"I always believed in you, my boy," the headmaster nodded paternally. The wolf inside tucked its tail for some reason.
Lupin—who'd realized after talking to Harry (who'd have thought!) his beast had some usefulness—now tried shoving it as deep as possible and projected one hundred percent attention.
After reporting on establishing relations with Harry Potter, he risked sharing his problem with the headmaster. Now he waited for the decision.
"I understand. If you miss all lessons you can't give due to, hmm, objective circumstances, the children won't complete the year's program. Fine. I'll ask Severus to substitute for the next full moon."
Lupin tensed hearing his old enemy's name. But immediately dropped his shoulders. Who else, really? He hadn't expected the headmaster to teach for him.
"Should I give him the lesson plans?"
"Please... Only let me talk to him first."
"Maybe I'll just bring them to you then? So he doesn't have to wait for my visit?"
Actually, Lupin really didn't want to meet Snape. He had plenty of reasons. But the headmaster usually didn't pay attention to "such subtleties." Now the old man would start guilting and persuading him to make peace with Snape. Plus something about how it'd be useful for them to talk—but how do you communicate with someone who considers you practically nothing? And Remus understood perfectly why... It really was his fault. His actions. Or rather, their absence.
Lupin always thought it best to avoid any problems. Especially Snape. Don't most of us try avoiding meetings with those we feel guilty toward?
***
"Here, Severus, take this for you." The headmaster handed the potions master a fairly thick folder in nasty bright red.
"What's this?"
"Something to make your life a bit easier when preparing for Defense lessons. You know the full moon's soon?"
Snape didn't even protest. He just admired it. To be able to complicate someone's life while explaining how you're helping them—and not even lie!
"Can't he just give the kids assignments and check them himself?"
"He already did that twice, Severus. But it turns out if these lessons go to independent study, no year except first will they complete the program."
"First year's just an introduction."
"Yes, exactly. That's why I'm insisting you introduce children to a somewhat different approach. Another perspective on the subject..."
"Are you sure, Albus, that it's my perspective?" The headmaster's strange enthusiasm puzzled him considerably.
"Severus, please." Dumbledore sighed tiredly and lightly touched his elbow. "I'll send you all the ingredients necessary for wolfsbane..."
"Through the school year's end. Seven doses. Ten phoenix feathers and fifty milliliters of tears."
"Anything you ask," the old man smiled into his beard. He hadn't even hoped to get off this cheaply. Truly, Snape's requests were quite modest. Excluding phoenix tears, of course. But that cost him absolutely nothing except a few minutes with his own pet.
Maybe reward him with something else? the headmaster thought, pouring fragrant tea. Though no. Shouldn't spoil him. Plus his lessons with Harry have already caused some problems. The boy seriously took up studying... and started asking awkward questions. Which means—thinking! What he'll figure out now, only Merlin knows. And who has to deal with it?
"Sweets? Biscuits?"
"Thank you, I'm full."
Snape wanted to continue the phrase. Explain exactly what he was fed up with. Constantly emerging additional duties robbing him of such precious needed time... Restrained himself. Buried himself in neat (at least thanks for that) notes from the werewolf professor.
Same as always. Though phoenix tears and feathers were worth a lot. Including monthly extra Defense hours. Wonder if the headmaster would decrease or increase his bonuses this time? Severus could never guess how things would turn out. So he always asked for double. Just in case.
"I still won't have time to prepare everything Lupin wanted," he said after reviewing. Snapped the folder shut, set it on the table behind him and finally took his teacup.
Dumbledore wanted to emphasize his favor by warming the drink. But Snape beat him to it. Steam rose from the cup. The inside bubbled.
"You can just choose from this—" the headmaster gestured at the folder "—whatever's convenient. It'll save time anyway."
"You're giving me a choice?" Snape couldn't believe his ears. "Fine... Say, one spell and one dangerous animal or plant, depending on the year."
"Good, Severus."
"Spell from the general list, naturally. But any one."
"Yes, yes, I agree."
Judging by his distracted expression, Dumbledore was mentally far from here already. What spun in his head? Severus would give a lot to know sometime. The headmaster increasingly spoke in riddles. Only today said directly what he wanted. Like a holiday. Finally deigned to give him a break?
