Mirror

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May 19th, Tuesday, around 1 pm Severus stood at the Entrance Hall as the governors departed after the meeting ended, cursing Minerva. Bloody old cat. When she asked if he was alright with discussing donations with Potter over lunch, he agreed, because he couldn't rightly trust himself to do so in public in fear of another episode, and Minerva's presence would make it easier in private. She neglected to mention, however, that she won't be joining them… She just informed him of that fact before making her escape, looking slightly guilty. Damn that woman. “Where to?” Potter asked, appearing right beside him all of a sudden. Severus’ heart skipped a beat. “Fuck! Don't do that, Potter!” he hissed under his breath. “Sorry. So… where to?” Severus sighed. “I have no idea. Originally Minerva and I planned to have lunch at Three Broomsticks, but I don’t fancy being there with your beautiful face shadowing me instead.” Potter cringed. “I can glamour myself.” “No… No. I’m unstable enough as it is, thank you.” “Fine. Let’s go to London then, I know a quiet muggle place where I can always get a private booth and no one bats an eye at my appearance. In fact, Romero would’ve probably had a stroke if he saw my ‘the boy who lived’ version.” Severus stared. “Well?” Potter asked impatiently, raising both eyebrows. “You know what, all this is a very bad idea. When McGonagall asked me about lunch, I thought she’d be there too…” he sighed. “Go home, we can talk later. A few days won’t make much of a difference.” That did it. “Don’t treat me like a tired toddler, Potter!” Severus snapped and marched forward. “If you’re planning to walk to London, I’m off home. Send me a patronus or something about thirty minutes before you get there,” he heard a couple of moments later and screeched to a halt. “What?” Severus swirled around and stared again. It did not make any sense… Why did the blasted boy persist in not making any sense!.. “Which one of us is insane, Potter?” Potter pushed himself upright from the wall and started walking towards Severus. “Definitely not me.” “Do I look like I am capable of appreciating jokes, Mr Potter?” Severus snapped. “No. You look on the verge of another episode, and in your case being angry surpasses being nervous and triggering it. Although not by much,” Potter replied just a moment before the two of them popped out of existence. There were no usual side-along sensations: no nausea, no squeezing into a tight tube, no deafening cracks… They simply vanished out of one space and reappeared in another in a blink of an eye. Potter released his elbow and marched on as if nothing just happened, but Severus could not move a muscle. Again. He was about to plunge into panic over it, but Potter’s face rose right in front of him, attracting his attention. “Breathe, professor.” Severus inhaled impulsively, and felt himself gradually relaxing. “Shouldn’t have said anything… Sorry,” Potter frowned, and without waiting for any reaction turned around and started walking again. Severus sighed and followed. He was tired of this shit. The two of them made their way around a corner onto some busy street, and he thanked the gods for his foresight to put on a relatively muggle-appropriate attire this morning. Sun shone brightly, which was a nice alternative to today's Scottish weather. Several people walked about, minding their business and not paying any heed to an odd pair of wizards. In about three minutes they walked through an open double-door into a big, slightly crowded Mexican restaurant. “And if it isn't my favourite scarhead!” an extremely tall smiling Mexican exclaimed cheerfully, throwing his arms wide. “Long time no see! Where have you been for so long? Rubbing your face against concrete again? Haven’t we talked about it already?” he laughed goodnaturedly. “Oh shut it, you lurch. My face is prettier than yours,” Potter grinned (as weird as it was) and the two of them embraced briefly. “You’re screwing up my reputation, you know. I’m here to talk some business with a new colleague and I'd prefer to be taken seriously.” The Mexican instantly became calm and professional. He looked at Severus, smiling politely. “Good day, sir. Welcome to Picante’s. My name is Romero. Follow me, please, I’ll show you and Mr Potter to your booth.” He led them to the furthest corner, handed two menus, bowed his head, and left, clearly highly amused. The whole scene was so ridiculous, Severus forgot his nerves and his bouts of insanity for a moment, almost smiling himself. “That Romero is quite a character.” Potter snorted. “You don’t say.” “Have you known him long?” The question was met with a stare. “Since the summer of 1995. I was bored out of my mind while Albus ran around herding his flock and Tom was busy doling due punishments to his. I was ambling