a Spy’
Chapter 1- The Philosopher’s Stone
Severus’ POV
Traditionally ‘The Sorting’ had been a mildly interesting event at best. The only real interest I had in it was the opportunity to take a good look at the newest members of Slytherin House, especially if I knew them to be the offspring of Death Eaters. My colleagues generally took more interest in the occasion than I did, or at least they appeared to by leaning further forward in their chairs with wide, inquisitive eyes. The conversations that took place at the staff table were usually uneventful as the professors discussed their curriculum or a particular student who had caused them grief the previous year. I would usually engage in such banter to ensure I did not offend my colleagues by appearing indifferent to their concerns. Such was the routine I had grown accustomed to over the years as a member of staff during the Sorting Ceremony.
But this Sorting was different.
As I entered the Great Hall and sat down in my usual position at the staff table, I heard exuberant whispers coming from my fellow professors. I had hoped to hear the usual talk of our subjects and gossip about the talented and far less so students that graced our classes, but I was severely disappointed.
“Of course he’ll be in Gryffindor!” Filius asserted in his high pitched voice to Pomona who was seated on his right.
“I wonder who he will look like- will we recognise him do you think?”
“Surely that infamous scar of his will assist us there.”
I sighed heavily; this was going to be a long night.
By this stage, the remainder of the school except for the first years had entered the hall, and it seemed that everyone was leeching off the excitement of those around them. The volume of speech was ringing in my ears, and by the time the Great Hall’s large doors opened and the first years were led in by Minerva, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Although we have never stood up for the first year procession, half of my colleagues could not contain themselves, and the professor on either side of me were squatting above their seats in the hope of spotting Harry Potter first. I was sorry to observe that a few of my colleagues were far from subtle about it. I was composed enough to remain in my seat but found myself perhaps just as eager to find Mr Potter in an attempt to ease my anticipation. I scanned the sea of heads and within only four seconds I had found ‘The Chosen One’. I could not see his face clearly, but his unruly black hair and glasses were uncannily similar to his father’s silhouette.
So this was the boy I had agreed to protect… this was Lily’s son.
When he gazed up at our table all I could see was his good-for-nothing father… my nemesis… the man who made so many of my young years a living hell. His face and his hair were a mockery of his father’s and I knew at that moment that this Potter would be no different: arrogant, cruel, and sporting a tremendous sized head. His being sorted into Gryffindor was no surprise, given both of his parents were perceived by our world as being the ‘truest’ of Gryffindors.
During the welcome feast I was meant to be conversing with Quirrell to discover more about his trip to Albania (all by design, of course). The night before, Albus had asked me to “keep an eye on Quirrell”, but was unwilling to explain why I was given the task and why he gave Quirrell the DADA position. Upon first broaching the topic with the now Defence against the Dark Arts professor, he was rather illusive as to why he was now sporting a large purple turban. Somehow I felt the appearance of his turban and his recent position as DADA professor was connected, but it frustrated me that Albus had knowingly placed a long standing professor of Hogwarts in a cursed position that would result in his leaving Hogwarts by the end of the year.
Why would Albus do that?
Although these concerns were frequently on my mind, I regret to admit that none of this bothered me when Potter was in my presence. I watched him like a hawk, stared at him, perhaps excessively, but I was waiting to see more of James: my tormentor, my nemesis- anything to give me a reason to hate this kid as much I did his father. Every feeling I possessed for Lily was overshadowed by the sheer hatred I felt for the late James Potter who, by some twist of fate, had managed to continue mocking me even in his death.
Unfortunately, as most students are on their first day, Potter was well-behaved and had already developed allies and perhaps even friends in his house. He received all the attention I thought ‘the Boy who Lived’ would, which made me sick.
Dissatisfied with what I had learnt of the boy that first night, I was pathologically eager to have him in my classroom. On that ‘blessed’ day, I planned to run my lesson as I had in previous years and pretend that Potter’s striking resemblance to his father or his being ‘the Chosen One’ meant nothing to me.
Indifference was my goal.
I entered my classroom in my usual dramatic manner which I reserved especially for first years, and stalked to the front of the class. I then turned around- and froze. There amongst the brown and blue orbs sat a pair of emerald green, almond shaped eyes- Lily’s eyes- watching me. My intentions had all but evaporated. I continued to speak my usual script which I thankfully knew by heart after 10 years of teaching (heaven forbid my students noticed my being phased by anything), but the rest of my mind was struggling.