***
Snape decided to start with Hogwarts' closest surroundings. Topical, so to speak. Upper years wandered into the Forbidden Forest on dares often enough. By spring even younger ones would get brave. At least fewer chances Poppy would have to resuscitate someone. Or that he'd have to brew emergency potions.
He had no problems with first and second years. Even the red-and-golds. In terms of Dark Arts he could quite claim mastery—had plenty to tell and show. Enough to freeze the kids with amazement. Not that he aimed for it. But information about how, where and when you could encounter a thestral, how to recognize its approach and why to stay away from such places—even the stupidest heads had to retain that.
But starting in third year he decided to try something else. Maximum usefulness in case of emergency. Dementors still kept slicing the air around school after all. Scouring Maxima was wonderful, of course. He'd tell them about that too. But he shouldn't forget Patronus.
Most magical cores formed by age thirteen. So let them learn. The earlier the better. Maybe by graduation or OWLs they'd manage something.
Gryffindor third-years were unpleasantly surprised by the substitute teacher. Except the "secret fan club"—consisting of already (Merlin helped him!) three people. And since one of those three was Longbottom, Merlin's help might be quite timely. Though this wasn't Potions. Nothing to explode. But better keep watch anyway.
Still, the class calmed quickly. Everyone took up quills, wrote notes, sketched diagrams, then immersed in pleasant memories. True, unlike the previous house, Gryffindors couldn't just sit and focus. Started exchanging looks, whispering...
Practice? Well, let them have practice...
He called Potter forward and transfigured a fairly convincing dementor dummy from the nearest chair. The class gasped. Potter tensed, gathered himself and produced an excellent white-silver mist. Ah, well done... Almost letting that slip, Snape caught himself. Grimaced and said almost reluctantly:
"About how your first result should look. Stand up. Work."
"Everyone on one dementor?"
"Need a personal one?"
"Oh no, sorry, Professor."
"Since you insist on conditions maximally approximating reality... Geminio... Geminio..." He repeated the duplication spell several more times and added cooling charms.
Black figures swayed together and moved toward students. Cold pulled at them. The classroom became, putting it mildly, quite uncomfortable.
Almost all the girls squeaked. Someone even whimpered.
"H-how r-r-remember g-good things if s-s-so t-terrible?" asked... Longbottom, teeth chattering.
"In a real situation, would you ask actual dementors to leave so you could concentrate and come back in a couple minutes? Seriously?"
(Stop looking at your professor like he's Merlin and Morgana combined!)
"From everyone—essays on how to handle cold and fear these creatures bring. All methods you find. No fewer than five. And another essay on individual temperature charms. They're not particularly complex. Nobody stopped you using them just now."
"We could?!" From the spark instantly lighting in Potter's eyes, things got slightly scary. What had he dreamed up? And if only for himself... Yeah.
"If you'd listened properly, you might've understood I didn't forbid it."
"But... Professor, you didn't mention it at all."
What?! Who'd have thought—Neville Longbottom making complaints now! No-o. This was too much.
"Who warmed Longbottom? Miss Granger, minus five points from Gryffindor."
"Ah... Sorry, Professor. I understand," the smartest young witch at Hogwarts lowered her eyes penitently.
"And what do you understand, Miss Granger-r?"
(That's right. Don't raise your head. Stand there. Be afraid... Or at least pretend!)
"Can't change conditions. Can't help when everyone should learn themselves... and figure it out... Right, Professor?" The girl still raised her eyes at him with an expression somewhere between hope and pleading kitten.
Ugh. Had to nod. Granger beamed in response but quickly hid her smile. He frowned:
"Everyone to work. Only those who produce at least a small mist leave class today."
"B-but what about l-lunch?"
"Lunch, Mr. Weasley, goes only to those who earn it."
"What if we c-can't—"
"How many dementor images will convince you to work? Three? Five? Ten?"
"I'm on it, I'm on it!"
"On what?"
"Ex-ex-expe-ecto P-patronum!" Weasley waved his wand wildly.
"No extra syllables, Mis-ter Weas-ley. And don't black your neighbors' eyes. Aim at the dummy at least."
Harry retreated behind a column, staying in Snape's line of sight (he was scared they'd drag him to the middle otherwise), and focused. Really wanted to finally get a formed Patronus. But doing it in front of everyone scared him. His magic has delivered plenty of surprises lately. Right now he literally felt with his "lower back" something suspicious.
