Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Severus Snape
Genres:
General
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 08/11/2003
Updated: 11/06/2006
Words: 33,623
Chapters: 7
Hits: 2,664

A Matter of Malevolence

Trinsan

Story Summary:
Once upon a time, there was a young boy raised by people who really didn't like him at all. The best and worst thing that ever happened to him came on his eleventh birthday, when he received an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With his heart full of hope and without really knowing who he was, he went; and there experienced the things that would eventually make him into a man. His name was Severus Snape.

Chapter 02

Chapter Summary:
Harry isn't the only one whose life was changed at Hogwarts.
Posted:
08/14/2003
Hits:
522

Part Two

The day was dawning bright, clear, and chilly, the brisk morning cold of autumn frosting the plants outside the greenhouse and sending a heady steam up from the lake. The giant squid could be seen playing in it like a child in a puddle outside the windows in the halls. But Severus wasn't looking. He had other things on his mind.

Once Smethwyck set him free from the medical wing, Severus hurried back to his room to get his books and try to get to his first class before it was too late. Of course, he'd missed breakfast; his stomach warned him in no uncertain terms that it was hungry, but he ignored it.

His room, his possessions, everything was still there. There were, however, no other students, which to his mind was definitely a bonus. Grabbing his books and grateful that he was no longer limping, Severus nearly failed to notice that his pajamas - folded neatly on his bed - were clean.

He stared. "House elves," he muttered, a little uneasy at the violation of his privacy, but he could spend no more minutes on the issue. Hoisting his heavy bag over his shoulder - like the box by his bed, it was dark, leather, and worn - he hurried back out of the dungeons and toward the Transfiguration classroom.

He knew quite well where it was. The ghost had been busily smearing bundium secretion on the chalkboard the previous night.

"The principles of Transfiguration are really basic to the understanding of all of magic," came a voice from the classroom as Severus raced through the hall.

No. No, no, no, no, NO. Class had already started; he was late. His first chance to make a good impression with authority had been blown. Upset, keeping his head low and wishing he could be invisible, Severus stepped through the door. Then, he froze.

Dumbledore was standing at the front of the room, smiling at everyone. As the new headmaster, Dumbledore was not - technically - supposed to be teaching any classes, so what he was doing up there was a mystery to Severus. Startled, Severus clutched his bookbag in front of him like a shield and stared. The entire class stared back.

The headmaster beamed at him. "Hello, Mr. Snape! I'm glad to see Healer Smethwyck released you in time for class. Have a seat right there, please." Mortified, Severus did. He still felt as though people were staring at the back of his head.

"As I was saying, transfiguration is really nothing more than knowing what you want to do and having the willpower and the tools to make it happen," Dumbledore continued. "Of course, it can be dangerous - there is nothing in life that cannot be - so we are going to start VERY simply. But once you have the basics down, you're going to find that more difficult transfigurations are merely an extension of that will and those tools. Are we clear so far? Wonderful!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together as though delighted. "Who has their textbooks?"

Severus did not raise his hand. However, he was pulling his textbook out of his bag, and as he looked up, Dumbledore caught his eye. Dumbledore smiled and opened his mouth.

No. No, please don't, Severus begged silently. The headmaster paused; there was an odd moment of silence as they studied one another, and Severus shivered. He had the unnerving feeling that Dumbledore was reading his mind.

Dumbledore smiled; then he gave Severus a little nod, as though conceding a point, and turned to a young lady on the other side of the room.

"Miss Evans, would you be good enough to read the first two paragraphs of chapter two? That should help those members of the class who haven't yet comprehended me to understand what I'm saying."

Severus relaxed as Evans read the paragraphs, which basically reiterated exactly what the headmaster had said. The worst was over, maybe; perhaps they could get on with the rest.

There was more theory given, and then the class attempted to make their matchsticks turn into needles. Severus came close; his matchstick grew very pointy and hard like metal, but little else. A few children managed to make theirs perfect needles, but many more achieved nothing at all. Severus was squarely in the middle.

Hm. Not great; not terrible. Severus analyzed his own performance and decided he could do better.

"I don't get it," said a voice behind him. Severus looked back to find Avery behind him, appearing utterly perplexed and near tears. "Why isn't it working? I don't understand."

"Don't get what? It's simple enough to UNDERSTAND. Just the carrying out is difficult," Severus muttered, not commenting on Avery's matchstick - which was not only still very like a matchstick, but now looked suspicious as though it had been soaked.