He had to have her eyes.
Of course he did.
Within a couple of short minutes I was sure I felt angry, and yet the emotion was lost on me in that moment. Retrospectively I now understood where that anger was unjustly aimed: at Lily and James for ever having a child, and at Albus for asking me to protect that child.
It took me a long time to realise that the person I was most angry with was myself for feeling anything at all. I still loved her after all these years, and even though her eyes were now within James’ face (for all intents and purposes) they were still the eyes I fell in love with. Even in death, the Potters continued to haunt me, and it scared me that they still had that influence over me. From that day forward, I struggled with the stark contrast between my love for those eyes and my hatred for everything else about that boy. I was certain the next 7 years would be Hell for me.
I shared my sentiments with Albus by means of insulting Potter’s arrogance, his mediocre knowledge of our world, as well as unleashing the greatest insult of all: being his father ‘all over again’. Albus managed to conveniently dismiss my tirade, and instead reminded me to keep an eye on Quirrell for him, yet still refusing to explain what he suspected.
And I knew he suspected something…
~~~~PS~~~~
I was in excruciating pain.
Yes, I should have known better than to follow Quirrell into the third floor corridor; I knew what creature prowled just beyond the doors.
But I desperately wanted to catch him in the act so he could no longer pretend that he was an innocent victim in all of this. And I was incredibly close, but the moment I entered the room, hot on Quirrell’s metaphorical tail, said man was running towards me to escape the three headed dog snapping at his back. Unfortunately, this left me victim to the attack that was meant for him. I attempted to run, but the dog managed to grab my left calf between its teeth. I flung a stunning spell in between its eyes which thankfully caused it to release my leg, and I managed to hobble out and slam the door behind me before the creature could recover.
This is what happens when one agrees to do “anything” in order to redeem oneself; your leg almost becomes a snack for a gigantic mutt!
Bloody Albus- I felt like limping to his office, dripping blood all over the floor to show him how much I sacrifice just to be his eyes and ears.
Of course, it was now perfectly clear what Quirrell was doing, though the true intention behind his behaviour was still a mystery to me.
Quirrell intentionally released the troll as a diversion for his true motive: to enter the third floor undetected by staff and students so he could retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone. Of course, I was not blinded by his plan, so chose to follow him… much to my detriment.
I bandaged my leg haphazardly with magic (I decided against the far more dramatic entrance I had considered), so I could reach the Headmaster’s office as promptly as possible. I did not know where Quirrell had retreated to after realising I had followed his movements, but I imagined he would be in his office, dreading when I would confront him about his motives. I did not believe he would return to try again so soon, but I left a detector spell outside the corridor just in case.
I was forced to wait outside Albus’ office until he returned from a meeting with the staff; satisfied that all of his students were safe and in their common rooms. When I informed the Headmaster of what I had discovered about Quirrell’s treachery, it caused Albus momentary quiet, but he did not appear overly surprised- a minute reaction compared to the one I thought I would receive.
Had I endured this blasted injury for nothing?
Albus’ insisted that the knowledge I provided him was in fact highly valuable, but I did not believe him; he knew more than he was letting on, and quite frankly, what else was new? What I did know was my calf was beginning to sting uncomfortably, and I feared I would not be able to walk on it unless I received prompt medical attention.
I shifted uncomfortably on my leg, and after explaining how I obtained my injury, Albus saw fit to mend my wound as best as magic would allow (there is only so much that can be done for a mangled calf muscle, even in the wizarding world) whilst he informed me of ‘a change in plan’ now that we had proof that Quirrell was taking significant risks (and placing staff and students in potential danger) in order to enter the third floor. The evidence we had collected proved that Quirrell was attempting to retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone (why else would someone willingly enter the third floor and face that monstrous dog?), but the question that remained is why a respectable, generally trustworthy member of staff would suddenly demonstrate such a strong desire to betray Albus by stealing such a powerful substance?
Naturally, Quirrell’s role in the troll fiasco was not to be known to anyone except myself and Albus, which infuriated me to no end. Not only had Quirrell had played victim that night, running into the Great Hall too pathetic to protect himself, but Potter had somehow managed to be nearly pummelled by the creature had it not been for Miss Granger’s quick thinking. Clearly Quirrell was putting on an act so he would not be suspected. Regardless, my task had increased in complexity; not only was I to confront Quirrell the following day to probe him further, but I was to keep a closer track of Potter’s whereabouts.
