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Children of the Sun	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12412 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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“I don’t like him.”
Harry patted Neville on the shoulder. One thing he had learned immediately was that Neville was afraid of a lot of things: of someone stepping on Trevor, of not doing well in class, of doing too well and making someone jealous, of acting like he was hogging Harry’s time and space, of the noises that echoed down into the Hufflepuff cellars from the castle above them. Harry wanted to give him some confidence.
“I know. We’re going to have to take Potions with him this morning, though.”
Neville gave a little moan and buried his head in his hands. Harry just went on watching Professor Snape, and feeding bits of his breakfast to Golden.
Cedric Diggory, one of the older Hufflepuffs who seemed to welcome everyone, paused as he went past with his bronze leopard familiar, Nebulous. “All right there, Neville?”
“He’s just dreading Potions,” said Harry, with a quick smile. “I’m sure he’ll be all right when we get into the classroom.”
Neville moaned again. Cedric patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Neville. Professor Snape’s not easy and he’s not what you would call fair, but any one of us can help you with Potions. I’m pretty good at it, and so is Chang, for all that she’s only a second year. Come and talk to us after you have the class, okay?”
Neville trembled, but he seemed to be calming down. Or maybe he just thought he had to say something because Cedric had gone out of his way to talk to him, Harry thought. Poor Neville seemed like that, so surprised when anyone was nice to him. “A-all right. I’ll remember that, Cedric. Thanks.”
Cedric flashed them one more quick smile and gave Harry a faint nod, and went on his way. Harry looked thoughtfully after him. Cedric had told them to call him by his first name right away and he was nice and all, but he still sometimes treated Harry like a golden familiar was something special.
“Harry?”
“Yes?” Harry turned back to Neville. The next piece of bacon he’d picked up was burned, and he decided, in a burst of happiness, that he didn’t have to eat it, since he wasn’t at the Dursleys’ and he could get something else. He gave it to Golden.
“Why are you so friendly with me? I mean, you’re golden.”
Harry looked up. “And your toad is Trevor, but you’re not acting like that means you can’t be friends with me.”
“Don’t make fun of me. Please.”
Neville looked like he was close to tears, and Harry sighed and nodded. “I’m that way with everyone, Neville. You know I mentioned growing up with Muggles? Well, I had no idea that my snake was special except that they couldn’t see him. When I found out that I was a wizard, I just thought everyone had familiars. I didn’t realize there was this, this hierarchy based on who had silver and gold and tin and copper. And bronze,” he added, after thinking about it for a second and remembering who he was forgetting.
“Okay. But now you know. So why aren’t you—I don’t know, going and finding out who the people with the most powerful silver familiars are, and being friends with them? I know that you’re friends with Malfoy and Granger.”
“Right. And Hermione’s Muggleborn, and she can’t do all these special spells with Regina that you can’t with Trevor. And Draco’s a bit of a prat.” Harry had to smile as he thought of the way he had looked patiently at Draco when Draco had started talking rubbish about Hufflepuffs. “So I don’t pay much attention to what he says.”
“But everyone knows people with golden familiars are more powerful.”
“Not me. I haven’t cast a single spell yet.” Their classes had just been theory so far, except for Herbology and Astronomy, but those didn’t involve spells.
“Those runes,” Neville said, and dropped his voice as he leaned forwards, pointing with the side of his hand at Golden’s back. Harry had learned that people thought it was rude to point at familiars with your finger. “They came from somewhere.”
“Right, but it’s the same place as accidental magic from where I Apparated onto the roof when my cousin and his gang were chasing me. I don’t know how to control it. That’s what we’re here to learn. So it’s silly to talk about me being more powerful than anyone else. What good is power if you can’t do anything with it?”
Neville hesitated. Then he asked, “You really don’t know any spells?”
“Some of the ones that were in the books I got, but I realized I would get in trouble for underage magic if I actually did any of them.” Harry laughed as Golden reached up past him and gulped some of the bacon off his plate. Harry wasn’t eating fast enough to suit him. “Sorry, Golden.”
“I never thought such a powerful familiar with have an ordinary name, either.”
