came to me in a beam of inspiration while swirling in a marauders haze, and I thought 'hey we have all these infamous groups of wizard kids we're so fond off, surely they're not the first?' and here we are. I have more headcanons about these four slowly building up, but I wanna see if anyone else finds the concept interesting. these ladies were OG before the OGs of the canon OGs, and the little we do know about at least Minerva and Amelia's lives before the 90s is kinda beautifully tragic, and we don't really see alot of fics centered around them as people outside of Harry or the time during/after the Wizarding Wars. which is a crying shame cause they're fascinating characters, and in the world of fandom I bet they could be lots of fun to play with.
Summary: The Heads have just seen your memories and Severus has some words to say to you.
Author's Note: What did we think about the last chapter? After this one, I will be taking a break to figure out how to continue on with the series. Until then, enjoy!
TW: trauma, wounds and intense scarring
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Read the OC Version on AO3!
✧༺☆༻∞ Series Masterlist ∞༺☆༻✧
The memories ended abruptly, throwing everyone out with such force, it knocked them to the ground.
You sat on the floor, attempting to keep your emotions under control. When you first revealed your memories to Minerva and Dumbledore, you nearly destroyed the headmaster's office. Luckily this time, the stone walls and floors merely vibrated.
You could feel everyone's eyes on you, waiting for you to say anything regarding what they had just seen. Yet you remained silent, focusing only on your breathing and fighting the emotions that were clawing up your throat.
Sensing footsteps nearing, you looked up to see Dumbledore with his hand out. Smiling gratefully, you took it and was pulled to your feet. Looking around, it was confirmed that they were all watching you. Pamona had a sorrowful expression, while Filius looked to be in utter disbelief.
When you could finally bring yourself to look at Severus, he managed to make eye contact with you for longer than a fleeting glance. In those couple of seconds before his eyes met the floor again, you swore that you saw some sort of pained expression.
"I think it best that we all have a seat," Dumbledore said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.
The atmosphere was dark and heavy as they sat. Dumbledore had conjured an armchair for you to have to yourself, facing the others. Perhaps he thought it would make it easier to speak with the professors. You weren't sure how true that would be.
After another pause, you figured you would have to start talking at some point.
"I apologize for the things you all had to witness tonight," you began. "It was never my intention to lie or hurt anyone regarding my identity. Everything I did and have done since that day has been to survive."
"I understand if your opinion of me has changed for the worse. The things I did were horrific. And if you no longer wish to associate with me, I understand. I just wanted the opportunity to be transparent with you all."
When you were done, no one spoke for a bit. You couldn't say that you blamed them. What does someone say to such a thing? Who would want to associate with you after the way you murdered those people? Death Eaters, yes. But still, people.
It was Pamona who spoke up first.
"Oh, child...I...I cannot even begin to fathom how you have suffered," she said as she turned towards you. "This burden you have been carrying on your shoulders."
Filius nodded. "Indeed. You have been through quite the ordeal, dear girl. A weaker person would have certainly lost themselves to despair and rage."
You were unsure of how to respond, feeling as though you had lost yourself in the months following the genocide. And at times, you felt like you weren't strong enough to continue carrying the burden of their deaths. The burden of being the sole survivor.
"It has been a challenging eleven years," you said softly. "And it has been a lonely road. But, I'm grateful for the opportunities that being here has given me."
To that, Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling in their usual manner.
"Hogwarts is glad to have you, dear," Pamona assured. "We are all glad to have you."
"How can you face me after the things I have done," you found yourself asking before you could stop it. "I essentially hunted those wizards down for sport and you can still look at me as if I am not a murderer?"
"Because you did not kill these men in cold blood, child," Filius reasoned in his true Ravenclaw fashion. "You are the victim of a heinous act. We cannot fault you for the things you did. You were merely a girl."
You didn't know what to say. They were so willing to accept what you had done. You had been living with the guilt of your actions every single day.
To your surprise, Severus was the next to speak.
"War is war, Miss L/N," he said simply. "Those who wage it care not for their victims. Every single Death Eater who was struck down by your hand met the end they deserved. You must not repent the actions you took on the course they set you on."
You could see the sincerity in his eyes, as well as something else. Remorse, perhaps? Once he knew his words had sunk in, he resumed looking at anything but you.
"I do have a question, dear," Filius asked. "Once again, forgive me for asking, but...you appeared to take a considerable amount of spells to the back. Spells that would have taken down a formidable wizard. How on earth did you survive that?"