around looking for something when that dunderhead decided to cross the street without watching where he was going. If I didn't pull him back just in time he’d probably be a very long and very bloody pulpy mess on the road.” Of course, it was just like Potter to save everyone around him as a daily routine. The mood dampened, Severus nodded in response, not trusting himself to talk, and for some minutes they sat opposite one another in silence, scanning the menu. Well, tried to, in Severus’ case. His mind was once again swirling with thoughts and memories of this morning. What Potter did was impressive, there was no point in denying it, and easiness with which he did it was even more so. He did not bat an eye, was so natural, so captivating, Severus sat there being pissed the hell off, but believing every goddamn word that left the boy’s mouth. Every single one. His billshit reflex was clearly well trained. It all begged a giant question: why? Why did he do it? He deliberately set out to make sure that Severus kept his job, that was obvious. Why? What was in it for him? Minerva did have a certain talent for persuasion, sure, but Severus still doubted that it would’ve been enough on its own. Especially if Potter truly hated Hogwarts, like he said. And he kept helping Severus with his little sanity issues… Why did he do that? Minerva couldn’t possibly be the cause here, she did not know anything about it. And another question: how? That one was probably even more important. “How did you do it?” Severus asked, suddenly looking up. “Did what? Pulled Romero away from the speeding up lorry? I grabbed his arm, and I tugged at it.” “Funny.” Severus snapped before clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I meant my episodes. You did something, twice now. Don’t try to deny. I felt it. What did you do?” Potter sighed deeply and leaned back on his seat, sliding a little forward. For a moment they studied each other in silence, reminding Severus of all other times they did so since the battle, of all questions Potter’s behaviour and words aroused. He remembered his determination to get to the bottom of it, remembered that he was a spy, remembered the hell that he had went through to be able to sit here now, and how despite all agony he always — always — held his head high… And unconsciously straightened his back. Potter spoke quietly: “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. That power is not love or any other pompous idea that Albus used to preach to you poor people. It refers to magic — pure and simple. “I have it, that power. As a boon, I can feel magic inside and around me, and yours is doing triple backflips when you get nervous. I can sense it, and I can calm it. Don’t ask me how: I won’t be able to explain, nor will you be able to use it if I do.” Silence fell as the two men sat with their gazes locked in a battle of wills. Severus did not like that answer. It was not really an answer at all, and all it did was raise new questions. And ire. “Did Dumbledore know any of it?” Potter chuckled loudly and straightened. “He orchestrated it.” “Did he now?” “Yes.” Severus’ blood started boiling. His nostrils flared and mouth twisted into a scowl. “Now listen here, Potter—” “Hello. Are you guys ready to order?” chirped a female voice above them. Potter turned and smiled. “Hello, Melanie. Sure, yes…” And he recited the dishes’ names to her without looking at the forgotten menu. Severus used that moment to restore his equilibrium, reminding himself that the last time he blew up did not end particularly well. He had no wish to become a public spectacle. The waitress nodded and left with another smile. “Well,” Potter sighed. “Before we start, I need to say something to you. The last time we spoke you left so quickly, I didn’t get a chance to say my piece, and I have an apology of my own to make, while we’re at it.” “Apology?..” “Yes. For my snooping in your pensieve in 1996. Regardless of my reasons, I had no right to do so. I know how much you value privacy and I’m sorry. You should know that what I saw never made it past me.” Severus did not know how to react, so he just stared. Harry Potter, apologising for humiliating him? Madness. Memories of that day flooded his mind, inevitably making him angry again, for which Severus was grateful. “What reasons? What reasons could you possibly have for poking your nose into my personal business, Potter?” he spat. “Does it matter?” “Clearly it does.” “I needed you to stop the lessons. I tried to be exceptionally thick and obstinate, hoping that you’d snap and boot me out, but you persisted, so I resorted to drastic measures.” “You’re unbelievable, Potter.” “That I am. Should we get down to business then? What are your plans for the castle’s restoration, and what exactly do you need from me?” “No. You will answer my questions first.” “I