"I don't get it at all," whimpered Avery, who then gave Severus a look of such helplessness that Severus mildly panicked.

"I can't help you," he said quickly with wide eyes, and just then, Dumbledore raised his hands.

"That's enough, everyone. A very good effort for today! I can tell all of you are going to be able to get this very soon - don't worry about getting results right away. What I wanted to see from you was that you tried, and you have! Wonderful job. Now, for your homework, I would like you to finish reading chapter two and bring in a short essay on it - about three inches should do."

There were the obligatory murmurs and whines at this statement, but Severus made no sound. He was too busy being worried that Avery was going to do... something.

"Now, off you go! I hope you do as well in your next classes as you have in this one," proclaimed Dumbledore cheerfully, and without waiting to see what was going to happen next, Severus tucked his textbook under one arm, snatched his quill and notes with his fingertips and flung his bag over his shoulder. In half a second, he was at the door. Unfortunately, he did not make it through the door. Something - someone - tripped him.

Severus was moving quickly enough that he did not have time to recover himself, and as he went down the absurd thought crossed his mind that he was going to break his textbook and did not have money to buy a new one. So he did the only thing he could; he turned his body into the fall, cradling the book against his chest, and let his shoulder take the brunt of it.

Laughter shot up to the ceiling. "Careful there, you're in a bit of a hurry," said Potter, who stepped over him as though he were nothing more than a higher than usual threshhold. "Hurry like that and you're bound to have an accident."

"Watch it," added Black, who opted instead to lean down and snag Severus' arm as he passed, yanking him roughly to his feet. "A word of advice? You should really think about washing your hair. Also, git, you're blocking the DOOR." He released Severus' arm with a tiny shove, then laughed again. There was something contagious about Black's laugh; many of the students in the hall, coming from various classrooms, laughed right along with him. Suddenly, there were people watching. Potter was very aware of them; so was Black, and so was Severus. Each reacted in different ways.

Potter and Black looked at each other. They grinned.

To the watching, laughing students, Potter stuck his hands in his robe pockets and gave a charmingly crooked smile. "Oops?" he said with a shrug - and tripped Severus again as the smaller boy tried to get away.

The hallway echoed with laughter. Horrified, Severus stuffed his spilled books back into his bag, gathering them in his arms so quickly he crumpled his note parchment, and hurried away from all the attention, all the laughter, all the hateful stares of other people, as fast as his legs could go.

He missed the grin Potter and Black gave to their appreciative audience. He missed Dumbledore watching with a thoughtful look, silent and analytical. He missed everything else; but he swore he could feel their gazes on his back as he fled.


The rest of the week became an exaggerated and slow race worthy of an Aesop's fable. The Slytherin and Gryffindor houses shared an unholy number of classes together, and as the days progressed, Severus could actually SEE Potter and Black bonding over the bizarre fun of hurting him.

Tuesday in flying lessons, Black somehow smacked Severus' broom so it flipped him off and went zipping away toward the Forbidden Forest.

Wednesday in potions, Potter elbowed Severus so he dropped all his dandelion roots into his cauldron at once, ruining what would have otherwise been an outstanding potion.

Thursday, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Black did something to the horned lizard as Severus' turn came to study it, causing the creature to fly screeching out the window and spray broken glass everywhere. In response, Severus set Black's bookbag on fire.

The teacher promptly took five points from Severus' house.

Five points. Five. Points. Now, this was war.

By Friday afternoon, Severus had progressed to the point that his hand was almost constantly on his wand. He had to be careful; Potter and Black seemed to possess the uncanny power of avoiding trouble while landing him squarely in it, so he knew he could not look to authority for help. Besides, he saw how authority looked at them.

It liked them. Teachers, both male and female, liked them. Authority liked Potter's easy humor and Black's roguish charm. It liked the ease (SUCH ease!) with which both Potter and Black were already sailing through most of their classes and drawing other first years to themselves like fawning-people magnets. It liked how good they looked in their Gryffindor colors as they laughed and ran, played and worked, and shot Severus smiles promising pain.

And there was pain. So, so much pain.

It was obvious to Severus at least that these two did not know the curses he did. Their pranks were childish, brutish and stupid, though still quite humiliating; if it came down to one-on-one, Severus knew he would be the victor. The problem was, it was never one-on-one.