It was a valid question. One that you had been contemplating for years. In truth, you had no idea. Even Dumbledore could not come up with a solid conclusion. Whatever it was that had kept you alive, was something that they had no concept of.
"I wish I had a better answer but...I don't know," you said truthfully. "Dumbledore and I dedicated countless hours to try and figure it out, but we found nothing."
Filius nodded, a peculiar look on his face.
"And the scars? Did you get them all healed up," Pamona asked.
You shook your head, rising from your chair. Looking to Minerva and Dumbledore, who nodded, you began removing your robes and turned your back to the professors, putting it on full display.
Closing your eyes, you felt the shift in the room's atmosphere once more.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Severus felt as though all of the oxygen had been pulled out of his lungs.
Your back and shoulders were completely mangled. Some were deep and jagged, looking as angry as the they must have been when you received them. Some were the telltale sign of dark magic, unable to be healed regardless of the method. The majority of the scars were white, branching out like lightning across your skin, similarly to Potter's. Your pants hung loosely on your hips, allowing them to imagine the extent of the scarring, presumably going down your legs.
Severus couldn't hear the gasps of the other professors. He couldn't hear them express their sympathies and regretful words. All he could focus on was the scars.
Evidence of the war. Evidence of a child being forced to become a soldier. Evidence of the innocence being ripped away from you.
And he couldn't help the immense guilt that washed through him, threatening to drown him. Eventually, he could no longer stomach looking at you.
In that moment, Severus decided that he could no longer continue the camaraderie that he had allowed to develop between the two of you. He wasn't sure if it was to protect you, or just a testament to his cowardice. Either way, it could not go on.
He wasn't sure how long they all remained in the headmaster's office until they were finally free to go. Dumbledore requested that Severus escort you down to the dungeons.
The two of you walked in silence, unsure of what to say to each other following the night's events. Eventually, you neared your chambers.
Severus was still angry regarding the situation and being kept in the dark. He knew exactly why you remained silent regarding your past. He knew the repercussions of word getting out to the wrong person. If he were a rational person with a rational temper, he would have let it go.
Unfortunately, Severus' temper was far from rational.
As you opened the door, Severus reached out and grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him. His eyes bore into yours.
"You have been deceiving me this entire time," he said slowly. All of the anger he had felt all of those months ago came rushing back in. The suspicions he held. All this time, he was right.
"Everything that I told you was the truth, professor," you defended softly. "Everything else was unnecessary."
"Unnecessary?" Severus was appalled. "I certainly would not deem any of the information revealed tonight as unnecessary."
To his annoyance, you looked around before grabbing his arm and pulling him into your chambers quickly, slamming the door behind you.
"I couldn't just tell you, professor. Before tonight, there were only two people alive that knew. Dumbledore and Minerva," you tried to reason.
"All of those months ago, I knew that something was amiss," Severus said while pacing around the sitting room. "And yet, you threw your little tantrum when I attempted to confront you and refused to speak to me for days."
He watched as your brows raised, shock evident in your face. "A tantrum? You alluded to me being in the castle for some sinister reason. You were attempting to attack my character."
"Was I supposed to just give in and tell you everything? I have been living in hell for the last eleven years, professor! My people and my entire way of life are gone! Wiped out and they are never coming back. You don't believe that I wished to tell someone? To tell you?"
Severus stopped pacing, shocked to see you losing your usual composure.
"I couldn't tell anybody! I can't tell anybody. It is the only way that my safety is guaranteed! The more people I tell, the greater the chances of Voldemort finding out."
At that, Severus completely froze. Feigning ignorance, he slowly said, "What are you talking about?"
You sighed. "Professor, please don't play this game with me. We both know that he will return. And we both know that he will eventually find out that I'm alive. Once he does, the Death Eaters will come for me. I am trying to ensure that I live long enough to fight."
Severus scoffed. "And that is your goal? To fight and destroy him?"
"Certainly not. That is the destiny put upon the poor Potter child. But I will fight beside him when the time comes. I will not let the deaths of my people be for nothing."
Severus certainly understood. Unfortunately, he was still angry. If he wasn't, he wasn't sure that he would have been able to say what he did next.
"Then allow me to make this easy for you," he spit out. "Do not worry about keeping me informed on your life and future endeavors. We are not friends, therefore not entitled to know anything about each other."
He began walking towards the door, purposefully ignoring your face.
"I will honor you and your true identity. However, moving forward, we will no longer speak to each other for anything other than work. Seeing as though you are regrettably forced to be at Hogwarts for the time being, I shall see to it that we will not so much as look at each other if it can be avoided."
