A Reflection of Himself

The first year students filed into the Transfigurations classroom, nervousing taking seats and awaiting the arrival of their professor for their very first lesson ever at Hogwarts. A stern-looking witch, who they had been introduced to during the previous night at the Sorting Ceremony as Minerva McGonagall, walked crisply into the classroom and instructed them to open their books to page five.

"Now," she said with her tight-lipped mouth, "we will be starting off small and simple. You will be learning how to tranfigure pins into worms and then back again."

One of the children, who was sitting alone at the back of the classroom, glanced around at the others. He could feel himself shaking with apprehension already, and he hadn't even performed the spell yet. The teacher seemed oblivious to his frets, however, and continued lecturing, asking the students to repeat the proper incantation after her.

When she seemed satisfied enough with the classroom, she asked them to work with their partners and practice the transfiguration. She didn't even seem to notice the small, skinny boy who was all alone. He thought about raising his hand and timidly began to do so, but then his fear of making himself known overwhelmed him, and he quickly put his hand back down.

As the other students began to work, Professor McGonagall noticed that this particular boy was without a partner. She approached him and took a seat next to him.

"Well, lad," she said gently, "it looks like you are without a partner. I will be your partner, then. Go on, give the spell a try."

The boy's pale cheeks flushed for a moment, for no student wants his teacher to be his partner, especially if said teacher was coddling him.

He nodded slowly and lifted his wand up, muttering the incantation. When nothing happened, he put his wand down hopelessly and looked at her expectantly.

"Well," McGonagall urged. "Don't be so shy, then, Mr. Snape. You must give it another try, lad. Enuciate the words. Feel the power within you as you perform the incantation."

Another try. Another failed attempt.

By this point, McGonagall was losing some of her patience. She was kind but also strict and knew that every student had the potential to be a great witch or wizard. She hated to see a student allowing himself to be ruled by his fears.

"You are not trying hard enough, Mr. Snape!" she exclaimed. "You must actually say the words, not merely mumble them, for the spell to work correctly."

Her voice had attracted the attention of the rest of the classroom, and two of the Gryffindor boys, James Potter and Sirius Black, seemed especially interested in watching Severus as he tried to perform the transfiguration. A part of him wanted to prove himself to those around him, but another part of him was deathly scared of their eyes. It felt like every eye was on him, judging him, challenging him to only make a fool of himself once more in front of them, proving that he couldn't live up to their standards and would never be good enough in their eyes.

Unable to control himself, tears welled up in young Severus's eyes. Completely humiliated, he tried to dash them away with his sleeves, but to only make matters worse, he wound up choking out a sob in the process. Laughter erupted from all around him. In that moment of humiliation, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Without a word, he grabbed his books and ran out of the classroom, down the corridor, and hid behind one of the suits of armor. He didn't know what had happened in that classroom after he had left. He didn't want to know. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care. And so, he stayed there, huddled up in a corner behind the suit of armor, hiding himself in its shadow, hoping against hope that no one would see him. All he wanted was to be left alone.

He had hoped that by coming to Hogwarts that he would be escaping humiliation and that penetrating feeling of helplessness, hopelessness, and worthlessness. His father had reminded him over and over again what he thought of him... that he would never measure up to his standards, that anything he did would never been good enough. His mother, on the other hand, never stood up to his father. Like Severus, she cowered under his words and demands... and also his hand.

A few minutes later, classrooms began to empty out, bringing Severus back to the reality of things around him at the present moment. The voices of students echoed through the hallway, and Severus tried to pull himself further back into the shadows. Then, he overheard the voices of the two boys who would become his enemies in his school days.

"Did ya see the look on his face?" James Potter's voice laughed.

"Yeah!" Sirius Black's voice echoed back with laughter that very much sounded like barking. "From the moment I saw him yesterday, I knew he'd be a loser. His family's totally messed up. Don't have much money, either... for purebloods."