“I called him that when I was a baby and he won’t let me change it.” Harry snorted as he thought of some of the other names he’d tried. Golden had utterly ignored him, sunbathing or stalking mice until Harry had used the name he approved of.
“Huh.” Neville was blinking, and Harry thought he might have almost convinced him that he was just an ordinary person.
“I want you to be my friend. If you really want to treat me like someone whose every word you have to obey, well, obey that one. Be my friend.”
Neville laughed a little and shook his head. “There’s something wrong with your logic, I know, but it’s pretty hard to argue with.”
Harry just kept smiling at him, one hand held out. “Well? Are you going to be my friend or not?”
Neville hesitated long enough that Harry thought he might consider turning away, and then he caught Harry’s hand and pumped it firmly. “Yes. I just—I hope you don’t regret being friends with me.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to,” said Harry comfortably, and stood up with a casual twist of his hand that brought Neville to his feet, too. Neville stood there, blinking. Harry grinned. Golden had taught him that one. There were advantages to being able to twist like a snake. “Come on, let’s go to Potions.”
*
Severus stood in front of the class of mixed first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws with Shadowstriker curled around his neck, eyes motionless on the children. That intimidated most of them, and they scuttled to their seats.
But Potter lingered near the door, talking with a frizzy-haired girl in a Ravenclaw tie. There was a silver weasel on her shoulder and an expression of such intense hopefulness on her face that Severus was sure she was a Muggleborn.
That philosophy will not endear him to the Slytherins.
But then he remembered the way that Draco had watched Potter’s Sorting last night, and frowned a little. And next to Potter, wasn’t that the Longbottom boy? With a toad of all familiars clutched in his hands, but still, a silver toad. And a pure-blood boy.
Severus wondered why and how Potter had made those friends.
He cleared his throat, and the Ravenclaw girl jumped at once and practically ran to her seat. Potter motioned Longbottom to a seat at the second bench back from the front, smiling at him all the while. That golden snake crawled next to Longbottom and wrapped itself around his feet. Severus, seeing it closely, thought it was definitely an anaconda.
Potter finally parted from the frizzy-haired girl and took his place beside Longbottom. That boy looked as if he would faint should Severus breathe wrong. Severus held back a roll of his eyes with an effort and touched his hand to Shadowstriker’s neck. His viper hissed loudly. There was an immediate silence, and people fixed their eyes on him and sat up straighter.
“You are here to learn Potions,” Severus began, a variation of the speech he had used for the Gryffindors and Slytherins. “Not watered-down Herbology, not the mere making of salves adjacent to Healing magic, not a class that the governors have added to the curriculum to punish you for obscure reasons. Potions are an end in themselves, and one that you will need far more than some of the aspects of Astronomy and History of Magic.”
Most of the Ravenclaw students had ink and parchment out already, and were writing, but. Well. Ravenclaws. Severus turned to watch the Hufflepuffs, who were sometimes tolerable and sometimes Gryffindors in disguise.
Potter was whispering to the Longbottom boy. Severus felt his lip curl. Lily’s son or not, Potter was going to be respectful, at least, or Severus wouldn’t bother trying to get to know him or protect him.
“Mr. Potter! Would you be pleased to tell me what a bezoar is?”
“I don’t know for sure, Professor Snape,” Potter said, blinking at him as if he didn’t see what a teacher would find disgusting about him talking to another student during the introduction to class. “But it’s some kind of stone, I think? It might cure poisons?”
“Are you asking me or telling me, Potter?”
Under the lash of his voice, Potter sat up straighter, and his jaw became firm. “Telling you, sir.”
“Yes, indeed it is,” said Severus, and turned on the Longbottom boy. Potter’s reply had been disrespectful enough that he felt no overwhelming desire to give him points for Hufflepuff. Then again, that desire rarely overwhelmed him. “You, Longbottom! What are the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death?”
“A-asphodel, and—” The Longbottom boy looked as if he would pass out, and he was clutching his toad familiar so hard that it croaked miserably. From the corner of his eye, Severus could see a Ravenclaw hand rising, and wasn’t startled it belonged to the frizzy-haired girl. Probably wanted to show off her own smarts.