It was Potter and Black, Black and Potter. The two were addicted to each other's shadow, usually Potter leading with Black following after, and Severus' reactions only seemed to spur them on. Potter would distract him, Black would curse. Or Black would push him, and Potter would curse. Potter disliked him; so, naturally, Black did, too. There didn't even seem to be a reason. And to Severus' growing anger, neither one of them was ever alone.

He had to get his own back. Had to recover control, supremacy, show them, TEACH them to go away. He just had to be careful how he did it or he as going to be in even more trouble. It was already clear to him that he would receive no leniency from the teachers.

Five points. Five. Points.

He was going to take those points out of their hides.


By dinnertime Friday evening, nearly every student in first year knew there was a war. Bets were being taken in the halls; the odds were heavily in the Gryffindors' favor, although even Severus had a small undercurrent of student support. Potter and Black had engendered no delusions regarding the potential for explosion between them. As most other students made plans for fun with a little room for homework over the weekend, Severus made plans for battle.

The whole situation was absurd. What was he supposed to do, spend more time avoiding the jackasses than he did on his homework? They'd cost him five points already, and he had no idea how to earn them back. Who knew what was in store for him next?

Severus settled into his seat and poked his Yorkshire pudding. Malfoy was watching him; but he ignored it. He had more important things to worry about now.

He glanced over to the Gryffindor table, where Potter and Black - and others, it seemed they'd picked up a gang of simpering hangers-on - were clearly enjoying themselves, and occasionally glancing toward him. Plans, plans, plans; he was sure they were making plans, and unlike them, he had no one else to bounce his own against. The many against the one, that's what this was; clutching his silverware, Severus felt sick.

Malfoy was still watching him as he tried to think; it was annoying. There were far more important things happening right now than the curiosity of one bloody fool of a prefect.

One thing Severus did know was that in order to have any kind of effective revenge, he was going to have to find a way to get them alone. That is, Potter OR Black - rather than both at the same time. Visibly, this was impossible; the two boys all but shared the same shoes. How to separate them was a prime concern. Obviously, it couldn't happen during classtime, but maybe after classes, or between them....

And Malfoy. Was still. Watching. Oh, it was a subtle watching. Half from under his lashes, half sidelong looks as he conversed with someone else, Malfoy's version of playing spy might have been too subtle for some people to catch, but Severus was sharply aware. Stubbornly, he tried to keep ignoring.

To get them alone, he'd have to... he'd have to... to....

Oh, bloody hell, it was useless.

"DAMNIT, Malfoy!" Severus suddenly snarled, slamming his silverware down with such ire that he marked the table. The Slytherins around him jumped, startled.

Malfoy smiled. "Hm? What is it, Severus?"

"My name is SNAPE," Severus hissed, and got up from the table. His own house was looking at him now as though he'd gone insane, but he did not care.

"Severus."

He stopped. His prefect, he told himself, he had to listen to the prefect. He couldn't just curse the snot over his shoulder and run. Just stay calm.

"I want to talk to you later," Malfoy's voice floated through the din, and Severus hunched his shoulders. "Don't go to sleep right off, hm?"

No, there was no good response to this. At least, none that would not involve making a fool of himself. Fists clenched and head down, Severus hurried out of the Great Hall and into the silence of the corridors with the relief of a cook in a hot kitchen stepping into cool night air.

Silence. Bliss. Solitude. Severus felt his irrittation at Malfoy at last slip away. So what if he'd had no dinner? It was much, much better out here, alone.

Speaking of alone... how WAS one to split up the dream team?

It definitely would not happen during classtime. The more Severus thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that only a ruse would do; and that was dangerous, because he'd only be able to use that ruse once. Gods, why did everything have to be so complicated -

"Hey. Snape."

Severus knew that voice. He whirled in place to find Potter - Potter alone - smirking at him just past the doors into the great hall. His heart leapt into his throat.

"What do you want, Potter?" he spat, wand in hand, looking past his enemy into the shadows for Black's inevitable presence.

"Just thought you'd like to know that we've decided we'll leave you alone if you apologize," Potter said, and smirked.

This took a moment to sink in. Severus stopped looking for Black, locking his eyes with Potter insead. The boy really was alone. ALONE. It was crowding out all his other thoughts. "What?"

"Apologize. You know. To Lupin."

Lupin? Who the hell was Lupin? "What the hell are you talking about, Potter?" Severus snarled. Nobody else was here. Everyone was at dinner. They really, truly, were ALONE.