just did answer every question you posed. I don’t—” “Silence, Potter,” he hissed. Severus put on his most ferocious scowl and glared menacingly at the stubborn dunderhead in front of him. Once upon a time a Hufflepuff first-year had pissed himself under that glare, and Potter never failed to react to it too. Good old times. “I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts and it is imperative that I know all there is to know about the nature of your powers. It's a potential threat to the school’s safety.” Potter blinked, completely unperturbed. “What exactly are you implying?..” His expression did not bode well. “You have some unique unknown power. Who's to say that you're the only one?” Potter smirked for a moment, but quickly turned serious. “Nobody. Although I have good reasons to think that at present I am. If it would make you feel better, I can try to insert some additional protection into the wards in case someone did turn up in the future and tried to attack.” Severus’ snorted. “Right. And I am supposed to just trust your word. I have news for you Potter: I am not those buffoons from the Board, your name does not mean a thing to me.” Potter's gaze hardened. “Indeed.” He leaned forward and softened his voice, “You are playing with fire here, Severus. Try to keep it in your muddled mind.” He made a meaningful pause. “I don’t give a flying fuck who you are or what you want. My patience is wearing thin with rapid speed here, so unless you want to go beg for the needed money on the streets, I advise you to treat me with respect.” For a long moment nobody said a word. Severus felt his heart sink and fought for composure, but it was hard to do under Potter’s unwavering stare. “Your tea,” announced the waitress, placing a tray on the table. “My apologies for the delay.” “It’s fine, Mel.” The girl nodded and left, taking a tiny feeling of relief that she brought away with her. Potter made himself a cup and took a sip before glancing at Severus and sighing. “Like I said, I do understand your concern, however, what you’re asking me about is deeply personal. I have never ever shared it with a single soul, and I am sure you can relate to my reluctance to start spilling my guts to a man who has been openly declaring his dislike and distrust of me for as long as we were acquainted, potentially longer.” Severus could do nothing but nod. He took a slow deep breath and forced himself to relax and focus on making a cup. He summoned all his inner strength to try and keep calm, despite all the warring emotions. Oddly, the current turmoil did not cause any expected consequences, which reminded him of Potter’s helping hand. Severus lifted his gaze at the contradictory man across the table. He seemed relaxed and concentrated at the same time. He was casually leaning back, smoking once again. His face moved strangely, adding even more creepiness into his already scarred, harsh appearance. Who was this man? At that moment Severus wished more than anything to be elsewhere… “My apologies,” Severus said at last. He almost added further explanation about how couldn't really help it most of the time, but managed to hold his tongue. “You can tweak the wards so they would protect the school against someone with your power?” he asked after a while. “If I am to update the wards, I will have to insert my own magic into them, therefore will always have free access to the school, I will be directly connected to it and will be able to protect it from a potential intrusion as it's happening. Beyond that, if we’re talking about the threat of others like me… I hate to disappoint you, but I don't see how any specific protections could be installed at all. My magic is absolutely identical to yours or anybody else's, in fact, if we’re speaking in terms of raw power, I'm not the most gifted, I just use it in a certain way. I can do both my way and the usual way, and if anyone else like me exists, they most likely can too. There's no possible way to differentiate, I'm afraid, only during the attack itself, and even then not many things could be done. “I could try to protect the school from all possible outside attacks, or potentially lock the perimeter down so that nobody and nothing can physically cross it, and key it to the Headmaster, whoever they are and will be in the future, who will have to manually give access. But like I said, save catching a person in the act, there's no way of knowing if they can do things my way, and even then you won't be able to know for sure.” “Could someone else do it?” “Do what? Haven't you been listening?” Severus hesitated a moment. “I meant the protection.” “You really do distrust me that much, don't you?” Severus felt his face growing hotter. “I have no clue who you are.” “I…” Potter took a deep breath and shook his head. “You know what, whatever. It might be possible to