Severus felt his blood boiling. Like Sirius Black could talk about messed up families! His temper flared, and Severus bolted out from behind the suit of armor, his wand out, and made to tackle Sirius. Sirius was taller and more sturdy, though, and wasn't easily knocked down. His balance was only thrown off for a moment, and before Severus could react, he felt a hand grab the back of his collar roughly, pulling him away from Sirius.

"You'd do well to keep your slimy little Slytherin hands off him, Snape!" James yelled.

Sirius had regained his composure and now was looking at Severus straight in the face. Severus tried to keep his face looking angry by glaring at the Gryffindor brute of a boy, but now he was seriously regretting having jumped out like he had at the larger boy.

"Is something wrong?" Sirius mocked. "I'd say just from looking at you that there's plenty wrong with you, especially your face! Did you not know when to say 'when' when it came to noses? And what do you wash your hair with? Oil?"

"Or maybe the little runt doesn't even wash his hair," James joked.

Then, those accursed tears started to well up in Severus's eyes.

"Oh, are you gonna cry?" Sirius asked in mock concern.

"You little snivelling..." James began to say, but then stopped, as if an idea had hit him. "Hey... wait... Severus... Snivellus!"

He started laughing hysterically at his own joke, as if he had never heard anything so funny in his entire life. Sirius, too, joined in on the laughter, only to be joined by several other students. The horrid laughter still echoed through his mind, years later, causing Snape to jolt awake in his own bed that night.

He knew it was just a dream, but it was a dream that was only too real, and it was just like reliving his memories. Those were his memories.

From a high, lone window in his bedroom, the first light of morning was filtering into the otherwise dark, dank room. Throwing his bed covers aside, Snape left the bed in order to prepare for the day ahead. He wondered why he was dreaming about his childhood again when he was getting ready. Everything that had happened within the past year had been practically unreal to him. Harry had told him that he respected him. He had essentially saved Lupin's life, not to mention the lives of many others. He had even been thanked by Sirius Black.

Snape wasn't sure how he felt about all that. He had wanted positive recognition as a child, but as his life had grown worse and worse throughout the years, even after he had turned himself over to Dumbledore, he grew bitter and gave up on what he began to think of as only hopeless, pointless dreams. Dreams were for fools, or so he had convinced himself. Was it really too good to be true? He knew, though, that everything came with a price. Voldemort would suspect the betrayal of one of his Death Eaters. How else would Dumbledore and the Order have found out about the kidnapping of Harry and his friends a few weeks ago? Snape knew deep down that his days were numbered. They had to be. A spy lives a risky life.

It wasn't necessarily that he wanted to die. That was certainly not the issue here, but Snape thought it too late in his life to adjust to changing circumstances, even if they were positive ones. Being looked upon favorably only made him feel uncomfortable, and he scowled to himself as he thought of the gratitude far too many people had felt toward him in the infirmary at the end of the previous school year.

He wanted to blame Dumbledore for his benevolent, hopeful thoughts. He wanted to tell the old fool that he wasn't worth his concern or his understanding, but where would he be today, he asked himself, if he hadn't received Dumbledore's trust so many years ago?

"Where indeed?" he asked himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He knew he wasn't a handsome man, certainly not a "pretty boy" like James and Sirius had been in their prime, but still... was he really so abominable that he had deserved those rude, harsh remarks he had received as a child? Snape never really cared much about physical appearance, and as such, avoided gazing at his reflection for too long in the mirror, but something appeared different today when he actually took the time to look long and hard at himself.

If he wiped off the nearly-permanent scowl or sneer and pushed his hair away from his face, he realized that he really wasn't that ugly. Years of hiding behind unpleasant turns of the lip and contortions of the face and curtains of black hair had seemingly eased away, though just somewhat. He certainly was not ready to go about smiling, and he knew that his demeanor was naturally sarcastic and biting. However, in those once dark, endlessly cold eyes, Snape thought he saw life, a small glimmer of what? Hope? They weren't warm, exactly, but they weren't so cold, either. Maybe, just maybe... there was hope yet.

Having stared at himself long enough, Snape left his chambers and proceeded to the Great Hall. The school term was thankfully a few weeks away, and so, only a few of the staff members would be at meals. Dumbledore was already seated in his usual place.

