Harry Potter: Sectumsempra Chapter 04 | Seven Years of Chaos Book 2

Hogwarts is back, but the Great Hall feels different this year. From the staff table, Severus Snape is forced to endure Gilderoy Lockhart’s grating self-mythology while his attention keeps drifting to something that actually matters: Harry Potter.

Harry looks healthier. Calmer. Still guarded, still sharp, but no longer like a child bracing for impact every second. And then Snape watches Potter’s little circle form at the Slytherin table in open defiance of tradition, with Susan Bones leading the charge and Hermione and Neville backing her up. It’s petty, clever, and annoyingly effective. Snape tries to shut it down and gets beaten on technicalities, in public, by second years.

As the feast rolls on, Snape can’t ignore what the room is telling him. Harry’s alliances are hardening into something deliberate. Susan Bones is closer than anyone. Even the teachers notice, speculate, and misunderstand in all the usual ways.

And when the night ends, Harry corners Snape with a request for a “favor”, delivered with far too much confidence for a twelve-year-old. Snape agrees to hear him out, only to discover that Potter’s newest weapon is not a spell at all. It is a name.

Transcript

**Chapter 4: The Welcome Feast**

“And then I said, ‘No, no, the fans are the greatest inspiration a simple man like myself could have!’” Lockhart laughed heartily. Severus curled his lip and shot another dark glare at Albus.

Who would hire an incompetent fool like Gilderoy Lockhart to teach students Defense Against the Dark Arts? Another incompetent fool, obviously.

Severus took a sip of his wine, doing his utmost to block out Lockhart’s mind-numbing tales of his supposed glories. Gilderoy certainly hadn’t known anything about ‘Banshee poisoning potions’ when Severus attempted to teach him during his NEWT year.

In fact, Severus was convinced there were no specific poisons used solely on Banshees... Interesting.

“And Severus! Look at us now!

Me, a successful author, Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor, famed slayer of beasts, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor! And you, a teacher!

Amazing, isn’t it?”

Severus found himself contemplating whether to curse the imbecile into silence or jinx himself temporarily deaf when the perfect excuse to walk away presented itself. “Excuse me,” he said coolly, “I see something of actual importance that requires my attention.”

Lockhart waved him off with a wink—of all things, a wink—and Severus strode to the far end of the Slytherin table, where Potter and his friends were seated.

Potter stiffened slightly as Severus approached, shooting a nervous glance at Bones before flicking his eyes around the hall behind him. The girl moved one of her hands under the table, and Severus wagered she was attempting to physically comfort the boy.

Susan Bones seemed to be one of the only people Potter accepted any form of touch from. Severus wondered what made her different from Hermione Granger or Blaise Zabini.

He had exchanged multiple owls with Potter over the summer but hadn’t actually seen the child until now. He looked different—healthier, certainly.

But also more relaxed, perhaps? Not fully relaxed; his muscles still tightened in response to Severus's presence.

Fear flickered in Severus's eyes as he narrowed them in anger at the other students further down the Slytherin table. Yet, he had to admit, things were certainly better than they had been at the start of last year.

It's amazing what a holiday spent relaxing can do for a child. He gave the students a cordial nod before addressing the three unexpected guests.

“Miss Bones, Miss Granger, and Mister Longbottom—unless you’re hoping to find a way to land in Slytherin, which I would fully support, I insist you return to your actual house tables.”

Granger immediately jumped to her feet, shooting Potter an apologetic frown. Meanwhile, Susan Bones smirked at her before turning to Severus with a polite smile.

“There’s nothing in the rules that says we can’t sit here, sir,” she said confidently. Potter had the audacity to smile at her before glancing at Severus with a challenging look.

“I am aware of the rules, Miss Bones,” Severus replied through gritted teeth. Did she think he needed reminding of Hogwarts regulations?

“However, on feast days, it is customary for students to dine with their own houses, as has always been the tradition.”

To Severus's surprise, it was Longbottom who quickly pointed out the loophole he had unwittingly created. “P-proper isn’t the same as required, though, is it?” he said softly, casting a sideways glance at Draco and Zabini.

“I don’t believe that ‘proper’ is a synonym for ‘required,’ no. Neither is ‘tradition,’” Theodore Nott murmured, his face hidden behind a book.

“Well, if it’s not required, then we’d really rather stay here, sir,” Susan said, her tone just bordering on disrespectful. Granger slowly resumed her seat beside Weasley, giving him an uneasy look.

Severus realized he had just publicly lost a battle of technicalities to a group of second years. He felt a mix of exasperation and pride.

“Five points from all four houses for annoying me before the sorting has even started,” he growled. “And one extra point from Slytherin for Potter’s tie being crooked.” With that, he made his way back.

made the most connection. As Severus returned to his seat, the sound of children's laughter trailed behind him.