Right. He needed to properly focus on something good! First thing he remembered—yesterday's tea with amazingly delicious crispy cookies the house-elf brought. Smiling Snape in casual robes. His praise... Harry carefully repeated the sketched movements—the pattern differed slightly from Lupin's version. Say what you will, but with a wand results came much faster.
Now too, Patronus mist burst out immediately. His wand kept supplying pulsing silvery... What even was this—matter? Or energy after all? But before he could think about finding something to measure IT with, the cloud started taking suspiciously human contours. Darkening at the edges for some reason. Looking too much like robes.
Harry hurried to disperse it. Just in case. He looked around. Fortunately everyone was busy. Snape was helping those getting nothing so far. Plus Harry had really chosen his spot well. Should remember it, he thought, focusing on memories of winning at the shooting range with Dudley against the senior Dursleys on points. Maybe his Patronus would change and look at least like a pistol? True, Harry later realized the adults let them win. But didn't want to upset his cousin. He should write to him actually.
He started repeating the spell but got distracted. Seemed he'd glimpsed some animal in Hermione's mist. Wonder what? Not too small but not too big... He started mentally going through options. But class was ending already.
***
"That was awesome!" Seamus Finnigan summed up the overwhelming majority of Gryffindor thoughts and emotions after the extraordinarily successful Defense lesson. "Snape like that is just amazing!"
Harry and Hermione enthusiastically agreed.
"His dementors came out superb," Dean Thomas sighed. "I wish I could learn..."
"He's a monster," Patil and Brown squeaked. Drowned in snorts from the boys Hermione joined.
"Neville did great though," she added. "He even got some kind of shape. I saw it. What was it, Neville?"
The embarrassed guy shrugged.
"I didn't get it myself."
"Yeah, Snape should definitely teach Defense!"
"Absolutely," Weasley unexpectedly agreed. "Especially considering we'd get rid of him in a year then."
Harry hissed no worse than a basilisk. Which fortunately fully occupied Neville and Hermione. Nobody wanted to run to the dungeons again. Too far and the nastiest stairs. Plus Snape seemed to have stayed for another lesson in that classroom. So nobody to run to anyway. He didn't even carry potion for Harry specially!
On that last question they were wrong. But never found out.
Fortunately for everyone, Harry also quickly grasped the situation and started breathing deeply. Calming down. Weasley quickly flew toward the dining hall. Food was sacred. Hermione reminded her friend about detention. He smiled. Mood instantly improved. Ah, how much they could discuss today!
***
Quickly finishing homework—getting easier each week—Harry bounced to the dungeons. Nobody answered his knock. He just entered the empty room, looking around in surprise for the professor.
"Here, Harry," he heard a muffled voice from behind the personal lab door.
"Really, can I?" He carefully squeezed through the door, trying not to fling it wide. Now he knew perfectly well how some ultra-light ingredients like fairy wings or some pollen behaved in drafts.
"Hurry up. Robe in the corner. Board and knife on the table. Everything's ready. Cut this into cubes the size of your nail." Snape swept his hands with a sharp look. "Your pinky. Can be slightly smaller but absolutely not bigger."
Harry changed almost instantly and stood at the table.
"Professor, we need to find Black fast," he "delighted" first thing, examining his pinky and making the first cut.
"That's exactly what we're doing now."
Harry bugged out his eyes and nearly drove the knife into his own finger. But Snape managed to catch his hand without looking away from stirring the cauldron.
"So this—" Harry nodded at the cauldron "—is like a tracking potion?"
"Dealing with perceptive Potter is pleasant," Snape smiled with the corner of his mouth.
"But that's upper year material. Not even on OWLs. Definitely not—I checked recently... Oh, brilliant..."
"Ahem. Precisely why I'm standing at the cauldron while you, I dare hope, will try not to ruin the rest." Snape flicked several crookedly cut pieces off the board. "More carefully, Potter."
Harry raised offended eyes but immediately realized there were more important things than sulking about being called by surname several times in private.
"Professor, when did you manage to get his hair?" he asked when his work passed inspection and got approval.
"Not hair, Harry. Better. Fur."
"Right, he's in animagus form, otherwise..."
He sighed heavily. Couldn't help worrying about Sirius. At night he kept dreaming of nonsense where the mutt got into trouble. With all four paws. He started telling haltingly. Snape surprisingly understood quickly.