I left Albus’ office with a heavy limp. Thankfully, the headmaster was able to relieve the pain I felt when I walked, but that did not stop it from appearing disgusting and uncomfortable to move. I knew the students would notice my limp almost immediately, but Potter seemed to take particular interest in it. I overheard him and Weasley discussing it under their breath as I passed them in the corridor and again in my very classroom the following day. All of the students should have been ignorant of where I sustained my injury, but Potter and his friends seemed to know somehow. I had an unnerving feeling that they knew about ‘Fluffy’ (a ridiculous name for such a creature) most likely from speaking with Hagrid, but if that were so, what else did they know about the three-headed dog and its role in protecting the Philosopher’s Stone? I resolved to keep an even closer eye on Potter when I could to ensure he did not endeavour to look deeper into where I had sustained my injury.
But as luck would have it, Hagrid was not the only one who had provided Potter with information he should not have heard. Two days following the incident, I had elicited Filch’s assistance in examining and dabbing at the bite mark with disinfectant to ensure the flesh would not become infected. As we were conversing, I too made the mistake of discussing the difficulties of “keeping an eye on all three heads at once” to Filch when Potter happened to be standing at my office door hoping to get his bloody book back. Surprised by his appearing there and frustrated with myself for speaking so openly about a creature that should not even be discussed except behind closed and locked doors, I reacted by demanding Potter leave my office.
I found it difficult to calm down for some time afterwards.
What did the boy know prior to seeing my mangled leg?
What had he now surmised given the injury I had sustained?
Did he believe I was trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone? Did he even know what the Stone was or what Fluffy is protecting?
I returned to Albus’ office that evening to inform him of what Potter had walked in on. Again, Albus was not disturbed by this news, and seemed to think that Potter’s suspicions would be confirmed by what he had seen, rather than add any new information to his repertoire.
After expressing my frustration at not being informed of this two days ago, Professor Dumbledore informed me that Potter was not only aware of Fluffy but was intrigued by what she was protecting, which meant that I was to keep Potter away from the third floor at all costs…
This resulted in my following two people: Quirrell and Potter. For the first time in years, I felt like the spy I was, and thankfully being silent and inconspicuous comes naturally to me.
Potter was reasonably easy to follow, and although I tried to do it discreetly, I was concerned he would begin to question whether I was trying to protect him. However, Albus reassured me that Potter’s first interpretation would be that I was trying to catch him disobeying the rules (which I was inclined to do and had done multiple times already), rather than question whether I had more admirable motives. I smirked at this, satisfied that even Albus believed Potter found me intimidating and cruel.
Time for payback, Potter, I thought to myself.
I eventually managed to confront Quirrell; he had spent the good part of a week evading me.
He played ignorant and refused to concede that he was in the third floor corridor at all. I was frustrated with him but I knew Legilimency would be useless against him despite his nervous quivers and stutter. Instead, I threatened him and reminded him that he did not want me as his enemy. His demeanour was pitiful and weak and his stutter particularly bad when I cornered him. I sensed he was nervous and uncertain how to defend himself. At times I wondered whether he was being forced to do someone else’s bidding, but never would I have suspected the truth…
~~~~PS~~~~
If the Dark Lord does not kill him, I will.
That stupid boy and his even more foolish friends…
I knew they were not there, but nevertheless, my body could not help but check the Gryffindor common room once again using a charm that could detect a specific student in any room within the school. I had hoped (foolishly) that I would feel the desired pull towards the common room, but felt nothing.
I was forced to conclude that Potter and his two companions were missing.
Well- ‘missing’ would imply I did not know where they were, but I did, and for his disobedience, I hoped (again foolishly) that Albus would discipline him for it.
That boy’s nose knew no bounds when it came to other’s secrets. If Potter were a cat, the well-known saying would apply to him; curiosity will kill that boy and I’ll be the one responsible. Just you wait and see.
I walked as fast as I could towards the third floor, forcing myself not to panic or yell into the silence at the ever absent Albus who had, of course, left the school for the night. What a situation he has left me in! I growled in frustration as I flew down the corridor with the intention of going down the trapdoor myself and drag that ungrateful child from its depths.