“Answer me, Longbottom.” Severus’s eyes pierced Longbottom’s, and caught a glimpse of the boy shivering in humiliation before the taunts of an older wizard who was stigmatizing him for having a toad. Severus wanted to roll his eyes. The boy should be used to that by now. Silver or not, an amphibian wasn’t impressive in the way a snake or a bird of prey was.
“Asphodel,” Longbottom whispered, staring at his desk. “That’s all I remember.”
“Isn’t the Draught of Living Death a fifth-year potion, sir?” said Potter, his voice anxious to help. He patted Longbottom’s shoulder with one hand. “I thought I remember hearing that from some of the older Hufflepuff students who are tutoring me.”
“Think yourself above reading ahead, Potter?” Severus swept over to stand in front of him. He didn’t try to use Legilimency on him, not yet. Those green eyes still disconcerted him. “Can’t read your textbooks on your own?”
“Why are you asking first-year students about a fifth-year potion, sir?” Potter asked. And his eyes were…
He looked as if he were disappointed in Severus.
Severus spun away in fury. Only two people in the world had the right to disapprove of his actions, and one was dead and the other was the Headmaster. He should have known that just because he had a golden familiar, Potter would pride himself as being above Severus.
“Wormwood is the other major ingredient in the Draught of Living Death,” he said, and felt Shadowstriker hiss out in displeasure near his ear, catching his mood. “Ten points from Hufflepuff—five for your ignorance, Mr. Longbottom, and five for your utter cheek, Mr. Potter. Copy these instructions down.” He flicked his wand, and the correct instructions appeared on the board. “Go, now!”
*
“He was awful, Harry. Just awful. The way I thought he would be!”
That was the sound of someone moaning to Harry, and Draco frowned and stopped where he was. He had learned that if he wanted to talk to Harry and Harry was already talking to someone else who was complaining, he would have to wait.
And he would probably have to wait longer than usual, because this person was Longbottom, from the sound of his voice. Longbottom was scared of everything, and Harry was spending a lot of time with him because, he said, Longbottom needed help to be brave.
For now, Draco leaned on the corridor wall around the corner from where Harry and Longbottom were standing, and stroked Kali’s neck as she landed on his shoulder. She nudged his cheek and spread her wings, leaning forwards to peer at the corner. She liked Golden, and always wanted to be around him when they were near Harry.
Draco hushed her. He wanted to avoid any contact with Longbottom, but he’d also come too far to just walk away without seeing Harry. All the way to the Hufflepuff common room, almost. He would just stand here and wait for Harry to be done.
“But how can I make myself braver? Snape will never accept it. He just hates me because I couldn’t answer his stupid questions.”
Draco blinked. That was unexpected. He thought Professor Snape mostly hated Gryffindors.
“He snapped at me, too. I think he doesn’t like it that I was asking him questions about his questions. We’ll get through this, Neville. You just have to remember not to explode in tears and trembling. It’s just a Potions class, finally. It’s not going to control the rest of your life.”
Professor Snape snapped at Harry? That seemed so wrong to Draco that he steadied Kali on his shoulder and stepped around the corner.
Harry turned around and looked at him, while Longbottom gulped and shrank and fastened his eyes on the floor. Draco looked curiously at both of them. “What do you mean about Professor Snape snapping at you?”
“He asked me what a bezoar was,” Harry said. “I could sort of answer it, but not really. And he asked Neville about the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death, and Neville could only name one. So I asked him why he was asking us a question that wasn’t meant for first-years, because that isn’t a first-year potion. He got upset and took points from Hufflepuff.”
Draco had to shake his head again. “He didn’t do anything like that in our Potions class. Took a few points from a Gryffindor who was messing around with his cauldron and almost got the potion all over himself, but that’s it. And he hates Gryffindors.”
“I think he might hate me, too.”
Draco wanted to say that Longbottom was really too much of a non-entity for anyone to hate him, but he had to nibble his lip and stop when he thought what Harry would say about that. “He probably doesn’t,” Draco finally muttered. “He likes to pick on people, and he does it with questions like that.”
“So he didn’t ask you questions about fifth-year potions?”
“No. About what we knew about potions, and he told us we wouldn’t be using our wands in there. That’s it.”
