HA 10d: Student

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 10: Ashes to Ashes - Student

The other boys had already gone down to breakfast by the time Albus woke up the next morning - with the exception of Eric, who had quite obviously waited for him.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily, as Albus washed and donned Brian’s school-robes. “Are you all right now?”

“Sorry?”

“Last night. When you were asleep. It looked like you were having a really weird nightmare.”

“Really?” asked Albus, a small version of himself beginning to jangle the alarm bells.

“Yeah - you went all rigid at one point, and nearly fell out of your bed. It really freaked me out. And you said something, too.”

Albus stared at Eric, desperately keeping the happy expression pasted on Brian’s face. What had he said? Had it been… Minerva? Why - why would his subconscious self want to call that?

Thank me when you’ve sorted your heart out as well as your head.

He knew the answer really. He just didn’t dare think it; the hopelessness of the situation-
“It sounded like ‘Serverus.’ Or ‘Siverus.’ Or ‘Severus.’ Something like that. And you said please to something. Can’t you remember what it was about at all?”

“No,” he blurted - but he felt the blood leave Brian’s face. Snape stood before him again, ignoring his pleas not to turn his back on truth and justice and Lily, raising his wand, face contorted, sending him to his death. The betrayal was like a knife entering his ribcage, coldly penetrating to his beating heart. Poor, damaged, guilt-wracked Severus, whom he’d cared for in a similar way to Harry, had turned into the malignant Snape, merciless and filled with contempt for the man who’d supported him. What had happened, what had he done wrong?

Eric was eyeing him oddly; Albus struggled to get control over his - and Brian’s - face, but the damage was done. Hopefully Eric would simply think it had been a horrific nightmare that Brian didn’t want to talk about, which wasn’t that far from the truth anyway. Neither spoke on the way down to breakfast.

Potions was first. Albus, too moved by the reported nightmare to try at pretences, brewed a perfect Anti-Boil potion that resulted in Slughorn talking fondly of Harry for half the lesson. Really, Albus thought half-indignantly, it wasn’t as if he had ever known Harry all that well. I had the monopoly there. The thought of Harry calmed him, steadied his shaken nerves.

Transfiguration came next, this time punctuated with inexplicably stony glances from Professor Read and convincing failures at simple Transfiguration spells. The advantage of having once been a teacher who had understood where students could go wrong allowed Albus the satisfaction of successfully answering a question incorrectly.

“Your homework is to practice,” Professor Read said reedily. “That is all.”

“Come on,” Eric said, as Albus packed away his bag.

“Brian Potter,” the teacher squawked just as both boys were about to leave the room. “See me. Run along, Mr Weasley.”

Confused, Albus walked up to Professor Read, head bowed in an accurate impersonation of a nervous pupil. Since Professor Read looked like the sort of person to be easily blown away by a strong gust of wind, such anxiety really did have to be feigned.

“Mr Potter. You are to come and see the Headmistress immediately.”

“Why, Professor?”

He was astonished he had managed to speak, to ask such an innocent question. Minerva’s face filled his brain - as it had been, strong and defiant, and as it was, hollow and pale. His body had frozen in shock; here it was, the ultimate test of his will, of his acting abilities, of his heart-

Professor Read looked outraged. “You may find wasting my time amusing, Mr Potter, but I assure you the Headmistress does not! Follow me!”

The corridors passed by like a dream. It occurred to Albus that, ironically, he felt just as any other First-Year would feel having been summoned to the head teacher’s office. His stomach twisted; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Minerva had found out somehow, had cooked up some excuse for Professor Read to take him to her office, in a few minutes time he would be pouring out the whole story to her…

Then, perhaps, one day he would be able to tell her what he felt. Perhaps he would be able to do so when Brian was a man and Minerva an ailing old woman on her death-bed-

Of course, she would die before him now. That fact was undeniable. It made him want to hurl himself out of the nearest window.

When Brian was a man and Minerva an ailing old woman - surely that would be better than when he was trapped in the body of a child? He couldn’t imagine the saying the words in a child’s voice whilst in a child’s body. The image was wrong. At least, if he told her at the last, then there would be a finality to it. There would be no need for rejections or pain, because she would be gone to her next great adventure…

“Such interesting thoughts you have,” the Sorting Hat said again, but bitterly.

“Ashes to ashes.”

The odd, macabre password was spoken quickly and the gargoyle leapt aside. They were ascending up stairs he still thought of as his own…

The door was before them. Professor Read rapped smartly on the wood, ignore the Griffin knocker. Albus stared at it vaguely, remembering what a terrific joke it had seemed when he’d installed it upon becoming headmaster. Griffin-door. Gryffindor. Now the door had become a portal to more than a joke.

There was an agonising silence, and then a curt reply.

“Enter.”