Of course, it had no escaped my notice that Quirrell was similarly ‘missing’; he was not pacing in his quarters like he ought to be. He was undoubtedly involved in all of this; I was certain he was not looking for the boy like I was; he was after the stone.
The pit in my stomach grew. My body was telling me, before my mind could, that Quirrell had planned to retrieve it tonight- he likely sent the message to Albus (a fool for obeying I; he should have known better)- to get him ‘out of the way’. Potter must have heard of this plan somehow and decided to stop Quirrell himself.
Words cannot describe how I felt towards Potter for taking it upon his own initiative to stop Quirrell from taking the stone. For a first year to even consider entering such a room housing such a dog was ridiculous. It would have been easy to be mad at the boy and focus solely on this as I ran towards the third level of school. However, I needed to consider what I was about to do- what I would find at the end: The Mirror of Erised. I could not risk going down there in case the mirror provided me with the Stone (which it may well do given I did not want to use it), and I was, by some miracle, defeated by Quirrell. It was far too risky, but what other choice did I have? Within seconds I had managed to convince myself that I needed to try and pursue them- to save Potter, if nothing else- Albus would want me to do that.
As I continued to glide towards my destination, I pondered further about Quirrell: was he already in the final chamber? Who did he hope to give the stone to and what would they do with it?
I halted in my tracks.
I cannot go down there.
The conclusion I had drawn seemed impossible- had to be impossible. However, Quirrell’s trip to Albania, the mysterious turban on his head, Potter’s scar hurting whenever he was in Quirrell’s presence, the knowledge Albus had shared with me 10 years before…
It’s impossible, I tried to convince myself, as I stood stationary in the middle of the fourth floor. It’s impossible.
And perhaps it was, but there was no one else I could think of who would want that Stone; who would dare attempt to break into Gringotts or snatch it from right under Albus’ nose except…
The Dark Lord.
I searched my memories trying to determine if Quirrell was loyal to the Dark Lord prior to his downfall. Did I ever hear mention of him? I never remembered hearing his name prior to working at Hogwarts. Had my former master possessed Quirrell like a parasite? Did Quirrell realise what was happening?
Did Albus know?
I had several questions to which I could provide no sufficient answer. But what I did know was that I could not ‘rescue’ the boy and his friends. If Quirrell and the Dark Lord were somehow connected, and if the latter revealed himself to me, I could not save Potter if I wanted to remain a spy. I could not take that risk and yet, I did not know what else I could do; I had no idea whether Potter and his friends were still living or how far they had progressed through the tasks. What if Albus was wrong and Quirrell could get the stone? What if Potter arrived at the final chamber, was given the Stone to protect because he does not want to use it, and then Quirrell kills the boy in the order to get it?
Damn it, Albus; you should be here! I shouted at him in my mind. But he was not and the responsibility of the boy, his friends, and the Stone lay with me.
I considered many options: to wake another staff member and ask them to pursue Potter whilst I contacted Albus via… owl?
Too slow.
Patronus?
Too risky- I would be discovered. But what choice did I have? I needed to tell Albus what happening, slow or not. As much as I detested it, I ran in the opposite direction of where I had been heading- straight to the Owlery. I felt helpless in this moment; the one individual who posed the most risk to Potter was the one individual I was unable to actively protect him from.
As I ran, I conjured a piece of parchment and a loaded quill. I hastily wrote a letter to Albus, my writing barely legible as each stroke moved with my stride.
Albus, I wrote, anger and indignation rising within me as I felt the sense of betrayal flow through my veins; if he had told me his suspicions with regard to Quirrell being connected with the Dark Lord, for I was sure he knew, I could have been better prepared for this sequence of events.
Return to the school at once; both of them are down there.
SS
The moment I set foot within the Owlery, I called one of the Tawny owls to me, strapped the parchment onto its leg and encouraged its flight within a matter of seconds.
I allowed myself half a minute to make sure the owl continued to fly in the direction of the ministry and that Quirrell hadn’t managed to intercept my communication to Albus, before turning on my heel and flying down the staircase. Without being conscious of my decision, I found myself heading towards Minerva’s office. As the Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor House she needed to be notified of what I suspected to be taking place. If truth be known, she should have been alerted to my suspicions far sooner than this, but my mind was too scattered to think of something so logical.