"He's definitely in animagus form. Otherwise we'd already know everything from newspapers. Dementors don't interact with animals. Don't even sense them. There. Now take those stems, wash them well, cut very thin... You know what 'shred' means?"
Harry nodded.
"Excellent. Shred this and you can clear the table. While cleaning, think about where to send your godfather and how to make sure he doesn't run away from there either. Muggles, as it turned out, aren't an option. And what's going on with the dog's mind, I won't even try to guess."
Besides that Sirius could be sent to Mrs. Fields, Harry thought of nothing. But felt bad for a good psychologist. He voiced that best would be sending him out of England entirely. But how? Had ideas, of course. Not exactly humane though. Plus needed to understand what was up with his godfather's head. Whether they could even negotiate anything.
Snape listened carefully. Warned Harry to be ready Sunday for the search. Then returned to working on the potion. Potter had to drag himself to practice. The match with Slytherin was getting closer. Weather nastier. Oliver Wood is more demanding and meaner.
***
Practice continued and seriously annoyed Harry. Especially when Wood drove them in rain. The team, though they'd started using weather charms, tired much faster with them. Plus the next day—if they had Charms or Transfiguration—assignments came out just terribly. Gryffindor's Quidditch team started grumbling quietly.
Potter started disappearing first, naturally. Angelina Johnson caught on after him. Then the twins... So Wood put it bluntly: either the whole house helped them or he wasn't responsible for anything anymore. And Slytherin gets the Cup!
Can't say everyone readily agreed. But "house honor" wasn't an empty phrase for any Gryffindor. Especially those who pictured the Cup in Marcus Flint's hands.
Even Percy Weasley got inspired and organized stadium duty. Many were grateful—at least some order. So his younger brothers started obeying him. Or at least pretending.
***
And that day finally came...
"Quidditch with Slytherin and nasty weather. Incredibly invigorating combination," Harry grumbled, forcing down breakfast. Weather charms, unlike simple temperature ones, eat energy like nobody's business.
When everyone came out on the field, it turned out Slytherins had cast charms too. On their half naturally.
How to finish this Mordred-cursed match quickly? Harry thought, throwing his leg over the broom. The gray flashing wall of rain with snow still interfered with visibility though it was peripheral. Right, trying to find a tiny snitch against a constantly moving background!
He flew higher. Better view at least. Malfoy immediately repeated his maneuver. Harry seemed to grasp his "strategy." Well then, luck to whoever's fast and agile! Draco, say what you will, was a worthy opponent.
They made a couple more almost synchronized circles over the pitch when a wave of grave cold hit them. So sharp both nearly dropped their brooms.
Dementors.
This is interesting, Harry thought, fighting icy heaviness in his chest. Already been scared of you. Piss off.
Gritting teeth, he and Malfoy finished turning. Instinctively staying together. Shrank in horror. Dozens of black figures in torn rags were rushing... straight at them!
Scouring Maxima? No, too many, flashed through Harry's head.
But then through the rain curtain he glimpsed the worst thing from the corner of his eye. A familiar silhouette of a massive black dog in the stands. All the bad words he'd heard swarmed his head. Seemed something even slipped out—not for nothing Malfoy gaped like that—and now Harry felt less scared than disgusted...
"Hang on, Malfoy! They taught you Patronus, right? Come on!" Harry yelled.
"On three!" Draco picked up. "Expecto Patronum!!!" They screamed in unison.
A massive silver cloud covered the guys. The dementors that flew close recoiled, knocking down those behind.
The glowing cloud started splitting. One half wove into the figure of a tall wizard in flowing robes. When the Patronus turned and Harry saw his profile... Though after that lesson he hadn't doubted whose form his Protector would take.
"What are those rags you had the audacity to show up to an educational institution in? Minus fifty points from each of you, and march yourselves into proper order!" thundered across the stadium in Snape's voice.
Harry giggled and flew closer to Malfoy.
Draco gaped and nearly fell off his broom.
The stands froze.
The real Professor Snape mournfully covered his face with his hand, hissed something indecent, but straightened and raised his wand, aiming at another group of creatures.
Patronus-Professor rushed toward the dementors, wielding his ghostly-silver wand. They scattered from its rays like cockroaches from light. Meanwhile the second cloud formed into a beautiful hippogriff and attacked from the other side. The stands howled with delight, then...