"Aw, come on, Snape," Potter was saying. He uncrossed his arms and approached. "Look, it's all been bloody fun, but we're at school now, right? We're supposed to be moving on, growing up, all of that stuff, and while we all enjoy poking you a little, there's no reason to let this get out of hand. We've all discussed it. Nobody's asking you to do dance naked or anything. Just give Lupin the apology you owe him for the thing you did to his eyes and we're square. That's all we want." And he smiled, as though he were being absolutely magnaminous.

Was this imbecile serious? He wanted an APOLOGY? There was no apology forthcoming, Severus noted, for the furnuculus curse, or the fists in his back, or the noxious things thrown into his potion (the jockstrap was really too much). No apology from POTTER, oh no; just one expected from him. And to a boy, Lupin, who barely had anything to do with this at all.

Severus was scowling. "You're insane," he informed Potter, knuckles white as he clenched his wand. "An apology?" he demanded. "For defending myself?"

Potter's smile disappeared as though hit with a vanishing spell. "Defending yourself? You call cursing an innocent kid 'defending yourself' because somebody made fun of how you LOOKED? You disgust me, Snape."

Severus inhaled through his teeth and looked murderous.

Potter wasn't finished speaking. "It goes against my better judgment, but I'm still offering you that out. Take it, Snape. Do the smart thing and take it. Because if you don't, I promise you you'll have hell to pay."

Hell to pay? HELL to PAY? Hadn't he already BEEN paying hell? In that instant, Severus hated Potter. Hated the smugness, the superiority, hated everything about him down to the last unruly hair on his head. And when Severus hated a thing, he acted on it.

"I'll never apologize," he hissed, crooked teeth bared. "Not to him - and NEVER to YOU! Fragminis!" The breaking spell shot from his wand with all the force his hatred and anger could muster, and that was exactly the moment Black chose to attack.

Of course he was here, of COURSE he wasn't gone, Severus thought vaguely as Black slammed into him, sending his wand arm up and the spell wide. Potter, wide-eyed, ducked, but he hadn't needed to; the curse cracked into the wall well over his head and ricocheted up at a crazy angle, leaving a fist-sized hole behind.

"Look out!" Potter shouted unnecessarily as Black wrestled Severus' wand away from him. It wasn't difficult; Black had knocked the wind out of him by tackling to the floor, and was currently sitting on his chest.

Black snarled and threw Severus' wand into the corner. "I TOLD you the - "

"LOOK!" Potter exclaimed, and pointed.

Severus' errant spell had flown high, high up to the top of the hall, and hit with frightening precision at the base of a large statue of Godric Gryffindor. As all three boys stared at it with open mouths, a small chunk of stone cracked loose and fell to the hall floor.

"Oh, hell," Black said, and rolled off Severus quickly to get out of the way. Severus was right behind him. Another cracking sound, another piece of granite, and Godric began to tilt alarmingly.

And with perfectly hideous timing, students and teachers began streaming from the dinner hall.

Severus and his two most-hated stared at the oncoming students, then back up at Godric, who was now canted at a sharp angle and visibly beginning to fall. Professor McGonagall, unseeing, frowned at the three boys piled at the end of the hall.

"Here, now," she said sharply, and came toward them. "What are you three doing? Why weren't you at dinner?"

Severus could see Godric's shadow over her head as it silently, smoothly slipped off its base and fell. Oh gods. He'd killed a teacher. She was going to die. There was no time to do anything -

"LOOK OUT!" cried Potter suddenly, crazily, and he raced toward McGonagall with a speed that seemed impossibly quick and yet too slow, too SLOW, just a little too SLOW -

McGonagall stared at him; Godric's shadow around her grew larger, and Potter slammed bodily into her and knocked her back just as the enormous statue came crashing to the ground.

Screams erupted everywhere. Dust exploded from the ruined sculpture; the sound it had made was still echoing. Coughing, Severus brought his sleeve over his face to breathe.

Had they made it? Was the teacher okay?

"JAMES!" Black cried, his voice ragged, and shoved off Severus so quickly he knocked him over. Racing toward the wreckage, Black scrambled over the pieces of stone, calling Potter's name over and over as he tried to find him. "James! James, ANSWER m - oh gods. Thank you."

The dust finally cleared, and there, between the two halves of Godric's head, Severus could see both Potter and McGonagall. They were pale, covered in dust, and unharmed.