What would I say to her? I had no proof of their location, only that they could not be found. Would Minerva insist she search for them herself? Or would she heed my request to head straight for the third floor? Would she believe Potter capable, or perhaps daring enough to face our obstacles? I had to hope.
Without another thought, I knocked on Minerva’s door and stared at the handle in anticipation in an attempt to ignore the duelling Potters and Quirrrells that were reeling through my mind. As always, the Deputy Headmistress was prompt to answer her door and had clearly been on her way to bed.
“Professor Snape!” she asserted evidently surprised to see me. “What is the matter?”
“Some of your students are missing,” I told her matter-of-factly, hoping this would gain her utmost attention so she would obey the advice that was about to follow.
“Who?” she demanded, as she quickly tied her nightgown.
Take a wild guess, I thought bitterly.
“Potter, Weasley and Granger,” I replied indifferently. “I have been searching for them for the last-”
I stopped speaking when I saw Minerva’s gaze leave my face to examine something in the distance.
“I fear,” she began, as I turned around, “that you must have overlooked them.”
I was seething. There, running towards us were Weasley and Granger looking both panicked and exhausted.
Their untimely appearance and how ridiculous this made me appear was soon lost when I fully comprehended the absence of the boy I was supposed to be protecting.
Simultaneously, Minerva and I spoke:
“Where have you been?”
“Where is Potter?”
And as luck would have it, Granger answered the Head of her house, whereas Weasley answered my query.
“He’s still down there facing…” and then paled as if he had just remembered something. Without clarifying his expression, he nudged Hermione and said without much subtlety.
“If Snape is here, then who?”
Quirrell.
“It doesn’t matter, Ron,” Hermione insisted, turning red with embarrassment, realising, unlike her friend that they were speaking about me within my earshot. “Professor Dumbledore will take care of it,” she said confidently.
“Albus is here?” We asked.
“Yes, we ran into him-”
“Literally,” Weasley added.
“As we were heading towards the Owlery to send him a message,” she continued as if she had not been interrupted. “He was running towards the third floor when we last saw him.”
I was relieved that Albus had returned to the school and (hopefully) had control of the situation. I knew it would be some time before I would discover the outcome of Potter’s ‘adventure’.
I left Professor McGonagall to deal with her students whilst I walked towards my quarters as I also needed to get ready for the night. Of course, this did not stop me from dwelling on the events that may have taken place. How far had Potter gotten before Albus caught up to him? I did not think to ask his friends where they had left him before managing their own escape; surely they had not left Potter willingly.
Half an hour later, Albus’ Patronus bathed my quarters with its presence, with a message from Albus requesting I meet him in his office immediately. Apparently he would need to return to the Hospital Wing shortly. Taking this to mean that Potter was, at the very least, still alive, I swiftly left my office, locking it behind me, and journeyed towards the Headmaster’s office, wondering what I was about to hear.
~~~~ PS ~~~~
“You found him where?!” I asked loudly, half in indignation, the other in complete shock.
Albus smiled grimly at me. “In the final chamber, Severus, with the Philosopher’s Stone in his hand, no less,” he chuckled.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.
“Indeed,” Albus laughed, but then the humour left his eyes and I knew he wanted to move to the more serious aspect of this situation. “He is currently resting in the hospital wing; he has been through quite an ordeal.”
“Do you know what happened?” I asked, intensely curious for multiple reasons.
“Based on what Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have told me, and given the scene I witnessed when I arrived, I believe I do,” Albus replied modestly.
“Well?”
The Headmaster recounted Weasley and Granger’s story of how they managed (miraculously) to get through each of the tasks the staff of Hogwarts had put in place to protect the Stone. It was not until Minerva’s chess game that they had difficulty, and Weasley was knocked unconscious. Potter and Granger continued forward until they reached my own test of logic. It surprised me that Granger managed to solve the riddle, allowing herself to exit the fire safely and for Potter to continue forward into the final chamber. Albus then assumed Potter would have come face-to-face with Quirrell, who was presumably struggling to obtain the Stone from the mirror. It was not clear to Albus exactly what happened next, but he ultimately found Potter unconscious but alive on the tiles with the Stone lying in his hand and the Dark Lord no where to be seen.
“He could have died, Albus!”
“I am well aware of that, Severus,” he replied warningly.