Finally finding the courage to look at you, to his surprise, he saw nothing in your eyes. No anger. No sorrow. Nothing. Instead, you stood tall.
"I thought you were different," you began, voice strong and clear. "I knew you were cold, but I never thought you this cruel. I offered my friendship, but I see it was not enough for you. I do not know what life has done to you, but it has taken everything from me."
You opened the door, letting him know it was time for him to leave. "I will no longer bother you, professor. It is my wish that you do the same."
Not wanting to invade your space any longer, he quickly stepped out of your chambers. Unable to stop himself, he turned and looked back, watching as you walked towards the sofa with your head down. As he was about to close the door with his wand, your hand shot out and sent a gust of wind, slamming it shut.
Severus slowly walked to his chambers, taking in the last couple of hours. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. A knot had formed in his chest, making it tight. The only thing he could do was convince himself that it was for your safety.
For the first time in a while, Severus felt incredibly empty.
James clambered downstairs, searching the manor for his parents. He found them after a few minutes of running around various rooms, spotting them on the patio with an afternoon tea set up.
James opened the glass door; the temperature remained the same despite the winter season. He spotted his mother’s wand on the table and the shimmer around them of a clear warming charm.
He headed over, grabbing a small cupcake from the stand before taking one of the empty seats.
He spoke as he began to unwrap the cupcake.
“I just got an owl from a girl in my year; she asked if I wanted to go on a date with her when we get back to school.”
Euphemia gasped, “Our baby’s first date”, she cupped his face with her hands, “You’re growing so fast.”
Fleamont smiled, “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Hestia Jones. She's on the Quidditch team for Hufflepuff.”
“Do you like her?”
“Yeah, I think so”, James shrugged, “I owl'ed her back and said yes to the date. But, I actually came to find you because I kinda have a question.”
“Yes?”
“How do you kiss a girl? I mean I've practised the actual kissing part before, with Sirius, but how do you get to the kiss? Like at the end of the date, do I ask her if she wants me to kiss her, do I just slowly lean in and she'll know what I'm doing, or?”
Euphemia let out a laugh, “Well, your dad can help you with that.”
Fleamont turned slightly red, “It wasn't that bad!”
Euphemia gave him a disbelieving grin before turning to James, “Your father tried to kiss me on our first date, and it was terrible.”
James turned to his dad, panic on his face, “You're a bad kisser? Is that genetic?”
Euphemia snorted, “No, no. His kisses are nice. It was the lead-up, his effort to get there, that was terrible.”
Fleamont poured a third cup of tea and slid it over to James, as Euphemia began to recall.
“It was sixth year, and your father was still in his gangly, awkward, teenage phase-”
“Hey!” Fleamont interrupted.
“Shush”, she patted his thigh, “Let me tell the story.”
~
Minerva slid into the booth at The Three Broomsticks.
Fleamont glared at her.
“This is a date.”
Minerva just grinned at him, “I’m not staying for long”, she grabbed a chip off his plate.
He groaned, sliding his plate further towards her.
“So”, she grabbed another chip before glancing around the pub, “Did she ditch you or something?”
“No!” He clambered to explain, “She had to go to the toilet.”
Minerva snorted, “Sure she didn’t climb out the window? You’re not exactly thrilling company.”
“Well, she seems to like my company”, he folded his arms grumpily, “Earlier, she said so far it’s the best date she’s been on.”
Minerva paused, another chip halfway off his plate, “Better end it well then.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well”, she shrugged, “A great date so far is good and all, but if you end it terribly, then that’s all she’ll remember.”
He thought about it for a moment before glancing back over to her, “How do you end a date well?”
“Well, I know Mia likes to end it with a kiss if it’s gone well and she likes the guy.”
“A kiss? Is it not a bit too… soon?”
Minerva scoffed, “A chaste kiss, you’re not doing some hanky-panky.”
Fleamont groaned and banged his head against the sticky table.
“So I just”, he waved his hand flippantly, “Walk her back to the castle and lean in and press my lips against hers.”
Minerva raised her eyebrows, “This’ll be your first kiss, won’t it?”
“How’d you know that?”
She snorted, “Who’d kiss you? Other than Mia, I guess. There must be something wrong with her.”
Fleamont grumbled, “Why don’t you just go back to your own date”, his eyes lit up, “Oh, wait.”
Minerva threw a chip at him and began to get up.