Somehow, Potter had managed to achieve his goal without uttering a single word. His friends were just as clever in furthering his ambitions, making the whole situation both impressive and infuriating.

Severus mused that if Potter weren't his student, he would likely despise the brat. "Would you really have?" his mind whispered.

"Could you truly hate a child as complex as Potter?"

"Severus, surely you told the students to return to their proper tables?" Pomona admonished him once he was settled. "Feel free to explain to your badger how proprieties should be followed," Severus replied dryly.

"She informed me there's nothing in the rules that states she cannot sit wherever she pleases at all meals, despite tradition." And she was absolutely right. He had pointed this out to several of the older Slytherins the previous year when they complained about the odd groupings at the end of their table.

Pomona cast her 'disappointed grandmother' look towards where Bones was seated. "I worry about her; the girl hasn’t made a single close friend in her house," she sighed.

"And her relationship with sweet little Harry! I’m concerned she’ll become socially isolated from their mutual friends if she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings."

Severus nearly choked on his drink.

"Potter doesn’t have feelings," he said, quickly correcting himself. Merlin forbid Albus heard him.

"I mean," he coughed lightly, "Potter is twelve. I don't believe he has the slightest inclination toward romance anytime soon."

He glanced again at the group of second years.

Potter occupied his usual spot at the very end of the table, with his back against the wall. Bones sat beside him, her bright eyes darting around almost as rapidly as Potter’s.

Despite the eight students gathered together, laughing and chatting, it seemed that it was Potter and Bones who shared the deepest connection. They were undeniably the closest two.

A small pang of pain struck Severus' chest as he recalled his own youth with Lily. He hoped that Potter would have better luck keeping his closest friend than he had.

Pomona huffed again, looking slightly abashed by his earlier criticism. “They would make a very sweet couple in a few years, wouldn’t they?

They remind me quite a bit of James and Lily,” she said. Severus couldn't help but think that Hufflepuffs were absurdly oblivious.

Potter did resemble James Potter at times, but physical features only went so far. They shared no mannerisms, habits, or inherent traits that truly connected Potter to his father.

Miss Bones had a similar shade of red hair to Lily, but that was where the resemblance ended. Severus didn’t know her well enough to gauge her personality.

“I’m sure there’s nothing a young man wishes for more than to find a partner who resembles his deceased mother,” he replied tersely to Pomona. Given Potter’s background, Severus would be surprised if the boy ever allowed himself to enter a romantic entanglement, especially not at twelve years old.

The very thought was unsettling. Severus delivered his customary opening speech to the impressionable, wide-eyed first years and the much less impressed older students.

He smirked in amusement as Potter, with his owl perched on his shoulder, inched away from the newest Weasley, who had just been sorted into his house. He wondered if she had been chosen for Slytherin, as he had been reliably informed that Ronald was, or if she had requested it.

Based on the adoring gaze she fixed on Potter, he would wager she had indeed requested it. Foolish girl.

As he wished the students a good night, he turned to make his escape before the inevitable duels began. “Professor!

Wait!” Potter called out, catching up to him with a bright smile. Severus sighed.

“Can I help you? Or would you simply like to flaunt your disdain for tradition some more?”

"More?" Severus felt a surge of irritation at having been outmaneuvered before the feast.

"I wanted to know if you had a free evening this week," Potter said, his tone earnest. "I wanted to ask you for a favor.

It’s pretty important."

Severus studied him closely. Potter didn’t seem distressed; in fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.

The brat was practically preening. Whatever this favor was, it couldn’t be good.

It might even be illegal. Severus hadn’t forgotten the theft of Flamel’s Stone.

"You may come find me next Sunday morning, early, and you can ask. But I make no promises about granting your favor."

"Perfect!

Thank you, sir." Severus felt a hint of relief at Potter's improved speech. Although the Cockney twang still lingered, he now sounded more like an average student from London, rather than a ruffian.

Severus shifted his gaze to Potter's fluttering owl. "I forgot to ask—did you decide on a name for that mad creature?"

Potter met his gaze, mischief sparkling in his green eyes.

"Yeah, I had to find a good name for such an unruly thing like him, didn’t I, sir?" He stroked the hooting owl fondly. "Sevvie here ain’t as much of a demon as you made him sound."

Severus vowed never to give Potter another gift—at least, not one that required a name.

"I hope you’re challenged this evening and someone slices your impertinent tongue from your mouth," he said dryly. "Not likely, sir, but you can cross your fingers, yeah?" 

Severus left the common room, shaking his head at the child's antics.

"Sevvie," he muttered to himself. Merlin, Potter was a menace.