Harry nodded. His eyes were narrowed, and Draco was reminded of the way he’d talked on the train when he said that having a golden familiar didn’t make him special. “I’m going to go ask him another question.”
“You’ll get detention, Harry,” said Longbottom in a hiss, which made Draco happy that he knew more about Harry than Longbottom did. As if considerations like that would stop someone with a golden familiar and a determined look on his face.
But Draco did have to agree with Longbottom in one respect. “There’s no reason for you to do that, Harry. He’ll get used to you and go along with you in a little while. But don’t confront him about it now.”
“Why? He picked on me and Neville the first day. Why would he decide to get along with me in a little while?”
Draco hesitated once, then admitted, “I don’t think he’s used to the idea that you have a golden familiar yet. And it’s a snake. The symbol of Slytherin House. He’ll get used to you and treat you better because of that.”
“Will he treat Neville better?”
“Neville only has a silver—”
Despite Longbottom’s frantic nods to show he agreed with him, Harry stood up taller and straighter and said, “That’s stupid.” And then he turned and marched down the corridor towards Professor Snape’s office.
Draco exchanged apprehensive looks with Longbottom, the first time he’d ever thought about doing that with a Hufflepuff, and then they turned and hurried after Harry. He didn’t know if he would manage to talk Harry out of confronting Professor Snape, but he had to at least try.
*
Harry knew Draco and Neville were following him. Golden cocking his head so he could look back would have warned him if nothing else did. But he went on marching. There were some things that had to be done.
“Harry, please don’t do this for me.”
“Longbottom’s right. Professor Snape would just get angrier if he thought you were standing up for—”
“What? A student who doesn’t have a golden familiar?” Harry’s hand shook with his anger as he knocked on Snape’s door. “That’s ridiculous, Draco. Everyone here doesn’t have a golden familiar except me and the Headmaster. I’m not just going to sit back and let Professor Snape do whatever he wants because—”
“Because I have the right to control my classroom, Potter?”
Harry turned around. There was Snape with his silver serpent coiled around his throat, and looming like he was about to fall on them. Neville moaned and crept back towards the corner.
But Harry wasn’t afraid. Golden reared beside him, and Harry knew if some danger really threatened, Golden would get in between him and it, the way he always had when Uncle Vernon was really threatening Harry.
“You didn’t have the right to ask fifth-year questions unless you’re going to do it of all the classes, Professor,” Harry told him. “And Draco already told me that you didn’t ask his class. So why are you asking Neville? I know he’s scared, but that’s the point. Aren’t teachers supposed to see a scared student and help them? Professor McGonagall did.”
Snape’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. His snake reared up and stuck its tongue out. Harry could hear words in the sliding hiss. Insolent human, standing up to my human! Just because his snake is gold doesn’t mean he can!
“I don’t think he can be unfair just because he’s an adult, either,” Harry told the snake at once. “Or just because he’s your human. Neville and Trevor didn’t ask for this.”
He looked back at Professor Snape, only to find him standing there, his eyes darting back and forth between Harry and his snake. Then he whispered, “Familiars do not speak. Not into your mind.”
“No, I know that,” Harry said, startled into responding. “And Golden doesn’t talk often, anyway. He’d much rather stuff his gut with food.” Golden nudged at his boot, but it was true, so he couldn’t say anything. “But sometimes he says things aloud. Once a month, maybe. He was the one who told me my Hogwarts letter was real.”
Snape was just staring at him as if his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Harry didn’t know why. He’d only told the truth. Some other Hufflepuff students had told him Professor Snape always knew when someone was lying. So he shouldn’t be surprised now, right?
*
The boy is a Parselmouth. The boy is a Parselmouth.
Knowing that he had correctly predicted this to Albus did not make it less terrifying.
Severus did not retreat, because that would imply that he thought Potter was right. He shook his head and murmured, “You are very new to our world, Potter. Obviously. You have yet to understand the right notions of hierarchy.”
“Draco and Neville were trying to tell me about that.” Potter folded his arms. “Something about how I’m better than them because I have a golden familiar and it was all right for you to treat Neville the way he does because he has a silver one. But you have a silver one, too, sir. Doesn’t that mean you ought to treat Neville like an equal?”
