Rating: G
Words: 1000~
Relationship: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape.
Severus Snape briskly strode down the corridor, his black robes snapping and billowing about his ankles. His mien, as always, one of unenigmatic disapproval. The expression etched deep into the lines of his face, as firmly carved as runes from an age long past. His characteristic scowl curdled into a scathing glare when he turned a corner only to feel something slam into the back of his legs, nearly toppling him into the wall.
Whirling about with a furious indignance, Snape's venomous glare fell upon Eglantine Hornbee, a luckless first-year Ravenclaw who had crashed to the floor and now cowered at the professor's feet, stuttering her way through a litany of excuses and apologies.
"Miss Hornbee." Snape's voice dripped disdain, “Have you taken leave of your senses entirely? Or were you simply born with such an innate talent for incompetence?"
The surrounding students watched in silence. Like wise little birds seeking shelter from a storm, they hugged the walls to avoid Snape's wrath, but still they remained, unwilling to flee. Having, to a one, weighed the consequences of becoming noticed to be worth the reward of getting to play witness to this free show.
Snape drew himself up, prepared to make Miss Eglantine Hornbee understand the ramifications of the mistake she'd just made, to such an exacting depth and degree that any dream she might have of repeating it come the future would be a nightmare, but was stopped from unleashing her well-deserved upbraidment by the familiar sensation of his outer robe being, rather insistently, pulled off-centre.
A glance down revealed a small child, no older than two, standing at his side and tugging at his dark robes with one chubby hand. Snape's features softened. Nothing grand or truely notable, but something around his eyes, in the hold of his shoulders, or about the line of his neck had shifted. Making him appear warmer somehow.
"What is it, Harry?" Snape inquired of the child, a mix of exasperation and uncharacteristic affection staining his voice.
Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Snape's Sawol Clid. A child that, after Snape had been informed of his guardianship and the small -but extremely justified- breakdown that followed, Severus had spared no time absconding with. Having painstakingly cajoled, harassed, and inveigled Minerva into confessing where Dumbledore had stashed the bairn.
Harry gazed up at Snape with wide innocent green eyes, the hand that was not occupied with clenching new wrinkles into Snape's robes firmly clutching a sealed snack jar; evidently the toddler had been unequal to the task of opening it.
"Mimi up?" Harry implored, using the affectionate term that he'd come to learn would bring him the attention he so craved from his Sawol Modor.
Snape's heart, as always, gave an achingly tender clench at the infantile term. Not that he would ever confess to such disgustingly sappy sentiments. He discarded that sudden puerile train of thought and stooped to gather his youngling up into his arms with an ease borne of much repetition.
“Mimi,” Harry shoved the jar into Snape's face with the same enthusiastic disregard of personal boundaries that every toddler employed, “Open, p'ease.”
“Yes, my little snidget, I see it.” Snape affirmed, deftly blocking the jar before it could take out his eye and, with an easy tap of his wand, unsticking the lid for Harry, allowing him to eagerly dig in. He took pride in the brief “T'ank ‘ou,” that fell from the child's mouth, though he was decidedly less proud of the crumbs that accompanied it.
Snape immediately tucked the lid away in a pocket, ensuring it couldn't follow the trend set by the many jar-lids before it by becoming inexplicably irrecoverably lost somewhere, then smoothed Harry's mess of black hair back away from the toddler's face before Harry could shove it into his mouth alongside his snack. Snape had hoped that allowing it to grow out would bring some semblance of dignity or control to the disaster that is the Potter Hair, but this idea had yet to see any fruit.
From the corner of his eye Snape caught a glimpse of the many bewildered students that stood gawking at them and snapped his head up to level them with a scalding glare. Absently noting that Hornbee might just have something resembling a brain knocking about in her head after all, as the first-year had made herself thoroughly scarce whilst Snape hadn't been looking.
"Back to your studies," the Potions Master commanded, his tone brooking no argument. The flock of students obediently flittered off. No doubt to find their next amusement elsewhere, rather than do anything actually productive with their time.
Snape turned his attention back to Harry. The boy smiled up at him with sticky cheeks, calling for his ‘Mimi’ so happily that Snape couldn't bring himself to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up into a small smile as a swell of pride and love surged and whirled within him for this sweet child that he had come to call his own.
