Harry Potter - The Accidental Animagus

Chapter 40 - Recovery

“What the hell were you thinking, Albus?”

After getting an earful from Harry’s family, as well as from Minerva, Albus Dumbledore was growing weary of being told how badly he had botched things—not that it wasn’t true—but it was Severus Snape who knew the most of his plans, and he wasn’t taking it well. “I was thinking,” he replied, “that we had a chance to end the threat of Voldemort permanently, at minimal risk to the boy’s safety.”

“His physical safety, you mean,” Severus shot back.

Albus raised a bushy eyebrow. “Have you, then, begun to care for the boy, Severus?” he asked.

But Severus ignored the question: “You tasked me with keeping him safe, and yet it was your own risk assessment that appears to have failed badly. Or do you think that being put in a coma by the Dark Lord himself was a minimal risk.”

“I made mistakes, Severus. I admit that. It was a mistake to overreach with my plan, and it was a mistake not to isolate Quirrell from the students. But the boy will recover in the next day or so, and I stand by my assessment. It was an invaluable opportunity to end Voldemort once and for all, which is why I asked you here.”

Severus’s eyebrows shot up. “You think…you think you succeeded, Albus?” he growled. “Allow me to enlighten you.” He rolled back his sleeve to reveal the dull, red outline of a serpent emerging from the mouth of a skull.

Albus gasped—actually gasped—as he realised the implications. “No,” he breathed.

“Yes, Albus, it is still there. It seems your plan was not as successful as you thought. And you forgot to mention that it was a mistake to involve me in this mad endeavour in the first place. You’re lucky the boy wasn’t harmed worse, not to mention the girl. The next time you want to endanger him with such a mad scheme, kindly do it yourself, and leave me out of it so that I can actually protect him like I’m supposed to.”

The old man’s faced hardened. “Severus, you have no right—” he began.

“I have every right.”

“You swore to me eleven years ago that you would perform all duties necessary—”

“I swore to protect her son!” the younger man shouted. “I spied for you in exchange for her protection. I have worked for you these past ten years, as much as it galls me teaching these dunderheads to stew horned slugs, because you deemed it essential for his protection, and I should hope that has not all been in error. I told you long ago where my loyalties lay, Albus, and your actions this year have not instilled me with confidence in yours.”

The old man sighed: “For all my mistakes, my loyalty is and ever has been to the side of the light. You know this full well, Severus, and you may rest assured that I will protect Harry and his family in every way that I can.”

“You had better.”

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The first thing Harry was aware of was the sound of muffled voices around him. There were several voices—kindly ones, not like Quirrell and Voldemort—but he couldn’t resolve them into words. The second thing Harry was aware of as his eyes cracked open was a bushy mass blocking his field of view, back-lit by sunlight. He blinked once, slowly, and the mass resolved itself into a familiar head of brown hair surrounding a smiling face.