Behind Potter, Draco had one hand over his mouth and one over his eyes, but he was peeking between his fingers as if he couldn’t help himself. Longbottom looked ready to faint. At least Severus knew that neither of them had put the Potter boy up to this.
But that only left him with another dilemma. How to speak to someone with a golden snake, a Parselmouth, who said things like this?
“I have the right to treat my students how I wish, Potter—”
“Not if you treat them poorly, sir.” Potter had suddenly dropped the imposing attitude he’d been trying to maintain, and didn’t even have his arms folded anymore. He just leaned forwards and held Severus’s eye as if he wanted to convince him by sheer force of will. “You still need to treat them fairly and only punish them if they really do something wrong. Otherwise, what should make us respect you?”
Severus stared at him. The look in his eyes and the eloquence made the years fall away, and it was Lily standing before him, arguing passionately for the Headmaster to be fair to Severus and punish the “Marauders.”
“You should respect me because I am your professor,” said Severus, but his voice was faint, and not even Shadowstriker coiling closer to his throat was comforting.
Potter shrugged a little, staring at him, and Severus knew in a flash that that would never make this one roll over and curl up. And of all the students down the years who had infuriated him—beginning with some of the pure-bloods in his first years who still knew him as a Death Eater, and down to the Weasley twins—this was the one he was afraid of, because Potter had the power to enforce his will where none of the others had.
He has a golden familiar. He has people on his side who can teach him how to use that status even if he doesn’t know right now. Severus’s eyes traveled to Draco and Longbottom. And he will use it to defend a friend. He’s a bloody Hufflepuff!
It seemed he would be forced to choose a side long before he had thought he would be. Stiffly, Severus inclined his head. “Allow me to—apologize,” he said. “I will ask all my classes questions at the same level from now on.”
Potter looked at him unblinking, then shrugged. “You can ask us all fifth-year questions if you want, sir, but then you’ll fail more students than ever.”
Damn! He hadn’t expected a Hufflepuff to recognize the ambiguities in his words, or for there to be a proudly beaming Slytherin behind him. Potter was intelligent, not only a user of brute force.
“I don’t understand something,” Potter continued, and his voice was calm and thoughtful. “You could just teach to the best of your ability, and then you wouldn’t have to fail as many students, either. Or spend time snapping at them. Why don’t you just do that?” He stared at Severus again, his eyes coming back from wherever they had been.
Severus bit his lip against the temptation to snarl. This child understood him not at all, and did not understand the reasons that made him what he was, and yet dared to condescend to Severus.
And yet again, he had to remind himself of what this child was, and what could happen to Severus if he defied him too soon. Or at all.
“I am not that kind of teacher,” Severus said, the kind of response that would spare him the worst rebellion and the worst questioning, both at once.
Potter leaned forwards as if this was supremely enlightening, and his golden snake stirred beside him. Longbottom refused to look. Draco was staring between Potter and Severus as if he had never seen anything more fascinating.
“Oh,” Potter breathed. “It has to do with what kind of person you are.”
“Yes,” said Severus warily. Potter speaking to Shadowstriker in Parseltongue again would be preferable. At the moment, he had no idea what was going on.
“Then I’ll have to think about it,” Potter said. “I only want to change some things people think. I don’t want to change what kind of person they are.” He nodded to Severus with what might have been genuine respect, and then turned and walked away.
Severus stared after him. Longbottom followed with a timid glance at Severus, but Draco kept watching him for a second.
“You should listen to him,” he said. “He’s extraordinary.”
And he hurried away, already calling out for Potter and Longbottom to wait. Severus blinked. The son of Lucius Malfoy did not lightly call anyone or anything “extraordinary.”
He made his way back to his desk, stroking Shadowstriker, who had coiled around his throat and said nothing. He wondered if Harry Potter was a side all his own, or something more nebulous than that.
Potentially more threatening.
But he also thought he might try being kinder to Longbottom next week, and seeing what happened. It was not—possible to do otherwise, to reason in advance of the data.
I am not sure what is going to change. But I know the future will be different.
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Children of the Sun