"Expecto Patronum!" came from them. The spell spread from mouth to mouth like wildfire through dry grass.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Somewhere on the fourth tier of green-and-silver, Snape jumped up, aiming his wand at another group of dementors. Up the stairs by the red-and-gold section, Lupin ran upward.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A graceful doe rearing on hind legs sliced through a dementor sneaking up behind the ghostly-silver "Snape" still covering both seekers. Different animals and just silvery mists literally flooded the air, gradually merging into one huge shield covering the entire field and stands.
The headmaster finally burst from the school and stared in shock at the transparent silvering dome... Without hesitation, added his spell to it.
Black shadows fled. The air warmed. Snow changed to drizzle. Weather charms dispersed. But nobody remembered them anymore.
Of course the snitch had to appear exactly then! Draco and Harry, making lightning-fast and completely synchronized hand movements, grabbed it by the wings together. Met eyes and... grinned widely. Nothing more needed saying.
They landed together and presented the snitch to the referee.
"We won!" Lee Jordan, permanent match commentator, roared.
"What's the score?" Malfoy asked Harry.
"Who cares?" he smirked. "Tell me, Malfoy—don't you seriously not give a damn after all that?"
"Well... It's interesting though. Don't you care?"
"You know what I'm most interested in... What the professor will say to you," Harry giggled, rising higher on his broom. But couldn't help it and burst out laughing watching Draco following him like on a string, paling slightly. "Listen," he whispered conspiratorially. "Take me with you? I want to see this!"
"Potter, have you lost it?! How?"
"I've got an invisibility cloak. Come on, please? Please, Draco..."
"Fine, but you'll let me use it too."
"Once for once. Deal!"
***
"Patronus Professor Snape lectures dementors and takes points from them..." they heard Jordan commenting on what happened recently as they descended to the pitch. "Thunderous applause turning into ovation greets this undoubtedly extraordinary decision! But now on the left flank his colleague appears—a hippogriff! They're tearing the advance squad of these creatures to shreds and going after the rest. Fifty points from dementors! From each! The whole stadium's dying laughing. Lying down laughing because they can't laugh anymore. Bravo, Professor Patronus! Bravo, Potter and Malfoy! Hurrah to everyone who participated! We did it!"
"What's with him?" Malfoy asked Harry, rising up again and warily eyeing the raging crowd below. Now Harry followed him, completely sharing his feelings.
"How should I know? Like, compensation."
"Ah..." Draco pretended to understand. "How long do you think they'll keep going?"
Harry shrugged.
"Let's just fly around more..." Malfoy suggested.
"Agreed. Listen, how will I know when he summons you?" Harry continued playing his role. God forbid Draco suspected he wasn't the one who created Snape-patronus!
"No idea. That's your problem, Potter."
"Then you won't see the Invisibility Cloak," Harry tried joking, searching the crowd for the professor. He needed urgently to discuss what to do next. Though...
"Malfoy, show the Patronus again?"
Surprisingly, Draco didn't make a fuss and spoke the spell. Harry tried his hardest to interfere.
"What the hell?" Malfoy was confused. The mist appeared—excellent even. But stubbornly refused to take any definite form.
"Expecto Pa—"
"Relax, don't stress. I read that it happens. Only with real danger does it take someone's form. No danger now. Like, conserving energy."
"Think so?"
"Know so!"
Though the rain finally ended, both their clothes were soaked through. Hands slipped on broom handles. Got cold eventually. So they had to descend for good. Then they had no time for Patronuses. Both seekers got captured by their own teams.
"What were you plotting with that... that snake?" Ron demanded, barely reaching Harry.
Harry blinked. Those nearby lost the power of speech.
"How to drive off dementors," Harry finally managed. "Don't say you didn't like it. I saw and even heard everything!"
Weasley choked and... was he actually thinking?
For the first time rival teams celebrated simultaneously. In different common rooms, true. But you could say that together... And Harry quietly felt proud of himself and his quick thinking. He knew exactly whose Patronus was whose. But what did that mean? For masking he'd have to somehow befriend—Merlin help him!—Draco Malfoy now? His own house wouldn't approve. Plus Draco's Patronus would only form with real danger now. Meanwhile he'd show everyone mist. Damn, he needed to pass him a book. Let him make excuses.
What a mess. But he'd done doubly well, right? Would Snape yell at him again or actually praise him?