make it into some form of spell or chant if you are so worried about me sneaking into the school in the dead of night and prowling the hallways after hours. “You should know, however, that it might take days or weeks and the school is losing its magic as we speak. So whoever you hire to do the warding, would probably have to do it twice, because you can't afford to wait.” “For someone who hates the place you sound entirely too… knowledgeable of its condition. Almost worried?..” he lifted an eyebrow. “I would prefer not to see my efforts wasted, that's all.” Severus wanted to point out that out of all students, Potter was not among the ones who actually made real effort but once again held his tongue. Thank Merlin. Undoubtedly, the boy was not talking about studies, which meant that he was doing something for the school itself, which meant Albus. Albus definitely knew the particulars. With his spirits somewhat elevated, Severus decided to let the matter rest for the moment, so the two men launched into a discussion about the castle's destruction, bills, and suppliers. At some point it was decided that Potter himself would do some of the work, namely the basic restoration of the building, and afterwards would lead the warding team, which Severus fully intended to join. Potter looked at him intently for a long moment upon hearing of it, and then said, “It's not my business how you live your life, but if I were you, I'd reconsider.” Severus did a small double-take. “How fortunate it is then that you're not.” “Indeed.” Damn and blast… “Why?” Severus asked after a moment of silence. “Do I really need to explain it?” “Yes, Mr Potter, you do.” Because it would be just like Potter to dare do so. “With the current state of things with your health, it's not advisable to overtax your magic with that kind of work, that's all.” Severus snorted. “I wonder, Mr Potter, that you defended me so fiercely this morning if you think me insane enough to not be able to even cast spells.” “Insane? I don't think you're insane, at least not literally. Not counting any joys of PTSD, in this particular instance it's not your mind that's the problem, it's your magic.” “Is that so? What makes you such an expert?” Arrogant bloody brat. “My extensive experience,” Potter snapped back. “Occlumency is as addictive as the next brain-influencing substance, as you well know. It is dangerous for one's mind if used incorrectly or overused, but withdrawal screws with one's magic a lot more than with mind. The latter is more of a consequence really. It's kind of a vicious circle. Your emotions are all over the place because you've trained yourself to substitute the normal mechanisms that people usually use to deal with that kinda stuff with Occlumency, and your brain does not know what to do anymore. It wants to take the usual route, but your conscious mind prevents it. The problem is, it happens a fraction of a second too late. Magic is not a dog to be trained, it does not work like that, it's not supposed to work like that, and by the time you decide to not occlude after all, it's already halfway through doing it. This back and forth creates turbulence, which in turn screws up your mental state because one’s mind is the easiest thing to manipulate. “This happens every time you get nervous, but since you're not actually mentally ill — again, PTSD aside, — it takes time to tip your mind off balance, and the more it happens, the easier it becomes, and the less chances there would be for stopping it ever, because you also have taught yourself to easily create patterns where your magic is concerned.” Potter sighed before continuing. “Hogwarts holds a lot of terrible memories for you, which means that you will get nervous pretty quickly. Which in turn will start screwing with your mental state and with your ability to cast at the expected level. A little embarrassment will hurt naught but your pride, but forcing unstable magic to work through hard patterns will inevitably lead to its further destabilisation. Which in turn will lead to even more ‘episodes’, as you call them, and one beautiful morning, sooner rather than later, you will find yourself facing far more terrible consequences. And all because you did not give yourself any chance to recover.” “Such an interesting tale. When did you come up with it? A minute ago?” “As a matter of fact, no. It's been some years.” “Fascinating.” “I knew you'd like it.” Potter rose from his seat and fished in his jeans’ pocket. “If that is all, I have some business to attend to.” Severus also stood up. “I will expect you at Hogwarts on Saturday at 9 am sharp. Good day, Mr Potter.” Potter nodded, put money for his share of the meal on the table, and left. Severus sat back down and took a deep breath. What if he truly was in such deep shit?

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