“You never should have left- or if you needed to, at least tell me who Potter was potentially facing! If I had not guessed correctly, I could have followed him down there and be expected to save the boy from the Dark Lord himself!”
“I apologise for the situation my decision placed you in, Severus.”
“Your decision?”
“My decision,” he repeated clearly refusing to say more.
“Your decision to leave?” I growled through my teeth. “You knew what would happen?” I demanded, my voice rising quickly in volume.
Albus stared calmly back at me.
“I knew the letter was from Professor Quirrell and I knew what he planned to do, yes.”
“And you left the school anyway?” I screamed, standing up from my chair so I could tower over the Headmaster.
Dumbledore’s blue eyes followed me as I stood, not looking at all intimidated or phased by my reaction.
“I wanted to give Harry the opportunity to-”
“What if Quirrell had succeeded, Albus!?”
“He could not have,” Albus insisted, “I was certain that neither Quirrell nor Tom could get the stone and I am happy to say that my enchantment worked. They would have failed miserably, if it were not for-”
“Potter following him down there,” I finished for him, fury in every word that left my mouth.
Albus nodded slightly in my direction to silently acknowledge my concern and rage.
“It was closer than I had ever anticipated, but he is alive and safe,” Albus insisted as if that made any difference.
“Did you anticipate he would go down there!? Have you lost your senses, Dumbledore?” I demanded.
“Harry needed to know Tom’s present state- know what he is like- what his dark magic has made him-”
I spluttered, my brain momentarily unable to come up with a cohesive response to the absurdity I was hearing.
“When he wakes, I plan to find out what Harry has learnt from his encounter with Voldemort and reinforce the most important aspects of their interaction. From what I could tell, Quirrell attempted to touch Harry’s skin to, I regret, deadly consequences.”
I was still in a poor position to speak properly, but I blurted: “Quirrell is dead?”
“Yes, I am afraid so, and I have no doubt Voldemort managed to leave his vehicle and escape with little inconvenience to himself.”
All I could do was glare at Albus; there were no words to describe how I felt.
“Harry will need to face him one day-” the headmaster tried to justify.
“Not at the age of 11 and not when I am so unaware of what could have happened! From this point forward, I insist you tell me if you believe the Dark Lord is within this castle or anywhere near Potter!” I screamed, shaking with rage.
“I will,” Albus said seriously. “I had considered telling you before I left, but I was concerned you would try to stop Harry and his friends and I wanted them to be successful-”
“Which is ludicrous,” I interrupted under my breath.
“I do not take what I did lightly, Severus,” the Headmaster said seriously. “But you and I both know of the prophecy that connects their fates.”
I felt myself pale at the mention of that word; we had not spoken of it in a decade and I had no intention of starting now.
“Tom will not rest until he hears the whole of it,” Albus continued as if he had not noticed my discomfort, “and once he has, he will do everything in his power to fulfil his original goal and kill Harry.”
I tried to interject to ask whether Albus planned to tell Potter about the prophecy, but he spoke loudly over me.
“I do not know when this will happen, but I intend for Harry to be prepared for this eventuation, and the interaction, however brief, he had with Tom tonight was an ideal start. I hope Harry learnt much from the experience. I never intended for Harry to get hurt and I had not intended to distress you, but I have planned for some time that Harry and Tom be reunited as soon as possible, and for that, I harbour no remorse. Harry will learn of his true power tonight- it is the reason the Philosopher’s Stone is still in our possession and the reason why he lives. Harry must understand the incredible power he possesses: love-”
I hissed sharply.
“Even at the age of 11, Severus, he must know this. If he has any chance of ever defeating Tom, he must understand what his mother did for him- why he lives.”
And why she didn’t.
I had had enough.
“I am going to bed.”
I knew Albus wanted to continue our discussion, but he mercifully let me go.
“Good night, Severus. I will let you know if I plan to do something similar in future.”
“You better,” I muttered under my breath, before leaving his office and slamming the door behind me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PS~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s note: Thank you for reading the first chapter. Please take some time to share your thoughts with me; you know how much I love hearing from you all!
I hope to post up ‘Chapter 2: The Chamber of Secrets’ within a week. For those of you who are keenly waiting for another outtake from Trust Me, I promise to post one up before I return to uni in the new year.
Thank you all for your incredible patience. I look forward to reading your thoughts!