Once again shaking himself free from the schmaltzy follies that were so insistent in possessing him as of late, Severus refocused himself and made a quick assessment of both his and his charge's presentability, then promptly retrieved a handkerchief with sewn-in cleansing runes from a pocket to wipe at the squirming toddler’s dirty face and hands. He gave another half-hearted attempt at neatening the mare's nest the Potter's have long claimed to be naught but hair, then tucked his Sawol Clid more securely into his side and set off.
His previous destination discarded in favour of locating whichever dusty corner Harry's minder had lost themself in and relocating them to a locale that would be a better fit. Deep in the woods and six-feet under the loam would suit them quite nicely, in Severus’ opinion.
Snape had known at their first meeting that they wouldn't be an appropriate minder for his Sawol Clid, but permanent and semi-premanent residents of Hogwarts’ grounds had to meet the approval of both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress. The parchment of pooled potential candidates, after passing under Dumbledore's, Minerva's, and Severus’ discerning eyes, had seemed to have been struck by a sudden name famine.
Thus, Severus is doomed to continue ousting the inadequates until some lucky dunderhead clawed their way out of the woodwork and proved themselves to be capable of minding Harry, for the periods that Severus was unable, with any modicum of skill.
Notes:
The magical equivalent of a God-parent is a Sawol Ieldran (it's not called a God-parent cause why the hell would wixen call it God-parent when they don't even use God as an exclamation), from Old English ‘Soul Parents’.
Sawol Ieldran is both plural and singular.
Each parent picks a Sawol Ieldran for their child, the mother’s pick is known as the Sawol Modor(Soul Mother) and the father's the Sawol Fæder(Soul Father). The child is the Sawol Ieldran's Sawol Cild(Soul Child).Commonly the Sawol Cild will call these figures Modor or Fæder. Some use the title alone while others use it in conjunction with the Sawol Ieldran's name, akin to the title of ‘aunt’ or ‘uncle’. For parents of the same gender, who wish to not use the name in conjunction, a common alteration is for one of the Sawol Ieldran to be called Sodor or Sæder instead.The titles Modor and Fæder are gender neutral, entirely dependent on if they are chosen by the mother or father.Sawol Ieldran chosen by parents that do not claim a gender are known simply as Ieldran. Much like the singular ‘they’.While the Sawol Cild is young it is common for them to use infantile shortenings of these titles, Mimi for Modor, Didi for Fæder, Dorry for Sodor, Dærry for Sæder, and Addy for Ieldran.
Barty Crouch Jr speed running the seven stages of grief when he's ordered to impersonate the Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Art Professor, only to find out that this year's Professor is fuckin Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody.
I've never understood why Wixen would use the word God Parent when they don't even use God as an exclamation, so I came up with a headcanon replacement for it.
The magical equivalent of a God-parent is a Sawol Ieldran, from Old English ‘Soul Parents’. The term Sawol Ieldran is both plural and singular.
Each parent picks a Sawol Ieldran for their child, the mother’s pick is known as the Sawol Modor(Soul Mother) and the father's the Sawol Fæder(Soul Father). The child is the Sawol Ieldran's Sawol Cild(Soul Child).
Commonly the Sawol Cild will call these figures Modor or Fæder. Some use the title alone while others use it in conjunction with the Sawol Ieldran's name, akin to the title of ‘aunt’ or ‘uncle’.
For parents of the same gender, who wish to not use the name in conjunction, a common alteration is for one of the Sawol Ieldran to be called Sodor or Sæder instead.
The titles Modor and Fæder are gender neutral, entirely dependent on if they are chosen by the mother or father. Sawol Ieldran chosen by parents that do not claim a gender are known simply as Ieldran. Much like the singular ‘they’.
While the Sawol Cild is young it is common for them to use infantile shortenings of these titles, Mimi for Modor, Didi for Fæder, Dorry for Sodor, Dærry for Sæder, and Addy for Ieldran.
I like world building in the massive cracks that jkr left open for it.
I actively hate that the highest form the currency that wixen have is five pounds, that's ridiculous, so this is my personal money system that I came up with to fix it.