Relief like Severus had never known flooded him. Then, sharply on its heels, came terror. Two people knew why that statue had come down. Both had seen; neither would take credit for how bad Severus' aim had been. And yet as people crowded around and fussed (fussed and FUSSED over Potter, the hero, the incredibly suicidal IDIOT who'd risked his life) around Potter and McGonagall, the inevitable pointing and staring that Severus expected did not come to pass.

Everyone from dinner was in the hallway now, teachers and students alike. Everyone seemed to be talking at once; the statue was being slowly put back together by the charms teacher, and both the headmaster and Smethwycke were dutifully seeing that Potter and McGonagall were all right.

Everyone was ignoring him. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Severus stood. Had he gotten away with this? Somehow? Were they really going to miss this opportunity to point him out as the cause of this disaster?

Yes. They were. As Severus watched, Potter and Black both explained some story or other with tense, excitable gestures, but nothing they said caused anybody to look toward him. A minute passed; then two. Still, nobody came for him.

But there were two people who looked his way when nobody else was paying attention. Two people whose eyes, matching pools of coldness, anger, even hatred, found his and promised without words the trouble that would come. Black and Potter were not hiding their hatred now, oh no.

Severus had not gotten away with this at all. The punishment would just be coming from somewhere other than recognized authority.

Retrieving his wand from the corner, Severus stowed it in his pocket and hurried past the still-screaming, shrieking, shouting fools of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with every intention of hiding in his room. He could feel Potter's and Black's eyes on him as long as he remained in the hall.

This war was far from over. On the contrary; it really had just begun.


Part Two - A Different Point of View, I

Author's Note: You will be reading several of these "Different Point of View" segments as the story progresses. Please don't let them throw you! Because I understand that there is always more than one side to every issue, these small sections exist to present exactly what the title says: a different point of view.

Given that the rest of this story is very strongly from Severus' rather biased viewpoint, one might say it was only fair.

Heh heh heh.


He just couldn't understand what the problem was. Was Snape just stupid? It was a valid question. Even though Snape seemed to do pretty well in the few quizzes and other tests they'd had so far, his behavior still made no sense.

James had almost decided it was no longer any use thinking about it. After all, there were games to play.

"Catch it!" somebody shouted, and James threw himself to the side to snag the quaffle before it landed. It felt so natural to be moving like this, to be one with the earth and the air and raw energy all over; grinning like a wild thing, he slung his arm back and twisted himself around in mid-air, heaving the quaffle back toward Sirius before landing in the wet grass.

"Woohoo!" somebody else cheered, and James laughed as Sirius grabbed the ball before running toward the goal. Quidditch without brooms; who'd have ever thought such a thing would be fun? But they weren't allowed to use school brooms, and since first years couldn't bring their own, the boys were a bit limited in what they could do for sports.

Sirius scored. The six boys playing on the field all cheered, regardless of team, and James scrambled to his feet and jogged toward his friends.

"Good one, mate!" Remus said as James approached, patting him on the back congenially. Remus was always congenial. A nicer kid just didn't exist.

"Thanks," said James with a grin. The whole lot of them were covered in mud and breathing hard; it was absolutely delicious. "Think we got time for another round, mates?"

Everybody pondered, talked, joyfully argued, but in the end it was Remus who held sway.

"No thanks , guys," Remus said, not speaking loudly; but his voice, representing Reason, usually carried. "We all have homework to do tonight. Come on, let's go back in and do it; we can play again tomorrow."

Eh, the kid was right. The light was nearly gone anyway, and it wasn't so easy to play this game in the dark. The quaffle tended to end up in the lake.

"All right. See you guys tomorrow!" James agreeing with Remus was the unspoken sign. Everyone waved, laughed, and - picking up their bookbags and wands - began the trek back to the castle.

James breathed deeply and looked up, watching the stars appear slowly as the sun sank away. He felt wonderful. Strong; young. Good. The world was a terrific place.

"Finally got the chance to talk to you alone," muttered Sirius next to him, pulling James' gaze back down to earth.

"Yeah," said James. And slowly, alone, they walked toward home.

"I think Snape was really trying to kill you." Sirius sounded sure; very grim, very serious, his brow knit and his eyes locked onto the shadowed path in front of them.