“I’m going to go search for Poppy”, she slid out of the booth, “Have fun.”
Euphemia appeared behind her, a large grin on her face.
“Minnie! Are you joining us?”
“Oh, no”, she pressed a kiss to Euphemia’s cheek, “It’s a date, I wouldn’t want to intrude. Besides, it’s getting late, and I told the girls I was just nipping to the loo before we head back; they’ll be wondering where I disappeared to.”
“Ah”, Euphemia nodded, giving Minerva a quick hug before the girl left.
Euphemia turned to Fleamont with a smile, “We should probably get going too; I don’t want Professor Dumbledore chasing up after us… again.”
Fleamont laughed and got up, grabbing Euphemia’s coat for her.
They made their way out of the Three Broomsticks and began making the trek back to the castle. Snow began to lightly fall as they walked. Euphemia grabbed his gloved hand and tied his overly large scarf around both their necks, walking shoulder to shoulder.
As they got closer to the castle, the snow began to fall heavier and heavier, making it harder to see where they were going.
Euphemia pulled Fleamont by the hand, running through the heavy snow and dragging Fleamont with her.
They reached the castle in no time, waiting amongst the crowd of students all bustling to get through the doors and warm up by a fireplace.
Euphemia stopped Fleamont as he went to follow them inside.
“End of the date then”, she smiled at him, “It was nice.”
“Yeah?”
Euphemia nodded.
They smiled at each other for a moment, faces flush from the cold.
Euphemia stepped closer, leaning in slightly.
Fleamont bit his lip nervously, but closed his eyes and leaned in too.
Euphemia clasped the part of the scarf around her neck and was about to wrap it back around Fleamont's shoulder, when she looked up just as he leaned in with his lips pursed.
His lips touched the woolen scarf.
Euphemia held back a laugh as his eyes blinked open and he jumped back.
“Ah” He panicked, “Sorry. I just thought-”
Euphemia grinned, “Well, I would like to.”
“Oh. Yay.”
She snorted, “Did you just say ‘yay’?”
He groaned at himself, “I think I did, yeah.”
Euphemia stepped closer, almost pressed against him.
“You're so cute.”
Fleamont smiled back at her.
The two leaned in.
Fleamont closed his eyes again.
He felt his lips brush against nothing so he leaned further. And further.
He suddenly felt the frozen ground below him, muffled laughter above.
He turned around and smiled dazily as the blurry figure of Euphemia.
“I'm so sorry”, Euphemia said between bouts of laughter, “That was just so funny.”
Fleamont couldn't help but smile at her.
“I lost my glasses.”
“Oh”, Euphemia leaned down, grabbing the pair from the ground beside Fleamont's body and slid them onto his face.
His eyes adjusted and he stared at the girl leaning over him.
Euphemia looked him up and down for a second before leaning in again.
Fleamont was ready this time, nothing else could go wrong.
His lips just brushed Euphemia's when a voice called out.
“Bit chilly for that, isn’t it kids?”
They glanced up, seeing Professor Dumbledore walking over, a twinkling smile on his face as usual.
“Better hurry inside.”
Euphemia pouted, “Could we have just one more minute? We were just on a date, you see, and we were just trying to talk about how it went.”
“Hm, I suppose you can stay out here a little longer”, he chuckled, “But we wouldn't want you catching a cold.”
As he walked away, they felt a blanket of warmth suddenly appear around them.
“Well. Where was I?”
Fleamont frowned, “Effie! Professor Dumbledore is right over there!”
She shrugged, “So?”
“It's… embarrassing. He's our teacher!”
“Fine”, she got up, holding a hand out to help him get back up.
Euphemia pressed a kiss to his cheek quickly and then gave him a cheeky grin.
“Take me on a second date and you'll have a proper kiss.”
“You want a second date?”
“With you?” Her eyes crinkled slightly, dimples shining through. She brushed a bit of snow from his hair. “Of course.”
-
James frowned, “What am I meant to learn about how to kiss someone from that?”
“Well”, Euphemia grinned, “Don't do anything your father did.”
“It worked in the end!”
“It did”, she concluded, sliding her hand into his.
James leaned his head against his hand, “Maybe I'll just ask her if she wants to kiss.”
Fleamont blinked. “This new generation thinks they're so much smarter.”
The Wizarding wars are long over, nothing but gossip and ephemera to report. Don’t worry, Rita, here is this fractious old reprobate offering up a juicy cliffhanger. Your McGonagall tell-all is sure to be another bestseller.