"Good morning, Severus," he cordially greeted Snape.

"Good morning, Albus," Snape replied, taking a seat.

He ate in silence for a while, which he liked, when Dumbledore's kind wise interrupted, "Young Mr. Malfoy will be living at the school now."

"Indeed?" Snape drawled, glancing at the old man.

"Since his father's death, it has not been safe for him to be outside of the school. You know that he is going to be acting as a spy."

Snape nodded, wondering if Dumbledore was passing the child off to him for some sort of training or whatnot.

"He has too many family members involved in Voldemort's inner circle. The more he is near him, the easier it may be to raise suspicion. He is not yet prepared to handle the full responsibilities of being a proper spy, Severus."

Dumbledore fixed him with one of those looks that challenged him to dare to question his authority.

"With all due respect, sir," Snape murmured, "would not bringing Mr. Malfoy to Hogwarts, in the middle of the summer, no less, raise even more suspicion?"

"Not if he has reason to be here," Dumbledore replied, winking.

Snape hated the tone of voice Dumbledore was using. It could only mean...

"You will be teaching him how to spy," Dumbledore added. "I have told him to tell his mother and extended family that he will be living at Hogwarts because he is to be an apprentice to you."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape questioned, clearly annoyed. "And when was I to find out about this?"

"You just have," Dumbledore said, smiling quite annoyingly, in Snape's opinion. "There have been too many holes in our plans, Severus," the Headmaster explained, his voice becoming serious again. "The attack on Harry's relatives proves that point. We cannot hope to win this war unless we are using everything and everyone we have at our disposal."

"Of course, but will the Dark Lord not suspect that someone has betrayed him?"

"You must make sure he doesn't," Dumbledore said, as if doing so were a cake job.

Snape knew that arguing with Dumbledore would do no good, so he finished his breakfast and returned to his chambers, where he started to think about how he was supposed to prepare the next generation of Malfoy to be one of the good guys. Just when he thought he had finally proven himself useful, the Headmaster found something else for him to do.

At Grimmauld Place, Harry awoke much later that day than Snape had. He could smell Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking downstairs, and he felt and heard his stomach growl fiercely, demanding to be fed. As he went to put on his slippers, Harry realized that he was still wearing his shoes... and still dressed in the same clothes he had worn yesterday. Harry also noticed that Ron had already gotten up and left the room. Feeling grimy, Harry began to remove his dirty clothes and then slipped into a robe and went down the hallway into the bathroom.

Stepping under the gentle flow of the warm water, Harry relished in the thought of being able to shower without having to worry about going over a time limit. There would be no annoying nags from his aunt Petunia or no roaring demands from his uncle Vernon. After he finished showering, Harry quickly dressed and headed downstairs to eat breakfast. Surrounded by his friends, who were definitely his surrogate family, Harry realized that he would never again have to sit by and watch as his cousin Dudley was given heaps of delicious food, while he was left with scraps in portions the size of a coin.

Realizing that he didn't feel guilty made Harry start to feel guilty. The Dursleys had been terrible people, true enough, but they had essentially raised him and provided, albeit very little, for him over the years. For most of his life, they had been the only family he had ever known. It was a shame that he found it difficult to really feel much remorse for their demise. Maybe they had just been so afraid of magic that they had treated Harry badly in order to keep him from over-powering them. His aunt had kept her promise of watching Harry, despite his uncle's persistent threats to throw him out of the house. Maybe, just maybe, Harry realized, there still could have been hope for the Dursleys.

He would never know now. In all truth, Harry knew that they had been innocent victims to Voldemort's plans. A part of him wanted to blame himself for being the reason they were targeted.

If I hadn't lived with them, they would never have been the victims of such an attack, Harry thought. All around him, his friends were talking, but Harry was finding himself lost in his thoughts. The fact that he couldn't properly grieve the loss of the Dursleys bothered him deep down. Still, Harry concluded that no one deserved such a fate as theirs... and then he grieved in his own quiet, private way.