"I don't know," admitted James, his hands in his pockets. "We're kids, Sirius. I know he meant to hurt me. He's a vicious little git. But kill me? Over an APOLOGY?" He could still see Remus' small form up ahead, just entering the castle. The kid seemed dwarfed by his bookbag; he was no threat. What had he ever done to deserve the treatment he'd gotten?

"Kill you," repeated Sirius, his belief completely unshaken. "Whatever that curse was he used - and I've never even heard of it before - it broke the WALL. It broke the STATUE. It would have broken you." Sirius looked at his friend - his new friend, yes, but somehow they were already close in a way he hadn't known was possible. In a way his family had told him wasn't possible. It had only been a week, it was true; but already Sirius was beginning to doubt a lot of the things his family had taught him.

This, however, he did not doubt: Snape had meant to kill James.

James sighed. "Yeah," he finally said, maybe just acknowledging Sirius, maybe agreeing with him. It was hard to tell. "Well, I guess at least we can't say we didn't give him a chance. Because we did." He shook his head. "All we asked him to do was say he was sorry."

"He never will," opined Sirius, looking up toward the castle.

Ugh. He was probably right. Snape was insane; there was just something WRONG with the kid, something that involved the Dark Arts. Whatever that something was, simply talking wasn't going to make it right. Maybe nothing was.

For a moment, James' mind wandered to the events on the train.

" - cursed him, he cursed him!"

"What HAPPENED?"

Chaos on the train. Just some simple joking, just joking AROUND, and it suddenly became an issue of wands and then the small greasy boy with the big nose was shouting something and Remus was screaming and -

James closed his eyes for a moment and shuddered. That was simply hell; no one expected to come up against dark magic like that, not at the age of eleven. Maybe not ever.

Of course, they'd fought back; what else could they do? Nobody had done anything bad, and suddenly this idiot had people screaming.

Dark Arts; there was dark magic being used. Unforgivable.

His fists worked where his wand did not; immediately, the attacker was subdued. And then, oh then; it should have been over, but it was not. When it was time to get in the boats, somehow the four who ended up together in his were himself, Sirius, Pettigrew... and Snape.

It had been nobody's fault. The teacher at the dock had mashed them all together.

For all James knew, it was based on weight; or maybe they were put in one boat because they were supposed to work out their differences. All he knew was that as the boat pushed off, Snape was looking at them all like he'd sink the boat just to see them drown, and... well. Perhaps he overreacted.

"Don't try anything," James growled under his breath. His wand was already out, and so was Sirius'; Sirius was a quick study.

Snape scowled as if it were their fault. "Fuck off," he said, with such casual hostility that it was obvious he was used to swearing.

All three boys stared at him.

"WHAT did you say?" gaped Sirius.

"I said fuck off," reiterated Snape, looking smug now as if he'd won a point. "Or are you too stupid to know what your mothers had to do to conceive you?"

"You little PRICK!" shouted Sirius, shocked, and did the first thing that came to mind. Abandoning his wand, he socked Snape across the face.

"You. Take. That. BACK," he growled, shocked at the smaller boy's crudity.

Snape did no such thing. Instead, he pointed his wand and started cursing.

James had no time to think; he cast a "furnuculus" the same time Sirius cast "incarcerous," and the ending result of both spells hitting at once was some sort of glowing... wire... THING that burrowed into Snape's leg and sent him screaming overboard -

- but not before his "battuo!" hit James squarely in the stomach and knocked HIM overboard as well with a splash.

"James!" cried Sirius, clambering over Pettigrew, who did nothing but cringe and whimper. The splashes and cries brought the teacher over quickly, shouting orders and trying to get both Snape and James fished out of the icy cold water.

And not a moment too soon. James was in shock; he had just had a real life wizard's duel, and he wasn't sure if he'd won or lost.

He still wasn't sure. But winning and losing really didn't matter quite as much when you were possibly dealing with defending your life: right and wrong did.

James knew - KNEW - that he'd done nothing wrong; just as strongly, he knew that Snape had done nothing right.

The Dark Arts were involved. That was all he really needed to know.

Snape was bad. Bad, very bad news. And he - James - had still tried to offer him mercy. That wasn't bad; Snape's response was. James felt no guilt about what he said next.

"Sirius, old boy," he said, companionably holding the door open for his friend. "I do believe the war is definitely on." And grinning because he had friends who fought with him (and who could lose when you had THAT), James entered Hogwarts with nothing but good feelings.

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